Chapter 2  “Letters and Sweaters”

Hermione shook off her usual grim thoughts as she readied to go to the Muggle library. Nowadays, crowds made her nervous, so what little time she was outdoors was passed in quiet, secluded spots.  She was pulling on some jeans when she noticed a Hogwarts envelope resting on her windowsill.

She approached it carefully, the fruits of her self-instructed training taking effect. She looked for foreign markings and strange creases as she opened her window and Leviosaed it to the desk. She opened it with a Revelio spell and braced for any sudden changes.

The letter lay open and harmless on the desk.

She rolled her eyes and smiled self-consciously. “Okay,” she thought, “maybe I am a touch paranoid, but honestly…” she trailed off as she began to read the flashing gold inlay under the Hogwarts seal.

Dear Miss Granger:

Due to your outstanding achievements in the field of The Defense Against the Dark Arts, I’m pleased to offer you the position of assistant to our new DADA professor, Warren Gravel.

Professor Gravel, as you may know, was made famous for his practical use of the Consordium Consordius.  We would like to extend you an invitation to aid Professor Gravel with the accelerated coursework and NEWT level spells expected in this year’s curriculum. 

With your level of mastery and firsthand experience, we’re sure you will prove most satisfactory, and we anxiously await your reply.

Should you choose to accept, your training and assistantship will begin June 20.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

“Ha,” Hermione chuckled bitterly. “Firsthand experience? Firsthand experience meaning my getting petrified by a basilisk or knocked unconscious by a Deatheater?”

She set the letter carefully on the table and skimmed the pile of books beside her. She carefully removed Hrothgar’s Guide to Hexes and leafed through the chapter on “Spellbound Someones.”

“The Honorable Warren Gravel, Adreal Auror-First Class came to  fame when he bravely defended Azkaban from a frontal attack by You-Know-Who, defeating twelve Deatheaters during the attempted liberation of the infamous seer Edmund Goneril.”

Twelve death eaters. Twelve. She pictured a raw Auror, barely of Apparating age, surrounded by a closing circle of dark-robbed figures, only his training and his hope standing in their way…

She gave a secret smile and immediately began composing her acceptance letter. Great Germanus, she may’ve become unbalanced since sixth year, but she wasn’t mad enough to turn down an assistantship, especially from the likes of Warren Gravel, self-loathing be damned.

Gods, she took it as a sign of Dumbledore’s faith, despite her failing at the DM. She ignored the Harry-sounding voice murmuring about how she obviously needed all the help she could get and who better than Gravel to train the incompetent-in-the-field confidant of Harry Potter…

Chewing the end of her pen, she considered her response. Something pleasantly flattered-sounding. Not gushy… just grateful. And don’t mention your obsessive search for offensive tactics, Harry’s voice added. Compulsive preparation for one-on-one combat may not be the prerequisite they had in mind.

“Quiet, you” Hermione replied evenly as she penned her response. A summer at Hogwarts may do her good. Orfeo knows, things couldn’t get any worse.

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A Week Later At Hogwarts…

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Hey Harry

Really, really glad to hear from you. I’ve been dreadfully worried. Hope you’re having a not-too terrible time at the Durselys. Just think, only a few more weeks and you’ll be back at the Burrow! I’m sure they miss you. Ron and Ginny will probably have you doing Quidditch drills morning, noon, and night. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

Things are great here at Hogwarts. I just arrived this morning. I met Gravel and, wow, you’re going to love him! I’ll tell you all about him tomorrow. Right now we’re going to look at our offices.  Write me when you can.

Always,

Hermione

Hermione scanned the letter and rolled her eyes. “Falling back to formula are we?” She thought with a sigh.

Hermione tucked the letter into an envelope and handed it to Hedwig, who was perched on the windowsill. The white owl flapped a bit and turned her beak up at having to deliver the half-hearted correspondence.

“Come on girl…” Hermione pleaded. “It’s not Harry’s fault, it’s mine.”

Hedwig’s head tilted in response.

”I’m just writing what he wants to hear...”

Hedwig bristled a bit and turned away.

“No, I’m not lying to him….” She trailed off as Hedwig blinked blankly at her.

Hermione gave a put-up sigh, “Well what did you expect? I can’t tell him about my injury. I can’t tell him about my, um, feeling, um, things. So what can I write about besides required reading and the weather?”

Hedwig looked back, no doubt pitying the high-maintenance human in front of her. With a sigh, she let Hermione tie the letter to her leg and pet her a bit before she began the long flight back to the Dursley’s. 

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In truth, Hermione had been having quite a time since arriving at Hogwarts…

“Well, come along Miss Granger.” McGonagall turned on her heel and strode down the corridor, leaving Hermione to trail after her with her bags.

“We’ll see to your room later. Right now,” McGonagall turned towards Hermione, who skidded to a stop, barely avoiding a collision with her Head of House. “Right now,” McGonagall continued unfazed, “you’ll be meeting the other student assistant.”

”Another assistant?” Hermione asked, not a little disappointed at the news.

McGonagall smiled, holding back an indulgent laugh as Hermione attempted to hide her dampened ambition.

“Yes, Miss Granger. Although I’m sure you alone would’ve proven more than satisfactory, we felt that a student from another house would provide the proper, diversity, that Professor Gravel will encounter in upcoming year.”

“Oh…right,” Hermione said blankly and nodded. Who was she to argue with McGonagall? Besides, there might be something in that. Diversity that is…

McGonagall opened a heavy door and motioned her inside.

Hermione found herself in a bright square room with large windows overlooking the green hilltops. As Hermione’s eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed an outlined figure leaning against the glass, his familiar, merciless eyes studying her intently.

“Granger…Fancy meeting you here,” Malfoy said smugly.

“Fancy?” She echoed. Not really the word she’d use. How about ‘un-bloody-believable.’ So this is what happens to the children of Deatheaters: honored assistantships and summers at Hogwarts. The poor guy…

Of course Hermione had heard, and pointedly ignored, rumors of Malfoy’s defection to the Order. And obviously that’s worked out well. Go ahead smarty pants, try and ignore it now.

She turned back to McGonagall, awaiting an explanation, or an apology, or both. Normally she wouldn’t think to question the Head Mistress…

Normally? Alright, fine, ‘never,’ she thought. But this…this being paired with that son of a Deatheater Malfoy was just too…Appropriate? She sighed. After all, Lucius Malfoy is in Voldemort’s inner circle, and now that you’ve been “bonded” to that Deatheater Dolohov…you’re practically family.”

The realization hit her hard: Warren Gravel, scourge of Deatheaters everywhere, had been given charge of her and Malfoy … two powerful young wizards with ties to Voldemort. That’s why she was here. Not for some supposed assistantship, but for some babysitting detail…Babysitting nothing. Most nannies don’t Crucio their charges at the end of the term.

“Well,” she replied silently, “at least the good ones don’t…”

She found herself wishing, not for the first time that summer, that Harry was with her. At least he’d reassure her. Look at her with something other than pity like McGonagall, or contempt like Malfoy. Besides, it’d make for a nice change from the hell the Order was apparently intent on putting her through. Yes, her injury had left her a danger to herself and others, but couldn’t they at least let her have her summer in peace?

”Gods of course not...” she sighed wistfully. And to think she could’ve been in Greece…

“Not what Granger?” Malfoy asked with a smirk, enjoying the play of emotions across her face.

Oops, she’d said something aloud again. She turned to him, noting the change in his appearance. Something was different. Sure, he was pale and thin, even for Malfoy, but something else too. He looked stronger, more steeled, and less likely to run to those blithering idiots he called friends. Not that he could anymore anyway.

She was secretly pleased at the change. Siding with the Order must’ve earned him a backbone. He’d bloody need one if they were going to help Professor Gravel.

”Um….working together,” she stammered a reply. “We’re not working together.” She paused, looking back towards McGonagall. “Are we?”

McGonagall nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes, Miss Granger. You and Mr. Malfoy have been chosen to assist Professor Gravel for the rest of the summer and the upcoming year.”

Malfoy and Hermione looked at each other wearily. Gods, what had she done to deserve this?

Gotten hit with a water-down Crucio curse and let Sirious die an agonizing death?

“Besides that,” she grumbled.

“What was that Miss Granger?” McGonagall asked.

“I said ‘when do we start?’” Oh, nice save.

“You start today Miss Granger…. Professor Gravel,” she motioned behind them, “I’d like to introduce you to your new assistants.”

Hermione turned and found herself face-to-face with Adreal Auror of the First Class, Warren Gravel. 

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Warren Gravel awkwardly stuck out his hand, which Hermione immediately shook. She gripped the careworn palms and took in his appearance: mid forties, youngish-looking, light brown hair, dark eyes…

“Miss Granger,” he said with a soft smile. She nodded back with a bit of shyness. Suddenly standing next to a man who’d defeated twelve Deatheaters offered a pretty exciting set of possibilities.

“Least he’ll keep me in line,” she thought with a sigh. A strange feeling came over her as he released her hand. A sort of…relief. At least with Gravel around, she’d pose no threat to a certain Boy Whose Friends Repeatedly Endangered Him.

“Mr. Malfoy” Gravel nodded to his other assistant with the same guileless friendliness. To her surprise, Malfoy unhesitatingly took the offered hand. For someone whose father decorated his den with Auror scalps, Malfoy didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable. In fact, he looked a bit deferential. Apparently he’d learned some manners with his newfound humility, and she couldn’t help but think how it suited him.

She shook off the momentary admiration for Malfoy’s sure-to-be temporary courtesy. This was Malfoy after all.  Malfoy, who wasn’t trustworthy or helpful. In. Any. Way.

Right. So then, why is he here, helping the cofounder of Dumbledore’s Army get the new DADA instructor up to speed?  

“Ummm. Good question,” she replied silently.

“Miss Granger?” Gravel was looking at her, apparently amused.

“Sorry Professor…” she started.

”Call me Graves.”

”What?” She shook her head, puzzled.

He and Mcgonigal laughed a bit, and even Malfoy managed a chuckle.

”As I was just telling Mr. Malfoy here, I’ll have none of this Professor this, and ‘sir’ that. Please, just call me ‘Graves.’ That way I’ll feel less like the phony I already am.”

Hermione snuck a glance at Malfoy who looked back at her with raised eyebrows.

“I’m not really a professor.” Graves leaned forward and lowered his voice. “In fact, I barely passed my NEWTs.”

“Graves,” McGonagall interrupted, “now really, this isn’t necessary, nobody…”

”I know, I know Mini,” he answered affectionately.

Malfoy nudged Hermione. “Mini?” he mouthed as she turned to him.

She felt a reluctant sense of comradery as she held back the laughter bubbling up at the nickname.

“I’ve no doubt that Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy will see to their duties,” Graves continued. “ Regardless of my credentials, or any lack there of,” he added with wink. He then took Mini…er, Professor McGonagall, by the arm and led her down the hallway, chatting merrily about the weather and architecture and so forth.  Malfoy and Hermione trailed silently behind, lost in the long shadows of the gathering evening.

Hermione studied the two figures and smiled. Funny how Prof…er, um,  ‘Graves’ reminded her a bit of Lupin. She stopped dead in her tracks and shuttered at that, wondering what dark secret this DA instructor was hiding. With Hogwart’s track record, he was probably some debauched seer planning to brainwash his students and start some mandrake-worshiping cult.

She shook off the ominous thoughts and trotted to catch up with her summer family.  “Still,” she muttered as she paused at the training room door, “could be worse.”

“Wager on it?” Malfoy offered grimly, appearing out of nowhere. He held the door open and motioned her inside.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went through the door, bracing herself for the long summer ahead.