The following day McGonagall allowed Hermione to sleep. When she finally awoke, the night seemed to be a distant memory. The curtains had been pulled back to reveal a grey, frosty morning and a tray of breakfast was left at the end of the bed. She devoured it with surprising gusto before dressing in a comfortable, warm outfit. The past month of steady meals had almost returned Hermione's weight to normal so her clothes didn't hang so loose. Looking at her reflection she was still pale and had dark rings around her eyes, but her cheek bones weren't so prevalent. It was an improvement, though she still had far to go.

Carrying the tray of dishes downstairs she found Minerva sitting opposite the fireplace, the green image of a dark featured face flickering in the flames. The man's voice had a strange accent that Hermione couldn't place, but he sounded important. She hurried through to the kitchen so as not to intrude on their conversation. Zena took the dishes and told Hermione that her Minny had been in conference with foreign ministry officials for hours. While waiting for McGonagall, the house elf happily reminisced about the trouble her mistress got into as a child due to her unmatchable transfigurative abilities. Hermione's favourite tale was about the time Minerva was six and a muggle girl wouldn't play with her so she turned the girl's jump-rope into a snake.

McGonagall came into the room just in time to correct Zena that it wasn't a poisonous snake- just a spotted python. She was glad to see that Hermione was enjoying herself. Sitting at the table opposite Hermione, she accepted a cup of tea and shared her own favourite story- about the time she ran away from home at eight because she thought she was in love with a muggle boy named Harold. When their mugs were empty Minerva looked up at the wall clock.

"Hermione, it slipped my mind, but I've arranged for us to have lunch with my friend, Godfrey McLachlan."

The smile Hermione had been wearing faded for a moment before she forced it back on. She was enjoying spending time with Minerva and Zena and didn't want it to end. She was also reluctant to share her professor, but not wanting to come across as juvenile and self-indulgent, she agreed feebly.

"I'm sure you'll like him, dear, he's an old friend and a lovely fellow. He looks after Zena while I'm away."

Quarter of an hour later the two women bade farewell to Zena and locked arms to side-apparate. There was the usual pop and nauseating sensation of being sucked down a drain. A moment later Hermione's feet slammed into the ground and she fell forward onto a lawn of soft, warm green grass. Her teacher helped her to her feet and she looked around in wonder. They were in a garden of bright colours and pleasant aromas. Everything was green and lush and it looked as though winter had bypassed this part of the world.

"Godfrey is a herbology enthusiast," Minerva explained. She smiled lovingly at the expression of awe.

"It's beautiful."

"His gardens are always in bloom; they're his pride and joy."

They followed a path of stepping stones around a fence of grape vines to where a cottage-type house sat. It was squat and comfortable looking with red awnings and a red door. They stepped up onto the veranda and Hermione admired a wind chime with a dancing glass unicorn on the top while McGonagall knocked on the door. Only moments passed before it was opened by a tall, thin man. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that it was the same man who was in the photo in the room of banners. He was obviously much older, but his hair was still vibrantly red and messy, though shorter, and his eyes still had the same shape and gleam. When he saw Minerva he beamed.

"Well if it isn't the two brightest witches of their age," he said in an even thicker Scottish accent than McGonagall's.

"Hello Godfrey," the older witch replied with a smile.

"Min, it's wonderful to see you so soon, and this must be Hermione." He shook her hand in a painful grip. "Come in, ladies. Leave your shoes on, take your coats off and have a glass of wine with me."

They took their jackets off (it was plenty warm enough inside) and followed him into the small house. Hermione looked around with interest. She loved seeing wizarding homes- they all seemed to have a different type of magic. Grimauld place was hidden from view, McGonagall Manor had its changing rooms, even the Burrow had a ghoul in its attic and was self-cleaning. The inside of this place seemed less magical than its garden, although the window in the office which they passed overlooked a beach which was nowhere near here and Hermione saw a feather duster and broom cleaning on their own.

The older witch and wizard talked as they walked and Hermione trailed behind, listening half-heartedly but completely aware of the way his hand sat low on Minerva's waist. They were discussing the Manor and a room which had gone missing. When they reached the dining room at the end of a hall of mirrors with fog on the insides (Godfrey told Hermione that he used them to communicate with people from the Scottish Council where he worked) they sat at a small round table which floated without legs.

"Klaus," called the wizard and at the name a house elf appeared with a pop. The creature was slightly smaller than other elves Hermione had seen and his eyes seemed even larger than usual. He was dressed in material that looked like it had come from curtains and hand-stitched into overalls. "Fetch the lunch and some wine." The house elf bowed low enough for his nose to bend on the ground then walked quickly out the door.

"Do most wizarding families have house elves?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Those of us from influential families," the host replied with a nod in McGonagall's direction.

"Hermione is a defender of elven rights," Minerva said fondly.

"What for? They enjoy serving more evolved species. It's why they're here."

The young witch looked disapproving. "That's the same argument used to pardon slave owners. Besides, by all accounts elves are magically much more powerful than any normal human."

"You're young," Godfrey excused, "you'll understand how things work when you're older."

Hermione struggled not to argue. She was a guest and didn't want to be impolite, even though she thought she had been through more in the past two years than this man had dealt with his whole life. Klaus, the house elf returned carrying plates in his hands with a platter of sandwiches, a bottle of wine and glasses floating obediently behind him. He set the things on the table and bowed again. Godfrey dismissed him with a wave.

"Godfrey, when will you find out whether the British Ministry will comply with your request for independence?" Minerva asked before anyone brought up house elves again.

For a while Hermione simply listened to the conversation. It turned back to her and school and she explained the essay she was writing about magical appropriation in the English colonies. Then she was asked what she planned to do when the year finished and whether she intended to join the Ministry as Harry and Ron were (as aurors). She said she didn't know and suddenly the conversation became about the two boys. Where were they? Did they have any trouble joining the auror academy without their NEWTs? How long until they'd be back in action? Hermione answered the questions the best she could with the information she'd received through written correspondence with Harry. The boys were staying at Grimauld Place, no, they didn't have any trouble since the Minister of Magic vouched for their abilities (not to mention the entire wizarding world already knew that they'd defeated the dark lord numerous times), at the rate they were going they'd graduate in a year and a bit.

"You should become an auror too, Hermione," Godfrey said, "being in school must be so boring after all the excitement." When she took a deep drink of her wine but didn't answer, he went on. "A year away from school with your friends running around, fighting death eaters, you must've had the time of your life."

"Actually, Hermione's going to take some time off after she graduates to go to Australia," interrupted McGonagall, seeing how uncomfortable the other witch was.

When Hermione raised her glass to her lips again her hand trembled. Her heart was racing from the memory of running, trying to keep up with Harry. They were surrounded and she had no choice but to turn her wand on her friend. Her lungs struggled to breathe as her throat closed up. Instinctively she reached for her wand.

"Are you alright, dear?" Minerva placed a hand on Hermione's.

"Please excuse me," she managed to say, her breath returning long enough to give a weak smile. Without waiting for a reply she stood and hurried through the door, turning into the hall. The mirrors reflected her pale, panicked face and she drew her wand. Pointing it at each mirror, she leaned close to try and see if anyone was staring back. Her own pallid visage with manic eyes and wild hair made her lurch back. It didn't look like her at all; it looked like Bellatrix. Fear paralysed her and she held her breath, waiting for the dead witch to reveal herself. She wouldn't be caught off guard this time.

"Hermione?"

She reeled around and without thought raised her wand. An amber light shot from its tip, but with equally fast reflexes McGonagall cast a barrier and the spell rebounded, smashing one of the eerie mirrors. Hermione immediately looked fearful.

"I'm sorry," she choked out before rushing around the corner. Behind her she heard Godfrey ask what had happened, but fled out the front door before hearing the reply. On the veranda she paused. She didn't know where to go. As a student she wasn't able to apparate to Hogwarts, her parents were in Australia and she couldn't just turn up at the Burrow the day before Christmas. McGonagall Manor was the only place she could go at the moment and she didn't know whether she would be welcome. Confused and upset, she crumpled on the steps and sat there, her breaths coming in short and ragged. She couldn't see straight and her limbs tingled from lack of oxygen. Her thoughts were racing with the idea that she was going to die, that she would never be free of this pain, that she would be cast out into the streets. Amongst the rabble in her head was the smallest voice, but it repeated its phrase over and over, "I am not alone. Minerva won't abandon me." Hermione latched onto the mantra and repeated it in her head and the other thoughts began to lose their strength. She forced herself to breathe deeply and imagined what it was like to held by her friend. Her body ceased its buzzing and her eyesight returned to normal. She was going to be okay.

The door behind her opened and Minerva stepped outside, sitting beside the girl on the stairs.

"You scared me, Hermione." She put an arm around the girl's shoulders and Hermione leaned into her, resting her head on her teacher's shoulder. Her face was wet with tears, but she was in control again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cast that spell. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Oh darling, not that. When you left. I thought you'd run away."

"You aren't mad?"

"I'm concerned. I think we need to get you help in case you curse someone else, but I'm not angry at you at all." She was stern, but her voice was still soft. "You're hurting. I know what it's like to hurt, and know you aren't always in control of your actions. So I forgive you."

"Thank you." Hermione wiped her eyes and let McGonagall kiss her forehead. It made her stomach flutter and she smiled slightly.

"Would you like to go home?" Minerva asked after a minute.

Her heart and stopped racing and her thoughts had cleared again. The fear had subsided. "I'm okay. We can stay a little longer."

"Are you sure? Godfrey won't mind if we leave early."

"No, we should stay." She got to her feet and offered her hand to help Minerva up. The front door opened again and the wizard looked at them, still holding hands.

"Is everything alright out here?" He asked with a slight frown.

"Just getting some air," replied Minerva. "We're coming."

Hermione followed them inside and noticed that the mirror had already been repaired and hung up again.

"Don't worry about that, Min," Godfrey said, pointing at it, "I've done that once or twice and the elf is always breaking things."

"We are getting clumsy in our old age," she replied and Hermione knew McGonagall had lied to keep her out of trouble. She stopped in her tracks, blinking at the strangeness. Her professor, one of the strictest teachers she had met, had lied for her.

When she joined them again the conversation at the table had already commenced. The two old friends talked mostly about politics and new discoveries which left Hermione feeling small. No one tried to discuss the war or Hermione's future and she became acutely aware that Minerva had probably told him not to ask those questions. Instead of actively participating in the dialog she listened and watched, becoming increasingly conscious of every gesture the wizard made. Whenever he had the chance, Godfrey would place his hand on McGonagall's and he inched his way closer to her every time he laughed. While he never looked Hermione's way the other witch looked to her many times, smiling at her and often pulling her hand away from Godfrey's in favour of offering lemon cake or more water to her.

It would be a lie to say Hermione was sorry to go. However, when McGonagall announced the intention to go home she thanked the host politely and agreed it was very nice to meet him. He walked them out to the garden where they donned their coats and he kissed Minerva on the cheek. The gesture was returned, though stiffly, and the two witches linked arms. There was the final "Goodbye," and "Don't be a stranger," before the pop. In an instant they were no longer in the colourful, inviting garden and back in the cool, but comfortable sitting room of McGonagall Manor.

Hermione took a moment to steady herself. The room was the same one as they left from, but there were two differences from how it looked in the morning; there was now a Christmas tree (un-decorated, but with a few gifts beneath it), and there were four owls perched around the room. She knew the small, erratic one to be Pigwidgeon but the others were a mystery. Ginny's owl flew to her shoulder the moment they arrived. There was a look of bemusement on McGonagall's face as Zena skidding into the room with two dead mice in each hand. The house elf explained that the birds had all arrived while they were out. The small one and the large tawny barn owl had been carrying a largish package between them and the old black one carried a festive gift. Both of them had been addressed to Hermione. The fourth owl had brought something for Minerva which she'd placed in her room.

"Well this isn't an owlery, Zena. Take them into the kitchen so they won't make a mess on the carpet." The house elf bowed and apologised. She whistled and waved the mice to get the animals' attention before being chased into the other room. "Now Hermione, since Zena's already gone to the trouble of finding us a tree we might as well decorate it."