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Minerva hummed her way up the spiral staircase in Gryffindor Tower, still smiling to herself at the stunned expressions of the students she'd left behind and bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet; she'd had a very good day. And, to top off her day, she'd just received a from the Minister of Magic, Kingsley, and the Animagus Registry office, which allowed her to offer the Head Girl the chance to become an animagus herself – under her own guidance. She was almost positive that Hermione would jump at the chance, and excel here as she had in many other areas of study and in particular transfiguration; and Minerva wasn't exactly unhappy about the prospect of teaching the young genius.

Bounding up the stairs with the excitement and enthusiasm of a person much younger than herself, Minerva's humming stopped as she reached the portrait, with a grin stretched over her face.

"Evening, Godric." She smiled, inclining her head. "I have good news! Ébène et émeraude."

"Minerva, I…I'm not sure now's a good time." Godric answered carefully.

"Oh, nonsense. Once she hears what I've got to say, she'll put down whatever she's doing." The witch said confidently, smiling widely again. "Come on, Godric, I've given the password. You can't stop me!"

The portrait sighed and bowed his curly-haired head, swinging forward to admit her. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He muttered, but Minerva barely heard; for as soon as the seal between portrait and the wall was broken, a haunting tune met her ears. It was phoenix song, of that she was convinced – and she looked around with a smile, expecting to see her Head Girl lying on her bed, a DC player (or whatever these muggles called them) on her bedside table.

It took her a moment or two to register that the unearthly, beautiful sounds came from the piano she'd asked a small army of house-elves to place in the Head Girl's room two nights before, while she slept. Of course, by this time, its player – encased in a halo of light from the window at her back – had realised her presence. The last notes, which had cut off abruptly, faded into the silence of the room.

Minerva shifted from foot to foot in the doorway, trying to erase the image of the beautiful young woman before her, who looked beautiful and seemed to be illuminated by a spotlight from the window behind, which cast her features into shadow but surrounded her like a halo. Minerva couldn't forget the way she moved with the music she played – the passion that poured from her. She couldn't find a single thing to say– and neither, it seemed, could her student.

Then:

"Get out."

A low and dangerous voice spoke, lingering in the air. Minerva opened her mouth, closed it again, and let her eyes lock with Hermione's –scanning her expression, her hurt look.

"Miss-Hermione, I'm – I'm sorry, I –"

"Get out."

Her student stood up, and Minerva didn't think about what would happen next. The words broke something within her, and she turned on her heel and left, already planning to skip dinner.

"I tried." Godric called apologetically, but Minerva didn't respond; she marched angrily down the hallways and corridors, no longer smiling or humming, and the first years who had smiled at her moments before now cowered away from her swiftly marching figure.

Back in her room, Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, head in hands. How could she have been so rude? She had given her mentor her password, after all…

She knew I didn't want anyone to hear me playing. She reasoned, and rubbed at her eyes. She spread her fingers across her legs, tracing their length and each crease with her eyes, hearing the music they made echo through her mind…oh, how she'd missed the piano.

A long and silent while later, the calm left in the wake of the venerable Minerva McGonagall was disturbed by a loud grumbling. Checking her watch, Hermione saw it was hours past dinner.

"Winky?" She asked tentatively. A crack announced the arrival of a small and dishevelled female elf clutching a bottle and sporting a large nose like a squashed tomato. "Hi." She smiled at the elf, who hiccupped back, eyes popping as she did a double-take.

"Y-you was visiting me in the kitchens. You was a very rude girl." The elf squeaked.

"I have grown up a lot since then, Winky. I wanted to apologise, and ask if you'd do me a favour." The Head Girl said earnestly. Winky's ears flapped as she nodded enthusiastically, reminding Hermione painfully of Dobby.

"Winky will always serve however she can."

"Could I have my dinner up here tonight, if there's anything left? I lost track of time and missed the feast."

Winky didn't respond; she vanished with a crack, but was almost immediately replaced with a steaming plate of a lovely meal – some kind of curry. Hermione smiled – it was very different to the normal Hogwarts food (potatoes, meats, vegetables and gravy), but a welcome change. She dug in hungrily, after carrying her meal to her desk, and then laid the plate aside, reaching for a new piece of parchment and a quill. Over her silent hours, doing nothing except examining and saving or discarding thoughts and emotions now and over the past year, she'd been struck by some inspiration.

The next morning her inspiration hadn't faded, and having skipped breakfast, Hermione had taken a seat away from the front of her Transfiguration class. She hadn't felt up to facing a rather thin-lipped Minerva McGonagall, and she couldn't continue her piece near the front; she needed some privacy. With deft flicks and stabs of her quill, Hermione was writing music.

Minerva watched as Hermione completed the practical task in three attempts – of course, she knew the spell already – and settled down to write her essay. The Professor rubbed her grainy-feeling eyes and sat behind her desk on the hard wooden chair, ready to start marking some third-year work. She felt awful, and she didn't know how to make it right; the girl was obviously avoiding her, even at mealtimes. She'd ignored her greeting in the corridor that morning and had moved further from her in lessons. What could she do to fix this?

The end of the lesson came all too soon for both witches, each absorbed in their own thoughts – one musical and one guilt-filled. The bell saw Hermione packing her things without taking her eyes off a page of music, and she continued to read it as she walked to Minerva's desk and placed her essay on it. As the last other student left and the door banged closed, she glanced up and froze.

Turning to look at her Professor, she blushed, but made no move to speak. As the silence stretched on, she made to move for the door, but then Minerva found her voice.

"Hermione, I – I'm so sorry. I should have thought…I just had something to discuss with you. I didn't think that you'd be…I don't know. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me my intrusion?"

Hermione blinked. "I-I…yes. Fine." She turned again to leave, knowing that she had a lesson next and not wanting to lose her train of thought – this section was giving her some trouble.

"Have dinner with me?" Minerva blurted.

'What?' Hermione, wondering if she'd feel dizzy any time soon from the continuous spinning, turned again to face the desk. "What?" She blurted, echoing her thoughts. It was Minerva's turn to blush, but she did not withdraw the invite.

"Half past six, meet you here?" She asked, a little more sedately than the initial offer.

Hermione swallowed. "Oh-kay…" she dragged the word out, and then nodded. "Thank you." She added, and swung her bag over her shoulder. "I should get to Arithmancy." She smiled weakly and walked out, mind turning rapidly.

Minerva slumped behind her desk, head in hands.


Hope you enjoyed. Once more, please review for more; I have an outline for this now, but it isn't written yet.

Thank you so much to Imagen99 - awesome beta, who is really helping me to improve my writing. Much love!