This is a one-off piece that I've written that's a bit more serious than most of the other stuff I've done. It's still not particularly dark but there is some language in it. I do not own the rights to the HP universe.

"I'm done with this bullshit."

Hermione Granger glared at Professor Dumbledore with a fire that would have caused a lesser wizard to flee. The seventeen year old Gryffindor prefect then angrily dropped her wand on the headmaster's desk, then more gently placed a white sealed envelope next to it.

Dumbledore vainly tried to calm down the fuming girl. "Miss Granger, please, think before you do anything rash… you're smarter than this."

Hermione angrily wagged a finger at the headmaster. "I'm smart enough to see through the bullshit, Professor. You've deceived everyone. You have USED my best friend since his parents died. How could you sleep at night knowing that Harry's so-called 'family' abused, mocked, and deprived him each and every day? And when the time came to start his formal wizard training here at Hogwarts, you only planned to use him as a one-time torpedo with a specific purpose. You never truly cared about Harry's well-being." She rolled her eyes. "All for the greater good," she said in a husky, mocking tone.

"For the record, young lady, I have cared deeply for Harry. There are things beyond your ken that necessitated my decisions," the professor replied.

"Don't you patronize me, Professor," Hermione responded through gritted teeth. "I'm not a puerile child. I am Hermione fucking Granger. I can put the pieces of the puzzle together. You could have easily let Harry stay with my family, or with the Weasleys – and I won't even bring what happened to poor Ron and Ginny – may they rest in peace – but if you honestly thought that there wasn't another way to keep Harry sheltered from the Dark One without having to spend so many miserable summers with those vile creatures that you call his aunt and uncle, you're either a liar or a fool. Or perhaps both. I'm through talking to you, Professor. Open the bloody envelope already." Her lip quivered as she finished, as tears started spilling down her cheeks. "For the record, I love Harry – as a friend, and maybe even more. He is so much more than the boy-who-lived, and you were just too bloody stubborn to ever see beyond that."

The skirt of Hermione's grey wool suit swished as she turned around, with her laced-up black and cream spectator heels clacking on the floor as she stormed out of Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore slowly reached out a hand to grab the envelope Hermione left on his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a magical device that looked like a letter opener. He ran the blade of the device over the letter, and the envelope magically unsealed itself. A neatly, triply-folded piece of parchment plopped on his desk.

Dumbledore studied the letter before him, carefully written in black quill ink:

"Professor Dumbledore,

Due to recent revelations, I feel it necessary to withdraw from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The decision is entirely mine, and it is final. I have much to be grateful for – I have made some dear friends here, both from faculty and the student body, but I will not continue to be a pawn in your game of four-dimensional chess. I will be asking Professor McGonagall to cast a Obliviate spell on me, and escort me to the Hogsmeade Station so I can live out the rest of my days as a Muggle. Do what you will with my wand, I will not be needing it from this point forward.

Hermione J. Granger,

Gryffindor Prefect"

Dumbledore sighed. "I need to floo Minerva right away," he thought. He grabbed the letter and bolted for the fireplace. He sprinkled some floo powder as he chanted "Professor McGonagall's office". With a puff of green smoke, he disappeared.

A moment later, Professor McGonagall's floo lit up, followed by the visage of Professor Dumbledore.

"Albus!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. She saw the look of concern in Dumbledore's eyes, a look she didn't see very often.

"Here, Minerva, I think you should take a look at this," Dumbledore said as he handed Minerva the letter Hermione wrote. Professor McGonagall quickly read over the letter, her face turning a ghastly shade of white.

"Miss Granger is likely making her way over to my office right now," she declared. "If you truly care about her, you'll let me handle this."

"I care deeply for Miss Granger," admitted Dumbledore. He reached into the sleeve of his robe and produced Hermione's wand, as he handed it over to Minerva. "I have always trusted you completely and unconditionally, Minerva. If there's anyone in this school that can get her to change her mind, it's you. She trusts you. She. Trusts. You."

"Albus, she is a brilliant young witch. As her head-of-house, I've always looked out and cared for her, but honestly, I've come to adore the child like she was my own granddaughter. Right now, she's hurt, angry, and vulnerable. Her confidence in you is shaken, but she does not despise you. I really think all she needs some… feminine advice. If you'll excuse me, I'll go ahead and get a spot of tea going. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Good day, Professor."

"Good day, Professor," Dumbledore said with a nod. "And I thank you." And as quickly as he entered, he flooed back to his office.

Several minutes later, the professor heard a knock on the door. It didn't take a transfigurations professor to know who it was. "Come in, child," she purred warmly.

"I'm so sorry, my child," Professor McGonagall said quietly while gently embracing the distraught Hermione. She took note of the younger witch's perfectly-pressed suit, well-manicured hands, her French-braided hair and what must have been previously perfectly-applied makeup, but now a rather smeared mess. "You look very lovely today, dear. Out of uniform, but lovely nonetheless." She smiled as she wiped the tears from Hermione's cheeks. Hermione smiled weakly as she whispered, "thank you."

"Would you like a bit of tea? The kettle is on now, should be ready momentarily," the professor offered.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione replied, still sniffling slightly. "I think I will take you up on your offer."

Professor McGonagall smiled. "The Headmaster and I had a little chat earlier. He agreed to let me handle this personally, so he will not have any further say in the matter." Suddenly, the shrill whistle of the tea kettle indicated that the water was sufficiently hot enough for the tea bags to steep.

As the professor placed two bags of hibiscus tea into some exquisite tea cups made of fine china and began to let them steep, she chuckled. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned something about you using some particularly foul language in his presence. He was quite shocked, to say the least. He said that was very out of character for you."

Hermione blushed. "I don't curse, unless I feel threatened or particularly passionate about something… or someone," placing slightly extra emphasis on the someone.

Professor McGonagall gave Hermione a knowing smile. "That someone, is a special person indeed, if it is whom I think it is. You love him, don't you?"

Hermione began tearing up again. "Yes. Yes, very much so. He's my best friend, we've been through everything together. Everything."

"I remember seeing you two together as first-year students, wide-eyed and full of wonder," the professor chuckled. "Oh, I do take it that you would like a splash of milk in your tea? And how many sugars?"

"Yes, please," Hermione answered. "Three sugars, please." The professor then gently stirred the teacups and offered a cup and a matching saucer to the younger witch.

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione.

"You may call me Minerva in private, if you'd like," offered the professor.

"No promises," Hermione said with a giggle. Calling her house-head Minerva just sounded a little awkward to her. She grew to love her professor like an extra grandmother, but still respected the position she held.

Professor McGonagall just smiled at Hermione. "And from what I gather, Harry is quite fond of you as well." Hermione nodded whilst taking a small sip of her piping-hot tea.

"If it means anything to you, I have advocated on Harry's behalf since he was but a wee child, not much more than a year old. I begged Professor Dumbledore to reconsider the placement of the boy, but he was insistent that he stay with those dreadful Dursleys. They may be his only living relatives, but I have spent the day studying those… those… Muggles. They were so awful, they'd make even a Slytherin wizard wince. If the circumstances were different, he would have been raised by Sirius. That poor man was done wrong in so many ways. As Sirius was his godfather, he could have provided Harry both love and a real sense of family, neither of which the Dursleys could be bothered to give."

Hermione gently placed the cup and saucer on the end table next to her seat, and got up and gave Professor McGonagall a warm hug. "That means the world to me, Professor. Harry desperately deserves to be loved. It makes me sick to my stomach knowing that poor boy had so much love to give, yet he never experienced it himself. I wish I told him that I loved him earlier. Even if it's just platonic love."

"And do you now love him as more than a friend?" Professor McGonagall inquired.

The tears again fell freely on Hermione's cheeks. "Absolutely," she admitted. "Yes, I loved Ron. But I never felt so helpless after finding out what the Death Eaters did to the Burrow this past summer." She then regained her composure. "I always loved Harry as a friend, but until recently, never anything more. But I have come to realize, that there's one thing that I felt with Harry that I never truly felt with Ron. I feel… safe. Nothing makes me feel safer than loving, and being loved by, Harry Potter. I can now honestly see myself being Mrs. Harry Potter. I don't care if we live a magical or muggle life, love is the most powerful magic there is."

The professor trilled in her light Scottish burr. "Hermione, my child, Harry does indeed love you. And you will hear it coming from his lips and not just mine. I promise."

Professor McGonagall continued. "And Harry is not merely a proton torpedo with a specific purpose. At the end of the day, he's still a boy. In a more perfect world, he ought to be worrying about finishing his potions homework, or about what color shirt he should wear on a date with the loveliest witch in the castle," she added with a chuckle, patting Hermione's hands.

"Now, do you still want to leave Hogwarts, my child? I know you were very angry earlier, but I really hope you'll reconsider. I need you. Harry needs you."

Hermione beamed. "Thank you, Professor. Go ahead and tear up my letter of withdrawal. Maybe it's the delicious hibiscus tea, but you've really helped me out today. Thank you."

"And here is your wand back, Hermione," said Professor McGonagall. "Now, about that pretty face of yours…" The professor produced her own wand, pointed it at Hermione's face and chanted "Pintatus opsum", restoring Hermione's makeup the way it was before her tears smeared it.

"I think you should head over to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer," Professor McGonagall said. "I'll have Harry excused from class momentarily, and have him meet you there. After all, it's not every day he sees you dolled up like this. The two of you need to have some time together to unwind. It'll be good for the both of you."

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione with a radiant smile. "I can go for a butterbeer right about now."