A week passed, then two, then three, with no word from Hermione. Rolanda bit back fear every time an owl tapped on a window, her stomach falling every time she opened the paper, but there was never any mention of her. It was almost as if she had vanished from the wizarding world. She desperately wanted to send the girl a message. She wanted to know if she was alright more than she wanted anything else.

It had taken her a few days to get over Minerva's confession. The dark haired woman agreed that when Hermione returned, she would tell her. She didn't have a choice if she wanted any sort of relationship with the younger witch, and Rolanda had promised that she would be there when she did finally admit to the brunette her true parentage. The young witch would need support and someone on her side. She was sure that Minerva was terrified of Hermione's reaction to the news, but she wasn't so certain that the reaction would be a negative one. Hermione loved Minerva, much the same way that a child loved their mother. Everyone in the castle knew that.

She opened the door to her rooms, her mind plagued by thoughts of the young witch that she cared so much about, only to find the very object of her reflection sitting on her couch in front of a roaring fire, a blue folder in her hands, staring into the flames that lit up her face.

Rolanda's feet carried her quickly across the floor and her arms swept the witch into her arms before she even knew she had moved. Holding tight to the brunette she buried her nose against her neck.

"Never, ever scare me like that again. I have had more than enough worry over you to last me a very long time." The older witch's voice, thick with emotion, rumbled against soft skin.

Hermione did not respond. Her arms didn't move to embrace her friend. She barely seemed to notice that Rolanda was even there.

"Did you know?" she whispered. The flying instructor pulled back and looked down into confused, pain filled eyes.

"Know what, Hermione?"

"Did you know that Minerva McGonagall is my mother?" The soft voice was accusing and filled with more hurt than the older witch had ever heard before.

"Not until the day you left. She told me. I guess she was trying to get me to understand why she was so protective of you, why she wanted me to stay away from you so much."

Hermione nodded. "I found this folder in my mother's safe. It lists all of the details of the adoption. I went home for a few days, back to my parents house. I needed to get some things sorted out, their important papers, bank accounts and such."

"I thought you said that you weren't ready to go through their things yet?" Rolanda steered her back to the couch and sat next to her. "I would have gone with you, if-"

"I haven't really gone through anything besides the safe, and the things in my room. Other than that, everything is still exactly as they left it. I only went through their paperwork. That's when I came across this. I have never even seen it before. They never told me that I was adopted." Tears started to make their way down tanned cheeks. "I wish I could talk to them."

Rolanda pulled her friend towards her and let her cry into her shoulder. "You may not be able to talk to them, but there is someone that you can talk to about it. She had planned to tell you when you came back, you know."

They waited until Hermione's tears dried and the young witch moved away from the older. "I know that she wanted to tell me. I even know why she did it. I found a picture of her, holding me, just a few hours after I was born, and she told me about her daughter. She told me that she gave me up to protect me, that now the war was over, she was going to tell me who I really was." Hermione glanced back down at the folder in her hands. "I want to be understanding, I really do, but growing up in a muggle household made me a target anyways. Being adopted means that I have that awful word carved into my skin for no reason."

"Don't think about it like that." Rolanda whispered, pushing a stray curl away from Hermione's tear stained face. "Think about the fact that even though you are adopted, your parents loved you. Think about how much they loved you. I don't think that they didn't tell you in order to hurt you. I think, sweet girl, that they didn't tell you, because to them it didn't matter. You were their daughter, whether by blood or not."

"And what of Minerva? I don't know how to reconcile everything that I know about her with the fact that she is my mother. I don't know how she will react when I tell her that I know."

Rolanda grinned. "The two of you are so alike. She has been absolutely terrified to tell you, afraid that you will be angry with her, hate her, for giving you away."

"I could never hate her. I don't even think that I am really angry. I don't really know how I am feeling about all of this." Hermione whispered. She looked up into her friends face, finding only understanding, and comfort in her eyes. She leaned into her once again, resting her head against the strong shoulder. "I don't know what to do, Rolanda."

"You talk to her. She is your mother, Hermione. She will listen."

"Will you go with me?"

"I told Minerva that I would be there when she told you. I wanted to be there to support you when you found out, not to be there for her. I am still not quite happy with her for jinxing me," she grumbled. "But yes, I will go with you, if you want me to."

"I do. I would like it if there was someone in the room that I know is on my side."

"There are no sides here, hermione. You're seeing this all wrong. You know that she gave you up to keep you safe."

"And at the same time, made sure that there was no hope that I would ever be accepted by the pure-blood supremicts. If I had know that I wasn't a muggle-born, then maybe I wouldn't have been such a target for Bellatrix, maybe she wouldn't have come after me. Maybe-"

"Hermione, stop." Rolanda whispered. With the brunette laying against her shoulder, she shifted, so that she was reclined against the arm of her couch, and her friend was tucked up between her legs, laying against her chest. She rolled up her sleeve, exposing the proof of Bellatrix Lestrange's sadistic tendencies to the younger woman, a scar she had already seen once before. "Bellatrix would have come after you whether you were a muggle-born, half-blood, or pure-blood. It had nothing to do with your blood status, and everything to do with what side of the war you were on. I am not a muggle-born, and she still came after me. I bear a scar incredibly similar to yours, remember?"

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice. She was unsure of how to react to everything going on, unsure of what she should do with the information that she had discovered. She knew that she didn't want to go into her conversation with Min-her mother, angry. The green eyed witch had no idea what had happened to them while they had been on the run. It was one of the few things that she had left out of her story when they had spoken in her office. She also knew that the sooner she talked to her mother, the sooner things between them could begin to mend, but at that moment, she was far too comfortable to care, her thoughts lulled to silence by the sound of the other woman's heater beating against her ear.

Rolanda's arms came around the young woman resting against her. The weight on her chest, one which was far too light, concerned her greatly. She was aware that food had been scarce while they were on the run, but the war had been over for almost a month. She should have put on a bit more weight than that. She should mention that they needed to get moving and get the conversation with Minerva over with, but she couldn't bring herself to move, too comfortable in the moment to care what else needed to be done.

A/N - Chapter 6 for all of you lovlies I know this one is quick and really doesn't have a lot going on, I promise the next chapter will be far more interesting.