Unhindered Fate ((Hermione))

[Professor Adam Greene]

If there was one thing Adam had learned in life, it was that trouble seemed to find everyone. It didn't matter if you were young or old, rich or poor. Trouble would find you. Then again, trouble seemed to linger around some longer than it did around others. Bad luck, one might call it, or perhaps a string of misfortune. No matter what you labeled it or how you viewed it, trouble would eventually find you, and the only thing you could possibly hope is that it wouldn't stick around for very long. Much to Adam's displeasure, trouble seemed to have enjoyed his company. Ever since he had met Dixie, Adam's life seemed to be a roller-coaster of events. Love. Loss. And plenty of trouble for him to share.

Waking up had been getting increasingly harder to do as the days passed. Where a warm body used to be snuggled up against him was now just a cold bundle of blankets which were the result of his restless night. Where he used to enjoy the sweet sound of his wife's voice, Adam heard only silence. When Dixie left him, his world was forever changed. At that point, he wasn't even sure if it was for the better or worse. As much as he loved her, the time which passed after she became pregnant seemed to be one fight after another. At one point Adam was ready to be a father and then a minute later he was once again scared to death and questioning his ability. Dixie wasn't able to put up with it anymore as the strain affected not only their marriage but their ability live together. She had had enough, and so she left. Adam wasn't sure when or if she'd return, and he didn't even know where she went. Should he chase after her? It was so odd how it seemed to be his worst nightmare happening all over again. When she had fled to Paris the first time, he ended up regretting the fact that he didn't chase after her. Now though, he wasn't so sure that it was still the right thing to do. She had made it pretty clear that she didn't want to be around him at the time. As she had explained it, she and their baby didn't need his negative pessimism. They didn't need his inability and his doubt. They didn't need him.

After showering, changing, skipping breakfast, and rushing out the door, Adam flew quickly to the castle to begin another day of teaching. Though his heart and mind were constantly elsewhere, he still couldn't neglect his job. Sure, he had the money to be able to forego the requirement of working, but Adam had already retreated into a minor state of depression. Having something to keep his mind at least somewhat busy was probably the best thing for him. Plus, he hated to disappoint people, and had he left Hogwarts, he knew he'd disappoint the rest of the staff there.

It was early, probably a bit too early for many students to be up and about, but many of the professors were awake and getting ready for the day of classes. Adam found himself going to the staff lounge, where he normally started his morning, to get a cup of hot coffee. The bitter liquid burned his mouth, but he took a large gulp. He needed the caffeine to keep him alert and going. Normally, he'd get his morning jolt from a cup of tea, but ever since Dixie had left him, he couldn't bring himself to drink tea. It had been one of their things. One of the things that they shared. So many memories were intertwined into such a simple concept, such a simple drink. Adam took another gulp of the hot coffee, and in doing so he managed to spill some of the dark liquid down the front of his robes.

"Jobberknoll!" he cursed, taking his wand to the spill and drying it up. "I'm so damn clumsy," he said, turning to realize that there had only been one other professor there to witness his misfortune. "Don't mind me, Hermione," he said. When he saw that it was her who was in the room with him, his mind instantly though of Harry and of Ron. The three of them had been very well known in the wizarding world, and having only been a year behind them in school, Adam remembered a lot of what the three were remembered for. Some of it included a lot of times of trouble, but there was also a lot of good that seemed to surround them. And then, just recently Harry had been killed when the fall of Voldemort had occurred. Surely Hermioned had taken it hard. Adam never really took the time to ask though. He didn't know Hermione very well, and she had always seemed like a celebrity to him; too important to bother. But now... now they were professors together. They were equals of sorts, and Adam realized how little he really knew about Hermione, aside from what all of the rest of the magical world knew of her. Still, if he knew one thing, he knew what it meant to lose someone who you were so close to. Maybe Dixie hadn't died like Harry did, but she was gone. And even then, death had been something Adam knew well about too. Even that hadn't seemed to avoid him lately. If one thing was certain, it seemed that fate wasn't stopped by anything. Nothing could hinder what was meant to happen, and Adam was starting to realize this.

((Yeah... I don't know if I like this or not, but it's how Adam came to me. I hope you can work with it. It's kind of hard to jump from one plot and start fresh. Let me know if you need me to change anything. ))

[Hermione Granger]

Hermione blinked into the bleak light of the autumn dawn. She lay on her four-poster bed, still and silent as the low twittering of early birds outside her cottage met her ears. Crookshanks slept at her feet, a ball of fluffy orange and brown. Hermione didn't make a move, partially because of her sleeping cat, but she was also devoid of energy. Yet, she was used to waking at an early hour. It was the dreams, the nightmares... She hadn't had a peaceful sleep for weeks, months... Perhaps Hermione would never dream of more innocent places and things ever again. She felt tainted; dirtied. And she couldn't cleanse herself of the filth she'd become entangled in. Eventually, after ten minutes of staring blankly up at the low ceiling of her bedroom, Hermione slowly shifted out of her bed, throwing back the covers and feeling the cruel cold creep in, infiltrating her haven of warmth and nightmares. Slipping her dainty feet into slippers, she threw on her nightgown and padded quietly into the bathroom, leaving Crookshanks curled like a ball at the end of her bed.

It took Hermione half an hour to get ready. After she'd dressed in her usual teaching robes - plain black with underlayers of pale colours (today it was rose pink) - she flew over to the Hogwarts castle from her Hogsmeade cottage. In the summer she had decided she'd walk to school, but in this sort of weather, where autumn was gradually turning into winter, it was much too cold to endure a forty-minute stroll. Hermione's breath curled in steamed tendrils from her mouth as she breathed, the mini clouds of fog fading away as she left them behind. She made sure not to fly too high, lest she hit the cold atmosphere, but she made certain she flew where there was dim sunlight. She wore a thick cloak, fake fur gloves and a warm scarf, but it wasn't enough to keep out the chill that seeped into her bones. Hermione was relieved when ten minutes later she landed in the castle grounds, hurrying into the familiar building in a bid to return to warmth.

Hermione never brought work home and so never had to take anything back to Hogwarts. All her homework marking and lesson planning was done in the castle, and at the end of the day she would return to her cottage and relax - forget she had work and responsibilites. Only, that meant she spent her late evenings reminiscing about Harry and Ron. So too often nowadays, even though Hermione had just begun her job this year, fallen into the routine of staying in the professors' lounge until late, and then retiring home for a restless sleep. Yesterday, as usual, she had finished her work at 10:30 p.m., and then flown home, only to lie deep into the night, fearing the familiar nightmares, reliving the past over and over again. Hermione clambered up the Hogwarts staircases and finally reached the staff room, thinking of the marked homework lying on her slice of the table and checking mentally what classes she had today.

Hermione opened the door and wondered if she was the first professor up and about in school. No doubt some were around in their classrooms, such as Profess-- Headmistress McGonagall. Hermione still thought of the ex-Transfiguration professor as her teacher. It had taken a while for it to sink in that it was a great privilege and honour for Dumbledore to ask her of all people - so young, so damaged - to take over Minerva McGonagall's role. It again showed how much Dumbledore thbought of her. Or maybe it was out of sympathy he had offered the job; sympathy for the wreck she had become after Harry's death, after all she had lost. The world had gone on without them - without her, without Harry Potter, who had saved them all - and Hermione had been nothing but a lost soul until this job came along. She'd spent a year, a whole twelve months, doing nothing - absolutely nothing. No work, no friends, no Ron even. Sometimes she thought of Ron, remembered him and his smile and his silly ways, and she felt her heart ache. It was just too painful to see him again. Ronald Weasley, like Harry Potter, was just a thing of the past now.

Hermione realised as she stepped into the lounge that the only professor there was Adam. Adam Greene... Hermione didn't really know about him, nor had she spoken to him a lot since she'd arrived - really, she hadn't done much socialising with the other teachers at all. She'd had a few words with her old professors - McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid of course - but everyone seemed to understand she needed space, time alone for herself to think things through. Hermione knew Adam once attended Hogwarts as a Slytherin; apparently he was around her age. He taught Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but besides those tiny details, she was rather clueless about her colleague. Oh, she knew he was relatively new to the job, like her, and that he was married. Or at least, the ring on his finger indicated that to be so. Hermione was about to mumble a hello, when Adam clumsily tipped the coffee down his robes. He swore loudly, but then realised she was standing there and greeted her. "Good morning," she replied with a soft smile. Really, she thought. His action was just like Ron. He was just less of a dork than he was.

Pushing Ron from her mind, Hermione retrieved her wand and approached Adam. She wasn't even thinking straight - her mind was filled with thoughts of the past, as usual - so she was acting on instinct. "Here, let me," Hermione murmured, deftly flicking her wand at Adam's robes. In an instant the wet stains were gone. Flashing him a brief small smile, she turned and went to make herself a beverage - her usual morning tea. It was a ritual she clung to, to keep herself sane and alive. Physically, the tea did little to wake her up from her nightmares, but mentally it kept her on the straight and narrow; there were still some little things in life she had retained... there was still some normality in her life. "You're early," Hermione eventually commented when the silence in the large room hurt her ears; darn, she had never been good at socialising, and she'd only gotten worse... Her wand weaved elaborately and expertly through the air as the mugs and crockery danced around to create her tea. "I thought I was the only early one around here." Once she'd finished she sat down opposite Adam and accioed some of her work to her lap, flipping through it absently. Half her mind was trying trying to stay awake and alive, half was trying to forget. As the former focused on Adam, the latter continued pushing Ron aside.

Hermione needed Adam to talk to her before she self-combusted. She was desperate. Looking up at him with a hidden expression of pain and obvious hesitation in her eyes, she said as she gestured at her surroundings, "Is getting used to this difficult?" Back then, the teenage Hermione wouldn't have made desperate conversation; she would've welcomed loneliness, a time to study by herself. Not any more. Hermione had grown up and she'd changed. Now, she was always alone.

[Professor Adam Greene]

Her actions were somewhat motherly, but appreciated nonetheless. "Thanks," Adam said, a bit surprised at Hermione's lack of restraint as she got rid of the coffee stains from his robes. He knew she was brilliant, but he hadn't quite been around her enough to realize she was rather straightforward and candid. Watching her curiously as she prepared her own drink (tea, Adam noticed), he stuttered when she commented on his being early. "I, uh... oh," he looked at his watch. "I guess I didn't realize it was that early. Skipped breakfast at home because..." he didn't feel like explaining why as it directly revolved around the fact that Dixie was no longer there. Adam could cook just fine, but he found no reason to cook breakfast for just himself. "...well, I just thought I'd grab something to eat here." He nodded and then walked over to the table where there was always a variety of fruit and baked goods that the house elves provided daily. He grabbed a banana, a raspberry-almond muffin, a glass of juice... and a slice of pumpkin bread. He had a healthy appetite at least. Taking his plateful of food, Adam sat back down in the seat across from Hermione.

He watched Hermione sip at her tea as she quickly flew through the secretarial tasks of grading papers and other busy-work that seemed to be what most professors hated. Adam didn't exactly hate it, but he would much rather be in the classroom interacting with the students. The theory behind Ancient Runes and Arithmancy wasn't as exciting as seeing the students practise their analyzing skills as they assessed their lives and the situations around them with the ancient magical practices which Ancient Runes and Arithmancy provided. As he starred at her, not really realizing that he was, Adam couldn't help but catch Hermione's eye when she stopped what she was doing and gave him an odd look that he couldn't quite interpret. Once again, he seemed unable to compile an intelligent sounding answer. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or perhaps it was the intrigue he found while watching Hermione, someone he barely knew but felt like he knew her well enough just the same.

"This? Well, I don't really know what you mean..." His furrowed brow might have been indicative of his confusion with what Hermione meant by her question. "Do you mean being a professor in general?" he questioned and then proceeded to answer as though it was what she meant. "I guess you get used to it as you go. I mean, you're about the same age as me, so I assume you experience the same difficulty of knowing how to interact as an authority figure with those students who are only a few years younger than yourself. But, other than that..." he shrugged. "...no, I don't think it's too difficult." He looked at her hard in the eyes, wondering why she asked such an open-ended question. She seemed to be searching for answers, and Adam wondered why she'd continue their conversation with something so deep. He didn't mind, not at all. He just found it interesting since he barely knew her. Part of him though felt a sort of comfort, knowing that she must've been comfortable enough with him to skip the normal chit-chat which just scratched the surface. "Are you finding it difficult?" he asked, feeling a bit more confident to be able to talk to Hermione, and wondering if perhaps she only asked because she wanted to answer it for herself.

[Hermione Granger]

"You're welcome," Hermione muttered quietly, turning away. She'd long forgotten the meaning behind 'thank you'. What was it? A mere pleasantry... a polite saying that had morphed into the common language, common habit, common response of the people. It didn't mean anything any more... It was just an empty saying; an empty lie. Not to say Adam was an empty soul, but... the phrase, it meant nothing to Hermione. He might as well not have said anything at all. It couldn't touch her... it seemed nothing could. Hermione compared herself to ice; like ice, she was cold, bitter, frozen... She couldn't feel anything. All she could do was sit there, rigid and alone and always unfeeling. Hermione couldn't see Adam as she made her tea subconsciously, her back turned to him, but she could hear the hesitation in his voice as he replied. He obviously hadn't planned on having a breakfast. He was a bad liar. Well, so was Hermione. They at least had one thing in common. Well, actually, Hermione wasn't a bad liar - she just hated lying. In the past, the most convincing liar had always been Hermione... and she had always been the most against lying... deceiving. Somehow, though, Harry and Ron had pulled her into a life of lies and deceit, and now it seemed second nature - almost natural. Was she even human any more? Hermione doubted it. All her humanity had been stripped away from her - sacrificed for the people, those ungrateful people...

Adam changed his mind. He picked up some food. Hermione hadn't eaten either, and she wouldn't have done so if she wasn't so conscious of her health. She didn't care about herself, but the intellectual within her forced her hand to stretch out as she walked to her seat and grab an apple. Hermione watched Adam carefully for an answer to her question. She wondered absently if he found her cold and distant... like a block of ice. She didn't really care. People always thought she was unfeeling, since she was a little girl. All Hermione Granger cared about was books. But it wasn't true. It had never been true. But now the two people - the only two people - who knew the real Hermione Granger were gone... One was in Heaven. The other subjected to Hell. The thought of Ron sitting out there somewhere, wallowing in the only way Ronald Weasley knew how, was heartbreaking, but long ago Hermione had taught herself to forget about Ron. If she thought about him it would just be too painful... too much. "Yes." Hermione's confirmation was accompanied by a curt nod. She listened to Adam talk with some interest, pleased that he was taking her mind off issues she'd rather not confront for now. Maybe when she got home, alone in the dark. Then, she'd weep for the past like she did every night. "A year older," she corrected Adam with a wry smile, then clarified it so it made sense. "I'm a year older than you. I'm twenty. You're nineteen. Professor Dumbledore told me." Hermione had always been strict with her facts - she liked to get it right.

"You started teaching the moment you graduated?" she proceeded to ask him out of interest, partially out of desperation to avoid other thoughts that were bound to creep up on her at the back of her conscious. They never left her alone. Like the nightmares, she had grown somewhat accustomed to them. But the pain, dulled as it was, was still pain. "Since you've been here longer than me," she added by way of explaining why she had deducted such a fact. "And to teach two subjects too... That's impressive." Hermione allowed a small smile at Adam. "Your classes are smaller than mine, though, and you have less classes overall. Transfiguration is too popular amongst students." She wasn't trying to be competitive, but it was in Hermione's nature to stamp her superiority before someone else tried to stamp on her. She hated being judgemental, but she just was. It was human. And the fact that Adam was a Slytherin graduate made her suspicions rise automatically. He was good-looking, charming, talented evidently, but this only served her to deflect from him rather than attract her to him. His attributes reminded her of Draco Malfoy somewhat, and the last person she wanted to remember was him. That pain in the... Oh, the years Hermione had put up with his outrageous presence. That year she slapped him had been one of the best moments of her life...

"I think I scare them, actually." Hermione's smile thinned. "It doesn't help that they know who I am... They think they know who I am, anyway. They know bits of my history, and they also know lies about my history." She turned her head to stare off into the distance with a vaguely concealed look of pain in her eyes. "I was bound to be a strict teacher. I think students are in class to learn. And if that's not their objective they can go. I don't want them... and their classmates certainly don't need them." Hermione paused, then cringed and looked back at Adam. "Sorry, I must sound like a really stuck-up teacher." She gave a quiet chuckle. "They respect me," she concluded softly. "And that's all I'm asking for. I don't want anything else... I feel so much older than them - like I'm fifty years old instead of twenty. I don't think the age gap bothers me much." She replied honestly and stared at her paperwork. "Difficult?" Hermione laughed, but it didn't last. "I wouldn't call it difficult... Just different. To what I'm used to." She smiled a little warmer at Adam. "Do you know what I mean? You spend seven years at this school... this home. And you're just a lowly student with the world at your feet, all that knowledge... And then you're a professor and you're... above them." Hermione shrugged casually. "It's... a change. I never imagined I'd be here. Not seven years ago. I didn't even know magic existed." Hermione cast a glance at Adam. Her eyes narrowed just a bit. "You know I'm muggleborn, right? It's not hidden fact." She wondered how a Slytherin would react to her open confession.

[Professor Adam Greene]

Dumbledore had told Hermione his age? What else had Dumbledore shared so willingly, and why was it important that Hermione knew this information in the first place? After thinking about it, Adam realized that it probably had something to do with both of their ages in general. For professors, they were young; too young, some might argue. Perhaps when Hermione was hired, Dumbledore informed her that there would be those who didn't think she was ready. Perhaps he mentioned Adam as another young professor in case she had any doubts that she was the only one. Adam had went about earning the position just like any other professor would have though. He applied, completed the necessary evaluations, and was appointed by Dumbledore. Surely Hermione had done the same.

"Close enough," he said with raised brows, finding it funny that she felt the need to state the facts. It was almost as though she were making sure he knew his place. As a nineteen year old, he was on the edge of his teenage years while she was firmly planted on the brink of her twenties. Adam felt much older at heart. He always had. Practically a father to Sierra, Adam was living the life of an adult since he could remember. He was self-motivated and mature. Then again, just knowing this for himself wouldn't sate the doubtfulness of others. Perhaps Hermione was entitled to making it known she was a year older than him, a year more experienced than him. Still, he had been a professor for just a bit longer. But, who was really keeping a tally of experience anyways? Apparently Hermione had been. He smirked but just let her establish herself. Adam was used to being treated like the normal Slytherin might be treated, especially by someone like Hermione who clearly had formulated a certain view of Slytherins.

"I started the December after graduation," he explained. "It was just Arithmancy until this year. When Professor Tyler left, they asked me to fill her spot. Perhaps just until a proper replacement is found. I prefer Arithmancy anyways. It was always my best subject." The truth was, Adam excelled at all theoretical subjects, those that required little or no wand-work. His four OWLs that he receive an 'outstanding' mark for included Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, History of Magic, and Muggle Studies. "I had taken a job with the Ministry just after graduating." He wondered if she cared. "I was fully intending to someday be the Minister of Magic." It was a grand dream, he knew that, but Adam had once believed he could. It only took a few months in the ministry to realize how wrong he was. Adam despised the work. It was nothing like he expected. Perhaps being a professor wasn't his dream either, but he welcomed the change and was at least content with his current job. "Obviously things have changed," he said with a hint of worn acceptance to his ever-changing life.

Adam noted that she spoke with such certainty, such forceful assurance of what she believed. She was unafraid to speak her mind, a true Gryffindor trait she seemed to embody. "Yeah." It was all he could say to her comments about teaching. Everything that she said seemed so true. Perhaps most of it was because Adam understood what she meant and felt similarly, but perhaps part of him agreed with her just because she could be so convincing. Never faltering once in her expression of opinions. She'd make a good Minister of Magic, he thought silently to himself.

The way she ended her string of thoughts though left Adam a bit on the defence. "You can still cast a spell though, right?" His reply was a mixture of sarcasm and humour. Part of him was anxious to crush all assumptions she might have held against him, yet the other half of him wanted to approach the subject with ease, making sure she knew that blood didn't matter to him whatsoever. "If you think I care whether you were born in a wizarding family or a muggle family, you're wrong. Hell, your parents were probably better than mine. If you don't believe me, you can pay them a visit... in Azkaban." Perhaps he was going for the schock-treatment, or maybe he just wanted Hermione to give him a fair chance as a colleague. As the two younger professors, it made sense that they might at least be able to turn to one another for advice. At least Adam thought it might be a nice option. If Hermione was going to judge him though, it seemed that being friends was out of the question. Still, he felt that deep down she wasn't the type to not give him a chance. She had every right to test the waters, make her assumptions at first, but Adam wasn't afraid to tear them all down.

Giving her an odd sort of grin, he shrugged his shoulders. "I'm probably a lot different than what you'd think." He wanted to make sure he assumed the same of her. It would be very easy to assume he knew her from everything that had surfaced of her, but it would be unfair of him to give her a chance to let the true Hermione shine through. "But I guess I should expect the same from you."

[Hermione Granger]

Close enough? Hermione had to force her tongue down, in fear it would lash out in a snappy retort. "You're nineteen, I'm twenty. It doesn't matter how many days in between. Age gives perceived maturity, when, in fact, it means nothing. It depends on the individual person, what he or she does with his or her life, not the age of a person. I knew someone who saved the world at nineteen years old." Hermione's eyes levelled unwaveringly on Adam's, as though to tell him she wasn't scared, not of her him nor of her past. The truth was, she was terrified of the ghosts of Harry Potter and her friends who had died fighting with him. To Adam, and to the world, Hermione was infallible, strong; but to herself, Hermione was the weakest, most pathetic creature. Her self-esteem, her self-belief, which had always been a burning fire, had been reduced to ashes, as though someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her and now she was struggling with all her might to stay afloat, to re-ignite. "I believe people of all ages can do amazing things. So I'm not questioning your teaching ability because of your age. Age is something we might as well not be shy to state, since it bears so little weight. I'm sorry if you don't agree with me." No, Hermione wasn't sorry at all. She wasn't particularly sorry if she offended her colleague, didn't care if she made another enemy. The more enemies, the sooner she would be killed off, maybe. Like Harry.

Hermione nodded absently at Adam's answer but remained silent. Nowadays, her words were few, but each time she opened her mouth, a philosophical spiel always seemed to erupt forthwith. Hermione didn't know why... Perhaps she was justifying why she was still alive; the point of living. Hermione had no purpose here, anywhere, and so she questioned everything, challenged everyone, until there were no more answers left to find - and still, she felt utterly desolate and empty. Hermione held back a reply when Adam stated he'd wanted to become the Minister of Magic. Now that was an ambition... Typical of a Slytherin. Hermione held a cynical view of the Ministry; it contained corrupt individuals who only wanted to further their own desires, not those of the nation. The look on Adam's face had prevented her from voicing this aloud, and she was thus pleased when he said 'things had changed'. Maybe he had realised the Ministry wasn't all fun and games. Hermione had been there before, and she never wished to go there again unless necessary. However, the impression Adam gave her was not that he had given up on his dream because he had come to see its flaws; rather, it seemed he had been forced to accept he could never follow his preferred route. Hermione didn't know what to think of this. She hated the Ministry, would dissuade anyone from joining its ranks, but concurrently, she believed in working as hard as you could to get to where you wanted to - well, that was her old ethos anyway, and she supposed it was a trait of hers that was rather Slytherin-like. "Things change," Hermione echoed listlessly, her thoughts clouded with a mixture of the Ministry and Harry.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up at Adam's defensive tone. So he had detected her suspicions of him. She didn't care. "Of course I can," she replied calmly, closing her book on her lap and staring at Adam without a hint of hesitation or fear. "Better than some purebloods, actually. I don't call it bragging; I call it fact. I'm not a genius, but I work hard, and I deserve what I've achieved because I tried my best. I don't think blood has anything to do with it - just like age doesn't either. There is too much discrimination in this world, whether it be race, age, status, blood... I'm not attacking your house. I'm just stating a true fact: that everyone in this world is biased, and Slytherins particularly against muggleborns. Why else would only purebloods be accepted into the house? I am fully entitled to my opinion because I have endured more than enough... stick from those of your house the last few years. I have endured it, but it has led me to realise I cannot expect others of Slytherin to accept me because of my blood." Hermione gave Adam a pointed look. "You can't blame me for being defensive, either, of my blood. It's been bred within me, like being bred to hate us is in yours."

Hermione watched Adam with a level expression. The fact his family were in Azkaban only slightly surprised her. She hadn't expected it, which is why she was surprised, but she wasn't shocked by it - there were too many people's parents or relatives in Azkaban. In a way, it was normality for Hermione. Azkaban had been a common topic in her conversations with Harry and Ron; Sirius had lived there for years, so she'd heard about it from him too. It was a terrible place, but murderers deserved to be there. However, she didn't know why Adam's parents were in Azkaban. Heck, she had helped put a couple of people in Azkaban... "One visit is enough for anyone," she answered with a measured, careful tone, then relented in her cold expression. "I apologise if you are offended by my judgement of you. In a world of liars and murderers, it's difficult not to be stereotypical and suspicious of everyone..." Hermione's voice lowered and her eyes darkened. "I admire your view of the world. It's more sophisticated than most of those in Slytherin... though whether I can blame them for their upbringing is debatable." Hermione looked uncomfortable for a moment, but it soon passed. "It's also a... nicer view than mine. I can't meet someone and shake their hand without wandering if they'll kill me. It was the same with you when I met you. I asked Professor Dumbledore about you - that's why I know your age. I needed to know if I could trust you. We are colleagues in close proximity now... and although there don't seem to be any more threats to myself life, my instincts and reflexes still believe I'm going to be attacked any moment. I'm always on my guard."

Hermione's confession came tumbling out in the longest speech she had given since... a year? More? She couldn't remember. Why was she telling Adam so much? She didn't trust him straight off the bat because he'd told her he didn't care if she was muggleborn or not. He could be lying, for all she knew. But Adam had told her about his parents in Azkaban, and that... that had somehow softened Hermione. It is odd that it did, but after all, it was a link to Harry, to Sirius, to Ron even... Even if it came in the image of the worst wizard jail in Britain, it was still a link, one that would soon fade entirely and be forgotten. Hermione couldn't accept that. "Yeah. You are." Her eyes bored into Adam's for a few silent minutes, until Adam's final sentence actually brought a small smile creeping to her lips. "It depends on what you've heard," she said rather darkly, but then reverted to a normal tone of voice. "I'm... intelligent." She frowned at this description. It was so... factual. Like she had no personality. The first word to describe Hermione Granger was always 'intelligent' or something along the lines of mental prowess. No one used to acknowledge her for her other traits. "Brave..." A fond smile lit Hermione's lips. "Professor Dumbledore called me that. The Sorting Hat did too. I'm a perfectionist. A nit-picker. Anal, some call it." Her eyes began to hold amusement as she glanced across at Adam. "Bossy. Protective. I give everything my all." Hermione shrugged casually. "That's me in a nutshell. It's your turn." Somehow, in the space of a few minutes, she had grown comfortable with Adam's presence. She still harboured doubts, but it had been so long since Hermione had had human contact... Even she was beginning to fade away without it.

[Mrs Norris]

Suddenly Mrs Norris was awake. One moment she was not, then she was. Something happened that had woken her up. She gingerly lifted her head from her chair and looked around the small room that she shared with the bald headed man. His snores could be heard from one corner of the room. He was still asleep. Whatever had caused Mrs Norris to wake up obviously had not bothered him. She rolled her eyes. What else could be expected by a human? She lay her head back down upon the comfortable chair hoping that sleep would once again overcome her. She closed her eyes but felt her tail start to swish back and forth as if it had a mind of its own. It was useless. She was now awake. Once the tail was up there was no trying to get back to slumber. She slowly raised herself on all fours and arched her back in a stretch. It was still early. Much too early to worry about the students. Maybe some of the professors were awake though.

Mrs Norris made her way down the first floor corridor. Her soft paws made little sound on the cold stone. It was early mornings that Mrs Norris understood why humans wore rubber on their feet. She wished she had something to protect her sensitive feet from the hard ground. She held her tail straight in the air as a beacon to all those around not to step on her. As if she needed to though. The corridor was clear of students. A few miscellaneous Ravenclaws could been seen heading down to the Great Hall to catch an early breakfast but only one or two of them. Mrs Norris wasn't heading toward the Great Hall. She was interested in the Professors' Staff Room. Some of the professors ate breakfast at the staff table in the Great Hall but some preferred a quieter atmosphere. Thus, the Staff Room.

Mrs Norris soon found herself in front of the gargoyles who guarded the entrance to the room. She mewed. Nothing happened. She mewed again. She looked up at the gargoyles and sat on her hind legs. If they couldn't be persuaded with words maybe she needed another tactic. She could see the stone gargoyles look at her with their eyes. She lifted her paw and took out her claws. She idly slashed the air indicating that something was going to get scratched if they did not open the door. They just rolled their eyes. They must've have known that she was bluffing. There was no way that she could harm a piece of stone. Drastic times calls for drastic measures. She stood up and backed up a few paces. She was going to ram the door. Surely if there was someone inside they would hear her body slam against it and open the door for her. She lowered her head and sprinted toward the hidden panel. But the gargoyles had another idea. They opened the door just as she was going to hit it causing her to tumble into the room.

When she regained her composure she saw two professors sitting at the table. Hermione and Adam. The junior professors she liked to call them. They were still kittens. She couldn't believe that she did such a 'graceful' act in front of them. She could hear the gargoyles snickering. She picked herself up gave the two a friendly "Meow" and pranced out of the room as nothing had happened. She would kill those gargoyles someday.

[Professor Adam Greene]

Hate. That was a pretty strong word. Adam had always been wary of using such powerful words like hate... love... forever. "Don't judge a book by its cover," he stated simply. It wasn't really directed at Hermione as an accusation as much as he meant it as a reminder. Adam decided to leave it at that, especially when Hermione in turn offered an apology for judging him. However, she proceeded to spill off an explanation which made her seem very anxious and apprehensive. The topic of trust was one that was familiar to Adam. Ironically, it was the first topic of conversation between himself and Dixie. Nothing about Hermione reminded him of Dixie though. At least nothing that he could readily put his finger on.

"So you don't trust me," he stated with a huff of amusement. Adam smirked, finding it both understandable and unreasonable at the same time. Then again, he'd never experienced some of the things he knew that Hermione had. He probably didn't know the most of it either. It was obvious that the ministry was hiding a lot when it came to the events of Harry Potter and Voldemort. The secrets behind Hermione's eyes were probably surrounded by demons of pain and horror. Part of Adam didn't want to understand, but another part of him had an unexplained desire for Hermione to trust him. Why? He wasn't so sure. He just hated the thought that people couldn't trust him, especially when he'd never done anything to lose their trust. Adam lived his entire life trying to beat the odds, go against the stereotypes. Apparently he hadn't succeeded.

Something that he had said apparently knocked down at least one of Hermione's many barriers. She softened a bit, in her demeanour and her words. "That's... nice," Adam said after Hermione described herself. He didn't mean to sound sarcastic, but it could have easily been interpreted that way. "But... it's also very cliché." Adam was taking a step in faith, but he wanted to let Hermione see a bit of him that she might not have seen otherwise. "How about this." He collected his things, seeing that it was nearing the time that he should head toward the classroom before the students arrived. "I'm an heir to an inheritance that could allow me to forego work the rest of my life. The only reason I took it was so that I could make sure my sister would have everything she needed to be successful in life. I'm married, or at least I was married. The divorce papers are still being processed." A small pang of pain ran through his body at saying that out loud. "I have a kid. A son who I've haven't seen since the week he was born. I want nothing more than to be the father that my father wasn't." Adam knew he could go on for ten more minutes or so, but just a few more statements and he'd be done. "Every day I'm here teaching I wonder if I'm even making a difference. I want so bad to make a change, no matter how insignificant. And last... I'm scared to death. Not brave at all. I have no clue how I'll manage to keep living the way I'm living now, and that scares me more than anything."

How was that for a description? If Hermione didn't trust him now, at least she had a fair view to base her decision off of. "Now... now you can make your judgment," he concluded with a laugh. "And in the meantime, I've got a class to teach." As he turned, to go Adam saw Mrs Norris rolling through the entrance to the professor's lounge. Silly cat, he thought. "It was nice to formally meet you," he added, turning his glance over his shoulder as he waved a goodbye to Hermione.