Chapter Text
Hermione's fourth year hadn't even started, but she was already nervous. She returned from Burrow in the heat of August and now the worry would not leave her. Some of it was that she had decided to stop using the time turner and packing her schedule. She had a horrible experience last year, but she still felt like she was somehow failing by lightening her course load. No one had ever alluded to failure. In fact, the only time failure was ever hinted at was when McGonagall had given her the time-turner to accommodate her impossibly packed schedule. She had been the one to encourage Hermione to ease up, in fact. McGonagall. Just the name ran shivers down Hermione's spine. Hermione admired her professor so highly that she was embarrassed by it. Everyone knew Hermione cared a great deal about having McGonagall’s favor. But it did go farther than that--in her heart of hearts, Hermione wanted to be more than the favorite of the classroom. She wanted somehow to stand out to McGonagall, but still couldn’t quite figure out why that was. She reasoned that it was because Minerva was everything Hermione dreamed of being.
And that was why Hermione was anxious.
Everything could change. McGonagall might no longer like her now that she was no longer special, no longer used the time-turner. Or there would be some other student to devote all that time and attention to. Hermione tried to convince herself that she was being unreasonable, but that sliver of doubt grew quickly without something to prove it false. In a matter of days, Hermione w wreck. She recounted all the stupid things she had said and done the year before. She played all types of scenarios through her mind. Excuses as to why her courseload was so much lighter, or how she might broach the question of animagus training. Or even to ask to have tea like they had done on a few occasions during her 3rd Year.
Jean Granger was concerned for her daughter. She noticed that Hermione was smiling less and that meals were now a silent affair. One morning, she finally asked her daughter what was troubling her. "I'm just nervous about school," Hermione answered matter-of-factly.
Jean eyed her daughter over her steaming mug. "You've never been nervous about school, dear. In fact, you're always excited around this time, and you just can't wait for class to start." Jean replied. She sipped her coffee, then looked at Hermione sympathetically. "Please tell me what's troubling you. I may not have magic, but I'm mum and maybe I can help." Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
After a moment, Hermione exhaled, "There's this professor, mum." Jean Granger smiled lopsidedly at her daughter,
"....Annnd you're nervous that, when you come back to school, you won't have the same sort of mentor-student relationship that you had last year?" Hermione nodded emphatically.
“Well, when I was about your age, I had an English teacher, Mrs. Atkinson, who I absolutely adored. She had this horrible sardonic sense of humor and she was quite strict, but she was never cruel and gave each of her students a chance. She never let anyone fall through the cracks. Sometimes, a group of us ate lunch and drank tea in her classroom. We talked about the books we were reading, but really all manner of things. She made me feel so special, which made me crave her approval more. . I thought she was absolutely wonderful." Jean looked at her daughter and made sure she was listening before continuing.
"Of course, I was distraught when the year was over and fretted what would come of the bond we had developed over the course of the school year. When I came back to school after summer holidays, I was so nervous to set foot back in her room. Unlike you, our teachers changed every year, so it was a while until I saw her again. My maths teacher sent me to her classroom to get more chalk. She was busily grading papers, and I stepped in, absolutely bright red in the face from nervous embarrassment."
Hermione, to Jean's relief, was smirking in amusement and had laughed softly at the last bit. "Horrible, I know," Jean self-deprecatingly shook her head at her past self, "She was perfectly pleasant, of course. Soon enough, it was back to the way it had been. Our little group held together, even once having lunch with Mrs. Atkinson, her husband, and a couple of her children. It's been a long time since I've seen her, but I’ve got very fond memories and she inspired me a great deal." Jean paused with a faraway look in her eyes, but didn't finish the thought.
Jean cleared her throat and turned to her daughter. "So, this professor of yours..." Hermione blushed.
"Well, I think you about summed it up there mum." Jean nodded, and gave her a comforting pat on the hand.
"Have you considered picking up a hobby to take your mind off of it, dear?" Well, isn't learning a hobby? "And no, reading your course books is not a hobby." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Jean held up a hand, stopping her. "And yes, reading for pleasure may be a hobby, but reading textbooks for pleasure does not count. I've had this argument enough with your father, so don't try. I will win."
"What about writing?"
"Sure, poetry or journaling can be a nice hobby, but essays are not hobbies." Hermione's face scrunched in frustration and Jean realized she needed to take another approach, or face a Hermione meltdown.
"When I was your age, I used to run," Jean offered. Hermione was totally shocked out of the tirade that had begun forming in her head.
"RUN?" Hermione blurted incredulously. Her mother nodded, giving the famous Granger smirk.
"It's great to get your mind off things and improve your mood. I ran all the time when I was a teenager. Kept me out of trouble"
"But mum,” Hermione whined, “You know that I'm horrible at sport." Jean chuckled.
"Who do you think you got it from?" Hermione giggled at that--her mum was even clumsier than she was! Crisis averted, Jean thought.
"Indeed, no athletic ability required, sweetheart. Though you'll certainly gain some if you keep at it.” Jean added reassuringly. “We've got a couple weeks before you leave for school. How about we go get you some trainser today, and we can go out to that wonderful park across the street? If you don't enjoy yourself, no matter, you can come right home and we’ll try something else.” Smiling conspiratorially to her daughter, she added, “you can get wonderful muscle tone from running."
Hermione laughed and playfully swatted her mother. Hermione knew that her mum’s friends used to call her Twiggy when she was younger, and, although she had gotten over it, she was still slim and wiry and very understanding, but realistic, when Hermione complained to her that she hadn’t gotten boobs yet.
Later that afternoon. Hermione's mother dragged her outside and away from her books to purchase a new pair of trainers, a watch, and some running gear. After brief instructions on using her watch, some nervous arguing, and a lot of encouragement from her mother, Hermione left to go running a few hours later. She was faster than she had realized. Once she felt like it had been a decent amount of time, she checked her watch. It had only been five minutes. But Hermione hadn't started hating it yet, so she kept going. After 35 minutes of running, Hermione was a puddle of sweat and decided to call it quits.
"So did you enjoy yourself?" Jean Granger asked as Hermione entered the house. Hermione nodded and flopped onto the cool floor. Jean handed her a glass of water, which she took gratefully. "If you get too hot, you can take your shirt off and use it as a towel. The sports bra will cover you fine." Hermione's eyes widened with shock. "Or not,” Jean snorted. “You just look quite overheated. Remember to stretch, sweet." Hermione nodded and took another generous gulp of water before retreating to her room to sit in front of the fan.
The next morning, Hermione woke up at 6, got out the door at 6:30, and ran until she no longer felt like it. This continued until August 30th, two days before Hermione would return to school. She had run for almost an hour and a half and could not imagine life without her new hobby.
"Mum?" Hermione called up to her mother from her room. No answer. "MUM?" she shouted.
"Yes, dear?" Jean Granger walked halfway down the stairs so she wouldn't have to shout.
"DO YOU THINK I SHOULD BRING MY RUNNING CLOTHES?"
"Dear, I'm right here." Jean stepped into Hermione's line of sight.
"Sorry."
"Take them if you want, dear. We can buy another pair of trainers or some leggings to get you through the semester?" Hermione shrugged. This year, she had room to spare for more books and...running gear?
The Golden Trio (as they would come to be called), crammed into their usually compartment on the Express and launched into fast-paced conversation about the month they had spent apart. Harry was describing Dudley's new school uniform. "...and the HAT!" Harry burst out laughing. "Sweet Merlin, the hat was hilarious. It made him look like he belonged with Mary Poppins, and those bloody dancing penguins." Ron looked confused as Hermione and Harry burst out in hysterical laughter.
"Is Mary Poppins some muggle thing?" Ron asked suspiciously. Hermione nodded.
"It's a kid's movie," she answered. "It was one of my favourites when I was younger. Basically, Dudley's hat looks like a pancake with a brim." Ron chuckled at that.
"So how was your August, 'Mione?" Harry asked as the tea trolley wheeled up to the compartment. After the trio purchased enough sweets to cover their table entirely, Hermione recounted the events of her summer after leaving the Burrow.
“It was alright.” She paused and thoughtfully chewed on the end of a licorice wand. “I think, once I calmed down about what happened at the World Cup, it was good. I tried running. I like it a lot."
"RUNNING?" Ron looked at her incredulously, and she could only nod at him. "My mum suggested it to keep me from getting too stressed," Hermione began.
"Smart woman," Harry interjected.
Hermione stuck her tongue in reply. "Anyway, I found that I quite like it. Hopefully, I'll be able to do it at Hogwarts."
"Well, you could always try Quidditch, Hermione. Quidditch is stress-relief too, you know." Ron teased, knowing full well that flying was a recipe for instant Hermione Granger Stress.
"Well, I prefer to have my feet on the ground, Ron." Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry chuckled. Hermione could not help but laugh, too. They were the best friends she could ever have, even if they liked Quidditch.
"Hey!” Harry’s eyes lit up as he lifted the lid on a chocolate frog. “I got a McGonagall." Harry slid the Chocolate Frog trading card to Hermione, who looked at him quizzically. "I've already got one, and, erm, she's your favorite teacher." Hermione inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that Harry didn't know about her near-fanatical obsession with her professor. Hermione took the card and slid it into one of the inner pockets of her bag.
"Eh, I got a Helga Hufflepuff," Ron grunted and tore open a second frog. Hermione took another bite of her licorice wand and took out her tattered paperback of Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Darcy had just handed Elizabeth his letter, and Hermione was absolutely dying to know what it said. "Hermione, is that a muggle novel?"
"Uh, yeah, why?"
"I dunno, usually, you'd be reading a textbook or something. Or a giant pamphlet on some transfiguration theory." Ron spit the words out like a pepper flavored Bertie Bott.
"Ron's got a point actually. Why the novel, Granger?" Harry teased but smiled to show Hermione that he was only joking.
"I've already read through most of my textbooks for the year, and, muggle or not, Jane Austen is a fantastic writer." Hermione shrugged.
"I'm actually glad you're reading a novel Hermione," Harry encouraged. "I'm happy that you're reading something you really enjoy…” Hermione glared at him “...that’s not just required reading?” Hermione kept glaring. “Well, whatever, hopefully, this year will be better. Less stressful and such." Hermione nodded. She shared the hope of her friends that things would be alright.