A/N: Good evening my dears. It's nice not really having anything to report, except my neverending gratitude to you all for your lovely reviews.

And to Lib McGranger, who has done her best to make sure I don't have everyone chuckling all the time. It's become a real problem :P

-0-

The clean up at Hogwarts took nearly a month and, if possible, only became more awful as time wore on. So many had died that there were not enough places to store them. A temporary morgue had been set up in one of the Greenhouses and all the bodies that were collected were placed under stasis until they had somewhere to go. The blood was washed from the stonework and what grass could be cleaned, was. The rest, along with the topsoil, was being ripped up by Professor Sprout and her team. Every trace of what Hogwarts and her defenders went through was scrubbed clean.

Those that had fought, would carry the scars for her.

They worked tirelessly, some days until they had fallen where they stood. The stones were still scarred and out of place, but they would be fixed in time for the students to return.

To that end, as their newly elected Minister for Magic, Kingsley had announced that school would resume in the New Year. Hermione had smiled for the cameras from her place beside Harry on the podium and reluctantly accepted the congratulations that came with being a 'war-hero'. They answered some questions and avoided others. The boys tried to shield her as much as possible from the worst of it. But it was still awful. She hated it. She was not a hero for surviving. None of them were.

After the immediate clean up came the funerals, the trials and the clean up of their own exploits. Apologies to Gringotts, donations to the family of Bathilda Bagshot. Hermione made her own reparations to Goodrich Castle - quietly and outside of public knowledge. Gringotts was not very forgiving until Bill stepped in and smoothed a lot of it over. Charlie had helped, speaking up for the Dragon's welfare after it was discovered that there were still two being housed underground. Both had been released into his care and Hermione had spoken quietly with Harry afterwards about keeping a good chunk of their money in Sterling, rather than Galleons.

Just in case.

As with everything in the Wizarding World, things dragged on and on and before they knew it, it was October. They had spoken to journalists and attended victory parades and had their picture taken so many times that Hermione was sick of seeing her own face. She hadn't found the time to speak properly to her parents. She hadn't seen Minerva to talk to, or really anyone that wasn't on the Victory Tour with them, and she was so very done with everything that one night, in their hotel room in mid-October, she broke down.

The boys had comforted her until she slept and then they'd gone to Kingsley and told him that they were done, and again as it had been before, it was just over.

They spent an extra day, sitting together mostly in silence before their lives would change once more. Harry had already accepted a position in the Aurors from Kingsley and Ron would follow suit. He had things to do at home before joining them, but Hermione had turned her own offered position down. She'd had enough of killing to last a lifetime.

Instead, she kissed their heads and went to Banchory.

To rest.

To recover.

To hide.

She assumed, perhaps presumptuously, that Minerva had kept her parents updated where she couldn't. When she popped back into existence in front of their gate, her mother came out at the sound and stood waiting with open arms. Hermione burst into tears and ran into them, secretly hoping she could stay there until everything had gone back to normal. It had been so long since she'd seen them and at first, she was wary of their anger. Whether they were angry or not, they did not show it. Instead, they helped her back from the brink of disaster.

Her release from the trauma of war was not particularly pleasant for any of them. She raged, she screamed and she spent hours locked up in her room, crying into her pillow or staring out of the window. She lost more weight than she could ill afford to lose until one day she stopped being angry and started feeling just a little brighter with each passing moment.

And so, she healed. She rested. She processed all of the pain and the suffering that they had gone through. She still cried all the time. She still vomited often, had nightmares and stopped eating for a while longer, but at every turn, her parents were there to hold her when she could stand it, or sit with her when she could not.

They had cared for her in such a way that she was gradually brought back from the brink. Between episodes of what she knew was probably PTSD, she told them the story, from start to finish, shedding tears at every moment. They soothed her nightmares and even fed her when she couldn't manage to do it herself. And when she was a little stronger, they fixed her cracked teeth like she knew they would. Being with them had simultaneously been one of the best and hardest things she'd had to do but their bond seemed stronger for it.

And for that, she even found herself feeling thankful for some of her experiences.

By the time the week before Christmas rolled around, she was much better. Though the nightmares had not left her, she slept when she could and kept to her room, reading to her heart's content. She spent a lot of time catching up on everything she'd missed for the last year and reading all the books she'd ever loved, reminding herself of the magic that was in all things and chasing that contentment she'd had as a child.

On this day, however, Hermione's mum knocked on her bedroom door and dropped that day's copy of The Daily Prophet on Hermione's desk as she entered. Minerva had arranged for them to receive a copy not long after Hermione had left with the boys. It made Hermione smile every time it arrived but that did not seem to be the reason for her mother's visit.

"So," she said gently, settling on the bed. "Hermione."

"Yeah?" she asked. She put her finger between the pages in her book and looked up at her mum with a smile.

"You've been here for a couple of months now, right?" Hermione nodded. "And in that time, you've healed, processed," she cupped Hermione's cheek. "Fixed your teeth?" Hermione grinned. "One thing you have not done is talked."

"What?" Hermione asked, sitting up and putting her book away. "I've talked your ear off. I told you every detail that I went through. I told you about -"

"Minerva?" Jenny asked gently. Hermione faltered. "Hmm?"

"I, um -" Hermione wasn't sure what to say. "We," she frowned. "She was busy. I am waiting for her."

"How long do you think you should wait?"

"I," Hermione blushed. "Never asked. I haven't spoken to her since we left, actually. Every time we tried, we were interrupted. Between her running the repairs and being the new Headmistress and me being off with the boys," she grimaced. "Again, we didn't get a chance to really say anything. I meant to write but, with everything that has gone on, I -"

"Do you perhaps think, my darling," Jenny interrupted. "That it is time to start living your life again?"

"I'm happy here," she grumbled. "I'm healing. I don't," she blushed, inspecting her calloused hands. "Don't want to be a burden."

"Oh, my little one," Jenny smiled. "You have come so far in the time that you've been here." She chuckled and leaned over to Hermione's desk to grab the paper. "But it might be time to make your way home."

Hermione frowned and looked down at the Daily Prophet that her mother was holding out for it. On the front page, Minerva McGonagall stood, resplendent in brand-new robes, in front of Hogwarts. She smirked into the camera and waved her hand, setting off fireworks behind her and showcasing the newly-mended towers and walls.

Hogwarts was whole again.

"I -"

"I've packed your bag," Jenny said jovially. "It's by the front door. We," she chuckled. "Might stay, if your Minerva is amenable. We quite like it up here and there's an opening in a practice not far from here that your father wants to try for. I," she grinned. "Am quite enjoying spending my time modernising Hogwarts' procedures," she squeezed Hermione's knee. "Even though I realise Minerva only gave it to us to keep us busy while we hid."

Hermione laughed and leaned back on the pillows.

"I needed you. And she knew that. She did that, for me."

"And I adore her for it," Jenny smiled. "The pay?"

"Her personal stipend towards your survival," Hermione shrugged.

Jenny rolled her eyes and then chuckled.

"I had my suspicions. Your father is so very proud."

"She -"

"Loves you."

Hermione lost her breath as she nodded.

"I wanted to help," Hermione muttered, only able to air her thoughts in whispers. "I wanted to be there. To do it with her, but -" She blinked away a tear. "I couldn't."

"She won't begrudge you for that, my darling. What you did was," Jenny shook her head. "Well, it was a lot. I," Jenny smiled. "She and I wrote a lot, when she could. She visited on and off, again, when she could. She let us know when you were okay and," she swallowed. "When she knew you were not."

"Mum -"

She hadn't known this before and it finally hit home just how much Minerva loved her.

"She is your match in every way, Hermione. The way she speaks about you makes me wish that everybody could find someone who loves them that much. We spoke about her age and what she feels and thinks and," Jenny chuckled, bringing Hermione into her arms. "I'm no longer afraid for you and your heart. I am proud that you are both so brave that you would take this road. And I'll be here, we will both be here for you both, while you navigate it."

"Oh Mum," Hermione sobbed into her mother's shoulder.

"I have one piece of advice for you though," she said, kissing Hermione's temple. "If there is one thing that I have learned about being in love with your dad for so long, is to just be honest. Sometimes it's hard and sometimes it hurts but honesty will get you through all of the other stuff." Hermione nodded, soaking the information up. "No matter how difficult."

It wasn't that she did not want to be with Minerva every waking moment. She ached for them to be together. But as the terror of their situation eased and the adrenaline she'd been running on petered out, she was embarrassed, almost.

Not embarrassed. So very unsure.

She was unsure who she was, after everything that had happened. She was unsure whether Minerva would even like her, as she was now. She was quieter, more introverted and less sure of herself, at times. The experience of fighting in war had taught her that people mattered much more than she'd ever realised.

In truth, she had panicked when she realised just how fundamental those changes were.

But her mother was right. And she had been unfair. Though her worries had plagued her constantly, she had woken up to a gentle heat at her wrist and felt another before she put her head on the pillow. And in between? So many tiny moments when Minerva had made sure to let her know that she was in Minerva's thoughts.

"I wasn't being fair," she whispered as she looked up at her Mum. "I made decisions for the both of us. I was worried I'd changed too much."

"I think she knew that you needed some space to heal and rest and maybe even learn this new self," Jenny said gently, ticking Hermione hair behind her ear. "She, too, needed that as well and, of course," she tapped the Prophet. "She needed the time to mend the castle. But now it is mended and it is time to move on to the next phase of healing," she rubbed the frown from Hermione's forehead. "Together."

"How do you know when you're ready?" Hermione asked quietly.

"You don't," Jenny laughed. "You just are."

"What if she -"

"You think the woman toiled for six months to put a castle back together because she felt like it was her duty to do so?" Hermione blushed at how transparent she was being. "Seems to me she did a year's worth of work in half that time because she was in a rush to get somewhere else, no?"

"It would not be out of the realm of possibility for her to do that, but -"

"Hermione," her mother chastised. "You are so much smarter than that, my darling."

"I love her," Hermione whispered, laughing at how it felt to say it out loud. "Not like in the books, though, properly. I want to be with her," she said, imploring her mother to understand. "I just don't know how. It seemed easy when we only had moments. When this wasn't real. But -" she implored her mum to understand.

"Let me put it another way," Jenny said with a knowing smile. "Don't go to her. You stay here and let her live her life. You can see each other at the Christmas parties every year instead."

Hermione was stricken at the thought and her mother laughed.

"Why are you still here, my girl?" Jenny asked, leaning forward and cupping Hermione's cheek. "Go!"

"I'm scared."

"So is everyone who falls in love," Jenny counselled. "It's time, darling."

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded, standing from her bed.

"I," she blushed. "Don't know what to wear."

"Wear whatever you feel most comfortable in. Minerva is a woman who knows what she wants. And all she wants, is you," Jenny smiled.

Hermione beamed and waved her hand over outfit, changing to form-fitting slacks and a soft, blue jumper.

"Beautiful," Jenny nodded, crossing her legs and leaning nonchalantly on the bed frame. "Your father and I will see you both for New Year's," she ordered. "You enjoy your first Christmas together though. We'll exchange presents when we see each other again."

Hermione wrapped her arms around her mother.

"I'm so sorry for all the hurt. But thank you, Mum, for taking care of me."

"You are our daughter," Jenny scoffed. "Of course we were going to take care of you. As we would have in any other situation. But," she held Hennessy cheeks in her hands. "I love you, my darling Hermione and I am so very proud of you."

"I love you too."

"Get out of here," Jenny nodded to the door. "Say goodbye to your dad before you leave."

Hermione grinned, feeling a burst of energy and excitement and taking the stairs two at a time, landing in front of her father.

"I'm going, Dad."

"I see that, Peanut," he chuckled, kissing her hair. "I assume your mum has told you we'll see you at New Year's?"

"Yep," she laughed. "Love you."

"I love you, sweetheart. Have a good Christmas."

Hermione kissed his cheek and grabbed the small suitcase her mother had packed for her. She calmed, for just a moment, before she Apparated off the front-door step with a crack.

-0-

Minerva's home had not really changed since the Christmas they had first spent together. The mountains were just as clear and as impressive as they had been the last time she had seen them. They stood strong and proud as if nothing had happened in the world. She chuckled as she looked up at the snow caps. She guessed that, to the mountains, nothing had changed.

Just another war. Just another winner, just another loser.

She shook her head and faced the house once more. The conifers were taller and the ivy thicker, but it was just the same and Hermione smiled at the sense of longing she had not realised she had. Very carefully, she stepped inside the boundary and felt the magic wash over her. Just as before, nothing happened and she let out a breath of relief. At the front door, she touched the knob and rolled her eyes at Minerva's lack of security as it popped open.

"Silly," Hermione muttered as she stepped inside. "Minerva?"

She dropped her bag by the door and took off her hat and coat. There was a cupboard in the hallway and she opened it, smiling at the Muggle coat hanging beside the cloaks and - she peered behind a rather luxurious purple, fur cloak - a broomstick to rival even Harry's. She giggled and threw her hat on the shelf above the cloaks. She hung up her coat next to Minerva's before turning around and ruffled her hair in anticipation.

By now, Minerva should have arrived to greet her, but she remained alone in the entryway. It was not how she had envisioned this going. She laughed to herself and slipped into the kitchen, breathing deeply as the smell of a slow-cooking stew overtook her senses. She glanced at the table and found it set for two. Candles flickered gently, casting shadows on the wall and a single red carnation sat in a small vase between the two settings.

A long-forgotten picture, in a book she'd once read, came to mind. A red carnation.

My heart aches for you.

Her heart thumped happily.

But where was Minerva?

Far be it for her to completely ruin whatever Minerva had set up, Hermione wandered up the stairs and into the library. She ran her hands over the back of the sofa where they had fallen asleep. As she stared, she had visions of them falling asleep there many, many more times before their lives were through. She moved on, to the shelves, where she'd first learned the wandless, silent magic that had helped her survive the trials she had faced. And then -

Their window.

She stood before it, not quite ready to sit in her place. Not without Minerva. But as she looked out over the landscape, she got lost in the desolate landscape until she felt it. The precise moment that Minerva came home.

Home.

As if she lived here too.

A stab of nervousness left her feeling a little presumptuous. She had brought a bag, intending to stay without invitation. She stood, lost in her concerns, and felt them pile into one another. She pulled at her sleeves as she wondered whether Minerva might like what age was wearing. A hundred other little moments spring into the forgetting of her mind, all of which made her sink deeper into herself. Evidently, she was so lost in her thoughts, she jumped as two hands slid around her waist.

"Ah!"

"Easy," Minerva chuckled gently. "Only me." Hermione turned and all thoughts of not being enough were forgotten as Minerva smiled at her. "Hello, love."

There was no hesitation as they kissed like they'd been kissing each other all of their lives. Like they had lived this moment many times before.

Like they were meant to be.

Hermione sighed into Minerva's mouth as their tongues curled around each other, and their heartbeats thumped in time with each other. A moan, Hermione did not know who made it, broke them apart. She breathed Minerva's whole being in and Minerva laughed suddenly, making Hermione join in.

"I went to your parents' to get you," Minerva chuckled, her hands framing Hermione's face. Her eyes roamed over every inch of her like she was trying to remember every detail. "Jenny explained she'd sent you home?"

The comment was framed like a question and Hermione sighed against Minerva's palm.

"She did," Hermione nodded. "It was presumptuous of her, and I, to assume that might be what you might want."

"Hermione," Minerva snorted, leaning in and resting their foreheads together. "You silly woman."

"I've changed Min," she whispered. "More than I thought I had. I," she pulled away, but Minerva followed her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I don't know if I'm the same."

"Do you feel the same?" Minerva asked carefully. "About," she looked suddenly unsure. "Us?"

"Yes? I am worried that you might not -"

"Oh Hermione," Minerva chuckled. "I have never wanted anything more than you, here or really anywhere but most certainly, with me."

Hermione laughed and wrapped her arms around Minerva's neck and kissed her soundly once more.

"We are all changed, love," Minerva acknowledged gently as they separated. "What happened was something we will all live with, for a very long time. But, if you tell me what you need, I will do everything in my power to ensure you have it."

"Only if you do the same for me?" Hermione asked quietly.

Minerva smiled and kissed her softly.

"I have been alone for a very long time. I may not be very good at that, yet, but I will try. Will you be patient with me?"

"I know you," Hermione smirked. "I'm a patient person." Minerva chuckled and wrapped her arms back around Hermione like she couldn't stop. Hermione didn't care. She held Minerva just as tightly and felt some of her missing equilibrium coming back. "If you would permit me," Hermione asked as she pressed soft kisses along Minerva's jaw like she'd wanted to do for years. "Perhaps I might stay for Christmas?"

"This one or the next," Minerva quipped, rolling her neck to encourage Hermione to continue.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh and hold Minerva tighter.

"All the Christmases. Forever?"

"Deal," Minerva grinned, her hands resting on Hermione's hips. "Would you have dinner with me?"

"I'd love to," Hermione grinned. "As long as you dress properly."

Minerva's frown made Hermione smirk. She kissed Minerva softly, whispering against her lips and twirling her hand. Minerva's formal robes, that she had been wearing in the picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet, were replaced with black jeans and a deep, bottle green jumper. Her feet were bare.

"Haven't worked out how to do shoes yet," Hermione giggled as they both looked down. Minerva's toes wriggled on the carpet.

Minerva threw her head back and laughed loudly as she pulled Hermione into her side and led her from the room.

"Wait," Hermione said as they passed her bedroom. "One more thing. Would you -"

Minerva asked the question with her eyebrow and Hermione ran a soft finger over the top of her ear.

"Absolutely," Minerva beamed. "Would you like to pick?"

Hermione nodded and they detoured into Minerva's bedroom. She stood watching as Minerva rummaged through her jewellery tray and pulled out her earrings. Hermione picked a sparkling star and Minerva fixed it and the ones in her lobes quickly and efficiently, showing them off when she was finished.

"That," Hermione breathed as she took in the whole look. "Is rather sexy."

"This?" Minerva asked innocently, a small curl appeared at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, trying to hide her face.

"None of that," Minerva soothed, taking Hermione's hand and pulling her closer. "I'm glad you like it. Maybe I'll start wearing it every day?"

"Your students won't know what to do."

"All the more reason," Minerva winked.

Their hands hadn't left each other for more than mere seconds. The idea of letting go was too much for Hermione and she ran her thumb over the back of Minerva's hand. She glanced down at it, seeing their ribbon on her wrist. That, and being back in the bedroom that they'd started in, two years ago, Hermione remembered that she had something to give to Minerva.

"I have an early present for you."

"Hermione -"

"Wait," Hermione whispered. "This is important."

Minerva stepped back and leant on one hip, her arms crossed against her chest.

"Well, I'm not giving you your present early," she smirked.

"That's okay," Hermione agreed. "It's not really a present, more a," she searched for the word as she withdrew her beaded bag. "A repatriation, of sorts?"

Minerva was on her way to frowning when her watch appeared in Hermione's hand, from her bag. She held it out, smiling softly as Minerva stared.

"Hermione?" She whispered, looking into Hermione's eyes before she stared at the watch again. "Love?"

"We happened to camp in the Forest of Dean," Hermione muttered, remembering the tremendous risk she took in retrieving it. "I," she blushed. "Had honestly forgotten about it until I was alone one night. Harry was sleeping and I was so angry at everything. Ron left, I couldn't have you, I couldn't go home. I was stuck with Harry and the," she stopped and breathed deeply. "Horcrux. And in a fit of," she shrugged. "Stupidity, I walked off to find it."

Minerva hung on every word as Hermione recounted her tale.

"You -" Minerva was shaking her head. "You left Harry? For this?"

"No," Hermione chuckled, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Minerva's ear. It seemed a lot less severe tonight. "I mean," she blushed. "Yes. But not for that," she considered that. "Not just for that. For you. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I did it, but then I was already there and -"

Minerva pulled her into her arms and held on, shaking her head in one moment and laughing hysterically at others.

"I love you," Minerva smiled. "I," she glanced down at the watch. "Even without this, Hermione Granger, I love you."

Hearing the words made the tears that had begun collecting in Hermione's eyes to overflow down her cheeks. She laughed as they kissed again and Hermione helped Minerva fasten the strap around her wrist. They stared.

"I," she blushed. "Have the other band in my bag. I didn't know how sentimental it was, but I had it fixed," Minerva looked at it in her hands. "Obviously. It spent a year in the ground and by the time I got it home, it was a bit worse for wear. Dad helped me find a watchmaker in the city?" She couldn't quite meet Minerva's eyes and her ears were burning. "Mr Watkins, the watchmaker, said it was one of the most beautiful watches he'd ever had the pleasure of working on. He buffed the case, pulled all the workings and replaced what was worn and oiled it all up. He even polished the glass, but the band couldn't be saved, so he put one that was as close as he could find. I didn't -"

"It's perfect," Minerva said, her voice wobbling. "Hermione?" she said, waiting for Hermione to meet her eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll," she chuckled morosely. "Have to tell Harry at some point. I told him not to ask, and he didn't. It seems so silly now."

"I will tell him," Minerva whispered. "How much it means to me that you did this. However ill-advised."

"Not my finest moment," Hermione winced. "It was quite the experience. I'll tell you about it, I suppose. In time."

Out of habit, she clutched both hands in front of her and ran her thumb over her ribbon. Minerva stilled and took Hermione's hands in hers.

"This -" Minerva swiped her thumb over the ribbon that still sat on her own wrist and made Hermione shiver. "Was my saving grace."

"And mine," Hermione nodded. "There were so many times when I was on the verge of losing it, you were right there. Reminding me."

"I knew," Minerva muttered. "Even when I wasn't actively wondering, I always knew. When -"

A whistle sounded downstairs and Minerva blushed.

"The food, I -"

"I smelled it when I came in. I can't wait."

"Permit me, this time? We can talk more over dinner."

Hermione smiled, making Minerva's eyes twinkle. She blushed under the scrutiny and slid her hand into the crook of Minerva's, where it was meant to be.

"Always," she promised, letting Minerva take her to dinner and then, onto the rest of their lives.