Author's Note: I caught a couple of typographical errors when rereading my previous chapter. If you, dear readers, capture a typo, please inform me so that I might release it into the wild far away from my story. I will not be offended.

Hermione squared her shoulders and requested entry from the painting covering the entrance to Professor McGonagall's office. After a moment it swung open, allowing her entry. She made her way through the brief foyer, nudging open the door which the professor had left cracked for her as was her custom.

The professor saw the movement. "Do come in, Miss Granger. Madam Hooch and I are just finishing discussing our hopes for tomorrow's match."

Hermione smiled. "Harry says that he is pleased with the way the team has been performing during practice. They do not underestimate Hufflepuff, though. Ginny and the other Chasers have been working on some maneuvers and Harry has been working with the Beaters a bit extra."

Hooch beamed at Hermione. "That is lovely to hear. Twenty points to Gryffindor." She clapped Hermione on the back and exited the room with a flourish of black robes, leaving the student gazing fixedly at some distant point, head cocked slightly, with a confused look on her face. She blinked.

"Professor? What was that about?"

McGonagall looked at her solemnly from behind her desk. "Obviously, Madam Hooch appreciates your grasp of the inter-house tournament and its intricacies."

Hermione looked at her skeptically. McGonagall conceded the tiniest of smiles, marginally contracting the muscle just above her left jaw. "I suspect that she was actually complementing your topiary work in the courtyard. Have a seat and a biscuit."

Hermione blushed for what felt like the hundreth time that day and took a ginger newt from the proffered tartan tin. "I did not expect to suddenly become some heroic figure."

"Do you regret your actions?"

Hermione looked up at her professor who was eyeing her worriedly. "Professor, I told you earlier – no regrets. I was and am willing to accept the consequences of my actions. I merely...did not expect applause, points, and ginger newts to be the consequences. It is a wee bit embarrassing."

"A wee bit? You sound as though you have been associating with a vast array of Scots."

"Oh, well, there is this one fascinating woman I am around all of the time. She is enough alone to have the linguistic influence of a Highland Regiment, though; no need for an array." Hermione smiled at her professor.

McGonagall, for her part, blushed a slight pink before coughing and replying. "Yes, well. Quite." She paused. "So, it seems that you have learnt to cast spells wordlessly, Miss Granger."

Hermione cast the professor a sideways glance. "I may have been reading ahead a bit and having a go with summoning my quill silently. I had not really tried it without my wand, though. As I said, my actions in the courtyard were entirely unintentional."

McGonagall stood, came round her desk, and leaned against it directly in front of Hermione, who looked at a bookshelf full of tomes on Transfiguration and Quidditch off to the right.

"My dear Miss Granger, I see no need to discuss the courtyard incident further while we are in here. You know my opinion of your actions and you are embarrassed to discuss it. So, let us focus on your newly demonstrated abilities and see if we cannot transfigure something useful of them." For the second time that day, she gently nudged Hermione's chin upward, forcing eye contact. "Are we agreed?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "Yes, Professor, we are."

"Very well. Let us begin with turning this needle into a matchstick and then reversing the transfiguration, silently." The professor placed the needle on the desk in front of Hermione and moved out of her line of sight, watching her student intently.

Hermione eyed the needle and twitched her wand. It turned into a matchstick. She looked over at her professor.

"Well done, Miss Granger." Hermione was relieved. All vestiges of irritation with her had seemed to vanish from her professor's eyes. McGonagall, for her part, had actually only been able to bring herself to be as irritated as she absolutely had to be in the first place, and had long forgotten that she had actually deducted house points from the woman.

Hermione looked at the matchstick and twitched her wand once more. It turned back into a needle. McGonagall actually smiled at that. Hermione turned a bit pink under her teacher's gaze and wondered why the professor did not smile more often as it looked so good on her. She considered for a moment whether she had actually seen McGonagall smile before, at her or at anyone else.

Hermione was brought out of her reverie by Professor McGonagall waving a hand at her. "Miss Granger? Are you with me?"

Hermione coughed. "Uh, yes. Sorry, Professor."

"Are you quite well?"

"I am; I was just thinking about something."

McGonagall smiled at her again. Hermione very nearly melted into a puddle. The professor gently grasped her student's wand and pulled it out of her hand, setting it on the desk. Hermione blinked at her.

"Miss Granger, would you care to share? You need to concentrate if you are going to do wandless transfiguration."

Hermione blushed. "Sorry, Professor. I was just thinking of whether or not I had seen you smile like that before."

Now it was the professor's turn to blush. "And have you?"

"No, I do not believe so. It is a shame, really."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "And why is that, Miss Granger?"

"You look really pretty when you smile. I mean...it is not as though you are not pretty the rest of the time or anything..." she trailed off, staring at the bookshelf once more as though a Crumple-Horned Snorkack had materialised on a shelf.

McGonagall turned quite red. "Well, thank you Miss Granger. No one has said such a thing to me in quite some time."

That brought Hermione back with a start. "What? Why not?"

The professor tilted her head and looked out of Hermione out of one eye. "Who, my dear, is present at this institution that you believe should be informing me of such?"

Hermione was speechless for a moment. "Uh...that is not what I meant. I mean, I do not want to pry into your personal affairs or anything. I just felt that someone out of the general population would have noticed."

"That is kind of you to say, Miss Granger, but I fear that you are overoptimistic." McGonagall turned and looked out of her office window, gazing down at the Quidditch pitch, arms folded.

Hermione hesitated for a moment before standing and quietly moving over behind the professor. She took the woman's left hand from her right shoulder and pulled gently, turning so they were facing each other. "Professor. I apologise. I did not think it would be such a rare occurance as to hurt you by mentioning it."

McGonagall looked away, out of the window, gazing at some point in the distance. In a move reminiscent of that morning in the Headmaster's office, Hermione gently placed two fingers on McGonagall's left jaw and gently pulled her chin around so their eyes met. "For what little it is worth, Professor, I think that you are beautiful on a variety of levels. I will make an effort to inform you of such more often, with your permission." She leaned forward and kissed her professor on the cheek. "Now, shall I have a go with this needle?"

Three quarters of an hour later, Hermione had soundlessly transfigured the needle into a matchstick, a teacup into a a dinner plate, and as a finale, a stone into a woolen scarf in Professor McGonagall's clan colours. The professor had positively beamed at the last and hung the scarf on her coatrack next to her travelling cloak. Hermione was a bit spent from the effort and the pair had retired to the professor's private quarters for tea and sandwiches. They were discussing the merits of a study recently published by a team of American wizards working under a well-known Transfiguration Master when the knock came at the door.

Professor McGonagall furrowed her brow as she stood. "Would Mr Weasley or Mr Potter be looking for you?"

"No, Professor. I do not think so."

McGonagall nodded and opened the door, revealing Professor Dumbledore and Madam Hooch. They swept in; Dumbledore cast a silencing spell on the door to prevent eavesdropping and turned to look at the two women he had just interrupted. Madam Hooch paced the floor, wand drawn. McGonagall eyed them both.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with the pair of you? You both look as though You-Know-Who appeared in your bath."

Dumbledore chuckled. "It is not as bad as all that – for me at any rate." He nodded to Hermione. "I am glad to see that you are here, Miss Granger. That makes things much easier for everyone."

Hermione frowned at Dumbledore and then at Madam Hooch, whose furious pace of her pacing was already threatening to wear a groove in the floor of McGonagall's sitting room. McGonagall looked at both of them for a moment, then at Hermione, who looked befuddled. At last, she lost her patience for the Headmaster's dramatic silence.

"Out with it then, Albus!"

Dumbledore coughed and swallowed the bite of Ginger Newt to which he had helped himself. "It seems, my dear Minerva, my dear Miss Granger, that I underestimated the level of corruption at the Ministry. It seems that the Messieurs Malfoy have filed a complaint against the two of you and that Aurors will be coming at midnight to take you both into custody."

McGonagall gasped. Hermione stood, furious. "She did nothing. They may take me if they insist, but the Professor did nothing. They may not take her. I will...I will hex them first!" Her voice was quiet, but her tone brooked no argument.

Madam Hooch ceased her pacing long enough to eye Hermione and exclaim, "Fifty points to Gryffindor!"

McGonagall, for her part, stepped over to Hermione and put her hand on her shoulder. "It shan't come to that. I expect that Professor Dumbledore is here for a reason other than to tell us to enjoy our last sandwiches as free women. Correct, Professor?"

"Indeed, my dear Minerva. With the help of Alastor Moody – who is the kind soul who informed us of your impending arrests – Madam Hooch and I have devised an escape plan; I hope the two of you will find it acceptable."

"Albus, I expect that any plan which does not end with Miss Granger and me in Azkaban is acceptable."

Hermione, wide-eyed, nodded her agreement and waited for the headmaster to continue.

"You will have to go by broom as they are monitoring the Floo network and all apparition in the region. Miss Granger, fear not," he said at the look on her face. "Professor McGonagall is quite accomplished at flying. Miss Granger, you will be in charge of keeping up a Disillusionment Charm in case the Ministry does suspect you are on the move. It is quite lucky that you were born early in the school year, is it not?"

Hermione nodded weakly, unimpressed with the broom plan. Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, my dear. I am going to leave the room with Miss Granger for a moment while you and Madam Hooch cast a Fidelius Charm regarding the location of your manor. Miss Granger will, of course, find out soon enough, but I feel it would be best for her to not know where you are going in the event the two of you are captured. We will be gathering her effects and shall return in ten minutes' time." With that, he swept from the room with Hermione in tow.

He walked quickly; Hermione had to trot to catch him up and lengthen her stride to match his pace as they headed to Gryffindor Tower. "Professor, what should I say to Harry and Ron?"

"Nothing, my dear. I will be shrinking the things you choose to take with you – which shall not be much, I am afraid, as it must appear as though you have not actually left but are in the castle somewhere – and when we return to Professor McGonagall's office you shall write your friends a pleasant note informing them that you are safe."

Hermione eyed him skeptically. He chuckled. "No need to worry, my dear. You will assuredly be telling them the truth."

"With all due respect, Headmaster, you told me not to worry once already today."

Dumbledore laughed aloud. "So I did, my dear Miss Granger. I hope that Professor McGonagall has given you more reason to trust in her that I have for you to trust me."

Hermione considered that for a moment. "Good point, Headmaster."

"I do make them occasionally."

Upon their return, Dumbledore cast McGonagall and Hooch a look, then nodded. "Indeed. I have not the faintest idea where the manor is. How disconcerting."

Hermione dropped her bag on the floor as she sat down to write Ron and Harry and looked at the three of them. She knew how Fidelius Chams worked, being one of the people with the knowledge of the location of 12 Grimmauld Place, but it had not occurred to her what would happen if one knew something before being shut out with a Fidelius. She must have sat there for a moment with an odd look on her face because suddenly her two professors and the flying instructor were looking at her with concern. She blinked and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Are you quite well, Miss Granger?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I am, Professor. I was just thinking about what it must be like to suddenly not know something."

"Twenty points to Gryffindor!" shouted Madam Hooch, who was standing very near to Hermione's right. Hermione flinched hard to the left, nearly knocking down Professor McGonagall, who caught her and peered at Hooch.

"Rolanda. That is really quite enough. Even women of such character as Miss Granger have a limit on their nerves, and I do believe she has reached hers."

Hooch had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry. I got carried away."

McGonagall nodded. "Are we ready to be off, then?" She looked at Hermione, who shrugged her assent.

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Very well, then." He opened the sitting room window and cool night air flowed in. "Accio Minerva's broom!"

The four of them stood in the ensuing silence, waiting for the broom to make its journey from the shed near the Quidditch pitch.

"Ah, that reminds me," said McGonagall. "Accio tartan scarf!"

The broom and the scarf arrived through the window at roughly the same moment. McGonagall tied the scarf Hermione had transfigured earlier tightly round her neck and tucked the ends into the collar of her robes; she then took the broom Dumbledore was offering to her. Hermione quickly finished her note to Ron and Harry and handed it to Dumbledore. She nervously regarded her professor and the broom before summoning her last ounce of Gryffindor courage and throwing her leg over the room. McGonagall mounted behind her.

"Miss Granger, please hold onto the broomstick." The professor reached around Hermione's waist and took hold of the broom just behind Hermione's hands. "Please forgive my intrusion into your personal space."

"Only if you will forgive mine as well, Professor."

McGonagall nodded. "The Disillusionment Charm then, Miss Granger."

Hermione tapped McGonagall, the broom, and finally herself with her wand. She felt the familiar feeling as though there were egg whites running down her body, looked down, and saw nothing.

"Safe journey, my dears," said Dumbledore. "We will take care of everything from here."

"Fly well, Minerva," said Hooch; then, shifting her eyes back and forth, she said, very quietly, "Forty points to Gryffindor for such a lovely Disillusionment."

Hermione giggled for a moment and then felt McGonagall's arms tighten around her as they kicked off. She tried very hard to not twitch too much as they gained altitude over the grounds. Hermione hoped very much that she would see them again as she settled back against her professor. Once over the Forbidden Forest, she spoke.

"Professor, I again apologise for the inconvenience I am causing you. However, I do have to say that if I had to go into hiding with a professor, I am glad that it is you."

McGonagall smiled to herself and turned the broom toward the west.