Hermione woke to the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom. She stretched, and with a wave of her hands, opened the blackout curtains that blocked her view of a sweeping expanse of the castle grounds. In the bathroom, a throaty contralto was singing:
O luaidh, 's truagh nach deachaidh sinn
E luaidh, 's truagh nach deachaidh sinn
O gura truagh a'cheist, o luaidh
Nach robh mi san uaigh mun d'fhuair mi sealladh ort
O luaidh
Hermione smiled as the words were drowned out by the shower. The song continued in a low hum. Hermione was certain she had never had a more pleasant wake up call.
Hermione swung her legs out of bed and padded into the living area. "Tilley," she said to the empty air. Minerva had introduced Hermione to the house elf at dinner the previous evening.
The air pressure dropped, and Tilley appeared noiselessly a few feet in front of Hermione. "Miss Hermione, good morning. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, very well, thank you. Do you know what Minerva plans for breakfast, Tilley?"
"The mistress was waiting for you to wake up and give you her preferences before I brought a tray. What would you like to eat?"
Hermione flushed a little at Minerva's forethought. "Is she going to take care of me the whole year?"
The house elf chuckled, which deepened Hermione's blush. "Most probably, Miss Hermione. You look as though you could use it. Indulge her. Indulge both of us." Tilley straightened her immaculate tartan uniform and gazed fondly up at the young witch whose arrival had her mistress singing in the shower. "Now, breakfast order, young miss."
By the time Minerva made egress from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Hermione was halfway through a bowl of oatmeal packed with fruit and walnuts. A steaming mug of coffee rested on the side table next to the couch. Minerva's breakfast and a pot of tea awaited her on the coffee table.
"Minerva! Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Minerva looked, if it was possible, even more energized and relaxed than the previous evening. Her black hair was still damp and hung in waves to the small of her back, and the heat of the shower had left a rosy flush on her cheeks and neck. The woman exuded good health and magical vigor.
"Ah, Miss Granger. You look well rested. And partaking of my hospitality without me, I see." Minerva grinned at her, clearly feeling playful this morning.
"The blame is all yours, Professor. The food smelled entirely too good to resist."
Minerva settled herself into the armchair perpendicular to the couch and pulled the cover off her plate of eggs and home fries. The light weight under-robe that Minerva was wearing was a lovely shade of green not dissimilar to the color of new plant growth in spring. The robe was sleeveless with a notched collar that exposed delicate clavicles. Minerva's arms were whipcord and bone beneath smooth, milky skin. Hermione found herself fascinated by the play of muscle in the older woman's forearms and biceps as she poured herself tea and took the first bites of her breakfast.
"I'd forgotten how well the house elves treated my stomach during my school days." Hermione peered across the top of her mug at the older woman and cocked an eyebrow at her. "You know, I don't believe I've ever seen your arms above the elbow, Professor. I feel almost scandalized."
The expression Minerva flashed her around a bite of eggs could only be described as a smirk. She finished chewing, "Well, we couldn't very well be starting riots among the students by letting them see that professors have..." she leaned towards Hermione and glanced around the room, subtly flexing her rather impressive bicep, "...guns."
"Indeed you couldn't, professor. Indeed you couldn't," Hermione bit out, managing to keep a straight face, though Minerva's haughtily raised eyebrow soon set her giggling. "Wherever did you learn that bit of slang, Minerva McGonagall?"
"Unlike a good portion of the wizarding world, Hermione, I have been to a movie theatre," Minerva sniffed.
"Good to know
Hermione finished off her oatmeal and picked up her coffee mug. "What's in the cards for today?"
"Filius and I have a meeting at ten with a few Ministry officials in regards to our annual wizarding jobs fair. I was thinking that this evening we could have a short review of NEWT level transfigurations, and perhaps discuss where you wish to begin your course of study."
Minerva scraped the last of her eggs off her plate with her fork; considering Hermione carefully as she chewed. After swallowing, she asked, "Do you have any interest in animagus training, my dear?"
It was Hermione's turn to smirk. She placed her mug on the coffee table and drew her knees up to her chest. In a blink, a finely featured fox in short brownish-red summer coat sat on the couch, its white tipped tail tucked around its front feet.
Minerva clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh 'Mione, how lovely you are. Vulpes vulpes crucigera, am I right?" The Hermione fox sneezed in agreement. Minerva settled herself on the couch next to Hermione, her clever hands seeking out the spot just at the base of Hermione's ears that felt like nirvana with the gentle application of fingernails.
"Well, seeing as how I would have been notified had you registered your form, this is definitely a matter that requires attention." Hermione sneezed her agreement and tilted her head up to press her cold nose into the base of Minerva's neck. "And of course we will head out for run this evening, as well."
Minerva stood and looked down at her pupil, stunned and pleasantly surprised at Hermione's adeptness in transfiguration. "Alright, enough mucking about, my dear. You'll need to shower so you can accompany Filius and I to the Ministry."
Hermione leapt to the floor, her frame lengthening in the air until she stood next to Minerva. "Just brilliant, Hermione. No hesitation in the change whatsoever. Quite an accomplishment."
Hermione blushed, still reveling in the power and fluidity of her change. "That's a recent development, up until a few weeks ago, it took me about thirty seconds to complete the transformation."
"How long did it take you to reach this level of mastery, Hermione. I had no inkling that you had begun studying self-transformation."
Hermione blushed again. "Truthfully, Minerva, it only took me about three months to learn. And since I wasn't working or continuing my education formally, I had to do something with my time."
"Exceptional, truly. And your form, it chose you, am I right?"
"Yes. But, there's... It's just that...there's something else." Hermione was beet red now and chewing on her bottom lip. Minerva's curiosity was kindled. Hermione was never reticent about sharing a magical accomplishment, and how she had come to master it. And she rarely stammered. She must be embarrassed. Or frightened.
"Hermione, I am not going to be angry at you for anything you share with me regarding your animagus abilities. I trust your instincts and your skill. With magic as powerful as yours, the unexpected can sometimes happen." At this, Hermione cast her eyes down to the floor, reluctant to meet Minerva's intense green gaze. "I registered you as my apprentice over a year ago to give you a little protection against experiments, successful or otherwise."
Minerva was protecting her? Even when contact between them was nearly nonexistent? Minerva's claim over her work was a powerful affirmation - the Ministry would fear Minerva's wrath if they had meddled in Hermione's experimentation. That made Hermione just a bit more ashamed that she hadn't contacted her mentor when she had experienced a rather strange...side effect in her self-transfiguration.
Sliding her fingers underneath Hermione's chin, Minerva raised the younger witch's amber eyes to her own. "Hermione, just tell me. We'll make it alright."
Looking down at her feet again, Hermione sighed. "Alright, Minerva, but I can't tell you, I'll need to show you. And I'll need some more room."
A flick of Minerva's wrist pushed the living suite closer to the fire place. Hermione shot one more grim look at Minerva and closed her eyes. Pain contorted her face, and the air suddenly smelt of frost and pine and canine and the chill in the air stung Minerva's nostrils when she inhaled; where Hermione had been standing was a massive shaggy coated wolf.
At least three feet at the shoulder, wolf Hermione looked to be more than two hundred pounds of solid muscle covered in brown fur that matched the young witch's hair exactly. The eyes were the same intelligent amber as both girl and fox.
"My goodness, what a creature you are!" Minerva exclaimed. The wolf's tail dropped, and its shoulders slumped. "Oh, my dear, I mean no censure. Did this form also choose you?" The wolf sneezed in agreement, exposing three inch long fangs, its nose still pointing in the general direction of the floor. Minerva placed her hands on the wolf's broad back and took a turn around the beast, noting its deep chest and wide stance. A book summoned from the shelves near the window slapped into her palm. She riffled through the pages.
"Hmmmmm. An extinct species, I think. Ah, Canis dirus. Extinct 12000 years." The wolf's ear cocked towards Minerva in interest. "Quite unusual." Minerva waved the book back into the shelf.
"Now, I'll show you something that should ease some of your concern." Minerva stepped into the clear space, her eyes sparking.
"Move aside a bit, my dear." The wolf inhaled, its nostrils filled with the musky smell of big cat. Minerva had been replaced by a long limbed, sloped back cat with light buff fur, dappled black. It matched the wolf pound for pound in size, and its formidable jaw was crowned by incisors that overhung its lower mandible. The edges of these teeth were serrated. The big cat rumbled low in its chest and head butted Hermione in the shoulder. The wolf yipped and swished its tail twice. And as suddenly as the cat had appeared, Minerva was back, in her green under-robe, and an exhilarated look on her face.
"Homotherium serum. Scimitar toothed cat. Extinct about 2000 years longer than your wolf, I believe. If you'll change back, we can discuss our shared oddity."
In a long blink, Hermione was back, in fetal position on the floor, shaking from the strain of the unfamiliar transformation.
"Oh, oh dear one." She swooped down on the young witch, her eyes kind, her voice soothing. "Tilley, a bar of chocolate if you please." Hermione felt the older woman's hand threading through her hair as she knelt next to her on the floor.
Tilley popped into the room, a large bar of Honeyduke's best in her small hand. "Miss Hermione, over work on your first day is not setting a good precedent for the term." Tilley scolded as Hermione struggled to sit up. Minerva grasped her elbows and brought Hermione into a sitting position against her chest.
"Now Tilley, leave her be." Minerva took the chocolate from the elf, unwrapped it, broke off a large hunk and pressed it into Hermione's hand. "Eat it all, 'Mione, and then take a nice shower, or have a long soak. Don't fash yourself about this strange magic, all well be well." Minerva's voice was low, her burr strong, and her eyes soft, all facts that didn't escape Tilley's keenly observant eyes.
Hermione huddled on the floor of the shower, trying to swallow her sobs. The relief of having someone else know the weirdness her magic had exhibited, and having that person's support was overwhelming. Her fears temporarily allayed, she allowed some of the tension of the last two years to leave her body.
Minerva's sensitive feline hearing caught the sounds of Hermione's choked off cries. The young woman must have been under such strain since the discovery that her magic had facets that she couldn't have predicted. Knowing Hermione as she did, Minerva was sure that the lack of control had been weighing heavily on her.
Minerva had an inkling as to why Hermione's magic had slipped from her grasp, but as much as she wanted to drop everything to help her young protege and friend, Minerva had to attend to the business of running the school. She had to meet with the Ministry officials, and at the very least, get Filius to finish the plans for the Welcome Feast. Then she could focus on Hermione.
Just before dusk, Minerva bustled back into her suite having spent the whole day arranging the broad strokes of what needed doing before the start of term. The details would be up to Filius. It had become clear to her that morning that for Hermione to be in any sort of shape to handle the start of term, they had some things to take care of.
The young woman in question was nowhere to be seen in the living area, though Minerva could sense her in the quarters. The door to both bedrooms and the bathroom were open, but Hermione was not in the bed that Minerva expected. Curled up into the tightest possible ball it could make, a small auburn fox had burrowed into Minerva's nightgown, half under her pillow.
That Hermione had retreated to animal form while she was gone told Minerva that the girl was emotionally distraught and in dire need of comfort and support, even if she didn't know it. Many years ago, it was Albus that had opened her eyes to the fact that whenever Minerva needed emotional succor without the hangups and awkwardness that would accompany asking for such a luxury in her human form, Minerva would become a small, sinfully soft tabby cat and twine herself around the ankles of her 'victim', a tactic that was nearly impossible to resist. Sirius had used the sad eyes of his hound form in much the same way.
Minerva toed off her boots, banished her outer robes and hair pins, and approached her bed on feet that rivaled her alter ego's for soundlessness. A single magical thought made her weightless enough not to disturb the mattress, and another brought the light cotton duvet folded at the foot of the bed drifting over to cover the both of them. Minerva curled herself around the fox, one hand under her head, and the other on its shoulders, and closed her eyes