Chapter 2
September 1997
Anxiously, Hermione casts the well-known spell and slides onto the cot to sleep. She has just given the cursed locket to Harry. Ron is sulking on the other side of the tent, the sound of the radio droning its endless list of victims as he listens for names of family and friends.
They invaded the Ministry nearly two weeks ago to retrieve the locket Dolores Umbridge wore. Although the corrupt Head of Magical Law Enforcement might not have known what was hanging around her neck, the locket is actually a Horcrux storing a piece of Voldemort's black soul. And now, as they keep it within their possession while trying to find a way to destroy it, its evil properties are leaching out, staining the soul of whoever wears it with its toxic energy.
With her last thoughts while conscious, Hermione pictures Minerva's manor, needing to feel the comfort it provides. This is where they meet nearly every time they enter their mutual dreamscape. For one meeting Hermione had visualized her home, but remembering how she altered her parents' memories so that they would not remember her before she sent them to live in Australia tainted what had always been her safe haven. She would not visit her former home again—in her dreamscape or in person.
Their last visit occurred just before the start of the new school year. Minerva's concern over her students overshadowed any of Hermione's worries. The Ministry appointed Severus Snape as Headmaster as well as added Amycus Carrow as the Dark Arts professor and Alecto Carrow as the Muggle Studies professor. All three are known to be Death Eaters, and Snape's presence at Hogwarts is particularly distressing to Minerva since he killed Dumbledore. Regardless of her rage, Minerva refuses to leave the students unprotected, choosing to grimly remain at her post as Deputy Headmistress.
"What have you done?!" Minerva greets Hermione harshly. Hermione would be worried if she could not plainly identify the distress mingled with anger in sharp emerald eyes.
"I don't know what you mean," Hermione hedges as she stops in front of Minerva.
"Don't play coy with me, Hermione! I cannot believe you and the boys infiltrated the Ministry of Magic. What could have possibly prompted you to take such a risk?" Minerva demands, her hands landing heavily on Hermione's shoulders.
"You know I cannot answer you, but it could not be avoided," Hermione says in a calm voice, although it pains her to know that Minerva is upset because of something she has done.
"Are you saying you could not have retrieved whatever person or item you sought after hours outside the Ministry? Outside of such a public place, a place teeming with Voldemort's followers? So impetuous! So utterly foolish!" Minerva raves as she moves away and begins to pace in front of the lounge.
"No. We could not. I am sorry if our actions worried you. Please, Minerva," Hermione says as she steps into Minerva's path, stopping her midstride. "How are you?" she asks softly.
"How am I? I am worried sick about you. Have you any idea what the Ministry will do to you if you are caught?" Minerva asks as she rubs the back of her neck.
"Actually, Harry saw a file of me at the Ministry where they have categorized me as a very high risk. I am being tracked. He said there were no files of him or Ron, but Harry is already branded as Undesirable No. 1, so it's not like he is any better off than I am," Hermione says.
"Hermione, it is worse now that you were identified as breaking into the Ministry. They are quite embarrassed by what happened, and they will not rest until they find you," Minerva states vehemently.
"How is that any different than two weeks ago?" Hermione retorts.
"Because they have issued a warrant for your arrest under the pretense of truancy for failure to attend Hogwarts while you are under the age of majority. If they catch you, they can send you to Azkaban," Minerva nearly shouts.
Freezing as her eyes widen in surprise, Hermione can hardly understand the implications of such an act. "Wh-what? Truancy? How...how can they do that? Isn't the age of majority seventeen? Isn't it up to the school to report truancy?"
"Yes, in the wizarding community it is seventeen, but in the Muggle world and in your case in England, the age of majority is eighteen. As for being reported," Minerva grimaces, "some of Hogwarts' faculty are adhering to an agenda set by those currently controlling the Ministry."
"Oh my God," Hermione says hollowly as she sits gingerly in a chair. "But I am turning eighteen this month," Hermione says as she looks up, hope in her voice.
"They are basing the charges on your failure to report to school when term began," Minerva says. A heavy silence settles between them before Minerva's sorrow-laden voice breaks it several minutes later. "There's more, I am afraid. The Ministry has attempted to contact your parents since they are also responsible for any delinquent acts you commit. Of course, they cannot find them. They are insinuating that something has happened to them, and that their disappearance is due to your nefarious actions."
"That's, that's absurd!" Hermione sputters, flabbergasted. "I would never hurt them!"
"I know." Minerva kneels before Hermione and takes her hand. "And then there are the ramifications of the criminal charges for truancy. You are automatically expelled from Hogwarts, effectively negating all the hard work you have devoted to your studies over the years."
Hermione's eyes fill with tears, and she cries at the unfairness of the charges and the evilness of Voldemort's followers. Only Minerva's arms holding her tightly help her to shore up her wavering determination to never abandon their quest to destroy the Horcruxes and to defeat Voldemort. Although it seems that her world is crashing down around her, Hermione knows that Minerva cares about her. And that helps her to shore up her flagging spirits, too.
"I...I am sorry for falling apart," Hermione sniffles as she pulls back, suddenly quite embarrassed for succumbing to such weakness. She ducks her head as she angrily swipes at her wet eyes. Strong, long fingers underneath her chin lift her face, and although she wants to close her eyes and avoid Minerva's penetrating and no doubt pitying look, Hermione takes a deep breath and meets green eyes with her own.
"Pish posh. I will hear none of that. You are on the run, facing incredible odds, away from your family and those who...those who love you," Minerva says in a voice so tender that tears spring once more to Hermione's eyes. "And now you have just found out from someone you trust that one of the most defining aspects of your life has been taken away from you," Minerva says, compassion shining from her moist eyes. "You have given up so much, and you are so young. I hate that this has happened, that I can do nothing to help you!"
Hermione places her hand over the one now cupping her cheek. "Minerva, I made this decision, and I must deal with the consequences. This is not your responsibility. I could be eighty instead of eighteen, and it would not change my course. And as for having to leave everyone," Hermione removes Minerva's hand from her face and kisses the palm before squeezing it gently, "I have you."
"Yes," Minerva says in a near whisper, a slight smile on her face, " you have me."
"And you have me," Hermione says just as softly. "I know you have decided to shield me from the events occurring at Hogwarts, but it is not necessary. I want to be here for you, just as you are for me. Please trust me."
"I do, my dear. I do."
Searching those suddenly expressive emerald eyes, Hermione wonders when the walls came down. She could never read emotion in the normally stalwart witch's eyes before, yet now they clearly reflect worry, sorrow, and fondness. Smiling, Hermione nods. She believes Minerva.
"Come over to the sofa with me," Minerva prompts, pulling Hermione up from her chair with their clasped hands, moaning softly as her other hand moves to her lower back. "Just wait until you are my age," she mutters irritably. They settle on the comfortable leather sofa.
"I can only hope to age as gracefully as you have," Hermione says. At Minerva's derisive chuckle, Hermione continues. "No, I mean it. You are beautiful. Inside and out. I realize that in your role you must create distance between yourself and the students, and they misconstrue that necessity, sometimes in hurtful ways. That's why I am so honored that you trust me, that you have opened up to me. I hope you know that I trust you, too."
"Thank you, Hermione. I do."
They sit back shoulder to shoulder and gaze at the crackling fire silently, hands still clasped firmly. Hermione is happy to not talk. She knows that once she wakes, she will return to worrying about so much—the boys, destroying the Horcrux in their possession, food, shelter, remaining hidden from all those looking for them, finding more of the Horcruxes. The list is endless and daunting.
"When is your birthday?" Minerva's distinctive lilt breaks the silence.
"On the nineteenth. I expect we will not bother to celebrate it, of course. Ron, he got splinched during our escape last week, and we have been struggling to find food and medicine. It's not like we can just enter a place to get what we need." Hermione trails off, realizing she sounds like she feels sorry for herself. And perhaps she does.
"Let me help you," Minerva pleads.
"You know I cannot. I won't place you in such danger. No doubt, your actions are being monitored, and if you leave food somewhere, they will investigate. Thank Merlin they cannot track these visits," Hermione replies.
"I will give this some thought. I am sure a way exists," Minerva states, determination ringing throughout the room.
Darkness seems to extend out from the stone walls, reaching for them with its shadowy fingers. Hermione feels exhaustion flow through her, but she fights it, not willing to leave Minerva just yet. She feels movement beside her and turns her head to look at her companion.
An elegant hand cups her cheek as soothing words caress her ears. "We will celebrate your birthday when we are reunited outside of this dreamscape, for I am sure you have noticed that our senses are severely limited here. Until that day, and that day will come, allow me to wish you a happy birthday. I want you to know how immensely glad I am that you are a part of my world."
Before Hermione can react, thin lips brush gently across Hermione's parted ones. She gasps at the contact, her eyes fluttering closed. All she can concentrate on are the slight pressure of Minerva's mouth against hers and the warm thumb rubbing soothingly across her cheekbone.
When she awakens several hours later, Hermione realizes that she is smiling. Those few precious moments felt so wonderfully real, and she can hardly wait to experience Minerva's lips touching hers in person when her senses will relay the taste of Minerva's breath and her alluring scent in exquisite detail.
And in the meantime she will relive their shared dream kiss to soothe her anxieties and encourage her to not give up.
