Pins and Needles

Chapter 2: Filing Away

"I see you have discovered my favourite place in all of London, Miss Granger."

Hermione had been completely oblivious to the fact that someone had made their way around the bookshelves sheltering her little hideaway. Startled, she looked up to see Minerva McGonagall smiling down at her.

"Prof– um…," she started to get up from her armchair while searching for a fitting way of addressing her former professor, then settled for, "Madam?" in a tone that made her lack of confidence regarding her choice more than obvious.

The older woman motioned for her to remain seated and let herself sink into the second armchair opposite Hermione while huffing and rolling her eyes dramatically. "That alone would be enough for me to eternally resent the Ministry. I have not had to worry about how people are to address me for decades. Now everyone is uncomfortable and I get called Miss, Mrs., Ma'am, even Headmistress by one or two gits who somehow managed to evade news of the situation." She took a deep breath and managed to calm down. "Just call me Minerva, please."

Relieved at the much friendlier tone the last sentence had been spoken in, Hermione answered, "I will be sure to remember that. Minerva." She put extra stress on the name, partly to demonstrate her willingness to use it, but mostly to convince herself that it was indeed okay to do so. It would take some getting used to, that much she was sure of. She added, "If you stop calling me Miss Granger, that is."

"Agreed. Hermione." McGonagall had copied her tone and Hermione was almost sure she had seen the hint of an amused smile tucking at the other woman's lips. "Now, how about you tell me all about that book you have been devouring over a nice cup of tea?"

Hermione had been treated to some tea a couple of times over the last few weeks, but had never been forward enough to ask for it. The familiarity with which McGonagall ordered theirs and the way they got served with biscuits as well suggested that she was a particularly valued customer indeed.

Her choice of topic turned out to be just the kind of ice breaker that McGonagall must have been hoping for. The book in question was an introduction into the very basics of inventing your own spells and the older woman happily offered several recommendations for further reading on the matter. Just as Hermione began relaxing into the conversation, McGonagall put down her now empty cup rather suddenly, then looked at her intently before asking, "So… filing?"

Hermione felt herself tense up immediately. She had been hoping to avoid the topic, but her former teacher obviously was well informed. "It pays the bills."

McGonagall frowned, unable or perhaps simply unwilling to hide her dismay. "I thought you would be interested in pursuing a mastery. We both know you are extremely gifted. In more than one field."

"I can't." Hermione was aware that her voice had shifted to a much less friendly tone rather abruptly. She was just as aware of how the change in topic had instantly triggered an almost physical feeling of pain in her chest. She did not want to go there. She forced herself to take several deep breaths to fight the rising panic, then took another sip from her tea. She had hoped that McGonagall would take the hint and move on with the conversation, but when she directed her attention back from the cup towards her former professor, she knew that was not going to happen.

A part of Hermione wanted her to stop the conversation right there. To just mutter some excuse about a forgotten appointment and leave. It was the part that had come to dominate most of her conversations lately, focused solely on keeping them away from certain topics. Another part of her, however, insisted on pointing out to her that the woman opposite her was still waiting for her to continue. Not prodding. Just waiting.

Hermione had always held her former head of house in high esteem. She had been her favourite professor by far. Right now, that left her stunned. She could not bring herself to simply walk away. And the damn woman was still just sitting there, refilling her cup, waiting. And not giving her any excuse for an exit whatsoever.

She tried thinking of some kind of plausible explanation that would not involve baring her soul. Any lie would do so long as it would not be totally transparent. But nothing would come up.

Finally, Hermione relented. Not looking at McGonagall but instead picking on her napkin, she continued. "I can manage the ministry work because it's mind-numbing. Not a challenge in any way. And because it doesn't require a whole lot of interaction with my colleagues." She realised it actually felt good to talk to someone and continued, "I'm moody. Grumpy. I don't sleep well and have trouble concentrating. Quite frankly, I'm a mess. Any master would have to be insane to take me on as an apprentice."

"Care to test my level of insanity?" McGonagall's reply had come instantly. It caused Hermione's head to shoot up just as quickly, accompanied by an incredulous laugh that she hadn't been able to suppress. McGonagall kept a straight face and continued, "There are no rules requiring a time limit for an apprenticeship. We can take as long as you need."

It took Hermione another moment to understand her former professor was being serious. For one short, glorious moment she felt her heart soar at the prospect. Then reality came crashing in and she slowly shook her head. "I cannot afford to give up my job. I managed to find my parents again–" she paused, realising that McGonagall had no way of knowing what she was talking about, then continued, "let's just say they won't be willing to support me and there is no way I am even going to ask. And since you're not at a school anymore I can't very well work as your assistant either." That was the most common way for apprentices to earn their keep. It would have been a decent Plan B, had Plan A not failed quite so spectacularly.

Without missing a beat, McGonagall added, "Room and board included."

Hermione stared at her, shocked at both the generosity and the bluntness of the offer, "I couldn't."

"You would love to, would you not?"

"That's not the point."

"I beg to differ. No…," McGonagall put up a hand to keep Hermione from voicing her protest. "You are going to let me finish, Miss Granger." While not exactly unpleasant her tone was firm enough to discourage any kind of discussion. With a hint of satisfaction she noticed that drawing on her professor persona had had the desired effect and continued, "One. I have no intention to start my teaching life over at another institution. I do, however, love to teach. Especially when having the good fortune of encountering an exceptionally talented student. If you believe you would be a burden, you could not be further from the truth.

"Two. Right now I am in serious danger of becoming a lonely, bitter old hag. Some amount of regular social interaction would benefit me a lot. I do believe much the same can be said about the current state of your social life?" She stopped for a moment to give Hermione a chance to reply.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call myself old…" Her voice trailed off as McGonagall's raised eyebrows left no doubt that her attempt at deflection was not being appreciated.

Not deigning her with a spoken reply, McGonagall simply continued her argument, "Three. While my finances are none of your concern, you may rest assured that this arrangement would not result in any undue amount of stress on them."

Her mind continued to supply more, but she knew better than to voice it, 'Four. I hate seeing you like this. It is not your fault you got drawn into this nightmare. The world owes you all the help you need for getting yourself out of it again. And of course, most of the world could not care less. But I do.'

It would have been top of the list, but she knew Hermione would not appreciate being pitied. So instead McGonagall went on, "If you insisted on it, you could probably arrange for a half-day job at the Ministry. However, I would much prefer to avoid any unnecessary restrictions to our schedule and simply focus our efforts on your apprenticeship." Our schedule. Our efforts. She had chosen her words carefully and hoped they were going to have the effect she was aiming for.

Not willing to risk interrupting her former professor again, Hermione waited for a few seconds to make sure she truly was finished before speaking up again. "I don't even know where you live."

McGonagall took the statement as an indication that she had succeeded in at least making her consider the offer. Finally allowing herself to smile, she said, "That may easily be rectified."

Her curiosity alone would have been enough for Hermione to take the hand the other woman had extended.