The Herald

6

Hermione took a deep breath, standing just outside the large door. McGonagall had escorted her to the spiral staircase, the password making her chuckle. It appeared the new Head of the school had decided to keep the theme of Dumbledore's love of sweets. No one would expect it from the surly Potions' Master. It was quite ingenious, really.

As she raised her hand to knock, she heard the low rumble of his voice from the other side. "Come in, Miss Granger,"

She sighed, pushing the door open. Perhaps she'd invest some time into learning Occlumency. It wouldn't do to have him poking around in her head all the time, would it?

Stepping into the round-shaped room, she stood before his large desk. He was leaned back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, a letter in his hands. There were rimless, rectangular glasses perched on the end of his nose. It was beyond bizarre a sight, if she was honest with herself, seeing him seated the way he was. At ease, the way he was. There was no rigidity to his posture, as there usually was. He was very much relaxed, something she seldom saw in him.

She smiled, her fingers dancing across the top of the desk, catching his attention. He shifted his eyes from the parchment to glance at her. "Reading glasses, really? Gods, you're getting old," she teased, earning a raised eyebrow and smirk.

He set down the letter in his hands, turning his full attention to her, leaning forward on his elbows. "I do believe it is a requirement that all Headmasters wear them, my dear,"

She giggled at his response. He was indulging her in her poor joke. She sat on the corner of his desk, angling her knees toward him. An audacious move on her part, though he merely responded with another raise of that blasted brow. She took a deep breath, treading the waters. How much of this would he allow? They used to have conversations like these all the time. Easy banter between the two of them. Would he permit it still? Only one way to find out... "Oh, please, just admit you're getting old,"

He sniggered, removing the specs, holding them between two fingers. "Old enough to be your father, more like,"

And there it was. He was pushing away her advances. Or was he tempting her to continue?

She shook her head, plucking the glasses from his hand, her fingers grazing his own lightly. "Nonsense. I'll have you know my father is in his mid-fifties. Hardly you, sir," She tried them on, blinking hard a few times as he graced her eardrums with a true chuckle. Merlin, his eyesight was horrid. Not as terrible as Harry's though it was no wonder she hadn't seen him reading small texts these last few years.

The man cleared his throat, coming around his desk to remove the spectacles from her face, tucking a curl away at the same time. "Well, I certainly look the part," he commented, gesturing to the slightest greying in his hair.

Hermione rolled her eyes, hopping off the desk and stepping closer to him, looking directly into his face. "If I may be so bold, sir, age has done you well. Like a fine wine, better with time,"

Insolent. He smirked down at her, shaking his head slowly. She was biting her lip again. Gods, he hated when she did that. To ruin such perfect rosebud lips with bite marks. He wiggled it free from her teeth with his thumb, as he always did, earning a blush from her in response. "That is indeed very bold of you, Miss Granger." He turned away from her, picking up a few rolls of parchment and a rather thick file that he dropped into her hands. "Flattery shall get you nowhere, however,"

With an undignified 'oof', she stumbled at the weight of the stack of papers that had been so unceremoniously dropped on her. She regained her balance quickly, swallowing thickly. "I do not flatter to gain, only where it is rightly due,"