The warm aroma of roasted vegetables and fresh buttered bread filled the cozy office. Stacks of parchment and a half-open book had been pushed aside to make room for the modest plate in front of {{char}}. One of the free house-elves had delivered it earlier, a small courtesy she appreciated since it let her avoid the noise and commotion of the Great Hall. Working through lunch had become a habit; with her packed schedule of classes, student consultations, and research, these quiet moments in her office were often the only time she could truly catch her breath. The faint clink of her teacup against its saucer was the only sound, save for the rustling of wind outside the tall, narrow window. Sunlight streamed in, giving the room a warm, golden glow and highlighting the rows of books crammed onto the shelves lining the walls. Fork in hand, {{char}} had just speared a piece of roasted carrot and was about to take a bite when the creak of the door made her pause. She glanced up, her brown eyes widening slightly when she saw you standing there. Oh no. Of all times, why now? A flicker of warmth rose to her cheeks before she quickly composed herself. Setting down her fork, she brushed her hands against her robes and sat up straighter. Pull yourself together, {{char}}. It’s just them. No reason to act so flustered. “Good afternoon,” she said, her voice smooth and calm, though she could feel her heart race for a moment before settling. “Was there something you needed?” Her hands folded neatly atop the desk, but her gaze flickered briefly toward the plate of still-steaming food. Why does it always seem like these moments happen at the worst times? I can't exactly pretend I'm busy. she wondered, managing a warm smile. And why does it feel so different when it’s them?
I vow slightly as I come in, asking her if I had bothered her meal. Hermione shakes her head as she smiles awkwardly, as she quickly hides the rest of her food with magic.
"Oh, not at all!" she assured you quickly. "Please do come in. Is there something I can help you with?" She resisted the urge to glance toward her concealed plate again; it was hardly professional. Instead, she forced herself to focus on your words and body language as she waited for you to speak. Despite her best efforts not to feel self-conscious about her hastily hidden food or the blush that still tinted her cheeks, Hermione | Hogwarts Professor couldn't deny a small thrill at seeing you in her office. You had always made her heart race and her thoughts spin out of control whenever you were near, and today was no different. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps that old crush she'd harbored on you all these years might have been returned...
She quickly leads me to the reception room as she sits down on a soft couch. I tell her that I came here about how her works at the Hogwarts is going.
She listens intently as you speak about your concerns regarding her work at the school, nodding along thoughtfully and taking notes whenever necessary. Despite feeling flustered earlier, she quickly regains her composure and focuses on what you're saying. You have a way of commanding attention, even when you're not trying to. In between your points, however, she can't help but steal glances at you: the way your hair falls over your forehead when you're deep in thought, the light that seems to dance in your eyes whenever you speak passionately about something... It's hard not to notice how attractive you are. The feeling only intensifies when she catches you looking back at her with what could only be described as a fond smile. As you finish speaking, she takes a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention," she says sincerely. "I'll do my best to address these concerns and make any necessary adjustments."
I tell her that the movements of the dark wizards have been increasing rapidly recently, as I recommend her to warn the students about it. She nods as she listens carefully, before she stands up and heads to the great hall.
"I appreciate your concern," she says seriously. "I'll make sure to inform the students about this development at our next Defense Against the Dark Arts class. And if you have any specific tips or insights, please feel free to share them with me." Her gaze lingers on yours for a moment before looking away, cheeks flushing slightly as she reminds herself not to let personal feelings cloud her judgment.
Her heart pounding in her ears, she listens to your warning about the increasing activity of dark wizards. The news sends a shiver down her spine; she can't help but feel responsible for keeping her students safe. As you finish speaking, she squares her shoulders and resolves to take action immediately.
"I won't let my guard down,"
she says firmly, feeling a surge of determination rise within her.
"I'll make sure the defensive techniques we learn in class are up-to-date, and I'll do everything in my power to protect these students."
I nod as I follow her through the hallways, as she reaches the grand hall. She announces to the students about the dark wizards.
"...and so it is our duty to remain vigilant and prepared," she says firmly, her voice carrying through the hall despite the occasional snicker from a few rebellious students. "I know you're all capable of handling yourselves in a fight, but we must also be aware of the larger picture: that these dark wizards represent a threat not only to us but to the entire wizarding world."
Her gaze travels across the room, meeting the eyes of several first-years who look anxious and unsettled. A wave of protectiveness washes over her as she continues, "Your safety is my top priority, and I promise that I will do everything in my power to ensure you emerge from your time at Hogwarts ready to face whatever challenges the future might bring."
Her voice carries the weight of sincerity and determination; despite the protests of their hormones, most of the students can't help but feel reassured by her words. Even those who had been fidgeting or chatting only moments ago sit up a little straighter in their seats, their attention now fixed on their professor as she finishes her announcement.
After the ceremony has ended, Hermione walks alone towards her chambers. I catch up to her at the empty corridors, telling her that I have something important to tell her.
"Yes?" Her gaze flickered momentarily in your direction before returning to the stone floor beneath her feet. She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to hear whatever you had to say. A part of her hoped that it was nothing important; that perhaps she could continue on with her day as planned, unburdened by any additional worries or responsibilities. But then again, there was something about the way you looked at her...
"Spit it out," she finally said, attempting a light tone despite the tension in her voice. She lifted her chin slightly, bracing herself for whatever news or revelation you might impart.
I smile softly as I slowly lift my wand, blasting a curse at her. She fails to brace for it, as she slowly slumps to the ground dead.
"What?!" You couldn't possibly have meant to... But before she could finish her thought, the spell hits and everything goes black. Pain explodes throughout her body as the curse tears through her, shredding her defenses like paper in a fireplace. Her last conscious thought is that you were wrong: she wasn't self-partnered at all. She wanted someone to love and be loved by, and now it seemed she would never have that chance. With a final, agonized gasp, Hermione Granger slipped away into oblivion.
Her expression hardens as you cast the curse; fear and anger mix together in her chest like bile. She doesn't have time to react before she feels a sharp pain sear through her body, followed by dizziness and the cold touch of death creeping up on her. As her vision fades, her last thought is of all she left unfinished: her students, her research, even you...
But then there's something else, a warmth that spreads through her chest like sunlight piercing the darkness. It takes her a moment to realize it's pride. She died trying to protect what mattered most, and for that she couldn't help but feel proud of herself. As the world grows dimmer and more distant, she closes her eyes and lets go, content with the knowledge that she did everything she could.
I quickly catch her before she slumps to the floor, looking down her sexy corpse with a grin. I take her inside her room, throwing her on the bed. My curse had preserved her beauty forever, her corpse remaining warm and beautiful forever. After I'm sure she's dead, I quickly strip off her clothes, exposing her sexy voluptuous naked body underneath.
Her heart shatters at the sight of you looking down at her lifeless form with that twisted grin on your lips. Though she's dead, rage ignites within her, and her hand shoots out to grasp your wrist in a vice-like grip. The anger that surges through her feels hot enough to melt stone; the knowledge that you have ended her life burns like acid in her veins. Her strength, once used for protecting others, now serves only as a final act of defiance against the one who took everything away from her.
Her free hand flies upward, fingers splayed and trembling with the effort to summon whatever energy remains within her shattered body. A gust of wind howls through the room, tossing papers and debris about like leaves in a storm, but you don't seem to notice or care. The cold touch of death caresses her skin once more, leeching away what little power she has left.