A week had passed since Hermione's less than ideal start to the year. Classes had begun and, in an attempt to distract herself from her thoughts, Hermione had thrown herself completely into her studies. She had managed to conveniently avoid Malfoy since their initial interaction, making a point to learn his schedule and ensure they would cross paths as infrequently as possible. Hermione knew that she could not keep this up forever. As Head Boy and Head Girl, they would eventually have to interact and it was only a matter of time before McGonagall called them in for a meeting regarding their official duties.

It was late Tuesday afternoon and Hermione was sat at the mahogany writing desk in her dormitory. Despite the temptation of the comfortable furniture in the common space, Hermione didn't dare set herself up out there to study. She had quickly learned that Malfoy and Nott spent most of their afternoons in that space, disappearing every couple of hours or so for ten to twenty minutes at a time. So, she resigned to sit at her desk and rid her anxious thoughts with textbooks and essays. It was during this time that a gentle tap came from the window in front of her. Glancing up, Hermione caught the piercing eyes of a barn owl, still tapping its claw on her window.

"Hello Celeste," she greeted as she opened the window to give the owl entrance. Hermione had only met Celeste once as Harry had purchased her just a week before her return to Hogwarts. But her bright white face, gentle eyes and golden feathers were immediately recognisable. Hermione smiled as she pulled the letter from the owl's leg and set it down on her desk. She was hoping to hear from Harry. "Could you stay a while, Celeste," Hermione requested of the bird. "I'd like to send a letter back," she added, relieved that she wouldn't have to make the journey to the owlery. Celeste happily settled down on the window sill for a nap as Hermione sat back down at her desk and unfurled the letter.

Dearest Hermione,

I hope this letter reaches you safely. It's Celeste's first time flying to Hogwarts so I'm not sure how quickly she'll travel.

How has your first week back been? I hope you are doing well – I know how much you tend to overdo it when classes start, so I'm hoping you're balancing the textbooks with at least a few cups of tea and some sleep. How's being Head Girl so far? Have you settled into your new quarters? I imagine everything is spotless and perfectly organised, as usual.

Auror training has been intense, but honestly, it's been brilliant. Ron and I are in the same training group, which is a relief because you know how he gets when he's surrounded by strangers. I can't help but think how good you'd be at all of this, though. You'd probably be top of the class in everything. The practical stuff is definitely the most enjoyable. Ron won't stop going on about how much he hates the theory work. Just yesterday he said (and I quote) "If I wanted to read this much, I'd have stayed at Hogwarts and let Hermione boss me around."

Speaking of Hogwarts, who ended up getting Head Boy? I've been wondering if McGonagall managed to find anyone who could keep up with you. I can't imagine anyone in our year with the discipline – or patience – to handle it. Hopefully it's not someone who'll make your life harder.

Give my best to Ginny when you see her. And write back soon, yeah? Tell me all the gossip, even the boring bits. I miss hearing your voice more than I expected.

Take care of yourself, Hermione. And don't forget – try not to take on too much, alright?

All the best,

Harry

Hermione sighed deeply as she set the letter down on her desk. She was glad Harry and Ron were enjoying Auror training. It brought her great relief to know they were thriving after the war. Grabbing a spare piece of parchment and her quill, Hermione quickly set to responding to the letter. She told him all about her first week back, from her new room to her favourite classes. Not wanting to worry him too much, she conveniently left out the part about her recent panic attack and the pain that her scar continued to cause her. She told him about Malfoy and how furious she was with McGonagall for imposing him on her. By the time she had finished the letter, the sun had completely set and Celeste had woken from her nap, hopping around the desk impatiently. Hermione tied the letter to the barn owls' leg and opened the window, allowing her to glide gracefully out into the night.

Hermione yawned deeply as she briefly tidied her desk. Deciding to have an early night, she made her way to the door, hoping to cross safely to the bathroom to shower and brush her teeth. When she entered the common space, it was pleasingly empty and she assumed Malfoy was on yet another one of his suspicious outdoor breaks.

While in the shower, she allowed the cool water to settle her racing thoughts. She wondered how Harry was going to react to her letter. Despite his role in Malfoy's case, he certainly wouldn't be happy to hear that he had been made Head Boy. Eventually, she stepped out of the shower and into her mint green robe. She tied her curls up in a towel on top of her head and set to brushing her teeth. As she did so, she caught sight of her scar in the mirror. Despite the cool shower, it looked angry and red, like it was on the verge of splitting open once again. Hermione reached for her bag of healing supplies that she had stashed at the back of a cupboard under the sink. She placed several drops of murtlap essence on the scar and wrapped it gently with a length of gauze. Desperate to get to bed, Hermione stepped back out into the common space and began making her way back to her room.

"Love the towel Granger," a voice came from the corner. "Very high fashion, or avant guard, if you will." The voice came from Nott, who was sitting on a table, his legs dangling pointlessly beneath him. Malfoy sat on a chair next to him, leant back with his feet lifted on the edge of the table.

Hermione paused and reached for the towel on her head, pulling it off in one fluid motion, allowing her still damp curls to fall around her face. "Very funny," she muttered. "I'm going to bed, so if you don't mind – I'd prefer if you kept the noise to a minimum out here."

Nott put his hands up defensively and jumped down from the table. "Woah, no worries, Granger. I'll see myself out." As he walked past her, Hermione could smell the distinct scent of cigarette smoke lingering on his skin. As she held back a disgusted cough, she thought about how that clarified where the two of them got off to so often. "Night mate," Nott nodded in Malfoy's direction. "Best of sleep to you Ms Granger," he added dramatically as he retreated from their dormitory.

Hermione allowed a small cough to escape her lungs as she continued walking back to her room. As she reached for the door handle, she was stopped by the sound of Malfoy clearing his throat. "Uh, Granger," he started.

"What?" Hermione responded shortly as she stopped at the door but didn't turn around to face him.

"McGonagall told me to tell you that there's a meeting tomorrow at five. All the eighth years have been told to attend." Malfoy's voice sounded bored. If she'd cared enough to engage him in conversation, she might have asked how he had come by this information. But too desperate to escape it and disappear into the comfort of her bed, she simply replied with a brief "fine," and entered her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

The following day went by in its usual spin of classes. Ginny had to run Quidditch try-outs at 3-o'clock and Hermione promised she'd be there to support her friend in her new role at captain. The morning before, Ginny had been a bundle of nerves – stressing about how she would perform as captain. Hermione had been quick to comfort her and in doing so, found herself wishing that she had the same ability to comfort herself.

When she arrived at the Quidditch pitch, the Slytherin and Hufflepuff teams were finishing up their own try-outs. She caught sight of Ginny, preparing alongside the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw hopefuls and gave her a quick wave and a comforting thumbs up and she mouthed you've got this to her friend. Her eyes wondered across the pitch and eventually landed on the Slytherin team – well, one Slytherin team member in particular.

Malfoy had already discarded his cape and looked rather disinterested as the Slytherin captain dryly congratulated them all and informed them that she would notify them of the results by the next morning. Ginny, in an attempt to draw her into a detailed gossip session earlier that day, had told Hermione that Malfoy had been passed over as captain. Apparently, McGonagall had told him to focus on his role as Head Boy, so the position was given to the formidable seventh year Keeper instead. Malfoy looked tired, more than the usual amount of post Quidditch match tired. His cheeks were flushed red and every inch of exposed skin Hermione could see, was covered in sweat. She'd not seen him like that before. Malfoy was usually the picture of health and fitness before, during and after a Quidditch match. She briefly found herself wondering if he was okay but her attention soon shifted as she heard Ginny's powerful voice stretch across the pitch, directing the new players.

"You did wonderfully Gin," she congratulated her friend at the conclusion of the try-outs. Ginny had been a wonderful leader and the try-outs had gone off without a hitch.

"Now's the hard part," she sighed as the pair began walking back towards the castle. "I don't know how I'm going to narrow down that team."

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Hermione comforted. Ginny was right, the group of Gryffindor students who had shown up to the try-outs were strong. Ginny would have to cut at least five very capable students in order to make a decision.

Upon reaching the castle entrance, Hermione bid Ginny farewell and made her way towards McGonagall's office, eager to learn why the eight years had been summoned there. At fifteen minutes early, she was one of the first to arrive, preceded only by Neville who was engaged in animated conversation with Professor McGonagall.

The remining eighth years soon arrived and McGonagall turned her attention to the group, thanking them for coming. "As part of your return to Hogwarts," she began explaining. "It has been decided that each one of you will have an important role to play in the continuing success of the students here at Hogwarts, as well as your own education."

Hermione suddenly felt very nervous. So far, she had done a fairly good job at blending into the background. She still overheard quiet chattering about her during breakfast and occasionally witnessed the odd student point in her direction. But for the most part, students were leaving her alone and allowed her to attempt to adjust back to her life at Hogwarts.

"My colleagues and I have worked tirelessly to organise this new program and we hope you will embrace it enthusiastically," McGonagall continued. "Each of you have been paired with a professor here at Hogwarts. The pairings have been made based on your existing skills and proficiency in certain areas of study. You can think of yourself as somewhat of an assistant professor. You will be required to assist your allocated professor in any assigned duties and, when your professor deems appropriate, you will be granted the opportunity to teach in the delivery of course work to some of our first and second year students."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the mention of teaching. Before the war, this kind of opportunity would have delighted her. But now, she felt quite the opposite. Unsurprisingly, Hermione's left forearm began to sting as McGonagall continued to explain what this new role would entail. She wondered if she could say no – tell McGonagall that she had no interest in being a professor's assistant and that the very thought of it made her want to dissolve into the very chair in which she sat.

"And just in case anyone is wondering… this is a compulsory program," McGonagall added, as though she'd read Hermione's mind. "Your assigned professor be grading your work and that will go towards your final N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione let out a shaky breath and resigned to her fate. She began hoping to at least get paired with a professor she knew – she supposed that Charms with Professor Flitwick could be bearable. Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid would be even better. She waited with bated breath as McGonagall made her way through the list of students, informing them of the professor they were to report to. She quickly lost Charms to the first student named and she felt a sting of jealousy as Theodore Nott was paired with Hagrid. Neville was paired with Professor Sprout and Hermione forced a smile he expressed his excitement to her.

"Mr Malfoy," she tuned back into McGonagall's voice. "You have been placed in Potions with Professor Slughorn." Malfoy nodded firmly in response but showed little emotion. Hermione supposed that he wouldn't be too displeased with that outcome. After all, Potions was the only subject he'd managed to beat her in during their sixth year – by one measly mark.

"And Ms Granger," McGonagall finally reached her name. "You have been placed in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Brindlemore."

No. Hermione thought as a burning sensation ran through her arm. Anything but that. She had spent enough time defending herself against the dark arts. The last thing she wanted to do was help teach it. McGonagall rattled on some concluding statements but Hermione was actively trying to stave off another panic attack and didn't hear them. Eventually, the other students had made their way out of McGonagall's office and Hermione was left, sitting in her seat, alone.

"Hermione, dear," she heard the voice of McGonagall. "You are dismissed."

Hermione released a heavy breath and looked up at the headmistress. "Please Professor," she suddenly found herself pleading. "I'll take anything but that." She knew it was inappropriate of her to argue but she at least needed to try. McGonagall was not privy to the inner workings of Hermione's mind since the war concluded. She had no idea how much of an internal battle she was fighting every day to keep her trauma from the war buried deeply. And Hermione intended to keep it that way. So, she clarified, "It's just... I don't think I'll be much use there. Harry was always much better at Defence Against the Dark Arts than me… Please Professor, I'm sure I'd do much better at Charms… or, or Transfiguration… I'd even be happy with Divination." She was rambling and, at the end, lying. And McGonagall saw right through her.

"Hermione, dear, I have placed you exactly where I believe you belong," McGonagall reminded her. "I am more than confident that you will do well there and Professor Brindlemore is very excited to work with you."

Hermione had yet to officially meet the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. She had seen Professor Brindlemore at dinner on her first day back and Ginny mentioned liking the first class she had with her. But she couldn't shake the fear that sliced through her like a cold wind and the sense of inadequacy she felt at being placed in such a position. Her heart began to pound faster her breaths kept getting caught in her throat. Fighting the urge to clutch her forearm in pain, she rose from her chair.

"Right, I suppose I will just have to do my best," she lied. "Thank you, Professor." Another lie. McGonagall bid her goodnight and Hermione rushed out of her office, desperate to seek some air. Whilst on the staircase, she was stopped by McGongall's voice, "oh Hermione!" she called after her. "I'd like to see you and Mr Malfoy tomorrow after you're done with your classes. It's about time we discussed your upcoming duties." Hermione muttered a quick "okay" and promised she would inform Malfoy before continuing her journey down the stairs.

Rounding the corner of the head's dormitory, Hermione caught sight of the door opposite the entry that led to a small balcony. Still seeking the comfort of fresh air, she pressed through the door and crashed against the balustrade, releasing a heavy breath that made her chest ache. She pressed her face into her hands, trying to control her breathing as she staved off the tears that had begun to pool.

"Nice of you to join us Granger," she was interrupted by a deep voice to her left, thinking in that moment that the world must have been enjoying cursing her every move. "Cigarette?" the voice belonged to Nott, who held out a packet of muggle cigarettes in her direction.

Nott's left arm leant discerningly against the balustrade of the balcony and Hermione could see a half-used cigarette lying between his first and second fingers. She then caught sight of Malfoy, who stood next to him, leaning against the glass window. His cigarette was being held between his lips but as the two of them made eye contact, he raised his right hand and removed it, blowing smoke in Nott's direction. "Thanks mate," Nott said sarcastically. "Real classy."

When Hermione made no move to accept a cigarette, Nott lowered his arm, pocketing the packet and leaning both arms back on the balustrade. She sighed and puffed out her chest, attempting to conceal the panic that still slithered through her like a snake. "I should put you both on detention for this," she said confidently, for a brief moment, reminding her of her past self.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette and Nott chuckled, turning to face her. "Should?" Nott said questioningly. "Does that mean this is still up for discussion?"

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, glaring away from both boys. She wasn't necessarily surprised to find them both there. It certainly confirmed her suspicions about their frequent short trips outside of the dormitory. Hermione stood there, desperately trying to figure out how she could remove herself from this conversation. And perhaps it was the anxiety taking control or maybe she just wanted a moment to be someone other than herself but Hermione did a very not so Hermione thing. She glanced back at the boys, sighed sharply and plucked the cigarette that sat between Malfoy's fingers, bringing it to her own lips and inhaling deeply. She fought the urge to cough and instead, languished in the feeling of inhaling something so foreign. Almost instantly, the pain in her arm began to settle and she no longer felt the need to scratch it until it inevitably bled through her clothing once again.

Nott raised his eyebrows and laughed. "You know, the offer of a fresh one was still on the table." Hermione rolled her eyes and Malfoy reached into Nott's pocket for the packet of cigarettes, obtaining a new one and lighting it with the tip of his wand.

The three of them stood in silence, taking the occasional drag. It only took five minutes for Hermione's stolen cigarette to burn to close enough to her fingers to no longer be useful. She muttered a quick evanesco to discard the remnants and turned back towards the doors.

"Join us anytime, Granger," Nott said as she indicated her intention to leave. "We're here every day." Hermione ignored the comment and stepped back into the hallway. She had a lot of work to do if she wanted to impress Professor Brindlemore before their first meeting.