Summary: When Hermione loses her temper once again at work, the Ministry, mandates that she take some classes to relieve her stress and chagrin, her long time boyfriend Ron agrees. Unfortunately, she's in deeper than she realizes when she finds out who her teacher is...
A/N: Hi! This is a semi-silly, semi-romantic story. It disregards book 7 because...well because writing after that is just boring. So anyways, please drop me a review they make my day, and tell me what you think.
If It Doesn't Hurt, You're Doing Something Wrong
Chapter 1- Anger Management
"URRGGGGHHHH!!!!" came a piercing shriek from the front door and it slammed with a bang.
Ron barely looked up from his paper, used to such outbursts by now.
"Hi hunny, how was your day?"
He was answered with another scream of frustration. He casually flipped the page, reading about how a Quidditch player from the Harpies had just been put into the Quidditch hall of fame.
A red faced Hermione Granger stormed in and threw her briefcase onto the table where Ron sat, knocking over his cup of tea and scattering the other discarded pieces of newspaper around the kitchen.
With a casual flick of his wand Ron repaired the cup and looked up calmly at his enraged girlfriend.
"What is wrong dear?"
"Don't you use that tone with me!" she snapped and pulled out a chair to sit down huffily, once again knocking over the cup.
Ron decided to leave it where it was for the time being.
"This time they have gone too far! A couple of minor incidents and they've decided I'm a raving lunatic!" she raved.
"Who did you attack this time?" Ron sighed.
"I did not attack that last man Ronald! It is not my fault that he happened to walk past my office as I was throwing things."
"Well you did attack the man that was in your office at the time, and that you happened to be throwing things at."
She shot him a death glare that years ago would have sent him cowering, but he was now impervious to. He was used to it, and had learned some marvellous shield charms.
"I can't help it if I'm passionate about my work! You know how terribly some people treat other creatures and you would have done worse to him if you had heard what he was doing to his elves!"
She slumped in her seat and all of her anger seemed to rush out of her for a moment in tired defeat.
"Really, it's not fair what they're making me do. I stick ONE quill in somebody's ear and suddenly-"
"WHAT?!" Ron hollered, suddenly alarmed.
"O shush he's fine, which is more then he deserves. He had been dragged into my office three previous times and apparently hadn't listened to me. I figured he needed his ears cleaned out."
Ron discretely checked the room for more breakables or sharp objects as he steeled himself to tell her what he thought.
"Frankly, whatever they are making you do can't nearly be as bad as being stabbed in the ear with a quill. You could have killed him! I have put up with your anger and tantrums since we started school, but it seems to have increased ten fold ever since we graduated. Look, I love you, but something is obviously bothering you and since you haven't talked to me, it just seems to explode out of you."
After the war, in their seventh year Hermione had gone off on her own, who knows where to compose herself. Ron and Hermione were out of touch for a year. It was understandable of course, many people had died in the war, including Harry and Voldemort. Once she had come back from her escapades they had tried to start all over again. They started dating shortly after and had been for the last two years. She had come back a little hardened, and a little...different...then she had been before, nothing that he could put a finger on, but different nonetheless. He chocked it down to being from the war; after all, they had all changed.
Hermione stiffened, "So you agree with them then. If you thought I was such an irate maniac then you should have said so before asking me to move in with me! Now you're screwed, I KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP!" She stormed out of the room and slammed the bedroom door behind her.
With a sigh of acceptance Ron cleaned up the kitchen which Hurricane Hermione had disrupted and grabbed some blankets and a pillow from the cabinet to set up on the couch. He was glad that he had picked out such a comfortable couch because he seemed to spend more time on it then in their bed.
Flashback to the Incident at the Ministry
Hermione sat grumpily in a chair outside of the council room. Fuming at how long it was taking she thought back to the incident in her office. That prick McNair had been hauled into it repeatedly for cruelty against animals, unfair treatment to his house elves, and inappropriate behaviour with a thestral. The last one was just plain creepy.
Hermione had returned to Wizarding England and job opportunities had come pouring in. Not only was she hailed as the brightest witch to ever grace Hogwarts, she had also had a pivotal role in the defeat of the wizard formerly known as Lord Voldemort. She was wanted everywhere. However, when the Ministry had offered her a position as Head of a new Department that would protect and cover all animals, elves, and other magical creatures, she jumped at the chance. She knew that the elves thing was just a way of enticing her...but it worked.
The only problem was her blasted temper. Her year away had affected her badly and it left her bitter. No one knew what happened and there was no way she was talking about it. Ron and Ginny were the only ones who could genuinely make her happy, although she often freaked out on them too. Ginny, however, gave as good as she got and after being trounced by a well placed Bat Bogey hex one day the two had called a truce.
McNair was a different story. He was scum and the punishments she doled out obviously weren't good enough. Suspending his Apparition license, making him pay exuberant fees, and even getting him kicked out of the country club wasn't good enough. He deserved Azkaban, but unfortunately she wasn't able to put him there by law. So when he gave her an uninterested yet defiant look in her office, she did the next best thing: physical attack. She smiled slightly to herself at the image of him beaten with a quill in his ear. Bloody idiot hadn't even known what hit him.
She looked at her watch. The council had been debating for over an hour. Or so she thought. Little did she know the poor council members had spent 20 minutes deciding and the other 40 trying to decide which poor soul would have to tell her. After trying thumb wars, and rock paper scissors, and squabbling over the rules and unfair thumb moves they were currently drawing straws.
The unfortunate loser, Mr. Nurmi, who had bright yellow hair, gelled ridiculously to his head in mass curls burst into tears. The others patted him on the back sympathetically and pushed him unceremoniously out the front door, then booked it out the back.
Flustered and off balance, he tried to retain his dignity as he looked down at the peeved witch.
"Hello, Misses Granger, if you could just please step in here for a moment...if you don't mind...uh please...?" He lost his nerve halfway through under her withering glare. He stepped into the room quickly and sat down in a chair, hoping she wouldn't notice how hard he was shaking.
She stomped in and flopped down in the chair across from him.
"Umm...it has come to our attention...that you may be suffering under a copious amount of stress. We value your work here, however, after today's incident we are worried aboutyou..." he paused trying to catch his breath and steady his heart "not to say that we are worried about you in a sort of mental way...wait I don't mean you're mental...o bother. I just mean, McNair is threatening to sue us now that the quill has been removed and we must show that we are doing something. We have decided to enrol you in a class that we hope will help with stress. We do this sometimes for people when we see that they have trouble...coping. We find that physical exertion often helps."
Hermione was pissed to say the least, but compared to other punishments this wasn't terrible, "Like kickboxing or something?" she asked.
The weird little man gulped. Normally, that was what they would suggest, but the council had decided that teaching her how to attack people more proficiently was not a smart thing to decide.
"Well...sort of. We have decided to enrol you in a dance class at a most prestigious school. The Principle has been very agreeable and has decided to teach you himself, and honour not bestowed on many people. He will teach you the major dances such as the fox trot, waltz, salsa, and others, one of which you will perform at the end of the year with him at the regular recital. After that you will be considered to have graduated and the sentence will be over. We will owl you with the details shortly."
The man had been saying all of this to his shoes and looked up quickly to gage her reaction. She looked absolutely formidable. Her hair seemed to be emitting sparks and he was sure he would have been dead a million times over if looks could kill. She restrained herself however, from blowing up at him.
Her voice was deathly cold, "Fine. But, I sincerely hope you never get dragged into my office...sir."
She left the room and he collapsed, thanking his lucky stars, and deciding to book a vacation to anywhere...the other councillors would understand.
A/N: Soooo what did you think? Next chapter you will get introduced to her o so delectable teacher (cough Draco cough). Hermione doesn't really see it my way of course. Also, more background on the war. Hermione is a bit OC but not really, she's always been hot headed. Please review! I'll love you!