Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1: Returning

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it, I wish I did but I don't. I just write stuff. Hope you don't mind JK but your books really are too brilliant not to write for. Thank you!

**A/N: **I don't know if all the time lines are straight in this, I was never very good with figures so I hope I haven't offended anyone and I apologise in advance.

I also apologise for any spelling mistakes with the names, I am lazy and cannot be always fetching my books from the top of my bookshelf. It's just not good for me, I have a bad back. Read and Review as always, you people keep me running, thank you!

PS This is intended as a MMADness and HermiRon fanfic, so sorry if you don't like those pairings but those are the ones I believe, but it's a fic all the same, so please, read and review! You can read the ships as you please, there's chemistry everywhere!

**Summary:** Hermione left Hogwarts and she got hurt. Now that she's back, will she get hurt again? Read to find out!

**She Goes Back Again**

Chapter 1: Returning

Hermione Granger touched her hand lightly against the sturdy, huge wooden door again, a slight smile touching her mouth, one that did not reach her eyes. It was the first time she had been back since leaving four years ago, after the battle was finished and everything seemed so much better, when in fact, her world was about to fall apart. She sighed, grazing her hand lightly over the hard wooden carvings, feeling as if she had only left yesterday, knowing them almost off by heart even after all these years. As she had walked up the grass, memories from the battle and other happier times had popped into her head like bubbles.

One particular patch was where Mr Weasley had been attacked and had died in his wife's arms during the final battle; another was where they had had their first flying lesson and Neville had fallen off his broomstick in their first year. Hermione sighed again, feeling again the now very familiar feeling of sadness that swamped her as she thought of what had happened to all those people who had been so good, and had suffered because of it. Because they had strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.

"Hermione?" A gruff voice ventured behind her, sounding like who ever it was, was just behind her. A grin flashing on her face, she swung around and flung herself on one of her dearest friends.

"Hagrid!" She cried as she hugged him and he lifted her slightly off the floor as he swept her up in his arms, both very happy to see the other. He laughed and she could feel the breath being squeezed from her lungs as his arms squashed her.

"I'm so happy to see you." She rasped as he put her down, running a hand over his wild and bushy hair. He nodded, watching her.

"Aye, me too. How're ye anyway?" He asked, smiling proudly down at her. She smiled, keeping the sadness and regret out of her eyes.

"I'm fine, pretty good actually." She answered, striving to sound truthful. He was too happy to notice the slight strain in her voice and he swelled with pride as he looked her up and down. She certainly looked different to how he remembered her. She almost looked like a younger version of McGonagall! Her hair was in a tight bun at the centre of the back of her head, slicked back with some sort of potion, not at all as bushy as he remembered, her robes were not in the least colourful, in fact, they were completely black, except for a small thin line of silver around her waist and at the edge of her wide sleeves, and her eyes were the only place Hagrid could read any emotion. Her smile no longer looked like a true smile; it looked more like a show trying to make it seem she was happy, when in fact she was being destroyed inside. Hagrid swallowed and tried to lighten his thoughts, for her sake at least. He knew she could read what he was thinking, even without Legilimens.

"Ye know, I'd swear you'd grown since the last time I saw ye." He chuckled. She laughed and nodded.

"It has been too long. I'm sorry I stayed away so long, and I'm sorry I didn't write as much as I should have done." She looked down at her feet, guilt twisting in her stomach. Hagrid lifted a hand and titled her chin up so she looked at him.

"Don't be sorry. I know why you didn't." He answered, cuffing her gently on the arm, letting go of her chin. She nodded and pulled on that fake smile again as she straightened her robes from his crushing hug and ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back. Hagrid watched her, his eyes sparkling as he watched the little girl that was as dear to him as a daughter that had become a woman so quickly, without him being there to see it.

"You're very different from that little sprite I knew ten years ago." He said almost sadly, meeting her eyes as she raised them to his in surprise. She nodded, sighing then perked up a little.

"That little sprite is now a teacher at Hogwarts." She said proudly, straightening her back and standing taller. Hagrid beamed at her.

"I know, Dumbledore told me a few days ago, as soon as he got yer letter he came right down to my hut and said "Hagrid, she's coming back." I was right pleased, still am 'Mione. I'm so proud of yer. And so would yer parents be, if they were here." A shadow passed over her face as he said it, and her whole face went stony. She stiffened and replied in a rush,

"I supposed they would. I've got to go and unpack; I'll see you at dinner Hagrid." She turned her back on him to disguise the tears in her eyes and pushed open the huge doors, to enter Hogwarts for the first time in four years. Hagrid turned away, not wanting to say something else to upset her, for it was clear he had. A sad smile lingered around his beard as he walked back to his hut, the sight cheering him. He knew she had been hurt, more than anyone should be, and he knew she hadn't come back sooner because it was still painful. He shook his head, his beard swaying in the light breeze. He shouldn't have mentioned her parents.

Hermione looked around the Entrance Hall, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes for a few seconds before she blinked them away hurriedly, leaving no trace they had ever been there. She couldn't be weak now. She pulled on a smile as she looked about her, then she looked up as she heard soft foot falls on the stairs. Dumbledore was watching her as he descended the stairs, and she wondered for a few seconds whether he had seen her moment of weakness, but quickly dismissed the thought.

She stepped forward and greeted him as he reached the last step, glowing with happiness that she truly felt, glad in the knowledge that some things never changed. He was just as she remembered him, if perhaps a little more lined around his face and hands. His eyes still sparkled with the familiar glow, his face still gave her the same comforted feeling, a safe feeling, his robes were still blue and welcoming, all the things about him making you feel everything was right with the world.

"Professor." She offered, stepping forward again, holding out her hand. He stepped forward and took it, shaking it heartily. The smile he gave her warmed her in a way she couldn't remember feeling for a long time.

"Hello Hermione. It's good to have you back." He smiled, his half-moon glasses twinkling in the sun light filtering through the glass windows behind her. Hermione nodded, pulling on her smile too as she answered,

"Good to be back." He nodded and dropped her hand, where she slipped hers into her pocket to be wiped off later. She hadn't had human contact for a while; it was something she assumed she must get used to. Dumbledore looked her in the eyes and asked,

"Is it?" She looked up warily, understanding the undertones in his voice, but not knowing what answer to give. Finally she settled for what sounded like an honest answer.

"All in all, yes it is." She replied, her smile faltering but it seemed to pass his test as he nodded and lead her up the Marble Stairs, pausing only to wave his hand at her suitcases which were congregating around the doors where the coachmen had left them. Hermione smiled as she saw them ascend the stairs ahead of them and float off in the direction she hoped was her room. She followed Dumbledore with a purpose in her step, her black, dragon-hide boots tapping the floor sharply as she swept up the stairs behind him, memories soaring inside her again.

The sound of thousands of feet pounding up these stairs after the first night's feast resounded in her head, mixed with the feeling of sadness that had swamped her as she had walked down these stairs for what she had thought would be that last time. Dumbledore heard her steps slow and turned to find her walking up the stairs with her eyes half closed and her hand trailing along the banister, and he knew she was savouring the feeling of bring back here, among people and things she knew and loved very dearly.

Her expression was one of utmost content and he smiled happily, finally assured in his decision she was supposed to be here with them. He had been apprehensive about asking her to come, considering her past and the memories which still must still haunt her and be very painful to encounter when her mind drifts, as it must do occasionally, but Minerva had persuaded him that here was the best place for her. And as always, Minerva was right. She had to stop wandering and where better to come than a place she knew so well? Where else would she be so well watched over, and cared for? All the staff had some kind of attachment to her, and they all cared about her, even Severus, though he did his best not to show it.

"Did you miss it here?" He asked her, watching her as she came to the top of the stairs and paused, still with that blissful look on her face. To him, it seemed that she was also lost in memories, and indeed he was right. She opened her eyes fully and answered with a sigh,

"Every day I was away." He nodded and tuned back, to lead her to the staff room. She caught up with him, her expression back to the impassive one that had become so typical of her recently. He noticed but didn't comment.

"Would you like to see the staff first, or would you prefer to see them at dinner?" He asked, pausing on another set of stairs. She shot him a look that said "You know very well" and answered with a voice laden with impatience,

"I would like to meet them now, if it's convenient." He grinned and continued to ascend to the next floor, now with her by his side.


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it, I wish I did but I don't. I just write stuff. Hope you don't mind JK but your books really are too brilliant not to write for. Thank you!

**A/N: **Read and Review as always, you people keep me running, thank you! I reply to as many as I can, if not all of them. You people are amazing.

PS This is intended as a MMADness and HermiRon fanfic, so I apologise if you don't like those pairings but those are the ones I believe in, but it's a fic all the same, so please, read and review! You can read the ships as you please, there's chemistry everywhere!

**Summary:** Hermione left Hogwarts and she got hurt. Now that she's back, will she get hurt again? Read to find out!

**She Goes Back Again**

Chapter 2: Meeting

Hermione took a deep breath as she waited for Dumbledore to open the door. She had never been inside here except with Professor Flitwick and then she had been much too nervous to look around, so this would be another new experience to add to her growing number today along with lying to Hagrid and Dumbledore. Dumbledore checked her face but it was carefully impassive, as always. She caught his eyes and nodded, straightening her back and holding her head up proudly, looking more like Minerva than she would have ever believed.

Albus nodded and opened the door, passing inside as quickly as he could, leaving Hermione to stride inside as she took a deep breath, her eyes darting around to pick out familiar faces. Dumbledore smiled round at his staff all gathered in that tiny room, knowing they had all come just to see her. She smiled nervously; looking round at some many people she knew and cared about. So many she had forgotten. Albus watched as a light danced in her eyes, a light he hadn't seen so far and turned to his colleagues to say proudly,

"I am very pleased to welcome Professor Granger to our teaching staff." Hermione drew a shaky breath and nodded.

"Hello." It sounded small, even to her ears, and she cursed herself for sounding weak. Minerva McGonagall stepped forward out of the crowd and smiled a warm welcome at her old student as she shook her hand.

"Welcome back Miss Granger. We've missed you." She said happily. Hermione smiled, then to her surprise as much as Minerva's, she hugged her, closing her eyes as that feeling of comfort Albus gave off swamped her, this time from Minerva.

"Thank you Professor. I've missed you too." She whispered, as she drew back, still smiling but with a touch of regret mixed with it now. Minerva laughed (much to everyone else's amazement) and shook her head.

"You're not a student any more Hermione. Minerva's fine." She replied in a light tone, squeezing Hermione's hand for a brief few seconds before letting go and stepping back towards Albus. Hermione's gaze slid past her to another familiar face.

"Professor." She greeted him as she inclined her head, while he rose from his chair and approached warily.

"Miss Granger." He nodded curtly, as he stopped a few paces in front of her. They regarded each other for a few seconds, both fighting the urge to laugh before she broke and, with a smile climbing her face, she held out her hand.

"I have missed your cutting remarks Severus." She admitted freely, as he shook her hand grudgingly.

"And I have missed your hand shooting up before I've even finished my question." He replied, shooting her a look that Hermione had to take as amused, at least, that was what she could faintly make out glittering in his dark eyes.

A few of the staff tittered quietly as they stood there, their hands still joined, each staring the other out, before Severus broke away and dropped her hand. She nodded briskly, a flash of triumph on her face as she turned away to Filius, her faithful old Charms teacher, now to be her joint colleague. Severus' gaze slid past her to Minerva standing next to Albus, watching her favourite student with a rare, small smile. He resisted the urge to curl his lip. He knew Minerva cared for Hermione more than she should, and he knew that for some reason, Albus did too.

He was genuinely confused as to why Minerva had taken such a liking to the swot he had never really got close to. She normally kept a fair distance from her students, ever since that one had betrayed her trust and sold her to Grindlewald all those years ago. Now he thought about it, he could almost see a likeness between them, almost as if they were… well, related. But that, of course, was out of the question. Minerva had never had any children; he knew that, despite being involved with the most loving man in the world, he had always assumed that it was because they thought of themselves as more grandparent material, but now…

Severus sighed inaudibly and hastened for the door, resolving to question the Headmaster about all this later. He took one last glance at Hermione, surrounded by all her friends and old teachers and smiled a tiny smile.

"Welcome home Hermione." He whispered as he slipped from the room. Minerva turned as she heard the whispered welcome, and smiled. He did really care, though he might not admit it. Looking up at Albus, she smiled and leant slightly into his embrace, into his welcoming warmth.

"I'm so glad she's home." She whispered to her husband, under her breath, watching as Hermione turned and grinned at the door, knowing instinctively who had gone. Albus looked down at his beautiful wife and bent down to give her light kiss on the top of her head, when no one was looking.

"I know my dear. She is home." He whispered back, wrapping a subtle arm around her. Hermione looked over at her old Professors and smiled, catching Minerva's eye and sharing a silent laugh with her. Albus couldn't help but let his eyes sparkle in response. He was surprised that no one had made the connection yet, they really were so alike it was absurd no one had realised yet, though he could tell that Severus was close. He knew the young man was concerned and would no doubt question him about it later and Albus couldn't decide whether to tell him or not.

People would find out eventually he knew, but for Severus to know before Hermione herself? Albus shook his head subtly, kissing Minerva lightly on the top of the head assuring her as much as himself. Maybe more would realise now, they were working side by side after all. Hermione greeted all the staff members with a smile and a shake of the hand, even Professor Tralawney who had "descended from her tower for a short while to mingle with the un-Seeing." Hermione rolled her eyes at this and looked over at Minerva, who told her with just a glance that Sybil had come down expressly to see her.

Minerva just stood back and watched her best student make herself part of them. There was no way she could leave now; she was part of the team, "part of the woodwork" as the saying goes. Minerva couldn't help but be proud of her. She smiled as she watched Hermione brighten quickly into more like the girl she remembered, not the nun she had at first not recognised. Albus knew what she was thinking and held her tighter, trying in some way to show his support, for he had felt the same when he had first seen her.

Hermione, unaware of the thoughts being sparked by her and her apparel, stepped back when she was sure she had shook every member of staff's hand and prepared herself to speak, but her speech wasn't to be voiced for she heard the door behind her open and as she turned, she saw two faces she could not have been more happy to see. She grinned, waited for them to both enter the room, then repeated her action from earlier, and threw herself on the first face with a delighted shout and a happy face.

"Harry!" He laughed and hugged her back, smiling broadly at the sight of Hermione in his arms, just like she had been in their second year. It was a welcome feeling, like she was back where she belonged.

"Hey 'Mione, it's good to see you." He stated happily, laughing into her ear, and she laughed back, hugging him more tightly before sliding back as she said happily too,

"Good to see you too." He grinned and she grinned back then turned to his companion. She straightened her face quickly and put her hands on her hips as she faced the one boy she had given a second chance to redeem himself and earn her trust.

"Don't throw yourself on me Granger; I might not be so obliging." Draco sneered at her, and she sniffed, then laughed.

"I wouldn't dare Draco." She replied in a voice she vainly tried to make serious but it was beyond her, holding out her hand. Draco shook it, the stoniness wearing off fast as he smiled.

"It's good to see you Granger." He mumbled as he dropped her hand, neither of them used to much human contact. She leant forward.

"What was that?" She asked loudly, putting a hand behind her ear mockingly, a grin climbing her face for the second time in as many minutes.

"I said it's good to see you Granger." Draco repeated a little louder, a small slight pinkness growing on his face as Hermione grinned triumphantly again and nodded.

"Good to know. What subject are you teaching?" She asked eagerly, knowing Harry was waiting to step in and question her. Draco grinned and answered,

"History of Magic, Professor Binns finally realised he was boring people literally to death. He was persuaded that it would be in the best interests of the students for him to retire and go haunt a nice classroom on the third floor. I heard he had some trouble with a young girl falling asleep in his class and them not being able to wake her for several hours afterwards." Hermione laughed and shook her head, swatting at him playfully. He half-smiled and nodded, continuing quietly,

"So, let me guess, since Harry's teaching DADA you must be teaching Charms, with Flitwick because he's getting a little tired in his old age. You always were good at Charms." Draco added in a mutter, running a hand through his hair in an awkward gesture. Hermione laughed and nodded, adjusting her sleeves and not meeting his eyes, trying to think of something else to say before Harry stepped in. Unfortunately, no spark of inspiration came to her and Harry stepped in as she knew he would.

"Well well Draco, embarrassed and jealous in the space of a few minutes, what is the matter? Ginny would be jealous if she knew." Harry joked, standing by Hermione and facing Draco, who glared at him and turned away to talk to Professor Sinestra who also looked as if she hadn't aged a day. Harry took Hermione's arm and led her away a few paces from everyone else's conversations to ask her in a low tone,

"How've you been?" His voice was filled with concern and she sighed, not wanting to go through all this again, especially not with him.

"I'm fine." She answered, striving to sound truthful and indeed, to her ears, it sounded so, but he wasn't fooled and he also noticed the change of tense in her answer. He shook his head, not taken in for a second by her little display.

"I know you're fine now, but what about before? Where have you disappeared to for this past year and more? I searched for you everywhere, I was so frightened for you 'Mione you could've died and I wouldn't have known." Harry reprimanded her sharply, all the more sharply because he meant what he said. He had been terrified for her. Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at him sceptically. Yes, she had disappeared for a few months but he could've found her if he had wanted to, there were plenty of signs and Albus managed to find her so it couldn't have been that hard.

"Harry, don't be melodramatic. There were plenty of signs as to where I was, if you'd only looked hard enough. I just needed some time, time you wouldn't have given me. I'm sorry, truly Harry, for worrying you but really, if Albus could find me then I'm sure you could." Harry looked taken-aback and she used that moment to tare her arm away from him and step backwards slowly, pleading with her eyes for him not to mention this anymore but he wasn't that easily swayed.

"Hermione, people care about you, you can't just up and take off when ever you feel like it without a word to anyone. When Ron heard you'd disappeared, he nearly went wild, he-" Harry saw at once he had said the wrong thing. Her whole face darkened, and she folded her arms over her chest defensively, looking deeply at him and willing herself not to hurt him more than needs be. He took a step forward and lifted his arms a little but she recoiled in disgust and he stilled, hurt beyond what she could tell. Hermione took a deep breath, and looking him straight in the eyes and lifting her head determinedly, she told him in a calm yet forbidding tone,

"I don't care how much he suffered, maybe he had a vague idea of how much I suffered from what he did then, but as for taking off when I feel like it, I did not do such a thing. I did tell one person where I was going, and I told that person because I trusted them not to follow me. Harry, I know that you care, I know that. But I needed time, just by myself to sort things out and to find a way to deal with what has happened, and possibly what will happen. I could not have done that with you there. Now, if you'll excuse me."

She broke off and slid away from him over to Minerva to excuse herself, then out of the door, still with a calm, collected countenance. Harry knew better than to think that he had not upset her, only that she was unwilling to seem weak in front of so many people, especially her idol. He groaned and scratched the back of his neck as he had taken to doing when he was agitated. Draco noticed the sign with a watchful eye and excused himself from his conversation to ask how it went. He knew Harry had been planning on asking her where she had gone and from what he had seen, it had not gone well.

Harry looked up and smiled wearily at Draco before going over to one of the squashy armchairs and flopping down in it, followed by Draco in a seat opposite. Draco waited for Harry to tell him what had happened with a patience he still found remarkable in himself. Somehow, over the years, he and Harry had become almost like brothers, they talked about everything, especially now Harry had drifted away from Ron, though he maintained it was the other way round. Draco knew Harry couldn't forgive Ron for what he had done to Hermione; he just wasn't as vocal about his feelings as Hermione had been at the time.

"Draco, what am I going to do about her? She won't talk to me. How can I help her if she won't talk to me?" Harry asked softly, resting his face in his hands, tiredness overcoming his features. Draco raised his eyebrows and rested his chin on his hand, which was supported by the arm rest.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't try yet." Draco answered thoughtfully, looking at the old faded carpet on the floor. Harry looked up in an almost horrified way. Draco looked up and laughed.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Well, you just basically said leave her to rot. You know I can't, she's one of my best friends. I have to help her, especially when she can't help herself." Draco shook his head, sighing.

"That's not what I meant. I think perhaps that you should leave her for a little while, treat her normally and be her friend, and when she's ready, she'll ask for help. Until then, she won't accept help from anyone, least of all you, and she won't thank you for trying to force her." Draco told him, looking up and answering in an even tone. Harry glanced at him, then rested his forehead in his hand to think it over. Perhaps Draco was right. Perhaps backing off a little would be best, for a little while anyway. He humphed a bit then leant back in his chair and nodded to Draco.

"Maybe you're right. But then, what if what happened in seventh year repeats itself? What if she keeps it all in until she can't take it anymore and she blows again? This time, she may actually bring the school down if that happens." Harry said agitatedly. Draco frowned and took his head away from his hand. Harry looked up and an expression of realisation filled his face.

"Oh yeah, sorry, you didn't know about that did you? You weren't in our Transfiguration class that day were you? Sorry, I'll explain." Harry folded his legs and scratched his neck again before he began.


	3. Chapter 3: The Past

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it, I wish I did but I don't. I just write stuff. Hope you don't mind JK but your books really are too brilliant not to write for. Thank you!

**A/N: **Read and Review as always, you people keep me running, thank you!

PS This is intended as a MMADness, HermiRon and maybe a little bit of Draco and Ginny fanfic (we'll see), so sorry if you don't like those pairings but those are the ones I believe in, but it's a fic all the same, so please, read and review!

**PPS This chapter is mainly flashbacks so that we finally find out why Hermione is like she is so I'm sorry and I promise the next chapter will be much better, (I've temporarily changed the italics around, I got fed up of looking at wonky letters) but we need to keep the history straight, after all, "Those who cannot remember history are doomed to repeat it."-Santayana (I got that off my History teacher, you rock Miss Watson!)**

**Summary:** Hermione left Hogwarts and she got hurt. Now that she's back, will she get hurt again? Read to find out!

**She Goes Back Again**

Chapter 3: The Past

"_Maybe you're right. But then, what if what happened in seventh year repeats itself? What if she keeps it all in until she can't take it anymore and she blows again? This time, she may actually bring the school down if that happens." Harry said agitatedly. Draco frowned and took his head away from his hand. Harry looked up and an expression of realisation filled his face._

"_Oh yeah, sorry, you didn't know about that did you? You weren't in our Transfiguration class that day, I remember now. Sorry, I'll explain." Harry folded his legs and scratched his neck again before he started. Draco recognised the story-telling pose and settled himself in for a long haul of listening. He hoped it would be worth his while; his neck always ached if he stayed in the same place for too long, probably down to that stupid ferret incident in his fifth year. His eyes snapped onto Harry's face and the attention of a few others staff members was caught as well as Harry began his tale. It looked like Draco wouldn't be the only one to hear this for the first time. The whole thing had been hushed up right from the very beginning…_

"_It was in our seventh year, Voldemort" Draco winced, as did a few others, but Harry ignored him and continued "was still at large and more and more people were dieing, but we never thought he would target Muggles. He never had much interest in them. But, as usual, he did precisely what we didn't expect: He did attack two muggles. No guesses who..." _

Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table just like every other morning. However, this morning was one they would not forget in a hurry. As the mail arrived and everyone looked up to see if there was anything for them, Ron saw a sight that made his heart sink. There was a large tawny owl flying their way, with a black letter held in its beak. Ron nudged Harry and pointed, not thinking for a minute it was for anyone else but him or Harry as the owl was still heading their way. Hermione looked up as Harry shivered and twisted her head to see what they were looking at, hoping it wasn't what her friends' expressions said it was. Minerva nudged Albus and nodded her head at the owl as well, and his expression darkened just as hers had.

The owl, a Ministry tawny by the look of it, flew gracefully over to the three, by now attracting the attention of practically the whole Hall, and swooped down to land softly by Hermione, pointing its beak and the letter her way. She frowned and took the letter, trying to control the slight shaking in her hands, hoping it must have got the wrong person. But no, it was her name on the envelope. Ron leaned across the table and placed a hand on hers to show his support, in the only way he could think of, as she broke the blood red Ministry seal on the back. Everyone held their breath, knowing exactly what that letter would say. The black envelope said everything: Someone was dead. Voldemort and his followers had struck again.

With the slightly shaking hand that was now beyond her control, she slid out the paper from inside and unfolded it, knowing all the eyes in the Hall were on her. She considered taking the letter with her outside but no doubt someone would follow her, probably more than one if she knew the gossips in this school. No, she would have to read it here. She let her eyes rake the lines of writing and her heart clenched. Harry watched her face as all the colour drained from it and she closed her eyes, her jaw stiffened and she bowed her head. Ron took the letter from her gently and read it for himself, swallowing before passing it to Harry and trying to take Hermione's hand but she tore herself away from him and fled the Hall, not allowing the tears to leave her eyes.

Harry looked over at Ron, who looked horribly shocked, and then up at the staff table, where Professor McGonagall shook her head at him as he caught her eye. She knew he wanted to go after her but she also knew Hermione wouldn't want him there right now, nor anyone else. Not even her favourite professor. Harry dropped his eyes from his Head of House and scanned the letter. It was about her parents, as he had expected. The Dark Mark had been found floating over their house last night. The Ministry offered their condolences but Harry rather felt like tearing that particular part of the letter off, he knew who ever had written this letter had not even known Hermione, or her parents.

Harry stirred himself, feeling eyes resting heavily on him, and slid the letter into his pocket to give back to Hermione later. He wasn't about to leave it here where just anyone could pick it up. Then he looked up at Ron and pointed his head at the door, saying with no words passing his lips "lets go and get our stuff, I need to get out of here." All it needed was a look and Ron understood, picking himself up from the bench, unwilling himself to stay here any longer either. He could feel many pairs of eyes still on him, and he knew that was part of the reason Hermione had left. He hope she was alright, he had never seen her so upset, though it might've seemed like she hadn't reacted to some, he could sense how sad and angry she was at the same time.

He and Harry left the Hall quickly and headed up to Gryffindor Tower, looking anxiously for any sign of Hermione, but they didn't see her, and they assumed she'd gone outside to be by herself. They were right; she had, all the way down to the lake. She couldn't believe it, didn't **want** to believe it but the words from the letter was burnt into her vision and she didn't see any way it couldn't be true. She didn't know how long she stood there, gazing out across the steel coloured lake with a vacant expression before she realised she had classes to go to and books to collect. It didn't occur to her no one expected her to be there.

It was another five minutes before she actually moved and she found that her legs had gone very stiff from standing in the wind so long, but she forced herself to walk quickly, up to the castle, inside the doors, up the Marble Stairs, and into Gryffindor Tower, almost in a dream-like state so she did not feel the pain she had forced her legs to endure. She didn't notice or didn't want to notice the sympathetic looks she received, or the pitying eyes. They were the two things she never wanted: Sympathy and Pity. They were small, useless feelings. Understanding was good, when in the right place, but never pity.

She collected her books and headed to her first class, which was unluckily, or perhaps luckily for her, a class she did not share with Harry and Ron: Ancient Runes. She normally sat by herself, partly by choice and partly because no one wanted to sit next to her and look stupid as she answered every question perfectly. But today, everyone wanted to sit near her, everyone wanted to try and help, well, not help, they all wanted to know details. Luckily her teacher, who was a fair, happy, good-natured creature, came over and shooed them all away before giving her a strengthening smile and going on with the lesson as normal.

She was grateful he hadn't offered any words of comfort. This was what she needed: stability and normalcy. And there was something comforting about the logicalness of Ancient Runes, everything had an explanation and everything was done in patterns. She worked happily for an hour, content with her work, though she wasn't using magic. Then, the real disaster came. Hermione had been dreading Transfiguration, which was very unusual for her because she loved it but Harry and Ron were both in that lesson and they would no doubt want to talk to her. She felt so awkward because she did not know how to tell them she did not want to talk to them.

She entered the classroom quietly, among the buzz of her classmates, and slid into her normal seat as far forward as possible. Professor McGonagall fixed her with a look that told her if she needed anything, she just had to ask, but that was all. Hermione nodded and opened her workbook, pride and gratefulness rising inside her that her Professor knew her well enough not to have to say anything. Yes, Professor Garnet had not said anything either but she suspected that was because he didn't know what to say. McGonagall did, but could say it with a look and that thought gave her comfort.

Harry and Ron soon entered behind her and slid into seats either of her, chatting about last lesson in a friendly way, hoping to get her talking, knowing not to start conversation about the letter just yet. Hermione remained looking at her book, copying some notes down as extra. Minerva caught the pleading look Hermione shot her, from where she was bent over her desk, to start the lesson and she obliged, clearing her throat and silencing the chatter immediately. She knew Hermione wouldn't want to talk about it yet but whether Mr Potter and Mr Weasley knew that was a different matter. Hermione straightened gratefully, and set herself to listening mode as McGonagall began to explain a new line of Transfiguration they would be trying today.

They had about twenty minutes of the lesson left and Harry was beginning to worry. Hermione had not succeeded in doing anything concerning practical magic throughout the entire lesson! Her magic seemed to have completely shut off and it was frustrating her greatly. He was trying not to look at her as she went through the movement again, muttering the incantation and growling when nothing happened. Then, he was suddenly aware of a cracking sound and looked up from his work to see his ink bottle about to explode. He ducked behind his desk at the last minute and winced as shards of glass went everywhere, including one hitting Hermione and one hitting Ron.

Ron swore in a low voice, knowing McGonagall was very sharp of hearing and leaned around Hermione to shoot a glare at Harry. Harry shook his head to say it wasn't him, then pointed warningly at Ron's bottle that was cracking ominously. Ron ducked just in time. This time, the glass literally went everywhere and caused McGonagall to look up from where she was trying to reverse Neville's most recent accident, with varying success. Harry looked back and shook his head to say it wasn't him and McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the space to the left of him. Where Hermione was sat.

Harry looked across and drew his breath in sharply when he saw Hermione. She looked utterly wild! He'd never seen her look like that, not in all the time he'd known her. She'd always been so organised, but now she didn't look like the same person even! Her hair was coming out of her strict ponytail and starting to crackle with the energy she was emitting, her eyes were a wide as Galleons and her knuckles were white on her wand while her other hand was clenched so tightly her nails were drawing blood, but she hadn't noticed.

She just sat there, as if completely unaware, repeating the movements and the incantation. Though her magic wasn't working on the object in front of her, it was certainly having an effect on herself and her surroundings. Harry reached out tentatively and touched her right arm but he got such a shock his hand was thrown back and started to quiver and wouldn't stay still for a week afterwards. Hermione flinched and her eyes turned to him, followed by her head.

Harry's thought at the time was "If looks could kill, then I'd be dieing in the most excruciating pain imaginable right now!" She gave him a glare that could definitely rival McGonagall at her most furious. Harry withdrew from her unconsciously; this was no longer the girl he knew. Her eyes were glowing with a green, eerie light that wouldn't have been out of place at a Halloween party but was certainly not normal for her, but then, none of this was. Ron was watching her on her other side, wondering what to do and asking Harry for advice with his eyes but he froze, as did Harry, when she spoke.

"Don't touch me." She said in a sharp whisper, her face contorted so her jaw looked like it was locked in place and Harry heard himself say something about her not being well and perhaps suggesting a visit to Madame Pomfrey (privately thinking she needed something much stronger) but all Hermione did was snort in a dervish way and the scorn that twisted her face was evident in her reply, as well as the disgust glittering in her eyes that Harry wouldn't have found out of place in Snape.

"What can she do?" She hissed in a venomous voice worthy of a Basilisk, and Harry jerked backwards again, feeling almost as if her voice had slapped him. Never had she ever shown that much contempt for anyone he knew (except perhaps Malfoy) let alone of a member of staff! Her voice had carried and was loud enough for McGonagall to hear and become concerned enough to approach quickly form the other end of the room, her sharp eyes darting from Harry, to Hermione, to Ron and then back to the girl sat between them.

"Hermione, are you feeling quite yourself?" She asked in a concerned tone, her left eyebrow raised, and Harry registered in some small part of his mind that if it had been him sitting there, blowing things up, she would've hauled him out already, but not Hermione. The girl just looked up at her professor, then stood up herself sharply, her chin jutting out and an arrogant look on her face, the likes of which Harry or Ron had never seen on her before. She said in quite a calm tone, considering the air around her was fizzing,

"I am quite well ma'am but I would appreciate it if you kept to your own business and out of mine." Her voice became irritated on the last few words, and Harry gasped again, this time at the cheek of that answer, and knew this was definitely not good. He watched McGonagall's lips go very very thin, so they could almost not been seen so he tried to pull Hermione back into her seat and he could see Ron trying to do the same thing but they were both flung back into the desks behind them by a large electric shock that came from their friend.

Harry watched, after he had raised his head from his chest, as McGonagall's eyes flicked from Hermione to him to Ron, and he knew she was trying to think of the best way to deal with this situation but he didn't think Hermione would give her that time. She was beginning to quiver. Minerva tried to coax her out of her seat, promising her help and time if she would just come out from behind her desk but it just seemed to enrage her more, and eventually, she ended up ordering her out, but still she would not go. Harry could feel the energy around her building up slowly, with each attempt McGonagall made to try and move her.

Harry wondered whether the professor could tell and as he drew his eyes away from Hermione to look at the older woman, he could tell she knew and was beginning to be desperate. Hermione's gaze never left hers as Minerva tried everything she could and eventually, she gave up trying to be civil. Harry could have told her the second she pulled out her wand she shouldn't have done it. It was as if that was what Hermione had been waiting for. The field of energy and magic surrounding her had been like a damn, trying to keep all her magic held inside.

Now that damn was burst.

The magic flowed out from her freely and Harry had never felt so exhilarated and so crushed at the same time. Minerva was flung back into her desk while the rest of the class were thrown off their chairs and onto the floor so that many bodies rolled into one another. Harry fought to look up as Hermione hovered up from her seat and he covered his ears as he saw her mouth open, knowing her voice would magnified beyond anything a human's ear was supposed to hear. Others were not so quick and their ear drums suffered for it.

"I won't be controlled any longer! We deserve to make our own choices about our lives! I won't be controlled! I WON'T BE CONTROLLED!" Minerva was, for the first time in her whole career, frightened of her charge. This wasn't the girl she knew, this was an out-of-control maniac and she had to stop her before she brought the whole castle down on top of them. But that wouldn't be as easy as she hoped. Hermione raised her hands and closed her eyes, allowing the power inside of her free reign on anything that came to hand, be it portraits, classroom objects, desks, or even people. Her magic completely took over.

Violent flashes of electricity and thunder erupted from her and went spinning across the rooms, smashing everything in sight. Several glass globes exploded, and a few desks hovered a few feet above the ground like her before going crashing back down to earth. Harry shivered as carnage reigned around him, and a few desk pieces hit him but he looked up all the same, squeezing his eyes almost shut so he could peer at Hermione and past her at McGonagall, who was looking shakily up at the girl with a half terrified, half shocked expression and Harry knew he had to do something.

Without thinking, him picked himself up and flung his entire weight at Hermione, bringing them both crashing down to the floor just like the desks before them. The wind that had been racing around the classroom dropped dramatically, but the power emanating from the girl underneath him did not stop. He struggled to keep her hands under him so she could not get anything to bring down on top of them, but his strength was wearing thin and the adrenaline pumping through him could only do so much. McGonagall had succeeded in pulling herself upright and had approached as quickly as she could, casting innumerable freezing charms that all seemed completely useless against Hermione's new power.

Eventually, Minerva just threw out the most powerful freezing charm she knew, and that stilled Hermione for a few minutes, allowing Harry to climb off her and nurse his aching muscles while checking the class for any serious injuries, but none could he find, thank heaven. Ron crawled over to look down at her pleadingly, his whole face twisted with a desire to see her back with them. She seemed to look back up at him and come back slightly to who she was. Emotion began to flicker in her eyes again and she slowed her struggles. Ron's eyes seem to capture her wavering personality and bring it back from the chasm it seemed to have fallen into.

McGonagall bent down and undid the charm, waving Harry back with her hand. Hermione recoiled from her touch and stood unassisted, not looking at anyone, the air around her still fizzing slightly. Ron reached out tentatively and took her arm, taking some of her weight but she shoved him away, still not looking up. Minerva could sense her pupil's confusion and embarrassment and decided this had gone on long enough. She didn't want anyone to be present for this next talk she would have with her star student. She swallowed to clear her throat then, pushing Hermione behind her so she was blocking any gazes the students passed to her, called in a clear voice that brooked no opposition,

"Class dismissed. Anyone who thinks they need help, go to the hospital wing. Go!" And the class left, trailing out casting hopeful glances at the parts of Hermione they could see, and her friends. Harry didn't move, and neither did Ron, waiting for some kind of sign about whether they were needed. Minerva looked round from where she had been sharing a glance with the young woman now in her care and softened her tone slightly before adding,

"That includes you Mr Potter and you Mr Weasley. Go." Harry nodded, shooting her and Hermione a concerned glance before collecting his bag (that might have been missing a few things but he dared not retrieve them now) and waiting as Ron gathered up his things that were in reach and exiting the classroom with his best friend, leaving the other with his professor.

**A/N 2: **Well, what do ya think? Please please please R&R, I long to know what you think. Was it bad, good, awful? Should I just give up? Should I continue? Was it any good? Please press that little purple button in the corner there, please. I'm sorry about all the flashbacks, I promise, the next chapter is better!


	4. Chapter 4: Discussion

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it, wish I did, but I don't. Just the plot!

**A/N:** Welcome back people! Was it really May when I last posted? I am so dreadfully sorry for taking so long to post this but I'm going to great lengths to finally post this, (I will have some major debts to pay after this) so I'm going to be waiting for those reviews! I would be so grateful and I really wanna see some serious review numbers ok? Again, sorry it's so overdue. It may be a while before the next chapter goes up as well, I am sorry, but blame my stupid teachers and not me. Damn to the depths whatever idiot thought of the idea of coursework!

PS The italics are back the right way round, so this entire chapter is set in the present, where we all belong.

**Summary: **They left Hogwarts and she got hurt. Now that they're back will she get hurt again?

**She Goes Back Again**

Chapter Four: Discussion

Harry, who had got up and begun pacing while telling his tale had ended up walking in circles in front of his old professors Minerva, and Albus, and they were watching him like hawks in case he said something that was not for the rest of the staff to know, as it seemed everyone else had ended up listening. Draco had remained where he was in the chair, and listened carefully, with his chin in his hand again. When Harry reached the part about Hermione calming down slightly, Minerva had grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop facing them, meeting Harry's eyes as he lifted them, and hers held a slight warning they met his. He nodded subtly, knowing she meant not to be extravagant with the details, if he knew them, of the discussion his friend had shared with her, and he continued.

"I know, Minerva, that you talked to her when we left but she never told me or Ron what you talked about and after that, she just closed up. She wouldn't talk about anything except what was absolutely necessary to either the war, or to school, to begin with. I mean, she did still joke occasionally, and after a while she seemed to loosen up a little but she was never quite the same. She just seemed to become more reserved, more like you. She barely went near anyone else, not even Ron, though I will admit she seemed happier around him" Harry finished, beginning to draw his story to a close then remembering something that he was sure Dumbledore and McGonagall would prefer to know.

"You know the weekend before we left in seventh year?" He said addressing Minerva, and then Albus as he found his professor's eyes were on him. Minerva nodded to signal Harry to continue, hoping he hadn't noticed Albus was stood rather closer than was considered normal and had his arm very subtly around his wife, though Harry didn't know that. "Well, I don't think you knew this Minerva or you Albus, but the hug she gave you that weekend was the first time she had chosen to touch someone apart from Ron for months! And I bet you didn't know she hadn't cried since the 'Black Letter' day either. Even when we won the war, she didn't cry."

Harry had looked up when addressing his old Professor, and when revealing the intimate parting the two women had experienced, had noticed the distinct pink tinge to Minerva's cheeks. Harry felt guilty for not thinking of Minerva's feelings in this part of the re-telling but was glad for a reason to direct the room's attention at someone else. He didn't like it, but somehow the whole staff room had ended up listening to his story, and though he knew they had to know, or at least have a vague an idea of what not to mention to her (especially if they weren't that good with shield charms) he still wasn't comfortable with spilling Hermione's secrets in front of the whole staff. Though by the look on Minerva's face, he had just managed to spill one of _hers_!

"Oh, sorry. Ron told me. I didn't think…" Harry trailed off, shooting a look at Draco who rolled his eyes. In his opinion, Harry was right to have said it, it was an essential point. Minerva caught the look and wasn't surprised; she knew there had to be a bit of the old Slytherin left in him. Severus would have been proud. Minerva held back a small smile and answered Harry's look rather than Draco's, after all Albus had told her to be nice. He had done good things, many good things, once he had decided what side he was on.

"Don't apologise, you're just trying to explain and make your point, that's fair enough. I just don't generally tell people about that kind of thing. And I did know." Minerva cut in, flushing a little but smiling as well at her old student, hoping to smooth over his awkwardness and her own embarrassment. She noticed Harry looked a bit taken-aback but nodded and smiled apologetically in return. Albus held back a smile as he saw Harry still was concerned about everyone but himself. He knew Harry would've taken back what he had said, if he could.

"Ron wouldn't have told me if he didn't think it was important. We had often wondered secretly if we shouldn't have said something to you about what had happened to her, though I couldn't shake the feeling you knew more about it than we did. Somehow, she and you seemed to understand each other a lot more. And we were right weren't we? Not to tell you, I mean." Harry finished, glancing over at Minerva with a concerned face. The transfiguration professor nodded, then braced herself for the angry glances she knew would follow her next reply.

"Yes, I do believe I knew more than you in this case, but it was probably better that way. Hermione and I shared a discussion that was very important and very personal to both of us, so we never spoke of it to anyone except ourselves, and I will admit it freely now, I advised her not to tell you because I thought perhaps you would have a difficult time in understanding." She held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth in protest. She felt the arm around her stiffen a little and there was more than one pair of shocked, and somewhat disapproving glances aimed in Minerva's direction, one of them being her husband's, but she shook them off.

"I did what I thought was best for one of my students. I would have done the same for anyone, if that was what they needed." Minerva declared, raising her head a little, and glaring at the eyes who were staring at her. Only Albus kept eye contact, and she sighed, knowing she would have to tell him soon what that discussion had been about despite her own misgivings and the fact she knew Hermione would not want her to. The only reason he had not questioned her about it before was that he thought he had known the extent to which Hermione had confided in her. Harry saw the glance that passed between the Headmaster and his Deputy and hastened to move the conversation on, wishing there were not so many people listening to them.

"It doesn't matter now, she did get better, and that's what matters." Harry said, and gave Dumbledore a "Talk it out later" look. Albus took the hint and saved his questions for a more appropriate time. Minerva paid no attention to this, having remembered the next part of her student's story and a deep sadness filling her heart. She dropped her eyes, and Albus noticed the emotion that had seeped into them and knew what she was thinking. It was then he realised he didn't care how much she had talked to Hermione; he knew she had thought she was justified and most likely, had done everything with good cause. But he would have to speak to her about it, despite that.

"She didn't stay better for long though did she? Damn Ron and that stupid blonde!" She muttered, her teeth grinding at the very thought of it, her hands curling into fists of fury. Albus shook his head gently, and slid his long fingers over hers, easing them gently out and giving her a comforting look. She flicked him a glance but still gave an angry sigh. Harry sighed too, lowering his head and nodding. Even Draco had the decency to look regretful. He had been as shocked as anybody when he had found out. It was this moment that Filius chose to step in and made them aware they were still being watched.

"Well, it wasn't all Ron was it? From what I've heard, it was the baby that started the downward spiral, and besides, there might be circumstances that we don't know about, I mean, the Prophet isn't the most reliable source, you know that!" He squeaked, coming over as quickly as his little legs would carry him, coming to Ron's defence for reasons Minerva didn't understand. Harry, for the first time in his life, glared at a teacher straight in the eye. The look was a fierce one, one Draco recognised form their early years at Hogwarts, and Flitwick veritably quailed his stare. Minerva felt a small flash of pride at the young man's courage to face his old professor with such a look.

"Don't you think we know that? What we know, we know from Hermione, and from Ron himself. It was betrayal, and for once, the Prophet did get it right. He did have an affair," by this time, Harry was spitting out the words and his eyes were darkening considerably "and when Hermione found out he didn't even try to deny it! It makes me sick just to think of it. I still don't know how he could do it! Especially after such a short time from loosing their baby!" Harry said, his expression twisted in disgust and perhaps just a hint of hatred, though Draco was sure it was not for Ron. He had turned away from Flitwick after saying it made him sick, and was looking at space. Minerva nodded, and gripped Albus' hand tightly as she added quietly, her voice quivering ever so slightly,

"I ask myself that every day. How could he?" Filius looked shocked in between the members of little group and stood stock still before bowing his head and backing away quickly, a disappointed look on his face. Minerva spared him a curious glance before turning to Harry and meeting his eyes, her look clearly saying 'Well done'. Such an open look of congratulations made Harry feel a little better, but only a little.

"Funny as it may seem Minerva, I didn't feel like I just lost Hermione when she disappeared. I lost Ron as well. I lost any kind of semblance of trust I had in him. We haven't spoken in months." He admitted, confirming Draco's suspicions. "I've been travelling and he's been at the Ministry, or at least, that's the excuse. I'm not sure I'd want to see him honestly." Harry said quietly, breaking eye contact and staring at the ground. Minerva felt her heart swell with more pride and compassion at how mature this boy had become, and placed a gentle hand on his arm, reassuring and sympathetic. She knew what he meant. Ron had been in her house, was one of her charges, and his behaviour had made him more Slytherin to her than Draco would ever be. Minerva sighed, and turned to address the all the staff, sliding away from Albus' arm so it would not look too obvious. She knew some of them had guessed, but she didn't want to make it easy!

"We mustn't mention any of this to Hermione, ever if possible. Surely you can understand why it is so painful, and she doesn't need to be reminded of it any more than she is already." They all nodded, all of their expressions varying from sad to curious, except Sybil of course, who was staring dreamily into space, then suddenly looked up and nodded, her face as serious as the transfiguration master had ever seen it, a fact she registered with some surprised and a raised eyebrow which Albus took careful note of.

"Yes Deputy Headmistress, we must be indeed very careful around this young woman. She is troubled by demons," 'Oh, how observant of you' Minerva thought sarcastically "and if I'm not mistaken" 'And you usually are' Minerva thought tiredly, "she may be with us for may years, but it will depend on us and the weeks leading up to Christmas that will decide whether they are happy or merely duty to be filled." Albus looked almost interested in this, and began to stroke his beard while Harry, who agreed with Minerva on the subject of Divination, rolled his eyes and went back over to Draco, who was still sitting in his chair being very observant and listening carefully. Minerva turned to Albus and locked eyes with him. Each knew what the other was thinking, and they nodded.

"We have to tell her." They both said together, and Minerva laughed a little. "We have to stop doing that." Albus laughed too, a bit more heartily than his wife, and nodded again. Then Minerva sighed and slid her hand back into Albus', not caring if someone was watching. "She needs someone to hold onto," Minerva continued "and I want to help her so badly. She needs us Albus, however much she may say she does not. She's loosing her faith in humanity, and falling deeper into her emotions, not caring for the world around her." She whispered, looking down at their hands. Albus tried to look hopeful.

"Well then I can't think of any two people better for trying to help her. I am THE faith in humanity, and you can communicate with her no matter how deep she falls, I've seen you do it. We will pull her out of this, and she'll get back up and live again. You know she will, she's a fighter, just like her mother." Albus winked, and Minerva nodded, feeling confidant than she had been and pulling on a grateful smile to give her husband. It seemed so easy for him to say that right thing and he always made her feel so much better. She was lucky to have him.

Harry, who had not been following the discussion between the older professors, had been making sure Draco had heard every word of the previous discussion before putting forward his own suspicions: that Hermione was truly in need of help. He was in the middle of explaining a plan he had to try and get her to remember the good times when Draco's eyebrows shot up and it was only when Harry noticed this that he saw Draco's eyes were not on him. Harry frowned out of annoyance. It was a habit of Draco's to listen and at the same time, be paying attention to about three different things, something Harry had never been able to do. Harry defended his plan, thinking perhaps that was what Draco was raising his eyebrows at.

"It wasn't that bad! I only want to-"

"No, that wasn't it. I was watching the Headmaster while you were talking, and he just said something rather interesting." Draco replied, a smirk curling his lips, and a crafty glint shone in his eye. He loved the talent he had of begin able to listen to several different things; a talent he knew would come in handy as a teacher. His training had done much to improve the technique and it was something he had tried to teach Harry, with very little success. Harry's frown deepened and he breathed through his nose heavily.

"What did he say?" He asked, giving in though his expression wavered between disapproval of listening into conversations and his eagerness to know more. Draco grinned and answered carefully, in a low voice, still keeping his eyes on the older couple,

"He said Hermione was a fighter, just like her mother. Then he winked at Minerva." When Harry made no answer, Draco glanced at him and seeing the blank expression there, explained quietly, "Either Albus knew Hermione's muggle mother, or he knows her real mother." Harry looked over at his Headmaster, and tipped his head, trying to decide. Draco sighed, as if he came across stupidity all the time and said carefully, "It's hardly likely that Albus knew Hermione's muggle mother. He doesn't meet parents as a rule, except yours." Draco said, and Harry nodded, his expression still quizzical. "So that must mean that Hermione had another set of parents, biological parents. Just think of it! She might be pureblood! And, judging by the way Albus is looking at Minerva, I'd say _they_ were her parents." Draco added in a low voice, laughing at the absurdity of that idea but Harry's mind suddenly clicked.

"Of course! That's why! Draco, you're a genius (never thought I'd say that) but you are right! That's why Hermione is so like Minerva, _she's her daughter!_" Harry said in a low voice, but Draco heard as Harry leant forward eagerly. It just didn't seem plausible, that Dumbledore and McGonagall would work at the same school if they were involved. It surely wouldn't be allowed? And it especially wouldn't be allowed that they would teach their own daughter. Ridiculous! The governors would never allow it. Draco frowned.

"Don't you think you're going a bit fast? I was joking! I mean, we don't even know if they are 'together' or anything. In fact, I don't want to know!" Malfoy shuddered. Harry rolled his eyes, getting that gut feeling that told him he was right, and the stubborn gleam in his eye told Draco this was not an argument he would win. Sighing, he held out his hands and said quickly, still in low tones, hoping Minerva's incredible hearing powers were not working at the moment,

"Alright, let's suppose for the sake of keeping this civilised, that you're right. Don't you think Hermione would have told you?"

"What if Hermione doesn't know? What if they never told her?" Harry returned, getting more excited by the minute.

"Why wouldn't they?" Draco asked, trying to bring some order to what he thought was madness. Harry sighed and leant his arms on his legs, as if he was explaining something a four year old should understand, and leaning towards Draco, so he looked like he was examining the carpet between his knees when in fact he was trying to stop Minerva from realising how excited he was. Fortunately, her attention seemed taken up with the Headmaster.

"There are innumerable reasons that could apply. I know I'm right." Harry said, looking up at Draco with his eyes shining. The old Slytherin sighed as well, and nodded.

"You could be. That's all I'm saying." Harry took this as a triumph, and leant back into the armchair, moving his arms to rest on the chair's, his expression satisfied. Draco massaged his forehead, and then looked up at his friend. His look was piercing, and Harry, who had been watching McGonagall and Dumbledore, turned his head to return it.

"What are you going to do now?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry lowered his eyes, and hunched his shoulders up, slouching back into the chair and frowning as his eyes, without his consent, flicked over to his old Headmaster and his Deputy. They seemed happy, yet at the same time, worried, and Harry knew it was over Hermione the emotions centred. His stomach twisted guiltily, and he stared at his knees, considering what he was about to say before raising his eyes again to Draco, and he drew a long breath before he replied solemnly,

"I will let them decide. If she does not know by the end of the year, I shall have something to say on the matter, but for now let them deal with it. I shall have enough trouble trying to help Hermione without bringing their issues into it as well. No, I shall not tell them I know." He answered Draco's surprised look and opening of his mouth, and his companion sighed with relief. They both knew this was not the affair to get muddled in. This year was going to be complicated enough, with new classes and new students, without trying to manage news which they shouldn't even know in the first place. Besides, as Draco had pointed out, he only _might_ be right. Harry bit his lip, and then pushed himself out of his chair, before muttering something about packing to Draco and exiting the buzzing staffroom.


	5. Chapter 5: Consideration

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it, wish I did, but I don't. Just the plot!!

**A/N:** First of all, I have some serious apologising to do. I am SO SORRY! I can't believe it has taken me this long to type up the next chapter!! It's just getting ridiculous. I really should be revising I suppose, but I love this story much too much to revise. Congrats to those people who are still following me, and I can't thank you enough for any review I still get, because I always welcome new opinions and new views. Anything! R&R I beg you! Right, enough of me rambling, on with the story! (At last, I hear you all cry!)

**Summary:** They left Hogwarts and she got hurt. Now that they're back will she get hurt again?

**She Goes Back Again**

Chapter Five: Consideration

Hermione put a shaking hand on the door to her chambers, trying to catch her breath after thundering up the stairs to her rooms which Minerva had briefly told her the location of before she'd made her hurried exit. Why did Harry have to pry? She was _fine_, she had dealt with everything a long time ago, why did he have to go dredging it all back up again? Those emotions had been removed a long time ago. She closed her eyes briefly, before straightening her shoulders and slowly turning the handle to push the door open and stepping swiftly inside her rooms, putting it all from her mind before she got too worked up, as she was like to do when reminded of her past.

She managed to smile as she looked around what was to be her home for the next year and quite possibly many years after that, if all went well. She could tell at once who had decorated these rooms. There could be no other couples with such different tastes. Albus and Minerva. There was such a clash of practicality and extravagance, comfort and severity, everything that one person signified colliding with the other. She was glad, however, that Minerva had let Albus choose the colours (she knew from spending time in Minerva's office that she tended to favour the reds and yellows of her house, and Hermione…didn't.) for now her office and chambers were covered in the blues and purples she always associated with him.

But she was glad Minerva had put a reign on some things. For instance, she knew, as she took a look around, that her bathroom had been furnished by Minerva because it was simple and not filled with the huge, flamboyant towels and coverings she imagined him having, but with tasteful creams, light blues and sensible towels she could actually use and like. As she popped her head inside her bedroom she couldn't help chuckling as she recognised Albus' designs. That must have been the compromise. The midnight blues, deep reds and dark purples would've told her Minerva had let Albus complete this room but the four-poster bed with blackberry colour hangings sealed her opinion, though she did detect Minerva's slight influence in the straight-backed chair at the dressing table. She knew her so well.

She smiled again as she saw her suitcase tucked snugly underneath her bed and, as she inspected her chest of drawers, found all her clothes neatly packed away, ready for use. She knew a house-elf's work when she saw it. She wondered if Dobby or Winky still belonged to the castle, she hadn't heard from them, but then, she hadn't heard form anyone. A shadow once more passing behind her eyes, she passed back into her main room and sighed happily, glad for her beautiful rooms, even if she would have to change a few of the more showy pieces which, no doubt, Albus had authorised. She must remember to thank them for everything they had done; after all, they had gone to a lot of trouble for her, if the rooms were anything to go by. She would at dinner, she decided, it would be a good way to start conversation with someone other than Harry.

As Hermione warmed herself happily by the roaring fire, her thoughts wandered to her "former life" as she called her life with Ron. It seemed like a lifetime ago but it was still painful to remember how happy she had been, though if she was truthful with herself, she had known it was all too good to be true, or to last. She let her thoughts drift for once as she unconsciously moved away from the fire and the heat and slipped into her bedroom to lie softly on the beautiful cool bed, stretching slowly to get rid of the cramps from her long journey too long ignored, savouring the feel of the deep red silk under her skin. She hated to admit it, but she did like the feel of luxury it gave her.

Sighing contentedly, she looked over at her bedside table, wondering where the house-elf who had unpacked had put her book. She frowned as she saw a foreign object set on there. It was photograph, a wizarding photograph, in a burnished silver frame she did not recognise. She swallowed and sat up, lifting the photo off her side table to take a closer look at it, hoping she had incorrectly recognised the figures standing so close together on a balcony, bathed in sunshine. She hadn't. It was of her and Ron, taken at the end of their seventh year, by the looks if it, a beautiful view behind them and smiles on their faces. Hermione clenched her jaw to keep the tears back. Damn it, why did she have to be right _all the time_?

She remembered now when this photograph had been taken, and was right (again) it had been taken at the end of their seventh year and after the Last Battle. Hermione fought desperately against the tears that sprang unbidden into her eyes. She remembered that day very well, it had been a Saturday, the last weekend they would be spending at Hogwarts (as students at least) and she had gone round a few of her teachers with Ron dragged begrudgingly around with her to say goodbye and give out a few homemade gifts. Minerva had been the hardest, but then she had expected that. They had both cried, for Hermione, it was the first time she had allowed herself to cry in months, and had hugged each other fiercely (again, the first time Hermione had made physical contact with anyone except Ron for months) while promising to write and to never forget.

Hermione had given her a picture of the whole of their year (well, as many of Slytherins as she could bribe or blackmail) but most were there. She had also given her of model of a roaring lion and a trilling phoenix, she had enchanted them herself and she knew Minerva appreciated them as much as she had hoped. She hoped that if she did visit Minerva, and she was sure she would, that perhaps they would be sitting on her mantelpiece. Contrary to common knowledge, she happened to know that the Headmaster had enjoyed a closer-than-professional relationship with his Deputy for quite some time now. She couldn't count the number of times she'd had to use a coughing fit to cover her laughter at the elaborate schemes her friends had concocted to try and make them a couple.

Of course, she had found out in circumstances she still found embarrassing to recall (which involved her walking in something she really shouldn't have) and Hermione laughed at the memory. Both she and Minerva had never flushed so much since. As she laughed quietly to herself though, the picture frame pressed into her palms and redirected her thoughts back down a less pleasant road. Minerva had taken this picture, of her and Ron on one of the balconies near her office, saying she wanted one of them for old times' sake. As if she knew what would come.

Hermione pressed her lips tightly together, slid the photo out of the frame and crumpled it savagely into a ball with a hateful sneer twisting her features. Floating over to one of her diamond paned windows, not really considering what she was doing with practised ease, as she had learnt to do with anything relating to her old life, she undid the clasp and let the wind take the photo from her grasp. She watched it bob lightly, easily, on the breeze for a few seconds then withdrew her hand and shut the window with a sharp snap.

Unknown to her, by pure coincidence, there was a rather large person walking underneath her window at that moment, who happened to see the bit of paper float away and caught it as it drifted down to him, briefly looking up at the sky with a questioning glance, wondering when the clouds had decided to shower him with paper instead of water. Unfolding it, he smoothed it out and peered at it intently. Why had someone thrown this away? And who? The answer to that question came to him almost instantly, which was something. Hermione.

Hagrid frowned and continued on his way around the castle, the picture held tightly in his hand. He knew that Hermione was bound to say something to Minerva about leaving this photo in her rooms, which would have no grounds at all. He knew Professor McGonagall had made many copies of this photo and passed it out among the staff and house elves, especially those down in the kitchens who had adored her and Ron, Dobby for instance. He knew this because he, himself, had a copy on his table at home, next to the one of his Dad and his one of Harry.

He thought about it and decided that none of the staff would have left this in her room, they wouldn't be so unfeeling, but what if the person, or elf, who had left it didn't know what had happened? The house elves might know everything about Hogwarts, but nothing about outside it! They had probably seen she had no pictures, why would she have, and left it for her to look at. Poor little mite. Hagrid strode faster towards the Entrance Hall door as a thought occurred to him. Hermione might not know Minerva had made copies. She would definitely speak to her about it. He had to make sure he got to her first. He quickened his step again and hurried towards the Main Entrance, hoping Hermione was still in her chambers.


	6. Chapter 6: Shocks and Tears

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it, wish I did, but I don't. Just the plot!!

**A/N:** Again, I cannot apologise enough for my lack of dedication to my fics, and updating them. Please forgive me, and please please please let me know what you think, how I could improve, even one word would be welcome, just to let me know you're there and still want to read this! Last chapter was a bit of filler; this one should be a lot better. I hope you like it; I loved writing this scene, so please review!

**Summary:** They left Hogwarts and she got hurt. Now that they're back will she get hurt again? **Non DH Compliant**.

**She Goes Back Again**

Chapter Six: Shocks and Tears

Hermione took a deep breath and looked at herself in the glass, wondering. She could think now she had got rid of that awful picture. She had no intention of mentioning it to anyone, if someone had put it there on purpose, then no doubt they would ask about it. Then she could let them know exactly what she thought of their oh-so-kind gesture. Until then, she didn't want to think about it more than she had already. It wouldn't do her any good what so ever. Instead, she thought of the coming term, and her students. And with that, came a problem she knew she had to address.

She knew that as soon as they saw her they would judge her on what they had already seen and heard. How could she stop that from happening? She wanted the students to be comfortable around her, certainly at first. She was definitely a huge (she had to suppress a chuckle at that pun) change from Filius Flitwick. How could she help ease them into her styles and methods? The solution came to her quite easily and she brightened. She just had to change her appearance so that no one would connect her with herself. Simple really.

Lifting an arm, she ran her hand over her tidy hair, sighing. She wouldn't be able to keep it up all the time, it was too much like her and Minerva and she knew that. Many often commented on it as a particular characteristic she must've picked up from her old professor but Hermione didn't care. It was just a practicality to her, nothing more. Well, perhaps there was some element of it being a familiarity which she always connected with Minerva, but that wasn't something she was about to share with whoever asked.

Could she even do this? Was it allowed? She knew Albus had given the governors a fake name so her presence at Hogwarts wouldn't be known and the information wouldn't be passed from one hand to another and eventually to the Minister for Magic, whom she was not about to name. This would only authenticate his story, and if someone did come to check, the students wouldn't have to be given an explanation for her absence, as she wouldn't need leave. It was convenient. Whether Albus would see it that way would be another matter. She stood, walked to the fire, gathered a handful of power in the flowerpot on her mantelpiece and threw it into the fire, calling,

"Headmaster? Could I speak with you please?" She stepped back and waited as there was a whoosh or flames and she nodded while the Headmaster unfolded himself from the fireplace and straightened, his glasses a little askew but amusingly so while his arms flailed a little from the momentum. Hermione restrained a chuckle as his eyes focused on his glasses, shook his head and righted them to their usual position on the end of his long, crooked nose.

"Yes Hermione?" He smiled as he stood in front of her, brushing soot from his robes, now he had dealt with his glasses. She looked, to his eyes, slightly brighter than when she had been in the staff room and he wondered what had changed. He had noticed her discussion with Harry and he knew it had not ended well. Then again, Harry had always been less forgiving than was perhaps good for him and abandonment was not something he bore easily from anybody, least of all someone he trusted. Albus knew that through painful experience.

"I was wondering Headmaster, if it would be possible to change my appearance temporarily, to put the students at their ease around me so they will get to know me before judging me." Hermione explained in her most professional voice in response to Albus' surprised expression and questioning raised eyebrows. He frowned, as she had known he would, and lifted a hand to rub his forehead, thinking it over while Hermione held her breath and waited. He looked over at her, studying her minutely (though she had no idea what he was looking for) before adjusting his glasses once more and answering carefully,

"I see no reason why you cannot. It's not exactly within the rules, but that has never stopped us, although I have to advise against it." Hermione, who had smiled upon hearing the first part of his verdict, frowned in return upon hearing the last and took a step back, folding her arms, taking the defensive position that was obviously second nature to her. Albus sub-consciously grieved for the circumstances that had made her so wounded and protective.

"Why Headmaster?" She asked coldly, looking him straight in the eye with hers in a way that reminded him sharply of his wife, though the covering over her emotions that he could see in Hermione was something Minerva very rarely did, but when she did, he had better watch out. He sighed, and thought perhaps the same was true for his daughter. He could handle Minerva when she was in a rage, but Hermione had a different sort of anger, she had his type, a white anger that could last for years. Perhaps an attempt at a joke would not go amiss?

"Please don't call me that, it makes me feel even older than I already am. Severus only uses it to serve that purpose." He told her, not answering her and smiling hopefully. It didn't work.

"You're avoiding the subject Albus." She told him sternly, flashing her eyes at him with a cold, hard stare that he again, likened to Minerva. Her entire stance was tight and forbidding, and though she was not aware of it, power was washing off of her like it must have done that day in Transfiguration, and it served to make him shiver. Minerva had given him a brief account of what had happened, and he had guessed a lot more from her words than perhaps she would have liked. Now he knew he was most definitely in big trouble. He knew now, in this instance, direct talking was most probably the best course of action.

"Hermione, really, don't you think it would be better for your students to get to know _you_ as you are? They may well judge you, as they judge us all, but then they'll grow accustomed to you and reconsider those judgements. Surely you can see that? And another point: How do you plan to change back, if you plan to at all? Or are you planning on assuming another identity all together? No matter what your past, you will always be Hermione Granger and your memories make part of who you are! Would you really be willing to give all the good things you have up for the sake of one trial? I know I wouldn't change who I am for anything, and I have barely a moment to myself in one week alone! But I have-"

"You have Minerva. You have someone to crawl into bed beside, and talk to and confide in and love and adore. Albus, I will never have that. Perhaps, with this chance, I could. I have remained in hiding so long, in a few years, most people won't even remember who I am, I'll be a name who was something connected to the war and Harry Potter. I'm going to go through with this Albus, no matter how you disapprove." Hermione glared at him and stepped backwards, her arms still firmly folded in front of her and her head held high, almost imperiously so, which only added to the definite edge in her tone.

Albus looked at her pleadingly, begging her not to do this. Couldn't she see it was just another way of hiding? What good would it do her? She would never recover from what she had undergone if she kept running away from it! He couldn't deny that he was a fan of denial, and yes, he could well call himself a hypocrite for this, but Hermione needed to stop running! But he could see from her stony face there was no use arguing with her. He nodded, turned, threw a handful of floo powder into the flames but he heard a voice whisper behind him and he paused.

"I'm sorry Albus." He smiled sadly, knowing she couldn't see him, and stepped into the fire, as it turned green, telling her softly as he disappeared,

"I hope you know what you're doing." Hermione turned away from the fire as it subsided back into the normal, yellow flame, and blinked furiously to keep down the burning tears. She knew he was disappointed with her and somehow, that was harder to bear than if he had forbidden her to change. Merlin, she should have known this wouldn't be easy. Now she had alienated one of the few people she could actually talk to and unless she apologised she could very well lose him completely, and Minerva as well.

She rubbed a hand over her face wearily and headed over to her door, quickly passing outside into the corridor. She hoped her guess was correct as she clipped down the set of stairs at the end of her corridor. Minerva's office was luckily not far from hers otherwise she might've missed him but she did get there in time, no thanks to a trick stair she'd forgotten about which nearly broke her ankle. This wasn't the sort of thing one could do through fire call, and she didn't want to give Albus the chance to get away. Standing as straight as she could, she stood outside her mentor's door and knocked three times at a normal speed, as she used to do when she was a student and she knew Minerva would remember.

"Come in!" Hermione heard McGonagall call and she entered, keeping her head down and closing the door behind her before turning to face the rest of the room. As she had expected, Albus was there, standing on the right side of the fire with his arm lying on the mantelpiece by her animated figurines. There was the lion and there was her phoenix, who unlike his master, looked very content. Albus looked worried while Minerva stood on the other side of the fire, looking apprehensive.

"Hermione, Albus has just been telling me about your plan." Minerva explained hurriedly, forgetting for the moment in the midst of her worry that Hermione knew of her relationship with Albus, as so few others did, while her hands twisted in front of her and her eyes jumped around the room with an awkward light in them. Hermione, on the other hand, had not forgotten what she should never have found out. It wasn't something she thought she would ever forget.

"It's alright Professor, I knew he'd be here, that's why I came." Hermione said, a small knowing smile slipping across her face, which of course Minerva noticed and jolted her memory, before the tip upwards turned upside down with her next sentence. "What is your opinion?" Hermione asked it hesitantly, fully facing Minerva for the blow she thought would fall. If she didn't approve, then Hermione knew in her heart she would not go through with it. It wouldn't be worth what she would lose. Minerva stepped forward and took her daughter's hands, carefully considering what she was about to say.

"I think that," her gaze flicked to Albus, but she sternly ushered it back to Hermione very quickly, "it will help you in the long run, through you will need to talk it through with Albus and I at some point and give us a few more details." She finished, meeting Hermione's eyes with a smile of confidence, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw the happiness in the young woman's eyes. Hermione was still very young, and when Albus had told her of what she had said about her fading into the past, her heart had nearly broken. It is hard enough for a mother to hear that, but for her daughter to actually believe it was worse.

Hermione smiled back at Minerva, her throat a little tight with happiness. At last, someone trusted her enough to let her do what she thought was right! It was a marvellous feeling, to be trusted, not something she had felt or been used to feeling for a long while. She then felt Albus' eyes resting on her back, and probably on Minerva's face, and thought with a twist of her stomach how much Minerva agreeing with her would cost the two of them. She knew Albus wanted to speak, so she dropped Minerva's right hand to turn to him. From behind her, Minerva gave him a warning glance. Albus sighed, knowing when he was beaten. There were some forces he was not willing to fight, and both of them were standing before him.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I should never have tried to interfere. I still don't agree with it, but I won't hold it against you, and I won't mention it again. I just want what's best for you, that's all." 'That's all' seemed a feeble way of ending it, he wanted to shout at them, tell them they were wrong but he knew it would do no good and much harm. He's spent his life trying to right everything wrong in this world, and though he was much less than willing to stop now, especially with his daughter's happiness in the balance, there was nothing he could do. Albus did look deeply regretful and his eyes reached a depth of apology that he felt because he could not save her, a depth Hermione was sure only Harry and Minerva had ever seen. She felt her heart begin to melt and her expression, which had been a bit sharp, visibly softened.

"I know Albus and I do appreciate it, though I won't always show it and I may seem ungrateful, but surely you know how much you and Minerva mean to me? I wouldn't be here without you! But… you are not my father Albus, and you cannot keep acting as if you are." Hermione finished with a soft reprimand which she didn't think warranted the reaction they gave. Albus physically flinched and turned away, hurt etched in his face and manner. Minerva behind her stiffened, and as Hermione turned, closed her eyes as if to keep back tears. Hermione looked between the two, confused. It took a few seconds for either to recover and Minerva was first.

"Oh Hermione, of all the things you could have said, you had to say that!" Minerva said in a low tone exasperatedly, shaking her head. Hermione was still very confused and deciding that it was time one of them explained, she asked less gently than she could have done, dropping Minerva's hand that had suddenly gone cold, as she frowned in an irritated manner, (being meek was not something she did lightly and she did not like it being rejected)

"Professor, what on earth do you mean?" Minerva opened her eyes and Hermione was dismayed to find tears there, shining in her mentor's eyes. She moved away, to the unoccupied corner of the room and waited for some kind of explanation for their strange and alarming behaviour. Albus, having recovered himself, went and stood beside his wife, taking the hand Hermione had dropped in his own and smoothing a thumb gently over her soft skin, giving a small sign of comfort before they took this huge leap together.

"We've hidden it long enough now." He murmured with conviction and Minerva nodded, gripping his hand tightly as her eyes lifted once more to rest on their daughter, gathering the strength she knew she would need to drop this huge bombshell on the one person she loved as much as her husband.

"Hermione, there's something we - we need to tell you. Some years ago, Albus and I had a child, a daughter, and she was the single most beautiful thing in my life, but b-because of the war we had to give her up. We placed her with muggle parents where we could be sure no one would look for her, if they found out about her. We watched over her, visiting her secretly. I often went in my Animagus form. Eventually, she came to Hogwarts, as we knew she would and she was everything we hoped she'd be: Clever, dedicated, quick to learn, kind, courageous. We were so proud. When she graduated, I thought my heart would burst. She received the highest mark for her Charms and Transfiguration NEWTs for the past sixty years and completed twice as many NEWTs as any other student. Do - do you know who that girl is?" Minerva asked somewhat hesitantly, biting her lips a little.

Of course, Hermione had not achieved the highest mark in Transfiguration for nothing. She knew exactly who the girl was. _She_ was the girl. And she had no idea how to take it. Minerva was her mother? Well, that explained a lot she supposed, and it made her feel glad. She loved Minerva like a daughter would love a mother; she had been there for her through everything. But Albus… how could he be her father? It didn't seem possible. Daughter to one of the most brilliant sorcerers of all time? How could it be? She had admired him from afar, but she hadn't felt as close to him as she had to Minerva until she had left Hogwarts.

Minerva desperately wanted to go to her and take her in her arms, just to comfort her and help her as she had always done but Albus would not release her. He knew she would need a minute without Minerva's embrace to sort everything out in her own mind. Having Minerva holding her would only confuse her. Minerva had to watch while the colour drained from the younger woman's face and the confusion increased. The shock of it all was beginning to set in, and she blinked slowly.

"Hermione?" Minerva ventured, itching forward slightly, despite the warning look Albus had thrown her. Upon hearing her mother speak, the new professor looked up with unfocussed eyes before they sharpened onto the faces before her, and she stared at her mother and father, stood just a few steps in front of her. They were both looking back at her with strained expressions, but there was a twist of hopefulness to Albus' face while Minerva's was almost gaunt with a want to help.

"Professor, I don't know how to cope with this." Hermione managed to force out of her constricted throat, swallowing hurriedly. Minerva nodded understandingly, wishing there was more she could do for the young girl who was still under her care, no matter how old she was. Hermione put a hand over her forehead, covering her eyes and tipping her head back as she conjured an armchair and sat down rather heavily, not looking up but relaxing into the cushioned chair. The other two professors shared a look and Albus let her go. Professor McGonagall rushed to her daughter's side and clutched her hand in the same vice-like grip Albus had held hers in only a few seconds ago while bending down. Hermione didn't seem to notice and remained still.

"Hermione, dearest, were we right to tell you? We didn't want to upset you, we just wanted you to understand." Minerva asked gently, covering her charge's hand with her own, older hands. Hermione felt the contact and warmth, and stirred herself, realising her reaction wasn't exactly what they would have hoped for. It was only shock that had stunned her, she was honestly was glad they had told her. Losing her muggle parents had nearly destroyed her, and though no one could replace them, she was willing to let Minerva and Albus step into their shoes because the hole they had left was something she still felt.

"Of course you were, I am honestly glad, it's just a shock. I'll be fine in a minute." She replied, taking the hand not held by Minerva, away from her face and looking into her mother's eyes with an assurance that warmed them both. The acknowledgement of a bond that had always been there was comforting to both of them, as if saying why it was there made it real. Albus hung back for a few seconds and watched them, marvelling at how well they interacted even now, and then approached as well cautiously.

Hermione looked up and for the first time, saw something of herself in him; in the nervous way he found her eyes. She tried to draw up a smile for him and raised her free hand to him, knowing in some long-forgotten part of her she had guessed at this when she was much younger. Albus could see what she was thinking and smiled, in the fatherly way she now recognised for what it was. Minerva looked happily between her daughter and her husband, smiling as well, not so worried about the woman in front of her as she had been.

"Hermione, don't be sorry. You have every right to be feeling any of the thousands of emotions at this moment. We, on the other hand, are allowed to be sorry. And we are." Albus told her softly, grasping her hand and covering it with his other hand as well. The beauty of the moment struck the young woman, and made her smile truthfully, looking up at her father then down at her mother. She had parents again. Parents who loved her, enough to give her up when it had obviously hurt them both to keep her at such a distance for so long. She stood and guided Minerva up with her, her happiness bubbling up inside her to the point where she could only just keep from laughing.

Albus stepped forward and opened his arms, gathering both women up into them and holding them close to him, allowing his warmth and power to surround them and keep them safe. Hermione clung to them, tears finally overflowing from her eyes and coursing joyfully down her face, laughs flowing up her throat and out over them, gladness finally foremost in all of their minds. They became a real family in that moment, a moment that would live in all of their minds through the coming months when trials would once again become part of their lives. It would give them strength and would give them something to remember and share.

Hermione murmured her password to her portrait and slipped inside her rooms, a smile still hanging around her mouth and smouldering embers still alight in her heart. The surprise Albus and Minerva had given her was a very welcome one, and one she would treasure whenever she had a minute to think about it. Yet, as much as she tried to suppress it, there was a sadness connected to this wonderful gift. Her muggle parents had never told her and then, they couldn't. They had the chance taken away from them. The grief she felt when thinking of those two people who had raised her was still deep and still not truly dealt with.

Knowing what she had to do, she walked quickly over to her bedroom and opened the door before going over and kneeling before her bedside cabinet and, hoping the house elf who had unpacked had not been nosy or clumsy, pulled out the biggest book she owned form the lowest part of the cabinet. She then carefully placed to on her bed, whispered a few words to unlock it and gently opened the cover. Inside lay a small, wooden box with some extraordinary markings that clustered around her touch and dispersed when she wasn't there. It was disguised inside the huge volume called "Transfiguration and Charms: An Expert Guide" which she had bought herself in seventh year, after the 'Black Letter' incident.

**A/N2:** The next chapter will be a flashback to Hermione's seventh year and the talk mentor and student shared in her office. Hope you liked this one, please review! I love knowing what you think and appreciate any suggestion you make.


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