Chapter 1: The Beginnings

A crack filled the air and Hermione Granger walked purposefully through the atrium of the Ministry. She was wearing a pale blouse, a black pencil skirt and black stilettos, which she had patched together with magic on more than one occasion. In one hand she carried a cup of coffee, and the other her wand. Alongside her, a demure and slightly shabby handbag floated obediently at her hip, only occasionally bumping into her when she changed direction too quickly. It was 8am on a Friday morning and there were only a handful of other employees walking about.

Two janitors jumped out of the way as Hermione marched past. She gave them a curt "Good Morning" as she did so, but didn't wait around for any idle chit-chat, heading straight for the lifts instead. She took the first one up to floor five and resumed her march along a long corridor.

She pushed open the door to where her team worked and made her way through the slightly cramped room over to her desk. With a sigh, she put down her coffee and her wand before picking up the collapsed stack of parchment that had spread across from her neighbour Mullins desk, tidying them, and placing them where they should have been to begin with.

Hermione sat down in her chair, ignoring its painful squeaking, kicked off her shoes unceremoniously and got down to work. By the time the rest of her team had arrived, Hermione was on her third coffee and fourth task.

Around 11 that morning a boy who Hermione knew was at least two years her junior, both in age and experience, hurried up to her, slapping a case file down on her desk. "I hope you don't mind Hermione, but I need a case review done by two this afternoon, and it requires the best!" With a smarmy smile and without waiting for a response the boy disappeared again. Hermione's lips pursed, and she felt a throbbing beginning in her left temple. Whilst she felt tempted not to do the work, she also knew that she didn't have too much of a choice. She dropped what she had been working on and got down to the task, conscious of the passing time.

At precisely five minutes to 2 that afternoon having worked straight through lunch, Hermione dropped the case review back to its original owner, and without any thanks proffered from the boy, left again to finish her own work.

At five minutes to six that evening, just when Hermione was intending to head home for the weekend, two memos landed on her desk. With barely contained frustration, she picked up the first one. It contained a long task from her boss that needed to be delivered Monday lunch time and would definitely require weekend working. She picked up the second memo scowling and opened it.

…

Dear Miss Granger,

We regret to inform you of the recent passing of Professor Minerva McGonagall which occurred in the early hours of this morning.

We would like to invite you to attend the Professors funeral which will take place on the following Wednesday at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

We hope you will be able to join us in remembering Professor McGonagall.

Yours sincerely,

Hogwarts' Staff

…

Hermione felt her breath come in a rush and a hand went to her chest in shock. She could feel her increased heartrate, but still couldn't quite believe what it was that she was reading. She read the memo again, and then one more time for good measure before she threw her belongings in her handbag, stuffed the memo in after them and hurried out of her office.

She headed straight for the lift and went directly up to the Aurors' offices. She hurried down the corridor, her shoes clacking angrily, until she turned the corner. She moved through the messy desks until she spotted Ron's mop of bright red hair.

She headed around the last bank of cubicles and found Harry and Ron, both clutching similar pieces of parchments to the one that she had received. Hermione found that she didn't need to say anything as she slumped down at a vacant desk chair next to the boys.

"Do you think everyone got these?" Ron asked in a strained voice.

"No." Hermione replied softly. "Probably just the Order. Maybe Gryffindors."

Silence descended again as they all digested the news. This was the first death they had been affronted with since the war. Hermione could feel all the complex emotions that she had struggled with for so long threatening to overwhelm her again.

Eventually Harry lifted his head and said the only word required. "Pub?"

…

Early on in their careers at the ministry, the trio had discovered a fairly quiet wizard pub through a colleague of Harry and Ron's. It was slightly seedy in nature, similar to the Hog's Head, but it did good chips and saved them from being recognised and spoken to by every passer-by in the Leaky Cauldron. They often visited after work on Fridays and had become known to the bar staff.

This particular Friday they sought the sanctuary and general anonymity of the pub. Ron hailed in three Firewhiskys and they sat in a glum huddle in a gloomy corner seat. Eventually Harry raised his glass. "McGonagall." He said, not yet ready to voice any of his feelings in the form of a speech.

"McGonagall." Ron and Hermione chorused quietly. They drank their drinks down in one and Hermione went up to fetch some more.

They were halfway through a pint of butterbeer when the door to the pub flew open and Ginny appeared in a rush, still decked in full quidditch uniform. She hurried over to the group and sat down.

"I take it you've heard?" She asked, breathless. The trio nodded glumly, and Ginny let out a small sigh. "I was half hoping it was some sort of vile prank when I got the owl. I flooed George before I came, he said he'll join when he closes up shop in an hour."

"I should probably try and contact Percy." Ron said. Percy didn't commonly join them in the pub, it wasn't quite his scene, but he could be persuaded to come on occasion.

"I tried his office, but he wasn't there." Ginny said. "He's probably gone to Mum and Dads."

Percy had taken a renewed stance on family after the war, particularly in the light of Fred's death, and spent most of his weekends in the Weasley family home helping out and he often had lunch with Molly Weasley in the week – taking her to as many well to-do locations as he could.

The group continued to drink in a slightly strangled silence until George joined them. With one look at the downtrodden group, George ordered another round and sat down.

"Awful news." He commented as way of a greeting.

Hermione pulled out the slightly crumpled memo from her bag and smoothed it down on the table in front of her. She read it through again quickly and sighed.

"What do you think happened?" Hermione asked.

"Old age?" Ron suggested. "She wasn't young when we started at Hogwarts."

"She took more than a few hits during Voldemort's reign." Harry added. "Remember when she defended Hagrid from Umbridge?"

"I almost thought she had had it then." George commented.

Ginny nodded in agreement. "She went through a lot in those years. A lot of stress too."

"Still, I never thought I'd see the day." Ron added with a smile.

"McGonagall was a fighter." Harry said, deep pride and respect filled his voice, and his jaw had taken on a set look of defiance.

The conversation continued, discussing McGonagall and regaling each other with anecdotes from their strict Head of House and Transfiguration teacher. Eventually talk turned to the funeral.

"It'll be odd to go back to Hogwarts." Hermione said. "I haven't been back since the war." Ron and George nodded in agreement.

"I finished my final year there." Ginny said. "With McGonagall as Headmistress."

"I visited Dumbledore's grave once." Harry said shortly. Hermione and Ron glanced at each other in slight surprise, they hadn't known Harry had been back and Hermione wondered why he had never mentioned it.

"I wonder who will become Head now." George said. "I wouldn't want to follow in Dumbledore and McGonagall's footsteps. That's a hard job, that is."

…

The hours went by and the drinks went quicker. At half midnight, George and Hermione were staggering down the road, arm in arm, behind the distant figures of Ron, Harry and Ginny. Harry and Ginny had their arms around each other, and Hermione sniggered to George.

"Ron's looking like a bit of a third-wheel." She said, words slurring together slightly.

George got the gist of what she said and laughed loud and delighted. "As ever."

"Shhhhh." Hermione laughed. "Don't tell him."

They continued to wind their slow way down the road. Hermione watched Ron with mirth in her eyes. Hermione and Ron had barely gotten together after Hogwarts before they broke up again. Their fleeting relationship had been sweet, and their parting had been mutual. Both had found the aftermath of the war more difficult than they had anticipated and neither liked the strain it put on their relationship. They had agreed that friends were more important at that time.

That had been five years ago, and neither had felt any romantic connection since. Lately, however, Hermione had begun to notice George's sidelong glances at her and she suspected that he had only held himself back from asking her out in respect for his brother.

Hermione didn't quite know how she felt about George. They had gotten much closer following Fred's death, as the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione had all banded together to mourn his passing. Hermione and George had regular dinners together, Hermione being a willing and sympathetic ear for George's grief. She had always kept it at a strict friendship level, however, more concerned with George's emotional wellbeing than anything else. Suspecting that he liked her, Hermione felt increasingly conflicted, not wanting to complicate or lose the strong emotional friendship that they had built up.

They continued staggering down the street, and at one point, Ginny burst into a rendition of the Hogwarts' school song, shouting the lyrics loudly until they all joined in.

Eventually, and with much detouring, they made it down to the block of flats that they all lived in. George had previously been living above the shop with Fred but, finding himself alone, had moved in with Ron, much to their mother's pleasure. Two floors above them, Harry, Ginny and Hermione shared a two-bedroom flat. Most of the time Hermione didn't mind living with the couple, as both Harry and Ginny kept such odd working hours they weren't often home at the same time. Some evenings though, Hermione were go down to visit Ron and George to give them some alone-time. She suspected that all of them could afford to live in their own places but none of them were quite ready to live alone just yet.

They climbed the stairs slowly, stopping at the third floor to say goodbye to Ron and George. George gave Hermione a fierce hug and kissed her on the cheek. She felt a blush spread across her face and turned away from the others quickly. The remaining three of them continued up to the fifth floor, Harry and Ginny firmly glued to each other's sides.

"Night Hermione." Ginny said as she walked backwards into her bedroom, eyes locked on Harry's, pulling him along by the hand.

"Night guys." Hermione said, not sure if either of them heard, or cared what she said. With a sigh, she headed into her own dark room and crawled into bed exhausted. She didn't forget to cast a quick silencing charm aimed at the adjoining wall before she went to sleep, though.