A/N: I got stuck on the other one for some reason. This was originally the backup but it was a bit sad for a birthday. As so often happens, it evolved into something else so here we are. I've essentially finished it so I'll upload it day by day I think.

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A month or so, after the war had ended, saw everyone who had been involved in it gone to ground. Hogwarts was a mess and despite their best efforts, they had not managed to fix it before the term had been due to start. It had hurt a lot when Minerva McGonagall had stepped out in front of the Ministry and announced that there would be a truncated year, beginning in January and finishing a month later than expected. Not that the boys cared, they were going straight to the Ministry to train to be Aurors.

Hermione wasn't sure what to do, though. She had expected that, somehow, using magic they would just all go back to normal. Except it wasn't quite like that. They had done their best to clear the damaged stones and the splintered wood but it had come to nought when they had been told that the stonework in the towers was fractured beyond their skill to heal. Work had stopped immediately while the engineers figured out how to mend it without the whole thing toppling in itself, thus, the delay.

It had broken Hermione's heart, but she could see that it had hurt Minerva McGonagall more. Those who didn't know her well would have observed her clipped tones and her stern face and assumed she was angry they'd had to delay. But Hermione knew better. The harshness of her tone and the set of her face were to stop the tears. Hermione had seen it once. Just before they'd left, right after Dumbledore had died. That same face.

That same strength.

It's what had brought Hermione to the gates of Hogwarts. She'd noticed the date and remembered some far-off bit of information she'd read, once upon a time.

4th October.

Minerva McGonagall's birthday.

She swallowed as she arrived at the South Gate and looked up at the ruins. She'd put in a lot of effort, just to get here in the hope that perhaps Minerva might see her. She'd had to track down Filius Flitwick, sure he'd have a home address for her. And when he didn't, he suggested Poppy Pomfrey who'd warned her not to do this. She'd left that meeting rather tersely but tempers were like that these days. She wasn't sure why Madam Pomfrey wouldn't want to celebrate the birthday of her friend, despite where she was or how she felt, but it didn't matter.

Hermione needed that. But, more than that, she knew Minerva needed it too.

They'd been friends once, before - she glanced over the broken earth - all this. Their sixth year had been hard; they'd lost a lot and fought a lot but through it all, every other weekend on Sunday afternoon when the boys were playing Quidditch or doing whatever boys did, Hermione would wind up on Minerva's sofa chatting quietly about everything and nothing.

Those memories got her through the following year. Even when the Horcrux seemed to sap all of her happiness, she could close her eyes and remember those quiet moments, laughing with Minerva while they tried not to spill their tea all over the carpet.

It was what brought her here, to these gates now.

Somewhere, along the way, Hermione had realised something.

Somewhere, along the way, she had fallen in love with Minerva McGonagall.

She shook her head at herself and stepped over the plinth. Her wand was in her hand, despite knowing she was on friendly ground. Merlin knew what kind of protections they'd set up.

By rights, she shouldn't have been here, but after going through the very short list of people that knew Minerva well and trying to find her home, Hermione had realised how obtuse she'd been. Minerva, like her, had no home. Hogwarts had been her home for more years than Hermione had been alive and when she wasn't teaching, she was doing all of the administrative work that came with being the Deputy Head and then the Headmistress after Albus' demise.

No wonder she'd looked upset.

When nothing happened, Hermione walked along the well-used path up to the castle. It still took her breath away as she entered it, but for different reasons now. The hum that usually accompanied the castle was absent and Hermione felt that absence in her chest. The staircases were silent, the wind whistled through the gaps in the stones and parts of the roof to her right were just gone. She sighed and looked up. Minerva's private rooms were at the bottom of the Gryffindor tower, two stories above where Hermione stood and to be honest, she wasn't sure how Minerva was getting up and down.

What was more horrifying was that, of the four towers, Gryffindor had fared the worst. That Minerva was here, living at the bottom of one, terrified her and she decided to get Minerva out of there by whatever means necessary.

But she still wasn't sure why she'd thought this was a good idea.

She walked carefully forward, watching her step and keeping her guard up. She didn't want to disturb anything, but she didn't want to startle Minerva either. That would definitely be against both of their best interests. She wasn't interested in a duel today.

When she finally made it to where the staircases were silent, she noticed that someone had mostly positioned them where they needed to be. She started climbing and ran her fingers along the cold stones. The portraits had been emptied, most choosing to go to the Ministry while the Castle was empty and she understood now, why they'd gone. It was so desolate. The October weather had set in and it was dreary anyway, but it made the broken castle even more so. She was panting a little by the time she got to where she was going and she took a moment just to breathe. Godric was not in his portrait either, and when she touched the frame, there was a soft click that opened it without a password.

She pulled out her little beaded bag and drew the small box she'd brought with her and stepped inside, knocking on the inner door and waiting. Nobody answered, but Hermione wasn't sure that was because nobody was home. If she had to guess, she was sure that Minerva probably wasn't expecting anyone, so why would someone be knocking at the door.

She knocked again, getting braver by the second.

"Minerva?"

She heard a shuffle this time and the door was flung open to reveal the Headmistress, wearing a scowl and a dressing gown and looking utterly perplexed.

"Wha -" She glanced behind Hermione. "Why -"

Hermione checked behind her just in case someone had snuck up on her but then turned back around. In the split second she had before Minerva turfed her out, she catalogued the bags under her eyes and the limp hair. Minerva's hair had always been her pride and joy and now it sat sadly down her back.

"Um," she managed to squeak. "Hi."

There was a long pause while Minerva stared at her and Hermione smiled, remembering why she was there.

"You'd best come in, I suppose."

Hermione breathed a quiet sigh of relief and followed the woman in. She stopped at the entryway and stared. Minerva's rooms were demolished. Her books were in tatters everywhere, knick-knacks and curios were in pieces on the floor. Her walls were licked with soot, like someone had set fire to the place only it hadn't taken.

She stared.

"Don't," Minerva said as she opened her mouth. "Just don't."

"Minerva -"

"I said don't," she snapped, making Hermione shut her mouth with a click.

The plan that she had made, in her head, fled in the midst of the destruction and she peered closer at the older woman. She seemed resigned to it all - why else had she not started repairing anything? Well, Hermione wasn't going to let that continue.

"Min?" she said softly, making the woman look. "This is," she looked around, helplessly. "You're not safe here, will you not come with me?"

"Where?" Minerva said caustically. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"You can stay with me," Hermione found herself answering before she'd thought about it. She didn't say she was currently camping in her parent's empty living room, but she supposed they'd get to that later.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Minerva," Hermione whispered. "Please?"

She remembered Harry's righteous indignation when he wouldn't leave Grimmauld place and all the horrific darkness that had sat on top of them until she'd managed to get him out. Hermione supposed she was doing the same at her parents' place as well, but there wasn't the same sad magic permeating the air. Just sadness.

"I don't -"

"You don't need all the answers right now," Hermione smiled. "You could just come with me and we'll work on this."

"I have nothing," Minerva breathed. "Nothing left."

Hermione watched her as she looked around her room. This was Minerva's entire existence, she supposed. Madam Pomfrey had mentioned, between their rather barbed comments, that Minerva had moved in after her husband had died. When Hermione had set out to complete this mission, she hadn't banked on learning that, but she didn't think she was wrong either. Instead, she acknowledged Minerva's prior relationships - as she should, the woman was decades older than her - and clung to the soft touches and the gentle smiles they'd shared when they were together on Sundays.

"You have me," Hermione whispered after a beat.

It was not quite the wrong thing to say but Minerva turned away from her with a scoff and looked out of the window. Hermione stepped closer, her feet treading lightly between the chaos until she stood beside her former teacher and looked out over the deeply scarred landscape.

"You have me," she repeated, a little louder. Minerva's shoulders went up as Hermione shifted closer and put her hand on the small of Minerva's back. She didn't shy away as Hermione expected her to and so she took that as a good sign. "I wasn't imagining it, was I?"

"I cannot do this," Minerva muttered. "You're a student. I'm," she waved her arms, indicating the room around them. "Broken."

"No you're not," Hermione said gently. "Just a bit banged up right now."

Minerva snorted and for the first time, she looked at Hermione properly.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," she managed as tears gathered in the corner of those eyes.

"You are too," Hermione smiled sadly.

Hermione's bravery peaked and she pulled Minerva into her arms. Minerva stood stiffly for a little while before she relaxed just a little and clung to Hermione's jumper. Hermione rocked them slowly until she felt Minerva's grip slacken.

"Will you come with me? We're just two people right now? Both hurting and in need of," she shrugged "Each other."

"I," she looked around the room. "Suppose so."

"I should warn you," Hermione chuckled before she could stop herself. "You currently have more furniture than I do."

"What?"

"I'll explain later," Hermione waved her off. "Go and shower and get dressed. I'm taking you for lunch somewhere. Even if it's just a picnic."

"What is that?"

Minerva nodded to the box in her hand and Hermione realised that Minerva didn't know what day it was. She shrugged and offered it to her with a smile.

"It's your birthday. I got you a little cake, just in case you said no to lunch."

Minerva stared at the little case then back at Hermione, then back at the box.

"You -"

"You have had a cake before, right?"

Minerva gave her a look and Hermione giggled at the normality of it surrounded by all the abnormality.

"I hadn't realised the date."

"Well," Hermione shrugged. "Now you know, let's get out of here. Maybe you can have your pudding first."

Minerva looked at her carefully and then nodded.

"I will need to change and -"

"I'm not in a rush, there are no plans, no surprises. No one is joining us unless you want them to. I wondered if you wanted to grab a pizza and go and eat it by the sea or something?"

"I," Minerva blinked and looked at her again. Hermione saw the first signs of a smile. "That actually sounds wonderful."

"Good," Hermione nodded. "Get to it then," she chuckled. "But do take your time, truly, and dress Muggle."

Minerva gaped at her for a second before she snapped out of it and moved towards the back of the room. As she disappeared behind a door, Hermione took a moment to look around. She sighed at the destruction. It would take an army of help to get this fixed.

An army.

Hermione glanced around once more and realised that she did have an army or what was left of one.

She pulled out her phone - she'd bought one for her and Harry recently but found it had no service. Not that she was surprised. She made a mental note to send a message to him later and turned around a few times, surveying the damage. She could help with some of it. She started at the fireplace, where most of her bookshelves had been emptied. Some of them had been merely flung around the room and she created an expanded box which she placed them in gently, checking them over for damage. She created another two boxes of things that may be able to be saved and things that she didn't hold much hope for.

She almost cried as she saw a few of the photos, Minerva with two similar-looking young men, younger and happier. The edges were curled and blackened but most of it might be saved. She pulled out her phone and made a list of people they needed to talk to. Firstly, she needed to know who Colin had learnt how to process film from, and beyond that, someone who might restore photographs - Muggle or Wizarding.

She was so engrossed with her task that she only just looked up in time to see Minerva coming out of her room.

Hermione nearly swallowed her tongue.

"Is this -"

She must have made a face because Minerva paused and looked down at herself before Hermione could shake herself from her stupor.

"Holy shit," Hermione breathed, making Minerva frown. "You look incredible!"

Minerva blushed and looked down at herself again. She was wearing a deep purple button-up shirt and the tightest black jeans Hermione had ever seen on a person with gleaming black boots to complete the look.

"They," she frowned. "I haven't worn this in years. They did some damage there too, though not as much."

"Well," Hermione blushed. "You look fantastic." Minerva blushed deeper and caught Hermione's eye. They stared at each other for a long moment before Hermione remembered where they were. "Right," she said, shaking herself. "Shall we?"

Minerva nodded and found her wand on her desk and followed Hermione out of the portrait with a dark jacket in hand. In a moment she'd been banking on, Hermione noticed that Minerva didn't ward the Portrait and she made sure not to draw attention to that fact.

She had a plan and she just hoped it wasn't going to blow up in her face. They walked in silence through the grounds. It was only when they arrived at the gates that Minerva finally turned to her.

"Where are we going?"

"Do you trust me?" Hermione asked, offering her arm.

There was a long pause while Minerva looked at her but Hermione waited it out. The woman had been to hell and back, it was the least she could do but wait.

Without saying anything else, Minerva took Hermione's arm and they disappeared from view.