Hermione followed the old man as he led the way to the living room, her heartbeat increasing with every step. When they entered the wonderful decorated room she saw her professor sitting in a comfortable armchair reading a book, looking very relaxed. She didn’t even turn her head when they entered the room. 

“Minerva my dear”, he greeted her softly, stepping behind her and giving her shoulders a slight squeeze.

She closed her eyes in response. “Hello love.” 

Albus Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at the young woman, standing in the middle of the room, somewhat lost. 

“Look my dear,” he said facing his wife again, “I have a little surprise for you.” 

Minerva opened her eyes immediately, turning around. She knew her husbands surprises were always very…. well, interesting. 

And then she saw her. 

“Miss Granger, what are you… Albus what is he meaning of this!?” Her voice sounded cold as a midwinter’s night, when she turned her attention towards her husband. “How could you do such a thing, without asking me first!”  

Albus flinched at the fury in her eyes. This is not going well. 

“And what about..” she gestured between them. 

“She knows, Min. I didn’t tell her, she figured it out herself. She is a bright young lady. I invited her to stay with us over the holidays. ” It was then that he noticed that Hermione wasn’t in the room anymore and he mentally cursed himself for telling his wife with his student being present. He should have foreseen her reaction. 

Following her husbands look, Minerva became aware of the girls absence, too. “Where is she?” 

“Getting her things, I presume.” His voice was very firm now. 

“Why would she do that? This is about you not informing me about such important things and not about her staying here.” The older woman asked in confusion. 

“Minerva, I invited her because her parents left her alone for Christmas and I thought both of you would enjoy each others company. Do you know that you’re the only adult she confides in? I didn’t tell you that I invited her, because I wanted to surprise you. If I had known that you would react this way I wouldn’t have done it of course. I’m sorry about that, and I’m even sorrier that Hermione is the mourner.” His voice sounded very sad now. “Was that really necessary, Minerva? You could have yelled at me later. I brought her here because she feels alone and not wanted by her parents and now you made her feel that you don’t want her either, at the very first moment at our house.”  

Minerva felt dreadful, realising how much her outburst must have hurt the young woman she loved so dearly. Of course she was delighted at the thought of spending time with Hermione; she just lost her temper about her husband making important decisions without her. 

“I’m sorry, Albus. I didn’t mean yelling at you and I didn’t mean hurting Hermione. I was just so… I don’t know. I’m tired and my chest hurts and I don’t know if I can be strong for Hermione. ” She sighed, approaching her husband slowly. 

He took her in his arms immediately. “I know, Min. I know. It’s all right,” he softly reassured her, while holding her close. “She doesn’t need you to be strong for her, you know? She needs you as her friend and not as her Professor. And maybe you’ll find strength in one another. “ 

He felt her nod against his chest. “I need to speak with Hermione.” She stepped out of her husbands loving arms, heading for the upstairs guestroom.  

When Hermione didn’t respond to her knocks, the older witch entered the room carefully, finding her young student already dressed in her coat with her bag in her hand, staring out of the window. She didn’t turn around, not wanting her professor to see her tears. 

Minerva sat on the bed, facing her students back. “Hermione, dear, I’m so sorry. I truly am. I didn’t mean to give you the feeling that you’re not welcome. I was just mad at Albus for not asking me and I lost my temper.”  

The older woman waited for her student to respond, but the girl resumed staring out of the window silently. 

“Please, Hermione say something.” Her voice sounded pleading now. 

There was a long pause and just when Minerva was about to say something she heard the young woman respond quietly. “I want to go home, Professor.” 

“Hermione please stay. I don’t want you to go. Please look at me.”  Minerva swallowed hard when her student finally obeyed. She was prepared for the girl’s anger and even for the tears, but not for the hurt in her eyes that looked so utterly defeated.  The older witch fought her own tears now, knowing that she had caused this.  

“I doubt it, Professor. There is nothing to worry about anyway.” Her voice sounded completely emotionless.  

“Oh Hermione, please don’t doubt that I want you here. I really do and I’d love spending Christmas with you.” She stood up and gathered the crying girl in her arms, letting her own tears fall. Hermione didn’t relax into the embrace as she normally would have and Minerva released her after a few moments.  

The older woman was at a loss for words and more than glad when she heard her husband enter the room. 

“Dinner is almost ready, ladies. Min, would you give me a moment with our Hermione please?” He looked into his wife’s eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Minerva nodded and left quietly. 

“Come and sit with me Hermione,” he said as he set on the bed, looking older than Hermione had ever seen him. The young witch followed his wish, but didn’t look at him. 

“My dear child, I’m so sorry.” He caught his student by surprise when he took her hand in his, facing her. “You must believe me, everything she said earlier had nothing to do with you, even when it felt like that, and I know it did. It wasn’t even about me either, you know? Everything she said just reflected her own fear, I’m afraid.”  

He saw his students doubting and questioning eyes and answered her unasked question. 

 “Let me try to explain. Your Professor is forced to constantly play the role of the strict spinster and deputy headmistress in her every day life and that is very exhausting to her. And than Umbridge this year… This is her only refuge, Hermione. The only place where she can be soft and weak if she wants to, where she can show her marriage openly. She needs this time desperately to recover form the school year, especially this year. When I brought you here, she felt like I betrayed all what this home means. That is why she reacted the way she did. She needed a few moments to remember, that you’re not just any student, but a young woman she holds very close to her heart. She wants you here Hermione, as much as I do. She needs you. Please don’t go.”  

He looked at her expectedly, hoping she would understand despite her youth. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth when he saw her nodding. This time she caught him by surprise when she leant forward, but her recovered fast enough to open his arms for her and hold her to his chest, with one hand cradling her head as she cried again. “Shh, my dearest child. I’m so glad you’re staying. It’s all right. Everything will be alright. Shhh” 

He held her until she calmed down, savouring the feeling of being a comfort for the young witch. The undeviating trust of a child like Hermione is a precious gift, rarely given to someone else than parents, which he thought he’d never receive, being childless. 

“Professor, “she interrupted his train of thought, “I think dinner is ready.” 

He chuckled at her sudden change of subject. “Yes dear, I think you’re quite right.” 

---------- 

Dinner was a very quiet event. Albus tried his very best to keep a conversation going, and Hermione answered politely, but she wouldn’t offer a question herself or look at Minerva. She excused herself immediately after dinner. 

“She didn’t even look at me, Albus.” The older woman was close to tears again, knowing that there is nothing she could do now to make Hermione feel better. She’d have to wait for the girls forgiveness, hoping that she would forgive her.  

“Give her time, love. It was an eventful day for all of us.” He smiled tenderly at her, covering her small hand with his. 

--------- 

Hermione lay in her bed, pretending to be asleep, when she heard someone enter her room carefully. She really didn’t want to speak with anyone right now.  

Feeling someone sitting down on her bed, the girl held her breath for a moment. 

“My dear child, I wish I could tell you how much I love you. I’m so very sorry I hurt you. I hope you can forgive me.” 

Hermione felt her heart melt, hearing her mentor’s sad voice and feeling the older woman’s hand stroking her cheek.  

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” she whispered when she lent forward to give her student a soft kiss on the forehead. 

The young woman felt a sudden wetness on her cheek and knew that her mentor must have been crying. She whispered a soft “how could I not forgive you” when she heard the door being closed. “I love you, too.”

Christmas

It was the day before Christmas holidays and the castle was covered in heavy snow. Most of the pupils were excited about the break. Hogwarts would be shut down this year for the holidays to renew some of the wards and everybody would be spending Christmas at home with their families. Harry would enjoy the holidays at the Burrow with Ron and his family, and only Hermione would be alone. Her parents would visit an aunt in the USA and Hermione didn’t want to go with them. Not that her parents were sorry about it. She had become a stranger to them since she started attending Hogwarts and there was nothing she could do about it.

 The young woman spent her last evening in the library, reading a book about Transfiguration when she heard the familiar voice of her headmaster.

 “Good evening, Miss Granger. I trust everything is all right.” The legendary Albus Dumbledore stood right beside her, smiling gently, wearing his favourite night blue robe and his eyes twinkling as usual.

“Yes, thank you Professor. I’m just enjoying the silence.” Hermione sat a little straighter in her armchair, knowing that there was more to come.

“I see. I wondered if I might have a word with you in my office.” His eyes suddenly seemed to lose a bit of that twinkle.

Hermione stood up immediately, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other.  “Of course, Professor. Did I… I mean…hm…”

 Seeing his student’s distress the old man chuckled slightly. “No, my dear. You’ve done nothing wrong. Why is it that everyone thinks there is something wrong when I just want to talk? ”

Hermione knew that the question was rhetorical, but the answer left her mouth before she could stop it. “Because there usually is something wrong when you want to talk with a student.”

He couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “You sound very much like a certain Transfiguration mistress I know. She told me just the same.”

He offered her his arm and they slowly made their way to his office.

-----------------

Being led to a small sitting area in front of the fire, Hermione sat down nervously, watching her headmaster conjuring two cups of hot chocolate.

“Now Miss Granger, I think you, unlike any other person here at Hogwarts, already know that your Professor McGonagall and I are in a relationship?”

The young woman couldn’t look him in the eyes and blushed a deep shade of pink. “Well, I didn’t know for sure, but I thought that much.”

“It’s all right Miss Granger. I trust you with our little secret, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I’m going to ask you a huge favour and I want you to know that I won’t think any differently of you, should you choose not to do it.” He looked at her very seriously.

Hermione could only nod. She was not comfortable at all with this situation and the headmaster began to scare her.

“You know that Hogwarts will be shut for the holidays and Professor McGonagall and I will spend Christmas at our manor. What you can’t know is that she usually is very tired at this time of the year and needs as much rest as she can get. As you may have noticed your Professor is still suffering from the stunners that were cast upon her, and despite what she wants to make us all believe, she is not well. She needs care and that is where the problem lies. Sadly I need to spend many hours renewing the wards at Hogwarts and can’t be there for her all day. I don’t want her to be on her own during the holidays and I know she is very fond of you. That is why I ask you now if you would consider spending Christmas with us in our manor.”

“Oh, well… I’d love to spend Christmas with Professor McGonagall and you.” Hermione felt very relieved. No one was dead or hurt and she would not be alone during the holidays, but spending time with her two favourite professors instead.

“Are you sure?” He smiled reassuringly, wanting her to know that whatever decision she‘d make would be all right.

“Yes, I’m very sure!” The young woman smiled brightly, wondering if Professor McGonagall knew of her husband’s plans.

 “Wonderful. Now we have little obstacle to master.” The twinkling was back in his eyes as he looked at her hesitantly.

“Yes?” Of course there would be a catch in it…

“I don’t think it would be wise to tell your Professor that you are coming over for Christmas to look after her, would it?” He sipped his cocoa, giving her time to let the new information sink in.

Hermione was deep in thought for a while. She didn’t like the idea of lying to her beloved professor, but she knew the headmaster was right.

“No Professor, it certainly wouldn’t. What can we tell her though?”

“I’m not sure, Miss Granger.” Of course he knew what he’d like to tell her. The truth. That she needed Hermione as much as Hermione needed her this Christmas.

“Hm… maybe we could make it about me. That I don’t want to be alone over the holidays or something.” The young woman felt much better, knowing that she wouldn’t exactly lie to her mentor.

“Yes, I think that sounds responsible. It’ll be best if you take the train tomorrow and I’ll come and pick you up at four.” He smiled at the girl that so desperately tried not to lie to his wife. ‘She really is a bright young witch. No wonder Minerva is so very fond of her.’

Hermione nodded in agreement and stood up, heading for the door. “Good night Professor Dumbledore.”

“Good night, my dear. Sleep well,” he said as he followed her to close the door.

--------------

Hermione didn’t bother unpacking her belongings. Soon Professor Dumbledore would come to pick her up.

Exactly twenty minutes later he apparated with a small ‘pop’ directly into the living room, where his young student was sitting, reading a book.

 “Ah, Miss Granger are you ready?” he greeted smiling gently at her. 

Hermione stood up at once, eager to get away from this lonely house. “Yes sir. I didn’t unpack. How do we get there?”

“We’ll apparate,” he said cheerfully, grabbing the young woman’s bag. “Just hold on to me.”

A few seconds later Hermione found herself in a small room with beautiful furniture.

“This is your room, Miss Granger. Do you want to unpack first or shall we inform my wife of your presence?”

“I think I want to meet Professor McGonagall first.” Hermione replied nervously.

“It’s all right Miss Granger. She will be delighted to see you.” He patted her shoulders soothingly. “Come on.”

Family

Minerva always hated the feeling of being useless. The idea of being no help for anybody pained her more than her chest aching form the stunners that evil woman cast upon her, more than her arm and shoulder, hurting from the constant use of that damn walking stick she is bound to for God only knows how long. Minerva tried to sneak out of these thoughts, but since Albus shut her out of anything concerning the war she couldn't help feeling left out. She knew Albus meant well, giving her time to recover and she also knew her sore body needed the rest desperately. So she was sitting on a bench near the lake, all alone, with the cold November wind blowing, causing her to shiver slightly. She never felt so lonely in her life. It was times like these when she envied Molly for her family. It just never worked out for Minerva and she knew it was too late now. She was too old.

 
Hearing someone approach her form behind Minerva braced herself for the Mediwitch’s rant on sitting out here in the cold. She could already hear the “much to cold,” “not yet recovered,” “at your age,” and “unreasonable,” so she closed her eyes and waited for its beginning. Meeting only silence, the older witch opened her eyes and looked up at the younger one standing next to her, offering a warm smile and a cup of steaming hot tea.

 
“Here Professor,” the young woman said “I thought I would bring you something to warm you up a bit. It's getting colder, isn’t it?”

 
Hermione Granger. The brain of the golden trio and the pride of my teaching career ‘and of your heart,’ as Albus would add. Though I assure him that she's no more special to me than any of my other students, we both know he is right.

“Professor?” the young woman stopped the older witch’s train of thought. Minerva took the cup from her and looked into her questioning brown eyes. “Are you all right?”

I’m trying to smile and I know I’m failing. “Yes, Miss Granger. I’m fine. I just thought…” The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

 
“Yes?”

 
“Nothing, Miss Granger. Nothing. That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you.” And to Hermione’s surprise her mentor whispered so silently Hermione almost couldn’t hear her. “Your mother must be very proud to have a daughter like you.”

 
Hearing her Professor, the young witch closed her eyes for a few moments and moved to stand behind her. She didn’t know if she was going too far as she placed her hands gently on her mentor’s shoulders. Holdings her breath, she felt the older woman tense in surprise, but soon relaxing into her touch.

“Professor, what is my favourite colour?” The girl asked as if her question made perfectly logical sense.

The sitting woman leaned slightly to the right and turned her head to see if her student had gone mental, but was suddenly reminded, that movements like that were far from painless.

“Please, Professor. Do me the favour and answer my questions.”

“I have no idea what your intention is Miss Granger, but your favourite colour is bordeaux red,” the woman answered slightly irritated. Minerva McGonagall had no desire for playing twenty questions, but the pleading tone of the girl didn’t leave her with much of a choice.

“Yes. Who is my favourite Muggel author?”

“William Trevor.” Minerva said without hesitation. She had no idea why she allowed Hermione the pleasure of this silly game at all.

“A drink I hate?” the young witch requested.

“Pumpkin juice,” came the prompt answer.

“What do I want to do with my life when I’ve finished with school?” Hermione knew her Professor would like that question.

“Study to become a teacher.” Minerva tried very hard to keep her voice as emotionless as possible, but she couldn’t stop a little proud smile. She felt strangely comforted by the thought of Hermione being a teacher, hopefully at Hogwarts. She knew she’d have a hard time letting her young girl explore the world. The prospect of having her back by her side and back in the castle would always brighten up her day, no matter how bad it was.

Hermione continued her interview. “What is my greatest fear?”

Her Professor didn’t need to think about that and answered quietly “Losing the people you love.”

“How am I doing at school?” The girl couldn’t hide a smile. She was pretty sure that question would up an abrupt end to this, and indeed she didn’t need to wait long for the desired effect.

“Hermione, this is getting ridiculous!” came the clearly annoyed and impatient reply. “If you have a point, then please make it!”

“Yes Professor, I have a point.” She gave her mentor’s shoulders a soothing squeeze, still smiling at her stern professor using her first name.

“My mother, as you call her, could have not answered one of these questions correctly. Not one. Being a mother is not about giving birth, Professor.  It’s about love and care and trust. I’m a stranger to her. A mother is supposed to know her child. You know me better than anybody else in this world.” And quietly the young girl added, “I don’t know if my mother is proud of me. You tell me.”

Hermione squeezed her mentor’s shoulders one last time and slowly made her way back to the castle, when she heard her mentor’s gentle voice.

“She is Hermione. She is more proud than you would ever imagine.”