A/N: Some of these I'm having to mash together to make sense of the pacing, so I may not have as many as I first thought but we're definitely not even close to being a 3rd of the way through yet, I don't think. As with everything where Spin isn't here to supervise me, we're just winging it. Hope that's fine.

You'll have to thank Lib McGranger for complaining until I simply could not cope with it any longer and am now forced to update :P I kid. But also not lol

-0-

They'd left her asleep and Harry flew back down the stairs while Ginny walked alongside him, to where Ron was waiting.

"What dya reckon?"

"I dunno," Harry sighed. "Obviously something. With McG or whatever?" He glanced at Ginny to confirm his suspicions. "It has to be, right? It wouldn't be anything -" he winced. "Like dangerous?"

"I think you're right. They're," Ginny glanced at Ron and then back at him. "Matched, ya know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look, at the very least Hermione worships the woman. So either," she shrugged. "They had a serious argument or falling out or," she shrugged again. "Or something has gone seriously wrong."

"Girls are so weird," Ron muttered, leaving them to go back to his game.

They stood watching him for a moment and when he didn't return, Harry turned back to her.

"Gin," Harry muttered. "What do I do?"

"I don't even know," she sighed.

"Do I go see McG? Would she see me?"

"If something, like involving You-Know-Who, had happened, I reckon we'd know about it by now, so it has to be between them, right?"

"I agree."

"So," Ginny winced. "I dunno if she'd see you, no. But you could try?"

"I think I need to," he muttered. "She was kind to me last time and whatever it is -" He glanced back up the stairs to where his best friend was sleeping. "It's serious."

"Yup," she laughed. "It is against school policy to turn students into things, so you've got that going for you. Good luck though, I might go up and sleep over."

"'Course," Harry grinned. "See you in the morning."

"Night."

He watched her up the stairs and waved a little self-consciously as she went inside the dorm room before he pulled on his jumper and set off into the Castle. It was quiet in the corridors, just the way he liked it. Sometimes when it was this quiet, on Sunday nights especially, he liked to pretend he was the only one in the castle. He'd trail his hands over the stones and breathe in the air that smelled like nothing else he could think of.

For now, though, he wandered his way down to where he knew most of the Professors' quarters were. Once he got to a corridor that looked familiar, he paused wishing he'd brought the Marauder's map with him. This was definitely the right area, he just wasn't sure where Professor McGonagall's were exactly and he definitely didn't want to be knocking on portraits of other teachers looking for her. He'd been in her office plenty of times, but when he'd been allowed into her living room the other day, he'd been taken through her office, rather than the front door.

He wandered up and down the corridor, ignoring some of the Portraits huffing at him until he came to a portrait that was looking at him sternly, but proudly somehow. The kilt and the sword and the tartan over his shoulder made Harry wonder whether he'd accidentally stumbled upon the right one. He cleared his throat and looked up at him.

"Lad?" He was greeted kindly but carefully.

"Are you Professor McGonagall's portrait?"

"I am."

"Can you," he frowned. "Can I see her?"

"She's not accepting visitors at this time, young'n," he said. "You are instructed to see Professor Dumbledore if it is an emergency."

"She won't see me, even if you tell her it's Harry Potter?"

"No. No visitors at this time."

He frowned and looked at his feet.

"But -"

"Harry?"

He blinked and looked up at Professor Dumbledore standing not too far away from him, looking pensive.

"Professor," he said quietly. "Um, Professor McGonagall, she -"

"I take it she is not to be disturbed, Michael?"

"Not tonight, Headmaster," the Portrait said quietly.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded. "Harry, I -" He sighed. "Will you walk with me?"

Harry recognised that face as one Dumbledore wore when he was about to tell Harry something that was going to change his life again. He nodded and fell into step beside the Headmaster as he walked them quietly through the Castle.

"Come in," he muttered, patting the stone Gargoyle at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

Harry sat at the desk and Dumbledore stopped and looked and then frowned.

"Will you join me down here," he said quietly.

"How bad is it, sir," Harry asked, formally, as he got situated.

"I -" He groaned as he sat in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face. "I have much to tell you and I am not sure how to begin."

"But Hermione, and Professor McGonagall." He remembered what she'd asked of him last time. "Minerva," he said haltingly. "Are they -"

"That will work itself out, my boy," he sighed. "Though it is something they must both decide to do. In the meantime, we will take care of our best friends as we are meant to, hmm?" Harry frowned and then realised that Dumbledore was talking about being Professor McGonagall's best friend. He smiled at the thought. It was nice to know that they were both the best friend of someone, especially those someones. He'd rather had the thought that Professor Dumbledore was kinda lonely most days.

"You think it will be okay?" he asked quietly.

"I think that when she feels a little better tomorrow, I will speak to Miss Granger about what has happened. I am not sure if you're privy to the details, Harry, so I won't share them but it has far-reaching consequences that go beyond what has resulted in the issues we face tonight."

"That's cryptic," he muttered.

Dumbledore laughed, though it did not feel so happy.

"It always is, my boy. Now. Your friend and mine have made me realise that it is high time that I share with you the information that you will need for us to start making a dent in this war. I am going to start that tonight. And I don't doubt it will be too much for one night, so I want you to be patient with me. And with yourself. It is late and we are both tired but as Minerva would say, there's no time like the present." Harry stared at him. "Alright?"

"Um, sure," Harry nodded. "Fine."

"Good. Some of this I have in mind that Miss Granger has already worked out and perhaps even told you about, but I will cover it anyway and we will go from there."

"I understand, sir," Harry sighed. "Even though Hermione has told me some, I guess we need to start at the beginning."

Dumbledore nodded and sat for another moment until he nodded and sat forward too. He started talking and he didn't really stop, telling Harry some of the things that Hermione had already figured out and some that she'd alluded to but not fully formed into theories. About the prophecy he had dreamed last year, about the meanings of the things they'd already worked out and the Death Eaters and Tom Riddle as a child, as a teen and now, as a man. He talked until Harry could barely keep his eyes open which meant that he couldn't ask questions like he knew Hermione would want him to either.

"I think it is time for you to go back to your dormitory," Dumbledore said gently. "We will talk more, though, when we can."

He sat up and looked at his hands for a long time before looking up at Dumbledore.

"I'm going to have to kill him, sir," Harry whispered. "Aren't I?"

"Yes," Albus nodded sadly. "But we will help you, Harry. You are not alone."

"Sir?" Harry blinked. "What about Hermione? You didn't see her tonight, she -"

"I saw her before they came back," he muttered. "I will talk to Professor McGonagall in the morning and I will catch up with Miss Granger later. It will all work out, in time. We just must be patient."

Harry stumbled back to his dormitory and fell into bed, his eyes heavy but his mind spinning with cacophonous thoughts that would not still. He lay looking at the curtains around the four-poster for such a long time before he sat up and pulled his quill and a piece of parchment close, doing something he'd promised himself (and Hermione) that he'd do long ago.

While Ron's and Neville's snores broke the silence of the room, Harry poured out every painful thought he had into a letter to Sirius. He spent a good portion of it wiping his face, trying to make sure none of his tears ran the ink on the page and when he was done, the light was just beginning to illuminate the sky through his curtains. With a heavy sigh, he folded the parchment and tucked it in his robes for later. He'd take Hermione for a walk to the Owlery to take her mind off things, but also so she could see that he was actually writing to Sirius. Perhaps they could talk about whatever it was that had fractured this new thing with McGonagall and they could all go back to normal.

If there was one thing that he was sure of, it was that if he was going to get through this, he needed Hermione at her best and her best was definitely even better when she was hanging out with Professor McGonagall.

-0-

Ginny was snoring beside her when she woke and for a quarter of a second, Hermione wondered why Ginny was there before it all came crashing back down on her. The pit in her gut opened up again and it rolled uncomfortably as she remembered the look Minerva had given her at the party. And worse, the look she'd given Hermione the last time she had looked at her.

She rolled quietly out of bed and went for a shower, waking Ginny by accident when she came back and accidentally dropped her hairbrush next to the bed.

"Hey," Ginny said gruffly. "Okay?"

"No," Hermione whispered. "Not in the slightest."

"'Kay," Ginny nodded. "Lemme get dressed then I'll come with you, wherever you're going."

"I dunno where -"

"Doesn't matter," Ginny said. They hugged tightly for a moment before Ginny stepped away. "I'm coming anyway."

Hermione blinked rapidly as Ginny raced down to her room. For all Ron's faults, and Molly's - well, whatever that had been - the Weasleys were good and kind people. She just really hoped they would all feel the same when she told them what had happened.

She met Ginny on the stairs and both were surprised to see Harry sitting on the sofas waiting for them.

"Hey," he said cautiously. "You okay?"

"No," Hermione muttered.

"Um, oh," Harry nodded. "Okay. I," he glanced at Ginny. "Need to take this letter to Sirius, to Hedwig. Do you wanna walk?"

"Yeah," she muttered. "I need to tell you guys too, I guess."

"You don't need to, Hermione," Ginny said gently. "I mean, we've guessed a bit of it."

"You won't have guessed this," she whispered, setting off with them outside.

She told them about how she'd spent months trying to persuade her parents to leave. How she'd begged them to move abroad, somewhere away from England for the last few years of her schooling. She told them about how her parents had scoffed at her and told her it was preposterous and that they couldn't just up and leave. They had lives, and jobs and most of all, they would not be leaving Hermione to fend for herself. They would all go or they would none of them go.

And then, in a broken tone, she told them what she had done and she'd cried at the prolonged silence afterwards.

"Hermione," Ginny whispered. "I mean, I don't even know what to say."

"I had to protect them," she muttered. "Nobody remembered that I had Muggle parents. Nobody cared. I was Hermione the mudblood and my parents were expendable."

"That's not -"

"Who would have remembered, Harry," Hermione pleaded. "Because the one person that should have, didn't. And Minerva didn't either. And I didn't want her to feel bad over it, but I -" She squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin. "Even if Minerva McGonagall had marched into my parents' home and told them they were being idiots and that they needed to leave, they would not have gone. It's right that she's disappointed and angry. I am as well. But there was no other alternative. I know my parents. I," her voice broke. "Knew what they were like. This way I know they will always be safe and happy. And though I may never be happy again, I know that they will be safe."

She'd said it all in one breath and by the time she trailed off, she was breathing heavily and trying not to burst back into tears.

"'Mione," Harry whispered, stopping and turning to her. "I don't understand any of what you're feeling, but," he glanced back at Ginny and Hermione noticed her nodding. "I'm here."

"I know," Hermione sobbed, wrapping her arms around him. "I know you are. Thank you. Both of you."

"It's alright. Let's go see Hedwig and you can see that I'm finally sending that note to Sirius and talking about all that mushy stuff," he nudged her gently. "And that way you can ask her to go and get that catalogue."

"Oh bollocks," Hermione muttered. "I need to turn in our knives." They gave her a look and she explained, pulling on the roots of her hair as they walked in. "They're not cursed or anything. I know that for sure. I just don't really understand it."

"Pfft," Ginny muttered, her ears going red. "I know they're not cursed either."

Hermione managed a rather wet laugh and wrapped her arm around the younger woman.

"Well, either way. I need to turn them in today, as I said. They're going to poke around them for a while and then I reckon we'll get them back. Even as angry and disappointed in me as she is, Minerva is honourable. I paid for them, they still belong to me."

"It'll work out, 'Mione," Harry smiled as Hedwig perched on his shoulder now they were in the Owlery and nibbled on his ear. "Hey, girl."

They spent some time giving some love to Hedwig before Harry gave her his letter and asked her if she'd stop by the post office and get any mail for any of them. She gave him an affectionate peck on the head and set off into the sunrise.

"She's beautiful."

"Yeah, she is," Harry grinned. "Let's get some early breakfast and then we can make sure we're ready for the day."

"And avoid her," Hermione muttered, seeing straight through the plan.

"Well, yeah unless you wanna wait and -"

"No," Hermione sighed. "Let's go."

-0-

Minerva heard the Floo go and rolled over with a grumble. She could almost picture his steps into the room. Mostly because they were the same steps he took every time. He'd drop the soot and walk over to her desk, rustling through the mail that she intercepted from his desk and then, in a change from the norm, he would stop and stare at the letter on the top of the pile. He would, she knew because it was blindingly obvious as to what it was.

"Absolutely not," his voice came from the doorway to her bedroom.

"Do you mind," she huffed into her pillow. "This is my -"

"Absolutely not, Min," he said again. "I refuse. I decline."

"Albus -"

"No, Min. You will not be resigning."

"But -"

"Minerva? It is not your fault."

"But I have failed her," she hissed. "Abominably. I failed to protect her, to the point where she did serious harm to her parents, Albus. Her PARENTS."

He stared at her and sat beside her on the bed, ignoring her huff at the cheek.

"Min?" he said gently, brushing her hair off her face. "It's not your fault."

"Of course it is."

"Why is this your fault?"

"I should have remembered. I should have -"

"You take on so much for me, dear heart. Don't take this on too."

"Albus."

"I won't let you go, Minerva. Not ever. You are," he paused and she looked up at him. "The love I have for you, Tabby, outshines all love but one. And that was turned into something ugly. What you and I have is pure; feels like the last pure thing I have left and I refuse to let it go. I know I am not often for platitudes and I know you are not often one to receive them, but I am serious when I say I cannot do this without you. Any of it. Albus Dumbledore is only a hapless man with some skills as a wizard without you."

"Oh for the love of -"

She sat up and hugged him, sighing into his lemon-scented robes for a long time before she sat back and laughed as she wiped away the tears.

"I'm angry with her. And I'm angry with myself. And with you. And with," she grimaced. "Fucking Voldemort."

"I know," he muttered. "And you are allowed to be. I will take over from you for a while until you feel a bit more like yourself. Alright? I know how much she means to you, underneath it all and as I am the one that allowed her to join the Order, I will take this on as well. I think it would be beneficial for Harry to join in as well."

"What has happened to you?" she asked, looking up at him. "You sound," she frowned. "Clear, suddenly. You were so conflicted the other night."

"I cannot explain it," he muttered. "After the party and everything that happened, I just -"

Minerva waited as he stared off into space.

"I spoke to Harry last night. He came to see you, but Michael was quite insistent."

"Good," she muttered. "I would not have been very kind to anyone last night."

"Do I need to buy you another bottle of whisky," he chuckled.

"Boil your head," she muttered, managing a small smile at his cheek. "Also, yes. But go back to Harry."

"I told him most of what I told you."

"Oh, Albus," she groaned. "He is not capable of dealing with all of that?"

"I believe he is, or he will be. With Miss Granger's help. And I will need them both in the coming months if we are to make a dent in finding these Horcruxes, Min. I cannot entrust the information to anyone else. I am already scared of what you know."

"You know I would never break your confidence!" Minerva protested. "On pain of death."

"I know," he soothed her. "But that does not mean they would not try," he paled and she took his hand. "On pain of death."

They sat quietly, thoughts running through their heads, no doubt, at lightning speed. She felt so discombobulated.

"I was not kind to her," Minerva muttered. "But I do not feel the need to apologise."

"She is young," Albus counselled. "She thought she was doing the right thing."

"Albus!"

"I can only tell you what I would want someone to tell me," he sighed. "It is my error to bear, Minerva. Not yours. I know she is Harry's friend. I know she is a target and she is so capable that I simply forgot these children don't spring up from the ground fully formed at 11."

Minerva groaned and lay back down, the embarrassment of Albus in her bedroom, long forgotten.

"What do I do, Al?" she whispered. "How do I look past this?"

"You may not be able to," he said softly. "You may be angry for a long time, but -" She went to interrupt, and he stopped her. "It is possible that you may have to decide whether you are angry enough to stop interacting with her completely?" Minerva's gut twisted uncomfortably. "I will say," he continued. "That you are positively radiant on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays." She looked up at him. "The days after you meet with her. There was a time when Minerva McGonagall did not do Mondays, and yet," he smiled. "I have heard you humming, no less, more than once."

"I do not hum, Albus," she grumbled.

"You do when you have been with her."

"Why is she so -"

"She reminds me very much of another young woman who befriended her Transfiguration teacher. And whose friendship, I hope, will last that of a lifetime?"

"Al," she groaned. "Do you ever get sick of being in charge?"

"Every day, Tabby. That is why I have you."

She snorted and he kissed her forehead and stood.

"It is nearly seven. I'm going down to breakfast. I don't imagine it will be too difficult if you want to eat up here. But whatever you decide will be the right choice."

"I have them for the second period, so -"

"If she happens to be absent from class, I would not make too much of it," he said gently. "Though it is your class, so you should do as you wish."

"Thank you, Albus," she said pointedly.

"I am, as ever, Minerva McGonagall, yours faithfully."

"Go away before I put you to work on those letters waiting for a reply."

"Oh, is that the time," he said, pulling out his pocket watch. "How terribly remiss of me, I must dash."

Despite her feelings being so up in the air, she laughed as he tucked his pocket watch away and winked at her before leaving her bedroom and then her rooms. She lay back for just a minute longer, remembering the pain in Hermione's eyes the night before. She had been so angry that she didn't have the capacity to explain, but she was just as disappointed with herself as she was with Hermione. Of course, the young woman would not have known what to do. Of course, she would have taken on the impossible. Her capacity for love was so enormous that the result did not surprise Minerva as much as she thought it might. The problem was that Minerva forgot, despite Hermione making it clear at every turn, that she was born of Muggles. Defenceless and alone with one foot in a world that they could not begin to understand, was it any wonder that Hermione felt like she needed to take that drastic action?

And Minerva, who had once been in such a similar situation, should have known. She should have. Hermione was so dear to her and to forget to accommodate her parents completely was a horrendous misstep.

But now, everything was raw and it was not the day to work through it. Minerva showered and got ready for her day, groaning at the multiplying piles of mail she had neglected to go through. Spending that time with Hermione, she had looked forward to it more than her work and had neglected a lot of it in favour of the quiet moments with the young woman. She would catch up while Albus took over. Perhaps this was for the best. Albus could take care of their training while she took care of the school.

She sighed and plaited her hair down her back while it dried, reading over a few of the letters before binning them and pulling more towards her. She ordered some tea and toast, something she did not regularly partake in except on mornings she was hung over or upset. It sent her right back to her childhood, sitting on her grandfather's knee and eating a piece of his toast and drinking a tiny cup of tea with him just before bed. She smiled at the memory and then pushed it all to one side to concentrate on the day.

The rest could come tomorrow.