Disclaimer: I do not own any rights anything regarding the Harry Potter universe, or the Beauty and the Beast song. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling and Disney. Only the plot is mine.

A/N: This is the first chapter of my very first fanfiction. I'd absolutely love to hear some reviews about what you think! Please be honest, I know this isn't perfect but I want to improve. I'm planning on continuing the story to 3 or more chapters, depending on where the plot takes me.

...oooOXOooo...

Something There [Beauty and the Beast]

[BELLE:]

There's something sweet, and almost kind

But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined

And now he's dear, and so unsure

I wonder why I didn't see it there before

[BEAST:]

She glanced this way, I thought I saw

And when we touched, she didn't shudder at my paw

No, it can't be, I'll just ignore

But then, she's never looked at me that way before

[BELLE:]

New, and a bit alarming

Who'd have ever thought that this could be?

True, that he's no Prince Charming

But there's something in him that I simply didn't see

...oooOXOooo...

Hermione Granger tried not to break into a run as she sped through the door of the Great Hall, mentally berated herself for letting time slip away. She was not going to be late to her very first sorting ceremony as a teacher – what impression would that give to the new first years? Just in time she took her seat on the staff table between Professor Sprout and Professor Hooch, catching her breath and smiling guiltily at them. Sprout grinned and patted her arm before turning her attention to the centre of the table.

Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat and motioned for quiet. The students gradually finished their conversations and turned to look at her in excited anticipation.

"Welcome," McGonagall began, "to another year at Hogwarts. Before the Sorting Ceremony commences I would like to remind you of a few rules and introduce our new professors."

The headmistress read out her start-of-term notices, "I should hope you don't need me to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits to all students. And the restrictions on flying are still in place from last year – no unauthorised flights until the Ministry of Magic decrees the threat level to be safe."

"Secondly, as you are no doubt aware, Professors Dubois and Cole had to return to their own academies after kindly filling in for us last year in our time of need." McGonagall carefully steered around mentioning the Battle of Hogwarts directly, too many staff and students had lost loved ones in the war, and were still coming to terms with their grief despite the two years that had passed. Beauxbatons Academy in France and the Salem Institute in the USA had each sent a member of staff to aid Hogwarts in the immediate aftermath. They had stayed for a year, filling in the vacant positions and helping wherever possible. But now it was time for the school to stand on its own again.

The headmistress continued, "Professor Lupin has returned to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, and has kindly agreed to act as head of Gryffindor," the Gryffindor students cheered as the professor stood and smiled at his students.

"And, after graduating with flying colours last summer, Professor Granger will be taking on my former position teaching Transfiguration," more applause broke out as the young war heroine smiled and waved at the eager witches and wizards seated below. She glanced to along the table and her eyes met Lupin's – he nodded and grinned at her, his face full of pride.

The Sorting Ceremony occurred without hitch, as the first years separated to each of the four tables filling the Great Hall. Then followed the feast, the food magically appearing and weighing down the tables as the muggle-borns widened their eyes in amazement. Hermione settled back in her chair contentedly, reminiscing about her own sorting ceremony, and let the excited atmosphere of the Great Hall wash over her.

Every now and then she stole a glance to the man seated several seats along to her left. His threadbare robes were the same as they had been when he taught her seven years ago, but now there was something different about him, something there she hadn't noticed before. Being amongst the students, and in the castle where he'd formed his happiest memories had a pleasant effect on the werewolf. Hermione had had a crush on her professor back in third year, but so had many of her classmates. But she thought her experiences in the war and brief relationship with Ron had moved her beyond those feelings. Now though, looking at his easy smile and hearing him laugh at something Slughorn had said, she recognised how easy it would be to succumb to those feelings again.

...oooOXOooo...

Later that evening.

The staff quarters that Hermione moved into had undergone quite the transformation since they were occupied by the previous Transfiguration professor. McGonagall had let her Scottish roots influence a lot of the design, with splashes of tartan and rustic wall hangings dominating the space. These had moved with the headmistress to her new rooms, and Hermione was left with a blank canvas. She had stuck several photographs of her friends and family on one of the walls; Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville smiled down at her from the biggest image, and her parents waved at her from another. She still felt pangs of guilt and sadness when she thought about her parents but at least they were safe in Australia and had been unaffected by the Wizarding War.

Despite her efforts at decorating, the rooms still seemed cold and uninviting. Perhaps creativity and art wasn't her forte, Hermione conceded as she focussed her attention back onto the scrolls and books laid out in front of her. Lesson planning was proving to be a bigger challenge than she had anticipated when she agreed to take the position. It was one thing to know and be proficient at practicing the magic needed, but understanding the theory behind it, and communicating that to a bunch of distracted third years, that was a different level entirely.

Sighing with frustration she considered her options. Of course, she could wait until the morning but she was too much of a perfectionist to be able to sleep with so much unfinished and so many questions. She would have liked to go to Professor McGonagall for advice but Hermione was sure the witch was overworking herself – it had taken a lot of work to persuade many parents to allow their children back to Hogwarts after the war and McGonagall had a hard task ensuring nothing went wrong to jeopardise their reluctant trust.

There were other professors to whom she could go, but Hermione was still testing the waters of her new teaching position. After all, a couple ago she had still been their student, finishing her NEWTs and she wanted to prove to them and herself that she was capable of her new role.

That left Lupin. He hadn't been her professor for many years, and they had become reasonably good friends as members of the Order. Hermione admitted that if anyone would be able to help her plan a good lesson, it would be him. She knew he was very intelligent and he had been one of her favourite teachers, despite the brief amount of time he was at Hogwarts. Though, perhaps that was because of the school-girl crush she'd had on him for a couple of months.

She shook her head and sighed. With a wave of her wand she gathered her notes together and set off towards Lupin's lodgings. Despite it being only half past nine, the corridors were quiet as the students were in their common rooms, catching up with old friends, making new ones, and settling in. Thus, Hermione was left with only her thoughts to distract her. memories of the war were never far away when she let her mind wander and thought wistfully of a time when the start of a new school term was the highlight of her year, and when all those she loved were still alive.

Lost in her memories, her feet had carried her to the entrance of Lupin's rooms before she knew it. She collected her unruly thoughts, smoothed down her hair, and knocked twice on the door. The door opened slowly to reveal Lupin wearing an old pair of flannel pyjama bottoms and a faded green t-shirt, glaring at her with sleep in his eyes. Hermione opened her mouth, at a loss of what to say.

"Oh- er, I'm sorry, Professor- I didn't think-, I-" she stuttered, edging back the way she had come.

The werewolf shook his head and his face relaxed into a sheepish smile. "No, no! I should be the one apologising. I've been plagued by second year pranksters for the past hour and was about to give them a piece of my mind!"

He laughed and continued, "It's not long until the full moon, you see, and this old werewolf needs all the sleep he can get."

Hermione frowned when he called himself 'old,' but didn't correct him. Her mind was running at lightning speed; how could she have been so stupid? Of course, the full moon was only a couple of nights away, how selfish of her to be so engrossed in her own problems that she hadn't even considered his much bigger ones.

"Oh no! I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have disturbed you so late. I'm so sorry."

"Not at all," Lupin countered, "I'm always happy to help! And it's not your fault I was in such a foul mood."

She smiled at him and started towards the corridor, "This isn't urgent, Professor. I'll leave you in peace now, and perhaps I could get your advice in the morning?"

"If you're sure it can wait? I'm generally in a better mood after I've slept for a few hours. I'll see you then!"

Hermione nodded and bid her former professor good night. As she headed back towards her own rooms she heard him call out behind her.

"By the way, you don't have to call me Professor, Hermione! Remus will do fine."

She waved in acknowledgment tried not break into as a run as she turned the corner. Her heart beat sounded like a heard of wild horses, but she couldn't tell if that was due the shock of the encounter, or something much more unfamiliar. She had to fight to keep her mind from picturing his dishevelled light brown hair, or his surprisingly toned arms, or the way he'd smiled at her…

...oooOXOooo...

The next morning.

Hermione had always been an early riser, and this morning was no different. She awoke at 6:30am, keen to meet the day head on and take advantage of the peacefulness that enveloped the sleepy school. After pulling on her robes and gathering her hair into an unruly ponytail she picked up her notes from last night, and set off towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

There was a smattering of students sat quietly at the benches, pouring over copies of the Daily Prophet and other wizarding magazines while making the most of the endless supply of breakfast.

Hermione noted the only two professors sitting at the upper table were McGonagall and Lupin, no, Remus. She made her way to her seat and greeted McGonagall warmly. The witch was engrossed in a complicated document stamped with the seal of the Ministry and Hermione left her to it. Helping herself to coffee and a bowl of blueberry porridge, she tried not to think about last night. Every so often she stole a glance down the table to Remus and pictured him in his baggy t-shirt and ruffled hair, wondering what it would be like to wake up next to him looking like that.

As her porridge and coffee took effect, her brain kicked into action and she reprimanded for giving into such immature fantasies. He's a work colleague, he used to be your professor, and twice your age, she told herself firmly, what do you think you could offer him? She decided the best course of action would be to meet these ridiculous dreams head on and prove to herself that she was above them. As she walked down the table to where Remus was sitting, Hermione let out a long breath and focused on the task at hand.

"Remus, hi. Sorry about last night again."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Remus smiled, "how can I help you?"

Hermione explained her difficulty with the lesson planning and showed him her notes. While he read through them, she kept her eyes firmly locked on the pieces of parchment, refusing to let her flights of fancy get control of her again. When Remus had finished, he glanced up at her and nodded slowly.

"This is good stuff, Hermione. In truth, I wish I had been this prepared when I began teaching," he laughed softly and Hermione frowned at the butterflies that threatened to take off in her stomach at the sound of his gentle chuckling.

Taking her frown for disagreement, Remus continued to talk, "You might have thought my lessons were well-planned, but, quite frankly, they were more improvisation than organisation! It's important to teach the facts, but you'll often find students learn the most when they're enjoying themselves"

It was Hermione's turn to smile as she thought about the year she'd had being taught by Remus. Now she considered it, she had to admit that part of the appeal of the lessons was the sense of excitement, that and a certain professor…

"You're right, of course" Hermione nodding, "In that case, do you have any suggestions for making the students like me, and making the lessons fun?"

After giving her a list of suggestions for the upcoming week, Remus put his hand on her arm and looked at her.

"You don't have to worry, Hermione. I can't think of a single thing you're not capable of, and as long as you relax you, the students will be fine!"

"Thank you, Remus. That means a lot, especially coming from you," Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and headed back to her seat.

...oooOXOooo...

Later that day as she took a break from her work to stroll around the lake to have a cup of tea with Hagrid, she tried to steer her mind away from the earlier interaction. It doesn't mean anything, she told herself firmly, thinking back to the warmth and affection she'd felt in Remus' hand as he'd rested it on her arm. A smaller part of her brain reminded her that since Tonks' death and the end of the war, her former professor had had little contact with anyone. He'd shied away from hugging Harry, opting for a firm handshake or nod instead, and had practically ran for the hills when Fleur had tried to kiss him on the cheek at Neville and Luna's wedding. But here he was patting her on the arm and acting as if it was perfectly natural.

It doesn't mean anything, Hermione told herself again, willing herself to believe it. Surely it was just a sign that he was healing and mending with time, as they all were. It couldn't be anything more than that.

"'ERMIONE!" a voice bellowed from the pumpkin patch on the other side of the groundskeepers' cottage.

"Hagrid!" Hermione grinned back and ran forward to meet his hug, which felt like being gripped by a huge metal vice, though, admittedly, it was one of the most comforting things about Hogwarts. It made her feel like she was eleven again and instantly made her forget her earlier musings.

The rest of the afternoon flew by as she caught up with Hagrid and Fang. They talked about the past and the future for a while. Then Hermione spent the next couple of hours trying to persuade the demi-giant to at least talk to McGonagall before inviting Charlie Weasley and some dragons to give a demonstration to his students.

"But just think about it, 'ermione! A whole display o' dragons, right 'ere. Norbert might come too, don't ya think?"

...oooOXOooo...

After running into Professor Flitwick on her way back from Hagrid's, Hermione spent another hour talking with him about the upcoming school year and the possibility of coordinating Transfiguration and Charms classes. Eager to get away, but not wanting to appear rude, she eventually excused herself from Flitwick's eager planning and headed back through the Hogwarts corridors. Since the war, she had valued time by herself more and more; her friends were in relationships and she preferred spending time alone than acting as the awkward third, fifth, or even seventh wheel. The working and socialising of the day had worn her out and she decided she needed some alone time that evening, ordering her dinner in her lodgings.

It was only as she took her dishes back down to the kitchen (to save a house elf from making the trip) that her tired mind returned once more to her morning. She was lost in a daydream that may or may not have featured Remus as she wandered back to her room, ready to do some reading and fall asleep. A voice calling her name brought her back to reality. She turned around to see the very man she'd been thinking about running towards her. She quickly crushed the butterflies that were rising in her stomach and looked at him questioningly.

"Good evening," Remus gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I just wondered how you were feeling about the lessons on Monday? Did the list I gave you help?"

The werewolf pushed a hand through his hair and tried to pat it down while simultaneously pushing up his sleeves to hide the fraying cuffs. Hermione bit down a smile at his dishevelled appearance, it was rather endearing.

"The list was a godsend, Remus, I can't thank you enough for your words of wisdom," Hermione grinned, "I definitely owe you one!"

"You're exaggerating, I'm sure," Remus smiled and shook his head, "but I'm glad you found it helpful."

After a couple of awkward seconds, where the only noise was Hermione's heart beating faster and faster, she broke the silence.

"I was just heading back to my rooms for a cup of tea if you wanted to join me?"

As soon as the words left her mouth she began to blush, and she knew they had been a mistake. Remus looked uncomfortable and a bit bewildered, he frowned at the floor before meeting her unsteady gaze.

"No, thank you," he said almost aggressively, "that's not to say I don't want to. But I, er, I'm busy this evening. Paperwork, lots to do before Monday. You know how it is…"

Hermione's heart slowed and fell. That was a definite rejection, he must be puzzled why she'd even asked him. I've messed everything up, she thought sadly. Perhaps there'd been a potential for a friendship with Remus, but now it was always going to be awkward between them.

"Of course, I understand," she said, trying to appear unaffected by his rebuff, "Good night."

"Good night, Hermione," Remus promptly turned on his heel and headed back the way he'd come.

Walking slowly back to her chambers, she tried not to think of what she may have ruined by being so forward. When she closed her door behind her, she began to run a bath and choose a book to read. A long soak in some lavender salts and an engrossing book were just what she needed to forget about the day.

Suddenly, there was a strange tapping on her door. She opened it to find a lone paper aeroplane sat on the floor. With growing curiosity, Hermione unfolded the thick parchment and found a short, handwritten note.

Hermione.

Please forgive me for my shortness earlier this evening. It shouldn't be an excuse, but the impending full moon is making me more cranky than usual, and your presence puts me on edge. Thank you for your kind offer. I'd love to have a cup of tea with you some time if my behaviour hasn't made you change your mind.

Remus.

Her mind began to whir again as she considered the piece of parchment in her hands. Did he just feel guilty about his behaviour? What did he mean by 'her presence'? How did she put him on edge – was she that insufferable? Was he just being polite or did he really want to accept her offer?

She had too many questions to know what to make of the few short sentences and spent the rest of the evening trying, unsuccessfully, to distract herself with a book.