Chapter Text
Hermione
“Here, Hermione, take this,” said Harry quietly, as he pulled her in for a hug at her farewell brunch at the Burrow.
“Harry, what…?” she started, but she felt him shove something in her hand, and when she broke away she looked down to see the familiar, yellowed piece of parchment that she knew contained the Marauder’s Map.
“You’re giving me the Map?” she asked in amazement.
Harry just grinned. “Imagine what kind of power you will be able to wield over your students with this thing.”
Ron had sidled up to them as Harry said this, and he glanced down at the parchment Hermione was holding.
“Bloody hell mate, is that really a good idea?”
Hermione felt a small lurch of annoyance at this. She and Ron were still very good friends of course, but she had learned the hard way that a breakup could change things permanently, even if that breakup had happened years ago and both people had moved on.
“Hermione needs to make a name for herself,” said Harry with a nod. “She’s following in McGonagall’s footsteps. You know McGonagall always seemed to have eyes in the back of her head. Besides, this way she can do teacher patrols without ever having to leave her quarters.”
Even Ron grinned at this. “Fair enough. But don’t tell George, he would never forgive you.”
“Thanks Harry,” said Hermione, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I promise I will put it to good use and not allow it to go to my head.”
Harry just gave her one last grin before moving off to find Ginny. Hermione watched him go with a small smile before turning to Ron.
“Well Ronald? I guess I’ll be seeing you at Christmas then,” she said.
Ron’s mouth thinned a little at this and said, “Right. We’ve done that before.”
Hermione internally winced. They had done that before, and while it wasn't the only reason they had broken up it was certainly the biggest. She had opted to return to Hogwarts for her eighth year and Ron did not. Their relationship did not survive the distance. He wasn’t bitter about it, exactly, but it was still a bit of a sore point between them, even several years later. He seemed to pull himself together though, and he pressed forward.
“Keep in touch and let us know how it goes for you. We all know you’ll be brilliant.”
Hermione gave him a grateful smile before saying goodbye to the others. She cast one final, fond glance around the crowded Weasley kitchen, taking in the sights. Everybody but her was coupled up: Harry and Ginny who had just gotten engaged, Ron and Lavender, Percy and his new girlfriend Audrey, George and his very pregnant wife Angelina, Bill and an even more pregnant Fleur with their toddler Victoire, and even Charley had surprised them by showing up with his new boyfriend named Daniel. They worked on the dragon preserve together, and Hermione thought they were a lovely couple, though it forever killed Mrs. Weasley’s dreams of Hermione joining the family permanently. Ever since Hermione and Ron broke up and made it clear to the rest of the family that it wasn’t happening, Mrs. Weasley had been trying to not-so-subtly set Hermione up with her second son.
Yes, everybody but her had a spouse or fiancé or serious relationship. Everybody but her had somebody waiting for them at home. Hermione did not, but what she did have was an incredible education and an amazing job opportunity thanks to her former Head of House: Hermione was officially joining the staff of Hogwarts as a student teacher before taking over the role of Transfiguration Professor permanently the following academic year.
As an almost-twenty-two-year-old witch, Hermione knew it was an incredible chance, and she would be foolish not to take it. And in any event, she had been working toward it ever since Professor McGonagall approached her the summer before her eighth year at Hogwarts, just after the war ended. Professor McGonagall explained that with Dumbledore and now Snape both dead, the Hogwarts Board of Governors was appointing her as Interim Headmistress, with the appointment to be finalized once she found a Transfiguration Professor to take over the course for her. The problem, unsurprisingly, was that between the war and the disrupted education at Hogwarts from the prior year, qualified applicants were thin on the ground. Professor McGonagall proposed that Hermione train to be her successor, with the understanding that she would complete her final year at Hogwarts, then spend two years in specialized training with Professor McGonagall personally as an apprentice. Upon completion of that, Hermione would officially join the staff as a student teacher for one year while Professor McGonagall transitioned toward a more administrative role, and then finally she could take over as a fully qualified professor, and Professor McGonagall would move into her role as Headmistress full-time.
The Board of Governors had not been terribly thrilled with the plan, as it would take a full four years to complete. However, with no other real alternative and the promise of the Golden Girl joining the staff of Hogwarts at the end, they eventually agreed to it, and Hermione threw herself into her work.
She had exceeded even Professor McGonagall’s expectations, with one of the highest scoring Transfiguration NEWTs on record, and during her two-year apprenticeship with Professor McGonagall she trained to become a registered animagus, among other things. Just like Professor McGonagall, Hermione could now turn herself into a cat, though she was a solid black one with hazel eyes. Between that and the Marauder’s Map Harry had just given her, Hermione knew that the rule-breaking students of Hogwarts wouldn’t stand a chance with Professor Granger on the case. She would never be seen in the shadows of Hogwarts.
Yes, Hermione was excited for this new opportunity, and she would never trade it for the world. But as she looked around the Burrow for the last time, she couldn’t help but feel a bit lonely that this was to be her fate. While there was no rule that the staff at Hogwarts be single, many of them ended up that way just by happenstance, based largely on the fact that the four Heads of House had to live on campus while school was in session, and many other professors opted to do so as well as a matter of convenience. Spouses weren't allowed to live on campus unless they taught there too, so Hogwarts had become the landing place for many a single academic.
Hermione herself had lived with Harry at Grimmauld Place during her apprenticeship, but now that she was moving into her role as student teacher, she had chosen to go ahead and move back to Hogwarts and into the teachers’ quarters to be with the rest of the staff. She might as well get used to it.
As far as Hermione knew, not a single professor at Hogwarts was currently married, though according to Hogwarts, A History, this wasn’t always the case. The professors who were not Heads of House could technically live off-campus and floo in each day, so every once in awhile a married professor did cross the threshold. Still, it was rare, and Hermione had known when she accepted the plan that her job would pose problems for her in the romance department long-term. While she wouldn’t be a Head of House this year, Professor McGonagall planned to pass it to her the following year once Hermione had completed her student teaching, and then Hermione would be required to live on campus whenever school was in session in case any Gryffindors needed her at night. When she accepted Professor McGonagall’s proposal initially, she had rather optimistically hoped that she and Ron would be able to make a go of it, perhaps with him moving to Hogsmeade to be nearby. But that had never worked out, and she hadn’t dated anybody else seriously during those two years she spent apprenticing with Professor McGonagall.
So here she was: off to Hogwarts, without a boyfriend, and high odds of decades of spinsterhood ahead of her.
It will be fine, she told herself. My studies and my students will be enough.
And it was true, she thought. Really, it would be fine. She would have the other professors for company and Professor McGonagall especially. More than anybody else, Hermione had grown unexpectedly close to Professor McGonagall in the years following the war, and their teacher-student relationship had grown into something that resembled more mother-daughter by the end of it. It would be wonderful to be so close to her mentor, and it wasn’t like she was trapped in the castle year-round. She could still leave its premises on the weekends and during school breaks in the unlikely event she ever did meet someone she wanted to date. And if she didn’t, she wouldn’t complain about it. Professor McGonagall had seemed content with her lot in life, and Hermione would be too. She didn’t need a boyfriend to be happy.
Hermione took one last glance back before throwing floo powder into the fireplace and stepping in with her trunk.
“Hogwarts, Headmistress’s office!” she cried, and she felt herself spinning along the familiar journey to Hogwarts that she had been taking for the last two years.
When she arrived she stepped out smartly onto the rug.
“Hermione, so lovely to see you,” said Professor McGonagall as she looked up.
“Thank you, Professor, I’m excited to be here.”
Her mentor gave her a small smile. “Well, first thing’s first. You are now a member of staff, so you must address me as Minerva. I believe we are all equal here, and there is no need for formality now that I am no longer your professor.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, but then she gave Profess… no, Minerva, a broad smile.
“That may take some practice… Minerva. But I will try.”
“Very good,” she said. “I insist that all the staff call each other by their first names in our quarters and in staff meetings. We do use last names in front of the students of course, but we see each other so much outside of class that I feel it really helps us all be congenial with one another if we can use first names in private.”
Hermione nodded, now wondering why Minerva was emphasizing this so much, but Hermione certainly wasn’t going to question it.
“Very well. And I trust that you will be cordial and professional with other members of the staff at all times, especially in front of the students. We may have personal differences with each other now and then, but conflicts must be worked out privately so as to not disrupt the learning environment.”
Hermione just stared now, hearing the not-so-subtle warning between her words. Hermione thought quickly about who on staff Minerva must be referring to. “Of course, Minerva. I will be professional and cordial with Professor Trelawney. Please don’t worry about that.”
“It’s Sybill,” said Minerva with a slight smile before she turned serious again. “But very well. And if you experience excessive rudeness or conflict with any other member of the staff you may report it to me. I will not tolerate it.”
“Yes of course,” said Hermione, mentally telling herself that Trelawney’s comments about Hermione’s clouded inner eye would not rise to the level of “excess conflict” that would warrant reporting it to Minerva.
Deal with it Hermione. You’re about a thousand times smarter than she is.
“Rest assured I will be communicating this with all members of staff, both new and returning,” she said.
“New?” asked Hermione curiously. “Other than me you mean?”
Now Minerva gave her another small smile. “You will see in due course. I imagine everyone will be at the feast tonight. Now then, why don’t you go make yourself at home? While I certainly can’t play favorites in any official capacity, I will say that you have arrived first and therefore you can have first pick of rooms among our new staff.”
Hermione was a bit amused by this. She had arrived exactly on time, which meant Minerva had arranged it that way. Still, she wasn’t complaining. Minerva had informed her in her official offer letter that room accommodations would be fixed, with future moves only permitted as staff turned over or the occasion warranted it. Given the very low turnover rate at Hogwarts, Hermione knew her room choice would be permanent until further notice.
“That sounds great. Will you be showing me, or…?”
“Fender!” called Minerva, and a small house elf appeared with a CRACK!
Hermione was bemused by the name, wondering if anybody but her picked up on the muggle reference.
“Fender, please show Professor Granger to the staff quarters and the available rooms for her choice.”
“Of course, Headmistress!” squeaked the little elf, and he — for Hermione thought Fender was probably a he — snapped his fingers and Hermione’s trunk lifted off the ground, and Fender levitated it for her, as he lead her out of Minerva’s office and down the adjoining corridor to a door that was immediately adjacent to the staff room.
“Interhouse unity!” squeaked the little elf, and the door swung open, as Hermione stepped in to find a truly luxurious common area decked out in the colors of all four houses.
"Tis the staff common room, Professor,” said Fender. “The door there goes to the staff lounge, which is where staff meetings are held and which students can get into. But no students are permitted in the staff common room.”
Hermione nodded at this, noting that the staff common room had several large tables, some comfortable chairs, and even a rather elaborate bar area with drinks and snacks.
“If you is having any beverage or snack preferences we can provide it Professor,” said the little elf. " We is also serving meals privately here or in your room if you is preferring not to eat with the students.”
“Oh I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” said Hermione.
“Professor must suits herself,” said Fender. “But if you is needing a meal at off times you has only to call Fender, and one will be provided.”
“Thank you, Fender.”
“I is showing you the rooms now Professor,” said the elf, and he led Hermione down a corridor with a series of doors along both walls.
“The available rooms are at the end here Professor,” said Fender, and he showed Hermione three doors all in a row.
Curious now, Hermione opened the first door and wasn’t terribly surprised to find a much larger space behind the door than the hallway suggested. It reminded her a bit of the tent she had camped in with Harry and Ron: it looked like a normal muggle tent from the outside but the inside was rather cavernous.
Sure enough, Hermione saw a large, handsomely appointed room with a four poster bed, window seat, and large desk and bookcase near a sitting area with a small fireplace. The windows looked out over the lawn, and there was even a small balcony through a pair of glass doors. She saw the room had an attached en suite bath that was moderately sized and more than sufficient for one person.
Hermione smiled to herself, thinking that she truly would never need to leave, as Fender led her to the room next to it, which appeared to be nearly identical to the first.
Then he led her to the third room, on the very end, and Hermione let out a small gasp when she went inside.
It wasn’t quite as large as the other two rooms, but unlike the other two it must have been in the corner of the castle. The windows wrapped around two sides, giving her a spectacular and unobstructed view of the lawn and lake, with the mountains in the background. The balcony for this room also wrapped around on both sides, making it easily twice as large as the balcony for the other two rooms.
She looked around the room and saw there was still a bookcase and desk, though it was a bit smaller than the other two rooms. The sitting area and fireplace was the same size though, and that was the thing that Hermione cared about. Hermione eyed her trunk and knew the smaller desk and bookshelves wouldn’t be a problem. She had cast an undetectable extension charm on her trunk and had unlimited amount of space for her things. Besides, she had always preferred to study in the common room when she was a student at Hogwarts. She could always make use of one of the large tables there if she really needed to spread out.
The bathroom, surprisingly, was actually a bit larger than the other two rooms and featured a separate tub and makeup vanity in addition to the standalone shower and sink. It also seemed distinctly feminine, compared to the other two bathrooms she had seen.
“This one, Fender,” said Hermione, already in love with her new room.
Fender wiggled his ears. “Headmistress thought you would pick this one. Please let Fender know if you need assistance unpacking.”
“I’m fine, Fender, thank you. I’ll come down for the start of term feast.”
Fender nodded and disappeared with a CRACK! while Hermione looked around at her new home. Taking a deep breath she opened her trunk and started to get to work.
******
Draco
“You are the Malfoy heir! Your responsibility is to your family and the fortune! You are supposed to be getting married, producing your heir, and managing our holdings Draco, not throwing your life away like this!”
Draco Malfoy allowed his father’s words to wash over him as he stared at the small window of light just over his father’s shoulder.
In truth, Draco could hardly believe he was doing this himself, but then again, if the year of Ministry-mandated mind healing after the war had taught Draco anything it was that his father was a shit parent. Sure, he loved Draco in his own way, but love didn’t necessarily translate to quality parenting. Lucius had always done this: direct Draco, command Draco, plan Draco’s entire life for him, and place family burdens on Draco’s shoulders that should never have been his to deal with in the first place.
The year of mandatory mind healing - which had turned into two more years of voluntary mind healing - had given Draco some perspective on this. And after much consideration and discussion with his mind healer about it, Draco decided that an excellent use of the extensive Malfoy fortune would be to hire a quality solicitor, accountant, and financial advisor so that the Malfoy interests could be put on autopilot while Draco did something for himself for once. Sure, he still met with them now and then to stay in the loop, but he found they did an excellent job when left to their own devices. The Malfoy fortune and business interests were secure, and it allowed Draco to enjoy the fruits of his family’s fortune without being stuck in business meetings and greasing palms for the rest of his adult life.
Work smarter, not harder.
Of course, he had never informed his father of this — not that his father could have stopped Draco if he wanted to. Lucius was three years into a twenty-five year Azkaban sentence. Given the length of time of his sentence, he had turned everything over to Draco to control once his sentence commenced. Draco, in a rare show of strength against his father, had accepted it but only on the condition it would become irrevocable. Lucius wouldn’t be getting control back if he ever made it out of Azkaban before he died. Lucius hadn’t been thrilled with this arrangement, but he couldn’t adequately manage the fortune while in prison. He had had no choice except to cede control over to Draco under Draco’s terms, and then Draco had proceeded to run things his own way and largely cut his father out of it.
Still, the fact that Draco was moving to Hogwarts this afternoon would probably make the papers, so Draco thought it was finally time to tell Lucius what he had really been doing for the past three years. He didn’t fancy getting a howler at Hogwarts if Lucius read it in The Daily Prophet first. His father, rather unfortunately, had negotiated delivery of the paper on a daily basis as part of his plea deal with the Ministry. He wanted to keep an eye on things, even if he couldn’t do anything about them.
“Potions!” shouted Lucius. “Potions!”
Another five minutes of this, and he’ll be frothing at the mouth, thought Draco a bit dispassionately.
“No Malfoy has ever done something so mundane! A teacher? You must be joking Draco!”
Again Draco said nothing as his father’s rant continued. Sure enough, he worked himself up into a fervor, and soon the spit was flying as his eyes bulged.
Huh. That only took three minutes, thought Draco with some mild interest.
He glanced at his watch.
“Time’s up, I must be going,” said Draco as he turned around.
“DON’T YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME YOU UNGRATEFUL…”
But Lucius’s shouts were fading now as Draco made his way back through the security checkpoint with the Azkaban guard. He said nothing as he picked up his wand at the exit and stepped out onto the gray courtyard, the wind whipping at his robes as he walked toward the dock and boarded the creaky boat with a grimace. Twenty minutes and a rather unfortunate amount of nausea later, Draco had left the island with Azkaban behind him, and not for the first time he felt a bit like he was being reborn as he stepped off the boat and back into the sunlight of the harbor on the other side of the small sea. Azkaban and its surrounding waters were perpetually gray and cold, even on a glorious day such as this.
He thanked the boatman and then turned on the spot, apparating back to Wiltshire, where he stared up at Malfoy Manor with another grimace. Sighing to himself, he waved his hand at the gate and strode up the lane, until he reached the front doors, which opened for him.
“Sully!” he said, and immediately a small house elf appeared.
“Yes, Master!”
“Sully, I’ll be leaving for Hogwarts in a moment. How is Mother?”
“Mistress has taken to her bed, sir. She is not feeling well.”
Ah yes. The shock of my new job was too much for her to bear. Classic Narcissa.
“Should I call a healer?” he asked a bit wryly.
“No Master, Sully does not believe so. Sully thinks she will be revived in good time.”
“Very well, please keep an eye on her. If she doesn’t send a letter to me by tomorrow morning, please call a healer.”
“Very good sir,” said the little elf.
“Excellent, please collect my trunk, and I’ll be off in a moment.”
The elf disappeared with a CRACK! and reappeared a moment later with a handsome trunk, monogrammed with Draco’s initials. The elf levitated it for him to the fireplace, and Draco grabbed it as he threw some powder into the fireplace and stepped into the floo. A moment later he was staring at Minerva McGonagall.
“Draco,” she said, nodding her head.
“Professor,” he replied.
“Please, you will call me Minerva. As I have already told our other new staff members, we go by first names when speaking to each other to build camaraderie. Last names are reserved for students.”
Draco shifted a little uncomfortably but said, “Very well… Minerva.”
“Very good. And as you and I have previously had extensive discussions about expectations and conduct, I feel there is nothing more for us to say at the moment. I need to be heading to the start of term feast shortly. Fender!”
A little elf appeared at her call.
“Please direct Professor Malfoy to his quarters.”
The elf bobbed and motioned Draco to follow. The elf led him down the hall to a door Draco had never entered before, and he was surprised to see a large, but handsome common room before the elf led him down an adjacent hall toward a door near the very end.
“This is your room, sir!” he said, and Draco opened the door a bit curiously. He was surprised, but not displeased, to find a room even larger than the one that was his at Malfoy Manor. The four poster bed was made out of mahogany, and the large desk and bookcase made Draco sigh in relief. He would be able to work in his room and wouldn’t be forced to use the common room tables. The attached en suite bathroom was smaller than he had at home, but perfectly sufficient, and in any event he wouldn’t have to share. That was an unexpected perk, given the way the student dorms were arranged.
“Sir is the last professor to arrive!” said Fender. “The start of term feast will begin in a few minutes. Sir should go down, and Fender will unpack Sir’s things.”
Draco looked at the elf curiously.
“Fender has met Sully sir,” he explained. “Sully explained that Sir prefers elf help with this task.”
“Ah,” said Draco. “In that case, did Sully mention…”
“Yes sir,” said Fender. “Though we do not need to bring one in for you, sir. The house elves repaired the Room of Requirement last year, and it should serve your needs sir.”
“The Room of Requirement?” he asked curiously.
“Sir may know it as the Room of Hidden Things.”
Draco stilled, as he felt his stomach clench at this. Now he knew exactly what Fender was talking about.
“There’s one in the Room of Hidden Things?” he said carefully. “I don’t recall seeing one in there.”
“Ah, not necessarily, sir. But the Room does not always take that shape. Tis why house elves call it the Room of Requirement or the Come and Go Room. Sir simply has to ask the Room for whatever he wants when he calls it.”
Draco blinked. He had never tried to make the Room be anything but the place with the Vanishing Cabinet, where he spent most of sixth year repairing it. But it sounded like the Room didn’t necessarily show itself the same way each time. Draco felt his stomach unclench a little.
“Very well, thank you Fender. I’ll try it soon and let you know if it’s suitable.”
Fender nodded and then shoo’d Draco out to the start of term feast. Draco exhaled and steeled himself for this.
This will be the worst night, he told himself. They’ll all be surprised, but it will get better from here.
He wasn’t expecting a terribly warm welcome. Minerva had made that clear. But despite that, when Horace Slughorn told Draco it was high time he return to his retirement, Draco couldn’t help but agree to come on board as a student teacher. He was desperate to escape the Manor and do something different with his life than what his parents had planned for him. He had signed a two-year, binding magical contract: one year to student teach and another year to actually teach. He and Minerva had agreed that they would assess at the end of the first year, and if it wasn’t going well, they would bring in another student teacher to train under Draco for his second year, and they would part ways from there.
I can do anything for two years.
And he could. He had lived with the Dark Lord in his home for two years. If he could survive that, he could surely survive being the least popular professor at Hogwarts for two years if the students and staff really didn't like him. That would be child’s play by comparison. And after the initial shock wore off, the students and staff would surely get used to it to some degree, even if he wasn't terribly popular. They would have to. Besides, nearly anything was better than being stuck in the Manor with his mother’s histrionics and matchmaking schemes.
After the shock of war ended, Draco found it was an oddly lonely existence being the heir to an old title and the head of a vast family fortune. Over the years even sex had lost much of its appeal as it became increasingly clear to Draco that the only thing others wanted from him was money and social standing. Perhaps at Hogwarts he would find somebody to talk to. And if not, his students would be forced to interact with him. He may not be a favorite at Hogwarts, but he also wouldn’t be stuck in a large house by himself with only his mother and Horace Slughorn for company. Besides, his mind healer thought it was a great way to combat Draco's loneliness. And over the years Draco had learned to listen to his mind healer.
Shaking himself out of it, Draco strode out of his room, through the still-empty staff common room and out into the hallway, which was helpfully close to the Great Hall. He took another deep breath and opened the door, as hundreds of heads turned to stare at him. The upperclass students had all arrived, though thankfully he hadn’t missed the sorting. He realized the staff table was nearly full, though Professor Flitwick was missing, presumably to bring the first year students into the Great Hall at any moment.
It was now that he scanned the staff table for an empty seat, and his eyes landed on the only seat available. It was in between Professor Slughorn and…
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Hermione fucking Granger was staring at him like she had just been petrified by a basilisk. And to be fair to Draco, he knew what she looked like when she was petrified by a basilisk, having seen her that way in the hospital wing during second year. The similarity in her expression from then and now was truly astonishing.
He swallowed and didn’t say anything, as he walked briskly over and sank down into the chair before staring at his plate. He felt her stiffen next to him, but she pointedly turned away and started chatting determinedly to the person on the other side of her, which Draco now saw was Neville Longbottom.
Fucking Longbottom too? Goddammit.
Draco had had several meetings with Minerva about “conduct” and “appropriate behavior,” but he assumed it was just the whole ex-Death Eater thing. But no, this was why she felt the need to lecture him extensively before offering him the student teaching job. He was going to be living and working with one-third of the Golden Trio and their second-in-command Longbottom.
Fuck my life.
That two year magical contract was suddenly feeling rather longer than it had just moments ago. But then he thought about his mother’s last round of attempted matchmaking that resulted in Draco locking himself in his room for three days, and he gritted his teeth. Even two years with Granger and Longbottom would be better than that. Besides, they had all attended Hogwarts together during eighth year, and they managed to get through the entire year without saying a single word to each other. Surely he could do the same thing this time, or mostly at any rate. Any interactions he was forced to have with them, and with Granger in particular, would be strictly professional.
Silence fell as the first years made their way into the Great Hall. Draco barely listened as they were sorted, still uncomfortably aware of Granger sitting next to him.
Out of the corner of his eye he studied her. She was shorter than he remembered, or perhaps he had just gotten taller in the two years since he had last seen her. Her hair, which had always been so bushy, appeared to be tamed into ringlets and was cut shorter than he had ever seen before. Her skin was still that same light caramel color. She had always been able to hold a tan better than most of the pureblood girls, which was something that they criticized her for in the Slytherin common room over the years. But though Draco would never admit it out loud, he had always thought her skin gave her a healthy color. She looked like she lived in the sun. He caught the slightest whiff of something flowery and citrusy as she clapped for the student who had just been sorted and adjusted in her chair, and Draco automatically closed his eyes to catalog the scent.
Definitely verbena and grapefruit. Maybe jasmine and… amber.
To Draco’s sensitive nose, which had been further trained during his potions mastery, it smelled nothing short of incredible. He shook himself out of it as Minerva stood to give the start of term speech. Draco tuned her out until she got to the relevant introductions.
“...and I am pleased to announce that we have two student teachers this year, as well as an apprentice who we expect will move into a student teaching role next year. Each of our student teachers and future student teacher are here to train as part of a long-term succession plan to enable the retirement and advancement of current teachers. First, we have Neville Longbottom, who has decided to complete his final year of his Herbology apprenticeship in residence here at Hogwarts, with Professor Sprout.”
There was a smattering of applause at this, and then McGonagall continued. “Next, taking on the role of student teacher for Transfiguration is Professor Hermione Granger.”
The room erupted at this, though Draco noted that quite a few Slytherins were whispering, with dissatisfied expressions on their faces.
“Yes, thank you. Professor Granger will be student teaching with me and next year will be the Transfiguration Professor full time while I move into the role of Headmistress.”
Another round of applause, and then Draco’s stomach tensed.
“And finally, we have Professor Draco Malfoy, who will be student teaching in Potions and will be moving to the role of Potions Professor next year after Professor Slughorn returns to his retirement.”
Immediately the Great Hall broke out with whispers and muttering, and Draco just forced himself to stare straight ahead.
“And I should add that Professor Malfoy has also agreed to teach flying to the first years and serve as referee for the interhouse quidditch matches. As you may have heard, Madame Hooch had an unfortunate fall just before the start of term that resulted in her early retirement.”
At this, there were horrified gasps from three of the four tables, though the Slytherins started to cheer. Draco felt his mouth twitch. He had no intention of favoring Slytherin House in quidditch, but he was sure they wouldn’t believe it until he had gotten through the entire season.
Minerva then clapped her hands and the feast appeared. Draco helped himself to some food and managed to make it through the entire dinner without saying a single word to Granger or Longbottom and only talking minimally to Horace.
Eventually, the feast began to wind down, and Granger suddenly stood, so Draco automatically stood too.
She turned to look at him squarely now, apparently startled by what he had just done, and silver eyes met hazel.
No, not hazel, he realized. Gold. Her eyes are fucking gold.
She blinked, and he just raised an eyebrow, as she hurried off, that curiously wonderful scent wafting his way once more as she passed him. Draco glanced down and saw Longbottom staring at him in confusion. He barely resisted rolling his eyes.
Honestly, you would never know Longbottom is a pureblood with his shit manners.
Standing whenever a witch left the table was so instinctive for Draco that he did it unconsciously. He was sure Augusta Longbottom had made sure her grandson had received all the etiquette lessons too, but evidently they had not stuck.
Refusing to be embarrassed by the fact that he had been raised with actual manners, Draco sat back down again. He took a deep breath and then helped himself to one last serving of dessert before calling it himself and making his way back to his room.
As usual, Draco was feeling overly full and sleepy after the feast, and he was quite looking forward to having a lie-in in the morning. This was a rare year when the first of September fell on a Saturday so they would all get the following day off, or mostly at any rate. Minerva had scheduled a staff meeting, but it wasn’t until the afternoon. He would have the whole morning free. Perhaps he would go flying.
Bolstered by this happy prospect, he quickly stripped down to his boxers, climbed into bed, and sank down into the mattress. He allowed his mind to wander and was just drifting off to sleep when he heard it.
A scream. A female scream. A very familiar female scream that he had heard in his own nightmares on and off for the past three years.
It was very faint, but it was there, coming through the wall on the other side of the room. He would recognize Hermione Granger’s screams anywhere.
Without even registering what he was doing, Draco yanked the covers off and raced out of his room and into the hallway. He realized Granger had been assigned the room at the very end of the hall, immediately next to his. Without thinking about it further he yanked her door open and rushed in, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw it was just a nightmare. She was still screaming, but clearly asleep, as she thrashed around in the sheets. Draco would have bet half his gold in Gringotts that he knew what she was dreaming about.
“Granger,” he said, moving toward her.
“Granger! GRANGER!”
He shook her, and she sat up with a gasp. With reflexes he could hardly believe, but that he knew were borne from war, she pulled her wand out from under her pillow and aimed it directly at his head as she breathed hard. Instinctively, Draco raised his hands in the air.
“I… Malfoy?”