A/N: Hey-oooo! Longest chapter yet! And un-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Please review!
-.-.-
Thursday. December 20th, 1975
Lily and Remus were making their Prefect rounds, having been smart enough to sign up for the first shift so they could spend the remaining portion of the train ride with their friends. Hermione sat next to Sirius with her nose in a Charms book, while James and Peter started listing off items they'd hoped to receive as Christmas gifts.
It was a surprisingly quiet ride for the first hour, but when Hermione closed her book, all three boys turned to her with questioning eyes.
"What?" she asked, suddenly hyper-aware of her bookworm habits and moved to straighten her hair with her fingers.
"We were just wondering," James cleared his throat, "er… when you'll be leaving for France?"
"And how long you'll be gone," Peter added.
Hermione's eyebrows cocked in suspicion. "Are you lot planning a prank in my room or something?"
Sirius' hand went to her knee in comfort, "No, really, we're just- we're worried about you."
"Worried? About what? I'll be with Dumbledore," Hermione said with confusion.
James rolled his eyes, "Not about your physical safety, 'Mione. We're worried about your…emotional wellbeing."
She tried not to be annoyed at their compassion; it was easy to see they really did want to make sure she was going to be okay seeing her parent's graves and experiencing her first Christmas without them. Offering them all a warm smile, Hermione placed her book next to her. "I leave tomorrow after lunch and I return on the 23rd. It's a short trip; I'll be back before you know it."
"Are you two joining us for holidays?" she asked, looking between Sirius and Peter.
Sirius leaned back in his seat, his arm reaching around the back. "Unfortunately, no. Petey's mum wants to see him the whole time, and my parents demand my presence for the principle of it."
"What do you mean 'the principle of it'?"
"They don't want really want to see me. It's all about putting up a front so no one knows how much of a goody-good prat I am. To my family, I'm a gold star amongst the lot of darkness that is our family tree. I'm a Gryffindor and friends with the Potter heir; I'm practically their enemy," Sirius explained.
Hermione knew all of this of course, it was exhausting keeping up the charade of naïveté that this life entailed. "So why do they want you to show up?"
"If I don't go back home, if I just go straight to the Potter's, it's just as good as saying I'm a lost cause. They still think I'll change my mind and start spouting all that blood superiority bullshit."
"Don't curse, Sirius."
"Yes, mum," Sirius said with a wink, just as Remus joined them. He was looking worse for wear considering the full moon had just past two days before, so Hermione slid over to give him room to sit.
"You look like you could use a nap, Remus," she said. "I can go find the girls if you'd like to lie down."
James perked up, "I can join you, Hermione. Give Remmy some space, ya know…"
The rings around Remus' eyes were more apparent with the look of annoyance he gave James. "I couldn't possibly put Lily through that, mate. You sit down, I'll be fine. Just…didn't sleep well last night, that's all."
Hermione nodded but mentally kicked herself for not looking into her black clutch for the Wolfsbane potion. Was it immoral to give it to him before it was technically invented? If Dumbledore found out, would she get in trouble? Would Remus even accept it without knowing what it was or who it came from? She made a note to bring it up when she saw the Headmaster tomorrow.
The compartment door slid open, "Anything from the trolley, dears?" Peter jumped out of his seat, nearly falling into Hermione's lap in the process.
"Got any licorice wands?"
-.-.-
King's Cross was busier than ever and Hermione grasped James' wrist to avoid losing him. Sirius was the first to spot the Potters and pushed through a crowd with Hermione and James close behind him.
"Mrs. P, you look as lovely as ever!" he shouted with a wide grin.
"Oh Sirius, stop that now," Dorea replied, swatting his arm in jest.
James glanced around, "Where's Dad?"
"At work, unfortunately. He's been quite busy the past few weeks, but promises he'll be home for Christmas. And hello to you too, James."
James gave a sheepish smile, "Hi Mum."
"Hermione, I see you survived the first semester! How was it? Oh, come, let's get off the platform and get home."
Sirius slapped James on the back, his grey eyes steeling for the arrival of his parents. James turned to him and nodded, a silent exchange passing between them. "Bye Mrs. P! I hope you have a lovely holiday."
Dorea placed her hand against his cheek and lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. "Don't do anything stupid, Sirius. Keep your head on, you hear me?" Sirius nodded, his shoulders straightening. "We'll see you soon, I'm sure. You behave..."
Hermione watched as they shared the serious moment. She was sure, or nearly sure, that Sirius wasn't physically harmed when he returned to Grimmauld Place, but she reminded herself of the shrieking portrait of Sirius' mother and found herself worrying.
When Dorea's hand gently tapped Sirius' face, Hermione stepped up to Sirius next, opening her mouth to offer words of encouragement.
"Sirius, I-"
His eyes moved to over Hermione's shoulders and he took a step back, his shoulders straightening even more as his chin raised.
"Mother," he greeted, his expression changing to neutral and aristocratic. Hermione couldn't stop herself from turning around and seeing the woman for herself. Her black hair had large streaks of gray, and her eyes were as dark as a storm cloud, matching her charcoal robes. Walburga's sharp nose nearly reached down and touched her sneering lips.
"Mother. You're still alive, I see."
Walburga's nostrils flared at the insult, her fists balled up at her sides and cheeks sinking into her face.
"Mother, you haven't met James' sister yet, Hermione."
Dorea stepped between the group, "That's quite enough, Sirius," she said sternly before turning to the Black matriarch. "Good evening, niece. You look," Dorea cleared her throat, "You look as regal as ever. I hope we'll be seeing Sirius during the holidays." James leaned and whispered something to Sirius, who didn't give any indication of hearing him, but Hermione couldn't take her eyes off Dorea and Walburga. "Give my regards to Orion," Mrs. Potter finished, taking Hermione's hand in hers and walking away briskly.
Hermione, grabbing James' wrist again, pulled him along until they were safely away from King's Cross. Dorea, James and Hermione made a circle near a fire escape before Disapparating.
"Take your things upstairs, darlings, Mopsy will have tea ready when you return."
Hermione finally let go of her trunk and rushed to Dorea. "Er… Mrs.- Dorea, I-"
Dorea turned, her wine colored robes whipping as she did so, and wrapped her arms around Hermione. "Please, try not to be around Walburga. Nor Orion. Please, Hermione. Say you'll obey my request."
The color drained from her face, but pressed against Dorea, she nodded and returned the embrace. "O-okay."
"Promise me, Hermione."
"I-I promise."
"Thank you." Dorea released the young girl and took her hands, grasping them firmly. "Walburga is… a nasty woman. She has no appreciation for muggleborns and would most certainly harm you. Sirius is welcome in our home, but I'm afraid…" Dorea's eyes began to water. "I'm afraid you'll never step foot in his. Do you understand?"
Hermione hugged Mrs. Potter again, willing herself to speak clearly. "Yes, Mum." When the two women released again, Dorea's tears had fallen, but this time a smile graced her face.
"Put your things away now, love. And wash up," she said, wiping her eyes with a long white finger and rushing out of the room.
-.-.-.
Friday. December 21st, 1975.
Hermione awoke early to prepare for travelling and her mission. Remembering how exhausted she always was after running off with Harry and Ron, Hermione decided to train her body more. She added a few crunches, push-ups, and lunges to her morning routine in hopes that her muscles would be more willing to carry her body through dangerous situations she knew she'd be seeing.
The staircases at Hogwarts would certainly give your calves a workout, but Hermione needed to find more cardiovascular and strength-training exercises. During her shower, she told herself she'd ask James for ideas he used during Quidditch practice that didn't involve a broom.
Finding him at the breakfast table so early was a surprise to Hermione, but she greeted him with a smile. "Morning, James." He raised his glass of pumpkin juice. "What brings you out of bed this early?"
James set his glass down with a loud clunk, "Sirius sent an owl at stupid early o'clock."
Hermione climbed into the stool next to him, "Is he...okay? The interaction between him and his mother yesterday was-"
"Perfectly usual for them, actually. He's fine, just struck with a brilliant prank for next semester."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione poured her own juice and made a mental packing list. She didn't want to unpack her black clutch and its nearly endless contents but her school trunk was so bulky for such a short trip. She turned to her brother again, "James, do you ever go on short trips with your parents? Like just a few days?"
He tossled his black hair, "Yeah, sure. We usually take some trips over the summer holidays. Why do you ask?"
"I don't think I have any small bags to take to… France. I was wondering if you might-"
"Sure thing, 'Mione. Mopsy!" Pop!
"Yes, Little Potter?"
"Hermione needs-"
"I can find it myself, James-"
"a weekend bag for her trip-"
"I'd really rather do it myself."
"with Dumbledore."
Pop!
"Do you ever do anything for yourself?"
James snorted, "No, why? Except clean my room, I have to do that. Mum says so."
Hermione scoffed as Mopsy returned with a small, blue duffle bag. "For your trip, Little Miss."
"Thank you, Mopsy," she took the carrier with a smile, "I appreciate the help."
Mopsy gave a graceful curtsy and popped away again.
The two sat in comfortable silence until she remembered her need for exercise advice from James, and she paid great attention to his explanations and warnings not to overdo them.
"Thank you. I suppose I should start packing now."
"Can I help?"
Hermione stood by the door of the kitchen and pondered the idea. "Not really help, but you can sit on the bed and keep me company," she offered.
James grinned and followed his sister upstairs. He plopped on the mint green comforter as Hermione walked into her closet. James enjoyed looking around the room, soaking in his sister's decor choices and trying to find the meaning behind them all.
The colors were calming but bright enough to bring joy. The built-in bookshelves were already nearly full, categorized neatly by genre and further organized alphabetically by the author's surname. Muggle books on the left bookcase, magical on the right, and a few with bookmarks on her bedside table. His hazel eyes landed on a large box near the balcony and he slid off the bed. Lifting the lid, he saw a muggle record.
"Find anything interesting?"
Startled, James' fingers pushed the needle across the record with a loud screech. "Bloody hell, 'Mione, don't do that." One hand went to his chest as he caught his breath while the other ruffled his hair. "I was making sure my sister had good taste in music."
Hermione's eyebrows rose in contest. "And what did you decide, then?"
He smirked and looked at the record again. "Eric...Clapton? Never heard of 'im."
"What? You've never heard of Eric Clapton? How is that possible?"
James shrugged, "If it's not on the Wireless, I don't hear it."
"That's...hogwash! Eric Clapton is one of the greatest guitarists of all time. He was born in Surrey, you know."
"No," he chuckled, "I don't know."
Hermione rolled her eyes and nudged James out of the way. She used to play records with her dad in his study, Then. He got to pick the albums but it was her job to place the needle on the right track, Then. But Now, she's got all the jobs, and she used those memories to fuel this moment with James.
There were a few small crackles before the upbeat music began, and then Eric Clapton's voice. The rain is falling through the mist of sorrow that surrounded me. The sun could never thaw away the bliss that lays around me
Hermione watched James' fingers tap on the side of his leg by the next as the chorus rang through the room. His head started bobbing as Eric lead into the second verse.
Her life was like a desert flower burning in the sun. Until I found the way to love, it's harder said than done
"Not bad," James admitted with a nod.
"Gee, thanks for the approval, Your Majesty," she replied with a smirk.
-.-.-
Hermione had stealthily placed the documents pertaining to her mission in the blue duffle bag without James noticing and the morning had gone without a hitch. Dumbledore collected her via Floo Network and, after hugs and cheek pecks from Dorea, Hermione was off to France. The Headmaster had arranged for a portkey to an old colleague's home in Nice, and they would Side-Along Apparate from there.
"When I told James we'd be going to France, it wasn't a lie. We do have some final business to take care of regarding your parent's estate," Dumbledore said.
"Why? I thought it was all taken care of in July?"
Dumbledore nodded, "Some items went to auction, while others were held to be appraised. Your lawyer made certain that you received everything the estate was worth. It appears your parents-" he cleared his throat to acknowledge the half-truth, "had expensive tastes. You seem to have quite a bit of wealth behind you now."
Hermione shook her head, "I didn't ask for that, Professor. I didn't want that."
His lips formed a line, "I know. But that doesn't change the fact now. You have the safe deposit box, a few documents to witness signatures on, and the final adoption paperwork should be delivered from the Ministry in the next week or so."
By the time the duo arrived at the alley near her lawyer's office, Hermione lost her lunch behind a skip bin, but Dumbledore offered a quick cleaning spell and they were seated before the lawyer just as Hermione's color returned to her cheeks.
Hermione exchanged pleasantries with her lawyer, Monsieur DeMunn, reintroduced him to Professor Dumbledore, and the paperwork began.
"I apologize, my English is...not quite good."
Hermione smiled, "We can discuss everything in French, if you'd prefer."
"Merci. All proceeds have been placed in a short-term estate. When you are 18 years of age, it will be relinquished to you swiftly and without any problems."
"I appreciate your professionalism, Monsieur."
He pulled a sleek, silver pen from his left breast pocket. "I pride myself in giving my clients the best, Mademoiselle La Baugh. You deserve everything your parents worked for." He slid a stapled packet of paper towards her. "These are the bank accounts that hold the different estates. As per your wishes, the house, furnishings, and land were placed in this account, while life insurance went here, and the money from selling their business was transferred to this account."
Hermione nodded as he circled bank account numbers, recognizing the Gringotts accounts and wondering how Dumbledore managed to get it from a Muggle bank to the wizarding one.
"The safe deposit box is at this bank, about eight kilometers from here. This key was found in your mother's jewelry box. Because no one knows if it contains true assets, the courts agreed to relinquish the key to you now, rather than wait until you're of legal age. There was a precedence for this, so it should have been released immediately after it was discovered and for that I apologize. The courts don't care to work as swiftly as I do."
She smiled, hoping to offer Monsieur DeMunn comfort but not knowing why. "That's fine, I haven't been in a rush to return to France since…"
The lawyer nodded, "Of course, Mademoiselle. I assume Monsieur Dumbledore is to serve as your witness?"
"Oui."
"Ah, Monsieur Dumbledore? I need you to sign," DeMunn offered the pen to the Headmaster and pointed to the proper areas. After signing it himself, Monsieur DeMunn slipped it into a folder and handed Hermione the safe deposit key.
"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur DeMunn. If there is anything else?"
He shook his head and led the strange pair out. "Please feel free to call at any time, Mademoiselle LaBaugh. I am here for any questions you may have."
-.-.-
Hermione stood in the safe deposit room in the nearby bank.
Dumbledore waited outside to give her some privacy while she opened the box, Probably people-watching since he doesn't know French Hermione mused. Surrounded by metal boxes in the silent room, Hermione felt suffocated by cold. She reached for the one assigned to her key, 108, and carried it to the table in the center of the room. The lid creaked, echoing against the walls of metal boxes and reached inside.
Hermione began stacking items to keep and discard. Gold bar… keep. Marriage certificate… discard. A bottle of bourbon from the 1940's...keep. Hermione's first loose tooth… discard. The original closing paperwork on their home… discard. A pair of pearl earrings with a card attached… "I should read the card first, then decide," she said to herself. Flowy script from a fountain pen read:
Dear Hermione,
Congratulations on graduating! We are so proud of all you've accomplished. With hard work, determination, and a straight compass, you've completed your education and will change the world.
These earrings belonged to your great- grandmother La Baugh; as you remember, your father has told many stories about her and we thought it would be fitting that these should go to you on this momentous occasion. We love you, and we're so proud of you.
Love,
Mum and Dad
Staring at the card, Hermione felt her heart twist - not in sorrow but in anger. This should hurt. This should make me cry. But I feel nothing. A parent's love is supposed to be the purest of all, yet I don't feel anything.
She shoved the card back into the envelope and placed it in her bag. She placed a few more copies of documents into the discard pile before picking up a small book.
It was no bigger than her hand but just as thick as Hogwarts: A History. Hermione turned the leather notebook over and felt the worn material with her finger tips. The lock was so badly tarnished, she couldn't release the clasp and she sat with her shoulders slumped, overcome with a feeling of defeat.
"I can believe I'm doing this," she whispered, placing her face in her hands, "How did this happen? Why did I choose this?" allowing herself to wallow in self-pity for a few minutes she pulled herself together and grabbed the last two items with a sigh.
A rubber banded stack of what looked like love letters from the first World War and a handwritten family tree. Hermione placed both in her bag and threw the rest in the appropriate bins - shred and rubbish - before exiting the bank forever.
"I hope your visit to the bank went well," Dumbledore said as they walked briskly through the warm streets of Nice.
"It was fine. There were a few sentimental items I kept, though I'm not sure why."
"It's perfectly normal to want an attachment to those you're related to."
Hermione scoffed quietly but didn't respond. It was quite warm at 10°C but wind seemed to break through her jumper and seep into her bones, made easier by the empty feeling in her chest the lovely card left behind. She didnt realize a silly little box would bother her like it had, but she was determined to brush it off. Eventually.
"When's the next Portkey?" she asked, stopping at a crosswalk that should have been familiar to her - in another life, to another Hermione.
"We'll rest tonight and leave first thing in the morning. Come," he commanded gently, "Just on the other side, Miss LaBaugh, inside the flower shop."
The door jingled and the owner nodded an acknowledgement to Dumbledore before they Disapparated without a word.
-.-.-
Saturday. December 22, 1975.
Hermione waited outside, hidden behind bushes as the Headmaster spoke to the family that would be the victims of a Death Eater raid by dusk. The snow crunched every time she repositioned herself, crouching uncomfortably beneath a windowsill so as not to be noticed. Dumbledore agreed to Hermione accompanying him, but they both agreed her presence before the family would cause confusion and doubt, so she shivered in England's brutally cold air, rubbing her arms to keep warmth in them.
He's been in there for over an hour, now Hermione thought with aggravation. They don't believe him, they won't leave her mind added, as a shock of fear erased all evidence of winter from her body.
"They have to," she whispered, wanting desperately to peek into the window and watch Dumbledore's progress.
After another half an hour, Hermione heard the familiar sound of footsteps crunching through the snow.
"The family has agreed to take a short holiday. They will leave the premises in a few moments and won't return for two days."
"Thank goodness, " she replied, sighing with relief. "My thicker jumper is in my duffle bag, I'm afraid I nearly got frostbite."
Dumbledore cast a warning charm on the still-underage witch as the familiar sound of the Floo being activated.
He motioned for them to move inside and Hermione followed, the warm air cutting the chill from her nose and cheeks. "I'll start upstairs, " Hermione said while removing her coat. If the headmaster heard her, he showed no indication.
They cleared the house, ensuring the contents appeared as though the occupants were still inside while simultaneously removing anything that the intruders could use as a weapon should they lose their wands. With the time slipping past quickly, they took their places.
Crouched in the cupboard under the sink, Hermione clutched her watch in hopes of silencing its incessant ticking. Dumbledore insisted they hide without spells or charms, reducing their magical signatures in the home should the Aurors do a full investigation. The Headmaster assured her that a trusted Auror would just happen to pass through the area at the appropriate time. Her knees were getting stiff from being bent so close to her face but she refused to move - the attack should be starting any second now.
A slow creaking disturbed the silence - a door was opening. She strained to hear more as her heartbeat climbed, thumping loudly in her ears from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Was it silent again? Had she imagined the door as Dumbledore simply moved from his hiding spot behind the curtain?
"What do you see?" someone whispered. It sounded like it was from the foyer.
"Nuttin' yet, numbskull, I ain't even in the door."
"Well 'urry up then," pushed the first man, his step sending another creak through the floorboards.
"Homenum revelio," whispered the second voice. Hermione's fingers gripped her wand tighter, her eyes squeezing shut.
Meow
Hermione's eyes flew back open - the paper didn't say anything about a pet!
"Oy, did you know they had a cat?"
"Shuddup, there's only two people 'ere. Rosier said there'd be four."
"Who cares? Get on with it."
Meow
As the men's weight shifted with each step, Hermione could hear one getting closer to her, the other should be nearing Dumbledore first. The Headmaster was adamant that he be the first to attack, but Hermione couldn't get the cat's high-pitched meows out of her head.
"Get away, you mangy li'l beast."
A foot, bulky and rough, nudged the cat hard as a strangled meow let out.
"Stupefy!" she cried, releasing herself from the cupboard and just missing the Death Eater's ear.
"Wha-" she'd caught him off guard but her spell whizzed past him and exploded against the wall. The intruder, a short, stocky man with graying blond hair sticking up from behind his mask, threw a silent gold streak that Hermione blocked.
With her protego shielding her, she chanced a look for the other intruder and caught Dumbledore unleashing on him. Her shield broke when an orange curse hit it.
"Who the 'ell are you?"
"Expelliarmus!" was all she cared to reply, but he kept a firm grip on his wand and shot violet sparks from it. Rolling across the floor, Hermione's foot caught the edge of his curse and felt like her ankle had crumbled to powder. She opened the ice box and crouched behind the door, unable to put her full weight on her foot. Another stream whizzed over, this time exploding the fine china displayed on the wall.
"Copeland! Come in 'ere and 'elp me!" he shouted, but Hermione knew Copeland was sure to go down any second. Surely Dumbledore wasn't going easy on him?
She pulled her wand across her body and jabbed it away, "Impedimenta!" The turquoise jet caught his wrist and slowed his movements. Hermione took her chance, "Petrificus totalus!" His arms locked to his sides and he fell backwards with a loud thump, his mask falling slightly askew as he landed on the hardwood floor. Hermione summoned his wand and set it on the sink a safe enough distance from him and cast ropes around his torso and ankles.
Knowing she had done all she could, Hermione crawled behind the dining table to get a view of Dumbledore and his opponent. Copeland, a younger man with a lanky body, was incapacitated and propped up in the overgrown armchair of the living room. "Professor?" she called in a forced whisper. Hermione wanted to find him, but without knowing the curse that hit her ankle, she couldn't even begin to think of a cure. Spotting the front door was open, Hermione could barely make out the sight of the silver-haired wizard speaking elegantly to a shadowy figure before the threshold.
The dark, unknown figure seemed to step away from the house and Dumbledore bowed his head before returning. "My colleague has agreed to give us thirty seconds to vacate the premises. Come, Miss LaBaugh."
"Professor, I'm- I can't. My ankle-"
"We will see Poppy immediately and stay at Hogwarts for the evening. I have much to go over tonight and you will be safe there."
Hermione nodded and took Dumbledore's outstretched hand, but he didn't pull her up. Instead, she felt her naval tug as they Disapparated.
-.-.-
Sunday. December 23rd, 1975.
Hermione awoke in the safety of the Hospital Wing. The white curtains around her cot were blinding as they reflected the morning sun. Feeling well-rested, if not a little sore, she tested her ankle and found it functional with only residual bruising. She covered it with clean socks and quickly changed, eager to return to the Potters.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" Madam Pomfrey scolded, having pulled back the privacy curtains to glare at the young witch.
"S-Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I was just-"
"I can see that, can't I? How Professor Dumbledore thought it proper to drop a student in the dead of night is beyond me. And over holiday! That man…" Hermione allowed the Matron to poke, prod, spell, and charm her body in silence, not wanting to give the nurse any reason to scold her again. "You certainly won't be running any marathons on that ankle today, but you'll do well to treat it the same as any other day. This salve should be applied tonight before bed and first thing tomorrow morning. Be sure to remember it! Or you'll be back here tomorrow, complaining of splintering pain all down your foot. Go on now, girl, before I give you a nasty message to the Headmaster." Taking the dismissal, Hermione nearly sprinted to the door as Madam Pomfrey continued to mutter about Dumbledore's late disruption the previous evening.
"Think I don't know a dark spell when I see one - tsk"
Hermione stared at the gargoyle, annoyed that it hindered her from leaving. THe sound of clicking heels distracted her and she turned to see her Head of House.
"Miss LaBaugh? I once again find you before the Headmaster's office without the password." The humor in her eyes faltered, "Shouldn't you be at home for the holidays?"
She opened her mouth to reply but no words came to her. Her brown eyes flitted to the gargoyle, praying it would spring to life and give her a means of escape. "I…" McGonagall's eyebrows rose in expectation. "I, er…"
"Yes?"
Biting her lip, Hermione went with the closest reason to the truth. "I have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore."
The Scottish witch crossed her arms, "And yet I find you before the entrance without the password."
"Minerva," called a tired voice, "Thank you for greeting Miss LaBaugh for me. It seems, in my advanced age, I have forgotten to give her the correct phrase. Come, Hermione, and I apologize for my old mind."
Once she was situated in her usual seat, Hermione thanked Dumbledore for coming to her aid. "She's going to become suspicious of all of our meetings, Professor."
"She is under the same impression Mister Potter is - we have meetings for your mental health."
"And my wrapped ankle, sir? My evening in the Hospital Wing?" The Headmaster's jaw clenched with guilt. "You should tell her."
His shame was replaced with disapproval, "I believe it too early for such a drastic reveal, Hermione."
"I trust Professor McGonagall-"
"As do I."
"You're the most powerful wizard I know, sir, but Professor McGonagall is on our side. If I'll be leaving my dorm at all hours of the night to meet you, she'll need to understand why."
His silver hair wisped when he shook his head. "What you have to understand, Hermione, is that even if Professor McGonagall believed your story, she would never approve. A war fought by children is the darkest the headmistress can imagine."
"But she doesn't know what's coming, sir. She doesn't know that children have been fighting this war."
They sat at a silent impasse, agreeing to disagree. Hermione had no intentions of crossing the precarious line between student and mentor, unwilling to lose the relationship they'd built during their mission planning.
"We should get you home," he said with finality, and she followed him to the fireplace.
-.-.-
(Published 6-8-2018)