"Moooooooom!!! I'm HUNGRY!!!" a cheerful voice announced at the crack of dawn the next day. Knowing his mother would never wake just from the announcement, the owner of the voice shook her vigorously for good measure.

Hermione rolled over, trying to remember where she was, and it all came back to her; startled, she looked into the eyes of her son only inches away from hers, and noted wryly the amused smile he was wearing. How to explain this - looking at the man laying beside her, just stirring - to a six-year old?

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said. For a moment, she thought wonderingly at how easily speaking came to her now. She had Severus to thank for so many things, not the least of which was helping her to see that her life could be quite as it was before the accident. She had cut herself off so neatly, she had thought, but she had discovered her voice again.

James, still unaccustomed to speaking to his mother after growing up only using sign language, made the signs for his hunger pains. He then gestured towards his father, who was now awake and watching Hermione's mixed emotions about the situation with both amusement and sympathy.

"James," Severus said, "get dressed and I shall accompany you to breakfast."

"Okay, Dad," James said, skipping away. Hermione looked gratefully at Severus, and said, "I guess he's taking this development in his usual stride."

"Indeed," was Severus' only comment. "I'll look after his breakfast and walk to school. If I'm not very much mistaken, you'll have your work cut out for you this morning. Knowing how Black stalks you, I seriously doubt he is unaware that you did not return last night."

Hermione's only reaction was to sigh and kiss Severus' forehead, gather her robes around her, and disappear through the fireplace.

~*~

An amused Eleanor was waiting in the Headmistress' office. "Late night, darling?"

"Well..."

"Sirius was waiting for you till all hours."

"I don't have to explain anything to him." Hermione was just a tad annoyed, mostly at herself for being so weak as to not have ended Sirius' hopes before she rekindled old acquaintances. But she was suddenly becoming annoyed at Eleanor's extended and rather odd visit, though she couldn't put a finger on why that was.

"Hmmm...well, at any rate, our young man Thomas Riddle the Younger is following Sirius. One of the portraits that I've become friendly with saw this and let me know. I thought you might be able to use the information. And yes, I'm dying to know about where you were last night, but I won't pry. Just know that I'm here if you need me."

Hermione cocked one eyebrow. "You've never told me why, or how, you are here. Really."

"I'm wounded, Hermione," Eleanor said nervously. "I'm here to be with you, of course."

"Humph. I know full well that ghosts have to move heaven and earth, literally, to be able to travel away from their home areas. I know you said you called in a favor, but that seems pretty thin considering the strings that have to be pulled to make something like this happen for so long. Most spirits would have been forced to travel back home by now. What gives? I have a right to know."

"I had hoped you wouldn't ask, but I cannot lie to you." Eleanor looked genuinely remorseful, knowing full well how independent the Headmistress was and how upset her next words would make Hermione. "I've...er...it's a bit hard to explain, but your Spirit is keeping me here. You know how you haven't heard the Spirit inside you since you became Headmistress?" At Hermione's shocked look, the ghost continued, "The Spirit believed that you had stopped listening to her, but she knows well your feelings and objections to hearing voices in your head. It is not a good time to stop listening to the Gift you were given; so, she has taken up residence in a different form."

"You?" Hermione said incredulously. "You're a spirit that is possessed by another spirit? How is such a thing possible?"

Eleanor chuckled nervously, and said, "With God, all things are possible, they say. I'm not possessed, I'm still the ghost of Eleanor Roosevelt, but the Spirit's wishes are made known to me, and I communicate them with you as myself. Really, she saw that I have always had your best interests at heart. Hermione, I'm sorry..."

"I simply don't know who I'm talking to now - is it my old friend Eleanor, or that bitch of a Spirit who doesn't believe in free will and self-determination?" Hermione said coldly.

"Hermione," Eleanor said rather desperately, "It's just me. The Spirit is helping me stay, and in exchange, I remind you of what you already know so well..."

"Save it, El, I can't deal with one more supernatural mumbo-jumbo right now. I'm sorry," Hermione said in a somewhat less hostile tone, "I just need some time to digest this."

Eleanor Roosevelt was a great woman in her day, and the greatest women know when it's time to make a graceful exit. She simply vanished, leaving the Headmistress alone with her thoughts till midday.

Dobby entered. "Sirius Black is here mistress, to see you."

"Tell him I'm busy. Tell him anything..." She was in no mood and was feeling uncharacteristically muddle-headed.

Three minutes later, Dobby reappeared. "Sorry to bother you, Headmistress, but there is a student that is wanting to see you, miss, right outside."

"Who is it, Dobby? I'm not feeling particuarly up to company..."

"It's the Weasley first year, Headmistress...George Junior."

Hermione indulged a second's reminiscence about the boy's father and uncles, and wondered if the son would turn out more like Percy or like the Wonder Twins. "Send him in, and thank you very much for looking after me, Dobby."

"I is happy to look after my Mistress! And Dobby keeps her secrets, yes, even when Sirius Black tries to find out where my Mistress is last night, Dobby says..."

"That's quite enough, thank you so much Dobby," Hermione said. She wasn't sure why she was feeling so upset and irritated today, but it was catching up to her in waves. Maybe it was the night spent in the company of Tall, Dark, and Snarky.

George Weasley walked in, clearly intimidated by the room. "Sit down, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said. "May I help you?"

The young redhead nervously and visibly cleared his throat twice.

"Tea, Mr. Weasley?"

"Uh...no...well ma'am, it's about Errol." George fiddled with his robes, and looked down at his feet for a full minute.

"...your fellow Gryffindor first year..." Or Thomas Riddle, properly. Hermione was growing impatient despite herself, and mentally trying to brush away the beginnings of what was sure to be a whopper of a migraine. When had her day started to go downhill? She woke up next to a lover she had cherished greatly at one time, and in the company of her beloved son who was the child of the erstwhile lover. She was beginning to come to terms with her disability and had done far more in the past few years than she'd thought possible. Some days she forgot she even had a disability, because lipreading and speaking were becoming second nature - she could probably fool most people into thinking she wasn't hearing-impaired at all.

Yet, ever since Eleanor's confession, she'd felt as if she were in a spiral of manipulation, deceit, and confusion that threatened to be almost as thick as the Order of the Phoenix's manipulation of Harry in their fifth year. She needed to clear her head desperately, but had to hear the Weasley boy out first.

"He was...talking in his sleep...last night," George said haltingly.

"Mr. Weasley, my boy, your father was far more gregarious than this...there is no need to be intimidated by me. What did Errol say?"

"I couldn't make it all out, but it was mostly about Voldemort, power, and revenge. Those words came through clearly."

"And?" Hermione said, "You would have gone to your Head of House if you didn't think it was important enough to come up here, right?" The headache was beginning to overcome any ability to be tactful, but she struggled to try again. "Go on, son."

"I...I believe that Voldemort...that Errol's dream was that he was working for Voldemort against you. He said, at one point..." trailing off to breathe, "He said..."

Hermione could sense the nervousness increasing through her fog. "It's all right, Mr. Weasley, whatever he said won't shock me."

"...filthy Mudblood bitch, we'll make her pay, won't we Thomas? Black is the key." George's face was seven shades more crimson.

Hermione rubbed her temples. "Mr. Weasley, you've done me a great favor by telling me about Errol's dreams. You've confirmed what we have been dreading. And now, I'd like to ask you for two additional favors."

George nodded, a hint of worry flashing across his eleven-year-old face as he looked at the Headmistress. She looked in great pain, and her eyes were turning an alarming shade of red.

"One - if anything else unusual happens with Errol, keep me informed. And continue to be his friend, George...he will need friendship, I suspect, and he probably has never had real friends before. Secondly...run and fetch Madam Pomfrey...I should think I..." With those words, the Headmistress lost consciousness and collapsed.

*~*

Sirius Black was staring at the ceiling, rather than getting ready for class.

He'd cancelled all his classes since he'd had the visitor that morning. He couldn't recall the visitor's name, but for the first time in months Sirius was happy. Joyful, really, and floating on air.

He had a purpose. He'd taken the first step.

"Sirius...oh, Sirius, something's happened, are you there?" Remus Lupin's head was in the fireplace.

Sirius shook off his dreamy expression. "Remus, what is it?"

"Headmistress is in the infirmary...unconscious..."

"Say no more, I'm on my way," Sirius said. After Remus was out of the fireplace, Sirius smirked.

Serves the bitch right.