A/N: I do not own Harry Potter.
…
This was it.
This was the last time she would be seeing her for a very, very long time.
It seemed to be just like any other end of the year, except Hermione Granger knew this was nothing of the kind. She didn't need the dreariness that had overtaken the castle to remind her of this, or Harry's dark glances towards the future.
…
"Miss Granger?"
She had entered the office of her favorite professor rather quietly. Said professor looked up in confusion, face riddled with grief and tainted by a drained resilience. A resilience that Hermione knew would continue to push through the dark, uncertain future ahead of them.
Whether she could be there to witness it herself.
Hermione had paused for a split moment but continued to walk forward, never verbalizing her thoughts. She merely pushed herself to walk forward, drinking in the sight of her stubborn mentor. A mentor who seemed like a mixture of frailty and strength.
A mentor she may never see again.
"Miss Granger, whatever is the matter?"
Tears wanted to rise to the surface, but a steely determination held them at bay.
That is until shaking arms wrapped themselves around the surprised Transfigurations Mistress in a desperate hug.
And then she began to fall. Fall into the arms of a mentor, a second mom. The tears ran faster than a niffler and soon the stuttering sniffles began to sound. The sniffles became overtaken by shakes and tears turned into rivers that melted into soft emerald robes.
But she was not alone. She could fall into the support of someone. She could feel steady through sobs that wracked her body. She could grasp comfort even with the fear that had stolen her original support.
She could breathe.
And that was all that mattered.
…
A/N: For CLS. And myself.