You have my word, I am in progress of writing the next chapter of Seeking Time, however I've come to the conclusion that I need to have a fic going that does not involve time travel, alternate universes, or any other such twists and turns. I just want a "back to the basics" story and it's been some time since I've written one. Not sure how long this will end up being, but here's chapter one. Enjoy!
The battle at Hogwarts had left the entire castle quite the mess. Hermione Granger, along with many others, had taken up residence once again for the purpose of helping with repairs, rather than for education. Today, nearly a month after the battle, Hermione had managed to dig her way to what used to be Professor McGonagall's quarters. Now, McGonagall was Headmistress and living in the Head Tower, but a good deal of her personal belongings were still buried beneath the rubble that had previously been her home.
Harry coughed beside her, the dust getting into his lungs. "Don't know how much we'll be able to salvage," he commented.
"It doesn't look like the fires reached here," she replied. "The roof obviously caved in, but at least the books would have survived. I don't think the Headmistress cares too much about her china. She did mention some photographs she wanted to recover though, so keep an eye out for pictures."
"I can understand that," Harry nodded, crawling through the hole they'd made before her, "Uh, Hermione…"
"What?" she asked, crawling in behind him.
"There's a glowing globe thing on the floor," he said, pointing.
Hermione studied the item - about the size of an apple and as Harry had remarked, glowing. The red light coming from it was flashing in a steady rhythm, and upon closer inspection the Gryffindor noticed a crack along one side. "It's damaged, whatever it is."
"Maybe we should, you know… not touch it," Harry said warily. "I have a bad feeling about this…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "What on earth could a little glowing ball do to…"
She was eating her words before they'd even left her mouth, when as soon as she'd begun moving toward it, it had risen from the ground on its own accord and hurtled toward her, impacting her in the stomach. Then, it simply seemed to melt into her body. There was no shattered glass, no mess on her clothes… the whole thing just seeped into her skin. She gasped at the intrusion, and was suddenly quite dizzy.
"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, rushing toward her.
He didn't get a chance to ask if she was alright before she collapsed into his arms, losing consciousness before he'd even been able to lower her to the ground gently. The last thing she heard before slipping away completely was Harry casting his Patronus, and the sound of a heartbeat echoing wildly in her ears.
Minerva McGonagall was having a fairly good day. Yes, Hogwarts was still a mess of epic proportions, but she had plenty of help for the massive task of cleaning up, and most of the volunteers were directing themselves and needing very little of her attention. This left her free to deal with the paperwork element of rebuilding. Albus would have stroked out and died at the sight of papers on her desk right now, if it were still his job to get the school ready for a new term.
Suddenly, a patronus bounded into her office - Poppy's - demanding that she come to the Hospital Wing at once. The Mediwitch didn't provide detail, but with all the work crews, it was likely someone was injured. Poppy wouldn't have specified urgency if the victim was already dead, though Minerva worried that the injury may be dire. As such, she quickly made for her Floo, moving directly from her office to Poppy's. "What's happened?" she asked, voice tense.
"Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were working on your old quarters," Poppy explained. "From what Harry said, they encountered some sort of glowing globe and it melted - his words, mind you - into Hermione. Before I run extensive tests I was hoping you could tell me what the bloody hell that thing was."
Minerva paled. She'd assumed it had been totally destroyed when the roof caved in. If it had been merely damaged, then of course it would seek a viable host. Gods, Hermione would never forgive her… "Out," Minerva said coolly to Harry and Poppy. "Both of you out. Miss Granger and I need to discuss something before any more tests, and I trust both of you to not inform anyone else of what you already know."
Her voice was firm, and both Harry and Poppy could tell how very serious she was. "She's not even awake yet," Harry pointed out. "Perhaps…"
"Then I will sit with her until such a time as she does awaken," Minerva replied. "Get. Out."
The two finally did as they were told, and Minerva transfigured a comfortable chair for herself to sit in. Voldemort himself wouldn't be able to stop her from remaining right here, waiting for Hermione to wake up so that she could explain how the young Gryffindor was now going to have to pay the price of Minerva's greatest mistake.
Hermione woke up in the Hospital Wing to find the Headmistress staring blankly at a book in her hands, though as there was no eye movement to follow the words on the page, she surmised there was no actual reading being done. This, oddly, was highly alarming to the Gryffindor. "Professor?" she said quietly.
McGonagall's eyes shot in her direction, and the book snapped closed and was quickly discarded on the bedside table. "Miss Granger," she greeted quietly. "How are you feeling?"
"A bit sick to my stomach, honestly," she admitted. "But not so much as to worry over. What happened?"
"You and Mister Potter were dealing with the wreckage of my quarters…" the older witch prompted.
"The globe!" Hermione remembered. "What was that?"
"It's a bit of a long story, Miss…" the Headmistress rubbed her temples. "Bloody hell, for the sake of my sanity in the conversation we're about to have, might we drop formallity? Hermione, what I'm about to tell you is something nobody alive knows about, and under any other circumstances, I'd certainly not be breaking my silence now either."
Hermione didn't like the sound of that in the slightest, but she did trust her former Professor and had been hoping that they might begin to build a less formal relationship now that the war was over anyway. The phrase 'be careful what you wish for' was running through her mind at the moment. "Of course, Minerva," she said easily. "And you have my word, whatever you feel you have to tell me will not go beyond the two of us. You can trust me."
Minerva laughed bitterly. "I do trust you, but I also know you, and while a choice is absolutely before you the one I expect you to make will involve others learning the truth."
"I'm sure it's not all that bad," the younger woman tried to assure her. "But let's worry about that after your story."
Nothing could have prepared Hermione for what she was about to hear.
"In the summer of nineteen fifty-four," Minerva began, "just after I'd graduated from Hogwarts, I met and fell in love with a muggle man named Dougal McGregor. After only a few short weeks, he proposed and I accepted, though I broke off the engagement the very next day."
"Why on earth would you do that?" the younger witch asked.
"I was the daughter of a muggle Minister, and a witch," she sighed. "I'd already watched my parents' marriage decay under the strain of the mixed race relationship, and to be with Dougal, I knew that I'd have to give up my magic much as my mother did. The Statute of Secrecy was far more strict back in those days, as were many other laws. Meanwhile, I had graduated top of my class at Hogwarts and had a promising future in the Wizarding world ahead of me, and absolutely no promise of being anything but a housewife if I chose to marry Dougal and live as a muggle."
Hermione could understand how difficult a decision that must have been. For as much as she loved her muggle parents and muggle friends, the idea of giving up her magic made her shudder. She didn't think she could do it, not even for love, and as such couldn't fault Minerva's reasoning. "Go on," she prompted.
"What I didn't know when I broke things off with Dougal was that as a consequence of a summer full of lovemaking, I was already pregnant with his child," Minerva continued, voice cracking at the admission. "Oh, Hermione, I wasn't ready to be a mother and I knew it. Even if I'd gone back to Dougal and confessed the truth and he'd done right by me and we'd wed, the truth of why I'd left would have remained the same. Abortion was not legal back then, so I had two choices."
"Giving the baby up for adoption?" Hermione asked.
Minerva nodded. "That was the first choice. If I'd done that, I'd have needed to carry the baby to term before doing so, which meant that my very conservative family would find out and likely disown me, and my opportunities for jobs would be slim to none, even after the pregnancy and adoption were both over. Having the baby, even if I didn't keep it, would still destroy my life."
"The second choice?"
"The second choice was to put the child in stasis - in a small globe to be kept in my possession, which with a series of spells would allow me to continue the pregnancy at a time of my choosing," Minerva said quietly. "The fact that the stasis could keep the embryo for years on years meant that many young witches in my position went that route, never resuming the pregnancy at all and no one being any the wiser a pregnancy had occurred."
Hermione's jaw fell, and her hand fell to her stomach as she put the pieces of the picture together. "Are you saying that… that…"
She couldn't say it, so Minerva did for her. "I never did continue the pregnancy. The stasis orb is designed to seek a fertile host should the orb become damaged. You are now carrying my and Dougal's unborn child."
The two women just stared at each other for a minute, processing. Finally, Hermione let out a breath and started asking questions. "Is it going to hurt me - carrying a baby that I didn't conceive?"
Minerva shook her head. "I took the liberty of checking through your medical records, and as you and I share a blood type, there's no risk at all. The pregnancy is viable."
"Is there a way to put the baby back in the stasis orb?" Hermione asked.
"If there were, I'd have already done it and we wouldn't be having this conversation," Minerva said crisply. "Hermione, I hate to be blunt but you're stalling on the one question that really matters. Abortion is legal now, but I will not force you to have one. You are pregnant with my child, you are a healthy young woman, and there's no reason to think that the pregnancy poses any risk to yourself or the child. The question is one of if or not you will go through with the pregnancy."
Hermione crossed her arms. "I don't think that really is a question. You already pointed out that you know me well enough to know what choice I'd make - I could never take the life of an innocent - so the question to ask becomes do you want this baby, or am I looking at giving birth to a child that biologically is not mine, to raise as if it were."
"If I had wanted the baby, I'd have gone through the pregnancy by now," Minerva snapped. "But want or not I'm not going to shirk responsibility and abandon it just because I got lucky enough that the one who is carrying the baby would certainly take care of it, with or without me."
"Damn right!"
"So that settles it? You have the baby, and I raise my child like I should have done all those years ago?" Minerva bit.
"Hardly!" Hermione said. "Minerva, I know myself well enough to know that if I have this baby, I'm not going to be able to just hand it off and say 'see you later.' I know it's not mine but I'm going to get attached anyway. Are you willing to let me be a part of this baby's life?"
"It's not your responsibility, Hermione," Minerva said softly, her temper dimming. "I couldn't ask that of you, no matter how much the idea of raising a child alone terrifies me."
"Then don't raise it alone," the young woman said, reaching out and touching Minerva's hand. "You may have conceived the child, but I'm carrying it, which in an odd sort of way makes it our baby."
Minerva chuckled. "The notion of our baby implies a romance between the two of us, and that's just ridicu…"
"I'm gay," Hermione interrupted. "And I know about you and Amelia Bones. So not so ridiculous."
The Scottish witch took a moment to adjust to a world in which Hermione was gay. "My dear, there are nearly fifty years between us…"
"There are forty-four years between us, and with the way wizards and witches age, that's really only a bit over twenty years difference, which is actually not that uncommon. My parents are sixteen years apart in age."
"I am not having this conversation," Minerva muttered to the ceiling above. "Regardless of any of that, I would not begrudge you being a part of the baby's life, and I think it would do well to have a second parent in his or her life. That does not, however, mean that we will be living together, sleeping together, or any such thing. Age difference completely aside, we know very little of each other and outside of this conversation, have never conversed on a personal level. We are, evidently, having a baby together. For the moment, can we kindly focus on that?"
Hermione nodded, but went ahead and played her last card. "So how do you want to go about explaining to the public why I'm pregnant with your baby? Because I'm just saying, a story about a romance in the wake of war would go over far better than the truth. I can't imagine you're so terribly put off by the notion of snogging me."
"Bugger!" Minerva grumbled, knowing Hermione was right about public response.
It wasn't that Hermione had any long standing feelings for Minerva, but she had long since admitted to herself she found the older woman to be attractive. She'd never have, not in a million years, made a pass at Minerva for a pile of perfectly valid reasons, but in the here and now she was plainly stuck with the woman for the rest of their lives. The child would bond them in a way nothing else could. So, Hermione figured, why not make the best of it?
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