Chapter 20

Hermione paused, "Profes…" She smiled glancing upwards, "Minerva, there is one thing…perhaps you could assist me with."

Minerva's left hand gripped the door knob, tighter. She had been so close, she nodded. "Of course." After all, Hermione hadn't pried. You can maintain your facade for a few more minutes. And undoubtedly, whatever it is, is probably the reason why she stopped last eve. "What is it, dear?"

"My parents…" Hermione took a stabilizing breath, "I…sent them to Australia with new memories and...is there any way to revert the memory charm and perhaps track them?"

"Revert the memory charm, yes; as for tracking them, no. However, I do have a few friends I can inquire to assist in finding your parents if you are willing to entrust their new names to me and subsequently to them."

"Wendell and Monica Wilkins." Hermione relayed without preamble, wanting to believe that it would be as simple as Minerva making a few inquires. But even she doubted that. While Hermione was sure she'd have connections throughout the wizarding world, she wasn't Dumbledore; but she could still hope.

"Wilkins." Minerva eyed her former student with appreciation, and her soul was exhausted; she found herself wanting to ease the sliver of hopelessness that glimmered in the depths of brown eyes. "Very well. Let me see what I can do to assist."

A wave of relief washed over Hermione, and she instantly leaned forward; arms wrapping around the elder witch startling her and forcing her to let go of the door to maintain her balance. "Thank you." She breathed, "So much."

With mild reservation, Minerva returned the hug. "I haven't done anything yet," her lilt broke across them, "and I may not be able to."

Hermione leaned back noting the distance taking up residence within green eyes, as they pulled apart. "Please tell me you didn't just consent to assist out of obligation, as I will not lie that I am elated at your comment; but I'd rather go to Australia myself versus add an additional burden upon you at the moment."

"I would not have offered if it was a burden." Minerva remarked, vying to maintain the façade.

Brown eyes swept over Minerva's tired countenance, and ever so slowly began shaking her head. "I don't believe you." She softly stated shocking them both.

Minerva found herself doing the unthinkable, relaying a harrowing truth to alleviate suddenly despondent features. "I am tired beyond measure," her voice barely construed a whisper, "as I have not slept for more than two or three hours at a time for longer than I can remember. And while I am in desperate need of a respite, I would not have offered if I was not able nor willing."

"But is it too much?" Hermione softly inquired.

"Traveling to Australia to assist at this point would be too much; as my reserves are quite taxed. However, making a few inquires to old acquaintances is far more pleasant a notion than dealing with the dozens of calls I received from the Ministry daily; even if half are from Kingsley."

"Minerva…"

The woman named merely laid her fingers upon Hermione's forearm; her expression causing Hermione's words to fall silent. They stared at the other for a long moment, before a soft Scottish lilt broke through the air. "Go and let me rest for a bit more," She nodded to the hallway, "I will see you tomorrow; and with luck I'll have news."

Hermione nodded, "Very well." She was about to step from Minerva's rooms but remained steadfast as she forced herself to utter her concern after last evening. "But, please Minerva -" How do you express your concern to one of the most esteemed witches of Britain that she may be drinking too much when you don't know one iota about her? "There are other ways to garner more sleep than through a bottle."

"For sleep yes," Minerva admitted, "to find a blissful moment of unconsciousness, no."

"What of a dreamless draught?"

Minerva couldn't help look of trepidation that crossed her face, "Perhaps at a later time."

Hermione's incredible intellect quickly processed the flash of anxiety regarding why Minerva would not wish to take a dreamless draught; and a pang of guilt pulsed in her stomach as she realized why. "I'll stay." She murmured as she found the strength to continue on, "And watch you while you sleep."

"I greatly appreciate your offer, but I shall be fine."

Images of last evening flashed across her mine and Hermione felt tears against the back of her eyes, "You weren't last night." She steadied her voice, "No different than I."

Minerva swallowed, hard. It had been a lifetime ago since someone had seen her as Hermione had; and there was a mixture of relief and a feeling of exposure derived from that knowledge. "We have both been left with scars from this war, Hermione. And while in the solitude of my chambers or the sanctity of my Manor; I am not the formidable Deputy or Headmistress of Hogwarts nor can I be."

"I'm not asking you to be." Hermione forced herself to acknowledge the truth regarding the Headmistress; she was not an icon, a statue but a person, a woman who was like her and the rest of the world despite her Herculean efforts at remaining stoic – but unlike the rest of the world, she appeared to be alone. "Merely to let me help you and vice versa."

"You will be far too busy assisting your friends and…"

"Don't," Hermione pushed ahead, interrupting her, "As you haven't a clue what my life will entail for the next day, week or month. I only know that I wish to find my parents, and you may be able to assist me with that; and in turn I may be able to help you with rebuilding Hogwarts and we both…" Hermione quelled her nerves as she quietly finished, "help each other in overcoming the last several months; because it's apparent we both need it."

Minerva should have said no, should have argued about the absurdity of the notion but she was too tired of fighting and being alone. "I'll prepare a room for you in the morning."

"I can…"

"In the morning Hermione." A finality lacing her Scottish brogue, "As I am too tired to verify the latticework's warding around any additional rooms and will do so this coming evening; then we can begin repairing the room tomorrow."

"I look forward to it Minerva; and I shall hope you have news for me then."

Minerva didn't reply save for a nod, her fingers already clutching the knob wanting to separate herself from the woman who seemed to wade through her defenses as though they were made of papier-mache, which in this case, papier-mache would probably have been stronger.

Xoxo

A/N: :)