They spent an idyllic few days in the house on the moors, Minerva dealing with work and correspondence only a little, trusting Tilley and Filius as her lieutenants back at Hogwarts. Tilley herself popped in and out, preparing meals and briefing the Headmistress on the state of things at the school. Minerva tried to insist that she was capable of preparing their meals, that Tilley need not apparate to and from Hogwarts two and three times a day, but the little elf heard none of it, insisting that Minerva had a frightening tendency to walk away from a boiling pot, and despite the charms against fire in the kitchen (and the rest of the house), Tilley was not willing to risk it. And Minerva expected that she enjoyed cooking for the three of them in the homey kitchen that had been her domain for nearly a century.
Minerva had been desperately hopeful that things would not slide into awkwardness after their confessions and that little scene in the bedroom the first morning of their stay. There hadn't been any awkwardness, only the slight shyness and hesitancy of two people interacting in an entirely new way and on an entirely new level, but that didn't last long at all, and before the end of their stay it was almost as if they had never been student and teacher. In the library one evening, chatting with Ewan's portrait, Hermione had remarked that being in a place that had no history for them together had probably helped them come to a place where they were on more equal footing. Minerva agreed, but she also wasn't so naive as to believe that the rest of the world would come to the same conclusion as quickly.
It was was with reluctance that they stepped out on to the lawn at the end of their holiday to apparate back to Hogwarts and real life. Hermione slid an arm around Minerva's waist and leaned in; magic swirled around them, the usual discomfort of side-along apparation muted by whatever connection they had to the Heart. They disappeared, and before Hermione could blink her eyes, they were standing in the entryway to the castle, stone walls rising around them like granite cliffs, the wide, familiar stairs leading away into the interior. As Hermione's vision grew accustomed to the dim light shining through the tall windows, she could have sworn that the two gargoyles standing sentry at the base of the stair case shifted a little, the feathers on their exquisitely rendered wings fluttering a little.
Professor Flitwick came bustling towards them, seemingly appearing out of nowhere from a far corner of the entryway. Still ensconced within Minerva's arm, Hermione noted his slight look of startlement, quickly schooled away, when he saw how they were standing.
"Minerva, there is some trouble with the two other new apprentices," he squeaked agitatedly.
"Already? Haven't they only just arrived?"
Heaving a great sigh and looking thoroughly put out, he answered, "Ms. Orpington has told me repeatedly that she can't possibly be expected to live in the room provided for her, and has refused to share a bathroom with the other apprentices. And Mr. Longbottom seems to have managed to fold an extra dimension into his packing spell and consequently cannot access any of his belongings."
"Poor Neville," murmured Hermione. He must have been excited or nervous while packing to have made that mistake.
"Do you think you could assist Mr. Longbottom, Hermione? I cannot imagine that my appearing in his quarters will have a beneficial impact on his state of mind."
"Of course, Minnie," she agreed amiably, though in truth she was a bit nervous about seeing Neville again - it had been a long time, and she had pretty much dropped contact with no explanation. She hoped he would forgive her; or at least forgo the awkward questions.
"Anything else that needs dealing with, Filius?" Minerva asked briskly, falling back in to business mode easily.
"Hagrid isn't due back until tonight, and there's a thestral with an abscessed hoof, and it seems the new tower has thrown off the Great Hall approach for post-owls, which I was in the process of handling before our apprentices arrived and promptly kicked up a fuss."
Minerva spared a sigh for the sometimes ridiculous work that a thousand-year-old castle and a never-ending stream of school children could cause. "I'll need to change before dealing with the Orpington girl," Minerva pronounced, gesturing at her casual, muggle trousers and jumper. "Then I'll deal with the thestral, as I know how you feel about the creatures. Filius, could you show Hermione where the apprentice quarters are? I'll be along shortly."
With Filius's assent, he and Hermione began a twisting stroll through the castle's hallways while Minerva strode off towards their quarters. Hermione kept her pace slow in deference to the professor's short legs.
"So how was your holiday," he asked with a knowing, but also slightly curious, look, as if he wasn't sure of his suspicions, or wasn't sure what she'd tell him. And truthfully she wasn't sure what she should say; 'oh it was lovely, Minnie and I cuddled and ran around on the moors and read books for a week' wasn't really an appropriate answer at this stage of her changing relationship with Professor Flitwick.
"It was very nice," Hermione hedged. "Just what I needed."
Recalling how relaxed Minerva had appeared to be, Filius said earnestly, "It seems it was just what Minerva needed as well."
Hermione tried not to look inordinately pleased with his assessment, confining herself to a small smile, averting her eyes to look down at her feet.
The apprentice-cum-teaching assistants were offered quarters in a massive new tower that had been magically constructed for that purpose. A portrait secured by password opened into a very comfortably appointed common room, complete with a few muggle conveniences, like a television, a kitchen with modern appliances, and a telephone. Hermione wondered if they'd managed to run electricity to the school, or if the appliances had been converted to run on magic. Probably the latter. A bright young man that had graduated the year before Hermione had begun at Hogwarts had recently patented a safe and relatively easy way to do such things, so now the devices were all the rage among younger witches and wizards.
Hermione crossed the deserted room to the stairs that Professor Flitwick had pointed out before taking his leave, presumably to deal with his post-owl problem. It was five flights up to Neville's room; each floor had a landing lit by tall windows, and contained two apartments. Hermione jogged up the steps to the fifth floor - the door to Neville's room was hanging partially open, but she knocked on the door frame anyway.
"Neville, are you in there?" she queried gently. A crash sounded from within the room, and the door was flung open. Neville was even taller than the last time Hermione had seen him, the summer after Voldemort's demise. She found herself caught up in a hug, her feet no longer touching the ground; she hugged back as best she could.
"Sorry," he mumbled, looking every bit the slightly bashful boy she remembered, after putting her back on her feet. "It's been a long time. What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to help you with your luggage problem," Hermione answered blithely, ignoring the apology (because it was nice that he was excited to see her) and the remark about how long it had been (she really hoped she wouldn't have to explain).
"But what are you doing here," he gestured expansively at the castle around them, "at Hogwarts?"
"I'm to be Professor MacInnes's assistant in the classroom," Hermione turned her attention to the large duffle bag that was sitting on the bed. She gave it a little prod; sure enough there was an extra dimension in the spell - another fold in the little pocket that held Neville's gear, preventing him from reaching his hand in and pulling out his stuff. Now distracted by a magical problem to solve, she said distractedly, "and I'm Professor McGonagall's apprentice in Transfiguration."
She pulled out her wand; Neville's mistake was the product of an extra flourish of the wand during a critical part of the spell, she could reverse it easily. Harry had made this same mistake all the time. Boys and their wand flourishes.
Neville remained quiet while she worked, then gasped when she vanished her wand again.
"Wicked," he hissed. "How'd you do that?" Hermione chuckled, the spell she used to vanish her clothes and personal items when she transformed into her animagus was actually a variant of the one she'd just fixed for Neville.
"Just a little trick Professor McGonagall showed me."
"So what floor did you pick?"
It took Hermione a second to realize that Neville was referring to the tower.
"Oh, I'm not…" she began.
"The one across from me is still open," he said in a rush, interrupting her.
"I have a room in Professor McGonagall's quarters," she stated decisively. Neville gaped. "With our schedules, I have to be close or I'll never receive any training or be able to assist with her work - it's not like we'll be spending all day in a classroom together."
"But in her quarters!" exclaimed Neville. "Isn't it awkward?"
"Professor McGonagall is an excellent roommate, Neville. Much better than Harry and Ron, I can assure you."
"Well, that's setting the bar pretty low, Hermione," he quipped. They both laughed.
They parted with promises to meet up in the dining hall, and tentative plans to meet Luna for a meal in Hogsmeade if their weekend wasn't too busy.