¿Mixed Chemistry?
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
25
Views:
9,906
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
25
Views:
9,906
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
cap 11
Chap 21.8 the chemistry teacher
Hermione had primarily lived in the Wizarding world for much of her adult life, with the occasional visit to her parents’ home. But she never forgot the muggle way of doing things. She sat in front of her laptop computer, adding the finishing touches to her résumé. She smiled as she remembered once how her father had helped her mother revamp hers.
* * *
“Honey,” her father said massaging her mother's shoulders as he sat behind her, “A little embellishment won’t hurt.”
“Very funny,” she remembered her mother turning around to kiss him. She smiled at him, “Why? Are you planning to cut me from the practice?”
He pulled her chair in close to him. He kissed her deeply. Hermione cringed at watching her parents make out. At the time, Hermione, all of thirteen years old, thought it disgusting.
Now that she was all grown up, she missed being able to have moments like that with Ron. She twirled her wedding ring around her finger as she looked at the computer screen. Yes, embellishment would not hurt one bit.
* * *
She finished dotting her ‘i’ in her signature. She took a seat. A dark haired, blue-eyed young man, nodded at her as he pulled out his mail from his in-box. He flashed her a smile.
“Hola Señora Huerta,” the young Spaniard said. He added, “¿Hay nuevos datos de historia que me puede decir para enriquecer el aprendizaje de los kangaroos?”(1)
The secretary just laughed as she slapped him on his arm. Hermione hid a smile. The young man gave her one last nod as he exited the office. Her fingers rustled the employment application form and her printed résumé nervously.
“Señora Weasley,” the older woman summoned the Briton signalling that the principal was ready for teh new applicant, “La Señora Martinez está lista para Usted.”
“Gracias,” Hermione said in her best Spanish as she followed her into the large office.
Hermione tried to muster all of what little confidence she had. She was in the muggle realm now. No magic could help her get this new position.
“Señora Weasley,” the principal of the secondary school stood up and extended her hand.
Hermione shook her hand. She handed the older woman the papers and nervously took her seat.
The older woman looked over the application and résumé, nodding her head in acknowledgement of the young woman’s accomplishments. She listed seven years dealing with chemicals (She did take Professor Snape’s Potions class from day one; and if that didn’t qualify her for all the chemicals muggle students had to deal with in a chemistry class then she didn’t know what would.). She took in a deep breath.
“I’m impressed,” Mrs. Martinez began in her best English as she took note that the young woman was an out-of-towner. “So, Señora Weasley, Sevilla’s a bit out of the way from London. What brings you all the way here?”
Hermione took another breath, “I’ve always enjoyed my time here on holiday.”
“Says here, you are widowed,” the older woman said leafing through her paperwork.
Hermione took in a deep breath, “My husband passed away a couple of months ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Weasley.”
“I’m coping. I think this move has helped.”
The older woman nodded. “You used to work in a consulting firm in London.”
“Yes, it was a small firm,” Hermione lied. The older woman raised her eyebrows trying to fish for more of a response. Hermione’s skin seemed to start to sweat as she chose her words carefully, “I helped to forecast future events for our clients.”
“Sounds like interesting work,” Mrs. Martinez said sincerely. “How good are you in a classroom environment?”
Hermione took another gulp, “I feel I’m up to the challenge.”
The older woman looked at the younger one. She studied her up and down. “We’ll give you a shot. Y ¿Cómo es su castellano?” (2)
“Entonces,” she answered making sure that she didn’t use the ceceo. “Bien, más o menos. Yo sé bastante para enseñar.” (3)
“Muy bien pues. Va a empezar el lunes que viene,” the older woman nodded as she stood up and walked over to the door.
Hermione sat not really believing what she was hearing. The older woman had just hired her and she would start on Monday.
“Señora Huerta,” Señora Martinez spoke to the school’s secretary. “¿Le puede ayudar a la Señora Weasley completar sus papeles?”
The school’s SASA nodded her head and smiled welcoming the new chemistry teacher. She ushered the brown haired woman to a desk where she would fill out a mountain of personnel paperwork. All the while, Hermione just smiled.
* * *
She left the García Lorca Escuela Secundaria smiling. She was oblivious to the other person who exited the school right behind her. She crossed the street; he crossed the street. She walked down the sidewalk; he walked down the same sidewalk, pausing only to pick up an afternoon paper. It wasn’t until she turned up the steps to her apartment building that she had noticed the same young man from the school make the turn at the end of the block.
She was a little nervous. Was he following her? No, he couldn’t be. She decided to take the stairs; afraid of being locked in a box with a potential stalker. She reached the eleventh floor and headed towards her door just as the lift dinged.
The young man stepped out of the lift glancing at his paper. To her, it appeared as if her were heading straight at her. She fumbled with her keys. What was wrong with her? She was face to face with a stalker, she thought to herself. She dropped her keys.
The young man picked them up. She almost pasted herself onto the wall afraid of getting near him. She tripped over her own feet and fell backwards.
“¿Está bien?” the young man looked over at her asking about her wellbeing. He held his hand out to help her up and seeing the ring, he added, “¿Señora?”
“¿Me está siguiendo?” she asked a bit frightened at the thought that he might be following her; not even hiding her English accent.
“No, I’m not following you,” he said in his best English with a slight Spanish accent. “Um. Hmm, Soy Juan Carlos Torres.
“I teach history at the school,” he began as he handed her the keys. “I also live in the building.”
She felt so silly. Her face turned red, “I’m sorry. Lo lamento mucho.”
“Está bien.”
“Hermione Weasley,” she said extending her hand. “Es un placer.”
“Mucho gusto,” he returned her greeting. “So the buzz has you filling our chemistry void.”
She smiled. “Would you like to have some tea,” she offered. “I’d like to apologize for overreacting.”
“It’s not a problem,” he flashed her another smile. “Tea sounds very nice.”
They had tea and dessert as they talked with each other. Hermione had told her new friend how she had just moved there about two weeks ago. She mentioned that she was a widow. He mentioned that he was gay. They hit it off really well. The one and only thing that she kept from him was that she was a muggle-born witch.
* * *
Later that same night, Draco Malfoy paced in the darkness of the family owlery anxiously waiting for a reply. After the incident, he busied himself with helping to further the movement’s cause, albeit with less enthusiasm than before.
He sat next to the open window, his back against the wall. He thought he had dozed off for no more than a minute when a dark brown owl gently nipped at his ear lobe. He shook off sleep and quickly grabbed the note from the bird.
He squinted at the parchment. He turned so that he could catch the light of the moon. He sank to the floor as he slowly read the old man’s scrawl:
I am sorry to inform you that the presence of the student in question no longer graces our world.
Keep safe, Draco.
Dumbledore
Draco saw the drop of moisture hit the parchment. He swallowed in disbelief. It felt as if his heart had leapt into his throat. A wave of emotions came over him.
He crumpled and tore up the parchment. He was angry for caring. He stood up ready to exit the owlery. He looked down at the shredded pieces. He swallowed, holding back a sob. He waved his wand around the pieces of parchment. They magically adhered themselves together.
He gingerly picked up the slightly tattered and crumpled paper. He gave a second look at it and neatly folded it up and placed it in his shirt pocket.
He braced himself against the sill of the open window, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He should have written sooner. Maybe he could have sent for assistance; the best magical healers could have been beckoned.
He looked into the darkness of the sky. If the magical world had a god it appeared as if Draco were searching the night sky for it.
He went to bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He placed his hand over his shirt pocket, feeling for the folded parchment. For the first time since his childhood, he had cried himself to sleep.
-----
A/N
(1) ¿Hay nuevos datos ... aprendizaje de los kangaroos? - Are there any new historical facts that you can tell me to enrich the learning of my kangaroos?
(2) Y ¿Cómo es su castellano? - And, how is your Spanish?
(3) “Bien, más o menos. Yo sé bastante para enseñar.” - "Well, more or less. I know enough to teach."
Hermione had primarily lived in the Wizarding world for much of her adult life, with the occasional visit to her parents’ home. But she never forgot the muggle way of doing things. She sat in front of her laptop computer, adding the finishing touches to her résumé. She smiled as she remembered once how her father had helped her mother revamp hers.
* * *
“Honey,” her father said massaging her mother's shoulders as he sat behind her, “A little embellishment won’t hurt.”
“Very funny,” she remembered her mother turning around to kiss him. She smiled at him, “Why? Are you planning to cut me from the practice?”
He pulled her chair in close to him. He kissed her deeply. Hermione cringed at watching her parents make out. At the time, Hermione, all of thirteen years old, thought it disgusting.
Now that she was all grown up, she missed being able to have moments like that with Ron. She twirled her wedding ring around her finger as she looked at the computer screen. Yes, embellishment would not hurt one bit.
* * *
She finished dotting her ‘i’ in her signature. She took a seat. A dark haired, blue-eyed young man, nodded at her as he pulled out his mail from his in-box. He flashed her a smile.
“Hola Señora Huerta,” the young Spaniard said. He added, “¿Hay nuevos datos de historia que me puede decir para enriquecer el aprendizaje de los kangaroos?”(1)
The secretary just laughed as she slapped him on his arm. Hermione hid a smile. The young man gave her one last nod as he exited the office. Her fingers rustled the employment application form and her printed résumé nervously.
“Señora Weasley,” the older woman summoned the Briton signalling that the principal was ready for teh new applicant, “La Señora Martinez está lista para Usted.”
“Gracias,” Hermione said in her best Spanish as she followed her into the large office.
Hermione tried to muster all of what little confidence she had. She was in the muggle realm now. No magic could help her get this new position.
“Señora Weasley,” the principal of the secondary school stood up and extended her hand.
Hermione shook her hand. She handed the older woman the papers and nervously took her seat.
The older woman looked over the application and résumé, nodding her head in acknowledgement of the young woman’s accomplishments. She listed seven years dealing with chemicals (She did take Professor Snape’s Potions class from day one; and if that didn’t qualify her for all the chemicals muggle students had to deal with in a chemistry class then she didn’t know what would.). She took in a deep breath.
“I’m impressed,” Mrs. Martinez began in her best English as she took note that the young woman was an out-of-towner. “So, Señora Weasley, Sevilla’s a bit out of the way from London. What brings you all the way here?”
Hermione took another breath, “I’ve always enjoyed my time here on holiday.”
“Says here, you are widowed,” the older woman said leafing through her paperwork.
Hermione took in a deep breath, “My husband passed away a couple of months ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Weasley.”
“I’m coping. I think this move has helped.”
The older woman nodded. “You used to work in a consulting firm in London.”
“Yes, it was a small firm,” Hermione lied. The older woman raised her eyebrows trying to fish for more of a response. Hermione’s skin seemed to start to sweat as she chose her words carefully, “I helped to forecast future events for our clients.”
“Sounds like interesting work,” Mrs. Martinez said sincerely. “How good are you in a classroom environment?”
Hermione took another gulp, “I feel I’m up to the challenge.”
The older woman looked at the younger one. She studied her up and down. “We’ll give you a shot. Y ¿Cómo es su castellano?” (2)
“Entonces,” she answered making sure that she didn’t use the ceceo. “Bien, más o menos. Yo sé bastante para enseñar.” (3)
“Muy bien pues. Va a empezar el lunes que viene,” the older woman nodded as she stood up and walked over to the door.
Hermione sat not really believing what she was hearing. The older woman had just hired her and she would start on Monday.
“Señora Huerta,” Señora Martinez spoke to the school’s secretary. “¿Le puede ayudar a la Señora Weasley completar sus papeles?”
The school’s SASA nodded her head and smiled welcoming the new chemistry teacher. She ushered the brown haired woman to a desk where she would fill out a mountain of personnel paperwork. All the while, Hermione just smiled.
* * *
She left the García Lorca Escuela Secundaria smiling. She was oblivious to the other person who exited the school right behind her. She crossed the street; he crossed the street. She walked down the sidewalk; he walked down the same sidewalk, pausing only to pick up an afternoon paper. It wasn’t until she turned up the steps to her apartment building that she had noticed the same young man from the school make the turn at the end of the block.
She was a little nervous. Was he following her? No, he couldn’t be. She decided to take the stairs; afraid of being locked in a box with a potential stalker. She reached the eleventh floor and headed towards her door just as the lift dinged.
The young man stepped out of the lift glancing at his paper. To her, it appeared as if her were heading straight at her. She fumbled with her keys. What was wrong with her? She was face to face with a stalker, she thought to herself. She dropped her keys.
The young man picked them up. She almost pasted herself onto the wall afraid of getting near him. She tripped over her own feet and fell backwards.
“¿Está bien?” the young man looked over at her asking about her wellbeing. He held his hand out to help her up and seeing the ring, he added, “¿Señora?”
“¿Me está siguiendo?” she asked a bit frightened at the thought that he might be following her; not even hiding her English accent.
“No, I’m not following you,” he said in his best English with a slight Spanish accent. “Um. Hmm, Soy Juan Carlos Torres.
“I teach history at the school,” he began as he handed her the keys. “I also live in the building.”
She felt so silly. Her face turned red, “I’m sorry. Lo lamento mucho.”
“Está bien.”
“Hermione Weasley,” she said extending her hand. “Es un placer.”
“Mucho gusto,” he returned her greeting. “So the buzz has you filling our chemistry void.”
She smiled. “Would you like to have some tea,” she offered. “I’d like to apologize for overreacting.”
“It’s not a problem,” he flashed her another smile. “Tea sounds very nice.”
They had tea and dessert as they talked with each other. Hermione had told her new friend how she had just moved there about two weeks ago. She mentioned that she was a widow. He mentioned that he was gay. They hit it off really well. The one and only thing that she kept from him was that she was a muggle-born witch.
* * *
Later that same night, Draco Malfoy paced in the darkness of the family owlery anxiously waiting for a reply. After the incident, he busied himself with helping to further the movement’s cause, albeit with less enthusiasm than before.
He sat next to the open window, his back against the wall. He thought he had dozed off for no more than a minute when a dark brown owl gently nipped at his ear lobe. He shook off sleep and quickly grabbed the note from the bird.
He squinted at the parchment. He turned so that he could catch the light of the moon. He sank to the floor as he slowly read the old man’s scrawl:
I am sorry to inform you that the presence of the student in question no longer graces our world.
Keep safe, Draco.
Dumbledore
Draco saw the drop of moisture hit the parchment. He swallowed in disbelief. It felt as if his heart had leapt into his throat. A wave of emotions came over him.
He crumpled and tore up the parchment. He was angry for caring. He stood up ready to exit the owlery. He looked down at the shredded pieces. He swallowed, holding back a sob. He waved his wand around the pieces of parchment. They magically adhered themselves together.
He gingerly picked up the slightly tattered and crumpled paper. He gave a second look at it and neatly folded it up and placed it in his shirt pocket.
He braced himself against the sill of the open window, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He should have written sooner. Maybe he could have sent for assistance; the best magical healers could have been beckoned.
He looked into the darkness of the sky. If the magical world had a god it appeared as if Draco were searching the night sky for it.
He went to bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He placed his hand over his shirt pocket, feeling for the folded parchment. For the first time since his childhood, he had cried himself to sleep.
-----
A/N
(1) ¿Hay nuevos datos ... aprendizaje de los kangaroos? - Are there any new historical facts that you can tell me to enrich the learning of my kangaroos?
(2) Y ¿Cómo es su castellano? - And, how is your Spanish?
(3) “Bien, más o menos. Yo sé bastante para enseñar.” - "Well, more or less. I know enough to teach."