Drawn ( A Dramione Story)

Truth

"Miss Granger." The headmistress was at her desk, tiny spectacles at the end of her nose, scrolls in hand. "I find it comforting to know that your house is very fitting for this tenacious behavior. However there is nothing that can be done. You must rest for the remainder of the day. No classes. That is my final word on the matter."

Hermione bit her lip. "Actually Professor, I've come with some questions. Regarding something else."

The bright red flesh of her knuckles begged her to stop the incessant wringing; they were already so tender. Her lips, too, ached. Constant chewing hadn't helped them survive. Anxiety practically seeped out her pores.

There was no other way to receive the information she needed, and quite frankly, it was the worst punishment to reveal to a former Head of House just what a former student now spent her time doing. And who. Dante was well within rights to add it as the final circle of hell.

The headmistress was momentarily surprised. A few wrinkles fell limp at her cheeks. They were sure to stay as the conversation carried on. Then in a tight pucker, a verbal thrashing would come. Hermione knew it well thanks to Harry and Ron's constant mischief. It would be the worst it'd ever been. She wholly deserved it.

Professionalism always paramount, McGonagall gestured a welcome to a seat in front of her. The desk was much more modest than when it was Dumbledore's office. He preferred a great large desk stuffed with lots of secrets. It had loomed overhead those who entered his office as a commanding space, a general's station above the underlings.

Wizards.

At least McGonagall was more practical. She had an organized desk, great size but not overly so, books, a perfectly planned calendar and three orbs of soft light that made the entire space less forbidding since it was the office of the highest personnel in the school. The position demanded prestige.

As for the command of station, the headmistress herself was plenty for the duty. She was known for her firm hand in education. Even her work with troublemakers was known since Gryffindor often held most of them. A glare from those piercing eyes was enough to stop the trouble immediately. It was a quality Hermione utilized in her own practice of tending to the boys as they navigated through years of schooling like a couple of...teenage boys. It was no easy task.

McGonagall was a strong witch.

Not to say there was no soft side to the woman. She had a fondness in her heart for all students that truly embraced what Hogwarts was for: education. Her matronly wisdom gave many students like Hermione Granger a very open policy on their pursuits of knowledge acquisition.

Plus she hired competent teachers. That made the woman remarkable.

Hermione settled into an overstuffed brown chair as the headmistress ordered tea. Of all the things Hermione was, she wasn't thirsty. It was just a way to buy time. Perhaps another way could be arranged so that she might gathered the information she needed without having to admit her darkest secrets to her oldest and most respected role model. However, none presented itself.

"It has been a quiet year at Hogwarts," McGonagall remarked in an offhanded way. "One of the quietest in quite a while."

She forced a smile. "I expect it has."

"That's not to say it is without drama."

"It is a school, professor," Hermione reminded. "A little drama is healthy, I suppose. There was so much of it in my younger years when we had more important things to worry about. These days it must seem a reprieve to have drama about boys rather than terror."