Pendulum

Chapter 3

Hermione bit her lip. The students were arriving, glowering and whispering about the person sitting in the Dumbledore's chair. By extension, the defence chair; her chair. Her first class was the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years, including none of than Remus Lupin.

Hermione saw his slightly grubby robe from a mile away as he walked into the classroom and shot her a discreet thumbs up. She smiled widely at him, her chocolate eyes glowing with warmth.

Soon, three fourths of the seats were filled, and a girl with flaming red hair raised a tentative hand. The small whispering of the class soon dispersed, as if sensing what the girl was going to ask.

"Yes, Miss..." Hermione began, her smile dying on her face. She had a very good idea who the seventh year was. Her emerald eyes shone holes into Hermione's skull and she had to physically stop herself from recoiling with familiarity. Her heart stopped for just a second before she was able to go on.

"Evans," she supplied. "I've never seen you before in my life. I'm Head Girl, you see, and you can't be sitting in the Headmaster's chair. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She ignored Remus who was looking at Lily and willing her to stop talking with his eyes.

Despite that, Hermione managed a small, forced laugh. "That is very considerate of you, Miss Evans, however this is not Albus's chair. It is mine." There was a pause of silence as the students slowly realized the implications.

"Class," Hermione continued, not missing a beat, "I am Professor Lovett, and I will teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."

There was a sudden uproar, especially in the area mainly dominated by Slytherins. There was a clearly cut line between the red and green and Hermione had no intent to side with either. Her eyes were narrowed into slits of hazel and without much preparation she cast sonorous.

"Quiet!" She bellowed at the top of her lungs, every syllable potent with magical power. Any previous whispering had died into nothing, and Lily Evans's face was as red as her hair.

"I'm sorry Professor," she said, looking rather horrified. "I didn't know you were teaching this class." Hermione accepted the apology with a graceful bob of her head, deeply aware of Slytherin politics and how they would react if she would respond.

"Now, students," Hermione continued, but didn't get more than a few words out of her lips. A blonde student stood, even slower than she could have anticipated. She silently turned to face him, her smile curved into a cold smile and her eyes glinting icily.

"Yes, Mr..." She said, but was rudely broken off. It was a wonder he had made it into Slytherin, his tactics were so brashly Gryffindor that she almost snorted.

"Malfoy." His voice was curt, deep and menacing and though he was almost a foot taller than her Hermione found it incredibly difficult to be intimidated by him.

"You are not fit to teach this class," he continued, his voice bordering on furious. "My father - " Hermione, at this point, couldn't resist the small chuckle that broke through her frozen persona. A few Gryffindors snickered at Lucius Malfoy's enraged expression.

Hermione quickly molded her face into the neutral mask she had long perfected.

"My father," Malfoy continued, trying not to snarl, "had already appointed a Defence Professor. Your services are unneeded, Lovett." It was the way he sneered her last name, the disgust clear in his voice as he made it abundantly clear that it wasn't a pureblood name.

That, was in fact, was thing that made her fury swell. With that one word, he had managed to disrespect her and two of her closest friends, and most importantly, the parents they had treasured and watched killed.