Chapter 19

Frost had begun to creep across the grounds in the morning, white blanketing the grass and reflecting the bright sun. The earth grew firm with anticipation of snow which would soon start falling in large fluffy flakes. Still, there had been no conversation between the Headmistress and her newest member of faculty. Hermione had started to go for dinner on occasion in the great hall, showing her face once, possibly twice, weekly. If all else was in tatters, one thing Minerva knew she could count on was her teaching ability. Reports of her class were exemplary, and a trinket that acted like a one way transmission to her office granted her the opportunity to listen in whenever the curiosity arose to check upon the advancement of the class. No fear, there. The simple fact that Hermione was able to maintain her effective teaching methods early on in her career was impressive.

Over the course of weeks since that afternoon in Hermione's office, the Headmistress truly began to wonder what was it about the woman that still made her heart ache. Was it the memory of who she had been once upon a time? Was it the way that, even when she was fuming, even after she had allowed her visage to become tainted by scars, that she was still so otherworldly in her beauty? There was no doubt that in passion they were equally matched, as was with work ethic and practice. Intelligence? Certainly. It was a hard pill to take down that, really, she had begun to realize that she didn't actually know this grown woman at all. She had heard stories of her past through Kingsly and Harry, kept in some contact with Molly and Arthur, but she and Hermione hadn't had any of that interaction.

All Minerva knew was what she could remember. And these recent months she had learned that Hermione's libido matched her own. Things Hermione did, the way she touched, felt different. Even that had matured over time. Once, she remembered an almost demure young lady who, even though in the heat of the moment she had seen in all her nude glory, would mostly attempt to cover herself with sheets or a shirt covering her breasts, turning her back, while getting re-dressed. Hermione hadn't ever attempted to avert Minerva's line of sight anymore. She wore her naked body as a badge of honor, it seemed. In this way, she, also, had matured. She was a grown woman, with new opinions and insight into life. She wasn't a spritely student who, even after witnessing war, still saw the light at the end of the tunnel. She had been forced back into it without a torch to guide her out. It showed in her stiffness and her guard. And Minerva ignored these drastic changes, as she realized. She wanted for the young woman to be who she, and her heart, remembered.

Upon realizing this, a sadness fell upon the woman. Hermione wasn't that girl. She wasn't free with her expression or heart, she wasn't unfazed. It took Minerva that long for her to realize all of these things and come to terms with the fact that the image she had had in her head was dead and gone. If only she hadn't allowed for herself to be stopped that day, maybe that woman might have lived…

"Fix your face, Minerva." A voice drifted into her ear, breaking the concentration she had had on her plate. The Headmistress looked beside her to see Rolanda in the seat. Further down, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was missing. She had come, she had eaten, then she had left. Minerva hadn't even noticed.

"Forgive me." The Headmistress sighed deeply after a moment, pushing her chair back so that she could leave the chatter and hall behind, her appetite lost. The woman left quietly out the door and into the corridor behind the staff table. She didn't linger there. Knowing that the students would be occupied for a few hours still, she granted herself the quiet minutes to stroll to the courtyard. There she sat for a few minutes, peering up at the sky, wondering the many 'why's'.

Her quiet was disturbed by the sound of black robes flapping against calves, Rolanda's teaching robes, and a figure seating itself down beside her. Neither spoke a word. Her friend followed her gaze and peered up at the sky. Minutes passed.

"Kingsley owled me today about Miss. Granger… He's glad that she's settled but requires her to return to active duty briefly. I'll need to find someone to take her place for a few days," Minerva stated, her tone lacking. "He'll be here tomorrow to inform her."

"Active duty… I wonder why." Rolanda mused, her golden eyes following a nearly translucent cloud passing in front of the moon. Whatever the reason, it must have been severe.

"The attacks… They are getting more frequent, there have been reports of some as near as Hogsmeade, last week Rosemerta had to close her inn because of the fear," Minerva ventured on to explain. "Gatherings are becoming a rather uncomfortable affair."

"I thought everything would be over after You-Know-Who… How wrong we were." The flying instructor bowed her head, giving it a small, disappointed shake. Minerva hummed in response, all she could muster was that faint sound. Rolanda didn't press on. Instead, the two women sat in relative silence for a few hours until sleep beckoned them to go their separate ways.

_~*HGMM*~_

Just as Minerva had said, Kingsley arrived in the early afternoon that Saturday. His first stop was Minerva's office where he apologized for the brief change in plans. She said little to nothing in return, however, did request that her employee be returned in one piece, to which he said Of Course! - Something in the way the man acted, in his posture, roused her suspicion. Not often did an interaction with Kingsley leave a sour taste in her mouth. She considered the fact that it was her concern, her silent care for the young woman's safety, that was most likely the culprit. But seeing as Hermione was more than capable, Minerva set her worry to rest.

Next, the Minister left Minerva's office after direction on where he was most likely to find the young professor. Led by a student, they wandered the castle until he was brought to her classroom door. That was where he was left to conduct his business.

He knocked loudly, alerting the woman on the other side of the door of a presence. Kingsley entered in, his booming voice filling the empty room.

"Well, well… It appears you've made quite the impression here!" Was his way of greeting. Hermione lifted her head, the parchment in front of her no longer the center of attention. Her eyes narrowed as he closed the door none too softly and began making his way to the front of her class.

"It's part of the job, Minister." She replied cooly, wondering what in the world was going on.

"Yes, of course…" Although a well mannered smile adorned his dark features, Hermione questioned it.

"To what do I owe the pleasure." A pleasure, it was most certainly not. But a pleasantry was a pleasantry. Kingsley sat himself down on the edge of a table in front of Hermione, his hands folding on his lap. He appraised her with a masked expression, one of his strengths; the ability to remain unread.

"I have heard you are doing very well here, and I am glad… I am glad that you have been able to take this time to recover." Hermione slowly rose from her seat, matching his aloof posture whilst resting on the edge of her desk.

"Little choice I had to do anything but, isn't that right, Kingsley?" There was a delicate sharpness to her tone. If her words had been a blade, it would have been thin and deadly. Kingsley didn't appear to acknowledge it. Despite the research that took up her spare time for her department, there had been zero indication of her returning to any sort of field work any time soon. Until now. Clasping his hands together, Kingsley raised his chin minutely.

"Right… Well, we have an opportunity for you, Hermione - In fact, I'd say you are the best and only person for the job." He explained, his hands parting and arms widening as though presenting her with a gift. The gift of opportunity. This caused Hermione to question, something wasn't quite right.

"You've exiled me to Hogwarts, told me that I can't be trusted, and now you are here nearly six months later to offer me a mission… For the Ministry… Do you realize how suspect that appears, Minister." Hermione folded her arms across her chest, defensively. Her patience began to grow thin.

"This is an opportunity, Hermione, not a goose chase," He explained with the smoothness of a public figure. "This isn't a catch and retrieve, it's a seek and destroy. You are built for this, you have proven that time and time again, you are the most qualified and most gifted officer… And it would be a positive on your transcripts if you succeed."

If you succeed…. If. Dealing with if gave the impression that she could potentially not succeed. Her brow furrowed.

"And what about Harry? Your golden boy… Why not have him do this?" She questioned, watching as Kingsley laced and re-laced his fingers. A crack in his resolve was becoming apparent.

"You know Harry - three children who need him, a wife, but not nearly as… Adept at this sort of work. He has too much…"

"To live for?" She interjected with venom, her voice raising a modicum.

"Fear." He corrected her, his own gaze narrowed. "Take it.. Or don't. The choice is yours."

Hermione thought about it. How she hated the way it had been presented, but the idea of getting back out into the thick… It called her.

"I'll do it." She stated, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "When do I leave and for how long."

"Tomorrow evening, and if all goes well, you'll be returning in a week and two days… You'll be briefed outside Kirkcudbright and go on from there." The Minister appeared pleased, despite Hermione's clear discomfort. With those few orders, the man straightened from his leaning and turned to leave. He managed to make his way two thirds down the center aisle before Hermione's voice stopped him.

"If I need to flex my spellwork, how much restraint am I expected to have…" She called as the question popped into her mind. The figure slowed, turning half way to view the woman on the other end of the room. He paused for a moment. Something flashed across his features but dimmed, she didn't have the opportunity to catch it from the distance where she stood.

"If anyone tries to stand in your way, Hermione… Don't let them." He replied, his expression putting an end to her pondering.

Kingsley left Hermione in her classroom. Alone, she felt something unknown, or at least unrecognized, cause a knot in her chest. She had never been given the option to not show restraint. Racing, somewhere in her mind she realized that this wasn't a simple or easy request from the Ministry. If she was the one being addressed, and no other, then she was being utilized as expendable… she was expendable. Or trusted.

"Oh fuck…" She murmured to no one.

_~*HGMM*~_

For three hours, she paced. Threatening to burst, her head throbbed. She had folded over again, and again, the prospect of everything going to plan. She knew that hoping for it to go well and it actually going well was skating a thin line. She took a moment to write to Harry and Ginny, leaving a small note inside for James. She wrote the Weasley's, and left a note for Rolanda to be discovered on her desk. She had one day still to prepare, but the gravity of everything was hitting hard.

Preparations were in order… She felt it swell in the pit of her stomach.

The request being made was incredibly rare. It wasn't common for the Ministry to conduct themselves in a way that could be perceived as dishonorable. Sending someone in to do a clean sweep and take no prisoners wasn't exactly the norm. It only occured when something had changed and something severe was uncovered. In her entire career, it had only happened once before.. Three Ministry workers died, four wounded, yet the job was done. It was a major upset, considering four families were deeply affected by the course of action. And if seven skilled Aurors found themselves in the shit, what hope did one witch have? She prayed she had back up.

Loose ends weren't her forte. Before then, she had had none. She settled her affairs with her friends and family, but there was one who she hadn't: Her employer. After all letters were sent and notes were folded, being placed in places easily discoverable, Hermione didn't want to waste one more minute before being called away to who knew what. She knew that the evening meal would be set to start but the teaching staff took coffee briefly before that, anyone who chose to attend anyway. With that in mind, she rifled through a desk drawer and withdrew a few phials of silvery whisps, all contained safely within. Tucking these away into the pocket of her teaching vest, Hermione left her classroom at a quick stride. Passing students along the way she smiled, she received some waves and lifted her hands, wiggling her fingers. They were so young, so fresh of face… Innocent.

Her footsteps carried her through the castle until she reached the teacher's lounge, a place she hadn't stepped foot in for a number of weeks. Hermione straightened herself, her palms smoothing over the fabric of her vest and down her abdomen. She reached and grasped the handle of the door and twisted. Tucking herself inside, she already heard the sound of voices. For once, everyone was there… Hagrid included. The chatter died down in her presence, and when she turned she noticed many pairs of eyes trained in her direction.

"Pull up a chair, m'dear!" Fillius offered as Hermione approached. She raised a hand to decline with a small smile, her eyes training on the ebony haired witch who sat on her own by the fire. The chatter resumed. Rolanda, however, watched closely.

"Headmistress," Greeted Hermione in lowered tones. "Might I have a moment of your time?" the Scottish witch didn't look up from her page.

"Anything you have to declare, you can do so here, Professor." She replied plainly, turning the page of her book. Hermione chewed the corner of her mouth, her fingers curling toward palm and unfurling with the slight nerves she was succumbing to. It was a fair request… considering how explosive their last meeting had been.

"Of course, Minerva," Hermione's tone softened, this actually garnering an appraisal from the woman who remained seated. "I wanted to give you these before I leave, as I'm sure you have already been made aware." Retrieving the vials from her pocket, Hermione placed them down on the table beside the witch. Emerald eyes watching as memories were set down. Confusion knitted her brows. When she looked up at the face aimed down, there displayed a slight curl to the corner of those lips. There was no anger, sadness, or discomfort. The word she could only find to describe what she saw was acceptance. It unnerved her a great deal.

Turning from the Headmistress, Hermione's eyes scanned the faculty. She took a moment, a breath, and then addressed them as a collective.

"If I may have your attention, please… For just a moment before your dinner," Her voice ringed above the idle chit chat and silenced it, eyes falling upon her form once more. Minerva trained her gaze on the side of the woman's face, unflinching, and perplexed, whilst the fire crackled. "I have been called from my post to return to work with the Ministry today and, as you are all aware, I'm not a fan of theatrics or inclined to dramatics…"

The air grew thick. Hermione stepped toward the scattered group, maintaining her decorum.

"It's an unusual request that I don't take lightly, but I did want to take the opportunity to express my gratitude for having had the very short time to work with you all, it has had a profound impact and I… Well, I, thank you."

They seemed to glance at one another, unsure of why such a declaration was warranted.

"An' when will you be comin' back, 'Ermione?" Hagrid asked out of the blue and after a moments pause. Eyes shifted like watching a tennis match. Rolanda only seemed to watch Minerva, watching as the hand resting on the arm of her chair squeezed, white knuckled. Hermione pursed her lips, then addressed him specifically.

"A week and a bit, if all goes well."

"And if it doesn't?" Poppy asked, turning in her seat. That seemed to be the question on everyone's mind.

"Then… We will have to see," She replied with a lightness. "Anyway, thank you again and until we see one another, I hope you are all well. I'll be leaving for Hogsmeade shortly and off tomorrow night, best to get a headstart. Take care everyone."

Before anyone else had the opportunity to question, she departed. Loose ends were tied and she accomplished what she had intended. In the end, if something were to happen there would be no question as to her wishes, or feelings. It was probably the kindest she had been in those months, no self deprecation or snappy retorts, an honest message from a sincere woman in a moment when uncertainty was the name of the game.

As the dinner bell began to ring, Hermione made her way against the current of students until they grew more sparse. She returned to her private quarters and immediately went into her bedroom to search for her canvas duffle bag, hidden in the back of her wardrobe. On autopilot, just as she had done so many times before, she began weeding through her clothes for what was most appropriate. Pairs of jeans, fitted button ups that didn't allow for snags or a firm grip of fabric if grabbed by hands, her leather jacket as an added layer of protection… She began to fold her clothes and tuck them inside.

Meanwhile, in the teachers lounge, Minerva was growing frustrated by the bombardment of inquiries she was facing.

"It is highly unlikely that the Minister would allow a member of our staff to be put in serious danger, I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation," Firmly, Minerva laid the questions to rest. "Now if you all will go to dinner, I assure you, our professor will return safe and sound once she is done with her additional work."

Minerva turned her back to the group as they began to get up and excuse themselves to the Great Hall, speculating among themselves at the cryptic nature of it all. The silver haired woman nearest the Headmistress didn't make a move.

"Rolanda, please do me a quick favor and take these to the pensieve in my office." Gathering the phials from the table where they had been left, she handed them to her dearest friend and made in the direction of the corridor. A hand shot out and gripped her upper arm, briefly.

"Hermione isn't one for theatrics, Minerva… She was being sincere, whatever it is… This can't be normal." Rolanda spoke in hushed tones, her golden eyes alight with bewilderment.

"I am aware, I'm going to meet with her before she takes her leave. I'll call upon you later if needed." Minerva stated, her severe features creasing further with a frown. Her friend let her go and turned to leave in the opposite direction, as instructed, to deliver the small parcels to her office.

Departing from the lounge quarters, the ebony haired witch wasted no time. She rounded one corner, then, when no one had the chance to witness as everyone should have been in the Great Hall, loud footfalls transformed into silence, save for the sound of claws scratching against stone floor. Darting down corridors with determination, whiskers flattened against furry face, Minerva ran as fast as paws could carry her. Coming to an abrupt halt, she nearly passed Hermione's door. Where a cat had been, stood a woman, panting.

She didn't knock, her hand fell upon the doorknob and twisted, pushing the door open. Hermione must have been in a rush as she hadn't locked it. Unusual…

"Miss. Granger…" She called only to see the woman striding out of the bathroom and across the room, not stopping, and carrying a bag of toiletries.

"Headmistress, I thought you'd be at dinner." The younger woman managed to say before entering into her bedroom. Minerva closed the door and followed, her features growing more stern by the passing second.

"Hermione… What the bloody hell was all of that, it was…"

"Very necessary." Hermione stated, turning from the open bag on her bed to rifle through her wardrobe for a case at the bottom. Minerva watched her from the doorway, never having seen Hermione appear so frantic.

"Not by the way the Minister presented it." Hearing this warranted a chuckle from the brunette who, having found her book luggage, carried it to her bed. Hermione had no doubt that the Minister painted a picture simply. It was part of his job to be secretive, Hermione knew far more than Minerva could have hoped to.

"He voided some truths then, not unusual because it's not your business to know." She told the woman. Minerva didn't believe, or even want to believe, that would be the case… Yet, Hermione wasn't slowing down. In fact, she was speeding up. Her book case was flung open and, quickly, she began flipping through what appeared to be journals. She picked one up and flipped through pages, her eyes scanning handwritten pages with lightning speed before tossing it into her duffle.

"Hermione, stop…" Minerva couldn't stand the sight any longer, she stepped swiftly forward and grabbed the other woman's wrists, twisting the woman round until emerald met brown eyes. "Explain to me this instant, what is happening?"

Hermione didn't move for a few seconds. Instead, she freed her wrists but those hands, those pale slender hands, she wrapped her own around in an act of sincere and silent declaration that the touch… It was alright for that touch to take place. She looked at Minerva and for the first time since returning to Hogwarts didn't appear as though she wanted nothing more than to scream in her face.

"The Minister's request isn't routine… Recovery missions are routine, anyone trained can adapt and proceed with these… They aren't without danger but the danger is far more minimal than orders to find something, or someone, and dismantle or destroy it, or them," Hermione began to lay it all down on the line, she could only assume Minerva hadn't gone to her pensieve. "I am being briefed elsewhere but my commands are to put down anything in my way, I have no idea who is joining me or what the circumstances are, but I do know that… I am expendable, in this case." The ebony haired woman scoffed, her features twisting.

"Expendable… You aren't expendable, you are a great asset, Kingsley would never put you in harms way, you're too valuable…" Argued the Headmistress, making the move to take back her hands but the ones holding tightly wouldn't allow it. Emerald eyes glanced at their hands then back to the woman's face.

"What Kingsley knows is that I won't stop until the job is done, regardless of injury or potential injury, I will fight for my department to ensure that whatever it is is stopped," She further explained, then leaned into appealing to Minerva's logic. "Think about it, why do you think he spared details? If it wasn't highly dangerous, why wouldn't he send Harry? Or someone else? Harry has a family, so he can't, I have no one… He didn't want you to try and stop him, or me."

Realization dawned on Minerva's face. Hermione saw it, the gears and cogs were spinning, working, and reaching conclusion. Peering at one another, she watched the Headmistress absorb the information.

Minerva felt her lungs deflate and remain deflated. The walls closed in. Hermione searched her eyes and held onto her hands, not allowing them to drop. Even when they were in the midst of the storm, screwing weekly, Hermione hadn't taken the time to speak or show any sign of true affection. If she was only capable of doing so now, that only had to mean that what she was saying was true. She truly feared that she wouldn't be returning in some capacity. That was a thought so strikingly terrifying that Minerva nearly lost her words.

"You can't leave…" Those lips whispered, horror filling green eyes as quickened breathing parted her lips. Hermione's, however, pursed. She expelled a sigh through her nose and drew Minerva's hands to her chest. Despite frantic actions of preparation, she was relatively calm. She had no other avenue to stroll down, in this case, it required restraint and control. Mimerva tested that, still, it was maintained.

"I need you not to tell a soul, whatever you have said is simple as that… I need you to go to your pensieve and look through what I gave you because everything I want to say, I don't have time for right now," Stated the young woman, nodding her head in the affirmative as Minerva began shaking her head no. "And if we succeed, I will be willing to have a talk about it. If I don't, at least you will know it was all for nothing."

"Please." Desperation cracked the Headmistress's voice. Weeks and weeks had passed with no more than silence between them, clearly Hermione might have had a change of heart, something, that was causing the woman to show another side. Separation did something, what that something was… She didn't know.

Hermione needed to commit. This… It was a distraction. She needed to steer Minerva out the door.

"Before you go, I need to apologize for hitting you… If I could take that back, I would have never raised a hand in your presence, if given the opportunity, I will never do it again. I am truly sorry, Minerva." With that being the final word, Hermione leaned forward and pressed a kiss so featherlight to the woman's cheek. All colour drained from Minerva's face.

"Now, you need to leave."

Minerva did as she was told. She didn't have the strength or the will to continue. If this was part and parcel of Hermione's Ministry position, she wondered how anyone could stand it. How did anyone who loved an agent of the Minister bear it?

By passing dinner, she went straight to her office. Whatever Hermione had been talking about would be in the memories she offered, and Minerva now needed to know. Now.

TBC