I swore I wasn't going to write another multi chap for a while...but 3000 odd words into my planned one shot covering snippets of Hermione's Hogwarts years...and it's only end of first year. Each year promises to be just as long, so it looks like you guys are getting a seven or eight chapter fic here.

Not that you lot will complain much about new MM/HG...

First Year

September 7, 1991

Hermione Granger strode purposefully toward Professor McGonagall's office. When the nearly twelve year old had started at Hogwarts she had set herself a schedule which allowed for time to spend with friends. However, since she didn't seem to be able to acquire any of those, she figured she ought to fill the time with extra schoolwork. So far her favorite class was Transfiguration so she was set on asking her Head of House for additional assignments.

She knocked on the large wooden for smartly, and after only a moment she heard a voice call from within. "Enter!"

Hermione opened the door, meeting her teacher's gaze a moment later. "Do you have a minute, Professor McGonagall?" she inquired.

"For you Miss Granger," the older witch smiled, setting aside what she had been working on, "always."

Hermione blushed, pleased that her favorite teacher knew her by name only a week into term. They had only had her in two classes so far, after all. "I was wondering if I could have some additional assignments for your class. I have some free time in my schedule which I felt would be best spent getting ahead in classes I am most interested in."

"Free time that you had slotted to spent with friends you are finding difficulty making?" Professor McGonagall inquired quietly.

Hermione found herself looking down at the floor, trying not to cry. How could McGonagall know her so well already? Suddenly she saw a pair of black boots and the hem of emerald robes. "I don't understand what I'm doing wrong," the girl muttered.

"Look at me, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, Scottish brogue evident.

The young Gryffindor summoned her courage and looked up at the woman who she found herself liking more and more each day.

"You are doing nothing wrong," Professor McGonagall stated firmly. "Building relationships take time, and you have only been at Hogwarts a week."

Hermione sighed, feeling reassured. She had spent the first eleven years of her life feeling like a freak, but when she had received her Hogwarts letter she suddenly had hope of fitting in. Her first week of school had yielded no evidence to support that idea, but if Professor McGonagall thought there was still a chance...

"Don't try to fit into a box, Hermione," Professor McGonagall advised, as if she'd read her mind. "Just be yourself."

"Okay," Hermione whispered.

November 2, 1991

Minerva McGonagall could not begrudge Hermione Granger the opportunity to make friends, finally, but lying could not go unchecked. She would not punish the girl or her two new friends any more than she already had over the troll nonsense, but she would have a private word with Miss Granger about the lie. She knew why the girl had been prompted to say what she had, but she did not want it to become a habit.

The Transfiguration Professor walked out into the courtyard as the clock struck two. She saw Granger, along with Potter and Weasley, sitting near the bridge up ahead. She strode forward, suppressing a smirk as Potter and Weasley noticed her approach and had become decidedly wide eyed in fear. She saw Potter nudge Granger, and when the girl turned and noticed her Professor coming, she smiled brightly. "Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall," Hermione greeted.

"And to you," Minerva replied. "I was wondering if I might have word with you, Miss Granger. Care for a walk to the lake?"

"Absolutely," Hermione replied. Minerva thought that this girl was entirely too pleased to be called aside by a teacher, especially on a Saturday.

She told the boys she'd see them later in the Common Room and then moved to follow Minerva. After they were out of earshot Minerva spoke. "I'd like to talk to you about what happened on Halloween, Miss Granger."

Instead of stuttering in fear as Minerva had expected, Hermione just sighed. "Yea, I figured as much."

Minerva stopped walking. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you are very smart, Professor," Hermione replied. "I was honestly surprised you didn't call me out for lying sooner. Will I be serving detention?"

Minerva chuckled. "No, Miss Granger. I have no intention of punishing you further. I understand why you lied. I simply do not wish for you to think it is acceptable to lie to me on a regular basis. I want you to trust me."

The girl looked at her curiously, taking in what Minerva had said. "Yes, ma'am." She whispered.

January 4, 1992

Hermione was glad to be back at Hogwarts, although it had been nice to see her parents over Christmas. Two things had surprised her during the break, however. First, she had noticed how much more profound the differences between herself and her muggle family and friends were, now that she was actively interacting with the wizarding world. Secondly, she found it a bit disturbing that she missed Professor McGonagall even more than she missed Harry and Ron over the break. What was it that made her Head of House so...appealing?

In light of the second revelation, Hermione had gotten Professor McGonagall a Christmas gift, belated though it may be, and was now approaching the older witch's office to give it to her. She knocked on the door after checking the time to ensure her Professor was finished with the seventh year open office time she slotted for each Saturday morning. Two 'o' clock. Yes, she'd been done for a couple hours now, and had time for lunch.

"Enter!" Professor McGonagall called.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione greeted softly.

"Hello to you, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall smiled. "I didn't expect to see you till class on Monday."

"I just wanted to give you this," Hermione said, holding out a medium sized, neatly wrapped box. "A bit late, but Merry Christmas."

Professor McGonagall looked surprised, if not stunned, which Hermione realized she should have expected. Regardless the older woman took the package and began unwrapping it. A few moments later, the paper fell away to reveal a hat, scarf, and gloves, all in a matching tarten print. "These are wonderful, Hermione, thank you very much."

"You're welcome, Professor," Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you like them."

April 18, 1992

Minerva had never before questioned her actions toward a student before now, but as she prepared to step inside the Gryffindor Common Room, she hesitated. The moment she had heard that Hermione Granger would not be going home for the Easter break, Minerva had felt an overwhelming urge to ask the twelve year old girl to tea. It wasn't as if Hermione was the only one to stay over Easter - many students did - but for some reason it seemed to Minerva that if Hermione was staying, there was something wrong with her home life at the moment, and if that was true, then she wanted to offer Hermione her support.

Granted, Minerva knew she could, be totally off base. Perhaps Hermione just wished to stay with her friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Both boys were also remaining for the holiday. On the other hand, Minerva's instincts told her that Hermione was hurting. She had seemed very unsure when she'd signed her name on the list of students staying. What was really bothering Minerva about all this was how connected she felt to this particular child. They were so much alike after all. Someday Hermione would be an adult, and she would be the exact type of person Minerva would love to be friends with. Why not lay the foundations of such a friendship now? There was nothing wrong with that, right?

Minerva huffed at herself and stepped into the Common Room, eyes quickly scanning till she located the bushy haired girl. "Hello, Hermione," Minerva said, clearing her throat.

Pretty brown eyes shot up from the book they had been reading. "Professor?"

"Where are the boys?" Minerva asked casualty, trying to express without words that she was not here in an official capacity.

Hermione relaxed, and smiled ruefully. "Quiddich Pitch."

"And you are here because?" Minerva inquired.

Hermione set her book down and eyed Minerva for a moment before replying. Getting stared down by a student - a first year at that - was a bit unsettling for the elder witch, but she held Hermione's gaze and awaited her response. "Do you mean to ask why I am not with Harry and Ron, or why I did not go home for the holiday?" the girl asked firmly.

Normally that kind a cheek would land a student in detention, but despite all reason, this particular student seemed well on her way to having the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts wrapped around her finger.

"Both, I guess," Minerva muttered, taking a seat next to the girl. "I just don't want you to be lonely...and if you did happen to want some company... I thought you might want to come to my quarters for tea."

QUARTERS? Minerva snapped at herself. What happened to tea in her OFFICE?

Hermione grinned, an uncharacteristically sly glint in her eye. "See? That wasn't so hard, Professor. There are so rules against a teacher being friends with a student. I checked. And yes, I would love to have tea with you. In fact, I'd enjoy doing so on a regular basis."

Minerva balked. That insolent little chit! How utterly Slytherin of her. "Are you sure the hat sorted you correctly?" She muttered, still stunned.

Hermione smirked. "Muggleborns don't do well in Slytherin, if that's what you were thinking. The hat considered placing me in Ravenclaw, but it said my future was in Gryffindor. I do wonder what that meant...

Hours later the pair stood at the door of Minerva's quarters, bidding a good evening. As Hermione turned to go, Minerva bit her lip as the inner debate about what was appropriate raged on. Three seconds later, her desire to spend time with the young Gryffindor won out. "Saturdays at two?" She blurted. "Here, tea?"

Hermione looked back toward her Professor, and after a moment, she nodded, and a soft smile played on her lips. "I'll be here."

May 9, 1992

Hermione sat across from her Transfiguration Professor, nestled comfortable in a large arm chair by the fire in the older witch's quarters. The last few weeks of having tea with her Head of House had been times of joy for the young Gryffindor. The two talked about everything from academics to life in general. Hermione shared with Professor McGonagall all of the things she didn't feel she could tell Harry and Ron, like her troubles at home, for example.

When she'd gone home for the Christmas holiday, her parents had been rather distant. It only took a couple days for Hermione to realize why; the look in her mum and dad's eyes when she spoke of the spells she had learned already was fear. Hermione was twelve years old, and her parents were afraid of her because she was a witch. She tried to put on a good face, pretending not to be aware of their feelings, but behind closed doors it hurt deeply that the cost of fitting in somewhere was losing her parents. When Easter break had rolled around, Hermione had decided that it was not worth two weeks of uncomfortable glances to go home, and so she'd stayed. She was hoping that over the summer she might be able to educate her parents a bit more about the Wizarding world and put their fears at rest. After all, most fear was borne out of a lack of understanding.

As far as her growing relationship with Professor McGonagall, Hermione's thoughts were less clear. She knew she cared about the older witch, but while logically it should be the type of caring that is associated with a surrogate parent, Hermione did not believe that was what she felt toward the Scottish witch who currently sat across from her.

"A Knut for your thoughts, Hermione," Professor McGonagall said casually.

Hermione sipped her tea, allowing for a moment of consideration before replying. "I was thinking about my parents," she said softly. "I'm not sure how to address their fears about magic, as they won't confide in me about it."

"Give them time, my dear," the old woman advised. "You have been able to see first-hand that magic is nothing to be afraid of, but their only exposure was when I came to your house to explain you were a witch. You went to Diagon Alley on your own, right?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, frowning. She'd asked her parents to go with her to get her supplies, but her father's cutting reply of 'if you're old enough to go off to a fancy boarding school, you can sort out your own shopping', still hurt when she thought about it.

"How are you doing on school supplies, anyhow?" Professor McGonagall asked. "I could show you how to Owl order anything you need, if you're low on quills or parchment. Merlin knows you use plenty of both."

Hermione blushed. "Well…"

"It's alright," the older witch whispered conspicuously. "I was the same way when I was your age."

Hermione resisted the urge to giggle, mind drifted back to what had caused her interest in Minerva McGonagall in the first place. More than eight months later, the Sorting Hat's words still rang in her head.

"Difficult to place, you are. Sharp enough mind for Ravenclaw, loyal enough for Hufflepuff, logical enough for Slytherin, and brave enough for Gryffindor. So where to put you, eh? Muggleborns don't do well in Slytherin, and I sense your loyalties are changing by your parents' betrayal. You'd do well in Ravenclaw, though the love of your life, your future, is waiting in GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione had thought it was a bit ridiculous that a ratty old hat was predicting who she might fall in love with, when she grew up, but less than a year later Hermione gulped as a possibility surfaced in her mind. What if Professor McGonagall was her future?

June 6, 1992

Two 'o' clock came, and passed without Hermione showing up for she and Minerva's weekly tea. Hermione had never missed a Saturday with her, and besides, it was unlike the girl not to tell someone who was expecting her if something came up. Needless to say, Minerva was worried.

She guiltily thought about her encounter with Hermione and the boys this morning, in which they had barged in to her office and declared that someone was going to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. Besides the fact that they were students and it was none of their bloody business, Minerva had been sharp in her reply because Hermione had never once spoken of the trio's interested in the Stone. There was no way they had discovered its existence in the course of the last week – in fact it probably took them most of the year to find anything on it. Yet, in however long they'd been nosing around, Hermione had never once confided in her. And that hurt – a hell of a lot more than she knew it should. Hermione was a child, after all, and however mature she may act, it was unreasonable for Minerva to expect adult judgment from a not even thirteen year old girl.

Minerva cast a tempus charm for the fifth time. Two forty. The gnawing feeling that something was wrong was overbearing. The Scottish witch knew she shouldn't worry – there was nothing in this castle that could cause them real harm…except the obstacles guarding the Sorcerers Stone…

They wouldn't have gone for the Stone, would they have? Minerva wondered. No…Hermione wouldn't be that foolish…

But Harry Potter might…and Ronald Weasley certainly would…

And Hermione was with them.

"Bloody hell," Minerva said to no one. "That girl is going to give me a heart attack!"

With that, she sent a quick patronus to Albus to advise him of the warning the trio of first years had given her, and then set off to find Severus. Like it or not, she knew she could use the dour Potion Master's backup if the children really were in trouble on the third floor, or worse yet, already in the bowels of the castle.

June 13, 1992

"You're not still mad at me, are you?" Hermione asked her professor warily, stepping into the older woman's quarters for their weekly tea, and noting the less than subtle huff from Professor McGonagall. "It's been a week…"

"Since you about gave me a heart attack by going after the bloody Sorcerer's Stone?" Minerva snapped. "Hermione, going after a troll, lie that it may have been, was foolish enough! What on earth made you think that a trio of first years could take on a bunch of enchantments made by seasoned experts in multiple fields, not to mention the threat of whomever was trying to steal the stone?"

Hermione flinched. Last week's tea had never happened, as she and the boys ended up in the Hospital wing for the rest of the day after saving the Stone from Quirrill. Professor had been stern enough in her rebukes already, but this was the first they'd been alone, and it was obvious now that the Deputy Headmistress was not quite ready to 'let it go'. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to worry you, but we did try to tell you…"

"And I didn't listen…" Professor McGonagall sighed. "For that, I am the one who is sorry. I should have known that you, of all people, would not have presented your concerns if you weren't certain they were founded."

"Yes, you should have," Hermione agreed softly.

"It's odd, Hermione," Professor McGonagall said, beckoning the girl to take her usual seat. "Sometimes it's obvious how young you are, and other times you act the part of a full grown adult, speaking to me as if we were equals…and for some reason I don't mind."

"No detention for my insolence then, Professor?" Hermione asked, lips quirking upward.

Professor McGonagall laughed. "No, my dear. Besides, term is up in a few days. There would hardly be a point. Speaking of, what are your plans for the summer?"

Hermione looked sad. "I don't suppose we'll be able to continue our weekly meetings…"

"You might try and at least pretend you're excited that term is over," the older witch said pointedly.

"Oh yes," Hermione replied, voice filled with sarcasm. "I might also pretend I'm going home to parents who don't fear their daughter."

"Hermione…" Professor McGonagall said tenderly. "Is it really that bad?"

"It was at Christmas, which was why I stayed for Easter," Hermione said honestly. "However, I'm hopeful with more time to spend with them this summer, they'll come around. I'm just afraid of how uncomfortable the holiday will be if they aren't willing to try and understand."

"Well, I'm an Owl away, if you should need to talk," the Scottish woman offered. "Though I will be optimistic and believe that you'll be having so much fun at home that you won't give this old witch a second thought until classes resume in September."

Hermione laughed. "You won't get rid of me that easily, Professor."

Please review!