An hour and a half later Hermione emerged from the Prefect's bathroom relaxed, clean, and neatly dressed in a pair of jeans and short sleeved camp shirt. Though she had used an inordinate number of towels, her hair was still damp, and in the cool interior of the castle, it made her feel clammy. An idea struck her.
She called out tentatively: "Tilley?"
The little elf appeared almost immediately. "Miss Hermione, I'm glad to see you up and about. You're feeling better, yes?"
"Yes, thank you. Largely in thanks to your fabulous cooking, I think."
"I do what I can, dear. Now what can I do for you this morning?"
"I'm embarrassed to ask this, but would you dry my hair for me?" She gestured vaguely at the castle walls. "I'd forgotten about the damp."
"Of course." The elf snapped her fingers and Hermione felt the moisture leave her hair and the damp patches on her shirt dry up.
"Thanks, Tilley."
"It's no trouble. Now, be sure and take it easy, and don't hesitate to call if you need a snack."
With a final, reassuring smile for Hermione, the elf was gone.
Hermione was nearly at the Headmistress's office off the main stairway when a glowing cat patronus trotted up to her and meowed. She bent down to it.
In Minerva's voice, it said: "The password to my office is petit renard." The patronus twined itself around Hermione's ankle, meowed again, and disappeared.
She whispered the words to the gargoyle and it slid aside with the sound of stone grinding against stone. There was a clamor from the right wall as soon as she stepped into the room. Every one of the portraits wanted a bit of her attention it seemed. Except Snape, who scowled, and Dumbledore, who nodded, sucking on some kind of candy.
She said her hellos, answered a few polite inquires after the health of her and her friends, and when the room had quieted, pulled one of Minerva's client chairs in front of Dumbledore's portrait.
"Did they paint you with the sweet tooth, or is it a reflection of your personality?" Hermione was curious about magical portraiture.
"A little bit of both, Miss Granger." He gestured to the bowl of candy on the table in his portrait. "A bottomless bowl of sherbet lemons was always a dream of mine. Though I do miss Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans quite a bit." Hermione giggled. The twinkle in the former Headmaster's painted eye was every bit as real and compelling as it had been in the flesh and blood man.
"It's nice to hear your voice again, Headmaster." She had not been as close to Dumbledore as Harry had been, but she missed him, just the same.
"Please, Hermione, call me Albus. Formality is meaningless when you're dead. And a painting." He grinned at her and popped another candy into his mouth. "Now I'm assuming Minerva sent you up here to quiz me about being a guardian of the Heart of the Moor, but there is something else I would like to discuss with you before the school year gets under way." He paused and leaned forward, craning his neck to look at the edges of the picture frames he could see above and beside him.
"You'll have to take me off the wall. They're not likely to leave if they think we're discussing something interesting." He raised his voice a little. "Horrible gossips, the lot of them." There were protests from some of the other portraits.
Hermione glanced around nervously. "Are you sure? No one will mind?"
"No one will mind, my dear. Just pop me down off the wall and we'll go have a nice chat in Minerva's quarters."
"If you insist, Headmaster." Hermione had many doubts about this, but arguing with Dumbledore had always been a bit of a lost cause.
"It's Albus, my dear, and I do insist."
She sighed and stood. She grasped the edges of the plain, but heavy, frame and pulled. The sticking charm that held it to the wall disengaged with a little pop. As soon as the frame came away from the wall, there was once again a clamor from the rest of the portraits.
"No commentary from the peanut gallery, if you please. We're just going for a stroll." Hermione said shortly.
It took Hermione nearly twenty minutes to wrestle the heavy, awkward frame through the hallways and into Minerva's quarters. She was intensely grateful that school was not yet in session and that she encountered no teachers while engaging in grand theft portrait.
Hermione positioned the frame against one arm of the sofa, and put her back against the other, pulling her knees to her chest. She said nothing. It was a tense few moments before Albus spoke.
"Hermione, I hope you will forgive an old man taking a few liberties, and please know I am risking quite a bit of ire by doing this, but I need to talk to you about Minerva." Hermione groaned out loud and dropped her head back onto the arm of the couch. Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic look.
"I know, I know, just hear me out, please." Dumbledore was clearly uncomfortable. Hermione dreaded finding out why.
"Beyond her abilities and accomplishments as a witch, Minerva is an extraordinary woman. You know that, probably better than anyone actually. I'm quite certain she's shown you a side of herself this past week that I have never seen, and I was her closest friend for six decades." Dumbledore looked at her appraisingly. Hermione maintained her silence.
"You have to understand that when someone Minerva loves is threatened, her first impulse is to fly to them, wand drawn, and it is an impulse that has won out more times than I care to count. It nearly won out a multitude of times when Harry, Ron and yourself were off finishing the task I was unable to complete while alive - it was only the dire situation at the school and the threats to the safety of its students that prevented her from seeking you out and offering her assistance. This summer, when she had an inkling that the situation between Ronald and yourself had grown sour, she, much like her namesake's progenitor, prepared for battle 'terrible eyes shining', to quote Homer." He leaned forward, stroking his beard.
"Mr. Weasley has no idea just how real the threat to his wellbeing was that day, Hermione. Minerva is not a woman who threatens violence lightly, and she was prepared to take apart the Ministry, brick by brick, Auror by Auror, to ensure your well-being. It was only a well timed intervention by Tilley that kept her from flying off to do battle for you that day." Hermione knew she should be shocked, maybe even appalled, that the woman she called mentor, friend and something more, was willing to harm others for her, but she wasn't. It only made her realize she was safe and loved, intensifying the feelings she had had since Minerva had met her at the gates to Hogwarts four days ago. She kept her face expressionless.
"Should I be shocked?" She asked the painting. Albus actually seemed relieved that she wasn't.
"No, Hermione. I'm very glad you have some idea of the depth of feeling she has for you. I know at the moment that life seems a little disjointed, but I have faith that you will come through these trials well, particularly with Minerva by your side. Just please, be strong for her. She needs your temperance and your forethought. And your love." Hermione blushed.
"I'm not trying to dictate the way in which the two of you conduct your relationship, Hermione. Just love her in the best way you are able. She needs you, and Hogwarts will need both of you."
"I need her too, Professor." The painting scowled at her. "Albus," she corrected. "I knew that Minerva would be an important part of my life when she crept into my room in Grimmauld Place on little gray paws the summer before fifth year."
Hermione paused a moment, contemplating, eyes focused on a point far away. "I find myself wondering why I didn't always love her. And thinking that maybe I did." Now the lingering blush on her cheeks in belied by the fierce look in her eyes. "For me to leave now she'll have to force me, or I'll have to be ripped away."
Her own fierceness felt vindicating to Hermione, and Albus appeared to feel the same way. The desire to blush and hide her face in her hands, away from the older wizard's piercing gaze still plagued her, but she resisted the urge.
Hermione looked at Albus a few moments more. "Would you like me to take you back to the office?"
"No, my dear. Tilley or Minerva can do it. Why don't you go have a little lie down."
Hermione almost protested, but thought better of it. She shuffled into Minerva's bedroom, lost in thought, shucked off her jeans, and curled up on the bed, under the duvet.