Authors note: Firstly this is the work of an amateur author, apologies in advance for the cringe worthy turn of phrase that is used throughout.

Also I, unfortunately, have no claim whatsoever on those wonderful characters from the world of Harry Potter. They are all due to the brilliance of one woman, J.K. Rowling and as such I look to make absolutely nothing out of this bar a fool of myself :P

Before you begin this is categorised as a Hermione/Fleur fic – if you didn't spot that at the beginning!

Reviews are always welcome for good or ill – I could always use some advice! Ps if there is a Beta reader floating about let me know!

Thanks for taking the time to look at this; hopefully it won't be a waste!

The still quiet of the early evening was broken by the repetitive crunch of freshly fallen snow underneath Hermione Granger's boots. Walking briskly towards the gates of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she paused momentarily to admire the grounds of the castle in the waning golden sunlight. The blanket of snow had fallen, heavily and thickly, the previous evening; Temporarily halting her good intentions for a healthy outdoor experience at least once a day. It was beautiful and earlier she had almost let another day slip by without fresh air, not wanting to leave her imprint on the glistening cloak of white . . . but she was not a witch in the practice of breaking promises. No, that could never be said of her. Smiling inwardly at the thought Hermione turned once again towards the castle.

Nothing had really changed here since she herself had attended as a student. The whole building had been repaired to look the same as before, not one stone was left out of place. It was a comforting and slightly unnerving thought. The heat and light emanating from the castle entrance grew in strength as she drew closer, encouraging her to quicken her purposeful pace. Her toes were numb and, despite what Ginny might think, her hands did not appreciate the paltry protection offered by her cloak.

Filch, like a man possessed, was furiously brushing snow from the smooth, grey flagstones while Mrs Norris sat: Glowering in the doorway. Hermione avoided looking directly at the feline equivalent of Filch. That cat had always seemed rather human in its expression; Hermione didn't trust it in the least. She bounded past; ignoring Filch's glare at her wet boots that, in all fairness, she had tried to clear of most of the snow; focused on the light spilling from the halls within. Basking in the much-appreciated warmth she decided against heading directly for her rooms. Argus Filch's glares were a weekly if not daily occurrence: thankfully growing less frequent the longer she spent at Hogwarts. Perhaps it's just those with whom he's not familiar that are lucky enough to attract his attention. Snorting at the thought she stamped her boots, somewhat spitefully, in an effort to rid herself of the loose snow still clinging to her soles before taking off once more.

Torches lit the main corridor, throwing shadows on the stone guardians: who had been reinstated after the last battle, with a few extra flourishes thanks to Professor Flitwick. The head of Ravenclaw had been more than happy to add to the defences of the castle during its renovation, bustling from one arch to the next muttering incantation after incantation. McGonagall had insisted that the appearance of the defenders remain as close to the original as possible; so there they remained, stony and silent in their watch. Hermione liked them. Others found them eerie but after the final battle she had been delighted to see them repaired to their former glory in view of their sacrifice, feeling or unfeeling as they might be. At least some sacrifices could be fixed.

It was strange to return to a place that had, for so long, been not just a school but a home as well. In her first year of teaching the thought had frequently crossed her mind. A home where she and the boys had laughed, studied and dodged the occasional death threat that came with the territory of being Harry Potters closest friends. Generally people moved on from school and never looked back but this was where her magical life had begun; This is where she felt most useful. Where better to further her knowledge and help others attain their magical best? The corridors seemed less vast and looming than before, then again she was no longer a five-foot nothing 'know it all' running to her next class.

It was a familiar place, and as with all familiar places had lost any kind of intimidating effect upon her return as an adult. The same rooms, well-worn hallways, enthusiastic elves and ageless ghosts, yes Hogwarts was just as she recalled but strange at the same time. Sometimes, when walking in an empty corridor, she swore she could hear Seamus Finnegan shouting about quidditch in a loud Irish brogue or Luna Lovegoods' rambling about Nargles while searching the quiet library for an obscure text. And then the, in some ways less welcome, memories flooded back. The Weasley twins' great display of fireworks had been the most glaring of late. Thankfully it no longer reduced her to tears but still, when that particular image had burst through so clearly and vibrantly as she finished her pudding, her chest had tightened momentarily before relaxing.

Students hurried past, barely casting a glance in her direction, running to last lessons of the day or to the library to fit in much needed cramming. Christmas exams were just round the corner and had most of the student body in a dither. Was I really that bad? she wondered as yet another O.W.L. student came barrelling past her; A stack of books balanced precariously in one hand, the other holding a half-eaten piece of fruit. Not that she could ever criticise students for their preoccupation with exams. Who was the witch that held some of the highest marks ever consistently received by a student throughout their school career? Still I would like to think I have mellowed a little! Some of my students might disagree; Honestly you can't write a decent essay on werewolves on less than two rolls of parchment!

"I must get those fifth year papers ready," she muttered aloud, adding it to the mental list of 'must do's before the end of the week' that was growing at an alarming rate.

Gripping a glove determinedly she pulled her hand free before turning her attention to the other. No easy task when walking and dodging distracted students at the same time. The corridor was a health hazard this time of year with students paying less attention than ever before. Bundling the gloves into a spare pocket Hermione spotted one of her first years attempting to levitate a stone. Why in Merlin's name does Anthony insist on creating his own wand movements? Any other time and she would stop to help. Not now though, now all that was on her mind was food and something warm to drink. Being out on the grounds was something she tried her very best to fit in everyday. A cruel promised extracted by Ginny Potter the last time she had turned up to Godric's Hollow looking slightly wan and pale. Last time I show up there without a little make up on! A cure for all under nourishment claimed Ginny, fresh air and good food of course. She really had become more and more like Molly; Not that that little aside would be mentioned in front of Ginny . . . ever.

The hall itself was bursting with students diligently filling their stomachs with the delicious food presented before them. Nothing could compare with the studiousness that Ronald had afforded to that pastime; Hermione had yet to observe a worthy contender for his title of 'Largest amount of food consumed in one sitting'. Ignoring the mindless chatter surrounding her Hermione made her way to the head table, passing by her old house table on her way. The staff table was half full tonight; Some professors were obviously still at a lessons or finishing off setting their exam papers. It wasn't unusual for there to be space at the top table come end of term, unless there was an official announcement to be made which required all staff to be present. Students think they have it hard, like to see them try correcting the guts of 90 essays on Vampire weaknesses without falling into an induced coma! Spotting a spare seat next to her favoured teacher Hermione made her way directly to it, dropping gratefully once she had arrived.

"Good evening Professor Granger," greeted McGonagall; not fazed at all by her former pupil's lack of decorum.

"Evening Headmistress," replied Hermione cheerfully as she shook the remnants of snow from her shoulders. Forcing her stiff fingers to co-operate she was finally able to unclasp her cloak before draping it round her chair. Rolling her woollen jumper sleeves back, she rubbed her hands vigorously before turning towards the older witch who was watching proceedings with a decidedly amused look on her face.

"Out for your walk hmm? Can't say that I am surprised. Mrs. Potter is not a witch to be ignored."

"Most definitely; I may now stand before Ginevra Potter, hand on heart, with the clearest of consciences! Though I doubt half an hour constitutes what was prescribed," Hermione mused, ladling some stew for herself.

"Don't tell me the Professor for Defence against the Dark Arts fears for her life when confronted with one Mrs. Potter?" chuckled McGonagall.

Hermione paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth, to raise an eyebrow at her mentor. McGonagall smiled and pulled a favoured teapot towards her before continuing.

"Indeed. Well, any time spent outdoors is worth it especially when it is as clear as today has been; No rain for the first time in a week! Are you ready for the Christmas exams Hermione?" queried McGonagall who, after a year, was still inclined to mother the young professor.

"Yes, ready to go. The Fifth year paper will need a slight adjustment but apart from that . . . I just need to be ready to correct them. How have the discussions with the Centaurs been coming along?"

Hagrid had brought a proposal to the attention of the staff that certain beings living in the Forbidden Forest were interested in sharing their knowledge at a recent meeting. Now, that the Dark Lord was no more; they saw the host at Hogwarts as a safe option to improve relations between magical creatures and the larger magical community. No longer was it seen as a disgrace to share knowledge with those who might cause harm. In fact the example of Firenze's treatment during his tenure worked favourably in bringing about the idea at all! The Centaurs had been at the fore of the movement followed closely by the Mer People. Hagrid, being the most contactable of staff, had logically become a go between.

"Well Hagrid has outlined our ideas on how lessons might take shape. Not to say that the Centaurs agreed with everything necessarily," McGonagall paused to glare at an overexcited first year who had almost up scuttled a jug of pumpkin juice, "but with a few tweaks here and there who's to say? The next astronomy lesson might be shared between Professor Sinistra and a Centaur!"

With a slight incline of her head McGonagall beckoned Hermione closer.

"Speaking of relations between magical beings and Hogwarts I must talk to you about an invitation I have received. Are you free this Friday evening?" she questioned before pouring hot tea in cups for both herself and Hermione.

Hermione thought for a moment before replying. Ron had owled to say he happened to finally have a weekend free if she was around for a chat but that wasn't until he was finished and had a chance to get to Hogsmeade.

"I am meeting Ronald Weasley that evening but could we meet earlier? I had said to my N.E.W.T class that they could use that last lesson as a study session," she replied, handing the milk to her companion.

"Perfect," agreed McGonagall, taking a sip of tea she paused before nodding to herself.

"I will be in my office from four in the afternoon. Pop in when you get the chance."

"Is there anything I should bring with me?" inquired Hermione, holding the warm cup in both hands.

Not that it was unusual for her to go to the Heads office; in fact the opposite was true. Both women could often be found chatting about various issues or discussing different aspects to the curriculum in the hallways or in either of their offices. Hermione had made the transition from student to teacher smoothly and enjoyed the company of McGonagall, a professor who had always inspired her.

"Ah nothing at all dear! Just yourself and your wits," smiled McGonagall reassuringly as she teased out a tartan handkerchief from her sleeve before using it to clean her spectacles.

Noting that McGonagall seemed content to leave the arrangements at that Hermione chatted to her about the possibilities of Defence against the Dark Arts lessons being enhanced with the participation of the Centaurs.

The Great Hall emptied slowly. Sipping her now lukewarm, second cup of tea, Hermione observed the crowds of students talking back and forth while they moved on to their respective dormitories. Although much had stayed the same there were some definite differences. Houses mixed more readily than before, particularly Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff though Slytherin were slowly adapting to this new world. Draco Malfoy has some worthy successors, maybe not as many as what might have come before. It was hard to imagine what these first years made of Hogwarts since it had only been six years since the end of the Second Great War. There were children here who had been completely unaware of what had been a fact of life for Hermione. Still it did no good to dwell in the past and Hogwarts had emerged from that final battle stronger than ever.

Hermione put her cup to one side on a used dish; Rising slowly she swept the table clean of crumbs, her steady palm depositing them in the used crockery. Piling her dishes in an orderly manner was one curious habit Hermione retained from her muggle childhood, even when she had been teased by her housemates. Harry, who was also inclined to tidy up after himself at the table, displayed these 'Muggle quirks' as his wife liked to call them. Memories of childhood tasks drew out 'odd' behaviours at school which most of her students found very entertaining: especially those who came from wizarding families. Hanging her cloak up by hand, ordering her desk and even her one time use of a ballpoint pen instead of quill were the basis for some very creative impressions she had the pleasure of being the subject of. She had once argued that a refill pad and pen were still perfectly viable tools to have in her bag with a group of astounded and slightly bewildered second years. The memories of that particular class came back quite easily since it had ended up with most of group vying for a try at the muggle quill and ink!

Leaving the hall she strolled to her rooms, which were thankfully, not too far away. It had always been a great mystery to her where exactly the staff resided in the castle: though some had accommodation off of the castle grounds. Not once was it mentioned in any of the chapters of 'Hogwarts a History'! Hermione had hated finding faults with that illustrious tomb of work but she couldn't ignore them either. Needless to say that when she had been recruited to teach at Hogwarts her apartments were high on the list of inquiries she was excited to explore. The staff at Hogwarts enjoyed a comfortable living, by anyone's standards: being afforded a common room, small bathroom and bedroom each. Those Heads of Houses had extra pleasures but ones that Hermione could live without: a fireplace in her bedroom for instance or an adjoining office. She was perfectly content with her quarters that were quite similar to what she had experienced as a student, though more spacious considering the lack of other bodies. At least Parvati isn't there to leave clothes strewn about the floor.

Without hesitating she navigated the moving staircases to her final destination, fighting off the urge to sleep. An early riser she had never been very good at studying late into the night, preferring to wake early and do her work then. The halls were empty and knowing that she had no duties to perform that night made her arrival at her door all the sweeter. If I have to send one more prefect patrol for extra rounds because of 'distractions' I might just lose my mind. Nightly rounds were not one of the perks of being a professor; in fact if it could be avoided at all Hermione would have found a way. She was not one to shirk her duties but it was the worst way to spend any amount of time; A suitable detention activity, if only those students on detention were ones that could be let loose without supervision.

"Copernicus," mumbled Hermione, stifling a yawn as a landscape of the Scottish Highlands swung aside, gracefully allowing her entry.

The fire was already lit and bathed the sitting room in a warm glow. Crookshanks peered at her sleepily before giving up the fight and settling back into his basket that was enviously placed beside the fire. Throwing her cloak and gloves on a nearby hanger Hermione sat in an inviting wing-backed armchair to pull off her boots. Normally jeans and boots were more than comfortable when taking a quick walk but with the weather worsening she would have to start using a few well-placed charms to keep her warm. Not to say that this wouldn't have been possible before but as was with her 'odd habits' from her muggle childhood she still believed in silly things like immune systems and their strength. Her mother would only ever give a young Hermione a hat and gloves if the weather truly warranted it and god forbid that she should wear a coat inside because she 'wouldn't get the benefit from it' when she did eventually make it past the front door.

Sighing audibly at the sensation of tingling feet she lay back in the chair and stared at the fire. She couldn't wait for this week to be finished and finally have the exams begin. Once they were over it would be back home for a Christmas feast and extended family arriving unannounced not to mention a visit to the Burrow and probably to Godric's Hollow as well. Hermione groaned remembering the Christmas presents that lay bare at the bottom of her armoire. She really didn't mind shopping; all her major presents had been bought since November. It was the wrapping she hated, trying to get everything sorted into bags for the various people she would be seeing: Still that could wait.

Picking up her latest diversion, a biography of Rowena Ravenclaw: recently published with additional information provided by the Grey Lady, Hermione settled in for an uneventful evening.