three little words ; 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞

12. Surprise!

Hermione's POV

Hermione was sitting in the common room, reading a book--well, not reading. An old, thick book on the history of magic was displaying a picture of Nicolas Flamel.

"Hermione?" It was Ginny.

"Hmm?" She closed the book and rubbed her eyes; she was actually very tired.

"I just ran into Professor McGonagall, she said she wanted to see you."

She nodded, yawning, and left the common room, her mind tying itself into knots with questions. What does she want with me? Should I bring up my dreams with her? Should I talk about Bellatrix? What do I do?

She was just outside of the entryway to the headmistress's office. Dumbledore's old office. She thought she'd be angry that someone else was taking his place. But Hermione trusted her more than she did her friends. She could say anything and it wouldn't leave those walls. Except, well, to tell Dumbledore.

The password stumped her. What would it be? Out of pure cluelessness, she said, "Sherbet lemon!" The eagle started to turn, the stairs moving upwards. Hurrying onto the stone steps, she rose to the office. The door was ajar, and silence filled the room.

When Hermione entered McGonagall's office, she wasn't surprised. It hadn't changed a bit. It was grand and large, the Sorting Hat sitting on top of its usual bookshelf, looking smug. Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, looking through the Daily Prophet, an amused look on her face. Her pointed hat was cast aside, on the corner of her desk. Her gray hair was loosely pulled out of her frail face, a long braid cascading down her shoulder.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

McGonagall looked up. "Ah, yes, Ms. Granger. How are you today?" She folded up the newspaper and set it to the side of her, crossing her arms and leaning her elbows on the wood. "Sit, please," she said when Hermione stood there.

Hermione did what she was asked. "Um, you know that the Prophet isn't exactly...true, right?" She pointed her finger to the paper.

The Headmistress chuckled. "I am aware. I just love to see what they've decided to rant about in this issue. It's quite entertaining, really." Adjusting her position in her chair, she continued. "I have some news for you, Ms. Granger."

"News?" Hermione's voice shook.

"Don't worry, it's not bad. In fact, if I were you, I'd call it rather interesting." McGonagall reminded her of Dumbledore, the way she kept a calm face and tone. Hermione glanced in the direction of Dumbledore's portrait. He was there, in his chair, looking warmly down at her.

"Hello, Hermione." He said, looking over his half-moon glasses at her.

"Hi, Dumbledore." Hermione said lamely, but her voice was filled with tears, though there were none leaking out of her eyes.

"Not now, Albus," McGonagall chided gently, a sad smile on her face.

Hermione tore her eyes from the dead Headmaster, and looked her teacher in the eyes. "What's the news?"

"Well, it seems we are lacking Head Boy and Girl. I've looked around this term, and took your past into account. Congragulations, Ms. Granger."

"I'm--I'm Head Girl?" Hermione replied incredulously.

She nodded slightly, making Hermione beam. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed, her hands flying to her cheeks. "This is awesome! Let me go get my things! If," she added, "that's okay with you, of course."

Professor waved her on. "Go. But please send Mr. Malfoy up here."

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Of course," with a last look at Dumbledore, who was beaming at her, a thing she'd never seen him do, she waved good-bye to him. "Bye, Dumbledore."

Her hand was on the door, and she was about to step out of the office, onto the eagle's steps, when she was called back by McGonagall. "Ms. Granger?"

"Yes?" she looked back, and saw a small smile on the Head's face.

"Don't forget to get a good night's sleep tonight," she pointed her wand to a worn piece of parchment. Its black ink spread on it was impossible to forget.

"Of course," she said, blushing. She rushed out the door. Head Girl! This was a definite change, and for the better.