Hello,

I have to heave a sigh as I am happy to get one chapter out. It has been extremely stressful and busy. I do regret that this chapter is not as clean as I would like . Forgive me.

Alex

"I am not entirely sure what you mean Professor. You must elaborate,' Hermione said with an edge to her voice but a soft smile upon her lips.

Minerva looked between father and daughter and saw the similarities, but what where she saw Mr. Granger, right beside those features, beautifully blended were shades of Andromeda. Minerva's finger's twitched as she wished for her wand to be in her hand. in a flash, her hand pushed out and triggered the holster about her forearm. She blinked. Her hand was empty. Mr. Granger sat there with her wand tapping it patiently on his knee.

"For the love of God, give it back," Hermione huffed and walled between them and flopped in another armchair that was not there before.

"Hello Rhun, you should have told me you were the 'Meddling Hat' my father spoke about," Hermione greeted Rhun politely but with a slight chill to her voice.

"Yes, well I was put there long ago to … manage the place. I didn't think you would like to know your father had spies in the castle," Rhun chuckled from his rumpled lips.

"Again, who are you, people!" Minerva yelled. All eyes turned to her. Even the hat seemed to tun from his spot. No words passed and Minerva grew irritated. She hated being out of the loop, so to speak. Then Mr. Granger stood and gave her the wand. She lifted it and fired a stunner and he let it hit him. She watched as nothing happened.

"That tickles somewhat. To answer your question I am Old, Rhun is the spirit of one of your castle's founders as penance, and Hermione is my daughter. Any further explanation I feel might disrupt the fragile framework of your world," Death answered. Minerva put her wand back in her holster and sat on the sofa next to Rhun.

"I am not fragile," Minerva grumbled.

"Want to bet 5 galleons on that?" Rhun chuckled again. Minerva huffed and opened her mouth, but Hermione spoke looking to the fire.

"My father is Death, I am Death's Daughter, Rhun is the spirit of Salazar Slytherin, and Andromeda was kicked out of Eden and chased down until Death rescued her, married each other, and had me. We are looking for the Deathly Hallows, and every one of them is in your school," Hemione deadpanned never taking her eyes from the fire.

After the silence stretched on Hermione looked up to Minerva and saw the woman stare at her, look her over, and then to Death, and looked him over. Hermione watched as one of the strongest most poised women she had ever met shatter into a silent blob of conflict and disbelief.

"Death," Minerva pointed to Mr. Granger, and he tipped an imaginary hat toward her.

"Salazar?" she looked to the hat, and he made to bow from his form making him rumple even more.

"Death and Andromeda's Daughter?" looking to Hermione. Hermione did nothing but watch the woman process. Then she started to stand. She moved to leave but Death's hand grasped her wrist. She jerked her hand away her breathing growing rapid.

"Sit her down, she is about to pop," directed the hat and Hermione rushed forward and saw the pallor of her face drain from pink peachy flesh to grey. Death let go as Hermione rushed toward Minerva and watch as if in slow motion the woman's eyes rolled back and then she teetered backward. A gust of a breeze filled the room as Hermione made it to the woman and caught her from falling backward.

Hermione pulled the woman to her, and they crashed chest to chest as Hermione wrapped her arms around the fainting woman. Hermione braced for shock, anticipated it, and prepared for the crash, but she did not prepare for the scent of lavender and the spice of magic that filtered around them as the current of air flowed back toward them from Minerva's momentum into Hermione. Hermione could not help it. He pressed her lips to the side of Minerva's temple and help her tightly, eyes closed.

"It will be alright," Hermione whispered in the woman's ear.

Minerva's eyes fluttered open and all she could see was firelight dancing between the strands of soft brown hair. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. IT wasn't a dream; it wasn't a figment of her imagination. Then she felt Arms around her, holding her close, keeping her from falling. She realized who held her and she reluctantly pulled from those warm arms.

"Please help me sit down," Minerva whispered and nodded as Hermione helped her back to the couch. Once seated she took a deep breath. She grasped her wrist gently and saw a red mark and looked at Death.

"What did you do to me?" she asked softly with no energy to be angry.

"Please forgive me, I sometimes forget that my touch affects people very differently. I only meant to make you pause, nothing more," Death said as he sat in his chair looking into the fire. Minerva watched him. He looked saddened by his actions.

"When people who have been touched by Death, but not taken, are usually more susceptible to his touch," Hermione informed her from her chair, once again looking into the fire. Death waved his hand and tumblers of brandy lay on the table. Hermione absently grabbed for hers as did Death. She watched the two and they seemed like mirror images of the other. Action for action, look for look. Even their brows furrowed in the same countenance of frustration and… regret.

"You said you were helping a man named Gil, and a mass shooting, what happened?" Minerva asked and Hermione closed her eyes in a slow blink as if she wished never to speak of this again.

"I am a collector," Hermione said then looked to the woman and saw confusion, "I deliver souls to the next step, the Domain, to be guided to their next step," Hermione said softly.

"Was I touched by Death?" Minerva asked looking between the two of them. Death sighed and Hermione stiffened.

She remembered… remembered during the war with Grindelwald. There was a battle and she and Gill were picking through the bodies, collecting their distraught souls as they looked down on their bloodied and dead bodies. Then she touched one, as a collector, but the soul would not budge from the body. Then a gasp from blood-stained lips. She and Gill Looked up and saw others coming looking for their wounded. Hermione forgot the woman until she took in the scent of lavender and spice, but she always knew there was something about Minerva that enraptured her senses.

"You have been through two wars, I would be surprised if you haven't been touched by death in one way or fashion," Death said softly soothing Minerva's fear. Even in her relief, she saw the look pass between Death and Hermione.

'As you can see professor, I am fine and I will back in the castle no later than tomorrow," Hermione said trying to get the woman away from her.

"I have to go too, or Dumbledore will wonder where I am at," Rhun looked to Death and he snapped his fingers once more and the hat was gone. Minerva made to stand.

"Safe travels Professor and I shall see you soon," Hermione said as she collected the glasses and went to the kitchen. Minerva watched the girl, no woman stand there washing glasses then turned. Death waited patiently for her, and she walked to him, but she turned around once more.

'She is brilliant, Sir,' Minerva whispered.

"Yes, and ever so much more in tune with the world than I am," Death said and then Minerva looked to the man, and he smiled, "Doing my job for eons takes a toll, imagine hers. She sees the carnage, she sees 'death' and yet she is the light of my life," Then death bore his eyes into Minerva's, "I trust you to keep a secret?" he asked, and she nodded. He shoved bluntly into her mind, and she glared at him. He only smiled.

"I only meant to check your shields because your boss is not as light-sided as you think he is," Death confessed sheepishly.

"I am beginning to see that. Have a good day," Minerva said as she walked out of the house.

Death walked to the kitchen and watched Hermione clean the glasses. Over and over, she scrubbed the same cup.

"She will help," Death said, and Hermione only nodded, "You, ok?" Death asked his daughter stepping close.

"She was touched by me. I thought she passed, and I was reaching for her soul, but it would not come. She held onto life with a will of iron," Hermione stopped scrubbing.

"You like that do you?" Death asked and Hermione squared her shoulders and turned to her father.

"Yes, I do."