Hermione shook her head, her posture straight and stiff. She hoped she wasn’t confusing Minerva. She was trying not to be too obvious with her sideways glances, her discomfort. It was good to see Minerva so young, so much less tired. Alive. "Mint Flower," Hermione said, and the portrait swung open. The Fat Lady said something sharp and reproachful— she’d been talking. Hermione felt guilty for ignoring her.