Hermione clung to Minerva all night like a long, leggy limpet. Minerva had never slept better. She awoke early, and not wanting to wake Hermione, adjourned to the living room, planning to finish a peer review for Transfiguration Quarterly, her discipline's scholarly journal. Feeling so refreshed and in the quiet of the morning, it was easy to collect her thoughts and provide some meaningful feedback for the young American witch whose theory she was critiquing. She had just finished when Hermione shuffled out of the bedroom, blinking blearily at her.
"Glad to see you ambulatory, Hermione." Minerva greeted cheerfully. She sealed the letter and banished it to the owlery as Hermione slumped onto the sofa. She groaned.
"You are altogether too cheerful for this early hour, Minerva McGonagall. I bet you've already accomplished a thousand and one impossible things, and you haven't even had breakfast." Hermione mock glared at her around her hair.
"Only a thousand things, Hermione. The rest will have to wait until we break our fast."
"Mmmm, what's for breakfast? It's been a while since dinner."
"Let's find out, shall we?" Minerva summoned her tray, knowing Tilley would have started cooking as soon as she was aware Minerva was awake and moving around. The tray appeared on the table, the small silver chocolate pot next to it. Minerva's tea service appeared a moment later. Minerva poured tea for herself and chocolate for Hermione while the girl heaped eggs, summer sausage and hot griddle cakes on a plate.
They both tucked in, eating too single mindedly for much conversation. Hermione sighed when she had cleared her plate, and leaned back to finish her hot chocolate.
"I hope I don't get sick of chocolate before I get my reserves back. That would be a shame." She sounded mournful, but the look on her face as she sipped the drink spoke more of bliss than of indifference.
"Hermione, if you get sick of what is essentially Honeyduke's best melted and thinned with a bit of milk, I will eat my best hat, and Tilley her favorite tea towel." Minerva said firmly.
"I'll hold you to that, Minerva." She sipped at the chocolate again and eyed Minerva speculatively. "That would be quite a thing to see. Your best hat is rather large. And pointy." They both chuckled at the mental image.
"What's on the schedule for today?" Hermione asked. They were curled up on the couch reading the Daily Prophet. Hermione had laid her head on Minerva's shoulder with no hesitation, preferring to read along rather than take her own section of the paper.
"Your schedule is to take it easy, my dear." Hermione made a face. "A splash in the prefect's bathroom or my tub? A morning in the library? A chat with the portraits about your new status?"
"Hmmmmm." Hermione was contemplating her options. "A soak would be nice. And one can never know too much about one's newly acquired ancient magical powers." Minerva was quite enamored of Hermione's dry sense of humor. And that they could comfortably poke fun at one another.
"Be sure to leave some mysteries for another day, little fox." Minerva teased.
Hermione pulled a face at her. "I'm sure you were the very picture of patience and quietude when Professor Dumbledore told you that you were practically a demigod."
"The very model of. No, more than that; I was the very essence of magnanimity and benevolent patience, I assure you."
Hermione giggled and gently prodded Minerva softly in the torso beneath her ribcage with elbow. "Silly witch," she whispered fondly.
She snaked her arm around Minerva's and grasped the older witch's wrist, snuggling just a bit closer, though they were already so close you couldn't have threaded even a single sheet of newsprint between them.
"What are you doing today, Min?" Minerva grunted at a news item about the Scottish National Quidditch team, mostly to cover the croak that nearly slipped out when Hermione began fondly trailing her fingertips up and down Minerva's forearm.
"Well, as Filius is inspecting the train and the boats for the First Years, it falls upon me to cast my notoriously picky eye on the thestrals and carriages and by then I am sure there will be at least two dozen letters waiting on my desk." She banished the paper and stilled Hermione's hand. "After lunch, we can reevaluate your energy level, but I hope you will abstain from any magic today, Hermione." She squeezed the young witch's hand. "You could do real damage to yourself."
"I'll take it easy today, I promise." She squeezed Minerva's hand back. They sat there for a few moments more, holding hands and enjoying the quiet, until Minerva had to excuse herself to prepare for the day.
While Minerva was in the shower, Hermione put on her robe and slippers and slipped a clean change of clothes and a pair of flats into an old canvas bag. She left a ordinary, nonmagical, handwritten note for Minerva on the coffee table:
Min,
Headed to the Prefect's bathroom for a soak.
Be safe; no thestral bites. I'll see you at noon in
our quarters for lunch.
'Mione
Minerva left the bathroom to find the suite empty. The note on the table made her smile a little in wonderment. She folded it carefully and tucked it in the pocket of her robes.