not about angels(dramione)

library issues

She would teach. She would become a professor at Hogwarts. She will do what she was trained for. Tomorrow.

Professor Granger.

The title tasted wrong in her mouth, unknown, something foreign. She sighed. Hermione would love to teach children before leaving Hogwarts. But after the practise, she grew annoyed by them. Yet, that couldn't stop her from becoming a professor. Maybe that could mend her heart. Maybe being close to the Hogwarts Library once again would be good for her.

   Hermione raised her eyes to the high shelves and then to the forbitten area. A grin tugged her lips as memories came rushing to her mind. All those seven years.... what could go wrong now? Voldemort was destroyed. He was killed. Now, there was always light. Only light.

    There cannot be light without just a little bit of darkness.

Where did she read that? Hermione couldn't recall, and yet, it was hovering over her mind for days.

She closed her eyes and crossed her arms, pressing her back against one of the library' s chairs. She took deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly each time. She, then, opened her eyes and stared at the rather huge pile of books she'd be gathering from all around the Library for hours now.

All of them were books about Transfiguration with titles like Transfiguration 101, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, Intermediate Transfiguration, A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, Transfiguration and law, Transfiguration and what you need to be afraid of, Transfiguration and what NOT to teach.

She rubbed lazily her eyes, feeling dizzy and tired. Tomorrow was the sorting, the first day. Tomorrow was -2 hours away, she realized. It was already the tomorrow, and she had managed to stay yet another day awake. The sorting was just 12 hours away.

She yawned, stretching her hands, arms and legs. She grabbed her wand from the table and murmured sleepily a spell that would carry her books for her, wingardium leviosa. An imaged of her correcting Ron flashed in her mind but she waved it away; she felt too tired to flashback memories.

Instead, she rushed outside the library, on her way to her corridor.

Her corridor was on the second floor, a hallway away from her office. Her corridor was aside the other corridors of the professor's, each corridor sealed with a portrait whose password changed every week.

Despite her neighbours, she was the only one in the whole floor, just for today, for tonight.

Of course, Hermione did not know who was who, or if some of the old professors were still there.

She slowly walked up the stairs, nearly crawling, on her way to her room. She couldn't wait to lay in bed.

To crush her body to the mat and bury her whole face in her pillow.

She yawned again, stepping on the last steps of the staircase, taking a left turn and walking towards her corridor.

She must have said or did something she does not remember doing because the portrait, a man not so old in a black hat and cloak labeled, at the bottom of the golden portrait, as Lord Hannornd, opened suddenly its eyes and spoke in a harsh tone,''Hey, you, password.''

''Uh, turquoise turtle,'' she managed to murmur, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands.

The portrait rolled its eyes and said, ''Next time, don't come so late, waking up everyone in this hallway. For Merlin's sake.''

It opened, and Hermione waved her wand, sending the books gently at the top of her desk, before entering in.

She walked in and glanced at her ceiling-high bookcase, satisfied, and then collapsed into her bed, dragging herself into a dreamless, null sleep, one hand falling of her bed and the other grabbing tightly her wand, as if it could run away.

if you liked this chapter, don't forget to vote. f you don't, that's fine! Thank you for reading anyway.