Minerva ate her meal without truly tasting it.

All around her, conversation flowed easily and it seemed that despite the overwhelming load of paperwork that would be gracing everyone's desks by the end of the week, her colleagues were content to enjoy the moment.

While her sharp gaze continually surveyed the Great Hall like clockwork, Minerva found herself unable to resist passing over the first few seats of the Gryffindor table carefully. As her eyes alighted upon the elegant figure sitting near the front of the table, she noticed that Miss Granger was speaking quietly to two young first-years who were staring directly back at Minerva with matching expressions of awe.

Just as she was about to narrow her eyes in suspicion, Filius' light tones cut through her thoughts.

"You should go speak with her, Minerva."

"Pardon?"

"Miss Granger. You should speak with her."

Filius was staring at her with an open and accepting gaze, his blue eyes conveying a hint of sympathy. Internally, Minerva chided herself at being so transparent and she took a moment to sit back and dab her lips lightly with a napkin.

"I am certain that Miss Granger will come to me should she need to discuss her unique situation," she replied diplomatically, lifting her chin as she raked her eyes over the Slytherin side of the room.

"That's not what I mean, my dear. You seem… preoccupied. Whatever your shared history, I am sure both of you would benefit from a long discussion," Filius answered, brows slightly furrowed in concern as he gazed over toward Gryffindor. Minerva's eyes followed. The witch was still leaning forward and speaking with the two young girls who appeared to be hanging on her every word with rapt expressions.

"How do you mean?" Minerva asked carefully.

"Minerva, you've hardly touched your meal." Filius gestured toward her plate which was indeed quite full. She felt her lips thin, but before she could think of an appropriate reply, her friend leaned forward.

"Meanwhile, neither has Miss Granger. She's been distracting herself from looking up here by speaking with that group of first-years. Don't think I missed how you two haven't yet acknowledged each other." His blue eyes twinkled slightly as he sat back, turning his gaze out over the hall.

"Speak with her, my dear. I have a feeling you both need the reminder before you can rekindle your unique relationship," he said airily before turning to the other side, "Pomona dear, would you be so kind as to pass the Brussels sprouts?"

Turning back to her meal, which at once seemed unappetizing, Minerva fought not to flush at Filius' words.

What an odd comment.

Had it been anyone but Filius, Minerva would have been hard-pressed not to hex them for such cheek.

Just what did he mean by that?

She considered demanding an explanation, but realized that it would only underscore his point.

Sighing instead, she waved a hand to vanish her plate and looked out amongst the rows of tables.

While there had been a number of students who had caught her eye over the years, none of them had ever held a candle to the witch she was now steadfastly ignoring over in the left corner of her vision.

The Weasley twins had been two of her secret favorites… over at Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, she could already see the shady transactions of the school's newest jokesters, who were also rising on her list of students-to-watch.

There was Miss David of Ravenclaw who showed remarkable prowess in Defense for being a fourth-year, Mr. Creevey of Gryffindor, who despite his brother's death had grown into a lovely lad himself… Miss Everard and Rawlins of Hufflepuff who were never seen apart… Mr. Railaha of Slytherin who was quickly modeling himself after Professor Malfoy…

Many bright minds and faces.

All unique and charming in their own individual ways.

But then there had been Miss Granger.

Hermione.

Minerva had never allowed the witch to be anything but "Miss Granger" except within the privacy of her own mind.

No, this witch had been far different.

Minerva had kept an eye on the Trio throughout their first several years, but as they grew older… suddenly she had begun to see them as individuals. Young adults faced with terrors far beyond their scope and yet, they had conducted themselves with such self-assuredness and dignity…

The Trio had effortlessly planted themselves into the hearts of many, yes. Minerva included.

But unlike the general Wizarding population of Great Britain, she saw them as distinct people.

Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger.

The boys had quickly grown into brave, intelligent, and honorable young men.

And the witch…

Minerva allowed herself a reprieve and turned her gaze to finally stare at the witch in question directly.

Miss Granger was sitting sideways on the bench, speaking in quiet tones to a young wizard to her immediate left who appeared somewhat distraught.

Long hands rested on small shoulders and Minerva watched in fascination as blood red lips appeared to deliver words of wisdom as the boy nodded along, still somewhat tearful. A smile graced those full lips and the boy responded with a tentative one of his own before laughing suddenly and wiping his eyes as the rest of the group chipped in with encouragement of their own.

Miss Granger smiled at them appreciatively, her amber eyes betraying her approval as dessert appeared and the children jumped forward with gusto. The witch snapped her fingers lightly and the group subsided slightly, returning to their chosen delicacies with a bit more restraint and matching mollified expressions. Minerva sniffed quietly in amusement.

A lioness with her cubs… she thought with a light burst of surprise.

Hermione Granger had changed significantly. That much was obvious.

A niggle of worry shot through her chest and Minerva sat back, content to let her gaze roam again even as her thoughts remained troubled.

Would they ever regain what had been lost?

Hermione waited calmly, schooling her features into those of a respectful listener as Headmistress McGonagall rose at the High Table and the Great Hall began to quiet. The first-years around her mirrored her example and she hid a smile.

Carefully, Hermione allowed herself the opportunity to subtly trace the features of her former mentor… at once taking in the tall and slender frame, tastefully swathed in customary robes of luminous emerald. Long sleeves dripped off elegant arms, and Hermione's eyes took in the graceful hands that skimmed the top of the table as the witch waited for complete silence.

The barest hint of a smile graced darkened lips and as Hermione watched, the butterflies in her stomach reasserted themselves with a vengeance. Time has indeed been kind to this witch.

"I do hope you have enjoyed your meal. Before I dismiss everyone for a good night's rest, I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

The familiar Scottish brogue felt like a balm to her ears and Hermione felt herself lean forward slightly.

"First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is expressly forbidden to all pupils unless accompanied by a faculty member as part of your courses. It is called the Forbidden Forest for a reason; if it were allowed, it would be called the Permitted Forest," the piercing gaze zeroed in on an area over by Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, "A few upperclassmen would do to remember this note as well."

There were a few titters and Hermione surmised there must have been a new group of pranksters on the rise. She sniffed lightly.

"Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors, and that all products by Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes are banned from school grounds." Hermione smirked at that even as a number of others at her table chuckled quietly to themselves. It seemed that George's new partner was continuing the twins' legacy with aplomb.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch for further information."

Again, Hermione smirked as the grey-haired witch in question tipped a lazy salute that the Headmistress pointedly ignored. While she had never been close to the flying instructor, Hermione had learned to appreciate the witch's swift tongue during the summer following the War. She had also borne witness to several spats with the illustrious Headmistress which proved the two witches were nearly evenly matched in their acerbic wit.

"We are also pleased to welcome two members of our staff into the ranks of tenured faculty. Many of you know Professor Talfryn Hawtrey, who will continue serving his post within the Transfiguration curriculum. Hestia Jones will also be continuing her position within Defense Against the Dark Arts. Both of these distinguished professors have made significant contributions to their respective disciplines - I encourage you to remain open-minded and absorb as much from them as possible."

There was a round of enthusiastic applause as the witch and wizard in question waved cheerfully. Hermione smiled as she recognized Hestia… and made a note to investigate the other professor she didn't recognize. Hawtrey… the name was familiar. Distantly, Hermione thought she recalled the name from a spring edition of Transfiguration Today.

"I also mention the return of two of our noted Apprentices; I expect that you will continue to treat Professors Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy with the deference and respect befitting of any of our faculty members, as they themselves continue to inspire us with their advances in Herbology and Potions."

Hermione's gaze alighted on Draco Malfoy who, while retaining a bit of the haughty air she remembered from school, appeared to be gazing at the Headmistress in an expression of genuine appreciation. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Interesting.

Ginny had already encouraged her to befriend her once-nemesis… however, until she learned a bit more about the man, Hermione decided to remain cautious. Undoubtedly, they would be interacting more often as they now shared the same discipline. I've learned a thing or two about serpents... she thought quietly.

Realizing that her focus had slid off slightly, Hermione looked up and found that the Headmistress had paused in her speech. The candlelight gleamed and framed the woman's high cheekbones and ivory skin in a halo of gold. Somehow it made aristocratic features appear softer.

"It is my great hope that this next year of studies will bloom with magic befitting of your presence here. There is much to discover and much to learn and I implore you all to treat the opportunity with the respect it deserves."

The witch paused and Hermione tensed slightly as sharp emerald eyes fluttered in her direction without actually meeting her gaze.

"It is also my hope… that you will seek assistance along the way should you need it. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Unexpectedly, the familiar phrase echoed through Hermione's memories and she felt her heart clench at all it continued to represent. You need to speak with her…

The moment passed and the Headmistress looked across the room with a rare smile that made her features seem more luminous and enchanting. Behind her, Hermione heard Emmalie and Luz sigh.

"I bid you a good evening."

The Hall erupted in a loud round of applause before the chatter began to resume. Benches scraped against the stone floor and there was an enormous rustling of fabric as everyone stood and prefects began calling out for their first-years.

"Hermione, are you coming?"

Turning, Hermione smiled down at Sam Watanabe, the young boy who had quietly confided his insecurity at being sorted into Gryffindor. He smiled up at her with just a hint of shyness as the rest of her cubs looked on curiously. Her cubs? Where had that thought come from?

"Follow the prefects, Sam. I have a few things to attend to before curfew," she replied warmly, already feeling a flutter of anticipation in her stomach.

He gave her a lopsided smile before scampering off, and Hermione straightened, ignoring the curious glances that she was receiving from a number of others as they filed out of the room.

Looking up toward the High Table, she saw that the Headmistress had disappeared. Damn.

Scanning the room quickly, Hermione frowned… and then froze as Professor Flitwick pinned her with a meaningful gaze and gave an emphatic point toward the back doors that the professors typically used. Ah.

Giving him a gracious nod, she quickly set off.

Some things would not do to wait.

Minerva ascended the staircase slowly, deep in thought even as she bid the sconces on the wall to remain dimly lit.

Shrouded in shadow, she listened as the students made their way toward the Common Rooms… infusing the castle with life in a familiar way that warmed her heart.

Sighing, she reached the top of a staircase and looked down… small figures in black robes dashed to and fro, laughing even as she heard a stern voice call out a reprimand. Good. At least one of her prefects was off to a good start.

A number of the portraits watched the excitement from above alongside her… muttering comments amongst themselves, and despite her heavy thoughts, Minerva allowed a slight smile to grace her features as she watched the unfolding chaos quietly.

"The first night back was always my favorite too," a light voice remarked quietly.

Turning in surprise, Minerva bit back a harsh retort at realizing just who stood off to her left, one arm folded delicately over the stone railing as timeless features gazed down toward the lower floors, her lovely face lit from below.

"Miss Granger," she managed. "It is a pleasure to see you gracing the halls once more."

She was proud for having phrased her words evenly, despite the whirling of emotions and questions that suddenly tumbled through her mind. Why did you leave without telling me? Where have you been? Why come back? Why now?

The witch straightened, her luminous features folding inward slightly even as she continued to watch the last of the stragglers hurry up the staircases. Minerva suddenly realized that the bright and open features from the young witch she remembered had been replaced with a much more guarded and mysterious woman. Where did you go?

A moment later, Minerva stiffened as the witch moved closer… a hair short of invading her personal space, though she didn't miss how the young woman had yet to meet her eyes. The amber gaze hovered somewhere between her chin and beyond her right ear, and unlike confrontations with other students… Minerva found herself feeling a bit bereft by the lack of eye contact.

"Please… may we talk?"

It took a moment for the quiet plea to register before Minerva nodded.

"Certainly. Let us adjourn to my office," she replied evenly, even as her stomach fluttered lightly with anticipation.

They moved in sync… boots echoing similarly on stone floors as they ascended another staircase and glided down darkened halls.

To her relief and simultaneous dismay, they did not speak.

Miss Granger held herself back by half a step, remaining close to Minerva but just off her right shoulder ensuring that her expression remained inscrutable. Bizarrely, Minerva was reminded of her years as an Apprentice and having followed Mistress Trenowyth with the same sort of deliberate deference.

Arriving to the Gargoyle, Minerva paused for Miss Granger's benefit and stated the password clearly.

"Amat victoria curam."

They settled upon the stone steps and Minerva fought to keep her focus straight ahead as they began moving upwards. She heard Miss Granger shift a step below, but decided against saying anything until they arrived. This was not a meeting to fulfill her requests.

As soon as they stepped into her familiar quarters, Minerva waved a hand and lit the candles before pointing her wand at the fire and muttering a quick Incendio. The flames leapt from the hearth and she took a moment to unpin her hat and send it flying back toward the stand in one corner.

The light had awoken a few of the portraits who rubbed their eyes sleepily… a few already glancing off her left shoulder, curious at the arrival of a new visitor.

"Would you care for tea?" Minerva asked lightly, unbuttoning her robes slightly and allowing the outer layer to remain open for comfort. Internally, she steeled herself for what was doubtless to be a strange and awkward conversation. This is not about you.

At the lack of response, Minerva turned with a frown and saw Miss Granger standing before the fire, bathed in its rich glow, eyes downcast and staring into the flames absently. She appeared not to have heard.

"Miss Granger?"

The slightly louder query seemed to rouse the witch from her musings and Minerva waited.

Arms, which had been crossed over the young woman's chest, slowly unfurled as she turned over one shoulder gracefully… her lithe figure a dark silhouette against the bright flames. Minerva's brows drew together slightly as she absorbed the abruptly insecure witch before her - at contrast with the bright, confident woman who had made such a grand entrance into the Great Hall just a short while ago.

Her breath stopped a moment later as wide amber eyes suddenly bore into Minerva's own. Eyes that revealed a tempest of pent-up emotions and sheen of guilt so earnest that she nearly stepped back.

"I'm sorry…" The breathy plea resonated in her chest and Minerva stood spellbound, unable to reply as those luminous eyes grew bright with unshed tears.

"Please… Minerva, I am so sorry," the witch repeated, her voice thick, even as she startled Minerva with her use of her given name. Before she could reply, Miss Granger was walking toward her, beautiful features crumpling even as two bright streaks of silver made their way down her cheeks.

"Forgive me? Please, gods… forgive me!"

And then… Minerva was abruptly rocking back as Miss Granger's slender form quickly moulded itself to her own, strong arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close as the witch sobbed into the front of her robes. Automatically, she enveloped the young woman even as tears sprang to her own eyes and a lump appeared in her throat. But… what?

Soft braids pressed into her neck and her nose was greeted by the sweet and luscious blend of argan, pomegranate, and another form of sweetness that Minerva couldn't quite name.

"P-please forgive me! I c-couldn't tell you… I w-waanted to… d-didn't want - to - disappoint... Gods, s-so selfish! I'm - s-so sorry, M-min-erva…" The wrenching words were muffled slightly and interspersed with sobs as the witch continued to cry, clutching Minerva like a lifeline as if fearing her retribution.

"Shhh, darling…" Long fingers stroked the smooth sheen of hair, rubbing the witch's back as she would have comforted a child. The sobs only seemed to increase and Minerva felt slender fingers gripping the front of her robes.

"Oh, Hermione…" she breathed with a smile. "You could never disappoint me…"

Hoping it wouldn't be misinterpreted, Minerva pressed a kiss to the top of the witch's head, cursing herself even as a few tears spilled over her own cheeks.

They stood like that for an undetermined amount of time. Miss Granger continued to murmur quiet apologies even as Minerva continued stroking her hair, holding her close, murmuring her own reassurances. The fire crackled in the background and time seemed to hold still as both witches took comfort in the other.

Eventually, the torrent of emotion subsided and Minerva felt a shift…

Long arms pulled her even closer for a brief moment as the witch pressed her cheek against Minerva's chest with a small sigh.

Then, at once, she was gone and Minerva let her arms fall, feeling uncharacteristically off-balance as Miss Granger took a step back. They smiled at each other uncertainly before Minerva managed to recover first.

"Tea?"

The lovely, tear-kissed face before her split into a genuine smile and the witch nodded shyly to Minerva's secret delight.

It was a start.