A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which is sadly, not me. I am borrowing the idea for a controlled time-turner in crystal form from Jackdawess. Thank you so much for the original idea. *bows*

This story is my biggest undertaking to date, and I only hope I can do the characters and story the level of justice I think I can. It will be mostly canon-compliant, but for a couple changes. First, what epilogue are you talking about? There was no epilogue! Second, I screw with most of Ms. Rowling's ships, and I've replaced Fred's death with Percy's. I cannot split up my lovely Twins. My most sincere apologies to any Percy fans.

Edited 28 August 2014: All current chapters (1-21) are receiving some updates to correct errors and fix some formatting issues.

This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Please let me know.

=========MM/HG=========

3 May 1998: The wee hours of the morning.

The battle was over. All the bodies had been collected and removed. The survivors had all gone home, exhausted beyond belief. Well, most of them had gone.

Hermione Granger wandered the empty grounds of the castle, having no home to which she could return. Molly had offered her space at The Burrow, but the family was in mourning over Percy, and she felt as though she would be intruding. Her parents' home had been sold when they left for Australia. She could probably have gone to Grimmauld Place, but Harry wouldn't be there, and if she was going to be alone, she certainly didn't want to do it there. Therefore, she was wandering the ruined grounds of Hogwarts, trying to find a clean and safe place to pitch her tent. She still had her little beaded bag and the tent Bill had loaned the Trio when they'd left Shell Cottage, and if she could just find the right spot, she'd set up camp for the night.

She was nearing Hagrid's hut, and saw a nearby plot of land that was mercifully clean, though its proximity to the Forbidden Forest put its safety a bit in question. It's better than nothing, she thought, shrugging. She pulled the little bag from her pocket and reached in for the tent. Throwing it into the air, she cast the charms to bring it back to full size and to secure it to the ground. Stepping closer to the open flap, she contemplated casting the wards she was used to casting during the last year, then opted against them.

She ducked into the opening to the tent, closed things up behind her, and set about putting the room to rights. It was just the one spacious room, with a large fireplace along the left wall. There was a kitchen area along the back wall to the right side, and a small bathroom to the left. There was a stack of small cots on the right side of the room, and a few pieces of well-worn furniture spaced out in the middle. It was Spartan in nature, but clean. It would do.

She pulled one of the cots out and placed it in front of the fireplace, which she then lit to dispel the chill remaining in the late-night air of early May. While the heat started to diffuse through the room, Hermione transfigured the small cot, piece by piece, into a larger and more comfortable bed. She set the thin mattress to one side and elongated and strengthened the metal frame. Once the frame was the proper size, she replaced the mattress, casting charms to thicken and widen the mattress so that it fit the new frame.

Reaching back into her beaded bag, she pulled a thin quilt out and cast similar charms on it, making it thicker and more plush, stretching the size to fit the larger mattress. She was too tired to worry about sheets, she decided, and spread the quilt over the bed.

Going back to the bathroom, she relieved her bladder and took a quick but warm shower, cleansing herself of the grime of battle. Using a combination of a thin towel and a couple mild drying charms, she dried herself and her hair, pulling the latter back into a thick plait. Stepping back into the main room, she was hit with a wave of exhaustion, all her efforts catching up to her. She climbed into the bed, snuggled into the thick, warm quilt, and fell immediately into a deep sleep.

=========MM/HG=========

She woke up slowly, feeling better rested than she'd felt in several months. She was sprawled across the bed on her stomach, her wand resting underneath her right hand; even in sleep, she wouldn't let it get out of her reach. She picked up the wand and turned over onto her back, snuggling deeper into the covers while keeping her arms free. She twirled the wand in her fingers, studying it. She hadn't had much chance to think about the fact that she was still using Bellatrix's wand. This little piece of wood and sinew had done so much damage in the hands of the Dark Witch, and it had continually fought her, up until the moment Molly had killed Bellatrix. Ever since that moment, it had warmed to Hermione, and she felt a real affinity with it now. She thought back on Ollivander's words when he'd identified the wand for them. Walnut and dragon heartstring, twelve and three-quarter inches, Unyielding. It was much different from her first Vine wand, but she knew now that she could do great things with this wand. She could feel it.

Wondering what the implications were of her feeling an affinity with a wand that had been used for so much dark magic, she resolved to ask Ollivander whether or not it would be prudent to replace it with a new one when she saw him again.

Laying the wand beside her head, she tucked her arms underneath her head, crossing them to help support the weight of it since she'd forgotten to transfigure something into a decent pillow before passing out the night before. Her brain started slipping into another train of thought: Ron.

She had finally worked up the courage to kiss him last night, and it turned out much the way she'd suspected it would. It was a very nice kiss, but not necessarily the only kind of kiss she ever wanted to experience in her life. For one, there was this lingering notion of how it would be to kiss another girl; to see if girls' lips really were softer than boys'. Ever since her time at Shell Cottage, Hermione had been dying to know what it would be like to kiss Fleur. She'd felt several attractions to different people over the years, both male and female, but only had experience with Viktor and now with Ron. Ron's kiss was ever so much nicer than Viktor's, but Hermione still felt like something was missing in it, and she wondered if it was something to do with the gender of her kissing partner.

A gentle tap at the entrance to the tent disturbed her reverie. "Hello?" A woman's voice called out, the flap parting. "Is anyone in here?" Minerva McGonagall walked through the doorway. "Oh, Miss Granger, it's you. What are you doing in a tent by Hagrid's..." her voice trailed off, stammering over her words as she quickly turned around, realizing that Hermione wore nothing under the quilt.

Hermione flushed red and burrowed deeper under the quilt. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't have anywhere else to go last night, and by the time I found a safe place to pitch the tent and then got it ready, I didn't even think about digging sleep clothes out of my bag." She reached one hand out for the beaded bag and snatched it under the cover with her, sitting up and making sure the quilt came down over all sides of her body. "If you don't mind waiting just one minute, I'll be dressed." She started digging furiously through the bag for clothes.

"Ah, take your time. I'm the one who barged into your tent unannounced." Minerva stayed facing the door, not daring to look back, her face flushed as red as Hermione's had been.

There was an uneasy silence as Hermione found and donned a tee-shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts. She lowered the quilt, having made herself decent. "You can turn around now, Professor. I'm, ah, dressed." Hermione got out of the bed and stood to welcome her Professor.

Minerva turned around and noticed that Hermione was still blushing from head to toe, and could feel that she was blushing nearly as much. Brushing off the embarrassment of finding her student in such a state, she focused in on what Hermione had said. "You said you didn't have anywhere else to go last night? I find it hard to believe that nobody had a place for you, of all people."

Hermione was busy undoing the changes she'd made to the cot, her wand moving in brief, concise shapes, the spell-words being muttered under her breath. "Well, yes of course. Molly offered me a place at The Burrow, but I'm not family and didn't want to intrude on their grief. Harry did go with them, and I didn't want to sleep at Grimmauld place alone. I had this tent and have been used to camping for the last year, so I just stayed here." She shrugged. "I didn't think I would be in the way here, and it felt … safe to be at Hogwarts, even in the aftermath of the battle." She paused for a moment, digging her fingers into the softness of the still-transfigured quilt. "I suppose it was very foolish of me, but I..." her fingers clenched harder at the quilt, and she was shaking with the effort to not cry, "after being gone for so long, it felt so good to be back here. Hogwarts has always felt more like home than anywhere else I've been. Even now, with the destruction and the stench of death all around, it's still a haven. I, I just couldn't imagine going anywhere else."

Minerva could see that Hermione was about to completely break down, and hurried to the younger witch, wrapping her arms around her, pressing Hermione's head against her shoulder. Hermione let go of the quilt and embraced Minerva with a fierce strength, grasping at the familiar green and black robes, and finally losing control of the tears that had been threatening to fall.

Long minutes passed, Minerva stroking Hermione's head while softly whispering words meant to comfort. There were lots of gentle shushes, mentions of getting it all out, some empty platitudes about how it would all be alright, and reminders to go ahead and cry. Finally, Hermione's tears began to slow, and she came back to herself. Her head was buried in Minerva's chest, tucked under the older witch's chin, the stream of comforting words still going as Minerva stroked her hair with one hand, the other holding tightly to Hermione's back around her shoulders. Her own arms were still clutching at the back of Minerva's robes, and she started to realize the position they were in. "Shh, let it all out, child, shhh." Minerva whispered, her hand making another pass over Hermione's head. Hermione could feel the warm breath on the top of her head, and her train of thought from earlier was put back on its rails.

Hermione had been dying to know how it would feel to kiss Fleur, to kiss any girl, and here she was wrapped in the arms of the witch for whom she had the most respect in the world. It was only natural to wonder what it would feel like to kiss Minerva. As quickly as the thought appeared in her mind, however, she shoved it aside, feeling her earlier flushing at being caught naked return with a vengeance.

She pulled her head back and released her grip on Minerva's robes, taking a step backward. "I'm sorry, Prof..."

"No apologies are necessary, Miss Granger." Minerva took her own step back, straightening her robes. "I suspect the aftermath of the war will cause many tears yet, and some of them likely from my own eyes. I'm only happy I could be here for you." A wistful look crossed Minerva's face as she whispered. "Nobody should ever have to cry alone." She lightly shook her head, and the stoic persona of Professor McGonagall reappeared.

Taking the initiative, Minerva banished the cot back with the others, and magically folded the quilt, sending it to lay on top of the stack of cots. She briefly inspected the chairs and found that none of them would be acceptable. Conjuring a plush, but straight-backed chair for herself, she placed it in front of the still nicely-burning fire and settled into it.

Hermione was still standing there, looking dumb-founded, but upon seeing Minerva settle into her chair, she pulled one of the existing chairs in front of the fire, facing Minerva, and settled herself into it.

"Now, I believe we were discussing your reasons for camping on Hogwarts grounds. I can understand wanting to give the Weasley family space, but I also know Molly well enough to know that if she extended the invitation, then she considers you family and is probably feeling guilty that you weren't there for breakfast this morning." Her lips twitched in humor. "You know it's her greatest goal in life to feed the masses whenever she can, and not even her own grief will be able to keep her from the kitchen."

Hermione was surprised at the mild joke, but smiled broadly at the accurate representation of her friends' mother. "She does like to cook, doesn't she?"

"Aye. However, since it is now currently past ten and you are not there, are you hungry?" Hermione nodded, her stomach making a loud grumble at the mention of food, causing her blush again. Minerva's lips twitched again, trying not to laugh at Hermione's predicament. "Well, we can't have that. Sunny!"

An old, pale House-Elf appeared, dressed in a standard tea-towel, but one which was clean and in good condition. "How can Sunny help you, Professor?"

"Good morning, Sunny. If it's not too much trouble, could we get a spot of breakfast for Miss Granger here? And tea for two, please."

"Of course, Professor. What would Missy Granger like for her breakfast? We still has lots of supplies, and the kitchens wasn't damaged too much." The elderly Elf was eying Hermione suspiciously, remembering her S.P.E.W. efforts. "Only..." she swallowed hard "...we doesn't want to receive clothes for helping the Missy. We likes to cook and clean, and we is happy to serve at Hogwarts. We is very proud to be Hogwarts Elves."

Hermione sighed, knowing she was fighting a losing battle for House-Elf rights. They just didn't want them. "Thank you, Sunny. I can respect that, and I promise no clothes." The Elf beamed at her. "Could I just get some scrambled eggs and bacon? And maybe some toast and jam?"

"Yes, Missy! What kind of jam does you want?" Sunny was excited to have someone to serve with the castle being empty, and it was showing.

"Strawberry will be perfect, thanks." Hermione still felt guilty for using House-Elves to do what she could do for herself, but the fact was that she had no food supplies in the tent, and they always did such a lovely job.

"Sunny will be right back, Professor, Missy Granger." She disappeared with a quiet pop.

Minerva glanced around the room and saw a small table set close to the kitchen area. A snap of the wand and a couple muttered words later saw it sat between the two chairs in front of the fire, cleaned, and set to an appropriate height for the tea and breakfast that was coming. A moment later, Sunny reappeared with the tea and breakfast, deposited it on the newly-placed table, and popped back out.

There was a pleasant silence between them as all this was going on, neither woman feeling the need to talk just for the sake of talking, and both knowing the conversation to come could wait until breakfast was completed.

Hermione picked up her plate, along with a clean napkin and fork, and settled back into her chair, resting the plate on the arm of the chair, and tucking in. Minerva poured tea into both cups and fixed her own, adding milk but no sugar, and without thinking, fixed Hermione's as well. She picked up the cup to hand it over and realized what she'd done.

"Oh dear. I seem to have fixed your tea the way my friend used to take hers. One sugar, no milk. How very strange." How perplexing, she thought. I haven't fixed tea for Morgan in years. She felt a twinge in her heart.

"Oh, that's fine. That's how I take my tea. What a happy coincidence!" Hermione reached out and took the cup from Minerva's hand, sinking back into her chair and watching as Minerva did the same. She took a sip, and the tea was absolutely perfect; just the way she liked it.

A few moments later, Hermione was putting her empty plate back on the tray and fixing her second cup of tea. Minerva had finished her cup and replaced it on the tray.

"Well, now that's sorted, let's get down to business. As I said, I understand not wanting to intrude on the Weasleys right now, but have you truly nowhere else to go? It just seems a bit odd to me. I would have thought you had many places to spend a night after what happened here." Minerva was worried about the young woman.

Hermione fidgeted with a loose string on her shorts, keeping her eyes down and purposefully evading Minerva's gaze. "I know Harry would have let me stay at Grimmauld Place, and Kreacher's actually quite nice now, but I didn't want to be alone there. And my parents' house," she paused to swallow past the lump in her throat, "was sold when they moved out of the country last year. And while I don't doubt that any of my friends would have given me a bed last night, I would have felt just as intrusive anywhere else as I would have with the Weasleys. I don't know... I found myself just wandering around after everyone left, and this seemed as good a place to stay as anywhere. Like I said earlier, Hogwarts is my home, or it has been. I felt safe here, and I haven't felt truly safe in a long time." Her hands rose and rubbed her face, willing the tears to stay where they belonged. She didn't want to cry on Minerva again; she'd had enough of crying.

"I hadn't realized your parents left the country, my dear. And the rest, about safety and not belonging... I understand all too well." A grim look settled on Minerva's face. "This is the third war I've survived. It's never quite as happy and easy as you'd think. Yes, Voldemort's dead, but it is by no means over. There are still Death Eaters out there, both those marked and those who weren't given that honor. Don't think that any one of them wouldn't like to get their hands on a Muggle-born or a Blood Traitor, especially one as well-known as you, Miss Granger. I know Hogwarts feels like home and safety, but until the repairs are complete and the wards reinstated, it's simply not a safe place to be, especially alone at night. For that reason, I apologize, but I must insist that you find somewhere else to stay. The Burrow would be the safest choice, but if you truly feel that uncomfortable there right now, then we will figure something else out for you."

Hermione looked crestfallen at the news that she would have to leave the castle, but she soon schooled her features to the look of determination that Minerva was used to seeing. "I'll talk to Harry, then. I'll stay with him long enough to find a place of my own. I don't want to intrude on anyone in this time, especially if my presence would bring them further danger from lingering Death Eaters. If we work together, we can repair all the wards at Grimmauld Place and possibly turn it into a livable house again." It was a good plan, she thought, and it would work. There was a bit of fire back in her eyes as she started mentally making plans to finally truly improve the old house.

"Excellent news. I know Mr. Potter will appreciate your help in setting the place to rights." Minerva was happy to see Hermione mentally making plans. It was heartening to see a bit of the old Miss Granger.

The two women sat and passed pleasurable conversation for a couple more hours, before Minerva stood and made her excuses. There was much work to do, organizing the repairs on Hogwarts and the clean-up of the grounds. There was the big question of how long it would take and whether or not the school would be reopened as scheduled in September.

As Minerva was about to leave through the tent flap, Hermione made a split-second decision and ran across the room and enfolded her Professor into a tight, unexpected hug from one side. It threw Minerva's balance off, and was the hug not quite as tight as it was, she might have fallen. As it was, Hermione's grip was enough to keep her on her feet, and after a few seconds, she reached up to gently pat Hermione's linked hands where they rested on her right shoulder.

"Thank you, Professor. For the food and the conversation and the advice, and for always being there. Thank you." Hermione pulled back from the hug and wiped the single tear that had fallen from her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

Minerva's heart was filled with emotion at this outburst. "Any time, Miss Granger. And thank you, just for being you. Good-bye, and good luck. I know you'll accomplish everything in this world you want." She turned and left the tent, feeling her solitude sharply and wishing for someone she hadn't seen for any length of time in nearly ten years. Oh, Morgan. Where are you?

=========MM/HG=========

Hermione quickly gathered up her things and set out for The Burrow. She needed to talk to Harry, and she knew that's where he'd be. It was awkward. Everyone was there, and the loss of Percy was keenly felt by all. She got Harry outside alone, and explained what she needed. He readily agreed to her plans, feeling as she did that he was intruding on the Weasleys' time of mourning.

Over the next two months, the two of them and Ginny worked together with Kreacher and completely changed the home that formerly housed the Ancient and Noble House of Black. First off, they repaired and replaced the wards protecting the house. The rest of the rogue Death Eaters were being brought in, but with it being Harry's home, and since he was currently housing Hermione as well, the security was warranted.

In a brilliant move, Hermione magically built a standalone section of plain wall and used a Switching Spell to replace the section of wall where Walburga's portrait was hung. The new wall was put in place of the old section, and the old wall, including the portrait, was made free-standing and able to be destroyed. Working with Kreacher, she used a similar charm to finally remove the Elf-heads, and gave them an honorable burial. They spent the rest of the summer cleaning and replacing everything they could, and by the time they finished, nobody would have ever suspected that the newly christened "Corrigeons Manoir" was ever the house used by the Order during the war.

Hermione would smirk when people asked about the name. "Corrigeons Manoir" simply meant "we put this house right" or "we corrected this house"; "we fixed it". In deference to the house's historical significance, they went with the word for manor or hall rather than the generic "maison" for house. Of course, it was all still quite a mouthful, and it soon became normal to hear people referring to it as "the CM."

One day in early August, Hermione was taking a break out back, enjoying a bit of sun while she read up on Magical careers, beginning to explore her options now that the house was finished. An owl dropped a letter on her lap and flew away before she could offer it a drink of water or an owl-treat.

Picking it up, she saw her own name in Emerald Green ink, and on the opposite side, the thick wax seal held the imprint of the Hogwarts coat of arms. Curious, she thought, and broke the seal. Inside the envelope was a letter offering her a place as a student for a remedial year to take the place of the horrible one endured under the leadership of Snape and the Carrows. Enclosed was a list of standard seventh-year supplies, and there was a short note added behind the supply list.

Miss Granger,

I wanted to personally extend my invitation for you to return, especially following the conversation we had pertaining to your living situation. I don't expect that everyone will return to school for this chance at properly completing their education, but I believe that if anyone does return, it will be you.

Unfortunately, as you skipped your official seventh year, and this is a special opportunity, I cannot offer you the position of Head Girl, but if you wish to return, I can offer to keep you on as a Prefect. We may be able to offer you the rooms set aside for the Gryffindor Head Girl, as the Head Girl for this year is not in our house. It would afford you a certain additional measure of privacy to which you may have become accustomed since your last stay as a student here at the Castle.

Please let me know within two weeks if you will be accepting this offer or not, so we can make our plans accordingly.

I wish you all the best either way.

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress,
Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

Of course she would go back! It was the perfect solution to her problems. She could complete her education, gain her NEWTs, and use the next year to fully explore her future career options, all without having to further impose on Harry's hospitality.

She went up to her room and sat down to pen a short reply.

Headmistress McGonagall,

I would like to begin by congratulating you on the appointment as Headmistress. I'm sure it's what Professor Dumbledore would have wanted, and you deserve it.

I would also like to accept your offer to come back and complete my education, and to live in the Head Girl's rooms. Thank you for your generosity in offering them.

I understand why you can't offer me the Head Girl position. In taking it, I would have been depriving another year's students of their opportunity to earn it, and I wouldn't have been able to do that.

If necessary, I will take the Prefect position, but unless you truly need me in the position to help train the younger Prefects, I would respectfully decline the responsibility. With Voldemort gone, I would like the opportunity to fully concentrate on my education this year, and I feel that the Prefect duties could interfere with that goal.

Thank you so much, and I will see you on 1st September.

Hermione Granger

She folded and sealed the letter, sticking it down into the pocket on her robes. She needed to pick up a few things in Diagon Alley, and would need some of the items from the supplies list as well, so she might as well use the Owl service there to deliver her letter to McGonagall.

She grabbed her beaded purse, which already contained most of her money, and would nicely hold all the supplies she picked up while she was out.

Heading back out to the back garden, she disapparated with a crack.

=========MM/HG=========

Diagon Alley was crowded, but it wasn't as bad as she anticipated it would be in a couple of weeks when all the students and parents started popping in for their own school supplies. She popped into Flourish and Blotts first, picking up the textbooks she didn't already own, and selecting a few extra books as well for personal reading. Then over into Slug and Jiggers for the potions ingredients listed. Scribbulus had her quill and ink order ready, and she added a large order of parchment that she hadn't known she would need before getting McGonagall's letter. She went ahead into the Owl Post shop and mailed her letter off to Hogwarts.

She debated for a moment whether or not she would need new robes, and decided that a new set wouldn't hurt, so on to Madam Malkin's she went. An hour later, she'd been fitted for two new sets of student robes, and had picked up a set of dress robes in a shade of palest pink with accents in charcoal grey. They looked very grown-up, but still youthful enough that at nearly nineteen, they would make her look her age; she wanted to be taken seriously, neither treated like a twelve-year-old first-year, nor like someone in their thirties or forties.

Remembering that she'd wanted to talk to Ollivander about her wand ever since the morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, she made her way back up to his shop and entered the cool dark room.

"Mr. Ollivander?" she questioned into the darkness. Only a moment passed before he popped his head around the corner of a shelf.

"Yes?" He saw who was standing in his shop, and smiled brightly at her. "Oh, Miss Granger. I thought I might be hearing from you before long. Wanting a new wand, are we?" He stepped up to the counter, still smiling.

"I'm not sure, sir. I know where this wand came from, and I know what it's done in the past, but ever since Bellatrix died, it's been easier and easier to use, and now it almost feels better than the wand you originally sold me. Is that odd? Is it a bad thing? To be able to use such a Dark wand so easily?" She set the wand down on the counter between them, her worries written all over her face.

"No, Miss Granger, of course not. I always say the wand chooses the witch or wizard. Walnut is a notoriously useful wand wood, and it is drawn to those who are highly intelligent. It is very versatile and adaptable, and will do you quite well once you've mastered it, which from what you said, you have done. If the wand is truly yours now, it will do any spell you ask it to, with no questions. It strives to learn, and loves to help in the creation of new magical items and spells. Your first wand had a very different wood, but the core is the same. Dragon heartstring yields the most power of the three cores I use, and they learn very quickly. Something I think it shares with you, which is why both of your wands have had this core material.

"The nature of the wand, Unyielding, can be associated with an inability to change at all, but in terms of matching the wand with yourself, I would say it has more to do with the fact that you have very strong principles and are unwilling to change your stance on these principles, no matter who or what might attack you for it. This has both negative and positive connotations, but I do feel that this wand is uniquely suited to you, and if you are finding it easier to use, then you have truly won its loyalty. The wand was never Dark; it only did Dark things because its previous owner wished them. I will sell you another wand, certainly, if that's what you wish, but it's not necessary."

Hermione stood there, soaking in the information as Ollivander presented it, seeing how it all applied to her and to the wand, and could see all that she could potentially do with this wand if she'd won its loyalty.

"I do wish to purchase another wand, sir, but only as a backup in case anything were ever to happen to this one. Having already lost one in the war, I don't care to take a chance on being wandless again, or on being left with a captured wand that didn't want me to use it."

Ollivander's eyes brightened up. She had answered just as he'd hoped she would. "A wise decision. The Ministry says that I am not, however, allowed to sell you a second wand. I think that if I were to give it to you, rather than selling it to you, then we shall get around that rule quite nicely." There was a twinkle in his eye that was reminiscent of Dumbledore, and it unbalanced Hermione for a moment.

"Sir, I can't take a wand and not pay for it. That's," she was interrupted.

"Quite alright. If you hadn't shown up at Malfoy Manor with Misters Potter and Weasley when you did, I wouldn't be here. You took the brunt of the damage from that visit, and it would greatly honor me if you would allow me to gift you with a spare wand. Please, Miss Granger." The twinkle had disappeared from his eye and was replaced with a sad mistiness.

"I... thank you, Mr. Ollivander. It's a wonderful gift and I am very grateful."

He nodded curtly and disappeared behind a shelf to grab a few boxes. When he came back around the corner, the mist was gone from his eyes, and his face reflected the same odd curiosity it always had. "Now, Miss Granger, if you'll put this wand away, I have a few choices that I think might suit you."

She put the Walnut wand into its loops inside the beaded bag, held close to the top where she could easily access it, then looked at the boxes Ollivander had placed on the counter.

"First up, Black Walnut with Unicorn Hair, twelve inches, reasonably supple."

She reached for the wand, but before she could even touch it, there was an air of wrong between the wand and her hand. "Ah, I don't think that one will do, sir."

He replaced the lid on its box and set it to one side. "That's a strong reaction if you felt it before you even touched it. No matter, there are more to try out. Next is Hawthorn with Phoenix Feather, eleven inches, rigid."

She picked up the wand and gave it a swish, causing red sparks to fly from its tip. She set it back in its box.

"Yes, that's another no. Let's try this one. Larch with Dragon Heartstring, nine inches, supple."

When her fingers touched the Larch wand, she felt a flood of warmth, but when she swished it around, the warmth retracted to an icy cold, turning the tips of her fingers blue. She dropped it back into its box and muttered a mild heating charm to bring her fingers back to normal temperature.

"Again, I think that's a no."

"It was strange, sir, it was very warm at first and I thought this might be the one, but then it was just like plunging my hand into solid ice." She shook her hand for a moment, making sure it was warm.

"Curious. Very curious." He looked at the other boxes he had brought out, and immediately dismissed them all. He ducked underneath the counter and dug around for a moment before bringing up a single box. It was covered in dust, which he blew into the air, making Hermione cough. "Let's try this one. It's one of the last made by my father, but I just have a feeling about it. Apple with Dragon Heartstring, ten inches, slightly yielding."

There was a feeling of anticipation on the air, and as she reached for the Apple wand, a blue spark connected the wand and her hand. As she grabbed it, there was a crack and the smell of ozone surrounded them. A rush of warmth flooded her entire body, and then it settled to her normal temperature. She gave it a gentle swish, whispering Wingardium Leviosa at a potted plant in the corner, and flicked as the pot gently rose into the air and hovered until she allowed it to slowly lower back to the floor.

"I believe we have found it, Miss Granger. My father used to speak of who would end up getting this wand, and although it didn't make sense at the time, he did say it would never be bought. Congratulations, Miss Granger. You have your new wand."

Hermione was staring at the wand. It was nearly three inches shorter than Bellatrix's Walnut wand, but it had a wonderful feel to it, as though she truly were destined to own it. She could almost hear it whispering to her mind, and it was saying "mine."

"I... thank you, sir. It is an exceedingly generous gift, especially given that your father made it." She gulped in a breath of air. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, Miss Granger. Absolutely nothing. Only, be sure to use the Walnut one when in public. We can't have the Ministry thinking I've sold you a second wand, can we?" The twinkle was back in his eye.

"No. No, of course not, sir." She opened the little bag and swapped the wands out, leaving the Apple in the loops and putting the Walnut wand back into her hand.

"My father left a message for whoever ended up with that wand. He said to be careful, and to never mismanage your time. Don't ask me what it means, because I don't know. I only know he wanted the message passed on, and I've finally been able to do that."

Hermione didn't understand the message or why it was attached to this wand, but filed it away in the back of her mind for later analysis.

"Thank you again, sir, for all your help. I should be getting home now. Take care of yourself." She smiled at him and turned toward the door.

"You take care of yourself, Miss Granger. Good day."

Before she could turn back around to smile at him, he was gone. What a strange and curious man, she thought, leaving the store. She stood outside the store for a few moments, putting her brain back in order before turning to disapparate home with a quiet crack.

=========MM/HG=========

I hope you enjoy the beginning of this. Reviews are always welcome, and yes, there is more Minerva coming.