"Please turn your books to page two hundred and fifteen," Hermione said loudly, projecting her voice across the classroom. It was her fourth class of the week, and her nerves slightly lessened. While they still were there, she grew more confident with every class. Though this was the group of students she was most worried of, first years. Being second of the day she felt that there was a lot more pressure to keep the students from falling asleep through the rest of their day's classes. "For the next month we will start with learning about these walls. Hogwarts, a history, is lengthy. But we will start with something I'm sure all of you have some grasp at. Can anyone guess what that is?"

There was a very brief pause of silence before a hand shot in the air, Hermione smiled, as a young boy peeked between his classmates. "Is it the founders Professor Granger?"

"You're correct…?" She hesitated.

"Wilbur Gibbs, Professor." He smiled bashfully. He was a sweet looking boy, thick brown hair, and lots of freckles dotting his slightly chubby cheeks. Wilbur had a sparkle in his baby blue eyes, Hermione couldn't help but admire the spirit there.

"Well Mr. Gibbs, you are absolutely correct. Now who can tell me who are the founder of their house, Slytherins? We will start with you." She called out to the left half of the room. After a while one girl hesitantly put her hand half up.

"Salazar Slytherin." She said timidly.

"Very good, Miss?" Hermione prodded, she recognized her immediately.

"Matilda Prewett, ma'am." The young Slytherin was tall for her age, even sitting she sat high above the boys around her, long straight red hair. She was a cousin to Ron, and Hermione gave the girl a knowing smile, which seemed to ease her nerves. Hermione remembered her from Bill and Fleur's wedding and she remembered watching Matilda dancing on her father's feet, he had passed during the war unfortunately, but she was shorter when Hermione last saw her, still retaining the same sweetness about her though. The kind that Hermione recognized Molly having. There was something about the Prewett women that just set them up to become incredible witches.

"Now for the Gryffindors?" She turned to the right side, and Wilbur's hand shot up again eagerly.

"Godric Gryffindor, Professor." He was confident, the same way she was at that age. Hermione had definite flashbacks to her years, annoying every fiber of Professor Snape's being with her Know-it-all attitude. She could see the looks in his fellow student's eyes that they already couldn't stand him.

"Very good Mr. Gibbs, and Miss. Prewett." Hermione smiled at her class. "Now, lets begin with the page in front of you." She briefly looked at the seating arrangement in front of her. "Mr. Nott, can you please start us off with the first paragraph please." She sat back in her chair to follow along on the lesson, pausing when necessary. The first lesson would always be the most boring, but it was needed. Hermione dotted down notes beside her. As the lesson ended, she stood up from her desk, opting to stand in front of it now. "Now, I want to hear from you. Write on parchment what you want to learn about most, what really speaks to you about the history of magic. This was I will be sure to make sure everyone gets to hear about what they want to. You may choose to be anonymous, but by signing it as yourself you will give me a bit of insight on who you are. What peaks your interest about my class." She paused looked at them, wide eyed and clearly overwhelmed. "You won't have to hand this in till next week though, so don't worry, and take your time. It must be one hundred words long; which I assure you will be the shortest homework you will have to do in your time at Hogwarts." Some of her students groaned at the mention of longer homework. "Now go, head to lunch and I will see you next week! Where we get to learn of the magical laws! Exciting stuff I promise." She yelled out at the majority got up quickly to leave her class.

She sat down only to have Wilbur bowl over the other first years to get to her desk. "Professor Granger?"

"Yes, Mr. Gibbs?" she smiled, leaning in towards him.

"Does it have to be one hundred words or less?" he said, and Hermione could sense his anxiousness.

"You know what? I'll let you make it longer if its easier for you, only if you can promise me that you'll write it out in two hundred words or less." He looked relieved by this.

"You bet Professor!" he smiled brightly, the gap between his two front teeth large. "I'll see you next week!" he called out enthusiastically as he practically ran out of the classroom. Hermione just chuckled to herself, astonished at how much he was like her at that age.

Sitting on top of one of the many stations throughout the greenhouses, Hermione kicked her feet out, coming no where near the floor. The Sunday morning was heavy with humidity, magic practically humming in the air. She dressed sensibly this time, only hiding her wardrobe with thick robes now hanging across the room. "Which one is this again?" Neville called out to her, hoisting a bag of fertilizer over his shoulder, groaning a bit at the weight.

"Wilbur Gibbs," Hermione laughed at him, his face turning red at the effort. "Are you sure you don't need help? You know you can always use magic?"

"No, but thank you. I like to do things the difficult way don't you know?" Neville smiled through the pain of it, throwing the bag down onto the table beside Hermione. Almost making her lift up into the air, she just raised her hands. "Dragon manure." Neville pointed to the bag.

"He's hilarious Neville, you'll love him. Just like a mini-me." Hermione smiled at him as he ripped open the bag, its pungent scent filling the air. "You should've seen his first paper of the year; I swear he must've rewritten it ten times to make it exactly two hundred words."

"You know we could've always seen each other after?" Neville reminded her, seeing the way her face scrunched up at the foul odor.

"I haven't seen you in almost two weeks. You know I'll take all the time I can with you." Hermione blushed a bit, turning to look at the floor. "Plus, I can't always talk to you without Professor Weasley butting in." Truth be told, Percy was growing on her. He wasn't as bland as he once was, and there were times where even McGonagall found his dry humor funny. Neville just smiled at her warmly, the red remaining on the tips of his ears.

"Alright, I see your point." Neville pulled a pot closer to him, taking a handful of fertilizer in hand and mixing it among the soil there. "Not that I'd ever complain, I could use a know-it-all to call me out on my mistakes."

"Oh, ha, ha, very funny." Hermione mockingly laughed. "How are you managing the first couple weeks now?"

"Good, there is a couple students in fifth year that I can already tell will be a problem. Both Ravenclaw's that remind me of Slytherins in our year." Neville and Hermione both shuttered.

"I think I know exactly who you're talking about. Lovett, and McLoughin." Hermione recalled. Neville just stared at her with disbelief.

"I'll never understand how you do that; I still don't remember most of my student's names." Neville shrugged hopelessly. "I mean I'm better than I was last year but things change so often I can't keep it straight." He referred to the abundance of transfers that many students went through, many of their parents too afraid to let them finish their schooling at Hogwarts. The scars left behind by the war too daunting for them to cope with. Hermione and Neville both understood completely, knowing that McGonagall never fought the parents who wished to relocate. Four years wasn't long enough to move past the bloodshed that happened on these grounds.

There was a knock at the far door. Draco Malfoy stood there, looking at the two of them with a neutral expression. That was something Hermione learned quickly, Draco kept very much to himself, not revealing much of any emotion hidden behind those gray eyes. "Draco." Neville smiled at him warmly, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm doing a lesson on truth serum, and my stores are low. Could you spare some Sopophorous Beans?" he entered the room. "I don't mean to intrude on your date." He said very Snape-like. Before Hermione could respond, Neville piped up.

"Don't worry about it, I'll go grab you some. Be right back." He wiped his hands off and turned to head into another room of the greenhouse. "Play nice you two." He said knowingly at the two of them. Hermione blushed embarrassed, while Draco cleared his throat.

"Granger." He trailed off.

"Malfoy, how was your summer?" she said as politely as she could. Trying to remain civil for Neville's sake was the only thing that kept her from wanting to repeat their third year. Hermione knew he deserved a second chance, but it didn't stop her skin from crawling when he said her name.

"As pleasant as it could be all things considered." He said hotly.

Hermione cringed, remembering the large headline 'War Villain Lucius Malfoy, DEAD'. "Draco, I'm so sorry about your father." She swallowed, knowing that no matter the animosity between Malfoy and his father, he was still he father.

"It's fine Granger, the war took too much of a toll on him. He went surrounded by those who loved him. Minister Shacklebolt has a heart." Draco sensed Hermione's confusion. "Dad was remorseful after the war, somewhat. Enough that the Minister decided it wouldn't be humane for him to die alone, rotting in Azkaban."

"I'm glad to hear that," she cringed again, trying to back pedal. "Not glad that he's passed, glad you all were there for him. No one deserves to die alone."

"Thank you, Granger." He said, his voice breaking slightly. They both sighed, relieved as Neville came back around the corner with a rather large jar of beans. "That's perfect Longbottom, thank you."

"Anytime, my door is always open Draco." Neville said purposefully, Hermione could see the intentions behind Neville calling Malfoy by his first name. The corner of Malfoy's mouth turned up slightly before he nodded at the two of them, quickly leaving the room. Once he had left Neville turned to Hermione, clumsily scooping her into his arms. His hands trailing up her denim clad thighs, stopping to rest on her hips.

"He seems normal." Hermione stated and Neville shifted to stand between her parted legs.

"He's trying, we can all tell. He's bloody awkward about it, but I'll give the man the benefit of the doubt." Neville sighed, and Hermione looked up at him. She slithered her hands upwards, clasping them behind his neck. She was so close to him now, butterflies fluttering about in her stomach.

"You make me feel like a teenager Neville, you know, that right?" she beamed up at him as he pulled her closer to him by her hips.

"Yes, I do. You make me feel the same way." He was suddenly breathless, fingertips tingling against her hips. She pulled him closer crashing her lips against his, soft and so welcoming. He eagerly met the pace she set, tongue trailing on her bottom lip.

Stolen kisses? She could get used to this.