“Class dismissed,” Harry said, trying to keep the obvious relief out of his voice, as the students got up and filed out of the classroom. When everybody was gone, he walked back behind his desk to gather the different scrolls of notes he had prepared for this class. Fortunately this had been the last class for today and tomorrow was Friday, so the weekend was drawing near. He had never believed, when he had agreed to this whole thing that teaching would be that strenuous and time consuming. Right now, after almost three weeks of doing this job, he finally started to respect and appreciate the hard work his professors always had put into their education. Especially when dealing with classes put together with students from Gryffindor and Slytherin, just like the sixth years class he had just taught.
It was a few minutes later that he finally left the classroom and was on his way back to their common room. He didn’t even want to think about the assignments he still needed to grade, but with this he would start after dinner. For now he just wanted to relax a bit and then have a nice and plentiful meal.
Neither Ron nor Hermione or Draco were in the common room, when he arrived there. Ron was probably still outside, making sure that none of the school brooms were broken, Hermione was most-likely still talking to some of her students before coming here and Draco, well, he only actually saw Draco during the meals or in the mornings. The rest of the time Harry assumed that his once rival was spending either in the potions lab or in his office.
Well, at least no one would bother him for at least a couple of more minutes. He went into his room and closed the door behind him, before he dropped the pieces of parchment on his desk, next to another pile. He really needed to get a lot of work done that night and probably also over the weekend. No matter how much fun teaching actually was, sharing your knowledge with younger generations, as Hermione had so accurately put it, clearly had its disadvantages, like spending
hours after classes to correct and grade homework.
However, Harry didn’t want to complain. Dumbledore had been so generous to offer them those jobs, even though he absolutely didn’t need to, and they could thank him by doing this job as well as possible. And, Harry thought, he was helping those students. Especially his fourth years Gryffindor and Ravenclaw class was making him proud. He had received many interesting essays about Voldemort and Hitler and they were already doing a lot better saying his name. He truly figured that, within the next two weeks, he might be able to show them the boggart.
“Harry, mate, you already there?” sounded Ron’s voice from the common room.
Instead of answering, Harry sighed “ his few minutes of peace were over “ and left his room, seeing Ron standing in the middle of the room. “Hi Ron,” he replied tiredly and slumped down in one of the armchairs. “How was your day?”
Shrugging, Ron replied, “The usual. Only that today, after dinner, I’m going to have to supervise the Quidditch training of the Gryffindors. Actually, I can’t wait to see how Charlie is as a seeker. Who knows,” he said winking with a large grin on his face, “maybe he can give you a run for your money. You want to come and watch?”
“Sorry, but Ican’t.” Harry rubbed his eyes. He really wanted to, but there were still the two piles of parchment waiting for him in his room. Somehow Ron had gotten the easy teaching spot. Flying lessons were only for first years and the essays they had to write “ if they even had to write any “ were quite easy to grade. But then again, instead of grading papers, Ron had to be present at the Quidditch training of the different houses now and then and Harry remembered only all to well how long they could take, when you had a Quidditch obsessed team captain. However, Harry would much rather watch over some kids playing Quidditch than read the essays until the letters became blurry. “I guess, you want to have dinner now?”
“Exactly,” the redhead nodded. “Oh, and I met Hermione on my way here. She told me she needed to go to the library and would grab a bite later and that we shouldn’t wait up for her.”
Harry shook his head. This was just like their friend to skip dinner “ he didn’t believe one second that Hermione would bother the House Elves late at night only because she was hungry. “Well, that’s Hermione for you.” Stretching his arms into the air and his neck first to one and then to the other side to get rid of some tense muscles, Harry got up from the armchair. “Let’s have dinner then.”
~*~
It was already early in the morning “ Harry’s watch showed 3:17 “ as he finally put the quill down and added the last essay to the already finished pile of graded papers. Finally, Harry thought with an exhausted grin on his face. He pushed the chair back and got up, only hesitating as he took a quick look out of the window. The whole sky was littered with glistening stars and the Forbidden Forest loomed darkly behind Hagrid’s hut. The half-giant seemed to have also turned in already, as therewas no light in the hut. Already, he chuckled. That’s good. In only a couple of hours his alarm clock would wake him mercilessly and he would need to get up to face another exhausting day at school. And there’s only one pile left, Harry grinned wryly, as he gazed at the other pile of parchments that was still waiting for him.
Sleepily, Harry rubbed his eyes, as he crossed the room and stepped into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Once he was dressed in only his shorts and a black T-shirt, he came back out and, with a wave of his hand, extinguished the candles. He knew the few steps from the bathroom to his bed by heart, so he only slumped down on the mattress and, after having pulled the blanket up, closed his eyes. But somehow, before he succumbed to sleep, a fleeting thought crossed his mind that he had forgotten something.
His night was restless, as he tossed and turned. His dreams were evaded by the last thought he had before falling asleep...
He was chasing a red question mark that was teasing him about something with Snape’s voice. Only, whenever a certain word fell, it was droned out by a loud noise that resembled a helicopter. When he had followed the question mark to the Quidditch pit, it was suddenly wearing green and silver robes and sneered at him, now sounding a lot like Malfoy. “Come and get it, Potter.”
Harry looked down at himself and noticed that he was wearing his old Gryffindor Quidditch gear and was holding his trusty Firebolt in his right hand. Without thinking, Harry mounted the broom and rose into the air, still following the question mark. But now that he was back in the air, he felt better, securer and he knew that it would now only be a matter of time until he remembered. He saw it then, the golden snitch, and dove after it until his fist closed around the fluttering ball. Slowly opening his fist again, he expected it to fly away again, but instead it jumped to the ground and transformed into…
“Hermione!” he gasped, as he sat up in his bed. It was only a few minutes before his alarm clock would have woken him up, but the sudden memory about what day it was today made him jump faster out of the bed than probably ever before. “Oh bloody hell!” Cringing, he looked at the calendar and indeed, he had been right. There was a bright red ring around the number nineteen, which itself was flashing at him in rainbow colours. Today was Hermione’s birthday and he had completely forgotten about it “ why hadn’t Ron reminded him? Out of all people, he should know when it was Hermione’s birthday. Present, present… Harry looked frantically around his room, searching for anything that might be a good present for Hermione, but there was nothing he could use.
He just wanted to storm into the common room to find Ron, when he remembered what he was wearing and, cursing again, he grabbed his clothes and disappeared in the bathroom. Why the bleeding hell are mornings at Hogwarts always this hectic?
His hair was still damp, as he stepped into the common room and found Ron already sitting there, reading the Daily Prophet and obviously waiting for him to go to breakfast. How Ron always managed to be ready before him was still a mystery, but he didn’t have time to solve it now. “Why didn’t you remind me?” he immediately asked, when he spotted his friend.
“Remind you? What are you talking about?” Ron looked a bit startled, but also a bit confused. “And why is everyone so grumpy this morning?”
Harry groaned, as he walked up to his friend. “Please, don’t tell me that you also forgot.” When the confusion on Ron’s face became even more evident, he continued, “’Mione’s birthday.”
“Oh…” the redhead said slowly, but when the words had sunken in, he repeated, louder this time, “Oh! Bloody hell!”
“My words exactly,” Harry agreed and sat down next to his friend.
“So, that’s the reason why she just stomped out a couple of minutes ago, when I only said good morning and then opened the Prophet.”
The black-haired young man wiped a hand over his face. “We’re hopeless.” Ron could only agree.
It was with great fear and guilt that the two young men stepped into the Great Hall and up to the staff table, where a couple of teachers were already having breakfast, Hermione included. However, the young woman didn’t once look up from her copy of the Prophet, as they sat down next to her. Neither Ron nor Harry knew what to say to her, so they rather remained silent, both thinking of a way to apologize and make up for their forgetfulness. Maybe a surprise party, Harry thought, because then they could tell her that they had just pretended to have forgotten her birthday. But knowing Hermione as well as they did, he didn’t believe one second that she was going to buy this story. Sighing, he put his fork down on his plate and turned to his friend. “Hermione, look…”
“Not now,” she hissed, still not looking up from the newspaper. But when it seemed to her that Harry wouldn’t give up, she sighed and just said, “Listen, I’m mad right now. I know a lot has happened in the past few weeks, but still… Just, leave me alone for a while, okay?”
Harry just wanted to open his mouth again to contradict, to say that he was truly sorry and that it would never happen again, when suddenly a swarm of owls descended into the Great Hall. At once it became rather loud, as wrappings and letters were opened by the students, just as every morning, but this morning something else happened as well, something that had never happened before since they had arrived in this time. One of the owls dropped down directly in front of Hermione, causing her to look up from the Prophet and her eyes widened in surprise, when she spotted what exactly was tied at the owl’s leg. Still slightly taken aback, Hermione untied the single pink rose from the owl’s leg and didn’t even notice it flying away, as she immediately turned to Harry and Ron, who were both looking at her curiously.
“Thank you, guys,” she said, sighing again. “I know you want to make it up to me, but it’s not just you, okay? It’s just…”
“But we didn’t send you this,” Ron blabbered out before he could stop himself. Harry winced, as he heard the words and immediately saw Hermione’s face close up again. Her mouth formed a small ‘oh’ before she forced her attention away from them to the rose on the desk in front of her, her face betraying the pain they had caused her, but also a certain curiosity, as she was looking at the rose.
“What’s this?” a well-known voice suddenly drawled, as Draco slumped down in the chair next to Ron. “Did one of you actually remember Granger’s birthday and give her this rose? Or is this just a lame way to apologize for forgetting.”
Ron just wanted to tell Draco off, as the blond haired man pulled a longish box, wrapped in green paper, out of his pocket and handed it over to Hermione without saying a word. The young witch muttered a quiet ‘Thank you’ and smiled at Draco, as she unwrapped the gift and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful light brown quill.
“Excellent quality,” Draco explained. “I got one of these for myself and I’m mostly satisfied with it. It’s not for grading papers, mind you, but maybe you could use it to write letters or something like this.”
The smile on Hermione’s face widened, as she examined the quill from all possible angles, but couldn’t detect a single flaw. The wood was smooth and she was quite sure that it would take a long time until it would splinter or soak up the ink. “Thank you, again, Draco. This is beautiful.” While saying this, Hermione shot her best friends an angry look. “I better head to class now. There’re still some things I need to prepare.” She put the quill back into the box and carefully folded the wrapping paper, before she got up from the chair, gently picked up the pink rose and walked past Harry and Ron, once again glaring at them, and Draco, whom she gave a bright smile.
Harry groaned almost inaudible, when Hermione had walked trough the doors out of the Great Hall, and almost let his head fall on the table “ only that this wasn’t a very mature thing to do and he had to keep in mind that he was a professor now and therefore a role model for the students. How could this day just start out so wrong? Admitted, he and Ron had messed up, but they were planning to make it up to her! It had been a hectic few weeks and surely she must understand that things like birthdays could slip their minds. Maybe she would have understood it, if Draco hadn’t turned up and not only remembered her birthday, but had also been as thoughtful as to buy her a great gift. He turned to look at the man, who had once been his arch-nemesis, and, noticing that Ron was scowling at the same man the whole time, while gruesomely chopping his sausages, sighed. Right now Harry just wished to be in his room with his essays to wait out the day until everything was back to normal.
As the day passed by, Harry began to hear the most curious things. He had heard some students “ rather excited third years Hufflepuff girls “ whisper about their last Transfiguration class. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but when the words Professor Granger and yellow roses reached his ears, he couldn’t help but slow his steps along the corridor, hoping to catch more of their conversation. Apparently another owl had flown through the open window of the classroom and delivered, not just one, but two yellow roses.
Now his own curiosity started to grow. Who was this stranger who was sending her those roses? He was sure that it was neither him nor Ron, obviously, and he believed he knew Draco well enough to know that it wasn’t him. But who else? A student most likely, or maybe a fellow professor? Ron had been pointing out a lot that Hermione seemed to have befriended this Christophe Hayden and was spending (way too) much time with him. Maybe it was him?
Harry shook his head. This was just guessing and speculation. Maybe the mysterious stranger would show himself soon.
.
It was at lunch that Ron told him about what he had heard some first years Gryffindors gossip in front of the Great Hall. “They said that during their class an owl delivered three red roses to Hermione. Can you believe this? Three red roses!“ And so Harry referred to what those girls had said about Hermione having received two yellow roses during her first class of that day. “Hermione’s still got one more class today and I honestly don’t want to know what her students will be talking about then.”
Harry could only agree with his friend. Somehow, he had a strange feeling. Not bad strange, just strange. Whoever was sending those roses to Hermione certainly knew how to do it. First the pink rose, for a happy birthday, then the yellow ones, for friendship and then the red ones, for love. The only other colour of what he knew the meaning was white, for pure love. He idly wondered, if the sender would really dare this next step or if he would just stop with the red roses.
Suddenly feeling rather anxious, Harry left his lunch almost untouched and pushed his chair back. He gave Ron an apologetic smile, before heading out of the Great Hall and outside. Fortunately there weren’t many students outside, so he only needed to walk a bit until he was alone. Harry pulled out the packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, opened it and, after having put one cigarette into his mouth, lit it with his wand. Relief immediately flooded through him, as some of the tension began to leave. Since Harry had started his style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>career as professor, he made it a point to not be near any students, when he went to satisfy his cravings, as not to give them any ideas. And until now, he had been successful. The others never liked it, rather Hermione and Ron usually complained when he wanted to smoke in their common room, so he tried to avoid this, too, but fortunately he knew some spells to clean the air inside a room, so it didn’t bother him to smoke in his bedroom.
Halfway through his third cigarette, Harry felt a light warming on his left arm. He had put a spell on his watch to alert him, when it was time for him to go to his classroom and this was the signal that he only had a couple of minutes to spare until the first students arrived. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and muttered a quiet, “Scourgify” so that the last one and the other ones disappeared, before he went back inside. One more class and then no more teaching until Monday.
This time, Ron was waiting for him in their common room after their last class. Harry would have just loved to let himself drop on the couch and praise the weekend, but there were still two matters on his mind. The remaining essays and Hermione. Of course, at the moment, Hermione was the more important matter “ he and Ron still needed to make it up to her that they had been this inconsiderate. But somehow, he doubted that they could do anything to surpass the roses she had been receiving all day long. They hadn’t heard anything yet about her last class, but this would change as soon as the woman in question stepped through the portrait hole.
They talked a bit, throwing ideas back and forth for a good present, though nothing good seemed to come out of it “ Harry just felt so unimaginative. About half an hour had already passed since Harry had stepped into the common room, so, when the portrait swung open again, both jumped startled, but it was only Draco.
“Don’t let me bother you,” he told them smirking, as he walked across the room and sat down in the armchair he had claimed at the very beginning of their stay at Hogwarts. Throwing his legs over one armrest, he peeled himself out of the black robe he was usually wearing for teaching, revealing the black T-shirt and blue jeans he was wearing underneath. Harry wondered again from time to time, when he saw Draco like this, how someone, who seemed to despise Muggles that much, kept to wearing their style of clothes.
Harry and Ron threw each other a quick glance, as Draco picked up a book that he had left there last night and opened it somewhere in the middle to continue his reading. It was impossible now to further discuss Hermione’s birthday. However, they wouldn’t have had any time anyway, because only a few seconds later the portrait swung open again and Hermione stepped inside, carrying next to her bag a bunch of roses “ one pink, two yellow, three red and four coral roses. This surprised Harry. He had almost been convinced that it would be white roses. But most of all he asked himself, what the colour coral meant, if it even had a meaning.
“Phew, this has been one hell of a day,” she muttered, as she put the roses on the table and set her bag on the floor. Hermione wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before also shedding her outer robe and sitting down in the last armchair. She made a flourish movement with her wand and a vase appeared on the table, already filled with water. She put the roses inside of the vase and, after having given them one last look, turned to Harry and Ron, who were watching her warily. “They really aren’t from you, are they?” When both of them shook their heads, Hermione sighed. “That’s weird. I really wished I knew who to thank for these. They’re truly beautiful. It’s been a long time since someone gave me roses.” She sniffed at them and then sighed again. “I also really would like to know, what the coral ones mean. I know the meaning of the other ones, but these are new to me…”
“Desire,” Draco answered, as he looked up from his book and rested his gaze on Hermione. “Coral roses mean desire.” When he noticed the bemused looks on Ron’s and Harry’s face, he put the book back on the table and got up from the armchair. “Don’t stare at me like this. We had a lot of flowers in the gardens back at Malfoy Manor, so it’s almost inevitable that you learn a lot about them and their meanings. Now, if you’d excuse me, I still have to finish some work.”
“We’re sorry, ‘Mione,” Ron said this time, when Draco had disappeared in his room.
“I know,” she answered. “And I’m sorry that I acted this way this morning. It isn’t your fault. We’ve all been preoccupied and as I already said, it wasn’t just you. I- I just realised this morning that I can’t talk to my parents and that they’re probably worried about me. If their even still alive… It’s been more than one and a half months since the battle at the Burrow and I’m scared to find out what has happened to everyone after we were brought here.”
Harry noticed the tears in her eyes and immediately went up to her, engulfing her in a gentle hug. He could vaguely imagine how she felt like “ the Weasleys, Remus and of course Hermione and Ron were his family in the other timeline and he would most likely feel the same, were he stuck in this time alone; but at the same time he also felt bad, because in this time, he had his parents and didn’t need to worry about them in their time. “Don’t cry, ‘Mione. Dumbledore will find a way to bring us back, to the exact moment we left, so there’s no need to worry.”
“Oh Harry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. I really shouldn’t have been this angry with you about a small thing like my birthday.”
“Who said that your birthday is a small thing?” Ron asked. He also got up from his armchair and completed the group hug. “We will make it up for you, I promise. We will ask the House Elves to prepare a huge cake with chocolate cream for you, with twenty-two candles and lots of calories…”
A small chuckle was to be heard from where Hermione had buried her face in her friends’ robes and both young men grinned, when she muttered, “Don’t you dare do this, Ron Weasley. The House Elves have more than enough work to do without you asking them to bake a cake.”