New chapter up, at last.
PS: there might have been one or two parts in the previous chapters that seemed confusing, I know when I read over them they sure as hell baffled me; but then I remembered, everything from when Hermione was in the hospital with Minerva, to Minerva getting attacked, right up past the Aurors and Umbridges' death, were all in a kind of part flashback setting's that Hermione is thinking about as she sits in the chair by the bed in the hospital, because I know where Harry talks about Umbridge and his career choice, she's awake there so it's flashbacks to the night of the attack that lead up to when she's in St Mungos. So just pointing that out in case people were confused or wondering. Again, I was and then panicked that I had made yet another mistake which nearly had me throwing the laptop down in frustration and going to hide under a rock, never again to write another word.
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Or better yet, don't. On second thoughts it has given me a headache and I'm sure as hell positive it's going to give you one to; so… ignore the crapfest that has been the last few chapters and let's focus on the future crapfest chapters that I deliver and hope that you still enjoy reading.
"You got enough pillows?"
"Yes, dear—Hermione, you real—"
"What about the blankets? That one doesn't look too warm. I think I spotted one upstairs, give me a minute and I'll go find it for you,"
"Hermione, dear, seriously this is more than enough."
Encamped in her favourite armchair, Minerva watched as the younger witch ran about the room. Ever since returning from the hospital, it had been like all systems go and from the moment they stepped back inside the house, Hermione had yet to take a break.
"Are you sure? You could just be saying that."
A fond but exasperated sigh found its way out of her lips and Minerva smiled and tilted her head.
"I'm positive."
Reluctantly Hermione nodded her head, looking slightly put out by the answer, but then brightened as soon as she realized her cup was empty.
"Tea! You need more tea… alright, five minutes—not even that!" and Minerva watched her rush from the room, feet slipping along the hardwood floor as she rounded the corner. Eyeing the now vacant space, Minerva let out another exhale and chuckled a little as she thought about the crazy few days that had followed since her discharge from the hospital. Whilst it was nice to feel loved, the resulting consequence of 'rest and recovery' meant that Hermione had demoted herself to a house-elf. Evidently taking the healers instructions to heart, the younger girl had, no sooner as they got over the threshold, helped her to her chair and it had spiralled from there. Speaking of, there was also the issue of the actual missing house elf that normally would have done these menial duties. Patches was always prompt when attending her tasks and would never let them lift a finger- no matter even if it was just a small chore- she always saw to it, so to find her absent now was puzzling.
A small noise saw Hermione's return to the room. Carrying a fresh cup of steaming hot tea, she carefully moved, and Minerva stifled a chuckle at the utmost look of concentration as she slowly lowered it to the side desk next to the chair, before standing up straight, a pleased look of accomplishment on her face.
"Thank you, my dear."
Hermione simply nodded, and Minerva lifted a finger on catching sight of the furtive glance around the room, no doubt looking for other things to tend to which the older woman decided to draw the line at.
"Hermione."
Catching her attention, green eyes locked with their counterparts and the chair-bound woman smiled warmer this time, as she shook her head.
"This is more than enough."
Her words, though gentle sounding, held a touch of finality to them which the younger girl took note of and once again nodded her head slowly.
"If you're sure,"
"I'm sure."
Silence descended upon them as Minerva moved to take her now, full cup and gently blew along the rim, she glanced to find the younger witch now mulling in front of her, clearly at a loss.
"Why don't you go and find something to relax with?"
Thinking it over for a few seconds, Hermione pursed her lips. "Like what?"
Brows arched high at the response. Never before had she been asked such a question; normally when they returned home for holidays, Hermione was up and in her room before her trunk had even touched the floor, as it stood this was the longest she had ever been in her presence that didn't include dinner, or asking questions about her homework, and it was a sad fact indeed that all this attentiveness was down purely to the one woman who had caused her injury in the first place; not that she was complaining… she had done all that in the hospital and so lowered her cup as she gave the notion of offering solutions a go.
"What about writing to Harry and Ron,"
Pulling a face, her nose wrinkled as she shook her head. "Ron won't touch a quill unless he absolutely has to, and so writing to him so soon would be a waste of ink, and I'm still not 100 per cent with Harry just yet—what?"
She caught the look and frowned as Minerva placed her tea down once again.
"Don't you think this disparaging of Harry has gone on long enough?"
Silence fell once more as Hermione reared back a little, eyeing her as one would when faced with something odd.
"That was a joke, right?"
"When have you ever known me to joke around,"
A beat, before the younger girl had to concede to that, and nodded. "You're right. You're about as funny as a cold."
She dismissed the small noise coming from the seated woman and looked away for a minute, only glancing back when she had more to say.
"Perhaps. The fact that Harry has too live with his mistakes—monumental as they are—should be enough to warrant a letter. Should be enough for me to take pity on his pathetic self, as he wallows in no doubt, abject despair and constant nightmares; reliving the fundamental moment over and over until it drives him mad with grief. The loss of not only, his last living semblance of family, but one that was connected to his parents at that. Knowing he caused the death of his dad's single greatest friend will stay with him for the rest of his—"
"Ok—ok, Hermione, I think you've made your point."
She must have, for the shakiness in her mothers' voice caused her to look down and felt a flash of shame as the clear uneasiness that could be seen swimming about, had her cursing her mouth as she shook her head and moved to sit at the side of her.
"Sorry,"
Minerva merely took to keeping a wary eye on her, as she sighed and let her head hang before carrying on.
"I want to; I want to say that his pain is punishment enough, that he doesn't have to sit there thinking not only of Sirius, but also the fact that one of his best friends is uncaring to his suffering. As it is Ron was the only one who tried with him those last few days, apart from Neville who also kept his distance, I didn't go anywhere near him and didn't even say goodbye before I left."
With Minerva having been released sooner than they thought, and seeing as it was the final day, Dumbledore had allowed Hermione to leave; not by train but through his floo network, as she packed up her stuff and with a note to Ron saying where she had gone and told him to stay away from Snape, (she hoped he listened to her on that,) she left without another word to him, or anyone else, not even sparing a goodbye to Harry as she did.
"But… I do think he's suffered enough. And I know he knows that and so I will write to him. But not yet," she added with a small look the older woman's way who looked like she was about to ask why.
"I know at this time he won't be bothered to do anything; I should imagine he'll still be feeling terrible and it'll be useless sending anything right now."
Her tone seemed to be final on the matter and so Minerva didn't push it, instead she simply tilted her head in acquiesce and settled back down, there was a few minutes of silence before Hermione groaned and pushed herself to her feet.
"Well, I think I'll go get some tea; might do a bit of reading… see you at dinner." With that she leaned over and pecked the seated woman on her cheek, before making her way towards the door and leaving Minerva to watch her go. Shutting the doors behind her, Hermione turned to make her way down the hall, the kitchen firmly in mind, but jumped back—startled as she found herself looking down at a very angry house elf.
Back slamming against the door, the younger witch cursed under her breath, only to wince as a shout came from the other side. "What have I told you about swearing?"
"Dam cat hearing," she mumbled with a scowl, before slowly turning back to face the tiny problem currently blocking her way; as her annoyance morphed into confusion and she stared at the glaring little creature with no amount of awkwardness.
"Patches?"
The elf said nothing.
"What err… what's—what's wrong?"
"Are you trying to make Patches look bad."
The question completely threw Hermione, who could only look on; the occasional blink leaving her looking stupid. "What!?"
"Are you trying to sabotage Patches, make a fool out of me?"
Unsure of what to say but fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the question that came from nowhere; Hermione shook her head frantically.
"NO! —no what a thing to say… why would you say such a thing?"
The elf's glare deepened as it seemed she had hit a nerve and the little creature took a step closer, a small hand coming out as she did.
"Patches is the tea maker in this household," Hermione winced as a bony finger poked her stomach, "Patches is the pillow fluffer and I's is the blanket fetcher. Got it?"
Hermione nodded her head frantically, still mindful of the finger lingering near her abdomen. "Very… so very much."
Large bat eyes narrowed as Patches then crossed her skinny arms and glared upwards, "Then why are you trying to upstage me and take my duties?"
The last part was spoken with a little sadness that Hermione couldn't help but wish she almost poked her again; at least that way her chest didn't twinge as it dawned on her just why the small elf was so pissed and knelt, so they could look each other in the eyes.
"Aww, I'm sorry Patches. I didn't mean to offend you." The little creature looked unconvinced and so the younger witch sat down further on the floor, legs crossing as she did.
"I was just so happy that mum was awake and was fit enough to come home. I just wanted to make up for the time that we lost, and I guess that I forgot that you were the one who looked after the house and all those in it,"
Patches' frown dropped a little on hearing her speak. It was silent for a moment as Hermione gazed at the floor, before she spoke up again and lifted her eyes. "If it helps, I think she's getting a bit sick of my hovering and so I shall happily leave everything else in your capable hands from now on."
The tiny elf still didn't say anything as Hermione cocked her head slightly, a small smile growing on her lips, "Are we ok?"
The elf assessed the younger girl for a moment or two, before a similar smile crept over her own tiny mouth and she nodded. "We's good."
"Good."
The smile then turned contented as Patches gazed bac at the younger witch. "Now, go to your room."
Silence followed the statement as Hermione pulled her head back, a little shocked. "What?"
"Did Patches stutter?"
"No, but—"
"Then do as patches said."
A beat followed, before Hermione frowned and opened her mouth.
"But I,"
"Go."
"Wanted,"
"To."
"Was going to,"
"Your."
"The kitchen, for some,"
"Room."
"Tea."
The last word left her lips weakly and a stare off ensued, as the little elf kept her large and extremely round eyes upon the younger girl. Never before had Hermione noticed just how uncomfortable elves could be until they had been staring at you for the better part of five minutes, and still dubiously frowning she slowly slid away from the serenely smiling elf, clambering to her feet and moving towards the stairs with a resigned sigh. Halfway up she paused and turned back to find Patches still watching her, still smiling peacefully and still creeping her out; shaking her head and quickly carried on until she reached her door, and not trusting the elf to have followed her, moved inside.
Shutting the door behind her, she was greeted by the sole occupant of the room, as Crookshanks lifted his head, eyes homing in on the intruder and sleepily snuffled. Still unsure about what had just happened, Hermione stood by the door, eyes down and brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of where to go next as she looked to where the cat was eyeing her.
"I think I just got grounded by a house elf."
Said cat, with his never-ending empathy and infinite benevolence, opened his maw and yawned toothily at her; she grimaced and was thankful she wasn't any closer—imagining just how terrible his breath was, it was bad enough he did that come morning… such a helpful alarm clock, before heaving another sigh and moving to sit at the end of her bed.
A dip had her looking to see the half Kneazle coming to join her, sitting at the side as she gave his figure a once over, a thoughtful look passing her face.
"You're right."
He lifted his head from where he had been licking his paw, as she slowly nodded her head. Seemingly buoyed by what his grooming had inspired. "We are strong-willed people… and cat's like us shouldn't let others walk over us; we're going to go and show that elf who's boss." With that she stood and moved back towards the door and leaving him watching her go, she opened the door and made to step out, only to freeze at the sight of said elf. Patches turned, arms full of bedding as she made her way towards the master room which was Minerva's as they caught sight of each other, and with a single arched brow from the elf, Hermione turned and made way back inside.
Closing the door once again, quietness reigned over the room as her eyes fell back upon the furry cat who had been watching, "On seconds thoughts, staring out of a window for a few hours is a wonderful way to pass the time,"
His reply was a swish of his tail as Hermione nudged her head and made her way to where the window lay, her desk underneath as she sat down.
"But just in case, there's provisions in my drawer so I'm sure we can withstand our captivity for a few hours… days if we ration right."
Crookshanks turned and made his way back to the pillows, plopping down once more he resumed his cleaning and leaving Hermione to ruminate on their potential hostage situation. His person might have suggested they share, but he was Crookshanks, he had no concept of the word and so whilst he groomed, he also plotted. Once her back was turned—the food—all of it, was his.
A few hours later and Hermione was sat at the dinner-table. When Patches popped in unceremoniously whilst she was hatching an escape route, the small elf cheerfully announced that dinner was ready and left without so much as an apology for the hours she had forced them to waste; didn't that heartless sprite know just how long she had kept them captive? Just how long the endless agony the young girl had endured, her mind working double overtime in a constant state of terror; lamenting on if they were doomed and for all the wicked little imp knew, could have starved whilst exiled to one single room.
As she watched the chirpy little creature of hell serving the roast potatoes, asking the older woman if she wanted either two or three, Hermione got her answer. No, clearly Patches cared nothing for hers and Crookshanks turmoil and it was on that day, as she sullenly nodded for three potatoes, she would never forget.
It was after that Minerva retired to bed. On announcing her exhaustion, she put a stop to whatever it was Hermione was about to say next, on seeing the look of alarm on her face and reassured her with a smile that she was simply tired and so wanted to sleep. Hermione wasn't overly sure that was the real reason but knowing just how persevering she was at concealing the truth, conceded and with a kiss goodnight watched her go, escorted by the devils left hand.
Well, his pinkie finger, Patches was rather small to be an entire hand, so a finger would be more suited to the malicious imp; not long after Minerva went to bed, did Hermione follow suit, not realizing how sleepy she felt until it hit her like a brick, she returned to her once prison to find the cat lying on her bed, drawer pushed open and what provisions she had devoured as he slumbered in his post evening fit of gluttonous frenzy. Scowling she threw a pillow at the sleeping cat and was only slightly mollified when he woke hissing to find her staring at him.
"You could have at least cleaned up after yourself!"
Dishonest in his remorse, the Kneazle merely stretched and moved to his own pillow that sat at the side of hers, lying down once more and closing his eyes, focused on his return to sleep leaving her to shift his mess and grumbling about his lack of manners, though really she knew all this by now, resumed getting changed and shuffled under the covers, before switching the lamp off and settling down for the night. Her last thoughts on what the rest of the holidays would be like, before sleep overtook.
The next day and Hermione, still unsure of what to do, started to clear out her trunk. Having simply left it in the hall, she hadn't been surprised to find it gone and as in her room, but given what Patches had been like, she had been surprised that it hadn't ended up outside on the back doorstep; but nonetheless she got to work taking out her things and sorting them into piles as to what was going where. Her clothes, understandably was staying put, but her other things such as the books and required items were being packed and put away as she made to move and sort out what was going for washing, and had picked up what happened to be, one of her favourite shirts when a small 'thud' had her looking down to see something roll its way under her bed. Kneeling, she eventually fished out what the item was and on realizing just what she held, was stumped.
It was Harry's prophecy.
Staring at the small sphere, flummoxed, Hermione slowly wondered when forgot she had that; something of a large scale such as this wasn't normally a thing one let slip from their minds… but, here she was; moving to her desk, she placed it down and sat in front of it, eyeing the innocuous item like it was one of Hagrid's pets.
What was she to do with it? Giving it a little poke, she watched as it rolled across the desk. It wasn't as if she could listen to it; only those who are subjects of the prophecy would be able to hear what lay inside, otherwise Lucius wouldn't have needed Harry to pick it up, but to anyone else who held it, it would simply be a useless lump of glass.
Would make a lovely paperweight though, she mused as it rolled along some parchment she had lying on the side, leaning back, her mind went to the night in the Ministry; they had all heard the words, when Harry had picked it up, the almost sepulchral like voice from within rang out around the small ally allowing them all to hear what it was that had Voldemort so desperate to steal, snagging an idle bit of paper from the side, she summoned a pen to her; her command of the wandless magic was getting better, but it was still only small things she could call, but vowed to start on bigger stuff soon and tried to rack her brain for what she could remember the voice saying.
Power to vanquish dark lord = Harry
Born to those who defied him three times = parents (obviously)
She tapped the pen on the desk, furiously trying to recall the rest.
Something about a power… (see Harry for further explanation)
Rubbing her head, this was harder than she thought when at the time she hadn't cared. There was a little she couldn't remember, but the last part, and the one she found most interesting, instantly came to mind. Recollecting the final words all to well, she slowly wrote them down.
Neither can live, whilst the other survives…
What did that even mean? Throwing the pen down altogether, she sat back and rubbed her temples. Already she was getting a headache and it wasn't even noon, but then again, most people weren't sitting and trying to decipher a bloody prophecy. She lifted her head back up and eyed what was written, as she tried to think a little more analytically about what it could have meant.
Point one: Harry had/has a shit life.
From what she had been told, (albeit not much,) gleaned and simply assumed about his life; Harry potter did not have it easy. He was, overall, neglected and abused and thinking about it made her so angry at both those parasites he called relatives, and Dumbledore for allowing it… but she couldn't dwell on that rage just yet, she still had this to finish and so reluctantly pushing down that hate, she switched to apathy and resumed her musings.
For his entire life, Harry has suffered. Not just at the hands of his family, but by those around him; again, Dumbledore, for the sake of his welfare… not much if you asked her, but apparently no one did, insisted Harry stay with those useless lumps of flesh who were the source of his misery. When he finally gets a bit of happiness in the form of school, those around him be it Malfoy, who took to taunting him when he spurned his offer of friendships constantly, along with his idiotic followers, tried everyday to make his life hell. Next came those from Gryffindor, who turned on him at various stages; such as second year and when the paper came out declaring Voldemort had returned, Seamus was one of the first and by no means the last to question his stability and along with some of the others from the houses, gossiped behind his back. He was revered one minute, reviled the next and that was another factor to add to his torment.
Then there were those who openly called for his death; Malfoy senior and the new death-eaters who were making it their mission to ruin his life and by harming those he cared for, caused him no ending of suffering Sirius being the latest casualty by which they had succeeded.
Voldemort however… Now whilst she had no doubt that he cared for anyone other than himself, half the time probably killed those around him personally so doubted their losses would cause him any anguish, but up until the Triwizard tournament, he had been living a life that was less than half; leeching off those around him in order to endure and was barely anything corporeal until the fourth year when he finally created himself a new body.
So perhaps that was where the surviving part came into it, Voldemort was living like a wandering wraith and because of it, Harry had not lived like a child was supposed to; it was still all confusing and until she gave it back to Harry, there was nothing more she could do, so snagging it back up, she placed it in an old shirt and inside her wardrobe with a reminder to put it in her trunk before the new year started, before getting back to sorting her clothes.
As the holidays officially got underway, and she had sorted out her bedroom, she quickly started to realize just how long the days were when there was nothing to entertain herself with. Having exhausted all her books, and with the school lists not even close to coming out yet, she was stuck re-reading her old stuff. Not that it was a bad thing, as it was she had two or three particularly riveting books that were always good to go over, but it was she had already experienced… she craved new stimulation and that was something she found lacking in the house.
Thursday saw her spread flat out on her bed, eyes gazing up at the ceiling dully, she contemplated why the holidays were so bloody long. Surely the board of governors must know overly intelligent people such as herself needed-no, demanded a busy study schedule; how was one meant to better themselves when they forced holidays upon the masses. A small knock at her door saw Minerva peeking her head through.
She gazed at the inert figure on the bed with a frown. "What's wrong?"
Hermione sighed and forced herself into an upright position, leaning on her elbows she stared at the door. "Wondering if Voldemort became a monstrous dictator because of the holidays."
Flabbergasted, the older woman's mouth dropped and shivered a little at the reference of his name, her eyes closed meant she missed the eyeroll by the younger witch before shaking her head and looked back at her.
"Wha—how—what on Merlin's pointy hat are you talking about? And please don't ever mention his name again. Not in this house."
Refraining from eyerolling again, Hermione exhaled and sat up fully, a shrug on her shoulders before replying. "As every good wannabe despot knows, the best way to organize an empire is by keeping in close contact with your minions."
Minerva was still perplexed and so shrugged herself as she stepped further into the room. "So,"
"So, how is anyone even meant to try overthrowing society, when society states there must be a hundred days holidays throughout the year; it makes for a very difficult meeting schedule and so was wondering if partly the reason why he hates the Dumbledore so much, is because he approved of the mandatory holiday system-in school at least."
Minerva was staring at the younger girl as if she had grown a third head. There was silence in the room as the older woman thought long and hard about how to answer such a thing, when Hermione shook head.
"Ahhh… doesn't matter," before she breathed in and heaved a loud sigh, before turning to look out the window. The slight dip on the mattress had her looking to see Minerva had come to sit next to her, as she peered carefully at the younger girl.
"Holiday hating tyrants aside, what's wrong?"
At the question, Hermione exhaled again and dropped back down onto bed. Minerva arched her brow at the move and followed her down to find her staring at the ceiling again.
"I never realized just how tedious the holidays can be."
Well that came out of nowhere. Minerva's chin lifted slightly as she regarded the now known to be, bored young girl.
"You… find the holidays to be… tiresome?"
Hermione nodded, but then quickly shook her head before pursing her lips as she tried to find the right words. "Its not so much that I find them tiresome, its more… 'wow, have they always been this long' kind of thing."
Bobbing her head, Minerva pondered on what to say; this had never been an issue before, Hermione had always enjoyed the holidays; not for the same reasons most other students did, but for the fact she could read as much as she wanted uninterrupted and whatever book she chose. So, to hear her say that she found that dreary, was… odd."
"Have you read all the books in here?"
The question sounded stupid even to her own ears, the pointed look she also got said as much and she nodded again.
"Well… what about going to see Addie?" no matter how many times she said it, it still only sounded a little less weird with every mention of his name as Hermione shook her head.
"No, it's only been a week."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
Heaving another sigh, the younger witch struggled back to her elbows, "He said to never bother him until at least two weeks after we've come back."
She vaguely recalled something along those lines being said a couple of years back; the first time Hermione had returned from visiting him and it seemed, she still found it to be just as baffling. Minerva pondered how on earth a snake could even tell the time, much less know any math enough to know when a whole fourteen days had passed. The reptile was not at all what she had been expecting and that still threw her for a loop, whilst the Hogwarts snakes basked in their self-thought sense of superiority over the rest of the school, real snakes it seemed, didn't care about that.
Or perhaps it was just this one…. This one was grouchy. Terribly so.
It seemed Hermione had thought so to, for she had been speaking the whole time and Minerva focused in enough to hear the last words of her sentence.
"How anything could sleep for that long I'll never know… plus he's always so judgy if it's disturbed," she paused a moment, looking down, before carrying on.
"I'd add supercilious to that long list of adjectives I've called him before… but he doesn't have any eyebrows,"
What the hell was she talking about? Minerva closed her eyes wishing she had paid attention. "Though I suppose he doesn't need them to be as snobbish as he is,"
Minerva was starting to regret coming in here and looked to the door when the younger witch was busy frowning at her lap. Would it be in bad taste if she left her daughter to her boredom, whilst she went and got some tea? Giving her a furtive glance, the answer was yes, but her thought now was focused only on the tea and a sit down so didn't care anymore.
"I'm sure you'll find something to occupy your time with dear."
Hermione looked up as Minerva pushed herself off the bed, scowling at the walking stick she had been forced to use, she slowly made her way to the door; turning back she gave the observing girl a smile.
"Just try not to overthink it, something will come up." Before she turned and made her way to the stairs. Hermine watched the door, listening to the clack of the stick before throwing herself back down. Something would come up… something would come up…
In the end she decided to write to Cedric. Sitting at her desk, she tried to summon the words to put down. After a while of thinking she decided to go with the usual. The customary politeness of how he was, how his week had been which then led to how his work was; holding the letter to the light, she frowned. This as nothing but a letter between one friend to another, not how…
Well she still didn't really know what it was between them; the odd hug here and there, a yule ball date and then a near death snog at the end of the year was not something she would class as a relationship. Shaking her head, she placed the paper back on the table and picked up her pen again, when not in school she chose to employ some muggle methods and found that the pen was simply far more practical then quills could ever hope to be and chewing on her bottom lip, decided to extend an invite to Diagon ally.
There she would find out once and for all, just what really was going on, as she threw her pen to the side and made her way towards the owlery, after eyeing the occupants and deciding that Hera would do the trick-it wasn't as if she could get one of the two resident eagles to go- she coaxed the owl down and after giving it explicit instructions to deliver it to his flat in London and not Devon where he used to live, she watched the owl fly out the window and inhaled deeply. Knowing that the school holidays no longer applied to him-not now in the real world- she could only wait for his response and hope he wasn't busy or too tired to miss it, as she bade the other birds goodbye and made her way back to her room, before backtracking and made for the stairs. Thanks to a fat cat and his insatiable gut, she now had to stock up on supplies, only pausing when she reached the living room door as she heard the small mutters and wondered for a second who it was the Mother might have been talking to, but shook her head figuring it was Patches and so carried on.
On hearing movement by the stairs, Minerva quickly waved her hand and her guest stopped talking, there was a slight pause outside and the woman feared Hermione might come in, but to her relief the younger girl carried on and she breathed out once the footsteps faded out, before she turned back to her guest. Who had surprised her by flooing directly into her living room.
"You want me to try get Hermione out of the house?"
Across from her, Dumbledore nodded. His face pensive and Minerva noted the lack of anything positive twinkling in his eyes like normal. "I do; there is far too much to discuss here and I would rather not speak of delicate matters when we might be disturbed."
"Is it that serious?"
"Yes," he said succinctly and Minerva couldn't help but feel a weight that wasn't her dressings press down on her chest at the sight of his troubled looking expression and solemn voice whatever it was, it had to have been bad and so she slowly nodded, mind working on idea of how she could get keep Hermione occupied long enough for them to talk; she didn't like the idea of sending her away, even if it was only for a few hours, and so tried to find ways of keeping her busy, but close at the same time.
"Apologies dear Minerva but I must be taking my leave. No—please don't get up, I'll see myself out." He smiled and held up his hand when he saw her try to stand, as she nodded gratefully and sank back in her chair, watching as he made his way to the floo; once he had gone and the room descended into silence, Minerva's face fell and her brows furrowed, as she tried to work out what possibly could have gone wrong to make Albus so worried. It had to have been to do with the school, if it was to do with the Ministry then that was issues only he could deal with and so wrote them off and focused solely on the place that was her second home, but to her frustration her brain just couldn't find the answer as to what it might have been and so with a sigh, gave up. Whatever it was, she would find out when the opportunity for a longer meeting came about, and so pushed the thoughts away and settled with calling Patches, who quickly arrived with the tray of tea she had been waiting in the wings with, as the older woman smiled and thanked her.
As much as she thought she had pushed away the bothersome thoughts, she found it returning upon retiring for bed that night, and didn't leave her until the next week, when she and Albus finally came face to face again.