Mr maybe

Chapter 12

HERMIONE P.O.V

Thank God they got Professor Lupin back as our DADA teacher after the Great War, he's the only really competent, fair DADA teacher we've ever had. With his help, no doubt everyone in the class will at least get an E in their NEWTs.

RING!

I hurriedly put away my books at the sound of the bell, ready to leave as soon as he dismisses us. You see, so far I've managed not to look over at Dr- him. Every time I so much as glance at him, the hurt of not being able to talk to him and memories of that kiss, that wonderful, soft, earth-shattering kiss, come rushing painfully back...

Hermione, stop it. You know where this road leads... Shaking my head vigorously to clear my mind of those painful thoughts, I turn to Lupin, who is handing out sheets of paper.

"Now, complete this in time for our next lesson," he instructs, passing one to me. I immediately stuff it into my bag and jump up, waving hurriedly to Harry and Ron, who are still talking to Dean, Neville and Seamus who are seated at the table behind ours. They all turn and smile at me before going back to their conversation.

Right, Hermione, eyes down. I walk past his table and blush as I feel eyes on me, seemingly watching my every move as I stride past my fellow classmates. I reach the door and, thanking God for my quick and effective exit, pull it open.

AAH! MY EYES!

Instinctively, I raise a hand to my face as a million flashbulbs go off, blinding me. I stand here, my world temporarily all white as I blink rapidly. I have my suspicions as to what exactly is going on, but it can't be that... can it? Isn't it still too early in the year? They couldn't have made up their minds that quickly. But, what am I going to do about... OK, one second. Keeping my eyes firmly shut, I open my bag and root through it frantically. Please, do NOT tell me they aren't in here. I haven't cleaned out this bag for months, having used it mainly during what remained of the summer holidays after Harry, Ron and I defeated Voldemort. It must- Ah ha! Thank God. I pull out the sunglasses I've been searching for and jam them over my eyes. I blink rapidly. Yes! My eyesight restored, I remove my right hand from my eyes.

Oh. My. God. Gasping, I look around at what lays just beyond the doorway. Out in the corridor, what seems like hundreds of reporters and photographers scream out questions and snap a million photos. Bewildered, I take in the situation in utter disbelief. What the fuck is going on here?

"Miss Granger! Just how long have you and Mr Malfoy been involved?"

"Is it true that you and Draco are no longer an item because you slept with Ron Weasley?"

"Miss Granger, do you want to comment on a rumour that you and Mr Malfoy were caught having sex under the Quidditch Bleachers?"

As the questions get more and more intrusive and explicit, I blush furiously. How dare they? OK, Hermione. How are we going to get out of this? The cameras continue to go off in my face as I glance desperately around the packed corridor, making me thank the Lord that I put on some sunglasses.

Suddenly, I feel a hand come to rest on my back and I turn around to see Harry and Ron, who are gazing at me in concern. I look back at them, helplessly.

"Come on, Mione," Harry mumbles, eyes now on the busy photographers in front of us. The entire class is now behind us, looking around in confusion at the scene.

"On three," he continues, nodding at Ron. "One. Two. Three!"

We start pushing our way through the crowd, cameras still going off hundreds of times a second, reporters still screaming out questions. Thank God these two are so tall and well built from Quidditch, I would never have been able to push through these people on my own.