A/N: Hello! I've been really itching to write this pairing again and May seemed like the perfect time! Fair warning though, while it's fully plotted, I haven't written many chapters yet and it probably won't be all contained in the month of May. I am hoping to post 1-2 chapters a week, but my primary focus is finishing Trials so I don't know if I can keep to that. Still, I hope that you will stick with me while I'm posting. Huge thank you to lanamarymack for beta reading this chapter and for her encouragement!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter one and be on the lookout for chapter two soon!
Hermione Granger was sure that the excitement she felt each time she returned to Hogwarts would never wane, no matter how many years that she repeated the experience. She could still remember the way that the castle had been lit up in the night, the first time that she'd laid eyes on it, while she crossed the Black Lake in one of the many boats that ferried the group of arriving first years. Now, she saw the castle in a different manner - on the walk up from the train station in the clear August air, by herself. And, as a Professor, not a student.
Hermione had stayed on at Hogwarts over the summer after Harry had defeated Voldemort for good, helping to repair the castle. Then, she was one of the few students who chose to remain and repeat their seventh year (or in her case, sit it for the first time), while her two best friends were off galavanting in London, working their way through the Auror academy. After she sat her NEWTs (and passed with flying colors of course), she was approached by Professor McGonagall about filling the Transfiguration post that was still vacant.
If it wasn't Professor - sorry, Headmistress - McGonagall's personal request, Hermione probably would have ended up working at the Ministry somewhere. Probably as a part of the Auror department, if she would have let Harry and Ron wear her down.
Although she was quite smart, Hermione had never given much thought to being a Professor while she was in school. She understood concepts quite easily, but explaining them to others had always seemed overwhelming. It wasn't until she was reminded by Professor McGonagall that she'd basically been teaching Ron and Harry and, to a certain extent, Neville too all through school that she'd actually considered it.
However, she wouldn't receive extra responsibility of the Gryffindor Head of House position, that had gone to Neville Longbottom who was happily joining the staff as well to teach Herbology, and Hermione found was more than okay with that. She had been nervous enough as it was thinking about teaching students who were barely younger than she was.
Luckily, she took to the position like a duck to water (to her immense surprise) helped by her careful lesson planning and approach to examinations. In the past five years that she held the position, Hermione was pleased to note a small increase in the scores for both the OWL and NEWT examinations. Minerva was very pleased as well, vowing to never let Hermione leave the school if she had any say in it.
Being a professor was certainly a nice change of pace compared to the years spent fighting Voldemort as a student. Everything was more relaxed, simpler, and she didn't feel as though she needed to look over her shoulder every two seconds, which was nice. As a result , she actually felt that she had sufficient time to devote to her hobbies - knitting, attempting to learn French, and the daily crossword in the Daily Prophet. She'd even been able to go on a two week sailing vacation with Luna Lovegood one year!
But, true to form, Hermione spent a lot of her time reading. And, well...writing.
She wasn't sure how it had happened, exactly. Okay, that was a lie. She'd read one of Mrs. Weasley's bodice rippers while on holiday with Harry and the Weasleys when she'd quickly gone through all the reading material she'd already brought with her. To her dismay, she found herself absolutely appalled with the quality of writing. The plot was engaging, yes, but...
Hermione found herself thinking she could probably write something much better if this was the current level of content.
After returning from the seaside, she wrote a romance novel in the remaining two weeks of her summer break. It was...more fun than she ever expected it would be. She sent her manuscript off to the publisher of the novel Mrs. Weasley had leant her, and promptly forgotten about it.
That was, until she received an owl from the publisher. They absolutely loved the story and they wanted to print it and begged her to send them anything she wrote afterwards as well. When Hermione saw the amount of money they were offering for it, and the very generous residuals as well, her eyes nearly popped out of her head! Happily, she agreed to terms with the publisher and in a few short weeks, her debut book was out for print.
Sales were modest at first, but the book quickly became a bestseller.
And thus, Hermione started her little side gig, moonlighting as Clementine Dearly, a very successful romance novelist. She thoroughly enjoyed the distraction of writing the sappy and melodramatic plots when she needed a little break from her day to day life. So far she had found herself writing around two or three novels a year, including one highly successful series that she just completed the summer before.
And, the residual checks were certainly nothing to sniff at either. Hermione's vault balance had more galleons than she knew what to do with. Should she so desire, she could quit her job as a Professor and never need to work again all thanks to her little hobby.
But, it was not something that she planned on doing any time soon. She had genuinely grown to enjoy teaching her students and seeing them develop and improve their skills year over year in Transfiguration. It might not be a very glamorous job like being an Auror (as Ron was often quick to remind her), but she loved it nonetheless.
So every August, she found herself making that familiar trek up to the castle, into the main entrance and up the magicked stairs to her set of rooms to settle in for another ten or so months.
Her assigned rooms were located on the fourth floor, near a little known entrance to the mezzanine level of the library, and she genuinely would have been pleased as punch with that alone. But, she also had also lucked into having a stunningly large window in her living area that provided a panoramic view that overlooked the school grounds, including the Quidditch pitch. Her bedroom and attached bedroom reminded her very much of the Gryffindor girls' dorms, and she had often wondered if that was something the castle had done for her or if they were just always like that. Best of all was the small study that she had furnished herself with a comfortable desk and wall to wall bookshelves which she used to hold her impressive personal collection.
This space had come to feel like home, more than Hogwarts had when she was a student.
Knowing that she had a little bit of time before dinner, Hermione decided to take a look at her trusty ideas parchment and hopefully get some inspiration for the plot of her next novel. Frowning as she surveyed the parchment that had many lines already crossed off , she didn't see anything that was really popping out at her.
"Hmm, a werewolf romance?" she murmured out loud. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea while Greyback is still at large. Not to mention I just finished that vampire series. Historical romance set in the time of the Goblin Rebellion? That could work...I've got a lot of reference materials right here with access to the library. But would anyone actually want to read it? Maybe a whirlwind romance with a Muggle? That would be kind of nice to normalize."
Before she could contemplate on her list anymore, a knock at her portrait door startled her. Standing, she opened the door to find Headmistress McGonagall waiting for her on the other side.
"Minerva," Hermione greeted, still not over the fact that she could call her former Head of House by her given name. "What an unexpected surprise!How are you?"
"I'm doing splendid, Hermione," the older witch answered. "I just wanted to stop by and see how you were settling in for the year."
"Oh, you know me," Hermione answered, inviting her into her apartment. Flourishing her wand, she sent her sneaky list of plots away into her study as she did not want anyone to learn about her secret little hobby, least of all Minerva McGonagall. "I'm already all finished unpacking."
"Good!" Minerva said, quite happy to hear that. "In that case, I was hoping - if you have a little bit of spare time before dinner - you might join me in welcoming the new Flying Instructor to the school."
"Sure," she agreed, wondering why Minerva would want her along of all people. It was no secret that Hermione did not enjoy flying, even though she absolutely could fly if she needed to. "I'd be delighted."
"Wonderful," the other woman said, before leading her way out of Hermione's apartments towards the main entrance of the castle. "He arrived earlier this morning and hasn't left the Quidditch pitch since. I thought it would be nice to remind him that dinner would be later this evening, and it will be where we will welcome him formally."
Hermione thought that whoever this new flying instructor was, he sounded incredibly dedicated. She wondered who it could be. Oliver Wood maybe? That would explain why Minerva would want to greet him personally and maybe she thought that a friendly Gryffindor face would help. Only, she remembered that Oliver had gotten a new contract with a Quidditch team in the Scottish leagues. It wasn't as prestigious as his old gig at Puddlemere, but it was still professional Quidditch, which seemed the only thing that he cared about.
"That's nice," Hermione said quietly. "He sounds very focused."
"You could say that," Minerva agreed, cryptically. "I was hoping that your familiar face and being that you are one of our younger staff members might help him to feel more welcome."
Now that made Hermione even more curious than before! Just who could this mystery professor be, she wondered? Someone she knew, obviously. "Minerva," she said cautiously. "I don't think that you mentioned who it is that you've hired to be the flying instructor."
The Quidditch pitch loomed into view, with the massive rings towering over both of them. Hermione watched as a Quaffle sailed through the left one and looked up to see who had thrown it, but the figure on the broom was obscured by the sun.
"Oh? I must not have," Minerva said cheerfully, before shouting up at the man on the broom in her familiar brogue. "Mister Flint! Would you mind coming down here?"
Flint?! Marcus Flint? Hermione wondered just what Minerva was thinking in bringing her along. She highly doubted that her presence was going to be in any way welcoming to the former Slytherin Chaser. However, before she could catastrophize this ill fated meeting any more, the wizard in question was touching down on the grass, his form coming into view.
Hermione felt her mouth go dry when she laid eyes on him, because Marcus Flint, as it turned out, was shirtless. And obviously not the least bit embarrassed about showing off his body. Only, why should he be? His muscles were more than impressive, glistening with sweat from a hard workout in the waning sunlight. Sweet Circe, she didn't know where to look first! His shoulders were impressively broad, but perfectly proportioned with his arms, which were crossed over his chest, biceps bunching. Hermione didn't think she could get both her hands around one of his arms! His chest was nearly hidden from view, but she could still see the healthy smattering of chest hair between his pecs. His abs certainly weren't hidden, taut and covered by tanned skin.
She could even see a hint of dark hair below his belly button, before disappearing below the line of his pants.
Oh Merlin, she didn't know that bloody Quidditch players could look like that. Well, she supposed that she hadn't seen too many professional Quidditch players with their shirts off. Mostly, she was just used to seeing half a dozen pasty Weasleys jostling around at the Burrow and that was what she was basing all her knowledge of Quidditch physique on.
"Headmistress," he greeted, his voice deep and rich.
Hermione swallowed thickly, hoping to contain herself.
"Hermione and I were just hoping to escort you back to the castle for the staff feast," the Headmistress said brightly.
She could feel his gaze heavy on her body and realized that her mouth had been hanging open. "Thank you for thinking of me, Headmistress," he said slowly, almost distrustful. "Granger."
Snapping her mouth shut, Hermione nodded in recognition. "Flint," she greeted, similarly. She was surprised that she'd even been able to form the words based on how her brain had literally turned to mush. It was bloody embarrassing.
Minerva quickly launched into questions to determine if Flint was settling in well. Apparently he was feeling more than at home if he was out here running Quidditch drills.
But, Hermione took his moment of distraction to stare at him, cataloging each and every one of his features. He was a far cry from the mean boy she'd known when she was a student at the school, when he'd been compared to a troll, mostly on account of his oversized and crooked teeth. Hermione had always found that mean and rude, but he was such an absolute brute that she couldn't find it in herself to feel too badly for the wizard. In any case, he must have gotten his teeth fixed at some point, because, while they certainly weren't perfect, they certainly fit his face much better now.
He actually looked quite handsome when he smiled now.
Hermione couldn't blame him for the upgrade. She'd done the same after that wayward Densaugeo hex in her fourth year, lying about the proportions of her previously oversized teeth so that they suited her better. Her parents had been so mad when she returned home, but she never thought about it twice.
Back to Marcus, though - he'd also gotten a better haircut at some point and she could see the scruffy beginnings of a five o'clock shadow on his jaw. His hair was as dark as ever, but it was the first time that Hermione noticed his eyes - a deep blue color that reminded her of the ocean.
All of a sudden, she realized that he had asked her a question. Blinking, she felt embarrassed for being caught staring. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" she asked, timidly.
"How long have you been teaching here, Granger?" he asked, clearly amused.
She wondered if he was aware of her reaction to him. Merlin, that would be almost too embarrassing to handle. "This will be my fifth year," she said, aghast at the way she sounded. Why had he still not put his shirt on, she wondered, needing to put a little space between her and Marcus Flint so she could sort out this absolutely insane reaction she was having to him. Turning to Minerva, she tried to escape. "We should probably head back to the castle, Minerva," she suggested. "Flint probably wants to get cleaned up before the feast. And, surely he remembers the way to the Great Hall."
He laughed - a far more pleasant sound then she would have expected. "Right you are," he agreed. "I'll be up shortly."
With that sorted, Hermione turned on her heels not even bothering to wait for Minerva, too aware of the pink on her cheeks. Forget all of her other writing ideas, she had found the plot for her next novel: a Quidditch player romance. How had she never thought of that before?