A/N (1/24/2021): thanks to a couple of anonymous comments, I find that I must clarify the following:
1) this was written close to ten years ago. I've been updating it more recently, but the idea and early chapters are old.
2) I don't stan statutory rape. Minerva is a woke-a** witch who understands consent. Nothing is going to happen physically between those two as long as Hermione is underage.
3) Also related to age-ranges. I imagine Minerva to be middle-aged. Kit466 on Deviantart has some great illustrations to give you an idea of the "Minerva" in this story.
4) I don't stan TERFS. J.K Rowling may have created these characters, but she is not welcome in this house.
Hello all, Cilla Cygnus here to tell you that I own nothing.
I'm a fanfic reader for the most part so I'm quite inexperienced as a fanfiction writer. This fanfiction will not be following the plot of HP perfectly, and I will be taking liberties with a few things. All critiques are welcome and encouraged.
Hermione's fourth year hadn't even started, and yet she was nervous. It was a hot August afternoon, and a fit of worry jolted through her. She had come home from the Burrow about a week earlier, and now thoughts of school flooded her head. She had a horrible experience last year with the Time Turner, but she felt like she was somehow failing by lightening her course load. No one had ever alluded to failure. In fact, the only time failure was ever hinted at was when McGonagall had given her the Time Turner in order to accommodate her impossibly packed schedule.
McGonagall. Just the name ran shivers down Hermione's spine. She was so eager to please Professor McGonagall. After all, she was an animagus, and Hermione wanted more than anything else to do the same. Professor McGonagall was Hermione's inspiration, her role model, and even, as of last year, her mentor. Hermione admired her professor so highly that she was embarrassed by it. Hermione was terrified that McGonagall would find out that she idolized her.
And that was why Hermione was anxious. She was nervous about returning to Hogwarts and seeing McGonagall. Seeing her professor, who would no longer like her. Who could have found some other student to devote all that time and attention to. Hermione tried to convince herself that she was being unreasonable, but that sliver of doubt grew quickly without something to prove it false.
In a matter of days, Hermione was reduced to a nervous wreck. She recounted all the stupid things she had said and done the year before. She played all types of scenarios through her mind. Excuses as to why her courseload was so much lighter, or how she might ask for animagus lessons. Or even to ask to have tea like they had done on a few occasions during her 3rd Year.
Jean Granger was concerned for her daughter. She noticed that Hermione was smiling less, and that meals were now a silent affair. One morning, she finally asked her daughter what was troubling her.
"I'm just nervous about school," Hermione answered matter-of-factly.
"You've never been nervous about school, dear. In fact, you're always excited around this time, and you just can't wait for class to start." Jean replied. She sipped her coffee and looked at Hermione sympathetically. "Please tell me what's troubling you. I'm your mother for Pete's sake, this is what I'm here for." Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Jean Granger looked at her daughter, her face displaying a combination of sympathy, curiosity, and concern.
After a moment, Hermione exhaled, "There's this professor, mum." Hermione looked at her hands.
Jean Granger smiled lopsidedly at her daughter, "And you're nervous that, when you come back to school, you won't have the same sort of mentor-student relationship that you had last year?" Hermione nodded. "Well, when I was about your age, I had an English teacher who I absolutely adored. Mrs. Phillips was her name. She had this horrible sardonic sense of humor and she was quite strict, but she was never cruel and gave each of her students a chance. She never let anyone fall through the cracks. Sometimes, I ate lunch in her room, and we talked about the books we were reading, or movies and such. She made me feel so special, and therefore I craved her attention. I thought she was absolutely wonderful, and I was distraught when the year was over. I didn't know what would come of the bond we had developed over the course of the school year. When I came back to school after summer holidays, I was so nervous to set foot back in her room. Unlike you, our teachers changed every year, so it was about a week until I visited Mrs. Phillips. She was busily grading papers, and I stepped in, absolutely bright red in the face from nervous embarrassment." Hermione smiled at her mother and laughed softly. "Horrible, I know," Jean beamed reassuringly at her daughter, "After some initial awkwardness, it was back to the way it had been. If I hadn't been so nervous, it probably wouldn't have been so uncomfortable for the two of us. I ended up grading papers for her my senior year. It's been a long time since I've seen her, but she was a truly lovely lady." Jean sighed with a faraway look in her eyes. "So this professor of yours...?"
Hermione blushed, "Well, I think you about summed it up there mum."
Jean nodded at her daughter, and gave her a comforting pat on the hand. "Have you considered picking up a hobby to take your mind off of it, dear?"
Hermione hadn't thought of that. "Like what? I can't draw, or play a musical instrument, and we don't have any dogs."
"Well, when I was your age, I used to run," Jean offered.
"RUN?" Hermione said incredulously. Jean nodded.
"It's great to get your mind off things and improve your mood. I ran all the time when I was a teenager. Kept me out of trouble"
"But mum, you know that I'm horrible at sports."
Jean chuckled, "Who do you think you got it from?" Hermione laughed. "No athletic ability required sweetheart. We've got a couple weeks before school starts. How about we go get you some shoes today, and we can go out to that wonderful park across the street. If you don't enjoy yourself, I will not force you to continue. And you can get wonderful muscle tone from running." Hermione laughed and playfully swatted her mother. Her friends used to call her Twiggy when she was younger, and, although she had gotten over it, she was still slim and wiry.
Hermione couldn't argue with her mother, and went with her to the sporting goods store later that afternoon. Hermione's mother purchased a pair of trainers, a few pairs of shorts and sports bras, ankle socks, and a sports watch for her.
About two hours later, Hermione finally got up the courage to go off to the park. After brief instructions on using her watch, some nervous arguing, and a lot of encouragement from her mother, Hermione left to go running. She was faster than she had realized. Once she felt like it had been a decent amount of time, she checked her watch. It had only been five minutes. However, Hermione hadn't started hating it yet, so she kept going. After 35 minutes of running, Hermione was sweating hard and decided to call it quits.
"So did you enjoy yourself?" Jean Granger asked as Hermione entered the house. Hermione nodded and flopped onto the cool marble. Jean handed her a glass of water, which she took gratefully. "If you get too hot, you can take your shirt off and slide it through the straps of your sports bra." Hermione's eyes widened with shock. "Or not. You just look quite overheated. Remember to stretch, sweet." Hermione nodded and took another generous gulp of water.
"Can I go again tomorrow? But maybe around the block and downtown or something?The park was quite boring." Jean beamed at her daughter.
"Of course, just be careful of cars. Stop your watch when you get to traffic lights." Jean Granger lightly ruffled Hermione's hair and went upstairs. Hermione pulled off her shoes, stretched, and took a refreshing shower.
The next morning, Hermione woke up at 6, got out the door at 6:30, and ran for 30 minutes before deciding to return home. She ran for 1 hour, 10 minutes, and 27 seconds that day. This continued until August 30th, two days before Hermione would return to school. "Mum?" Hermione called up to her mother from her room. No answer. "MUM?" she shouted.
"Yes dear?" Jean Granger walked halfway down the stairs so she wouldn't have to shout.
"DO YOU THINK I SHOULD BRING MY RUNNING CLOTHES?"
"Dear, I'm right here." Jean stepped into Hermione's line of sight.
"Sorry Mum." Hermione giggled.
"It wouldn't hurt to bring them. Go ahead and take them if you've got space." Hermione shrugged. Because she had fewer textbooks for the year, she had space for her running clothes with room to spare.
Harry was describing Dudley's new school uniform. "...and the HAT!" Harry burst out laughing. "Dear god the hat was hilarious. It made him look like he belonged with Mary Poppins, and those bloody dancing penguins." Ron looked confused as Hermione and Harry burst out in hysterical laughter.
"Is Mary Poppins some muggle thing?" Ron asked slightly accusingly. Hermione nodded.
"It's a kid's movie," she answered. "It was one of my favourites when I was younger. Basically, Dudley's hat looks like a pancake with a brim." Ron chuckled at that.
"So how was your August, 'Mione?" Harry asked as the tea trolley wheeled up to the compartment.
After Ron had purchased 2 containers of Bertie Bott's, 4 chocolate frogs, and a pumpkin juice, and after Harry had purchased 2 chocolate frogs and a container of Bertie Bott's, Hermione purchased a chocolate frog and a licorice wand
Hermione tore off a chunk of the licorice wand and answered, "It's been good. Once I calmed down about what happened at the World Cup, it was good. I tried running. I like it a lot."
"RUNNING?" Ron looked at her incredulously, and she could only nod at him.
"My mum suggested it to keep me from getting too stressed," Hermione began,
"Smart woman," Harry interjected. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, then continued,
"Anyway, I found that I quite like it. Hopefully I'll be able to do it at Hogwarts."
"Well, you could always try Quidditch Hermione. Quidditch is stress-relief too, you know." Ron joked.
"Well, I prefer to have my feet on the ground, Ron." Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry chuckled. Hermione could not help but smile at Ron and Harry's reactions. They were the best friends she could ever have.
"Hey! I got a McGonagall." Harry slid the Chocolate Frog trading card to Hermione, who looked at him quizzically. "I've already got one, and she's your favorite teacher." Hermione inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that Harry didn't know about her near fanatical obsession with her professor. Hermione took the card and slid it into one of the inner pockets of her bag.
"Eh, I got a Helga Hufflepuff," Ron grunted and tore open a second frog. Hermione took another bite of her licorice wand and took out her tattered paperback of Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Darcy had just handed Elizabeth his letter, and Hermione was absolutely dying to know what it said. "Hermione, is that a muggle novel?"
"Uh, yeah, why?"
"I dunno, usually, you'd be reading a textbook or something. Or a giant pamphlet on some transfiguration theory. not a muggle novel." Ron spit the words out like a pepper flavored Bertie Bott.
"Ron's got a point actually. Why the novel, Granger?" Harry teased, but smiled to show Hermione that he was only joking.
"I've already read through most of my textbooks for the year, and, muggle or not, Jane Austen is a fantastic writer." Hermione retorted.
"I'm actually glad you're reading a novel Hermione," Harry encouraged. "I'm happy that you're reading something you really enjoy. Hopefully, this year will be better. Less stressful and such." Hermione nodded. She shared the hope of her friends that things would be alright.