A Special Place
The very first time Minerva McGonagall saw Hermione Granger, she was 11 years old. Augusta Hornby had been chatting non-stop in that high-pitched voice of hers in the 1st year Gryffindor girls dormitory, and Minerva had had enough. Scowling at the precocious girl she was to spend the next 7 years alongside, the gangly first-year had stalked out of the dormitory and went to the library, despite it being close to curfew. Professor Dumbledore had told her that the library a refuge for those that wanted a brief respite from the annoyances of reality, and really, that was what she needed.
She was homesick, she missed her little brothers, and tomorrow, she would be spending her birthday alone in a spooky old castle with the likes of Augusta, and Imogen Prewett, and Prudence Graves for company.
The Lord was truly testing her. Or, Merlin was, as she should say now.
She didn't know how long she had been curled up in the furthest corner of the library, completely out of sight with an ancient copy of Hogwarts: The Concept of Gryffindor in hand, but she realised that she must have completely missed the library being closed. She had hidden herself as to not be disturbed, she almost laughed at the fact that the eagle-eyed librarian, Mr. Commins, hadn't seen her.
Carefully tip-toeing to see if the caretaker was about, it was then, just out of the corner of her eye, that she noticed light seeping out from underneath the bookshelf in the far corner. Despite being a first year who knew very little about magic, Minerva drew her wand as the flash of a frown crossed her slightly pointed features. Even though she now believed anything was possible, even she knew that light didn't shine from under a bookshelf. Not unless there was something behind it other than a dark, cold, grey stone wall that had no light emitting powers.
Theoretically, of course. Maybe stones did emit light in a magic castle. Who was she to know?
Instead of going back to the Gryffindor common room and leaving this mystery for another day, Minerva decided to take a closer look. As she got closer, fir wand tip lit, she noticed that this bookshelf looked different to the other ones. It was made of stone, but it was clearly carved to look like wood to blend in with the others. And it had an arched top, and despite the different size books it was filled with, there was a straight line down the middle, almost like a-
"It's a door," she breathed, running her fingers over the books. Even they were stone, she realised, and she couldn't for the life of her make out the pretend titles in the feeble light from her wand.
"Curiosity killed the cat," she murmured, curling her free hand into a fist, overcome with the urge to do what anyone would do at finding a closed door.
She knocked.
And the door opened of its own accord, revealing blazing sunshine to be the cause of the light she had seen through the cracks of the stone.
Staring around with wide green eyes, Minerva's mouth fell open. She was standing next to the Great Lake, which sunlight was bouncing off of, yet the further she looked, she could see that the scenery morphed several hundred metres in, changing from delightfully green grass and murky water to a standard – albeit quite large – Hogwarts classroom. Worn desks and all, chalk boards and bookshelves. The door she had just walked through was merely placed on a non-descript area of grass, as if it was a piece of garden furniture.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Minerva jumped, and promptly regained control of her lax jaw. She was surprised to see an older Hogwarts student waving at her from beneath the tree closest to her, with at least half a dozen books scattered on the grass around her. As Minerva approached the girl, she noticed that she also had a copy of the book on Hogwarts' history Minerva herself had been reading in the library.
Minerva was also absolutely positive that she had not seen this girl around the castle before, despite the Gryffindor robes she wore. Although they were slightly different to the ones she'd seen so far.
"Welcome to one of the seven wonders of Hogwarts – the Room of Catvrix," the girl said, patting the ground next to her as an invitation to sit. "It appears only to those worthy," she added, with a waggle of her eyebrows.
Minerva blinked at the girl, who had rather curly hair and a kind smile. "Worthy?" she asked.
The girl gave a knowing smirk. "There was a warning, but like me – and the rest of us here – I'm assuming you took no heed?" she asked, picking up Hogwarts: The Concept of Gryffindor and flicking to the fading author's note on the second page. She held it up to Minerva, tapping just underneath the script.
Beware the bold, the brave, the free, the strong. Catvrix appears only to those worthy.
Blanching slightly, Minerva tried to keep herself calm. "As if anyone would take that seriously," she tried to reason. "It's a mistranslation, anyway – the 'v' should be a 'u' in 'Catvrix'," she added, as if that justified the whole debacle.
Maybe this was a dream. Maybe she'd just fallen asleep in the library, and would be woken up by a Professor at any moment. Hogwarts didn't have hidden rooms that went on forever – that would be impossible.
"I know – drives me mad, too," the girl chuckled, before extending her hand. "Hermione Granger, by the way," she added, as Minerva shook hands with her.
For her part, Minerva remained silent. She had half a mind to head straight back out the door and hope she ended up in the library. Did doors move like the staircases? she wondered, feeling a chill at the thought.
It seemed as though Hermione either didn't notice, or was at ease with Minerva's silence, because she continued on with her explanation as if nothing was amiss. "This room," she said, gesturing around, "Exists outside of linear time and space. Timelines merge, date and time are irrelevant – whenever we enter, the room manages to send us to wherever we need, or are needed, even if we don't know what we're searching for ourselves. Personally, I just like to study here, or ask advice from the others. You'll come to learn that we're all, well, special. Or we will be, anyway." She smiled, and fell silent, letting Minerva absorb the information she had just been handed.
It was only now that Minerva noticed that there were indeed other people in the room. Or by the Lake/classroom hybrid; she wasn't sure what she was meant to be calling it. Some were swimming, some were casting spells, others were lying about reading. It was all rather lovely. "I wanted peace and quiet," Minerva confessed, recalling why she had secluded herself in the library in the first place. "But I really think I should be going now. I don't think I should be here. This really doesn't make much sense, Miss Granger," Minerva said after a while, unsure if being 'worthy' and 'special' enough to be in this room was a good thing or a bad thing, or if it was indeed real or if this was all just a dream. It sounded…well, it sounded mad, and a bit elitist, which was something Minerva wouldn't succumb to, no matter how pretty the scenery was.
"Nothing at Hogwarts does, really," Hermione said dryly. "I get it, though, I really do," Hermione assured her kindly as Minerva stood up, fully intending to leave. "I thought I was mad the first time I found this place, too."
"I don't think I'm mad," Minerva said, a little too defensively. She prayed her cheeks remain pale and not give away her internal thoughts.
Hermione gave an annoyingly knowing smile as she stood up as well. "Yes you do, little one. But I'll tell you a secret; all the best people are."
It was only after Minerva was safely curled up in the 1st year Gryffindor girls dormitory, still convinced she had merely fallen asleep in the library and dreamt the whole Catvrix Room's existence that she realised the girl had used an exact quote from Minerva's favourite childhood book. She wasn't sure whether to add that to the list for or against her madness, but she knew one thing for certain: she was determined to find a way to access the school records and find this Hermione Granger person, come Hell or high water.
To Minerva's utter annoyance and confusion, she could find no trace of the names Hermione or Granger anywhere, not even in the darkest recesses of the trophy room, or in the 'previously checked out by…' piece of parchment in the Hogwarts book they both clearly had an affinity for. She gave a distrustful glare to the far left corner of the library whenever she was within the vicinity, refusing to let herself look for too long lest it be confirmed to be made of stone rather than wood. She had been deliberating with herself for months whether to go back into the room or not – despite her best efforts to the contrary, she had failed to convince herself it was a dream – and was still not willing to risk looking like a fool and knock on a bookshelf. The mere thought of someone witnessing that sent shivers down her spine. She was already a bit of an out-cast, she didn't want to do anything to cement her situation. Her only saving grace was her flying talent – apparently, it was the one class one was allowed to be best in without being classified as a 'know-it-all' and 'teacher's pet'.
It was the final week of the school year when Minerva decided that she had to know – had to know – if she had just imagined the whole thing or not. And with everyone else busy with last minute packing, she knew she wouldn't be missed if she disappeared for a little while. Luckily, with exams all over, the library was scarce, even in the middle of the afternoon.
After making sure Mr. Commins was busy at the front dealing with over-due books, Minerva took a deep breath and approached the accursed bookshelf, which was, indeed, made of stone, with fake stone books just as she remembered. Damn. Nevertheless, she knocked, and the doors swung open obediently. She smoothed over her tartan dress as she walked in, and was once more greeted by the sight of the never-ending room that was split into the Hogwarts grounds, and Hogwarts classroom.
"Oh, bother," Minerva sighed to herself, although really, deep down, she wasn't surprised. She was just stubborn. And had desperately tried to cling to the hope that at least time had meaning in this strange wizarding world. But no, it seemed to be that the entire wizarding population was above muggle and God alike. It was disconcerting.
There were quite a lot of students using the room this time. There appeared to be a duelling competition going on, and a snack table had been set up for the spectators. She couldn't see the curly-haired Hermione anywhere, but decided to take a walk around anyway. It couldn't hurt, could it?
She didn't get very far until her presence was noticed by the student taking bets on the match. "Hey, new girl! Come over!" the boy called to her, beckoning her over. "Who do you think will win – 13 year old Dumbledore, or 12 year old Lufkin?"
Minerva froze at the recognition of both names – Dumbledore was her Transfigutation Professor, and the only Lufkin she knew of was Artemisia, who was from the 1700's, famous for being the first female Minister for Magic. "D-Dumbledore," she managed to say, which elicited a cheer from half the gathering. He did, after all, defeat Grindelwald, the darkest Wizard of all time. And he did just give her 130% on her exam. She couldn't resist getting a glance at what the most powerful Wizard of all time looked like at her age, and almost laughed at the shockingly ginger hair he sported. Very much unlike the grey-streaked auburn her Professor had in the real world.
She stayed to watch the duel, despite being disappointed that the room didn't provide who she needed. That feeling soon faded as the young Dumbledore and Lufkin started showing off the advanced skills they had for their age. It came to a rather adorable end when Lufkin won by transfiguring a rock on the ground into a kitten, and threw it at Dumbledore while yelling 'Catch!', which made him drop his wand to catch the feline before it hit the ground.
A shocked silence fell, before someone started laughing, which soon spread, and Minerva found herself joining in. Really, it was a sneaky thing to do, but it certainly won the duel. Even Dumbledore was laughing. "A cheating Hufflepuff?" he called, kitten cradled protectively in his arms.
"You forget my hatstall, Mr. Dumbledore," Lufkin teased him, shooting a wisp of smoke into the air which morphed into a snake.
"You damned Slytherin," he replied, ceding the duel with a bow. "Oh, and I'm keeping the cat," he informed her, petting the small ball of black fur that was burrowing in his cloak.
This is far too strange, Minerva thought, and turned to go. It was then that she noticed the girl standing next to her, about her age, longer and frizzier hair, different teeth, but the resemblance was uncanny. It was Hermione Granger, only younger.
It took Minerva a moment to come to terms with this new information. Time was well and truly broken in this room. And seeing her well and truly cemented things. She suddenly felt angry at herself for avoiding it for so long, especially if watching this style of duelling was a common occurrence.
"Oh, Min, it's you!" Hermione said, and Minerva internally chided herself for staring at her for so long. "Sorry, I don't think I've seen you this young before. It still does my head in, this timeline stuff. How awesome was that duel? Sia's just incredible, have you met her yet? I mean, I know you're friends later, but…"
Before she knew it, Hermione had taken Minerva with her to congratulate the future Madam Minister, and the three were sitting down on the jetty, dipping their toes in the water and laughing as Artemisia told them what Hogwarts was like in the 1760's, where superstition was rife and Muggle infrastructure was beginning to make the wizarding world wary.
"But I know we need not worry," Artemisia said in her strangely formal English, "For the people in this room are proof that the world continues its rotation, and Wizardkind stop acting so foolishly with these repeated plagues over the centuries."
It was a while later, after Artemsia had left, that Hermione had informed Minerva that 'plague' wasn't just a figure of speech for 'bad luck'. "Even the Great Fire was set by anti-Muggle extremists, although the wizarding history books omit that little fact, don't they?" she asked irritatedly, although Minerva had a feeling the grumbling was more Hermione thinking out loud than wanting an answer.
"Anyway," Hermione said, after they had both put their shoes and socks back on, "How are things on your end of Hogwarts? Have you told Professor Dumbledore about finding the Room yet?"
"No, I-" Minerva said, before pausing for a moment, "No, this is only my second time here."
Hermione looked as though a switch had been flicked in her mind and, to Minerva's utter surprise, she was suddenly engulfed in a hug.
"I'm so glad you came back!" Hermione said excitedly, practically jumping up and down with Minerva still doing her best to resist the embrace. "You took your time, by the way," she added, with a smirk. "And older you told me to tell you that, so don't shoot the messenger," she said, stepping back and grinning.
"Yes, well," Minerva said, feeling rather awkward, "I'm rather stubborn."
"I know," Hermione said pointedly. "Anyway, I'd better be off, we have a strict curfew at my Hogwarts right now," she said, giving Minerva another hug, this time in fare well. To Minerva's surprise, she found herself returning it. It was rare that someone other than family was so at ease with her. "Come back again soon, yeah? Promise?"
Minerva nodded, having been won over by the room. Her mind was spinning with the amount of knowledge she could learn from its other frequent visitors! "I promise," she said sincerely, giving a smile.
"And tell the Professor!" Hermione yelled over her shoulder as she hurried to the door back to the school.
Minerva watched her go, before deciding to look around a bit more. It seemed as if the room had a replica of every single book contained in the Hogwarts library throughout history, but she found that anything that looked too futuristic she was unable to read – the pages all turned blank the minute she opened the book. "What strange magic," she thought.
She left soon after, realising she should probably get back for the farewell feast, although she had a stop to make first. She hurried down to the Deputy Headmaster's office and knocked on the door, still replying Artemisia's dramatic screech of 'Catch!' and the shocked face of teenaged Albus Dumbledore having a cat thrown at him.
"Miss McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore greeted, pleasantly surprised. He stepped back to allow her entry to his office. "Do come in."
"Thank you, Sir," she smiled, "I just have a question."
"Only one?" Professor Dumbledore asked, mock-disappointment lacing his words.
Minerva laughed, before asking, "Do you still have the cat?" rather pointedly.
It took him a moment, but Professor Dumbledore let out a fond laugh. "Fitzherbert!" he called to no one in particular, although a moment later, Hermione saw a black kitten come running through the back wall and leap onto Professor Dumbledore's outstretched arm. After petting the animal for a moment, he offered it to Minerva.
Mouth agape, Minerva stared from him to the kitten in awe, before she reached out to pet Fitzherbert.
"A work of magical art from one of the finest witches this world has ever known," Professor Dumbledore said fondly, as Fitzherbert moved his chin so that Minerva could scratch him in the right spot. "Catvrix has served us well for centuries, Miss McGonagall," he informed her, although his voice was softer than his normal teaching tone. "Do find solace in it, as many of us have before, and after, you. And do forgive my teenaged self for his antics," he added. "I was, shall we say, as pragmatic as a dungbomb at times."
In her second year at Hogwarts, Minerva kept the promise she had made to herself, and to Hermione Granger, and did indeed visit the Catvrix Room quite often, in between her quidditch training. She encountered many different variations of Hermione, and she guessed that the same could be said for her friend. Occasionally they were the same age, and Minerva had come to enjoy those encounters most of all. Homework at Hogwarts hadn't seemed to change much from whatever era Hermione was from.
She did notice, however, that the older her friend from some point in the future was, the more stressed and frazzled she seemed. She'd guessed that Hermione's sixth year was particularly awful, given how thin she was, and how many books on advanced defensive magic she had on her person at any one time. "I wish this room didn't throw us out if we talk about specifics from where we're from," a 6th year Hermione told Minerva one day. "We could fix so much…"
Minerva had frowned at that. Of course, she felt quite mature for a second year to currently be talking to a sixth year prefect as if they had known each other for years, but she was determined to help. "Well, if you know me wherever you're from, I'm sure you can just bang on my front door and tell me to help you," she said, half joking, half serious.
Hermione, who like Minerva was lying down on the steep bank of the lake, turned her head and grasped Minerva's hand. "You are already doing far too much. You are fucking amazing where I am," she laughed, a genuine smile crossing her face for the first time that day. A moment later, Hermione had retracted her hand and placed it over her eyes to shield them from the sun. "Damn, I probably shouldn't swear so much around you, you're 12 for crying out loud," she said, exasperated with herself.
"Oi, I'm 13," Minerva corrected with a huff, which made Hermione laugh. Minerva wasn't quite sure what was so funny, but seeing Hermione laughing like a mad woman was priceless in itself. It was like her worries were gone for a moment, and she looked like an ordinary teenager.
"Oh, darling Min," she said after calming down and wiping tears from her eyes, "Never change."
Minerva, however, had just realised what Hermione had said. "Wait, hold up," she said, propping herself up on her elbow. "You know me where you're from? Not just the 7th year version of me?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, shit," she breathed, realising what she had said. "Um. Yeah. Kind of. I can't say too much, the Room might get angry," she laughed. "But yes, I know you, and you know me, and you've insinuated our history only once in the, ahem, x amount of time I've known you."
Minerva lay back down. "That's weird," she said. "Just like me knowing Al here, and Professor Dumbledore out there."
"Oh, I know him, too," Hermione said lightly. "That really is weird, believe me." She laughed again, whether at the ridiculousness of the room, or at the Al/Professor Dumbledore she knew, Minerva did not know. What Minerva did know, however, was that her second year at Hogwarts was ending rather quickly, and she wouldn't be able to see Hermione for two whole months. She savoured this moment, lying next to her friend, who seemed to be doing much the same. Whatever Hermione was living through, Minerva did not know, but clearly, a different version of her did. They were in this together, whatever this dastardly future was.
It was a few days later when Minerva got a slight indication of her possible future connection with Hermione. A first year version of her friend was in the classroom part of the Catvrix, going through glossary after glossary on books of notable wizards throughout history. When Minerva offered help, Hermione had struggled with words, which was unusual.
"Just give me a name, who are you looking for?" Minerva asked. "Honestly, you're saving me from putting up with Augusta going on about Hornbill Longbottom in 4th year."
Hermione pursed her lips. "I can't tell you," she said, "Because then you'll know and you'll try to stop me, and honestly, I feel more and more like this whole thing is a trap and-"
"Hermione, breathe!" Minerva ordered, as her friends voice grew more and more high-pitched with every word. "Calm down. I know I'm just as bad sometimes, but Christ, woman," she teased. "An initial, then, before you tear this library apart with your own two hands."
Hermione, who was calmer, but still agitated, deliberated for a second. "F," she said finally. "And that's all you're getting!" she said, shooting a glare at Minerva, before returning to the pile of books she'd yet to get her hands on.
Minerva arranged the books, glossaries opened to the 'F' section, next to Hermione, who would glance at them occasionally, clearly knowing exactly who or what she was looking for. The books barely lasted five seconds under her gaze before she handed them back, shaking her head. "Nope, not there," she said each time the pages disappointed her.
Hermione left a while later, and Minerva followed quickly, wanting to fly around the quidditch pitch once more before her broom would be locked away.
It was late November in Minerva's third year that she'd seen the stressed sixth year Hermione once again, but she was fairly sure Hermione didn't see her that time. Minerva and Artemisia were debating whether divination was a worthwhile subject when Hermione quite literally crashed through the door and made a beeline for the exceedingly intolerable 7th year Albus Dumbledore. The Professor had been correct in his description of his teenaged self – pragmatic as a dungbomb indeed – yet for some reason, Hermione practically threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder.
Even an arrogant prat like Al knew when someone in the midst of a crisis, and Minerva and Artemisia both watched on warily as Albus tried his best to comfort her. Despite herself, though, Minerva felt a slight twinge of jealousy at the fact that her friend and Al Dumbledore were so entwined – he even had his hand in her mess of curls while he held her so close. Hermione had never hugged her like that, and they were meant to be best friends.
Stop it, Min, she told herself angrily, not in the mood for these feelings to resurface once more.
By now, Al was trying to shoo everyone else away who had come to watch. It took a few more minutes, but he must have convinced her to go back to her Hogwarts, because he was slowly inching her closer to the door, her weight on him completely. Minerva and Artemisia exchanged mutual looks of deep concern, but let Al prod her back to her own Hogwarts anyway. This room was not an escape from reality, and they all knew it, only Minerva was fairly certain that this was the closest any of those present had ever come to seeing someone try.
Al was suddenly the Head Boy Minerva had once expected him to be – strong in the face of concern – and he called everyone over for an impromptu meeting.
"I think we all know that entry to this room is usually for those with notable futures," he said once everyone had gathered in a circle on the grass. "Some of us will fight in wars, some of us will succeed those wars, some of us will die young, it is all inevitable. But I believe that Miss Granger is one of the few of us fighting a war while a student here, and we all must be aware of that from now on. We cannot prevent it, but we can support her when she needs us to."
"This place," he continued, "The Room of Catvrix, was named after a God of War. A number of us have names with similar connotations. Make of that what you will, but I think we all know we are here for a reason – to help us prepare for what's ahead in our own lives. It's not an easy road, not for any of us, but I know for a fact that there are people here who have shaped the history of our world. And I think Hermione Granger will be one of them, too, whenever she is from."
Minerva agreed completely, but her concern for Hermione was growing. Just what was she living through? Surely, with all the brilliant minds in this room, they could think of some way to help?
Minerva stayed away from the Catvrix Room for a while. Her feelings were muddled, she was busy training for Quidditch, and she was concerned about a future that was absolutely out of her control. She wasn't sure she wanted to be in a future where she would be in a war. Couldn't she just be Min, the Scottish girl with the strange name in Caithness like she was for the first eleven years of her life?
In her wanderings of the castle in the chill of the February air, her feet had somehow lead her directly to Professor Dumbledore's office. She wasn't sure what she could even say to him, or if she wanted to talk to him at all. She was about to go when the man himself opened the door, and gave a jump of surprise to see his student there.
"Minerva," he said, regaining his composure quickly, "Do come in. I've been wondering if you would stop by."
Minerva frowned. "Why?" she asked.
Professor Dumbledore sighed, and gestured for her to sit in one of the arm chairs by the fire. "A number of your Professor's – myself included – have been worried about you recently. Is there anything wrong? Anything at all?"
As Professor Dumbledore sat in the chair opposite her, Minerva deliberated as to what to say. "I fear for the future," she said after a long while, "And I believe that fear is sending me slightly barmy, Professor."
Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly, and waved his hand at the fire place to add a fury to the feeble flames. "I understand, Minerva, but that needs to stop," he said slowly, and deliberately. "You can't lose yourself in a world not yet created."
"But that's just the thing, Professor," she said sadly, "Whatever you and Hermione are involved in, I'm in it, too. And that scares me, because Hermione has been talking about a war since her-"
"Minerva, don't," Albus said sharply. "I can't know. Our lives are entwined, yes, but they wont be for many years to come. And when that time comes, we will work to the best of our ability. You know we can't change the future, just as we can't change the past."
"I know," Minerva sighed sadly. "I just wish…"
Professor Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "I wish it, too. Don't dwell on worries and forget to live, Minerva. I don't think Hermione would want that for you."
Minerva didn't go back to the Room until the day before the end of year train ride to London. She had tried to forget it all, and just focus on quidditch and school work until she felt strong enough to face it all again. Professor Dumbledore had also been keeping a close eye on her, and had remarked recently that she was looking 'much better these days'. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to look him in the eye since she overheard Imogen and Prue, her dorm mates, talking to each other late at night about how they fancied him, and started listing what they thought he looked like under his tailored suits. Minerva had never wanted to learn how to self-obliviate more.
It was that conversation that made her want to go back to Catvrix, because she wanted to tell Hermione the latest horrors she was forced to endure at Hogwarts. The younger Hermione's were always eager participant in these conversations.
She knocked on the fake stone bookshelf and stepped through the self-opening door, and was pleased to see that nothing had changed in her absence. Given all the timelines were converged, she wondered if her absence was even noticed, but before that train of thought got out of hand, she pushed it away and focused on trying to spot Hermione's distinctive curly hair.
She was embarrassed and ashamed of the amount of times she replayed the image of Al lacing his fingers through Hermione's curls, only she imagined it was her doing it. She wasn't quite sure what that meant, and kept those fantasies to herself, but it still felt both wrong and right at the same time.
Luckily, before her intrusive thoughts took hold once more, she caught sight of Hermione, Artemisia, Pandora, Marco and Oswald, playing Exploding Snap.
"Min!" Hermione called over, waving from where she was sitting on the grass. Minerva guessed Hermione was about a year or so older than her, judging by her hair style, but she looked well. "Come play!"
Minerva hurried over, and sat next to Hermione, and pulled her into a rib-cracking hug. She didn't let go for far too long, and was not in the slightest bit embarrassed about it.
"You ok, Min?" Hermione whispered.
"Yeah," Minerva managed to lie, "Just missed you. Haven't been here in a while." She let Hermione go and gave her a smile, before looking around to see what ages her friends were. Artemisia was shockingly young, while Fredrick was the oldest Minerva had ever seen him. Pandora, no matter what age she was, always had those ridiculous radish earrings on, and she'd seen them so frequently she no longer thought of them as strange.
"Missed you too," Hermione said sincerely, holding Minerva's hand. Even when Hermione had her hand supporting her weight on the ground, Minerva noticed it was never far from her own. Sometimes, even their fingers touched, and Minerva felt happy. She added this new development to the list of things to ponder about over summer, and relished in the fact she had a few uninterrupted hours of fun with her friends.
At the start of her fourth year, Minerva had made herself promise she wouldn't visit The Room as much as she used to. She had started using it as her refuge, when she realised she needed to learn to handle her problems without going to what she had come to think of as Narnia. She shouldn't be counting long-dead Ministers of Magic or Aurors from the 1600's as her closest friends. There was a real world that she had been neglecting for far too long. She set herself a goal to make more of an effort to spend time with her classmates, and her quidditch teammates, and even try to understand her roommates and their inane chatter.
However, in February, Minerva was once again in the library long after curfew had passed – a frequent habit of hers because there were just so many books – when she shot a glance at the stone bookshelf. She'd noticed that no one ever actually went near it, which made her think that maybe only she could see it, but she'd yet to investigate that properly. Making a note to ask Professor Dumbledore if he'd ever done any research on it, she decided one visit couldn't hurt. And she had been more sociable with the real world so far this school year, so she reasoned she deserved some sort of reward.
The Room of Catvrix was the same – or as stagnant – as ever. The same people, all in their little groups. They were all like a family, and once more, Minerva wondered just how this room functioned. She remembered last year, Hermione had likened it to a 'tardis', and then told Minerva it would be a few decades until she understood that reference. Pandora, however, another one from the future, had burst out laughing, and agreed with the comparison.
Spotting a young Artemisia and an even younger Hermione, Minerva headed over, hoping that these incarnations of her friends had met her. Behind the was Pandora, radish earrings as ridiculous as ever.
"Oh, Min!" Pandora said excitedly, "Hermione's on one of her quests again. Up for a challenge?"
Minerva almost laughed, remembering what young Hermione was like when she was searching for something. "What are we looking for now?" she asked.
"The Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said. "Were you at Hogwarts when it was opened?"
Minerva shook her head, trying to recall the bits and pieces she knew from hearing about it from other students. Personally, she didn't know if it was real or not, but she remembered one of the Hogwarts legends used to scare first years was about a girl who died in the Chamber of Secrets, although other stories said it was in a bathroom. Really, it was obvious it was just a way to keep people from going into the bathroom on the third floor, which was under construction. "No, I wasn't – it's just a myth, isn't it? To scare first years?" She looked around, and was pleased to see that at least Artemisia was nodding.
"Indeed," Artemisia said. "But surely a look through the history books could not hurt, could it? For a mention of what could cause such injuries?"
Minerva froze. "Injuries? Just what is going on, Hermione?" she asked sharply.
Hermione looked taken aback for a moment, before coming to her senses. "Students are being petrified, and there was a message written in blood announcing that 'the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware'. No one knows what's going on," she finished sadly, shaking her mass of bushy hair.
Minerva gave the young girl a sympathetic shoulder rub. "We'll figure it out. To the books!" she announced, leading their little group over to the library the room provided.
It was to no avail, however, and several hours later, they were still no closer finding anything in the history books about a secret chamber built by Salazar Slytherin. Minerva still wasn't convinced it was real, but she knew Hermione wouldn't make something like this up. She wished she could ask Professor Dumbledore, but she had no guarantee of returning to the same Hermione as she was currently with. Damn this confusing place, she thought, shooting an angry glare at the sky, before picking up yet another book.
"Oh, my gosh," she heard Hermione breathe to her right.
Minerva looked up. "Found something?"
"Yes, I…" Hermione ripped a page of a book out and scribbled something on the aged parchment. "I have to go – thank you, everyone, for your help-" she was on her feet and running for the door before any of the others had a chance to say farewell.
"Hermione, wait!" Minerva called, but it was too late – she had already disappeared through the door, back to her own Hogwarts.
"Fowle, Feathered and Fanged," Pandora quoted the title of the book Hermione had ripped the page from. "How curious."
Not for the first time, Minerva held concern over what sort of Hogwarts Hermione came from. By the look on Pandora's face, it was clear she had the same thoughts. As she left the Room and headed back into her own Hogwarts, Minerva had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach – she wished Hermione had told them what she'd found.
Minerva's visits to the room became somewhat more normal after that. She and Artemisia continued their usual argument about Divination being offered, Hermione watched on while studying – and often joined in the debate to agree that it was a waste of time – and Pandora was still creating spells and talking about creatures that Minerva was sure even Newt Scammander didn't believe in. Even Oswald and Fredrick, who weren't there nearly as often as the girls were, had learned to avoid bringing up anything related to creatures and conspiracies around Pandora.
They were an odd little group, but Minerva wouldn't change them for the world.
It was during one of these visits in May, when Minerva was trying to avoid one Rufus Scrimgeour (who had developed some sort of a crush on his fellow Quidditch chaser), that she, Artemisia and Pandora were almost baffled to find a very young, very curious and slightly nervous Hermione. Just the last week, it had been a second year Artemisia that had had her first visit to Catvrix, and Minerva almost laughed at the pattern forming.
Remembering her own first encounter with the room, Minerva decided to mimic what Hermione had told her all those years ago. "Impressive, isn't it?" she asked the young first year.
"It's … I …" Hermione started, seemingly unable to find the words as she gazed around in wonder. She spun around, looking past the door and into the forest behind it, before turning to face Minerva. "Are there secret rooms everywhere in this castle?" she asked.
"There's a few," Minerva answered, with a grin. "Welcome to the Room of Catvrix. It appears only to those who are worthy, so congratulations."
Hermione frowned. "Cat-ur-ix," she corrected. "That book was wrong, too…"
Minerva couldn't help but laugh at this smaller version of her friend. Hermione had warned her that she was a know-it-all at times. "Oh, little one, you are going to love this place," she told Hermione, placing her arm around her small little shoulders to give her a tour, and trying to explain to an incessantly curious first year muggle-born how Catvrix worked. It took a while, and Pandora and Artemisia kept giggling to themselves over by the oak tree, but eventually, Hermione seemed to have accepted the confusing existence of this room.
A fact that Pandora was more than happy to tease Minerva over.
Minerva rolled her eyes, and at Hermione's confused glance between the two older witches, explained. "I thought I was mad for the better part of nine months and refused to come back here," she admitted, amidst Pandora and Artemisia stifling their laughter. "You'll eventually run into younger me here; tell her she took her time."
"And be rude about it!" Pandora chimed in.
Once more, Minerva rolled her eyes. "Ignore them, they're mad," she said bluntly.
"All the best people are," Hermione smiled.
"Lewis Carroll!" Minerva gasped, remembering Hermione saying the same thing to her over four years ago.
Hermione nodded, beaming. "My favourite author," she said.
"Mine, too," Minerva told her, still slightly bewildered. This room was like a self-fulfilling prophecy sometimes, she thought idly as the four of them sat on the ground for a while longer. There were others by the lake, and in the classroom – she was fairly sure she saw Al Dumbledore and his group head into the forest for some ungodly reason – and pointed out a few notable faces to their newest Catvrix member.
It was strange, Minerva thought later that evening as she got ready for bed in Gryffindor Tower, that while she first met Hermione Granger almost five years ago, Hermione Granger had only just met her now.
And yet, they already had so many memories together, memories that the Hermione she'd just spent the afternoon with had yet to experience. She wondered if she should have warned the girl about her future – that it wasn't going to be as happy as a muggleborn would expect a life of magic to be.
In the time since Minerva had seen a broken Hermione hugging Al, she'd come to accept that there was something big brewing, something that she doubted anyone was truly aware of – except perhaps Professor Dumbledore. Older versions of Hermione had spoken highly of him, and that was promising for Minerva. That meant he had a plan. She just hoped it was a good one.
If there was one thing Minerva was grateful for after being made Prefect, it was that she could technically be out after curfew and not get in trouble. On the second night of being back at Hogwarts, she did use this to her advantage to go to the library.
Her pale knuckles barely even brushed the stone before the door opened up, and she was once more in Catvrix's domain. She was pleased to see that not many people were there. She didn't know what she wanted when she knocked, but the Room provided for her, as always – Hermione, who looked around her age again, was sitting in her usual spot under the oak tree, scribbling away on some parchment.
Minerva felt that giddy feeling she usually got whenever she was around a Hermione her age or older. She still hadn't forgotten the way Al's fingers had curled in Hermione's curls a few years ago, and how desperately she wished it were her own hand instead.
That wish had only intensified, although she tried her best to bury it. It was impossible, she knew that. Hermione probably didn't even exist in Minerva's world yet – only in Catvrix, which was an anomaly that shouldn't have ever been created. Amelia and Rolanda were lucky, Minerva thought, that they had just accepted their feelings for each other and acted on them. Minerva, on the other hand, was still trying to decide if she could allow herself to step even further away from her upbringing by admitting she found women beautiful – far more beautiful than she had ever found a man.
Far away, she heard a voice calling her name. Snapping out of her intrusive thoughts, Minerva realised she had been staring blankly at Hermione for far too long, and Hermione had clearly noticed. "Sorry," Minerva said, a faint blush rising in her high cheeks, "In my own world there."
"Clearly," Hermione laughed, closing up her books and parchment and stuffing them into her bag. "Everything ok?"
"Yeah," Minerva said, sitting down opposite. "Yes, fine, everything's fine." She smiled at her friend, and it was only now Minerva noticed Hermione looked rather morose herself. "What about you?"
Hermione let out a testy breath, and Minerva realised that Hermione was barely holding her emotions in. After a few more shaky breaths, Hermione said, "You know how it just takes one tiny thing to just set you off and you're just done with everything?" At Minerva's slightly uncertain nod, she continued, "We've got so much shit going on right now, everything's useless and we're fighting something without- well, anyway," she said, clearly not wanting to go into too much detail of the going's on, "I can handle all of that, but honestly, add in teenaged boy drama – drama for no reason, mind you – and I just snap. It's something as tiny and as petty as that that I can't handle. I just don't get it, Min, I don't get the world anymore." Hermione looked up to the sky, and blinked away tears.
Minerva felt useless. She had never been good at comforting people, but she awkwardly maneuvered herself to sit next to Hermione and put her arm around her friends shaking shoulders. "Teenaged boys are weird," she agreed, hoping to break the silence. "I've made it a goal to avoid them."
"Smart move," Hermione chuckled, leaning into Minerva and resting their heads together. "They're not all bad," she added after a while. "But most of them are."
Minerva was intrigued by that statement. "There's a story there," she prompted, nudging Hermione's head with her own.
Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, but gave a fond giggle at the end of it. "There was a boy. Older, foreign, liked me for me. But he lives in Bulgaria, so it's not plausible," she said matter-of-factly.
Absorbing that information, Minerva pondered what to ask next. Despite their years of friendship, there was the unspoken rule of the room to not reveal too much personal information. She wasn't sure how much further would be appropriate.
"What about you, Min?" Hermione asked, breaking Minerva out of her thoughts once more. "Anyone special in your life?"
Minerva almost burst out laughing at the absurdity. "Merlin, no," she said, "I study, I play quidditch, and I come here; that is the extent of my social activities," she laughed. "Actually, for most of last term, I came here purely to avoid a man who had taken interest. Thank you, Catvrix," she said to the sky, making Hermione laugh.
"I do hope you find someone, though," Hermione told her, and Minerva had a feeling that this was just as much for the Minerva in Hermione's world as it was for her. "You're too wonderful to be completely alone, Min."
Minerva felt rather awkward at Hermione's high praise. "Oh, maybe one day," she said lightly. Their faces were so close, Minerva knew that it was just a few-
"I need to get going," Hermione said abruptly, breaking Minerva's train of thought. "Pink Toad will be patrolling. Sorry, Min. See you soon, yeah?"
A quick hug and Hermione was gone, and Minerva was barely aware of what had happened. She needed to get her mind under control and stop day-dreaming about things that could never be. This admiration of Hermione, this concern over her welfare was leading into a crush that she was too scared to formally acknowledge. She didn't want to restrict herself from the Room again, but maybe a few weeks to think things over would help, she decided, slowly walking back to the door. Part of her wished she'd never found this room. While it brought her joy, it also caused her a lot of anguish. Once more, she was debating if it was worth it.
It was absolutely worth it; time and time again, on evenings she didn't have any pressing obligations, she returned, feelings under control and just relishing in the company. She helped a third year Hermione look at legislation pertaining to trials of magical creatures, talked a fourth year Hermione through troubles with her 'real life friends', as they called people on the outside, and on the rare occasions Hermione was also a fifth year, they took to practising duelling.
Hermione was almost fanatic about practising defensive spells, and the Catvrix duelling games had gotten rather intense. For all the times Hermione had seemed stressed, and as though her mind was far away, Minerva noticed she truly came alive when duelling. There was a bit of sparkle back in her eyes.
As Hermione and a seventh year Al continued battling, wands flashing through the air like knives, Minerva got lost in the pretty lights of magic they were throwing. It really was a dance, she thought, hoping that one day she might be able to be as quick with a wand, too.
"You can't fall in love with her, you know," Artemisia's cool voice said from beside her, making Minerva flinch in surprise.
She shook her head. "I'm not in love," she said quickly.
"No," Artemisia agreed, "But you nearly are. Something is holding you back-"
"Muggle religion," Minerva answered, with a roll of her eyes. She didn't want to be having this conversation. She'd rather keep her secret to herself. At least until she knew what to do.
How could she have let it get so out of hand?
"Find someone from your own time," Artemisia said after a pregnant pause. "This…it will only lead to heart-break. For both of you. This room is cruel like that."
As Minerva let Artemisia's words wash over her, she watched on as Hermione and Al upped the ante, conjuring creatures to aid them in their battle. Al seemed to get another idea, however, and started focusing on summoning the water from the lake, manipulating it to try and force a wave to crash onto Hermione.
It really was impressive magic.
It all came crashing down however – literally – onto both Hermione and Al – when Hermione took advantage of Al's lack of awareness of his surroundings and aimed a simple tripping jinx at his feet. Concentration lost, the boulder-sized orb of water fell, utterly drenching Al and Hermione, despite her best efforts to conjure a shield charm. The spectators who had gotten too close weren't so lucky, either.
Next to Minerva, Artemisia was laughing softly. "I don't quite know which of them won that round," she said lightly. "I might not get my galleon back after all." She sighed, before turning to Minerva. "Think about what I said." When Minerva didn't answer, and averted her eyes, Artemisia gently placed her fingers under Minerva's chin to bring their faces level. "It is difficult to keep note of our lives, with the ambiguous timeline here," Artemisia continued, "But I have just spent the past two months kissing Freddie Prewett. And last visit, from my perspective, he told me that he had tried to find me in his world. He wanted to- well, truthfully, I don't know what the foolish boy was thinking. It was to surprise me, he said, because this room wasn't enough."
Minerva found her heart started to beat very fast. She had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. "And?" she managed to ask, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"I died ten years ago. And I'm at peace with that, because we are all to die one day," she assured Minerva kindly, "But I know that a love found here is not to last on the outside. It is not worth it, Minerva."
Minerva felt hollow as she thought of what Artemisia would be feeling. They had teased her for her crush, and although that was several years ago by Minerva's perspective, guilt was slowly seeping into her thoughts. Not only for Artemisia, but also for Hermione.
Hermione was, as far as she could guess, at least three decades younger than her, most likely even more. Minerva had a suspicion she was also a teacher at Hogwarts given a few comments Hermione had let slip over the years. Both of those things were warning signs, she knew that. Warning signs she really could not ignore.
Not to mention whatever she, Al and Hermione were caught up in fighting together.
"I have my OWLs coming up in a few months," Minerva said, barely registering how far away her own voice sounded, "I probably wont have time to come back for-"
"Good girl," Artemisia smiled. "You must study hard. Never give up anything for love, Minerva. Love fades, your life is forever."
Minerva said nothing, but nodded her head slowly. Artemisia had spoken like the ruthless career-woman she would become. It was advice, Minerva realised, that people would kill for. Here she was, having a candid discussion with one of the most powerful witches to have ever lived. Catvrix may be a curse to her some days, but it was also a privilege. "You're right," she said eventually. "I should go. Sort myself out. Tell everyone I said 'goodbye', Artie."
Artemisia nodded, and Minerva turned to go, stomach churning from what her friend had told her. She felt awful for both Artemisia and Freddie, for the awful truth of what the facts of reality were. "Sia!" she called over her shoulder, before turning back around to see where Artemisia went. Luckily, she hadn't moved, and raised her chin slightly, inviting Minerva to continue. "I'm sorry," Minerva said, struggling to keep the emotions from overwhelming her voice, "About you and-"
Artemisia cut her off with a wave of her hand. "As I said; foolish boy," Artemisia said, although the smile on her lips did not reach her dark eyes.
Yes, Minerva thought, as she stared into the flames in the fire grate in the Gryffindor common room much later, it was foolish; the whole damned room was foolish…and it had nearly made a fool of her, too.
Minerva didn't go back for the rest of her fifth year. Her sixth year came, and she occasionally looked at the bookshelf-door if she was losing focus during one of her late-night study sessions in the library – avoiding Augusta was as much of a priority as it had been in her first year – but the looks of regret soon turned into looks of indifference.
She was half tempted to run in there and never return to her Hogwarts when Emmeline, her–
Well, she didn't really know what to call Emmeline Vance anymore. The beautiful seventh year Ravenclaw, who Minerva had somehow wound up snogging in dark alcoves of the castle time and time again for the past year, had been accepted to an American Wizarding University, and was intending on staying there even after attaining her qualification.
So that was certainly the end of that, Minerva thought glumly, hiding in the library, as she always did in times of crisis. She briefly entertained the thought of moving to America too, after she finished her seventh year, but she couldn't imagine leaving her brothers just yet, as annoying as they may be.
But between Emmeline, quidditch, and the madness of sixth year, Minerva found herself on the train back to Kings Cross for the summer break when she realised she hadn't actually gone to Catvrix at all that year. And yet, the only guilt she felt was because she didn't feel guilty about leaving it for reality.
Hermione Granger still haunted her – she was still worried about the future – their future, along with Albus Dumbledore's – but as Professor Dumbledore had told her years ago; she shouldn't dwell on worries and forget to live.
And Minerva, despite how things ended with Emmeline, was certainly pleased with how she lived her sixth year.
It was strange, Minerva thought as she walked down the third floor corridor on her nightly patrol, that soon she would be doing her final exams and then would be a fully qualified witch. She hadn't any idea what she wanted to do. Further study was expensive, much too expensive for her mother to consider, given that there were two other McGonagall's who still needed school supplies each year for the foreseeable future. Professional Quidditch was also now out of the question after a nasty accident three months ago that her shoulder still hadn't recovered from. In fact, Minerva could feel it starting to twinge with pain again, and she hadn't any Pain Stop Potion with her.
Minerva sighed, coming to rest at the foot of the eastern tower and sinking to the ground, holding her head in her hands. It had been a long year, and NEWTs were a mere two weeks away, and the room had been in her dreams again over the past month. Just flashes of it, the stone door, the tree she and her friends used to sit under…
Part of her thought that paying Catvrix a visit would be a good thing, but she truly, truly didn't want to get caught up in that world again, not with her exams so close. She couldn't afford any distractions, and even though it had been nearly two years since she saw Hermione, she was absolutely positive that girl would get back into her head again. She'd rather liked pretending that she had no concerns about the future.
"After NEWTs," she told herself. "A final good-bye to Catty."
"Talking to yourself if a sign of madness, you know," one of the portraits opposite her rudely pointed out.
"Oh, shut up, Percival," she snapped back, slightly embarrassed that she had been speaking aloud. She quickly got to her feet and stalked off, finishing the rest of her patrol avoiding the irritating portrait of Percival the Potent.
Standing in front of the stone bookshelf brought a sense of déjà vu to Minerva. This whole room seemed like one of her juvenile fancies, when she was young and foolish and didn't know any better. She wanted to turn away, or wait until the day before graduation, so she couldn't go back again even if she wanted to. As it was, NEWTs were over and she had three weeks of nothing to do until she sailed across the lake for the final time.
Figuring that as long as she didn't spend the entirety of those three weeks ensconced in the room, she should be fine.
It was now that she realised she was bargaining with herself, and rolled her eyes at her internal musings. As she had done many times before, she knocked on the door, hearing the familiar sound for what she wondered might be the final time.
She stepped through, smoothing over her black skirt, and took in the same surroundings that had once been her refuge. Nothing had changed. The lake, the grass, the classroom, the forest – it was all there, frozen in this room that bended time to its will. It was only now she realised how different it was from the real Hogwarts; there were no animals. No Squid in the Lake, no birds flying from the forest, not even a butterfly flying along the grass. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed that before.
On the stone wall by the tree, she saw the girl – woman, rather – that was honestly the main reason she had always kept coming back. Hermione was staring blankly out at the lake, hands so tightly clenched together that her knuckles were white, and looking as though she hadn't slept in days.
Hermione must have seen the door open, because her head turned to look at Minerva, and her pained face broke into a weary smile. "I've been waiting for you, Miss McGonagall," she said, and as she got up from the wall and began walking over, Minerva could see that the teasing remark did not reach her eyes.
As Hermione got closer, Minerva cursed herself – even when something bad had clearly happened and her friend looked a wreck, she still felt those familiar feelings that Hermione always caused. The quickened heartbeat of being in close proximity, the damned butterflies in her stomach… She had truly thought that she had gotten over this, especially after Emmeline.
With Hermione now standing barely a foot in front of her, Minerva couldn't help but be horrified at what she saw. Hermione's eyes were bloodshot, her nose was red from frequent rubbing with a tissue, and grief was written all across her features.
"I wanted to see you before I left," Hermione said, giving a small smile, and reaching out to hold both of Minerva's hands with her own. "I don't know if I'll see you again, but I want you to know that this room, and you – and Sia and all that, obviously – but you especially have been the most wonderful friends over the years." A tear fell from one of Hermione's glassy eyes as she continued, "I wish…" Hermione's hands, fingers entwined with Minerva's, tightened, "You know, what I wish doesn't matter anymore," she said with a shaky laugh. "But you live a good life, Min. Promise me."
Minerva swallowed hard, trying to take in everything Hermione had said. It sounded like more than a farewell; it was too final. "Why do I get the feeling that this is for a future me to hear, as well?" she said, feeling tears prick her own eyes. This wasn't how this visit was meant to go, not at all.
Hermione gave a breathy chuckle, before dropping Minerva's hands and enveloping her into one of the tightest embraces she'd ever received. She wrapped her arms around Hermione, holding just as tightly, hoping that in some small way this could give her even the tiniest bit of extra support. "Are you going to war?" she asked thickly, remembering every conversation that they'd had in this room, remembering what Al had said about Hermione after that day she'd embraced him.
Minerva felt Hermione utterly freeze against her at the question, before drawing away to look at Minerva once more, arms resting on each other's waists. "I'll try and come back here if…" she couldn't finish the sentence, and instead bit down on her bottom lip while she thought. "Well, I'll try," she amended, bring a hand up to caress Minerva's cheek, before letting it come to rest on her shoulder. Hermione gave a watery smile, before leaning forward slightly and pressing her lips to the cheek opposite she had just touched.
Tell her, Minerva's heart was nearly screaming, realising she can't just let Hermione leave without telling her the truth. She wasn't sure if she loved Hermione – Minerva doubted she even knew what love truly was, at this age – but the feelings of protectiveness and care were overwhelming. That had to mean something more than a fleeting crush, surely. "Hermione, I…" she started softly, but stopped when Hermione pulled away from her, shaking her head.
"Don't, please, I couldn't bear it," she said, openly crying now. "I'm sorry, Min, I have to go-"
Looking directly into each other's eyes, Hermione broke away first and headed past Minerva to the door back to whatever horrors awaited her. "I'll try and come back here if… You know," Hermione called over her shoulder, before stepping through and not giving Minerva a chance to reply.
Minerva felt as though a bludger had just hit her in the stomach. Without seeing any of her old friends, she ran from the room, and some mad part of her hoped that the door would malfunction and take her to Hermione's era, so that Hermione wouldn't be alone in whatever it was she was about to leave and fight. She was thoroughly disappointed to see that it was the library from her Hogwarts – Mr. Commins' gravelly tone was telling off McLaggen and Scrimgeour at the front desk.
Minerva let out the sob she was holding, and tried to calm herself down. Damn it, damn it all to Hell, she thought, rubbing at her eyes. It wasn't meant to end this way, she was meant to have a nice afternoon with her friends, say their goodbyes and she would go back to real life forever with fond memories to look back on.
Not be worried that a seventeen or eighteen year old girl was about to fight in a war decades in the future that there was no way she could possibly prevent.
Minerva didn't sleep well that night. Or the night after. She was too worried about Hermione, she was trying to think of ways that they might be able to be together – Minerva kept on replaying their final conversation over and over and was absolutely convinced Hermione knew what she had been about to tell her. The only thing she wasn't sure of was if those feelings were mutual. Hermione's affection could have been put down to grief, or helplessness, rather than… well, Minerva was uncomfortable with the word 'love', but there wasn't really a better word that conveyed what she felt, and what she hoped Hermione did to, despite all the problems that would come with it.
Like the very fact that it was absolutely impossible for her to even dream of pursuing this madness.
After a week of surviving on afternoon naps, she sat in the middle of her four winged poster bed and thought. She knew that the Room of Catvrix didn't adhere to time. Everyone, from all eras, were thrown in together. With that as the foundation, Minerva reasoned that it would therefore be sooner, rather than later, that she would see Hermione again, because to the room, no time had passed. So if Hermione did survive, all Minerva would have to do was hope the room knew that that was both who and what she needed, and would provide the correct Hermione accordingly.
With that in mind, she pulled on a green dress and slipped on her shoes and hurried to the library, hoping that her theory was correct. She was grateful that the library was deserted – she realised that she hadn't even bothered to check the time, only that there was daylight shining in through the windows – and after knocking, didn't even wait for the doors to Catvrix to fully open before pushing her way in.
As always, Hermione, Artemisia, Pandora and Fredrick were sitting in their usual spot under the tree. It wasn't the Hermione she wanted though – this one was a year or so younger, judging by the length of her hair. Minerva swallowed her disappointment and joined them; Artemisia and Fredrick were both quite young, so Minerva doubted their failed love affair had happened yet. Pandora was sketching, and Hermione was resting with her back against the tree trunk. Minerva's eyes widened as she saw scratches scattered across Hermione's exposed arms and legs, and what looked like burns on her neck. "What-?!" she started to say, dropping to her knees next to Hermione to get a closer look, but Hermione placed her hand over Minerva's in reassurance.
"I'm fine," Hermione smiled. "You're currently worse than me, I'll have you know," she added, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
Minerva sighed, and readjusted her position so she was next to Hermione, keeping an inch between them so that she didn't accidentally cause Hermione any extra pain. She didn't even want to know what injuries her older self in Hermione's era had if they were worse than Hermione's. "I worry about you," Minerva said softly, looking at Hermione. "I'm always worried about you," she added lamely, wishing Hermione could just stay here and avoid whatever war was coming.
But like Minerva, Hermione was a Gryffindor, and Minerva knew that suggesting that would be pointless.
They spent the rest of their time in the room mostly in silence; Minerva was half convinced Hermione was asleep for most of it, but that didn't matter. The poor thing was healing from whatever battle she'd had to fight. Minerva felt guilty for the smile that the thought elicited, but she wondered if the reason her older self was also injured was because they were both fighting in whatever this battle was. Minerva knew their magic worked well together; they would make a formidable team.
"I should probably get going, I have potions waiting for me," Hermione said tiredly after a long while.
"Do you need help?" Minerva asked, noticing how painful it seemed for Hermione to be standing, let alone walking.
"Nah," Hermione replied with a pained smile. "I'll be fine. Bye, Min - see you 'round, guys," she added, giving everyone a wave.
Minerva watched her hobble away. Maybe this wasn't the Hermione she had wanted, but Minerva was pleased that this was the Minerva Hermione had gotten – she didn't think her younger self would have been so calm and collected if she'd seen a wounded Hermione. Catvrix, you work in mysterious ways, she thought, before making her own farewells and departing. She still had over a week to test her theory. She'd return every day if she had to.
And return every day, she did. On some days, there was no Hermione at all, other days, it was younger ones, and she couldn't help but hug them tight whenever she saw them. It was probably confusing from Hermione's perspective given the varying ages that received this level of affection, but she was sure Hermione understood how Catvrix worked now – Minerva had been the one to explain it to her, after all.
It was two days before the graduation ceremony when she walked into an absolutely deserted Catvrix, bar the woman leaning against the tree Minerva usually sat under. Minerva frowned as she approached, and very nearly gasped when she realised it was Hermione. Only her trademark curly hair was gone; instead, she now sported jaw-length hairstyle that almost made her unrecognisable. Minerva thought she looked incredible.
"Hello," Minerva said, smiling crookedly as she reached the tree.
Hermione grinned. "Hello."
It seemed that neither of them quite knew what to say as they both laughed nervously to cover the silence. "So are you a ghost, or did you win, or…?" Minerva asked.
"We won. We lost a lot but… But we won," Hermione said thickly, before pulling Minerva into a hug.
"I've been so worried," Minerva murmured into Hermione's shoulder, before leaning back to look into Hermione's eyes to emphasise her point. "So, so worried, I-"
She was cut off by Hermione closing the inch of distance between them and kissing her. Minerva heard her inhale and felt her shudder, and although it took her a few seconds to realise what was happening, Minerva came to her senses and tightened her arms around Hermione's back, trying to pull her even closer.
"I'm sorry," Hermione murmured against Minerva's lips, before pressing their foreheads together. "Really, I am."
"For what?" Minerva asked, confused. She brought her arms out from behind Hermione's back to cradle the beautiful face before her.
"For making you worry," Hermione said softly, "For being in such a state last time I was here." She paused, and brought her hands around the front of Minerva to rest them on her shoulders. "I'm not sorry for this, though," she grinned, before kissing Minerva again, much more insistent this time.
The kiss deepened, Minerva threading her fingers through Hermione's short hair and pressing their bodies together. She couldn't quite believe this was happening. Hermione's hands seemed to leave a trail of heat in their wake as they tentatively explored Minerva's body, from her neck, her jaw, her waist…
Minerva disentangled her hands from Hermione's hair to feel more of her. Even in her fantasies of doing something like this to Hermione, nothing could compare what how incredible it felt in reality. She could feel the strong back muscles through Hermione's thin cotton shirt, her ribs and slim waist. She wasn't sure which of them was the one to instigate a pause for breath, but Hermione took advantage of Minerva's momentary distraction by swapping them around and pressing Minerva into the tree while kissing down her neck, nibbling on the pale skin occasionally.
With her hands entwined once again in Hermione's hair, and her breathing getting heavier with Hermione's explorations growing bolder, the reality of the situation dawned.
As completely pleasurable as it was, it couldn't happen, Minerva knew that. It was wrong. There was no possible way for this to end well. It could end in utter heartbreak, or they could stop now before it got any more painful. As much as she wanted this – had dreamed of this – she couldn't go through with it. She wanted Hermione today, yes, but also tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and that was not something available to them.
"What is it?" Hermione murmured, making her way back up to Minerva's mouth. "What's wrong?"
"I can't do this, Hermione," Minerva said, tears welling in her eyes. "Not in this fairy tale of a room. I want more, I want real life. And we can't have that," she said with a sob, burying her face in Hermione's shoulder, shaking slightly as she was overcome with emotion.
"Ssh, ssh ssh," Hermione soothed, stroking Minerva's long hair with one hand, and rubbing her back with the other. "Gods, you're right, I'm so – I thought – with older you – but that's years away for you – I – I should go, I'm so sorry. You deserve so much more than this."
Minerva kept a tight hold on Hermione. "No, just-" she inhaled a shuddering breath, "I wish this could work. I've wished it for years, Hermione, gosh, I – I've cared for you for far too long. Curse this damnable room."
"I love you," Hermione murmured into Minerva's hair. "So much. I've wished it, too, Min, believe me." She sighed, and with Minerva loosening her grip, Hermione stepped back. Both of their faces were tear streaked, and their lips were swollen.
Minerva hated herself for stopping whatever was going to happen. She had been feeling so euphoric mere moments ago, and now…
"I'll go," Hermione said, straightening her shirt. "I'll try and think of something, but… I think this is it, Min."
"Yeah," Minerva said thickly, wiping her eyes. "Yeah. I'll see you, I'm sure," she added with a hopeful smile, trying to let them have one brighter moment before leaving Catvrix for good.
"Oh, you will," Hermione smiled. "I can promise you that." She gave Minerva's hand a quick squeeze before heading over to the door. Minerva was glad; she didn't think she could handle a long goodbye, not after what had just transpired. "You stay brilliant, Minerva McGonagall," Hermione called over her shoulder, before disappearing through the door.
"You too, Hermione Granger," she said, feeling her resolve crumble. She sunk to the ground and wept, hating that this pain would be easier to bear than the agony that would come with giving each other their hearts and souls completely.
"Damn you, Catvrix," she said bitterly, picking herself up off the ground after what had felt like an age. As she walked through the door for the last time, she gave the room one more withering glare. "And damn you for what is to come."
A/N: Welp, this is the result of an opening line that has been floating around my head for ages, and me procrastinating over three assessments over the course of the past week.
Unsure if I should write a second part, maybe give them a happy ending? Yay or nay? Let me know below, reviews make the world go 'round.
Love Lily xo
PS: Completely took the word 'Catvrix' from Eluveitie's song of the same name. (If you're into folk metal, you should give them a listen to!) And the other traits the note in the book listed are from the song, too, translated from Gaulish. It was pure coincidence that I was listening to the song while writing the first part of this while simultaneously researching the English translation for the song. I looked at the words, realised I needed a name and ~something mysterious~ for this Room to be special, and was like 'eeeexcellent' (Mr. Burns-style finger tapping and all).
PPS: Now we all know where Hermione really went when she always rushed off to the library ;) That's how I'm linking this to canon, and I'm sticking to it!