Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd probably be mobbed by outraged fans who are really ticked off at how slowly I write! Plus, I wouldn't kill Sirius Black…

AN: As you will no doubt hear any number of times from me, I'm so sorry about the delay in posting. I could give you a bunch of excuses about real life kicking me in the butt, which would all be true, but you aren't really interested in that. So rather, I will say thanks to everyone for their reviews, specifically Raspberri13, Rane2920072, and as always, the incomparable BrennaM. Oh, and I apologize up front, it's really hard to try and channel a slightly dotty, but brilliant 150 year old wizard...

It was dark, the stone corridors absorbing the light from the torches rather than reflecting it to afford her more than the barest amount of visibility. She would have used a Lumos spell to increase the light, but she was feeling too run-down to make the effort. So far, she'd encountered Peeves teasing Mrs. Norris and chased a handful of third years out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, interrupting a prank in progress, involving dungbombs and some sort of Wizarding firework that she vaguely recognized as a Weasley Wheeze product. Peeves was ignored, the mischief makers were escorted back to their common room with the promise that their head of house would receive notice of their activities and likely result in a detention since most teachers were reluctant to dock house points from their own students. They groaned, which she resented. It wasn't like she'd spent ten minutes and told them off or anything, not that THAT particular action would have done any good.

She almost thought she was losing her touch, but counseled herself that it was simply a matter of choosing one's battles. It could have been worse, at least she didn't have to worry about stumbling across the Weasley twins' antics. Anyone else paled by comparison when attempting to imitate their particular brand of mayhem. Still, it wouldn't due to let down her guard, and it would be in her best interests to finagle a list of the products that the Weasley brothers offered. Perhaps she could get Ron or Ginny to help her in that respect since the twins delighted in winding her up, much in the same manner that they had Percy.

Percy…He still hadn't come down from his pedestal, despite the Ministry's position on Voldemort's return, or so Ron said, in slightly less polite terms. Mrs. Weasley was still rather upset about his lack of desire to return to the fold, and Hermione could only guess what that filial betrayal would do to the family in the end. In some twisted way, it put her in the mind of Wormtail; for all that Percy wasn't trusted with any life threatening secrets, unless cauldron thickness had suddenly become of the utmost security. The only silver lining for Molly had been the fact that she laid a thick guilt trip on Fred and George about their NEWTs, and wrangled an agreement from each of them to sit in on the testing this year in order for them to prove that they were capable of scoring better than their wayward brother and thus secure her blessing in their dubious business venture. The delight of sibling rivalry at it's best, not that she really knew what it was like. Harry was probably the closest thing she had, or would ever have to a brother, Ron being a close second in spite of the fact that he had more kin than he knew what to do with.

She yawned, checking behind a suit of armor housed in a dark nook in order to verify that no one was out of bed and hiding after hours. It'd been a hard transition switching to the schedule that Marietta had posted. She also suspected that the head girl might have revised the duty roster to put her on the last possible shift for not only the remainder of the current week, but for the next two as well. She also had to cover the earlier shifts that she had previously committed to when she switched, allowing that fellow prefects had made 'plans to study', a euphemism for snogging in a broom closet, and were unavailable to trade back. All that added up to one exhausted bookworm who was actually entertaining the notion of contacting the master pranksters for some ideas of how to get Marietta back, the only problem being that their strong point wasn't really in subtlety, and she didn't want to make her standing worse with the head girl.

She mused on the last prank the twins had pulled on her wondering if they had applied the color changing charm to each page of her book or if it was one charm for the entire book. She'd been rather shocked to find herself the center of attention the final evening that she was permitted to stay at Grimmauld. Of course, the boys had settled into their nightly game of chess and she'd, predictably, cracked open her treasured copy of Hogwarts, A History, reviewing the chapter focusing on the Founders. With each turned page, she'd hear a snicker or a stifled chuckle, but she ignored it. After several pages and the continued sounds of mirth, she looked up to confront whomever was causing the disruption, to find Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and Harry watching her. She'd wondered if her shirt was un-tucked or if she'd slopped on it during dinner, only to find that she was a brilliant shade of lime green. She resumed reading, withholding the explosion of temper that they were anticipating, and when she turned the page, noted that she changed from green to scarlet, and then orange on the next page.

In the end, her only response to the prank had been a raised eyebrow as she asked, "Shall I read aloud to you lot then?" Keeping reign on her indignation had been worth the looks of disbelief that passed between the twins at her rather anti-climactic reaction, which ultimately resulted in another round of laughter. Perhaps she could do something similar to one of Marietta's books, provided it was a single charm and not something she had to spell each page for. She'd have to hand it to Mrs. Weasley's troublesome children; even with only three OWLs apiece they were quite resourceful. Merlin help her if she ever admitted THAT out loud where they could hear.

But revenge on the head girl would not change the fact that she was stuck with the late shift, leaving her tired. She still had to cover a few more days of double duty, which she might be able to manage if Madam Pomphrey had any wit sharpening potions in the infirmary. At this rate, she'd be learning how to appreciate coffee for the caffeine content, though her mum and dad would remind her that the dark liquid was just as bad for staining teeth as cigarette smoke. And what in the world was she going to do over the Christmas holiday? She'd gotten an owl from them on Saturday letting her know that they were meeting her at Platform 9&3/4, their version of an edict from on high. There was no way for her to wiggle out of going home this year, which meant missing the sight of Ron and Harry first thing in the morning and their faces as they tried to be polite in thanking her for the presents she got them. It was a shame really; she was looking forward to watching them squirm a bit before giving them their real presents.

At least she had Defense against the Dark Arts tomorrow morning, and while she had to stay awake in the class, it was comforting to know that she would probably be able to execute whatever spell was being taught for the day with little thought. But then again, she really felt the need to talk to the Headmaster about restarting the DA or perhaps some private tutoring after classes to learn more advanced spell work. Unfortunately, it would probably take more time out of her study schedule when she was currently without the excess time in the first place. There were times that she wished she still had possession of a time turner, save that she was twice as exhausted for having squeezed a day and a half's worth of living into twenty-four hours, so perhaps that wasn't a viable solution, unless she was planning to have a twelve hour lay in, and there really wasn't a quiet enough location to hole up so that bit of fantasy was right out.

And still, there was the ever-present concern for Harry, who seemed to be getting better, sort of. He was still waking up at night, calling out a warning to Sirius, but after a few minutes, he was able to fall asleep again, hardly requiring her presence to sooth him anymore. Every so often, she'd catch sight of a smile curling his mouth, a gleam in his eye. She'd caught him re-reading the letter from Remus on many different occasions, and she knew he'd written back to their one-time professor. She wondered what Remus had made of her own note and what he would reply with, if he'd actually dig up a jinx to send to her or not.

Which brought her back to the current string of gossip. Apparently now the odds were three to one that she was seeing both Ron and Harry in some sordid little relationship. Granted, this was out of the Slytherin house, so she didn't pay it too much mind, but it still bothered her a bit. Perhaps she should distance herself from the boys for a while, and retreat into her studies, except she liked being around them, and they were bound to get into trouble if she wasn't around to help out. On the other hand, she could use the extra time to catch up on her sleep, perhaps sleep deep enough to remember the dream that kept tickling at the edge of her mind.

Hermione checked behind a few tapestries, a nook, and two classrooms, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Her thoughts were still swirling around, jumbling up into a mess that guaranteed a headache was in the making. A quiet shuffling and the sound of someone coughing reached her ears. She turned with a squeak, finding the headmaster sitting on the sill of a window, his half moon glasses reflecting the dim torchlight as they sat midway down the bridge of his nose.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," she managed to force out, "You surprised me."

"Indeed, Miss Granger? I must say that I'm surprised to find you here as well." She couldn't see his face clearly, especially since his mustache and beard shrouded much of it, but she thought she could hear some humor in his tone. "I'd rather thought Mr. Boot was scheduled…" She had the disconcerting feeling that he was sizing her up, seeing the dark circles she knew were under her eyes.

The old wizard was taking stock of the student before him. She was one of the brightest students to enter Hogwarts since the time of Tom Riddle, and perhaps even before that. He noted the smudges that were darker than the chocolate irises of her eyes; an uncharacteristic frown had pulled at the corners of her mouth as her mind turned over thoughts while he watched her patrol the corridor he was in. She seemed to be missing the bounce in her step, and it even appeared that her wild hair was a bit limp, reflecting the inner musings of the witch.

The portraits had alerted him to the fact that she had been making rounds not once but twice a night the past two days, tonight making the third occurrence. It seemed wise to have a talk with the sixth year before she collapsed under the strain of being overworked. While he avoided favoritism whenever possible, it was difficult not to have a marked interest in Miss Granger in general. Her relationship with the Boy-Who-Lived was something he also gave due attention to, knowing that many of her actions were done with his well being in mind. He made eye contact with the young girl in order to do what he often did with his students, brushing her mind to get an inkling of what was taking place inside her busy head.

Hermione Granger had always been an intriguing mind to touch, consisting of a flurry of thoughts. Often times she was mulling over a mix of homework, random facts gleaned from books, images of Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, memories of conversations and lists of plans. Her head was always busy, a neatly organized collective that he would liken to a ballroom of old, full of dancers moving independently, but still mingling, whirling and spinning, braking apart and reconnecting in a way that meshed to the music only she could hear. It was often difficult to recognize that she was a sixteen-year old girl. Tonight, instead of a choreographed waltz, he found the chaos of a mob, thoughts bleeding into each other and spiraling downward, fueled in large part by her physical fatigue. He withdrew, having succeeded in the glimpse he was after without violating her personal thoughts by probing for exact details.

"If I'm not mistaken, you already performed rounds at seven this evening. I must say I'm a bit confused to find you doing the eleven o'clock ones as well." His tone was soft and kind, like that of a grandparent, the same tone that often inspired confidences from his students.

Though she doubted that Albus Dumbledore had ever been confused in his tenure as headmaster, she satisfied his curiosity anyway. "I was made aware that my prior arrangements may have become an inconvenience to my fellow prefects, and that in all fairness, I should be taking the shifts I'm scheduled for instead of shirking the duty." Her tone was a bit flat, but she figured it was better than open resentment. "It turns out that Terry had plans for studying this evening and wasn't able to take the earlier shift, so I covered it. Least I could do when he's helped me out before." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

She watched him stand and straighten the hat on his head. He offered his arm in a gesture of chivalrous formality that had practically died out over the past fifty years, just one of the odd eccentricities that gave lie to the headmaster's true age. "Why don't you join me in my office for a few minutes. Perhaps we could persuade Dobby to bring us a few mugs of hot chocolate, or perhaps some warm milk if you'd prefer?"

"Sir, I wasn't… I mean, I hope I didn't give you the impression that I was complaining." Her mind raced, hoping that he didn't think she wasn't up to the task of being a prefect.

"No, Miss Granger, I would not accuse you of complaining." His eyes glinted with humor. "You seem to have a lot on your mind, and I thought a bit of conversation would be in order."

"B-but I have my rounds," she was torn between either refusing the headmaster, which would not be polite, or neglecting her duties, which wasn't an acceptable action either. "C-couldn't we talk while I made my rounds?" she offered tentatively, feeling like she was opposing his wishes. For some reason, she was always nervous around him initially, as though she would be found wanting in some regard be it intelligence or blood status or skill. He was considered the greatest wizard of the modern times after all, why would he take time to talk with her? Verifying that she was fully recovered from being petrified, or that she was recovered from the curse received at he ministry was one thing, explaining the laws concerning the use of time turners another, but tonight did not fit in either category.

"Despite all appearances to the contrary," he stated wryly, watching her flush in embarrassment, "I find that I'm a great deal older than I'd like to admit, and often feel the aches of age during the evening, particularly when the stone of the castle tends to keep the halls a bit too cool for my comfort."

"I'm sorry, I didn't consider…"

"My dear girl, you have no need to concern yourself, besides, I feel that this conversation would be better suited for the comfort of my office, away from prying ears."

She started to reiterate her need to complete the patrol, only to have him wave her off idly as they mounted the stairs circling to his office. "If anything untoward occurs, the portraits will send word, do not worry Hermione. Do you mind if I drop formality? Our conversation could become quite cumbersome if I am to continue with Miss Granger this and Miss Granger that…"

"O-of course Sir," she agreed, moving to take a seat in front of his desk, expecting him to move around and seat himself in the tall chair behind it.

"Now, instead of worrying about your rounds, I should think the question is rather whether you can be spared from your other responsibilities, don't you think? Oh, come, let's sit by the fire, we are not going to talk as headmaster and student tonight. If you will wait but a moment and I will floo the kitchen for some cocoa and biscuits."

She watched him drop a pinch of floo powder into the roaring flames, turning them green. He stuck his head in the fire, and Hermione pondered what other responsibilities Dumbledore had been referring to, hoping that there wasn't yet another task that she had to cram into her schedule that she had forgotten up until now. She was startled by his voice, snapping her back to present.

"Relax my dear, I was simply referring to the situation with your friend Mr. Potter." He eased himself back into a chintz armchair with a sigh.

Her brow furrowed, "You knew about that?" The lines of disbelief smoothed as she shook her head, "Of course you know about it, I shouldn't be surprised."

He nodded in agreement. "There are few things that go on within these walls that I am not aware of. Your efforts with Harry are very commendable. He is very lucky to have friends such as yourself and Mr. Weasley." He watched her flush from his praise. "And that circles very neatly back to the impact your absence from the common room might cause."

"I…er…" she paused to collect her scattered thoughts, feeling less than eloquent at the moment. "That is to say, Ron is keeping an eye, or rather and ear, open for Harry. He's…Harry that is; he's been resting easier the past few nights. He and Mr. Lupin have begun corresponding, which has helped considerably in easing Harry's mind. At this point, I'm probably not even needed," she finished in a self-deprecating tone.

"I doubt that very much Hermione. Do not make light of the relationship between Mr. Potter and yourself." He aimed a look over the rim of his glasses, trying to impress upon her the importance of his words.

"We're… It's not like that!" Her eyes widened at her vehemence, a hand clapping over her mouth.

The old wizard chuckled at her mortification. "No indeed. The connection between you, Harry and Ron is not merely a fickle connection fueled by teenage hormones to be broken and cast off at the first hint of strife. The three of you have stuck together despite your disagreements, much like a family would, save that this is the type of relationship that you choose, rather than being born into. And when you make those sorts of choices, accepting people into your life, people you hold most dear, it often creates bonds that are even stronger than blood ties. It can often drive a person to do everything within their power to protect one another." He paused thoughtfully, watching her absorb the meaning behind the statement.

A small pop signaled the arrival of a house elf. To her surprise it was Dobby. He still wore a tea-towel tied at the shoulders, but had accessorized it with a vertically striped purple sock on one foot and an orange and green spotted bootie on the other. Upon his head, he wore one of her earliest versions of a knit hat, which alternated between red, white and green horizontal stripes, and adding to the overall eyesore of the ensemble.

"Miss!" he squeaked, "Headmaster said he had a guest, but did not tell Dobby it was Miss."

"Hello Dobby, how are you?" she asked, taking the tray from the elf and setting it on a low table by the fire.

"Miss is most kind for asking. Dobby is well, thank you." Though seriously meant, it was difficult for her not to laugh at the stiff bow that accompanied his gratitude. "Would Miss tell Harry Potter that Dobby was most grateful for his visit last week?"

"Of course Dobby." She replied solemnly, wondering when Harry had found time to visit the kitchens.

Dobby turned back to the headmaster with a bow, which the wizard returned with a nod of the head. "Thank you Dobby, it looks simply delightful, are those the lemon curd biscuits on the tray?"

"Indeed Sir, Dobby remembered that they are the Headmaster's favorite."

"Splendid!" the old wizard said, and with a clap of his hands, the tray floated between the two chairs, within easy reach. "That will be all, good night Dobby."

"Good evening Sir…Miss." The house elf bowed before disappearing with another pop and a puff of smoke.

They each claimed a mug, sipping at the hot chocolate slowly, the headmaster taking a healthy bite of a biscuit before he continued the discussion. "Now that we are settled in, where were we?" He squinted thoughtfully into the fire. "Ah, yes, I am aware of Harry's nightmares, as well as your efforts to help him. If what you say about him resting easier is true, then Harry may come round sooner than I had expected, which is all to the good. He deserves time to grieve, naturally, but he also deserves time to live as well."

"H-headmaster, if you knew, why didn't you help?" she bit her lip. If he were Professor Snape, she'd have been in for a blistering lecture on her impertinence, but as it was Dumbledore, she hoped for an answer instead.

The old wizard sighed, his head drooping a bit. "Up until last year, I had done what I thought was best for Harry, trying to protect him, but not explaining my motives. I'm sure he's related our discussion at the end of term last year, and why my actions ended up being something of a folly. Since that night, I've tried, where possible, to allow Harry the freedom to make his own choices, rather than have me push them upon him. Some rules he does have to abide by, such as spending a few days with his relatives, as distasteful as that may seem to him. Others, I can let him have leeway in. Rather than interfering in his personal grief and forcing a 'remedy' on him under the guise of his own good, I allowed him to choose his own path for healing. I despaired a bit to find that he avoided Lupin over the summer, I had thought that it would be natural for him to turn to the last person that was closest to not only his godfather, but his parents as well. Instead of coming to me for assistance, he has turned to his peers, yourself and Ron, not to mention this belated connection with Remus. That is a telling action about Harry and his regard for his friends." He sipped at his beverage, allowing her time to come up with her next query.

Hermione thought about her relationship with Harry. There was very little she would not do for him, and many of the things she would do, he would not ask, which made her want to do them even more. He never imposed on their friendship, except where homework was concerned in prior years. She concluded that there was just something about him, whether they were bickering, laughing, sad or in trouble, he was always there for her and Ron, and she was there for him whenever possible. If her parents had been able to have other children, she wondered if she would have had a brother, and whether she would feel as close to her sibling as she did to Harry. In thinking about her parents, even fleetingly, her mind made a connection.

"Sir, with V-Voldemort being back, d-do you think that my parents might be in danger? I-I mean they are muggle, but I'm afraid," she shifted her gaze from her cup to her feet, shifting in the chair. "It's just that right now some completely unfounded gossip is going round about Harry and me and I know that some of the Slytherins are probably writing home, so if they wanted to, it wouldn't be hard to stir up more emotional stress by targeting the families of muggle born students?" She looked up, eyes wide with fear at the possibility, her parents were all she had, and she couldn't let anything happen to them.

"We have all ready taken care of that," he assured her gravely. "The Ministry has sent out letters to the muggle parents of witches and wizards, detailing the threat Voldemort poses. The Minister has also created a task force of aurors to maintain surveillance in the evenings, which has been Tom's favorite time to attack in the past, I don't see him changing his tactics yet. I know that doesn't sound like much, but for most muggle families, it is more than adequate. The Order, thankfully, is independent of the Ministry for all that we have agents who work within the institution in order to garner information in a timely manner. I will trust your discretion with that information, though I have a feeling we will be inducting you and your friends when you come of age and finish your education." He smiled briefly before continuing his explanation. "For the few homes that contain families who may be of special interest for the Death Eaters to target, 24 hour protection has been established by the Order. Your family is one such, which means that your parents are as safe as anyone can be while we teeter on the edge of war."

War…the word lingered between the two of them, teenager and adult. For the elder, it conjured visions of victims in a generation past, some due to Voldemort, many more due to the battle with Grindelwald when he was fifty years younger. For the younger, it was an epiphany of the times to come. The 'battle' at the Ministry of Magic was barely even a skirmish by comparison to the things the Dark Lord would be capable of doing. She and Ron hadn't even been with Harry during the concluding moments of that night. She'd been knocked unconscious by a silent curse, and the brains had tangled Ron up rendering him useless…

"We aren't going to be ready," she mumbled to herself, realizing that her eyes had fallen shut as she fell into her memories. For all that she had passed all her OWLs, that Harry and Ron had gotten 'O's in Defense, none of them were really prepared for war. Not the type of war that someone like Tom Riddle was prepared to wage, they had never come face to face with what a real war could do. Magic was just as deadly to the masses as a muggle gun or bomb. She opened her eyes to find the headmaster's steady regard focused on her, a look of bittersweet satisfaction that she grasped the morbid implication of the situation.

"Harry shared the prophesy, well rather, both of the prophesies with us. If it's true that Voldemort's power is going to be stronger than ever, and if it's going to come down to Harry verses that evil git…" she trailed off, trying to find words that weren't offensive when one was speaking of a teacher. "Professor Pinderton is a very good instructor, it's just that we aren't going to learn what we need to know. It's been a bit of an issue lately since we know most of the things she's instructing us for, but really we need to know more. We have to be exposed to the dark magic that Voldemort would use. The sorts of things that Mr. Moody was to teach us." The words came tumbling out. Thankfully she stopped herself before the sarcastic comment about Voldemort putting his war on hold for three years while they completed auror training had been voiced, but she had the sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore knew her thoughts anyway. She hoped he didn't mind her candor on the matter, especially since he probably didn't need her lecturing about preparedness for a war.

"Unfortunately, Mad-Eye is busy with Order business, things that I will not discuss with you until you are of age. And were he to be free, he's developed a bit of a dislike for Hogwarts, particularly due to the lack of one's freedom to apparate to safety when needed. A good number of Order members are keeping guard over muggle households, but I may be able to find a suitable mentor." He deliberated for a few moments, "Yes, I do believe that would be a nice tidy answer to that situation indeed." He'd seemed to almost forget Hermione's presence. "Give me a week or two, and I may have the resolution to that particular problem."

Hermione opened her mouth to comment, only to find a yawn in the place of words. "Excuse me," she apologized. "It's late, and I missed my customary nap after dinner."

Dumbledore waved off her excuse, "Not at all, I understand, youth still requires adequate rest while the elderly seem to get on fine with less and less, though I daresay the aching joints and gray hair are not an equal trade to the additional hours one gains. Perhaps it would be best for you to head off to bed."

"One last thing, though curiosity did kill the kneazle. Why haven't you had Harry work on Occlumency again?"

The wizard drained off the last drops of his cocoa, a slight look of regret crossing his face before disappearing beneath the façade of a kindly old man. "I fear that Harry's relationship with Professor Snape is such that neither one of them would come out the victor upon interaction. The professor has a bit of bias against your friend which at this time, renders his teaching methods more harsh than is practical." She managed to contain a snort at the understatement. He continued, "I fear that Harry has inherited his father's temperament which renders him, if you will excuse the pun, too close-minded to learn the skill from our Potions Professor." He smiled lightly.

"What about you? Can you not teach him?"

"I could, but there in again, Harry is a little resentful towards me for my keeping him in ignorance. I confess that I've also found myself dreadfully busy with trying to keep up with you children here at the school. We still have a bit of time yet, and I suspect that he will come to me when he is ready and suitably open to learning the skill."

"Do…" she started to ask, then closed her mouth with a snap.

"Go on, what is it Hermione?"

"Do you think Professor Snape would consent to teach me?" she could barely believe she was asking this, but the headmasters words came ringing back to her 'drive a person to do anything within their power'.

Dumbledore leveled his gaze at her, steepling his fingers together as he contemplated her request, his smile hidden by his hands, though the blue in his eyes seemed to twinkle. "Do you really have the time for that Hermione?"

"I can make time for it Sir. It's an important skill, it would be beneficial to learn." She replied with all seriousness.

"I do not dispute the sentiment, however you are still taking a larger class load than most students bar a few Ravenclaws. Most of your peers have dropped a class or two to allow time to study and specialize on their NEWT classes."

"I did drop Divination and Muggle Studies," she pointed out.

"I believe it was so you would have time for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy." This was pointed out dryly.

She thought to the book she'd checked out two weeks before. Granted, she hadn't done more than skim through the pages, but there were some interesting theories inside. She had a feeling she would need both branches of study at some point in her nebulous future. Besides, while she had planned on becoming an auror after seventh year, she'd likely give it up when she slowed down physically. While she wasn't vain, she didn't want to end up looking like Mad-Eye Moody when she couldn't dodge a wayward curse. And she had given some serious thought to being an Unspeakable if the auror career path didn't pan out.

"I'll need those classes," she replied, "I want to keep my options open."

"You understand that you will still continue to attend classes with Professor Pinderton to avoid any unwanted attention from less than desirable sources. Even if I find a suitable mentor, it would be best to keep this quite and discreet. If we can keep Riddle from learning what skills Harry is developing, it would be to Harry's advantage."

"All the more reason to learn Occlumency. He'll have to learn it to keep Voldemort from seeing." She nearly started to plead for permission.

"With your current class load, I will not encourage it." He said watching her slump in defeat. His next words caused her to perk up again. "I will not discourage it either. It is for Professor Snape to decide, and for you to make your case to him. Remember that secrecy is of the utmost importance." He made sure she acknowledged all the stipulations connected with this new course of study. "Given your history with the time turner three years ago, I know I can trust you to be tactful, but you will have to work out the details with him. I daresay that an excuse like remedial potions will not work in your situation."

She nodded, thinking that it was an end to their conversation that evening. "Yes sir, thank you."

"And Hermione?" she turned away from the door to look in his direction. "Do consider dropping at least one of your classes before NEWT year. It is important to recognize when you take on too many tasks before you burn yourself out. You will still be the brightest witch of your age if you drop Astronomy or Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh but Hagrid would be upset if I dropped his class. I could never…" she protested before it struck her that the headmaster was only making a suggestion. "I'll consider it, but for now, I'll keep the classes I have." She yawned again.

"I think it's time for you to go, straight off to the dorms with you. No adventures along the way. And take some of the biscuits with you, in case you oversleep and miss breakfast." He levitated some cookies her way with a flick of his hand. "Off with you now. Good night."

"Good night Sir, and thank you."

"My door is always open if you are in need my dear." She heard his words as the door closed behind her with a thump. She wondered, as she descended the stairs, if she could persuade him to teach her wandless magic, then dismissed the notion with a chuckle, knowing that she had enough on her plate as it was. But maybe… if she dropped Astronomy like he suggested… Then growled at herself, making her way up to the seventh floor so that she could go to bed.

AN2: Poor Hermione, her mind was all ready jumbled up and now there's this... It will get better for her... I think... Review!