Chapter 3
The next few weeks passed quickly as Hermione concentrated on repairing the castle by day and studying for the N.E.W.T. exams each evening. Harry had stayed true to his word, helping with the repairs for two weeks before taking time to spend with Ginny. While he was at Hogwarts they fell into the easy rhythm they had established while on the run. Often they worked together while Ron sulked in other areas of the castle. It wasn't until ten days in that Ron had finally joined them. Hermione had tried to make him feel comfortable around her, but that had only seemed to infuriate him. Finally, Harry had called him a prat and demanded he stop moping around.
They had made significant progress with restoring the Great Hall and the Grand Staircase. Over the last week she had worked by Minerva's side. Ron, feeling rather uncomfortable around them, had stopped coming around each morning to help. Hermione felt a bit guilty, but she would not give up any opportunity she had to spend time with Minerva. She had found herself seeking out Minerva more and more, finding the woman fascinating. They met a few times a week on the pretext of discussing the N.E.W.T.s, but their talks often spread over to more personal topics rather quickly during each visit. And when they did not talk, they sat and read. Or stared serenely into the fireplace as the flames swayed. Or caught up on paperwork.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, Hermione looked around the courtyard. This was where the final showdown had occurred. It was where Hagrid had held Harry in his arms, believing he was dead. Hermione had heard a horrible shout, one filled with anguish and disbelief—Minerva's response when Voldermort had proclaimed that Harry was dead. Soon after Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had voiced their own screams as Mr. Weasley had been forced to hold Ginny back from charging at the Dark Lord.
Hermione had never felt so helpless and enraged as during those fifteen minutes when she, like everyone else present, had believed her best friend to be dead. She felt a shudder work through her as her eyes surveyed the area again. The arches needed to be repaired, the broken walls and uneven ground a testament to the final battle. Rubble littered the area, rocks of all sizes, dirt, mortar, bricks…the place was an absolute mess. This would be no easy task.
A warm hand on her upper arm alerted her to Minerva's presence. "Are you well, Hermione?" she asked, her concern evidenced by the Scottish burr infused in her question. Her accent tended to strengthen when intense emotions were attached. No doubt she was also remembering that decisive day.
"Yes," she said, not really sure but unwilling to worry Minerva. Their relationship was deepening, becoming something she craved, depended on. She did not want to burden Minerva with these memories. Certainly, Minerva had lived through enough nightmares. Those experiences, though, were best shared at night with the lull of the roaring fire, a glass of mulled wine, and the unspoken promise of acceptance. Not here, not in the light of day where one could not hide from the fear, the shame, the uncertainty, the pain. No, not here.
"Why don't I believe you, Hermione?" Minerva said softly.
Hermione could feel the stare and finally turned her head to meet those piercing eyes directly. "Sometimes the memories crowd in. It takes a moment to remind myself that Harry is alive and well, as are others I love." Her voice faded as she gazed into darkening eyes. She felt the weight of those eyes as they sliced through every wall of self preservation as if they were made of gossamer. She didn't really understand why she wanted to hide, but she did.
It should be no surprise to Minerva that she was so important to Hermione, had become even more important over the last few weeks, and would continue to be essential to Hermione's happiness. And yet the look of astonishment and joy told a different story. Hermione placed her hand over the one still on her arm and squeezed. It seemed to break the tension, and they smiled at each other.
"Tea tonight?" Minerva invited, her voice light.
"There's no place I'd rather be," Hermione answered seriously. Searching eyes jumped between her brown eyes seeking the truth of her words, but Hermione withstood the scrutiny, reminding herself sternly that she had nothing to hide and no reason to fear these feelings, this yearning to spend time with Minerva.
"Nor I," Minerva whispered. Breaking their intense stare, Minerva turned her head toward the courtyard. "Shall we begin?" she asked and walked toward the northern portion of the yard. With a grin, Hermione joined her.
They had taken to spending time in Minerva's private rooms instead of her office on nights they met for tea. Hermione preferred to be surrounded by Minerva's belongings, her personal effects, her aura. She felt honored that Minerva trusted her enough as to reveal herself in this way.
"I'd like you to consider working toward your animagus mastery," Minerva said after an hour of comfortable silence. Hermione had been reviewing some material on Potions, and it took a moment for the import of Minerva's words to sink in. They were well into June, yet the nights became chilly enough that drinking tea while seated in front of a blazing fire in Minerva's living room was a welcome treat for Hermione.
Thankfully, Minerva did not seem to mind having Hermione stake out a spot on her sofa and remain there for hours. If anything, she encouraged it. Over time they had discussed all of Hermione's experiences while on the run as well as the events that had occurred at Hogwarts.
Tonight they had discussed the Ministry's actions and to what extent Voldemort had infiltrated the highest levels of government. Hermione had been horrified with how far-reaching his influence had spread, and she was once again glad that Minerva had been at Hogwarts to protect the next generation of witches and wizards.
"You, are you offering to be my mentor?" she asked, astounded by the offer. As far as she knew, Minerva had not mentored anyone since before the first war with Voldemort over twenty years ago.
"Yes. It will be hard work, but I have no reason to believe that you cannot attain animagus status. You are brilliant and dedicated. If you are willing, I promise to teach you all that I know."
Humbled by the offer, Hermione smiled broadly. "Thank you, Minerva. I will prove to you that your belief in me is not misplaced."
"Very well. We will begin training immediately after you finish sitting for your N.E.W.T. exams."
"Do you have a timeline in mind?" Hermione asked, her attention fully on Minerva, who sat with her legs folded beneath her, leaning against the far arm of the sofa with a book spread over her thighs.
"Yes. You seem to have your studies well in hand. Tell me, did you study some of the seventh year materials while you were in hiding?"
Hermione flushed, a reaction she did not quite understand since she should not feel embarrassed for wanting to improve her skills. It might have been the deciding factor, the reason why she had survived. Why they all had. "Yes. I brought all my seventh year textbooks, but I was unable to practice as much as I had desired." She looked up at Minerva, relaxing as she saw pride and approval shining through bright green eyes.
"You continuously surprise me, Hermione." Minerva smiled. "It explains quite a bit," she murmured. "With your permission, I will arrange for you to take your exams three weeks before the new school year is to begin. I am closing Hogwarts for the last two weeks of the summer break, but the Hogwarts' professors have already volunteered to offer the N.E.W.T. exams to you beforehand, and I will administer the Transfiguration exam to you myself."
A smile broke out over Hermione's face as she took in the words. The confidence Minerva displayed for Hermione's skills instilled her with such a strong feeling of belief in her abilities that she immediately felt her fears recede. She could do this. She would do this.
"The only subjects I have not had the opportunity to prepare for are Potions and Arithmancy. Of course, I could always use more practice with Charms and Transfiguration. Oh, and I wouldn't mind reviewing Herbology and Ancient Runes—"
"Hermione," Minerva cut in, chuckling at Hermione as she became agitated. She placed a placating hand on Hermione's leg. "Stop. Tomorrow night we will start working on Potions. The rest, you have been studying diligently. You are one of the most gifted witches I have ever known. Have faith in your abilities."
Nodding, Hermione tried to still her mind. She stared at the fire as she thought of all the N.E.W.T.s she intended to take. "How many exams may I take each day?"
Minerva's startled expression morphed into a pensive look. "What subjects were you thinking about taking? As I recall you have the opportunity to take ten N.E.W.T.s—however, I do not believe anyone has attempted to take so many, and I do not believe it necessary for you to do so."
"I disagree. I want to take them all. If I take two a day, I will be finished by the end of the week before the school is closed," Hermione countered.
"But why, Hermione? What is driving you?" Minerva asked, her voice clearly conveying her confusion and concern.
"I just, I need to, Minerva. I need to prove to myself that I can do this. And who knows where my path will lead. This will ensure that I have options."
"You do have options, my dear. Everyone knows of your cunning, bravery, and intelligence. You do not need to prove anything to anyone. You have shown through your actions time and again your mastery of all these subjects."
"But I do have to prove myself, Minerva. Can't you see that? I am a mudblood—Muggle-born, viewed as inferior. I must prove that I am worthy, that I belong in the wizarding community, that your faith in me is not misplaced…" Hermione looked away as tears forms under her eyelids. She cursed, not wanting to break down yet again in front of Minerva. What was it about this woman that brought such intense emotions to the surface?
"Is that what this is about?" Minerva's pained voice compelled Hermione to look toward the older witch. "You think you are not worthy?" Her features tightened as eyebrows pulled forward, making Hermione shrink back into the sofa. Minerva's eyes darkened with anger, flashing with emotion. "How can you think that? Do you think so little of my judgment, my ability to determine a person's abilities, that I would mistakenly believe you to be gifted?"
"What? I, no—"
"No! Do you think I would offer to become your mentor, to teach you all I know about becoming an animagus if you did not have the aptitude and drive to succeed? Would I waste my time and skill on you, only to have you fail?" Minerva raged.
"I hadn't thought about it like that. I thought—"
"No. You did not think about it. And your insecurities are baseless and unworthy of who you truly are. The notion that you need to prove anything to me—it is completely absurd. If you must take all ten N.E.W.T.s to prove something to yourself, so be it. But do not do it to gain some illusionary level of approval from me or anyone else. It is not necessary or appreciated." Minerva got up and paced to the window, looking out into the still night.
Not knowing why Minerva was so upset, Hermione was unsure what to do."I am sorry, Minerva," Hermione said meekly. "I did not mean to insult you. I trust your judgment implicitly. I guess I am just afraid that you have placed too much faith in me. I don't want to ever become complacent. I have so much more to learn, and I want to keep learning. I hope to always feel the compulsion to keep learning. And you are one of the most brilliant witches in history. I find it hard to accept that you find value in spending time with me. I have cherished every moment we have shared..." Hermione stared at Minerva's back, noting the rounded shoulders, shoulders that shook minutely. Was that the effect of anger or was she fighting tears?
Rising from the sofa, Hermione approached Minerva and hesitantly placed a hand on one of those shaking shoulders. "Please forgive me, Minerva," Hermione pleaded softly. In the next moment sure arms pulled her into a strong embrace as Minerva's tears splashed onto Hermione's neck.
"If I could have prevented what Bellatrix did to you, I would have. I hope you know that," Minerva said, anger and despair running through her words. "I should have done more to protect you. I could have taken additional steps to ensure your safety—"
"Shhh, Minerva," Hermione said as she held on tightly, fighting her own tears. "You had a school to protect, thousands of students within it, and a corrupt governing body to fight. You are only one woman—one of the most powerful without question, but still, you could not do more than you did. I did not expect your help, and you should not second-guess your past actions."
"Or inaction," she said bitterly.
"Minerva," Hermione whispered. Pulling back a bit, she leaned her forehead against Minerva's and closed her eyes. "I am trying to work through my feelings for what occurred over the last year. It is not easy." Hermione swallowed reflexively, making herself say the next words. "I felt violated, worthless, and weak. It will take time for me to move past those feelings, as irrational as they are."
Hermione opened her eyes and stared into cloudy eyes so close to hers before continuing. "Your faith in me has helped me more than you know. I have come to rely on it, on you, to such an extent that it scares me, but I know I can trust you. These exams are a way for me to reaffirm my worth. It is something I must do so I can move forward. Do you understand?"
Their breath mingled as they gazed into each other's eyes. Elegant fingers combed through Hermione's hair before pulling her head into the crook of Minerva's neck, the other arm sliding around her waist in a fierce hug. "I understand, Hermione, and I will help you."
Feeling a weight fall off her shoulders, Hermione returned the hug and whispered, "Thank you."