-0-

They ate and left the Hall before Professor Dumbledore even showed up and spent the rest of the morning, before classes, talking about anything except what had happened. Well, Hermione listened to the three of them chat while she sat closest to the fire, watching the flames dance.

"I need to turn in our knives," she said quietly, interrupting Ron as he was telling them the story about his save at Quidditch training for the second time. They stared at her and she sighed when they remained silent. "She's already got mine but I said I'd give her the others this morning and I need to do that."

"I can do it," Harry offered.

"No, it's okay. I'm going to leave them on her desk in her room and I might," she shrugged. "I'm still ordering us holsters and stuff though. She'll give them back."

"Remind me to tell you about last night," Harry muttered as Ron got up to get his from his trunk. "But we'll have to do it in the Room of Requirement. It's," he winced. "A lot."

"What happened?" Ginny asked.

"I went to see McGonagall -"

"What! Harry!"

"No, it's okay. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, but her Portrait, Michael, is it?" Hermione nodded. "Wouldn't let me in. Professor Dumbledore was there, I don't know why."

"He was at the party. I told him. He tried to stop her before we left."

"Well, he was there and when Michael, I guess, told him she wasn't to be disturbed, he took me back to his office and," Ron came back down the stairs and stopped to talk to Lee. "Told me." He looked between them both. "Everything."

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"Everything?"

"I think so. Way too much for me to understand. But, he just told me."

"Why?" Hermione blanched as she realised what she said. "I don't mean that, in the way that it sounded," she apologised. "I just mean, well, he's not exactly known for being forthcoming, is he? Why now?"

"I dunno," Harry said carefully as Ron rejoined them, handing over his knife. "But he just started talking and didn't stop."

"Who?" Ron asked.

Hermione watched Harry debate what they were talking about and realised that despite him being Harry's best mate, Harry wasn't totally sure he could trust him.

"We're going to talk about it later," Hermione said, making the decision for him. "But we're going to have to swear an oath or something," she winced. "A proper one. This is serious stuff, Ron. I mean, serious."

"I'm for it," Ron said, looking serious for the first time since she'd known him. "I know I can be," he winced. "Well, ya know. But I'm with you, yeah?"

Harry nodded and shook his hand.

"We're gonna need you, mate. So yeah. It's okay if you're not up for it but you need to decide now before we get into it."

"I'm in," he grinned, offering Hermione his knife. "I'm one of us, right?"

She grinned and hugged him, taking his knife and wrapping it in a scarf she'd taken from her mother's things before she left. Harry went and got his and Ginny yanked hers from her boot.

"I did say I was gonna," she chuckled when they stared. "You sure you'll be alright taking them?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "It'll be okay." Harry rejoined them and she wrapped his up with the rest, with Minerva's already resting at the back of the bunch. "I'm not going to Transfiguration today. I've already decided. I'll go to the Library or something."

"What if she asks?" Harry winced.

"She won't."

"But -"

"Just tell her I'm not feeling well. It will be a stupid answer to a stupid question."

Harry squeezed her hand as the first bell rang.

"Come on, Herbology first, at least. That'll be fun."

"Did you know Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick?" she asked, suddenly, making them all stare. "True. They have 5 kids."

Ron's mouth dropped open and they all stared before they all shook their heads and stood.

"Nope," Harry said. "Not interested in the private lives of Professors at all."

Hermione laughed, feeling a little lighter.

"Bit like when we found out about Hagrid and Madame Maxine?"

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed, pushing her as she got up. "Stop."

"I wonder if Filch -"

She was drowned out with yells and a cushion being thrown at her as they all grabbed their bags and walked from the Common Room. It was undoubtedly going to be a long day.

-0-

She ducked out of Herbology early and wandered back up to the Castle, taking the long way up to Minerva's rooms and standing in front of Michael's frame before he appeared.

"Mistress is not receiving visitors today."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I need to put something on her desk."

"That would be impossible as she is inside."

"Oh," Hermione swallowed. "Well then never mind."

"Mistress says -"

"No, I don't need to speak to her," Hermione shook her head. "Never mind. Thank you."

She turned and walked away and was just rounding the corner when she heard Minerva's voice.

"Miss Granger!"

She did pause for half a second but she refused to turn. She wanted to. There was almost a desperation for her just to turn around and wait for her, but she didn't. She couldn't. She remembered the look Minerva gave her at the party and she knew she couldn't. She did not ever want to see that look on the woman's face again. She would steadfastly refuse to ever look at her again, just to avoid it, so she forced herself to take one step away from the woman that had come to mean more to her than anyone else.

Her name, again, rang down the corridor and then her first name when she ignored it a second time. She could hear the staccato clip of Minerva's boots and she looked around for a way to avoid the confrontation completely. She had just about given up when she noticed one of the entrances to the kitchens that were marked on the map and she slipped behind the suit of armour and into the tunnel. She held her breath as Minerva rounded the corner and stared down it. She was undoubtedly confused - there should have been no way that Hermione could have escaped without running. Hermione watched Minerva while she stared, no doubt working that out for herself as well.

She watched as Minerva rubbed her forehead like she always did when she was frustrated over something and then closed her eyes and let her head fall back. She hadn't even done her hair properly yet, and Hermione felt the tears coming again as she watched Mineva shake her head and turn back to her rooms. Just as she took a step, she stopped and waited and Hermione held her breath again. She'd not made a peep so she wasn't sure what Minerva was hearing, or what had stopped her, but Minerva frowned and looked back down the corridor. To Hermione's horror, Minerva suddenly turned and looked right at the suit of armour she was hiding behind. They stared at each other, Minerva completely unaware before she shook her head again and left back down to her rooms, her boots clicking on the flagstones quieter and quieter until there was nothing but silence.

As soon as she was sure Minerva wasn't coming back, Hermione sat down and rested against the side of the tunnel. Her hands were shaking with the strength it had taken to stop herself from just appearing in front of Minerva and begging her forgiveness. It physically hurt to stop herself and she desperately wished she could just erase every moment from the last twelve hours of her life and go back to lying. It made her stomach churn to even think about it and she wished more than anything, even more than that, she wished she'd just told someone. That she hadn't thought she could solve all the issues herself.

Part of it was that she knew, she knew her parents wouldn't have listened. She had known it from the first time they'd refused to listen to her. She'd made charts and written a whole speech and they'd waved her off like they often did. She was their child, of course, they weren't going to listen to her. It was a hopeless situation and it just made her cry even more. She curled up as small as she could and hugged the scarf to her chest. She breathed in her mother's scent and cried against it until she fell asleep in the dark.

-0-

Minerva was frustrated with herself, and with Hermione. She'd seen the young woman slip around the corner and just as Minerva thought there was no escape for her, Hermione had disappeared completely. It had grated on her but just as she'd turned to go back to pick up her things and go to class, something had made her stop. She could almost feel Hermione close. Like a whisper of something at the back of her mind. She'd stared into nothing trying to figure it out, but as the bell was due to ring any moment, she could not spare more than a few moments.

It was so very frustrating.

Albus was right in that she would have to decide whether she was angry enough to forgo any further connection with Hermione, but even as he had said it, she had known that was preposterous. He had probably known too. Hermione had found a way to burrow beneath her armour. The hard exterior she projected that she knew was sometimes caustic to those around her, Hermione had strolled through it like it was nothing. And it had made her realise how stand-offish she had been for so long. Even her friends had been kept at arm's length; Poppy she hadn't seen outside of working hours for so long. She resolved to do something about it, even though the real pain was in not knowing how to deal with this situation any more than she knew how to process the horrific guilt that she had from leaving Hermione to deal with it all on her own.

She leaned on her desk around the emptiness in her stomach that had nothing to do with her breakfast. She looked up sharply as the bell went, disturbing her thoughts and she pulled together her things and went to class.

They weren't too rowdy but as they sat down, some of them made fools of themselves, as usual, but she noticed Harry doing his best to avoid her eyes while the seat beside her remained empty. She looked at the door sharply and then back down at the desk, opening her mouth to ask him before realising it was stupid to even do so. Harry finally met her eyes and she stared at him for a short while before nodding sadly and beginning her lesson.

It was going to be a long day.

-0-

It had been a long day. Between the back-to-back lessons, finishing with the 7th-years, she walked into her rooms and dropped the papers on her side table for marking later. Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, she took down her hair and went into her room to change before she sat down to deal with it all. She was partway through unbuttoning her robes when she realised that all was not right. She poked her head out of the door and looked at her desk, seeing a scarf sitting atop her papers.

She continued unbuttoning as she looked at it, using her letter opener to peek behind one corner.

She stopped what she was doing and really looked, her eyes opening wider as she realised what had happened.

"MICHAEL!"

"Mistress," he said carefully, appearing in the portrait above the door.

"Was Hermione here?"

"She had the password, Mistress," he said awkwardly. "And assured me that I could watch what she did so I could assure you that all she did was put that on your desk and leave."

"That's it?" Minerva asked, her tone conveying her frustration.

"She stopped," he said. "By the chair and touched the blanket, but otherwise, yes, Mistress. She left quickly and quietly."

Minerva rubbed her forehead again and groaned to herself. She nodded and waved him away.

"Thank you, Michael."

"As always, Mistress."

He disappeared back to his main portrait and she stood looking at her chair and the throw on the back of it. It was her favourite and she'd tucked the two of them underneath it on more than one occasion. She stepped forward and touched it reverently before she growled in frustration and went back to her desk.

She looked over the four knives within the scarf, running her thumb over the edging of it while she looked. Something told her not to touch them and she suddenly realised that she had taken Hermione's and never given it back. She looked around for her bag and retrieved the black blade and placed it reverently beside the others. Even as she looked, she knew immediately which one Hermione had intended to give to her.

It was beautiful. The blade was a little ostentatious for her tastes and curved like a scimitar but it was truly magnificent. Despite herself, she loved the look of it. The dark wood matched her beautifully, and the extraordinary inlaid vine work in gold from the hilt into the base of the blade was so wonderfully detailed that she couldn't help but reach out and run her fingers over it. The blade proper almost looked like it had scales where it was textured but it was clearly part of the design to help give depth to the darkened, silvered look.

Hermione was right, they didn't feel dark, just a little needy. For now, though, she needed a distraction, so she wrapped them back up in the lovely scarf that Hermione had left and ignored them for the time being. She moved over to the Floo and dropped the powder into the flames.

"Hogwarts Hospital Wing."

She appeared out of the flames, apologising to Poppy with a look as she dropped onto her sofa.

"Good afternoon," Poppy smiled.

"Is it?" she asked quietly.

"I believe so," Poppy chuckled, getting up and sitting beside her. "What's up chuck? You only ever come and say hello when there's something the matter."

"I am clearly a poor excuse for a friend, then."

"Our friendship is one that is built on longevity, Minerva," Poppy soothed. "Albus pushes you, I do not." Minerva snorted and rested a little on her oldest friend. "Has this, by any chance, got anything to do with Miss Granger?"

"Why would you say that?" she asked, not even believing her own words, let alone expecting Poppy to.

"So yes." Minerva leaned forward and placed her head in her hands. Poppy's hand was comforting on her back. "Minerva? Speak, love."

It poured out of her like water, all the frustrations and the feelings that didn't make any sense and the anger and the upset and the confusion. Poppy, as ever, sat and listened until Minerva's voice went hoarse. She trailed off and sat looking at Poppy's rug until she heard Poppy sigh.

"Make it make sense for me," Minerva whispered. "I don't understand."

"She is so like you, and yet not," Poppy chuckled. "You have the added advantage," she ran her hand over Minerva's head. "And disadvantage, of being older and wiser than her. She does not carry the baggage you do, she has not lived through the hurt that you have. She can afford to be slightly more cavalier with her feelings and just as you get much more touchy-feely after a week with me forcing you to hug me once a day, I imagine that if she is a tactile sort of person, then it stands to reason that you would respond to that. Ordinarily, you allow Albus to hold you and I may if you're feeling unhappy. It's not a bad thing, Min. It's just how you were put together."

"My mother never held us, as your mother did," Minerva whispered. "I am not accustomed to it, as you say, outside of you and Albus but when she wrapped her arms around me, it felt different. Like I was safe. It's ridiculous really, she's a child. Barely older than and yet -"

"I imagine she felt something similar," Poppy said quietly. "And that is alright. Sometimes people just fit, no matter the age."

Minerva made a noise but didn't protest.

"What am I supposed to do about her parents?"

"Do you want me to placate you or would you like a real answer?"

"Poppy," Minerva muttered. "When have I ever wanted platitude over fact?"

Poppy sighed and got up to pour them a drink, each.

"Well then," she waited a beat but Minerva glared at her instead. "There is nothing you can do about Miss Granger's parents. That is it. I understand Albus suggested you have a choice but what is the other option? Go and find them, reverse the charm - if you can - and then, somehow, force them into hiding anyway? As your friend, I would counsel you that that is folly and as a healer, Minerva, I would flatly forbid it. We have no idea whether Miss Granger's spell would be reversible and if she is as skilled as you say, I would posit that, not only would it be irreversible, but it might very well kill them if we try." Minerva groaned and finished her drink, putting the glass on the floor as Poppy continued. "More to the point, Min. Underneath all of this, I am sensing it is not actually her you are angry with."

"Oh I am angry with her," Minerva whispered. "For not asking for help? She is so intelligent, so intelligent. It should have been her first port of call. But," she conceded. "I am not angry with her to the extent that I am angry with me. I should have remembered. I should have been taking care of them."

"That is a peculiar turn of phrase," Poppy mused.

"But I feel it is the right one," she groaned with her face in her hands. "After last year; when she stood up for me against that bloody woman?" Poppy shrugged and nodded. "We formed a friendship, of sorts. Obviously, that was confined to the classroom and the odd discussion outside of it, but I respected her courage for me. I wanted her to know it was appreciated. And then this year, I -" She stopped speaking for fear of telling Poppy something that would put her in danger. "Well, she is Harry Potter's best friend. And as much as Albus has tried to protect them from the War, they know. They have all been involved far more than I, at times. And," she almost screamed in frustration. "I should have realised."

She got up and paced for a while before she turned and looked at Poppy helplessly.

"Will has not been home for two weeks," Poppy muttered. "He is so busy on the wards that he barely has time to sleep some days. I know that some of the students have already lost family. And some of the Slytherins look positively ill every single day." Minerva sneered but didn't say anything. "War is hell, Minerva. We know this more than they. What is done, is done. There is no coming back from it. You now must choose how to respond to it and knowing you, you are going to have to decide whether you want to let go of the upset and the anger or fester in it."

"Fester! I do -"

"Minerva," Poppy scoffed. "I have known you for most of your life, love. Do not try that with me."

Minerva frowned but didn't respond.

"If I may offer you an opinion other than those you already have?" Minerva nodded. "As someone who loved her parents dearly; this would have devastated me. I do not know that I could have done it, Min. I know you and Will loved yours enough but you weren't ever close to them as you were with my parents even."

"I always felt a little jealous of the way you all got on."

"I could not have found the strength to protect them like this," Poppy whispered. "And were I as powerful as she, and something happened to them and I had done nothing? That would have destroyed me, more so. She found that strength, as misguided as we feel it is. And I understand that she does have decent parents?"

"Very supportive," Minerva shrugged. "Were pleasant when I saw them."

"She would miss them, every day. As I miss mine every day and they died of old age, after a full and happy life."

Minerva groaned and rubbed her head again until Poppy pulled her hand away.

"I keep saying you're going to rub a hole in your forehead if you carry on like that."

"There's more going on that I can't tell you but when did it all get so complicated?"

"I think life has always been complicated, Min," Poppy chuckled. "You just kept it at arm's length most of the time."

Minerva frowned and realised the truth of the statement and turned to face her friend. She took Poppy's hand and squeezed it gently.

"I'm sorry for not being a good friend. A good sister. I'm sorry for only coming to see you if I am in need."

"Nonsense," Poppy smiled. "I don't expect you to come and sit with me every day, Min. And our dinners on occasion are lovely. I don't need you to be someone you're not. I'm just trying to show you that it's okay if what you are building with her is different than what we have, or what you have with Albus."

"I will do better," Minerva nodded, almost to herself. She stopped Poppy as she opened her mouth to speak. "I would like to do better, Poppy."

"Then do," she smiled. "I will be glad of your company when you think of it. But I mean what I say. We are fine. As we always are. As we always will be."

"Thank you," Minerva sighed. "I have much to catch up on, but perhaps on the weekend, we might have dinner?"

"I'd love that," Poppy said, getting up and pulling Minerva up and into a hug. "Let me hug you once in a while, alright? It's what I do."

"Contrary to what you think," Minerva muttered as she wrapped her arms around her friend. "I do genuinely appreciate them."

"Good," Poppy chuckled. "Go and make yourself useful elsewhere, then." Minerva left via the door and turned around when Poppy's voice summoned her back. "Remember that angry Minerva is often very obvious. And that it might be very difficult, for someone who doesn't know you as I do, to discern who exactly you may be angry with."

Minerva's gut clenched at the thought and she nodded appreciatively before leaving without further delay. She wasn't quite sure what to do about any of it but Poppy's candour had helped her see what she needed to work towards but to do that might take the time they did not really have.