"Um… Professor? Where are we going?" Hermione asked, trotting tiredly to keep up with Professor McGonagall's brisk stride. Her arm throbbed and a tension headache was beginning to coil around to her temples from the back of her neck from her recent encounter with Marlene.

"Danby's Creature Comforts," the elder witch said with her usual perfunctory grace, not even pausing to look back.

Hermione's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as they walked up to a store that she didn't remember existing in the future. She was somewhat relieved to find one inconsistency between Future Hogsmeade and current Hogsmeade, but was also confused as to how a pet store could have gone out of business in this location. Considering the number of students who had familiars, it should have done quite well as it was rather onerous to mail order supplies from Diagon Alley.

The front window display showcased an assortment of birds. From barn owls to tiny colorful canaries, they moved around and chirped. The owls would occasionally open one eye and let a disdainful, disgruntled hoot at their diurnal neighbors. The enclosures were tidy and clean, far from the mess of the owlery where wearing new shoes was only asking for disaster.

Hermione watched the canaries for a moment as McGonagall pressed open the door, the cheery bell ringing as it swung. Following her professor in, she scanned the store, once more pleasantly surprised at the tidiness of the establishment. It was brightly lit and the products were all displayed neatly and various animal enclosures were littered around the room in equally good repair. She was used to the chaotic disorder of most magical shops – especially at the Magical Menagerie where it was dingy and dim – and was impressed at the tidiness here.

McGonagall had stalked right over to the counter, passed a few stragglers from the afternoon rush, and cleared her throat. Hermione followed a step behind, feeling more than a bit curious as to what errand had led them to this establishment. The front clerk looked up, his mouth popping open in shock and recognition. He looked rather young. Perhaps two or three years out of school, and given his reaction he was familiar with the elder witch.

"Mr. Kinn, I am glad to see you well," McGonagall greeted with some degree of warmth.

"Professor!" He seemed nervous but happy to see her. "What can I help you with?"

"Miss Granger here, is in need of a familiar, if it's at all possible."

Hermione gaped. Of all the errands she had expected to run with McGonagall, getting an animal companion is the last thing she had anticipated.

"Of course. What kind of animal would you be looking for?" Kinn asked, his eyes focusing on Hermione.

"Um, I like cats," Hermione answered, her voice a little shaky and unsure. She thought of her Crookshanks, the loyal and intelligent half-cat, half-kneazle that she had loved the moment she saw his dejected and defeated face in the Magical Menagerie. He had been in a sorry state. Distrustful of everyone and violently tempered. His fluffy orange fur had been matted and unkempt, like he had given up and refused to let anyone help him. Hermione had been told that he had been in the shop for years, and no one would take him in. There was no other history on him, but she remembered feeling that there was loss and trauma that fueled his defensive behavior. It was the heartbreak in Crooks' eyes that made her instantly know that he was coming home with her as well as the near instant bond they felt. Even without the familiar bond she couldn't have left him behind without compromising something within herself.

"Come on back," he instructed, waving her to follow him to a back room. He opened the door just a crack and quickly stuck his foot through it and a loud meow sounded from inside the room. Kinn drew his wand and muttered a barrier charm before he opened the door wide enough for them to pass through.

The room was filled with shelves and carpeted cat trees. Cats were lounging on nearly every surface and a good half dozen that had attempted to crowd around the door were being blocked by the ward that had been spelled to keep them from escaping out the door. Hermione stepped through followed by Professor McGonagall. The door shut behind them and Kinn dropped the charm. Most of the cats kept a distance, eyeing the newcomers with interest, but a few approached and went as far as to weave between their legs. Hermione bent down to pet a calico that was leaving white fur on her black stockinged legs as McGonagall reached up to stroke the ears of a ginger curled up at the top of one of the towers.

"These are all of our adult cats. Everyone here ranges from a year old to around seventeen," Kinn let them know. "Once you greet everyone in here I can take you back to see the kittens." He took a step back and went about some work on a counter to the far left of the room.

A smile found itself on Hermione's face as she went around greeting the felines. Some were eager for attention while others rebuffed her with imperious looks and drawn back ears.

She pressed aside the negative thoughts that pressed in around her mind and threatened to shut her down, and just enjoyed the moment.

"Well?" McGonagall asked gently. She was standing nearby watching her interact.

Hermione looked up at the chary maternal eyes of the older woman and shook her head. While she loved playing with the various fur balls, after a while and engaging with all of them, she didn't feel that instant connection she had felt when she first met Crookshanks. The feeling that had been explained to her what felt like a long time ago when she sat at the great dining table at Grimmauld Place with the Weasleys, Harry, and Sirius discussing ghost cats and familiars. Sirius had told her about the magic bond that could be formed between bonded witches and animals. She realized now as she played with these other cats, that the feeling of kinship she had with her big, fluffy, orange companion had –in part – been magic, tying them together.

"They're so sweet. I feel bad, but I don't feel the familiar bond from any of them. Maybe if I was just taking a pet…" Hermione sighed. It would be hard to leave them behind, knowing that they were going to have to continue waiting and hoping for a home.

"There's nothing for it, then," McGonagall agreed, giving a last pat to a purring, elderly tortoiseshell. "Come along then."

Hermione scrambled up from where she had been squatting and followed her professor. Kinn rushed over to take the lead and directed them to another door. Following the same procedure as before, they stepped into the kitten room.

The kitten room was significantly louder with small felines all fighting to be heard over each other. A few cuddle puddles of napping babies dotted the area where soft mats or blankets were strewn about. This room had kennels lining one of the walls, but otherwise was set up much like the other room had been with numerous cat trees, and food and water bowls lining the baseboards. The kittens ranged from nearly full grown adolescents, to kittens that were just a couple months old.

Hermione laughed when a gray Scottish fold kitten decided to try to climb her leg. She reached down to pick him up. He squirmed in her hands, but was purring incessantly as she cradled him to her chest for a moment.

"These are all our adoptable kittens," informed Kinn. "The two still in the kennel are our youngest. They were found a couple of weeks ago without a mother, so we've kept them separated until they adjust. We think they're about six weeks old, due to their dental development. They're still feral so they aren't quite adoptable. Hopefully in a couple of weeks they'll be better socialized."

Both curious, Hermione and McGonagall moved to the kennel to look in at the kittens. There were two, huddled together. One was a solid black puff, nearly invisible in the shadows except for two reflected pricks of light glaring back at them, and the other was a bright orange, flat faced kitten that watched them carefully.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. It couldn't be. Right? There's no way. It was just a close resemblance to her dear friend. It would be too much of a coincidence, she thought as the ginger ball of fluff got up and cautiously approached the grated door, his baby legs still clumsy. Hermione stuck her fingers through the bars and held her breath. She wiggled them a little as he stretched out his face and sniffed at her fingers.

A beat passed. Hermione felt like even her heart was on hold as she waited. A loud rumbling purr came to life in the little body and the kitten fervently rubbed his cheeks against her outstretched fingers. Just like that a part of her heart she thought lost forever slotted back into place. This was without a doubt in her mind Crookshanks.

"Well, I think you better reconsider their adoptability," McGonagall announced, sounding pleasantly smug.

Sirius kicked a rock as they walked up the path to the castle. He was brooding. Which did not go unnoticed by his friends. James was lovingly heckling him about it while Remus and Peter enjoyed the show.

"Did Minnie take your 'Mione away from you?" Cooed James. The corners of his mouth curled in a closed mouth, imprudent smile.

The mock sympathetic grins on his friends' faces were nearly enough to make him cross his arms and pout, but he resisted knowing it would fuel the flames of their amusement at his expense. He couldn't resist snapping his hand out and stealing James' glasses in retribution, though.

"Hey!" James shouted, reaching for his glasses as Sirius danced out of reach. "You know I'm not actually blind without those things, right?" He scowled petulantly.

"Now now, Prongs. Out of the four of us, don't you think it's a bit hypocritical for you to rag on Padfoot about his girl?" Remus cocked an eyebrow at James. He walked backwards with his hands in his pockets, clearly entertained.

"'Oh, Lily flower! Please go on a date with me. Spare me the misery of another futile moment away from your presence!'" Peter abstracted theatrically, beating his breast, and running his hand through his hair in imitation of James. "'Oh, my loveliest Evans, your beauty is beyond compare with your sunset hair and summer green stare."'

The dry glare James proceeded to level at Peter had them all laughing loudly. Even Sirius in his foul mood felt himself crack a smile and chuckle. A few other students that were also heading back to the castle looked their way, either grinning in amusement at the infamous quad of boys, or blushing and tittering behind their hands.

"Shut up, Byron. We're supposed to be making fun of Sirius right now, not me." James crossed his arms and pouted, giving up on retrieving his glasses for the moment.

"We can do both," Remus pointed out gleefully.

"Just accept it, Prongs. It's your lot in life to be the fool in love," Sirius said smugly, his good humor restored a bit at his friend's expense. He plopped James' glasses on top of his head, pulling back his bangs.

In all honesty he was probably also just as much of a fool in love. Hermione was always in the foreground of his thoughts. Though her predicament was shocking, that alone wasn't enough for the persistent yearning of his heart. Unlike James, though, he didn't want to shout his adoration from the rooftops. Sirius wanted it to be whispered through the rustling leaves by the autumn breeze; pressed into the shores by the crashing waves; and felt in the tremors of the land beneath their feet.

It was insane to feel this way. By all accounts he had known her for little more than a month. Yet, if there was one thing worth learning from his antiquated and dogmatically supercilious family, was that deep magic knew no coincidence. Magic had tethered Hermione to him. Time itself had deposited her for him to find, and the soul-deep faith he had in her that he had latched on to, was divined somehow by some higher magic than he had known existed before. His direction in life that had seemed so vague prior, had been snapped into certainty upon finding her.

"Well, that's an odd sight," Remus observed, looking over their shoulders. "Speak of the devil and she shall appear."

Sirius paused in his stride and turned to look. The others followed his lead. Lily was hurriedly walking towards them, her deep auburn hair wisping out behind her. She looked uncomfortable, a nervous quality developed as she noticed that they were all watching her. Or maybe it was because James had yet to react to her presence that unnerved her. Sirius picked the glasses off his head and shoved them onto the bridge of his friend's nose.

"Oi!" James complained and he straightened them out. His indignation halted when comprehension dawned on him that the object of his affections was approaching him. Hurriedly dusted himself and raked his hand through his hair. "Evans!" His excitement was palpable.

Lily eyed James as she finally reached them with a cautious air. It was less frigid than previous encounters, to Sirius' surprise. Perhaps Hermione's influence and meddling was softening the redhead a bit toward them, and James in particular. You could only see the worst in someone for so long before you start to see their better attributes.

"James," she nodded to him civilly before redirecting her attention to Sirius. She ignored James' surprise at not being 'Potter-ed' by her. "I wanted to check on Hermione. Is she not with you?"

"Professor Minnie needed her for an errand earlier. She's going to meet us in the common room later," he responded, ignoring her perfunctory eye roll at the less than deferential pet name for their head of house. The corners of his mouth pulled down in trepidation. "Why did you want to check on her?"

At this question though, Lily hesitated. Her usual confidence was replaced by doubt. Her fingers fidgeted with the sleeves of her knitted sweater and she glanced nervously to the side as she seemed to gather her thoughts. She felt very young at that moment, Sirius couldn't help but notice.

"Well…" she hesitated like she was second guessing if she wanted to tell them. "Well, Marlene apparently decided to…talk to her at the Three Broomsticks, but based on how I found Marlene I don't think it went well, and I got worried." She crossed her arms defensively, like she thought they would blame her.

Sirius felt a pit land in his stomach. He thought back to how Hermione had looked and acted when she returned from the bathroom with Professor McGonagall. In hindsight he realized she had been jittery and perturbed. She had been a little too wide eyed, and had her head tilted ever so slightly too far towards the floor. Had she been shaking? Sirius tried to remember from the brief moment he had grabbed her hand, grasping for the tiny details to clue him in that he might have dismissed it as a reaction to being suddenly imposed upon by their professor. It only took a little bit of thought to realize that was an erroneous judgment. Hermione wouldn't be nervous over being asked to accompany McGonagall for an errand. Not the girl who had survived his cousin and the loss of nearly everything she knew and loved by being thrown backwards in time.

"What happened?" James asked, his excitement at her voluntary presence dimmed. The corners of his mouth tipped down in agitation to match the rest of the group.

Lily looked towards him, pausing a moment before answering. She had likely never seen James make a face like that. Barring a few arguments, he always presented her with whatever cocky facade he could poorly manage over his starstruck countenance.

"I'm not entirely sure. Marlene didn't say much but she looked like she had been crying and her cheek was red like she had been hit."

"Hermione wouldn't hit someone without reason," Peter snipped, with no doubt clouding the words.

Lily raised her palms, pacifyingly. "I'm not implying she did. I don't know what happened, and I'm not inclined to assume anything one way or another," she said, color filling her cheeks and spreading to her ears. "I was actually hoping to find out what happened from her."

"You can join us in the common room, while we wait for Hermione to get back, if you like," Remus suggested with a shrug, plainly ignoring the wide, hopeful eyes and gaping mouth of James at the invitation.

Lily looked just as taken aback by the question. It wasn't the first time she had been invited to spend time with them, but every other time had been accompanied by expectations and hopes of a romantic overture. Though James clearly was hoping she'd say yes and join them, the practical suggestion coming from Remus changed the context of the invitation. Still, she hesitated, unsure she wanted to break the long standing standard she had established early on in the school years. After a moment of thought Lily finally nodded.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Come on, then," Remus shrugged casually and turned on his heel to lead the way up the castle pathway.

Sirius shrugged as well and glanced between Lily, James, and Peter before following after Remus. Peter jogged to keep up with him. With a short look behind him Sirius watched as James smoothed back his hair, and gave Lily his best boyish grin, even as she rolled her eyes and began to trek after them.

A fool in love indeed.

"Professor, what suddenly made you think I needed a familiar?" Hermione asked, her heart was still pounding with excitement as they walked through the castle. The basket that contained her precious cargo was clutched securely to her chest like she was afraid of letting it slip from her grasp, even at the expense of her still sore arm.

McGonagall tilted her head to look at her with a surprisingly soft expression for the usually stern woman. Or maybe it wasn't as unusual as Hermione assumed. After all this Minerva McGonagall had yet to go through the first wizarding war. Though the similarities outweighed the differences – like the maternal instinct that peeked through when dealing with her students or her subtle rebellious streak she displayed when no one was paying attention – this McGonagall seemed more relaxed than her future counterpart.

"I read your journal," she replied honestly.

Hermione could only blink in surprise. There was an odd part of her that felt a little violated for the span of a heartbeat at the statement, but that quickly dissipated. It wasn't like it had been her diary, it was just an outline of events with a few annotations filling in her thoughts and speculations. It was mostly just disconcerting that someone had read it without her knowing, but given that she voluntarily left it in the care of Pomfrey when she wasn't using it, it wasn't as though it had fallen into the hands of someone completely unauthorized.

"Of course Dumbledore doesn't know. He often keeps things close to the hilt, but given that both me and Poppy already know of your, rather unprecedented, situation, we decided to take matters into our own hands and read it," she continued to explain. "Dumbledore is many things. A brilliant strategist and thinker, a powerful politician and wizard, and a compassionate person with the best interests in mind. But he thinks too broadly. He thinks of countless outcomes and concerns himself only with the future and misses the present and its worries. As such, we – Poppy and I, that is – thought it prudent that we take a vested interest in your well being. Though, Mr. Black and his friends may be doing a fine job of it, they are only teenagers. Boys at that."

A lump of emotion formed in the back of Hermione's throat. Not wanting to cry for the umpteenth time that day, she took a few careful breaths to push back the tears that were gathering in her eyes. She let her gase fall on a painting of a leisuring Edwardian woman reading on a bench. A cat rolled on it's back at her feet.

McGonagall had always advocated for her students, and for what she believed was right regardless of rules, but that was easy to forget that when she was also their main disciplinarian at school. She was the woman who put them in detention for sneaking out to Hagrid's after curfew, but also the same woman who publicly denounced Umbridge and put forth all her effort to see her students succeed where others had been determined to make them fail.

"So, you determined that I needed a familiar?" Hermione questioned after clearing her throat.

"I've lost a familiar before," McGonagall answered, her voice a little more tender at the words. "For those who've never had a bonded familiar and haven't had the misfortune of losing one, they wouldn't understand the absence that sort of loss will leave on a witch. Once bonded they become life-long companions and our magic grows and merges together. It's an ancient and powerful connection as evidenced by your unlikely reunion." Her face pulled into a brighter smile at this and Hermione couldn't help but mirror her. Having Crookshanks back was more than she could have hoped for in what still felt like a bleak existence. "It had been hard for me to lose my familiar, but you've lost everything. You are far too young for what life has dealt you, and I had hope that a new familiar might at least help you in some small way."

It had been a long time since Hermione had felt young. Even longer still that she felt that she could truly rely on an adult. Older Sirius had been the last adult she felt she could confide in and lean on when things spiraled out of her control. After he died, it felt like the last part of her youth had been shattered and even with the other Order members around, it had been like a crushing weight of responsibility that her, Harry, and Ron had adopted with no option to allocate that weight with others. Their last year at Hogwarts and the time spent on the run had Hermione pushing her limits of her mind and soul. She nearly yielded to the load that she could not share more than once. In that time she forgot what it was like, and forgot the security that came along with having someone older and wiser assume some responsibility over her welfare.

As they approached the Gryffindor Tower, stopped at a thought as she let her mind wander over the day's events. McGonagall paused too and looked down at her with an expectant stare.

"Professor, what about Peter?" She asked tentatively. "If you read the journal then you must know…" she trailed off. She didn't want to think about that shriveled up, pathetic version of Peter.

A strange look crossed McGonagall's face. It was some amalgamation of grief, rage, and shame. It was deeply felt. Like a mother who was haunted by the catastrophe life had wrecked on her children.

"Yes. Well," McGonagall said to gather herself. "It doesn't seem like any of my students got the lives I had hoped for them." Her lips flattened into a stern line, closer resembling her older counterpart. It lasted a moment, that welling of emotion that rose to the surface of her usually indomitable features, before she regained herself. "I can't justify it within myself to hold someone accountable for something they haven't done yet. It's our responsibility, those of us that know, to set a new course and hope the future will be better than what you experienced."

Relief flooded Hermione. It would have been easy for McGonagall to disavow Peter. But she didn't.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly.

"You're most welcome, Miss Granger," she said, her voice gentling. "I'm your ally. You aren't in the same position as the other students, so I hope you feel safe in confiding in me as you need. My door is always open to you even if you just need sanctuary."

In an impulsive move, that years ago she would never have dreamed of, Hermione set her basket down and hugged her professor. McGonagall didn't hesitate to give her a gentle squeeze and pat her on the back comfortingly. Pulling back after a moment, Hermione gathered up her basket and turned to McGonagal.

"Goodnight, Professor," she smiled before heading up to the Fat Lady and entered the common room.