A/N: This has taken a while, I apologise. Had a birthday to get through plus a whole host of other things to deal with. The next chapter's almost written though.

Albus had given her a task in their meeting the previous evening- speak to Remus Lupin in depth. Grudgingly, she'd concurred but only because she felt she had been neglecting her duties recently and wanted to level that.

So knocking on the door of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office Minerva braced herself for this situation she had desperately tried to avoid up to this point and waited for the admittance.

When it came it was tired but fairly cheerful. Entering she found Remus behind his desk idly instructing a quill across a battered piece of parchment with his wand. The moment he saw her he halted. 'Professor! This is a privilege.'

Despite herself, she smiled. 'Remus, as you're now a teacher yourself it isn't necessary to address me so formally.'

'I couldn't imagine that, Professor,' he answered, indicating for her to be seated. 'Is there a reason you're here?'

'Albus wondered how your tenure here was progressing; I was shamed to admit I hadn't discussed it with you.'

He shook his head. 'I was rather enjoying the free rein. Aside from certain interruptions, of course.'

Minerva did not need a sterner indicator. 'I assumed old rivalries would re-emerge with time. Is it affecting pupil moral at all?'

'Only the observant have noticed,' he answered. 'Harry Potter for one.'

'Yes, I can imagine he would. He has the same aversion to Severus as his father had. And you, as I recall.'

Smiling at a distant memory, Remus said, 'Yes, I had worried it would be difficult. I wasn't too off the mark.'

'It's bound to be difficult, Remus. It always is.' Shaking her own memory away, Minerva stood. 'I assume you have nothing further to add?'

'Er… No, Professor. I mean, Minerva.'

She nodded. 'If there ever is anything…'

'Yes, thank you.'

I'm getting there now. No, I'm there already. I've forced myself not to look at

Her or think about her or anything and I feel in control again, When she

Stares at me she can't see anything, I made sure of it. And she does stare, I've

Seen it. But that's just Hermione thinking she knows what she knows. If she

Thinks it was her imagination things'll go back to normal round here.

Ginny reread that and frowned. It sounded philosophical, determined and so completely false. She was now lying to her diary and she recognised it but she didn't want to attempt to fix it. Over the last few days she'd suddenly become anxious that Hermione would find her room and her diary and know that she knew the truth. Ginny couldn't stand that. She had this denial, it was protecting her. She wasn't about to let it slip through her grasp.

Dear Minerva-

No, Molly screwed up the piece of paper. Too informal.

To Minerva-

That sounded too distant, a bit too formal.

Dear Minerva, I am writing to apologise-

Why would an intelligent woman like Minerva need confirmation this was a letter?

Dear Minerva, I wanted to apologise for leaving quickly last week. I had the feeling I was needed at home-

Minerva ridiculed clairvoyancy of any variety.

I realised I may have been needed at home. Not waiting to say goodbye was inexcusable of me. I don't know what I was thinking. I hope I didn't cause-

And there Molly stopped, her hand was trembling gently. Putting the pen down she resolved to write the letter later, as she had so many times in the last few days.

Hermione frowned as she realised the staircase had taken off from beneath her once again. She had been going to the library to drop off her due books, deciding it would be quiet while most of the students lounged about outside and the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams prepared for their match the next weekend. Ron had gone to watch the practice, of course. Hermione deemed she had better things to do.

The staircase showed no inclination to move back to its former position so, frustrated, Hermione stepped off at the top. She was on the fifth floor. Calling to mind the Hogwarts plan she had memorised before she had even started school she decided she could make it to the library via a different route. If she went along to the end of this corridor, took a left, a right and dodged the place Peeves liked to attempt his farting records then she could get onto the seventh floor. From there she could flit down another winding corridor, slide down a banister and land in the library like Olivia Newton John on steroids. Easy as humming.

Taking off at a trot she followed her route up to the seventh floor, stopping short as she looked along the corridor. Which way was it? She remembered that the opposite end to the one she wanted led to a beautiful view of the Great Lake in a small viewing compartment but, as delightful as it was, it was a lengthy walk and she did have more pressing things to do. Leaning with her back against the wall she tried to get her bearings then found herself crumbling head-first to the wooden floor after a sharp poke from behind. As her books went everywhere she immediately flipped over to find Ginny steadying herself on a doorway. Ginny and a doorway that hadn't been there seconds earlier.

Dragging herself to her knees, Hermione asked angrily, 'What's going on, what's in there?'

'Nothing.' Ginny moved forward and knelt beside her to pick up the books while Hermione stared at the hole in the wall. Before her eyes it changed into the grand woodwork she had seen before.

She didn't know which way was up. Glancing nervously at the girl on the floor beside her she asked, in a much calmer tone, 'Why did that door vanish into thin air?'

Ginny didn't answer straight away. She stretched over to retrieve a book on troll fights. Finally, she said, 'What door?'

'Oh, Ginny, stop doing this, please!'

'Doing what?'

'Pretending I'm imagining all this, messing with my head. It isn't…' She trailed off as her friend stood. 'Ginny, it isn't fair.'

The redhead inclined her face away. 'I've got no idea what you're talking about.'

Sensing she was about to move Hermione leapt up and grabbed her arm. 'I want to hear you admit to it.'

When she turned her head they were closer than anticipated. Ginny's lower lip was trembling. 'I can't.'

Pulling the younger girl into arms Hermione followed her urge to just hold her. 'It's okay, it's alright.'

'No!' Ginny wrenched away, her eyes beginning to stream. 'I'm not doing this, not with you.'

'Because you think you've got feelings for me?' Hermione asked steadily.

The girl nodded tremulously then turned her head away. 'I know it isn't what you want to hear.'

'It's not,' she agreed then frowned at the look of intense pain on Ginny's face. 'I didn't mean that, I meant…'

'It doesn't matter.' Ginny made to move again but Hermione halted her.

'No, wait, it does! Look, this isn't exactly familiar ground for me either. But you need to talk to me about it. We can work it out.'

After a long moment Ginny nodded. 'Maybe.'

'Good. You know the viewing room the other end of the corridor? I'll meet you there, I've just got to see someone.'

Remus had always been a pleasant soul, Minerva had liked him. Out of the quartet comprising him, Black, Potter and Pettigrew she had always felt the most affinity with him. How ridiculous that sounded- an affinity with a young boy! Yet he was mature beyond his years. She discovered later, of course, why that was and it had heightened her appreciation of him. Still, she hadn't wanted to hone his skills or have anything to do with him after the incident with… No, the death of Pettigrew. It brought back to mind mistakes, things she could've done differently.

A couple of raps on her office door brought her from her macabre memoir. 'Come.'

It was Hermione who entered gingerly and nervously. 'Professor, can I…' She swallowed. 'I need to ask you something.'

'Of course, Miss Granger.' Minerva indicated to the chair opposite her. 'Please, sit down.' When the pupil was settled she said, 'I don't often get visitors at the weekend, I can only assume this is of some importance.'

'That's the thing, Professor,' sighed Hermione, twining and untwining her fingers. 'I don't know if it is, I'm not sure what's going on.'

Never a phrase she had expected to hear from her star pupil. 'In what respect?'

'Well, I… Professor, why do you think Ginny tried to put that spell on me?'

'Presumably because she believed you had previously put a spell on her.' Now Minerva had an idea where this was leading, though it was up to Hermione to spell it out.

'Yes, I know. But what spell would I put on her? Why would I do it?'

'Miss Granger,' said Minerva kindly. 'Perhaps if you were to answer the questions yourself. Obviously you're aware of the answers.'

'Yes,' she conceded. 'But I don't even want to say it.'

Leaning forward and resting her arms on the desk, Minerva said, 'Shall we assume I am also aware of the answers to these riddles? And shall we also assume that I am not an ogre? I do wish to help.'

That raised a small smile then the frown returned. 'Do you really know? Did she tell you? Is that why you gave me her spell?'

'Miss Granger, please. You ask far too many questions. Now usually I wouldn't object but if you could refrain in this instance.'

'Sorry, Professor. Did you have a point to make?'

'I only presumed to allow you assumptions. Make of that what you will.'

It took a few moments for Hermione to consider that in depth. Then she nodded. 'What I've found out about her, it scares me.'

'Scares you because of the damage it may cause Ginny?'

'Partly that. I know what the Muggles are like.'

'I wouldn't say we are entirely better,' said Minerva. 'But the majority are civilised.'

'And the minority?' asked Hermione quietly.

Minerva surveyed her shrewdly. 'They are as likely to attack Ginny for her father's job and choice of friends. I believe you know that.'

'Yes, Professor, I do,' the young girl answered, abashed.

'Am I to assume that damage to Ginny is not the only thing on your mind?'

She shrugged. 'I'm being selfish. I don't know how it affects me. I just wish I'd never found out.'

'Do I take that to mean you don't know your own feelings on the matter?' Minerva asked carefully.

'I don't think I do,' Hermione admitted with a shuddering breath. 'I don't know what to do! I've left Ginny upstairs, she expects me to talk to her and I… What do I say?'

'I can't tell you that, Hermione. You must do what's right for everyone involved, yourself included.'