Chapter 3: In Fate's Hands

Author's Note: There are Pottermore spoilers in this chapter. I've also decided that my update day will either be Saturdays or Sundays. :) Yay decisions~ Oh, and it has come to my attention that one of the errors in the last chapter was that it is Rose Weasley who is in Scorpius' year, not James' younger sister, Lily. For the sake of this FF since there are no next-gen Weasley children, I'll be making Lily Potter the child in Scorpius' year, with Albus Severus Potter being younger and not attending Hogwarts as of yet. So the two Potter children have switched places, with James still being the eldest child.

The cup of tea in her hands was warm, almost too warm to touch. Instead of placing the delicate china on the table to cool, Hermione grasped it tightly, willing the burning sensation to continue. Willing herself to feel.

The first week of classes had passed well enough; Professor Granger was a nice woman with soft eyes and a firm, yet delicate way of speaking to her students. It fooled everyone into thinking that she was fine and coping marvelously with the changes in her life. No husband to greet with a kiss upon returning home, no cat brushing against her feet as she tried to rush to work, no concerned coworkers' eyes reflecting the pools of emptiness in her eyes. Only ungraded papers to greet at night, lost and wandering students embarrassingly asking for directions around the castle, and eyes filled with excitement and promise for the future.

Minerva McGonagall could see past Hermione's exterior to the raw emotion within. The fires of Ms. Granger's heart had not been extinguished, only smothered by circumstances beyond the young witch's control. "Ms. Granger," the woman said softly, taking hold of Hermione's wrists and forcing herself to place the cup on her desk. "If you hold onto that for too long you'll be unable to hold your wand comfortably."

Slowly prying her fingers from the cup, Hermione placed her hands in her lap and stared at the dark, steaming liquid. "Forgive me, Headmistress. I'm not the most talkative tonight."

"Minerva, please," the woman said, clasping her hands together and placing them on the desk. The pair was sitting in the elder woman's office for their weekly tea date, a tradition Minerva insisted upon. It was only their second meeting, but she knew that Hermione would warm up to their meetings soon enough. She just needed a little push in the right direction. "I would prefer you call me Minerva, Hermione. You're not my student anymore, and I would prefer us be on more friendly terms, especially after all that we've been through together."

Hermione nodded stiffly, the words barely registering. "Of course."

There was a moment of silence in which Minerva watched the young witch. She surmised that Hermione put on a brave face for the sake of the rest of the staff and the students, but being in Dumbledore's old office must have torn her armor down. "How does it feel," she began softly, "Being back at Hogwarts? I'm sure there are many difficult memories for you, as for many."

It was a moment before Hermione responded, almost sounding hesitant. "It's… An adjustment." She didn't say anything more, and Minerva waited for her to gather her thoughts. "I mean," she said briskly, picking at her nails absentmindedly. "It's wonderful to be back, and I enjoy teaching. It's just… Different." Her eyes flickered around the room for a moment. "It's been years, and yet everything looks the same. It's almost like I used a Time Turner and am simply taking a trip down memory lane, except the faces and names are different. The atmosphere is the same, and that's what's unsettling. Time at Hogwarts seems to move slower than elsewhere."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione allowed her shoulders to slump. "I wanted a fresh start, Minerva. I really did. But I just… I'm not sure Hogwarts is where I should be. I still feel like there's something missing, and it's frustrating that I don't know what that is."

"Hermione," Minerva said sternly, satisfied when the witch's eyes flickered to meet her own. "Have I ever told you that I used to work at the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement as well?"

A spark of curiosity jolted Hermione then. "No, I don't believe so."

Nodding, Minerva took off her glasses and cleaned them with her robe sleeve. "Why yes, I worked there for a few years." She paused to inspect her cleaning job. "I wasn't too happy there, Hermione. I was disappointed and surprised to be so melancholy. I had been planning on a career at the Ministry for quite some time, and the realization that it wasn't my heart's desire took time to sink in."

Hermione watched her Headmistress's lips twitch into a semblance of a smile.

"Before working for the Ministry, I had found someone to share my life with." Minerva's expression turned wistful for a moment. "He was a fine man; the type of person who could tell fabulous stories and still leave room for your own. For you two to share stories. Memories." Taking a more serious tone, the woman cleared her throat. "Do you know what happened to him?"

Hesitantly, Hermione shook her head. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"I left him." There was no bitterness in her voice, no resentment for a choice made in the past. "I was brought up in a household where magic was… unsavory." Taking a breath, the Headmistress tapped her china cup in thought. "I was raised having to hide my magic from my father. He found out we – my mother and I – were witches, yes, but it never settled well with him. A life with Dougal would have been more or less the same; more secrets. More denial of who I truly was."

Reaching for her cup, Hermione gingerly raised it to her lips. The tea was lukewarm now, but she sipped it as though it were scalding. "Dougal was your first love's name?"

With a half-smile, Minerva nodded. "Yes, Dougal McGregor." Pouring herself another cup of tea, she continued. "Leaving Dougal was a difficult decision, but had I stayed, I knew I would have been miserable. I saw my future self as my mother, bound and nearly broken." She poured Hermione a fresh cup as well. "At the Ministry, everything was supposed to be wonderful. I had graduated from Hogwarts with wonderful scores on my OWLS and NEWTS, I was both Prefect and Head Girl, and I had played on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Life was supposed to go smoothly from then on, but it seemed as though Fate had other plans."

Hermione was silent. She refused to allow her mind to drift to Ron – it stung too much to think of him. Everything hurt when she remembered him; her chest burned and her bones felt as though they would snap. It was far too easy to think of him at Hogwarts, and every corner she turned had her thinking he was waiting around the bend. Maybe it was a mistake coming here…

"Everything happens for a reason, Hermione."

She hadn't realized that she had lowered her head, but when Hermione looked at the woman across from her, she noticed not scorn but hope. Having the distinct feeling that there was more to Minerva's story, Hermione was poised to question when Minerva shook her head.

"Another time, dear."

Feeling a bit put out, Hermione's skin bristled. It was as though she were reading a great novel to only have it ripped from her hands right at the end.

Minerva looked amused as she changed the subject. "How are your classes going? I've heard wonderful things from both students and fellow professors."

Pursing her lips, Hermione replied with, "Yes, well, the students are proving excellent pupils. As for the staff, I'm sure that's not all they say about me." Just the other night, she had heard one of the newer, younger professors mouthing off to a comrade about how he deserved the Head of House position over Hermione, as he had been teaching at the castle longer. "Some of them seem downright fiendish at times, although the evidence of such is currently in the process of being collected."

A light-hearted laugh almost echoed off of the walls as Minerva clapped her hands. "You must mean Professor Hollingsworth. Yes, he's quite a proud one. I believe he attended Hogwarts a few years after yourself, if my memory is correct. He was always rather… involved in Gryffindor's affairs." Her eyes sparkled as she added, "I believe he's been a bit sore ever since he didn't make Head Boy."

Hermione would have normally chuckled at the thought of a professor still being bitter about something of the past, but she wasn't in the proper mood tonight. "I best be on my toes when he's around, shan't I? I wouldn't want him to transfigure me into a toad for good measure."

Adjusting her spectacles, Minerva deftly switched topics once more. "What of young Mister Scorpius Malfoy? I hear he's an exemplary student. Enough so to compete with Miss Lily Potter."

Smiling stiffly, Hermione placed her cup back on the desk. "Yes, Scorpius is quite like myself during my first year at Hogwarts. He's enthusiastic and a bit of a know-it-all. It's a wonder how I came to make any friends at all with that attitude." The woman tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, not looking at Minerva. "He seems popular among his class. Although I've heard that he doesn't have the flying prowess of his father." The last word came out as a bit of a squeak, and Hermione hastily hoisted her tea in the air and took a large, unladylike gulp.

Minerva raised an eyebrow but said nothing of Hermione's change in behavior. "It's odd that he was placed in Gryffindor, don't you think? But I suppose Sirius was in Gryffindor, despite his Pureblood status." Pondering the idea, she hummed to herself for a moment. "Unless Draco Malfoy isn't as strict as his family in that regard. Or the mother, I suppose, although I don't believe I've heard her name lately, and although I may have heard it once before, I don't believe it's a prominent memory of mine." Continuing, she mused, "Perhaps Neville knows."

Hermione gave a start at the mention of her old classmate. With everything that had been happening with Ronald and the Ministry, Hermione hadn't kept up with her old friends. "Neville Longbottom? Prof—Minerva," she corrected herself, "What makes you think that Neville would know?"

Crinkling her forehead in disbelief, Minerva said lightly, "My dear, Neville has kept in contact with most of the Order members, including Luna Lovegood. I'm certain that Luna would know, and by extension, Neville. The man has been holed up in Greenhouse Five for the longest time; something about a venomous tentacula that grew out of hand all of a sudden…" Trailing off, Minerva took a breath before changing the direction of the conversation again. "I've noticed your interest in the Malfoy boy. Tell me, has he said anything about his family?"

Hermione had been in the middle of taking a sip of tea when Minerva asked her question, and the witch almost choked. After a few coughs, she wiped a stray tear from her eye and breathlessly replied, "Slightly." Tea splashed onto the table as she practically threw her cup onto the desk. Control yourself, Hermione. With a huff, she waved her wand and the spill quickly disappeared.

"He's an inquisitive child and often asks about other students' families, and the questions are almost like rapid-fire back and forth between himself and his classmates. I can hardly keep up." Upon realizing that she had been speaking quickly, her face flushed. "I overheard him mention that his father had once been saved by Harry, and I was quite surprised that he admitted that so readily. He seemed rather proud of the fact, and I think that may be the reason he chose Gryffindor for his house. 'My family was all in Slytherin,'" she quoted the boy softly. "'But my father once told me that the Chosen One Harry Potter plucked him out of a fiery inferno.' He was quite excited about this, I think. It may have been simply from the attention, but I find it quite odd that he isn't as I expected him to be."

Chewing on her lip for a moment, she tried to remember the boy's exact wording before giving up after a moment. "Anyway, that's all the conversation that I allowed before beginning class. It's odd that he would mention Harry, is it not?"

Minerva looked thoughtful. "The Malfoys weren't the most loyal to Voldemort. At first, maybe, but towards the end of the war, they defected. This generation of the family must be breaking tradition."

"I'm not so sure that it's something the Malfoys have necessarily agreed upon," Hermione said after a moment. "I think there's a bit of a rivalry between Scorpius and the Potter children."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Nodding to herself, Minerva placed her empty cup down. "Were they in separate houses, I would expect a more hostile rivalry. As it is, they'll hopefully not lose many house points from this. I would hate to see Gryffindor lose the House Cup due to a civil disagreement."

A clock chimed in the far corner of the room, and Hermione stood from her seat. "I should be going. I've got tomorrow's lesson to plan for my fifth year students."

Minerva reached out and patted Hermione's hand. "Thank you for coming. I'll expect you next week at the same time."

Hermione nodded curtly and swept out of the room, shivering as she traversed the darkened halls. McGonagall's airy voice whispered in her mind. Everything happens for a reason, Hermione. Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A memory hit her full force; an image of a warm body lying beside her. Instead of thick, red hair coming to mind, all she could see was a messy shock of blonde acting as curtains to grey eyes that seemed endless.

Everything happens for a reason, Hermione.