Chapter 19

Breakfast had started out as an awkward affair. Neither woman wanting to discuss their own personal situation, however, curiosity pulsed to know the others. Yet, neither pried knowing full well it would lead to a far too personal path.

Instead, they each focused on their own breakfast.

Hermione savoring her coffee with a cube of sugar, Minerva taking a sip of pure petrol.

"I did not realize you drank coffee." Minerva remarked as Hermione raised the black liquid to her lips.

"Something I started this past year." Hermione took a sip, "However, I limit myself to two cups."

"A wise course of action." Minerva picked up the offending crescent, knowing that she needed to eat something, despite what her stomach felt like having. The flaky substance breaking apart in her mouth as a metallic taste resonated across her palate. And she swallowed, jaw discreetly clenching to keep the bile in her stomach…there versus the alternative.

Hermione slid her food to the other side of her mouth, "For some reason, I always thought you drank tea with breakfast."

"I do." Minerva lifted her eyes, "In the Great Hall, as I have my coffee and a nip of food well before."

"Then this morning, was abnormal and you are usually up before the sun?"

"Quite." Minerva forced another bite down her throat, before finishing. "As I traditionally wake between four-thirty and five."

"Every morning?" To say Hermione was moderately surprised, was understated. She had always believed Minerva was an early riser, but four? "I've seen you…" She was about to stop but trudged onward, "When at Hogwarts up well after eleven. When do you sleep?"

"I should ask what you had been doing out after curfew," Minerva remarked, "I've never needed much sleep."

"That isn't even five hours."

"Of that I am aware." Minerva took a sip, "And how much sleep do you need? As I too have seen you up far later than the other students and at breakfast much earlier."

A look of chagrin passed over Hermione's face, "Perhaps six hours."

"And of late?" Minerva gently asked.

"Less." Came the whispered response. "Much less." Brown eyes fell to her plate, unable to meet surprisingly caring green ones.

Minerva's hand gripped the napkin in her lap as she forced herself to continue onward, "It will get easier, Hermione."

Teary eyes lifted upwards, "I can hope." She forced a smile onto her lips, "As do I that whatever has obviously plagued your heart that it too will lighten."

"Given enough time, I assure you; it will too." Minerva met brown eyes; their gazes locking for several minutes. An unspoken moment passing between them that they would let their own curiosity go and the matters lay for the sake of the other.

The remainder of their meal was filled with small talk regarding the latest journal of transfiguration. Neither one wanting to delve into the last year, each one content upon maintaining the subterfuge of 'normalcy'. They had talked liked this numerous times before in Minerva's office over the years, however, the talk much like the young woman – had changed. She was no longer the young eager student who was seeking understanding; instead she was a striking woman who challenged published theory with her astounding intellect.

It was a refreshing and remarkable transformation.

One that rarely occurred so quickly, if at all.

However, it served as a reminder that the woman before her was - anything but typical.

Oxox

A/N: :)