Professor

{5}

{5~Schooling}

The next morning was more of a rude awakening than she wanted it to be. Hermione awoke two hours before classes started, plenty of time to do what she needed. Then she began to wonder if it truly was enough time. For her job at the ministry, it would have been, but what of Hogwarts? The professor's always looked composed when they taught them, and their composure lasted the whole day... no tired eyes or removal of excess clothing. Hermione forgot she was a witch momentarily. As was everyone who taught in that school.

With vigor, though, Hermione got up for breakfast and ushered herself into her room's bath. It took no more than a few spells and some stern determination to pick her teaching robes. Of course, something slimming like McGonagall's attire had been her first choice, and with her hair taught atop her head, it wasn't hard to look stunning. In her opinion, that is.

First, she luckily remembered, Hermione had to take a quick peak into Gryffindor tower and awaken all the students, telling them of their new Head of House.

"Why! Miss Granger, how lovely to see you!" The Fat Lady at the entrance to the common room exclaimed, her voice rich and luxurious as she poured over the young witch's appearance.

"May I enter?" Hermione asked quickly, knowing conversation with the woman was quite nearly infinite when engaged.

"Of course."

The portrait swung open with ease, and Hermione stepped through the threshold to an old place of warmth where students were mingling about and the lights were up on high. Some were scrambling through bags, others were neatly awaiting friends with everything in a perfect pile of books and quills. Hermione couldn't help but smile at the young ones in robes, bright Gryffindor-red the seemingly only color that existed in the room.

"Good morning!" She called to the students, drawing their attention.

She cast a few spells, and sooner than later, the whole of the tower could hear her.

"Good morning Miss Granger."

Hermione tried not to look enthralled and mortified at the same time as she spoke to her students, all of whom she would have and hold like McGonagall did for herself. It was amazing, seeing their glittering or lackluster eyes depending on the student. Yet they listened, and eventually she was gone from there, ready to head to the Great Hall through the professor's entrance.

It wasn't long before every student was there, either, timetables in hand, groans and shouts of excitement alike ringing through. The vision was spectacular, and it was no wonder why Dumbledore smiled every single time he sat in front of the students. Even in the dark times.

To be brutally honest with herself, Hermione was mortified for her first class, though. They were first years, true, but would they consider her a professor or a war heroine and try to get her autograph? No one had done that yet, and thank Merlin, because it happened to her plenty on the streets. Maybe the fact that she would be giving them essays and loads of homework made them reconsider their fan-status.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione hadn't noticed that everyone had vacated the area, and that Severus had been standing behind her, his hand now placed on her shoulder. Immediately, Hermione felt the sting of a blush tinging the pale of her cheeks. She tried to hide it, but of course, it didn't help when he took a step closer.

"Severus," she seemed to languidly say, a smile on his visage surprising her further.

"Your worry is practically yelling at me."

It took her a few seconds to remember that Severus Snape was an Occlumens and Legillimens, but Hermione knew he wasn't that talented. She probably just looked more nervous than anyone he'd ever seen.