A/N: I closed the cover of HBP after 4 hours and I thought 'I am never going to write again, it's too good' but a week and too many reads than is sane on I just couldn't resist. I'm sorry for anyone hoping for a From the Cradle to the Grave update, but I felt it was a bit stale and I was finding it really hard to keep it out of the way of HBP. So here is something fresh, it's reasonably self-explanatory (I hope!), hope you enjoy it…

HBP SPOILERS

- CHAPTER ONE -

Rubies and Sapphires

"Come in," a stern female voice came from behind the door. She opened it slowly, the circular office alive as ever with small silver instruments, whirring away quietly, and faces from the past dozed quietly in the corners of their portraits.

"I've come about the vacancy Professor." The woman turned her chair around, and on the walls eyes opened instantly.

"Miss Granger, I didn't expect you to see you here." Professor McGonagall said as she rose from her chair. She paced to the window and looked out, and then she turned in silence and gestured to a chair opposite her desk. Hermione Granger sat down and looked nervously at her old Headmistress.

"So," said Professor McGonagall, wiping her rectangular glasses with a cloth that had appeared in her fingers, "the vacancy. I do not doubt your ability, but it strikes me as curious that you should want to come back and teach."

"If everybody stayed away from here because of their memories you would have no staff, let alone pupils. I want to put that all behind me; I've always wanted to teach, to help young wizard and witches develop their talents." She glanced apprehensively around herself, feeling scrutinised by many pairs of eyes.

"And you're sure you're not too young? You've got a whole life ahead of you to do interesting and exciting things."

"Do you want me to get this job," Hermione said scathingly, then looked nervously at her old professor's scornful face, "sorry Professor, I didn't mean…" but her thin lips wrinkled at the edges of her mouth into a smile.

"I'm not your teacher anymore Miss Granger, you don't have to pay me so much respect. I do want you to take this job; I think you'd do it very well –"

"Not a patch on you though Professor," Hermione said politely,

"Thank you Miss Granger," she smiled at her, "But I'm getting old, I can't keep teaching Transfiguration and stay Headmistress, it seems that nobody wants the job anymore. I had a teacher for two years but he died three weeks ago, he was rather ancient. Before that I had to do both, I can't face that again." She sighed, "And you are the only applicant."

Hermione looked at her; she did indeed seem so much older than she had when they had last met six years ago. The wrinkles around her eyes had grown over her face, and her steel coloured hair was streaked with white.

"I cannot see any reason not to give you the job. How long are you prepared to stay?"

"As long as you need me."

"And Mr Weasley has no objection?" her eyes fixed on Hermione who shuffled slightly in her chair,

"He doesn't know I've come here, and he'll probably just think I'm trying to delay the wedding…" she cast her eyes downwards,

"And are you?"

"I don't know. I do really care about him, we've been through so much together though; I don't know whether it'll bring us closer together or tear us apart. And we don't always agree on things, but there are times when…" she stopped looking embarrassed, "Sorry Professor, I don't mean to open my heart up to you."

"Don't worry, I was your Head of House, I am supposed to provide some counselling. And it is Minerva now; I am no longer your teacher."

"In that case you should call me Hermione."

"Well then Hermione, the position is open if you wish to take it. Maybe you should discuss it with Mr Weasley."

"That won't be necessary," McGonagall stared at her, "Should I take the Hogwarts Express here in September?"

"Yes, but -"

"Will I get your old office and rooms?"

"Yes. Would you like to make any change to the book lists?" she brought out a list of the books needed by each year,

"If those are the same as they were for us, then I don't see a need to change them." Hermione pulled her skirt a little lower down her legs as it was beginning to creep up.

"Oh Hermione, now that you are teaching at a school of magic, do you think you could wear robes all the time, I know you are used to Muggle clothes, but I think it would be more appropriate." McGonagall was looking at her clothes with slight disdain,

"Of course." She looked a little sheepish.

"One last thing; would you consider becoming Head of Gryffindor House? None of the current members of staff were ever Gryffindors, if you feel you can cope with the responsibility, it is a very worthwhile job." She gestured to the red banner behind her, with a great golden lion emblazoned across it.

"If you think I could… I love to." She looked at her hesitantly,

McGonagall smiled and passed her a golden ring with a ruby set into it. "This is the key to your office and rooms; just press it into the lock, make sure it is on your hand." Hermione slid it onto the index finger of her right hand, the deep red jewel outshining the dull blue of the sapphire Ron had given her.

She conjured two glasses of white wine onto the desk and raised her glass, "To a new future,"

"And no bad memories," Hermione replied downing her glass in one gulp, "Thank you Profes – sorry Minerva. I shall see you in September, if not before then."

"Very well. Until September." McGonagall watched her as she went out of the door.

Hermione descended the spiral staircase; the groundskeeper must have gone back to his hut, Hagrid's Hut. It was so strange to be walking familiar corridors, that had stayed the same for centuries, but around her there was so much change. The students had all gone yesterday, but she could still smell the magnificent end of term feast wafting down the corridors. Everywhere smelt of cleaning potions, it seemed to her that Filch felt the need to purge the castle of all traces of students. She'd seen a few teachers gathering the last of their things; Professor Sprout carrying several large suitcases, and she'd walked past the open door of Flitwick's office to see him standing on his desk conducting objects with his wand to fly from shelves into an open suitcase on the floor.

As she walked into the Entrance Hall she saw a figure robed in black standing at the door, he turned, hearing her footsteps, and she saw a man whose curtains of greasy black hair framed his pale face. She felt anger boil up inside her. She bit her tongue to stop words escaping her and she marched through the door in the grounds, feeling the gaze of his cavernous black eyes on her back. Her eyes caught the shining white tomb by the lake; she lowered her gaze and walked quickly across the grounds to the gates into Hogsmeade, along the road she had trodden so many times before. As soon as she was over the boundary of the grounds she turned for a last glimpse of the castle and Disapparated back to London.

"Hermione? That you?" Ron's voice came from the kitchen as she opened the door.

"Yes,"

"Where were you?"

"Out," she closed the front door and walked into the sitting room.

"Oh… are you hungry? Cos there's some shepherd's pie left from last night, I was going to reheat it." He came out of the kitchen,

"Try not to set anything on fire this time." She sighed and he went back into the kitchen, she heard him mutter ignens and hoped it was only the pie he was heating up.

How was she going to tell him? He'd go distraught if she told him she was going to work at Hogwarts. But she couldn't just disappear. He appeared at the doorway, holding two plates precariously in his hands. She turned the sofa into a table and two chairs with a flick of her wand; their flat was tiny, so they had to make alterations to the décor every time they needed something.

She sent the plates out of his hands and onto the table, and then she sat down. He followed and spooned food into his mouth as if his life depended on it. "Haven't you eaten today?" she asked worriedly,

"No," he replied spitting large amounts of mashed potato back onto his plate, eyes streaming. "Bit hot," he gulped,

"Why didn't you eat anything?" she put her fork down and poured him water from the tip of her wand.

He smiled, raising his hand in thanks, took a large gulp of water and nearly choked. "Sorry, I was waiting for you."

"All day?"

"Of course," he said almost proudly,

"Oh honestly Ron, you don't have to starve yourself. You could have at least had a packet of crisps." She sighed,

"Sorry, guess I was a bit stupid. I was worried about you. Where were you anyway?" he looked at her,

"Just out," she looked at her plate.

"Anywhere in particular?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes Hermione, in case you've forgotten we're getting married sometime soon, and we shouldn't have any secrets from each other." He tried to sound fierce.

"Ron, can you seriously see us ever married?"

"We're engaged!" he said in protest,

"We have been for five years."

"We just need to sort out a date,"

"Alright, carry on dreaming -"

"I love you Hermione!"

"Yes, yes I know…" she sighed again, "look if you want me to be open with you; I went to Hogwarts."

He stared at her in shock, his mouth trembling, "What!"

"Hogwarts, Ron. I will be teaching Transfiguration there from September and will be Head of Gryffindor." She spat the words at him, as if someone had unscrewed a tight lid inside her mouth.

"Why?" he uttered the only word she could hear from his mumbles.

"Because I've always wanted to teach, I don't see why memories should stop me. Harry always said -"

She stopped herself, but it was too late, Ron turned away, bitterly-faced, trying hard to fight back the tears. She knew it was hard but six years was long enough, they should cherish their good memories of him, not shun him to the back of their minds only to fall prey to grief whenever his name was mentioned. Ron had always found it so much harder to get on with his life.

"Ron!" she screamed at him, he span around, his face white. "Do you think this is what Harry would have wanted? His two best friends unable to have their own lives back, always grieving and thinking back, never looking forwards, never making a future? If we don't, no-one will. I know it's hard, but it's been six years, long enough for everyone."

"You can't just forget him!" Ron shouted, tears rolling down his face,

"I'm not saying that at all, I'm saying exactly the opposite. We should remember him, at the front of our minds; remember that he wanted us to carry on without him. He said it was over to us now, he died so that everyone else could live; we're just wasting the life that he gave us. We cannot let him have died in vain."

A/N: I'd love some feedback on this please; it's kind of different from the stuff I've written before. So please tell me what you think, constructive criticism would be good.