Retreating to the Room of Requirement, Hermione debated about sending a letter to one of her girls. She missed them fiercely.
"Dot!" Hermione called.
A House Elf popped into the room. "Yes, Mistress?"
"I would like all the information on my girls please."
Nodding her head Dot popped out of the room.
Hermione started pacing as she waited for her elf to return. As she paced, her magic arched out and cracked against the wall.
"Mistress!" Dot squeaked. She was terrified of her Mistress' magic, especially when it acted on its own.
Hermione forced her magic to calm down. "Thank you, Dot." She walked over to the ornate desk that the Room supplied. Sitting down, she smiled at her elf. "I'm sure you have something better to do than wait on me."
Smiling brightly, Dot vanished from the room.
Picking up the first newspaper, the laughing face of Bellatrix in chains met her – now – unsteady gaze. Hermione's eyes shuttered closed. Azkaban would have done her little girl no favors, it would have made her condition worse. Shoving that one aside and picking up another Prophet showed that Andromeda worked in an apothecary in a small wizarding village in Ireland. Nymphadora had become an Auror and, if the Prophet could be believed, a very good one. Narcissa had become cold, as the Prophets got closer to the current date, she smiled less and less and had been labeled an 'Ice Queen' more than once. No wonder Draco was the aristocratic prat he was.
Glancing at her watch, Hermione jumped to her feet and hurried out of the Room of Requirement. Dinner was going to start in five minutes and she had an appearance to maintain.
Nearing the Great Hall, a boy's voice called out. "In a hurry, mudblood?!"
Stopping in her tracks, Hermione slowly turned to face Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. "What did you call me?" Her voice had tuned to ice and was deadly quiet.
"Mudblood." Draco smirked, not realizing the danger he was in.
Whipping her wand, Hermione strode across the corridor. "You foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach!" She jabbed her wand into his neck, her magic rolling under her skin. She couldn't crucio him; not here, and not when he didn't realize what he had done.
Draco whimpered, he was terrified she was going to kill him.
Dropping her wand, Hermione turned her back to him; only to spin back around, snapping out her fist, and breaking Draco's nose. Feeling it crunch under her fist, Hermione quickly pulled back.
"Miss Granger!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Ten points from Gryffindor and you will follow me to my office. Now! Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle please escort Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing."
Scowling Hermione followed Minerva to her office. She felt no need to fill the silence and could feel that the older witch wanted to say something.
Once they entered her office, Minerva sat behind her desk, a concerned frown on her face.
Lounging in the chair on the other side of the desk, Hermione waited for her Head of House to begin speaking.
"Miss Granger, I am disappointed in you." Minerva pushed her spectacles back into place (a nervous tick of hers). "You know we do not tolerate violence here, so why would you punch Mr. Malfoy?"
"He called me a mudblood." Hermione shrugged. She wasn't worried, Minerva would never give her detention for such a small infraction. "And I'm tired of being called that."
Minerva sighed. "Miss Granger, you can't go around punching people."
"Oh, and I suppose I should just go casting spells then." The Dark Queen sneered, her magic rippling into her skin, begging to rip Minerva apart and drain her blood. "You know, you really should get all the facts before you go around casting spell. You never know the consequences of your actions. However, you always know the consequences of a good punch."
Minerva's mouth dropped. Hermione had never spoken to her in a disrespectful tone before.
Pushing on the arms of her chair, Hermione stood up and stormed out of McGonagall's office. Leaving the door open as she did so.
Minerva frowned as she got up and closed the door. She hadn't expected her best (favorite) student to treat her like that, she had expected to have a calm conversation with Hermione. The Gryffindor Head of House certainly hadn't expected Hermione to storm out.
A memory rose to the forefront of Minerva's mind: An older Hermione, wearing Ravenclaw Blue and Bronze, laughed at something Tom Riddle said. Striding over to one of her bookcases, Minerva pulled out one of the older year books and started flipping through it. She froze when she found a picture of one Hermione Granger. This picture was dated to the girl's Sixth Year, she smiled at Minerva with an empty, vapid grin.
Stumbling back, Minerva sank onto her desk. It can't be. No. She can't be the Dark Queen, I refuse to believe it. She slammed the book shut and shoved it back onto the bookcase. Minerva's mind refused to accept that her favorite student could be so dark. Refused to believe her little cub would harm someone and want to bring down the wizarding world.
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A/N: What Minerva just did is repudiation, because she has an idea of what Hermione is and her minds refuses to allow any deviation from it and rejects anything that does not fit.