Notes for reading: I have it on good authority that Minerva's birthday is actually in October, 1935. This would make her less than 10 years old when my story is set, so we're going to pretend she was born in about 1925 okay? Okay.

Also. I don't condone the use of Johnny Depp for imagining Grindelwald. Anybody but Johnny. Especially as he looks now... that's just not right. Anyone else is yours to have. [Beta agrees - stupid Johnny Depp can't even say his line right at the end of Fantastic Beasts! Grrr!]

I don't know when this is set. I imagine Hugo and Rose are definitely Hogwarts age - Minerva's retired, so Hugo would at least have to be in 1st year meaning that it would be... 20 years after Hermione and the boys left school. I don't know how old that would make everybody, but if you work it out, that's great too. You don't need to, just know it's a long time after the Golden Trio leaves school and three, four or more years after Minerva retires.

Also, I've taken liberties with the weekend policy at Hogwarts. Imagine a boarding school where you can also opt to go home on the weekends if you need to. Not every weekend, but some. Make up some sort of system that might allow that. Cos it's not essential for the story, but I know some of you will want to know why sometimes the kids are home and why sometimes they're not.

The dynamic duo is back - thanks be to Spin84 for doing such an amazingly diligent job on this! She worked tirelessly to make sure you all could read it!
Also, huge love to my darling wife illestviking who pushes me to write every day and who believes in me so completely that it is humbling every day. It's down to her that I'm back. I love you sweetheart x

Also: This story has references to WWII, please be aware that while I'm not explicitly recreating some parts of this, there are complete references to torture etc.
And I refuse to say that it's rated T because of some same love between women. Love is love honestly, and it's okay if you don't like it, but be cool about it.

-0-

"Minerva?"

"Living room," came the grumbled reply.

Hermione frowned and noticed a torn piece of paper as she hung up her cloak on the hat stand. Turning one-half over, her frown deepened as she saw the logo on the letterhead.

"Bring the tea will you? My blasted wand is on the dining table."

"No problem," Hermione called, reading the letter as best she could.

She waved her own wand and a tea tray appeared, sliding through the air from the small kitchen. Holding the spell for a moment, she ducked into the dining room and picked up Minerva's wand, ignoring the funny pull in her arm as she did so.

"Ooh, thank you, dear," Minerva said with a smile, accepting Hermione's kiss on her cheek as she sat down.

"One wand," Hermione smiled. "And tea."

"I take it you saw the letter?" Minerva muttered as she poured a cup for them both.

Minerva rarely beat around the bush with Hermione. They knew each other well enough that it was not necessary to keep up appearances in front of each other.

Hermione had been by Minerva's side when Poppy Pomfrey had recently died as Minerva had been by Hermione's when her marriage had fallen apart.

Now, they took tea together every Wednesday and had dinner most Sundays. Especially when Hermione's children were home. The children loved Minerva and she loved them. Hermione was sure that it was their visits that often kept Minerva going.

"I did," she finally answered after receiving her cup of tea. "Can they do that?"

"No." Minerva frowned. "They cannot force me to go to this Phoenix Fields. Really, how stupid to call it that." She sighed and sat back, her shoulder comfortably leaning against Hermione's. "But they may be right."

"Rubbish," Hermione said gently. "You don't need to go into a home. You're fine." She looked sideways at Minerva who went very still. "You are fine, aren't you?"

"We'll, I'm old, I know that much," she chuckled. "I had an unfortunate incident with the stove the other day," Minerva admitted. "That is why they sent me that," she turned up her nose, "letter. They detected my trouble. Really, I know how hard you worked on the House Elf Cruelty Act but these-" she sniffed in disgust. "Old Wizard's homes are cashing in on the fact that many people do not have House Elves anymore. They detect trouble and suddenly, your name is on the list. It is preposterous."

"What happened with the stove?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I may have turned it on, put sausages in and forgot about it. Luckily the fire charm sounded and I was able to rectify the situation post haste but," she shook her head. "It was terrible. A grown woman like me."

"You forget things, we all do," Hermione said. "It doesn't mean you're going senile."

"But what if I am?"

Hermione had never heard Minerva's voice so small. Hermione sipped her tea and thought about her options.

"Then, we'll cross that bridge when we need to. For now? I think you're fine but if you want I can get you a muggle telephone so you can reach me immediately?"

"Gracious," Minerva said, looking uncomfortable.

Hermione thought then that Minerva did actually seem older than Hermione knew her to be. Poppy had died suddenly and very early in Hermione's opinion, though she was not a healer. Minerva had taken it hard enough that she had viewed her own life as on the wane. She had moved into a smaller cottage and shut herself off from people, as far as Hermione knew, nearly everyone except Hugo and Rose and herself.

"Just think about it. You might like learning something new." She said it gently, but Minerva could tell she was pushing. "Rose got one for Christmas," Hermione mentioned lightly. "She could teach you. She knows more about it than I."

She let the subject drop and sat quietly nursing her tea. There was something going on inside Minerva, some change that she couldn't understand, or even reach. This new Minerva scared her somewhat; she seemed to have lost hope.

Hermione really didn't want to leave that afternoon. There had been a shift that she didn't like and the thought of leaving Minerva alone worried her. She bit her lip in the hope that she wouldn't blurt that out, hurting Minerva's feelings even more. If she hadn't have been meeting the Potters for Albus' birthday party, she would have stayed longer.

"Why don't you come with me?" Hermione said suddenly.

"Nonsense. I'm not dead yet Miss Granger," she growled.

"I know that," Hermione said, feigning hurt. "But you seem out of sorts and I thought maybe a trip to my place, new scenery," she smiled hopefully. "We could go for a meal at the pub?"

Minerva sighed and moved way, struggling to get up with the cane that she now had to use for her hip. Hermione stood and reached out her hand.

"I don't need your help."

The tone was what hurt the most, and Hermione could see the embarrassment in Minerva's face when she realised.

"I apologise."

"It's okay," Hermione said honestly. "Life has changed and Minerva McGonagall doesn't do change very well if she's honest with herself."

"Balder-bloody-dash," the older witch growled, throwing the cane on the floor. "I hate that thing, I hate feeling like this. It's overwhelming." Hermione sat back down and helped Minerva return to her position on the sofa. "I have been alive for so long and yet this is how my remaining years will play out. Plagued by pain and by sorrow and by depression. Maybe Albus was right. Death really is the next great adventure."

"Oh shut up," Hermione said sharply. "You can't be serious. The great Minerva McGonagall giving up, that's preposterous alright. What is going on with you? Why are you being like this? Poppy died, but that was three years ago and about forty years before her time. She was ill Minerva, you are not."

"I am," Minerva sniffed. "I have a diseased soul."

"Bullshit."

"Hermione, the things I have done would make you hate me. Would disgust you. You have no idea what my life was like."

"Minerva -"

"NO!" the witch screamed. "You don't know. You weren't there. Where the children were lying in the streets and the darkness was everywhere, muggle and wizard. The bombs and the terrible spells and the smell," Minerva stood, her cane forgotten which surprised Hermione so much she could do nothing but stare. "The stench of burning bodies is something you cannot ever get out of your hair and your nose and your skin. It follows you, clings to you like you will never escape it. And the retribution that I took, that we all took, was not swift and was not merciful."

Minerva's hands were shaking and she had gone a funny grey colour that Hermione could not name. She was staring at Minerva anew. It dawned on her as Minerva stood leaning on the bookshelf that she wasn't talking about the war they had fought together, rather she was talking about the war that had occurred before Hermione was born. The war that Minerva had fought when she was young, straight out of school. The war between good and evil that had shaped the whole world. The war that had paired with the muggle Second World War. The war with Gellert Grindelwald.

"Do you want to tell me?" Hermione asked carefully.

"I would not wish it upon my worst enemy," Minerva whispered, her hands still shaking. "Let alone someone I love."

"Minerva," Hermione said, getting up finally and moving to her side. "There is nothing you could tell me that would cause me to hate you, or dislike you. What happens in war is a thing that cannot be judged by normal standards. You did what you had to, and you did it for a reason, just as we did the things we had to do."

"You do not understand child," Minerva whispered, her voice now trembling as well. "You could never understand."

"I put a memory charm on my parents," Hermione said suddenly. She had not even told the boys that she had done it, at least not when she had done it. She had broken the law, and her own heart, by doing so but it was the right thing to do at the time.

"You did what?"

"Put a memory charm on my parents, over the summer holidays before Fifth Year. They're in Australia living as Wendell and Monica Wilkins." Her voice cracked as she tried to tell Minerva the next part. "They have a son and a daughter."

"Hermione!" To say Minerva was surprised was an understatement. The morose look had disappeared from her face and had been replaced with pure shock. "Fourth Year? After Voldemort." It wasn't a question and Hermione didn't answer it. "All that time, and you didn't say anything."

"To be fair, there was a lot more going on than what was happening in my home," Hermione said quietly.

"That's why they weren't there at your wedding," Minerva whispered, almost to herself. "That's why it was small and quick."

"I didn't tell Ronald, and he didn't ask. I should have known then really. It was all about him and his family, so we just had it at The Burrow and I said that because of the advancing timeline they couldn't return from wherever I told the Weasleys they were travelling."

"Oh Hermione."

"No, it's okay. I had enough money. I had them set up a savings account before they left. And they signed over the house to me before they went anywhere. I tricked them and modified their brains and did so against the law."

"It hardly compares," Minerva waved her hand like she was wafting away smoke. "Not even close, but Hermione, this is important. Your parents are well though?"

"Absolutely. They don't remember a thing and are completely loving life there. They're happy and safe and I am glad that I did it. I think had my parents been accessible, they'd have been forgotten in the maelstrom."

"I would have -"

"No, you wouldn't," Hermione said quietly. "And it's okay that you wouldn't have. Harry's aunt and uncle were moved, and that was okay, because it was Harry, and Ron's parents were protected anyway but my parents I tried to distance them from the world. And people just seemed to forget that I had parents," she laughed ironically. "Silly, but true."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. It worked out, they're safe and sound and I have you and Harry and Ginny, and the kids have you and Molly. It's fine."

"Thank you for distracting me from my thoughts," Minerva said genuinely. "I won't ask how you got around the magical age laws."

"Good," Hermione smiled. "It's best if you don't. One day you should tell me about you. You will receive no ill will from me, no matter what you did. I was not there and I cannot and will not pass judgement on a situation that I was not a part of. When you feel able to, I will be here."

"Hermione," Minerva sighed.

"I'm serious. I think it will help, telling someone so that you're not carrying it around all the time."

"Nobody should have to carry that burden," Minerva whispered.

They moved back to the sofa and sank back into it. She would need to leave soon to get to the Potters, but she was so very comfortable sitting beside Minerva like this. Really, Hermione was torn; she really didn't want to leave Minerva tonight but she had promised Albus that she'd see him on his birthday and she made it a point to make sure that all the promises she made to the kids, she kept.

"I do have to go though," Hermione said quietly.

"Of course you do," Minerva smiled. "Here." Minerva waved her wand and a small wrapped package flew into her hand from outside the living room. "Take this to young Albus, will you?"

"Of course," Hermione said happily. "You'll be okay?"

"Of course I will," Minerva blustered, calming slightly as Hermione continued to look at her. Minerva reached out her hand and patted Hermione's. "I will be, I promise."

Hermione nodded and took her leave, hugging Minerva solidly and kissing her cheek. She didn't want to leave, but she knew she had to. She made a decision that perhaps visiting once a week was not enough.