A/N: I know that McGonagall's animagus has spectacle-like markings around its/her eyes, however, I'm working under the assumption that if she transformed while not wearing her glasses (since it's never been mentioned precisely how they transfer to fur markings) she might not have the markings. And would probably be a short-sighted cat. I made the change because otherwise it'd be a bit too easy for Hermione to recognise her, amirite? ^^

Chapter Two
Taking Care

-/-

It was the day before most of the Hogwarts students were due to leave for Christmas break. The number of students had already dramatically reduced from early leavers, and Hermione was sitting at the back of the Great Hall, mixing now-cold porridge around in its bowl. There had been no classes for the last few days, no homework, no study, and nothing for her to use to distract herself from all the negative things that seemed to be happening to her. With her head leaning in a hand, she barely noticed the clacking of heels approaching her or the tall shadow that now fell over her. She was too busy just being depressed to notice the tall, stern looking woman behind her.

Headmistress McGonagall cleared her throat and Hermione jumped in her seat, looking up with surprise, "Oh, hello, Professor," she said sullenly.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. How are you today?"

"I'm fine, thank you." The older woman did not seem convinced.

"Miss Granger, would you accompany me to the transfiguration classroom, as you don't seem to be eating?"

The young brunette just nodded, pushing her untouched breakfast away before standing.

The two of them walked in silence, relatively unnoticed by the general population of the school. Minerva looked the exact same as she had seven years ago, and maybe even twenty years ago; her hair was in its tight bun, up out of her stern, dignified face, her emerald robe hung loosely around her tall, thin frame and she held herself proudly as always. Hermione easily looked many years older than she should. Her own hair was an unkempt brown mess of curls, she was pale and grim looking, and her jeans and robes seemed sizes too big, though they were the very same ones that had been snug two years ago.

When they arrived at their destination, the headmistress let them in and locked the door with a flick of her wand. Not knowing what to do with herself, the younger woman walked slowly towards the front of the room idly until her teacher strode past and indicated for her to sit at the front desk.

"Professor, if this is about my last essay," Hermione said, already beginning to stress, "I worked very hard on it, but I couldn't find enough references to-" she was cut off by the other.

"Please, Hermione, I don't wish to talk to you as your professor, or your headmistress," Minerva's voice was much softer than expected, and sitting across from Hermione, she placed a warm hand over the other's. "I want to talk to you as a friend. You've been through so much, and I've seen you handle at least two devastating disasters every year you've attended Hogwarts. I always respected and admired you for being able to hold your own and handle even the most difficult situations, but there is always a line." She paused to let the eighteen year old soak in what she was saying. "There is only so much one person can handle by themselves, and I'm very afraid that you have, or are getting close to that point when everything gets too much. Do you agree?"

Hermione nodded mutely, tears stinging the edges of her eyes. She had tried so hard to deal with everything, but now that all the excitement was over she had to face the problems that had hidden themselves behind running from and fighting with death eaters. There wasn't even Harry to talk to. Just the tabby cat.

"Hermione, your friends are very concerned about you. I am concerned about you. It's become painfully obvious that you aren't coping."

"But I am," Hermione said louder than anticipated, "I'm coping fine. My grades are the best, see?"

Minerva's eyes glistened with compassion and she squeezed the girl's hands with her own. "No, Hermione, you've thrown yourself into your work so much that nothing else seems to matter. That isn't coping. Ginny Weasley tells me you haven't spoken more than two words to either her or Luna in a month, and that she thinks it's because of Ronald." Hermione sobbed loudly and the professor moved closer and placed a hand on the girl's back, rubbing circles. "You haven't been eating, I don't think you've even left the castle. You have to take care of yourself, and that means letting other people in, too."

There was a long moment where she didn't speak, but Hermione leaned into her and wrapped her arms around the older woman's waist while she cried on her shoulder. Minerva was patient, and waited until the girl seemed prepared to sit up again. When chocolate eyes met her green pair, she had to resist the urge not to lick the tear tracks away like she had weeks before.

"Hermione, I'd like for you to start eating your meals with me. Dinner, at least, in my quarters. I'd like for you to talk to me and tell me what is on your mind, or if you like, you can just talk about your day, or what books you've been reading and whatever music you listen to. Will you do that, Hermione?"

Wiping her eyes dry, Hermione nodded and straightened her white blouse which had become crinkled while embracing her teacher.

Satisfied, Minerva smiled gently and pushed a few strands of wayward hair from Hermione's face and thanked her softly. She had an important staff meeting to attend to about the resident centaurs, but she was reluctant to leave. Already she had missed many conferences, functions and dinners because of nights that she hadn't wanted to leave the Head Girl alone in her room.

After a couple more minutes, they both stood to leave and Minerva gave the girl a light hug before reopening the doors and heading towards her meeting. Once she finished, she knew that she could find the girl in the library as usual and she could sit beside Hermione on the table and lick her paws.