Well, this WAS going to be a oneshot, but it seems to be turning into a two or three shot. I'm not done writing for the evening, but I think this is a good place to cut off "part one"...so here it is.

A small, tabby cat sat on a white window ledge of a two story house, peeking inside to the bedroom of a bushy haired eleven year old girl. The girl didn't know it yet, but she was a witch. The cat observed as pretty brown eyes peered intently at a muggle novel. Green cat eyes blinked as the older, trained witch in feline form wondered if what sort of books this girl, Hermione Jean Granger, would be interested in reading once she came to Hogwarts this coming fall.

Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts, found herself earnestly hoping that the young Miss Granger would find a passion for her subject. She had a hunch the girl would excel in whatever subjects she studied, which probably meant she would end up in Ravenclaw, rather than her own school House of Gryffindor.

Sighing, Minerva left off the ledge on onto the sidewalk, and after looking around to make certain there was no one to observe her, she transformed back into her human form. Ebony hair was tied neatly into its traditional bun, but the Transfiguration professor was not dresses as she usually might. No, she could not wear a witch's robes to make first contact with the muggleborn witch and her family. Instead, she wore simple black slacks, and an emerald button down shirt, which only served to bring out her matching eyes.

After taking a deep breath, Minerva lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

Hermione Granger, muggleborn, stood anxiously in line with the rest of her new Hogwarts' students. She was with Harry Potter, who was rather famous but seemed nice enough, and another boy named Ron Weasley, who came from a large family, all of which shared noted red hair. He wasn't quite as nice as Harry, but he seemed alright. Time would tell.

"Students, if you would please follow me!" a stern, Scottish voice rang.

Hermione looked up and smiled at the woman who had come to her house three months ago and told her and her parents all about the Wizarding World, and how Hermione was a witch. It was in her blood. Professor McGonagall had looked far less strict when wearing slacks and a blouse then she did now, with what seemed to be a traditional Witch's robe. Still, Hermione decided that she liked the woman.

Less than half hour later, Hermione found herself sitting on a stool in front of the entire school, and an oversized, ratty old had was placed on her head. She pursed her lips as the Hat began to speak to her.

"Ah, you will be most difficult to place. You have the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, the cunning of a Slytherin, the mind of a Ravenclaw, and the bravery of a Gryffindor," the Hat said.

Hermione was listening, but she wasn't really worried about where the Hat would place her. She'd read Hogwarts, A History, before she'd arrived here, and reread it on the train ride, and she knew there were great qualities to each out. Her gaze wandered around the room, spotting the few first years who had already been sorted. Her eyes rested on the Gryffindor table, not for any reason other than that she briefly wondered what it had been like for Professor McGonagall, who she already knew had been in Gryffindor, when the older woman had been a student.

"Got your eye on Minerva, eh?" the Hat asked.

Hermione didn't feel a need to verbalize, as the Hat obviously could read her mind. She seems like she would be a good teacher, she thought. Strict, but fair, I'd imagine. Harry Potter's parents were also in Gryffindor, and the reading I've done suggests they were the same sort. I think being a Gryffindor is about more than just being brave.

"Bravery is often nothing more than the fortitude to do what's right," the Hat replied, "or not being afraid to speak your mind. A keen mind you have, and so…"

Hermione was lifting the Hat off her head and handing it back to Professor McGonagall, offering a grin before the Hat had a chance to finish.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Poppy had nearly needed to shove a Calming Draught down her throat after Minerva had found Hermione Granger, petrified, in a hall not too far from the Library. What on earth at the girl been doing all alone, at that hour, in the sodding Library.

The answer came to Minerva quickly enough. Hermione had been reading, of course. There wasn't much else the second year Gryffindor did. Thank Merlin Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had become her friends, or Hermione may have simply begun living among the books, talking to no one. On the other hand, being friends with Harry Potter is probably why Hermione was in trouble as much as she was. Minerva didn't peg her prized pupil as a person with a pension for mischief, but in the last few years, the trio of friends had found themselves in her office being scolded more than a few times.

Yesterday, Minerva had been wondering to herself if she could take another five years of their antics, but today, as she stood vigil at her her young student's bedside, she decided that she would muddle her way through a lifetime of those three so long as it meant Hermione was alright. The girl was special, the older witch knew without doubt. Why, she hadn't quite figured out yet, but she would.

After Hermione woke up.

Her hair was a dreadful mess. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had just returned to the normal timeline, after using the timeturner to go back and save Sirius and Buckbeak. Hermione knew she'd have bruises in the morning, after that fuss with the Whomping Willow, among other things, but she was more concerned about facing the less physical consequences. Regardless of the fact that it had been Professor Dumbledore who had prompted her abuse of the timeturner, and that everything had turned out alright, she had still abused the privilege that Professor McGonagall had given her at start of term. She knew she couldn't explain why, unless she wanted to go to Azkaban, but she would return the timeturner to Professor McGonagall in the morning.

Or…

Hermione could help but smile at her favorite teacher as she walked into the Hospital Wing. "Miss Granger. I trust you are well?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Well enough for being in the Hospital Wing, Professor," she replied quietly. "I was just thinking of you, actually."

"Were you?" the older witch asked, looking curious. "Whatever for?"

"I think it's best I return this to you," Hermione said, slipping the gold chain off her neck, and offering to the woman who'd given it to her nine months before."

Hermione watched her Professor's face for a reaction, and was relieved to find there was no disappointment, but rather an understanding smile. "These things really are a lot of trouble, aren't they?" she asked knowingly.

Hermione nodded. "It was great to be able to go to every class, and have time to get all my homework done the way I thought it ought to be done, but in the end, I think it's more than I can handle."

The older woman's lips twitched, forming a smirk. "And there I'd begun to think you could handle anything."

Hermione gazed intently at her Professor, wondering if there was more behind that comment then there seemed. "Handling everything is your job, Professor," she replied with a tiny laugh.

Suddenly, brown eyes met green, and the two Gryffindors just stared at each other for a few seconds. An understanding formed between them, though what that understanding was, Hermione wasn't quite sure.

She resolved to figure it out over the summer hols.

Minerva was standing in an abandoned hallway, face in a corner, crying. Voldemort was back. Another war had begun.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva turned around, quickly wiping her tears away on her sleeve. "Yes, Miss Granger?" she asked as soon as she had identified who had interrupted her blubbering.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked softly, staring at her with a small frown.

"Of course," the older witch said at once. She should have never let herself cry outside of her private quarters…

"Minerva…" Hermione said sternly, hands on her hips, startling the teacher by way of using her first name. "Who do you honestly think you're fooling? What's wrong?"

"I...I…" Minerva stuttered. She wasn't sure what was more shocking; Hermione concern, or Hermione having the nerve to address her informally. The girl was only fifteen! "It's none of your concern, Miss Granger," she stated, voice shaking. Who was she fooling, indeed?

Shocking the older witch further, Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her teacher's slim waistline. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want. Just know that I care, and if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

At that, the fourth year Gryffindor pulled away, and walked away quickly, leaving Minerva standing there, staring after her pupil, totally at a loss for word or thought.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" she asked the now empty corridor.

Hermione felt a tingle go down her back as Minerva rushed past her, briefly laying a hand on her arm, and out into the courtyard, immediately wrapping Professor Trelawney in her embrace.

"Something you'd like to say, dear?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

"There are several things I would like to say!" Minerva replied in a shaking, angry voice.

A moment later, Dumbedore strode into the scene, and asked his Deputy to escort the Divination Professor back inside. She did so, but as she pushed Trelawney along, she took a moment to glance over her shoulder and look directly at Hermione.

The younger witch suppressed a gasp of surprise as Minerva's voice echoed in her mind, quite clearly.

Thank you Hermione, for reminding me how much good a simple hug can do.

Hermione first thoughts drifted back to the end of last term when she had found Minerva crying in a hallway, and given her a hug as an offered comfort. She'd known before she asked the older witch what was wrong that it was doubtful Minerva would open up to a student, but a hug was innocent and while it may have tread the line, it did not cross the teacher-student boundary.

At least, that's what Hermione had thought that day. That hug had changed things, however. Hermione couldn't quite figure out what the change meant, but she honestly hadn't had much time to dwell on it. Between a busy summer, most of which had been spent cleaning Number Twelve, and then being back at Hogwarts with that awful Umbridge woman teaching, and then convincing Harry to teach the students Defense, which led to the formation of The DA, she'd had little time to ponder what made her feelings toward Professor McGonagall different than how she felt about her other teachers.

On top of that, she'd come to the unsettling realization that she found Ginny more attractive than she found Ron; a notion that she was doing her very best to ignore. Padma was really pretty too, Hermione thought to herself. But it didn't matter. It did not mean that she was gay.

Nope, it didn't mean anything of the sort.

Minerva didn't know what she was thinking. Albus was dead, but it wasn't his presence she craved right now. Armed with tears and not a single shred of pride or dignity, Hogwarts' new Headmistress made her way down to the Black Lake where Harry Potter had indicated he'd last seen Hermione going.

As she approached, she could see familiar brown curls shifting in the wind. Hermione was standing alone at the edge of the water, wand in hand, though she did not seem to be performing any spells. Minerva watched the younger woman as she edged her way closer in silence. What was it about those soulful brown eyes that beckoned to her? Why, Minerva wondered, was she drawn to a student like a moth to a flame?

"Miss Gran -" she began to announce herself once she'd gotten within a few feet. "Hermione…" she finished in a shaking whisper.

Hermione turned, seemingly unsurprised to see her there. "Hello, Minerva," she said.

"I was wondering…" Minerva started to explain, and then trailed off. "Never mind, it's silly."

"Would you like a hug?" Hermione asked quietly, tilting her head to the side, a curious glint in her eyes.

How had she known? Minerva blushed and nodded slowly, feeling all manner of pathetic at the moment, but knowing nothing else would soothe her aching soul.

"Come to me," Hermione beckoned, opening her arms in invitation after quickly stowing her wand.

Minerva approached, slowly, eyeing the younger witch carefully. She wondered what this meant to Hermione. Had they developed, unknowing, some sort of familial bond? Or perhaps, had their respective ages and stations been brushed aside like ash in the wind, allowing them to form an unlikely friendship? What did it all mean? How did Hermione feel?

Sensing Minerva's hesitation, Hermione stepped forward as well, meeting her teacher half way, and pulled her into a tight embrace. "It'll be alright," Hermione whispered into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Not today, not tomorrow, but eventually… it will be alright."

Minerva knew that tomorrow, she'd be strong again, and tomorrow, she and Hermione would pretend the hug had never happened, just like they had the last time. That was the beauty of the whole thing, Minerva mused. Hermione demanded nothing from her - no conversation, no explanation, no excuses; she simply offered a shoulder when Minerva needed it, as if it had always been that way, though when the sun fell and rose again, she seemed content to slip back into the role of student which Minerva guiltily knew that she should never have allowed Hermione to step out of in the first place.

After Hermione graduated, perhaps they would talk about it. But not now. This moment, this embrace, appeared to be as forgettable as a face in a crowd, though something told Minerva that she would remember it forever.

What do you think? Please review!