Here we go again ;)

5. Clarifying discussions and a personal note

She ran through the pouring rain towards the garage, where all the "Muggle artifacts" Arthur had collected throughout his adult life were stored. She pushed open the gate and slid to a stop inside the room.

In the back corner she saw old, rusty bicycles and shabby fridges. A couple of televisions were piled on top of each other and were dusty.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, tired and angry.

Why didn't these idiots want to go to school anymore? How did they get the silly idea not to graduate?

That was crazy!

She slammed one of the blenders off a board. Unable to do anything else, she leaned on the shelf from which she had yanked the blender, panting.

Tears gathered in her eyes. They started to burn and Hermione squeezed them so as not to start crying.

Suddenly she heard a sound behind her. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Ron, who opened the garage door even further and carefully stepped towards his girlfriend.

Shortly before, however, he stopped and bent down to pick up the thrown blender. Without blaming Hermione for ruining his father's precious relics, he stopped in front of her completely.

"Hermione," he said tormented. "Please do not be mad at me."

He went over to an old washing machine and sat on its large counter. He knocked invitingly next to him and Hermione reluctantly followed his silent request.

"Look, I know you love studying facts, reading old books and listening to the professors. But I am not like that. I don't like the dusty classrooms. I don't like the way they talk up high or how they look down on us when we haven't answered a question to their satisfaction."

He looked at his fingertips, which he had curled up.

"Since we were on our own for the last school year, I knew for sure. I want to work practically; I want to get out and not just sit for hours on uncomfortable chairs and open book page after book page. "

His gaze lifted and he looked deep into her eyes.

"Understand me, I can't go back. Not after everything that happened there! "

Hermione's eyes closed involuntarily. Grief sloshed from her memory in thundering waves into her consciousness.

"Ron," she whispered. "We shouldn't be afraid of a place. I've lost a lot of friends too. And for me Fred was family, too, but...", she fell silent when Ron - as if he hadn't listened to her - interrupted her:

"Come with us! Do an apprenticeship at the ministry and we can start a whole new life."

He looked at her hopefully and full of conviction.

Hermione wanted, she wanted so badly to say yes and just move on. But she felt deep inside her that something important was waiting for her at Hogwarts. Education, knowledge and more, much more. She just felt it!

That's why she turned a little further to her boyfriend and carefully grabbed his cheek with her hand. It felt stubbly, unshaven and sharp-edged. Somewhat uncomfortable, she thought.

She began to speak quietly and sadly: "Ron, I ... I can understand you. Somehow…

Even if I don't approve of the fact that you don't want to graduate. "

She swallowed.

"But that doesn't apply to me. As you said: I love Hogwarts! I really want to go back and help rebuild the castle. I want to go back to the library and smell the old dusty books, visit Hagrid and yes, sit in class with McGonagall again..." She started to smile slightly as Ron twisted his mouth skeptically. "I will graduate and then go to university."

She looked uncertainly at Ron's face, which had contracted during her words. Just as she couldn't fully understand his motives, he now didn't seem to understand her at all.

"But Hermione," he began now in protest. "Why are you making it so difficult for yourself? It would be so much easier for you at the ministry and we could be together. Doesn't that appeal to you at all? "

The addressed one sighed softly and whispered: "Yes, of course it is delightful. But I feel that I have to go back. My time there isn't over yet. And I wish that you respect that, just as I accept your decision. "

Her gaze was serious and Ron seemed to understand that he - like she - could not dissuade her from the decision that had already been made. So, after a while which passed in complete silence, he took the plunge and nodded.

"Good," Hermione whispered, smiling. "We can see each other on the weekends. McGonagall will surely allow you to visit me! "

Ron snorted. "I'm not sure about that. She is reluctant to let her lion cub out of her paws" and he began to grin mischievously.

Hermione smiled relievedly and was happy that her friend could finally feel some happiness again.

Their eyes met and before she knew it, their mouths did the same as their eyes.

The great Hogwarts tower clock ticked loud and heavy through the nightly castle. It had just been magically installed again and Minerva had to admit that she could have done without the loud ticking.

Slowly she stepped through the entrance hall of the castle and stopped in front of the many stairs that led up to the tower. She felt terribly weak, but after ten steps she was so out of breath that she had to take a break.

Greatly focused she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her breathing, to find a tack with her racing pulse, which she thus tried to lower. It worked, if only with moderate success.

Minerva sighed. How should she cope with the everyday life of a headmistress and a professor when she was already out of breath after ten steps?

Carefully she started moving again and slowly climbed step by step until she stood in front of the moving stairs. She knew that as a headmistress she could apparate back and forth within Hogwarts as she liked. But she wasn't a big fan of it. It put a lot more strain on her lungs.

No, she had to train more and develop more stamina so that she didn't look too bad in front of the students who were due to arrive in six weeks.

Resigned, Minerva stopped again on one of the stairs, which – unfortunately - had now decided to change sides.

"Oh, by Merlin and Morgana..." the older lady heard herself mumble and with a brief wave of her drawn wand and a pop she disappeared from the stairs.

If the prospect of escaping the strenuous stairs was all too tempting, arriving at the director's office turned out to be an extremely painful affair. Minerva appeared right in front of her desk and was glad to be able to cling to it in the next moment, because her legs gave out and a sharp pain went through her lungs.

"Minerva?" she heard Albus ask worriedly from his picture.

All the other headmasters also eyed their successor critically, downright pitying. But because of these looks Minerva got the strength to push herself up again and slowly, always with one hand on the large oak desk, to walk around the table and drop into her armchair there.

"Are you still not feeling better, dearest?", She heard Armando Dippet ask, whom she had hung behind her back on her left.

"Yes," interfered also Albus Dumbledore, "you shouldn't apparate, Minerva. It isn't healthy for your lungs! "

Minerva shot him a deeply peevish look. "Well, if the stairs were easier to conquer, I would certainly have preferred that. Thank you for your sympathy, gentlemen" she hissed.

Armando and Albus exchanged meaningful looks.

"Good," Minerva mumbled, deeply lost in her files again, "where was I?"

Behind her back, somewhere to her right in the third bottom row, a woman's voice cleared her throat. "Well, my dear," Minerva recognized the dissonant voice of Eupraxia Mole, "you had just been busy processing the new registrations for the coming school year when this terribly uncouth Frenchman came in to fix this damned clock."

Minerva nodded and tried to ignore the poor mood Eupraxia was in when a deep, resounding voice came from below left: "I beg your pardon, Eupraxia. I had this pendulum installed at that time. It has a very excellent gong and the precision is unparalleled." That was Amrose Swott, who had spoken, who in his black costume and white ruff corresponded to the fashion of his time - 400 years ago.

The two former directors had never been fond of each other, which is why a loud discussion broke out immediately about who had installed the most terrible innovations at Hogwarts.

But before the whole thing could get out of hand, Minerva stepped in with a decisive wave of her wand, which is why in the end all pictures got a Muffliato and were made invisible. Albus, however, was spared by the new director. You never knew when she might next use him for certain formalities.

She picked up a tall stack of letters that were in the filing tray on the right of her desk.

For the coming school year invitations were sent to each grade with a request for a response, and this was apparently done diligently.

Minerva sighed. It was going to be a long night.

She had just worked her way through the first pile, ticking off lists and writing acknowledgments, when her hand came to a halt on a letter she would have recognized among thousands.

The writing was razor sharp and clear, but still youthful, playful and ornate. The pen must have been extremely thin. And, as Minerva was pleased to see, there was even another brief note attached to the informal registration letter.

Dear Professor McGonagall

I am glad to read that the gates of Hogwarts are opening again so soon. To be honest, I was worried!

I hope that - despite your new post - we will not only meet in the Great Hall.

Until then,

Your Hermione Granger

PS: Please don't be surprised, I'll show up without Ron and Harry for the next school year.

Minerva wasn't surprised about the post scriptum. She had already learned from Kingsley Shacklebolt that the boys were not coming back to Hogwarts. If she was honest with herself, she wasn't surprised about Weasleys decision. But she would have thought, that at least Potter would graduate.

Well, even if it disappointed her a little, it was all the same to her. The two young men would make their way through life, she was quite sure of that.

She had to read the other lines of Miss Granger's brief message twice.

Did she understand the content correctly? Was the young woman so keen to keep her as a teacher?

With a smile, Minerva made a mental note about that.

She had to admit honestly that she felt very flattered by her note.

And it was true, Minerva's all-time favorite student in all these years had been Hermione Granger.

And not just because of her quick and inexhaustible mind. She was punctual, polite, absolutely precise in her work and a very beautiful being.

Minerva stopped in her thoughts. Had she just titled the young woman as beautiful?

The older lady knitted her eyebrows in irritation.

Now it was true that Miss Granger had matured into a petite, yet resolute, beautiful young woman over the years.

But it was nothing of Minervas business to think about it, as she made it unmistakably clear to herself.

It was just the pride of her lion cub that spoke from her thoughts into her consciousness.

Oh yes, Minerva would see to it that Hermione Granger got an excellent graduation and that she had a great career ahead of her.

Just before she filed the informal application and was about to hide the personal note in her desk, her nose reached for something that was far away in her memory.

Carefully she lifted the note to her nose and sniffed it gently.

But there it was, the scent!

So she hadn't imagined it in her unconsciousness after all.

Figs and ambergris.

And something else, but she couldn't make out what it was. But now there was no longer any doubt.

It was clearly the smell of Hermione that she hadn't gotten out of her head since the battle.