Hermione never made it down to the dining hall that night; Harry hadn't wanted to court the stares of 400 curious students, so Tilley had filled a few plates for the two of them and they ate in the peace and quiet of the headmistress's private quarters.
Apparently after having voiced his concerns, Harry was content to talk about other, more neutral things, but Hermione suspected that she hadn't heard the last of the matter from him. Nevertheless, she was content to talk to him about her first week in the classroom and the last few months of his Auror apprenticeship.
He also gave her updates about the people she had left behind - the people she wanted to think of as family, but had never felt entirely comfortable around. Molly was on the warpath - on more than warpath. Alternately raging at the ministry for forcing Ronald into psychiatric treatment, and livid that they hadn't done it sooner. She was also cognizant of Hermione's decamping from the good ship Ronald, though, thankfully, her attention was diverted for the moment. This information made the hair on Hermione's arms stand up in bad feeling - Molly Weasley was a force of nature, and that force had, in the past, been turned on Hermione to make her life harder than it needed to be.
The rest of the Weasley family was keeping their heads down. Molly was nearly impossible to talk to when she was in such a state, so things were tense around the Burrow. Harry was glad that he had his own flat near the Ministry. Ginny lived with him when she wasn't traveling with the Harpies, who were currently on an extended trip for semi-finals, so it was quite possible that she had no idea what was going on.
"I'm dreading what Molly will do when she sets her sights on me - and when she finds out about me and Minerva."
Harry pulled a face, an impressive grimace. "She'll make a lot of noise, like she's doing now, no doubt. I dunno if she'll go after Minerva directly, though, 'Mione. You do realize there are a lot of people in the wizarding world that are more than a little afraid of her, and I'm sure that she'll protect you from Molly's hot air."
"I'm sure she'll try, but what about her reputation, and the school's reputation?" Hermione rubbed at her temples. "This could be such a big mess for her."
"You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
"What do you mean?" Hermione countered, dissembling.
"Don't let Molly Weasley dictate how you live your life, Hermione. You don't owe her or anyone else anything, Hermione. Not after everything that happened, and not before."
"So I should let her ruin someone else's life?"
"You shouldn't make a decision about someone else without consulting them. Especially when that person is Minerva McGonagall. Trust me, Hermione. You don't hang around the Ministry all day like I do - she can take care of herself, and you, and the school, no problem."
Harry wasn't sure that Hermione even heard him, she was already so deep in a spiral of worry. For someone who put no stock in divination, his friend sure liked to spend an inordinate amount of time imagining the worst possible outcomes of a situation. He had half a mind to call McGonagall and tell her what was going on with 'Mione, but truth be told, he was terrified of McGonagall - and also a bit scared of Hermione - so he'd try to deal with this himself, first.
"'Mione!" he said sharply, drawing her attention away from maelstrom of worry that she'd immersed herself in. He hadn't seen much of her in the past few years - definitely not as much as he'd wanted, to be sure - but this sort of obsessive worry was exactly the sort of thing that had characterized their few one-on-one visits. In those instances, it had been Ron's issues and the potential media and professional fallout for all of them that had occupied her mind. Although the war had been hard on Hermione, Harry thought that it was Rita Skeeter that had done the most damage to his friend over the course of their time at Hogwarts.
His louder tone had the effect he desired, and Hermione's eyes jerked up to his.
"'Mione, you can't let Molly and Rita Skeeter and the Daily Prophet run your life. You can't. They're going to say what they're going to say. I don't know what is between you and Minerva, but I do know that she's an amazing person that is worthy of whatever you want to give her."
Hermione looked at him through reddened eyes, she already looked broken, like she'd lost everything, and he supposed that she had, considering the upheaval she'd been through in the past few weeks. He felt like he shouldn't have come here; like he should have let her get some distance from her old life before he came here to inquire about the new one.
"This place is a perfect fit for you, and Minerva obviously feels strongly for you, as you do for her. Don't throw it away."
"I won't, Harry, I won't." She made a miserable noise, a groan of sorts that spoke of years of anxiety and fear. "I'm just so scared."
"It's okay to be scared, 'Mione. I'm scared too, sometimes. But I don't let it mess with how I live my life. Not any more."
Harry left before Minerva returned to the quarters - not on purpose; they had continued talking, and Hermione felt significantly improved from her meltdown. There was no denying that she was scared of the damage people could do to Minerva, or to her, but she wanted this. Her life here was everything she'd ever dreamed of - learning advanced magic, and someone who truly understood her. She loved Harry, and she had loved Ron, they were her friends, but they hadn't really understood what motivated her beyond her need to be liked. They might get that she needed to acquire knowledge continuously, but they didn't understand why. They learned what they needed, and sometimes not even that.
She was laying on the couch, flat on her back, when a darling, and familiar tabby jumped onto her belly. It spun around twice, then curled up, purring. Hermione scratched delicately behind the cat's ears, and it purred harder.
"And what have you been up to, Miss Kitty Cat," she asked, unable to suppress a giggle - Minerva was feeling playful. She meowed, then jumped again, slipping back into her human form and stepping down into the space between the couch and the coffee table.
"I received an interesting fire call from a friend of mine at Jourdemayne, an expert in sympathetic magic," Minerva pronounced, her eyes flashing with the passion she had for new and interesting sorceries.
"That was fast!" Hermione sat up, immediately intrigued.
"Apparently responding to odd inquiries is what Oxford professors do with their Sunday afternoons."
"Please," scoffed Hermione. "Who would consider an inquiry from you 'casual'."
"Yes, well," Minerva sniffed. "There are some advantages to being me."
This elicited another giggle from Hermione. For a moment, she marveled at how quickly the megrims brought up by Harry's questions had disappeared - Minerva just had that effect on her.
"Well! Tell me!"
"Well, Professor Paula Gladstone, she of many degrees, tells me that the spell used to erode our barriers originates at the very latest in the neolithic period - there are representations of this particular sorcerous work on many stone age tombs."
"How popular is neolithic sorcery as a topic of study these days?"
"It has been gaining in popularity as a subject of inquiry. 'Everything old is new again' and et cetera. There is a growing interest in the anthropology of magic, in cultures all over the world."
"But practical studies of sympathetic magic? That involves sacrifice of magical creatures?" Just saying those words made Hermione shudder.
"A modern magic user would have to already be comfortable with the dark arts, or else exceedingly motivated, to consider using a spell such as this."
"So the person who tried to break the Hogwarts wards - something every Briton would know is a grave offense - could have been anyone who enjoys the study of ancient magics?" If they couldn't track down the person responsible, they would have to increase their guard. As would the centaurs and unicorns.
"It's not as terrible as all that, my dear. These particular sorts of spells are under similar restrictions as the dark magic section in Hogwarts library. Students and researchers must have a reason to access them."
"What about the sites where the spells were recorded?"
"Protected ruins, restricted access, just like muggle historical sites." Minerva pursed her lips in consideration of the problem. "Disturbances therein could be something to look in to."
"Could we take a field trip?" Hermione asked, eager all of a sudden to visit the historical sites of her homeland.
Minerva laughed, then smiled fondly at her. Hermione could only describe the look in her eyes as adoring, and it was matched by what Hermione could feel pulsing in the other woman's chest. "That could probably be arranged, 'Mione. I would be happy to explore some ancient cairns and stone circles with you."
Hermione sighed happily and let herself list until she was leaning against Minerva, who smelt of lavender and comfort. She could hardly contain herself when she felt Minerva's arm slide around her shoulders and pull her closer.
"How did your chat with Harry go?" Minerva asked, her voice softening; Hermione should have realized that Minerva wouldn't fail to check in with her, to make sure she was alright.
"It wasn't terrible - a little awkward, but that's fairly standard for heart to heart conversations with boys, I've found." Hermione knew she was hedging, and knew she should be honest with the woman that, from what Hermione could feel from the Heart's gift, was beginning to love her. On top of that, if Hermione was honest with herself, she was beginning to feel the same about Minerva.
"You seemed quite…distraught when I came back. I could see it on your face - and smell the stress hormones that you were producing, as well."
"You can smell things like that?" Hermione wanted to know, incredulous.
"I can. You can as well, with some practice, and familiarity." Then Minerva's voice changed dramatically, softening and thickening; "Please tell me, little fox - please, let me in."
Hermione grasped Minerva's hand, and squeezed. "I'm scared," she managed to say, her voice small and holding a definite quaver. "I don't want anyone to ruin this - any of it."
Minerva sighed, and Hermione felt her fingers tangling themselves in her hair. "Who could possibly ruin this, Hermione?"
"What if someone goes screaming to the press, and tries to turn this in to something dirty? The Ministry, and the Board of Governors? You could lose your job, and I could be left with no one, and nowhere to go."
"I'm sorry you're scared, darling. Perhaps we should have talked about this sooner, but you and I are, unless we choose otherwise, tied to this school and this forest with a bond that only the Heart can break. I doubt that it would be inclined to do so unless we asked, and a number of other conditions were met, not the least of which would include finding replacements for ourselves. The Heart has always identified potential guardians in the student body - perhaps two or three such people in a generation - even now that it is conscious and sentient, that has not changed." Minerva sighed again, and Hermione could feel creeping dread and niggling self-doubt broadcasting over her bond with the other woman.
"Suffice it to say, getting rid of us would be a difficult proposition for either the Board or the Ministry, and I would be happy to discuss this with you in greater detail, if you like, if it would help ease your mind."
"Would being attached to a much younger woman not hurt your reputation as an educator?" Hermione asked, trying to phrase the question delicately. "The wizarding papers can be as vicious as the muggle tabloids."
"There would be gossip and media attention regardless of who either of us become attached to, Hermione. Rita Skeeter and her ilk, and those who take what she says as gospel truth are not worth your time or your worry."
"I know. It's not rational. I'm just…I'm happy here, Minnie. I belong here," she said with some force. "And I don't want anyone to take that or you away from me."