AN: I've been asked to write something angsty. Not sure I can pull that off, but I'm willing to try. I've always been of the opinion that life has plenty of angst already so why add more? Well Tan threatened to make me sleep on the sofa if I didn't try, so here it is...
Based on one sentence uttered during the movie "Steel Magnolias" Where Julia Roberts' character says to Sally Fields' character, "I'd rather have five minutes of wonderful, then a lifetime of nothing special." Dedicated to Asouldreams, the absolute "Queen of Angst."
FIVE DAYS
Prelude
Minerva McGonagall scowled at the parchment she held in her hand. Another invitation to speak at yet another pointless conference. Her experience with these types of events usually involved a smelly hotel room with insects in the shower, sleepless nights, sitting through endless workshops listening to the latest nonsense from witches and wizards who barely received acceptables in their newts.
These workshops were generally followed by luncheons where the ebony haired witch would be forced to sit with people who bored the hell of her and eat stale sandwiches with a bag of greasy crisps.
Her time to speak would then follow where the organized witch would present a thoughtful and concise talk about Transfiguration Theory where most of the audience would act like they were listening and at the end of the session pepper her with questions about material that she had just presented! Had they been listening, their questions would've been answered fully.
Merlin she hated conferences!
She was about to toss the invitation in the rubbish when the location of this particular event caught her eye.
Sydney Australia.
Her dark eyebrows knit together in a perplexed frown. Why was Sydney so special? She placed the parchment on her blotter, and opened the top left drawer of her ages old English oak desk. Inside the drawer was a scrap book of sorts. Bits and pieces of information she'd gathered over the last five years about a certain someone. A certain someone who now lived in Sydney.
It had been five years nearly to the day that Voldemort had been killed by Harry Potter. The young man had gone on to become quite the successful auror. His best friend Ron Weasley had joined his brother George at the joke shop and had become a very prosperous merchant. A small smile quirked up the corner of the older witch's thin lips. She was proud of her two Gryffindors for being so successful but this particular scrap book was filled with items about the third member of the golden trio.
A young woman who had abruptly disappeared just days after Voldemort's downfall. Rather than join in the festivities, she had left Great Britain to reunite with her parents in Australia and had never returned.
Sydney Australia to be precise.
That is, if the countless articles contained in her clipping collection could be believed.
Hermione Jean Granger, the brains of the golden trio, was down under.
Living a quiet life of research according to one article that Minerva had collected. This particular parchment was wrinkled and stained from being read a thousand times. Stained with tears shed with every one of those thousand readings.
Tears of grief, of wishes, of dreams... tears from a broken heart. Tears shed over countless missed opportunities.
Minerva's life had become filled with "if only's".
"If only I had been brave enough to tell her." She whispered as yet another tear dropped onto the parchment containing the magical photo of Hermione as she sat in a coffee shop giving an interview. The article had appeared about three years prior. When everyone had just about given up hope of ever seeing the young woman again.
She looked rested and healthy. It was the look in the young woman's eyes that had given the Headmistress pause. Her deep chocolate orbs were reflective, yet melancholy. Eyes that contained a multitude of regrets.
Minerva had twisted her insides with wistful ache at that heartbreaking look in the young woman's beautifully expressive eyes.
Harry Potter had travelled to Sydney to try and persuade the brilliant witch to return to England.
Her answer had been an emphatic, "No." Followed by a sad, "My life in England was filled with broken dreams and unfulfilled wishes. I needed to make a new start away from such heartache."
Everyone had believed it was because Ron Weasley had married Lavender Brown. Only Harry knew the real truth. Hermione never truly loved the red-haired Ron Weasley. She only did what was expected.
Because it WAS expected. Not because it was what she had wanted. Harry had known for several years of Hermione's true preference. Had known that the young witch was terrified of being cast out because of that particular preference.
Hermione was gay.
He'd tried to convince her that in the wizarding world it was perfectly acceptable to become involved with someone of the same sex. The young woman didn't believe him. She knew better. After all, she was a muggle born. She had witnessed first hand what happened to people who revealed their sexual preference. Young men were ridiculed, beaten and cast aside. Young women were turned away by confused and angry parents to become runaways. Told that, "You are not my child." As the door was slammed in their face.
No.
She wasn't going to risk that.
Hermione Granger had become the dutiful daughter. Trying to make up to her parents for all the perceived troubles and all the danger the magical world had presented to the Grangers.
John and Jean had loved it at first. Until they'd realized just what their daughter was doing. Throwing her future away to try and pay for the sins the magical world had visited upon them simply for being the parents of Hermione Jean Granger.
It had become like a chess game. With gambit after gambit being rebuked.
They'd tried countless times to get Hermione to go back. To go back to the world where she truly deserved to be. They hated seeing the half life their daughter was living. Partly in the world of muggles, partly in the magical world. Never belonging to either.
Except in Great Britain.
The Grangers knew where Hermione's heart completely belonged...
In the sparkles of the Black Lake. In the endless cycle of seasons of the forbidden forest, in the verdant meadows of Scotland's highlands, in the snow capped mountains of northern England, in the endless tomes and journals of the library of of a certain ages old castle.
In the heart of a certain Headmistress.
Hermione's mother was a bit more perceptive than most gave her credit for. She'd always suspected her daughter was different. Having met Ron Weasley, Jean knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was definitely NOT the one for Hermione.
No.
There was someone else who'd captured her brilliant daughter's heart. Someone beyond her reach. That was the real reason why she'd come to be with her parents. She couldn't have the one person she wanted. The one person who owned her heart.
Minerva McGonagall.
Having met the mighty Headmistress of Hogwarts, Jean Granger understood her daughter's way of thinking. McGonagall was a formidable presence. Proud, brilliantly intelligent in a way that only Hermione could appreciate, and powerful. A dozen other adjectives applied as well. Majestic, noble, timeless.
Words that could be used to describe the castle for which McGonagall kept a protective vigil.
On the day of Hermione's graduation, Jean had seen the way Minerva had looked at her daughter. Had seen the way those stunning emerald eyes had sparkled as they beheld the glints of gold shining in thick waves of chestnut, in the twinkle of mischievous chocolate, in the mirth of a cheeky grin.
Had seen the way McGonagall had quickly turned her head to hide her feelings from Hermione.
Both women so very proud. Both women so very much in love with the other. Both women so very afraid to admit it to the other out of fear. Fear of rejection.
Fear.
The same thing that had kept her from telling John that their daughter was a lesbian. Fear of his reaction.
Checkmate.
Ronald and Hermione would've never worked.
Minerva had always thought so. In her deepest thoughts, she felt they were totally mismatched. Ronald was so sporting and outdoorsy. She felt his match with Lavender Brown was much more suitable.
Hermione, on the other hand, needed someone intellectually stimulating. Someone who she could have endless conversations with, someone who enjoyed her passion for learning, someone to sit in front of the fire with, someone to make lo... She stopped herself as her thoughts drifted to someplace inappropriate.
Too many times in the past and of late it seemed, her thoughts drifted to that forbidden place.
She'd finally admitted to herself about a year ago that she did indeed love and want Hermione after having a conversation with Harry. He'd come to drop off some forms for a seventh year who was turning out to be quite the auror prospect. The young witch had been an over-achiever with deep brown eyes and reminded everyone of a certain bushy haired, chocolate eyed, know-it-all from the past.
Harry had mentioned that to the headmistress. His mouth had fallen open when Minerva had abruptly burst into tears and excused herself. Harry was left sitting in the headmistress' office staring at the closed door behind her desk. It was then that he'd heard a cough.
Looking up, he'd seen Dumbledore sitting in his portrait shaking his head sadly. The Headmaster had whispered something about missed opportunties. Harry had asked him why?
"Minerva has been in love with Hermione since the Yule Ball."
That simple statement had floored Potter. He hadn't known what to say. Dumbledore had flashed a wistful smile and said, "It was never the right time. First it was because she was a student, then because of the war, then because of this, then that. Minerva never found the courage to tell Hermione which is unbelieveable considering her fierceness in battle. She always thought that Miss Granger would laughingly reject her. Call her an old fool or something."
The headmaster had trailed off and was silent for a long moment before he'd said, "The fear of being seen as foolish is a powerful thing with Minerva. So she never said anything, but you know what? I don't think Miss Granger would've said no."
Harry had nodded with a sage smile. He knew the truth. Hermione would've never laughed unless it was from the pure joy of having her dream come true.
For she was in love with Minerva.
McGonagall had never been told any of this. There really didn't seem to be much point. Hermione was determined to stay in Sydney and Minerva was Headmistress of Hogwarts and all that that implied. It seemed that their love would never be realized. The fearful gap that separated the two witches being wider than the actual geography itself.
Back in the present, Minerva pulled herself from her melancholy revelry. "It would be nice to see her again." She whispered, her fingers brushing across the face in the photo. She sighed and closed the book, "If only..."
"Go to the conference Tabby."
She looked up at her dear friend in his portrait, "Whatever for? They never pay attention and keep rehashing the same tired old arguments."
"You could change things."
Emerald eyes flashed, "What is there to change?"
They both realized that the subject of their conversation was NOT transfiguration.
"You'll never know unless you try."
"And be laughed out of the conference? I do not think so." She frowned, her dark eyebrows knitting together, feeling a headache coming on.
"I don't believe there will be any laughter other than out of absolute joy."
Green eyes snapped up at Dumbledore, "How can you be so sure?"
Clear blue eyes twinkled mysteriously, "Let's just say that I know something that you do not."
An indignant snort was her only reply.
Dumbledore rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, "Dammit woman! She loves you!"
Minerva slammed her hands on the desk top in anger, "Enough! She does not love me. If that were so then why is she half way across the planet!?"
Dumbledore shook his head, "You know for someone as remarkably brilliant as you are, you are also incredibly thick."
"What????"
He ignored the fury building in those gleaming emerald orbs and added, "She never believed she had a chance with you. You did everything you could to make yourself unavailable and had she approached you, you would've done everything in your power to dissuade her. Told her she was too young, or a former student or some such self sacrificing blather." He threw his hands up and growled, "Stop being a martyr and go see her! Go to the bloody conference. She's going to be there." His hands spread wide as he offered a sad plea, "Don't let your life become filled with regrets like mine was."
Minerva's eyebrow raised quizzically, "How do you know?" Her heart jumped at the thought of seeing Hermione. Even if it were simply at the conference. Even for just a moment.
Dumbledore grinned, "Being an enchanted portrait has it's advantages. I can pop into trading cards too and she happens to have one of me attached to the frame of the vanity mirror in her bedroom." He paused dramatically and added, "Right next to a photo of you. A photo she kisses every morning before she goes to work."
"...."
"Ha! I knew that would get your attention." Dumbledore exclaimed smugly.
"Shut it you old nutter." Came a deep growl from the elegant woman. There was a tiny smile decorating her lovely face and as sudden as the headache had appeared, it had magically disappeared.
"Well?" The former headmaster queried, his bony hands resting on the frame of his painting.
Minerva sighed, "Well what?"
"Are you going?"
"No..." She was quiet again. He knew she didn't mean it.
"Oh for Merlin's sake woman! Just go!!" He could see that she really did want to go. Not to the conference per se, but to possibly see for herself that Hermione was doing well. Perhaps even to see if the young witch really did have feelings for her.
"Fine! I'll go. Just to prove you wrong!" Minerva snarled as she stormed from the room. The door to her personal quarters slammed shut with a finality that made the other portraits shudder. All that is except Albus.
"Uh huh. You go on thinking that." Dumbledore shot a wink at the portrait of Severus Snape. The latter's response was a knowing smirk.
DAY ONE
Minerva hadn't been disappointed in her opinion of conferences as this one was turning out to be pretty much like the others. The only bright spot being that her hotel room was actually rather nice. A suite had been provided for her use.
Apparently the Australians appreciated her style. She found she appreciated theirs as well. The hospitality had been outstanding.
If only the workshops of the conference were so. The same tired faces, the same tired theories. She'd gotten so exasperated with a representative from the United States that she'd placed a silencing charm over him saying, "When you start saying something intelligent, then I shall remove the charm."
The other representatives had looked at her in awe as she strode purposefully out of the classroom.
"Fiesty witch." A Canadian wizard had commented.
"You have no idea." Came an amused reply from a young chestnut haired witch with intense dark eyes. She'd been sitting in the back of the room watching the events silently. Her heart had skipped a beat when she'd witnessed Minerva's hexing the American.
Her heart fluttered at actions that were classic McGonagall.
"...and if you apply that particular theory to what had already been postulated, then you get the chain reaction you were looking for." Minerva McGonagall, Tranfiguationist Extraordinaire waved her wand and demonstrated what she'd just spent the last half hour outlining.
The audience clapped enthusiastically, excited to be in the presence of one of the world's greatest masters of Transfiguration.
All except one young witch in the fifth row.
The witch's unruly chestnut mane fell over her shoulders in glorious waves. Waves that she impatiently pushed aside as she furiously copied everything Minerva had written on the floating chalkboard at the side of the raised dais where she stood.
Hermione had marvelled at Minerva's appearance. She hadn't changed a bit. The same ebony hair pulled into an efficient bun, the same square framed spectacles, the same emerald robes, the same stunning eyes.
She was magnificent.
Minerva had also marvelled at seeing Hermione. She'd been lecturing the class on various proven and unproven theories. Her emerald eyes washing over the audience. Spying those who actually appreciated what she was presenting and those who were simply killing time until lunch. She'd stumbled to a startled stop when her gaze had found the young, dark eyed witch.
The young woman was sitting attentively. Just as she'd done all those years ago in class at Hogwarts. Chocolate brown had locked with startled emerald for the merest of moments and sparks had sizzled.
Minerva had shaken her head to clear the fog and continued on. Acutely aware of the beautiful witch in the fifth row.
McGonagall stood in the hotel's green room answering the same mindless questions that reaffirmed her theory about people never paying attention to anything she'd ever said. She rolled her emerald eyes at yet another stupid question from a portly German wizard who seemed more interested in being seen in her company than the actual subject of transfiguration.
"If you'd been paying attention in the first place, you wouldn't have felt the need to demonstrate just how thick you really are by asking such an inane question. Dummkopf!"
The German wizard fell silent. His fat cheeks flushing a deep scarlet. Muttering an apology, he slunk away, his proverbial tail between his legs.
Minerva turned to the speaker of such a scathing comment and stated with a genuine smile, "Well said Miss Granger."
The two witches stood for a moment simply staring. Greedy eyes took in every curve, nuance, shadow and shade.
"How've you been?" Came a quiet query from the young witch gazing up at the beautiful older witch with deep brown eyes.
Orbs that captured McGonagall's breath for one poignant moment.
Minerva's intense eyes blinked a moment. Clearing her throat, she politely replied, "I am well. And you?"
Hermione smiled at her former mentor's reserved formality. So typically McGonagall. She looked away to gather her thoughts and keep herself from falling into those endless emerald depths as they peered so intently at her.
"I live a quiet life. Research into charms and how transfiguration impacts the way they work. Nothing special."
Minerva shook her head at the young woman's humility, "Nothing special indeed. Ha! Young lady you have been quoted in every major Transfiguration journal! Your theories have turned the magical world on it's collective ear. Nothing special indeed!" A huge smile bloomed across the older witch's lovely face. Her whole being lit up with a magical glow.
Basking in the tingles that Minerva's magic was giving off, Hermione grinned. Leaning in to her mentor's personal space, she asked, "Do you have any more presentations to make?"
Minerva shook her head, "No. Just this one. Now that I have completed my task I am free to leave."
Hermione's face fell at the comment.
Green eyes widened at the young woman's reaction. The last thing she wanted to do was make Hermione sad. Quickly she stated, "I do not have to leave if I do not wish to. My invitation stated that I could have the suite for the entire duration of the conference."
"How long is that?" Burning dark eyes gazed at the older witch. A hopeful gleam sparkling in their hypnotic depths.
Minerva tore herself away from that compelling gaze and replied, "Five days."
Hermione nodded and leaned in again and asked in a conspiratorial whisper, "Want to get out of here?"
"In the worst way."
The Cheshire cat grin made a stunning appearance causing the Headmistress' heart to pound, "Then let's go."
It was in a rather eclectic cafe that the two witches found themselves ensconced in a cozy corner table. Being that it was a muggle establishment, the two women dressed accordingly.
Minerva was clad in tailored black trousers with a forest green silk blouse. The first three buttons opened to expose her creamy collar bones and upper chest in all their glory. Her feet were snuggled into comfortable sandals and she wore her fabulous hair loose and flowing down her back like an ebony waterfall.
Hermione wore a short flowered skirt that fell to mid thigh and exposed her tanned shapely legs quite nicely. Her sleeveless white top showed off toned arms as well. Her unruly gold flecked chestnut tresses fell over her shoulders and down her back like the Gryffindor Lion's mane.
Minerva had to concentrate to keep from gaping at the gorgeous thighs of the young woman as the latter leaned back crossing her legs. Her skirt rose up a bit, giving Minerva ample reason to stare.
At that moment, the waitress brought the women their drinks.
A Glen Fiddich for Minerva and a sweet blush wine for Hermione.
Each woman took a sip and a moment to gather their thoughts.
Minerva gazed about the cafe in interest, "Do you come here often?" The tone of her voice was pure Professor McGonagall.
Hermione smiled at the obvious pick-up wondering if Minerva realized what she'd just said. Smirking, she replied, "Sometimes. It's usually a bit louder. They have live music on Friday nights."
Minerva nodded, "Ah. Do you come here with friends?"
The young woman took another sip of her wine, "Occasionally a group from work will come here to unwind. We have fun." She sensed the Headmistress was fishing for something.
Nodding again, Minerva got to the point, "Just friends? Do you have a special someone?"
Bingo!
Hermione grinned, "No there's no one special."
"No young man who has caught your eye?"
Hermione decided to be perfectly honest, "I don't date men."
"Oh." Minerva replied almost automatically until she actually realized just what Hermione had meant. Emerald orbs widened and a lilting, "Oh" squeaked out.
The young woman nearly laughed at the expression on Minerva's face. It was oddly.... hopeful?
Minerva noticed the laughter trying to force it's way out of Hermione's plump lips, "Are you laughing at me?" There was an underlying seriousness in the older woman's question. Almost as if she expected Hermione to laugh at her foolishness.
The young witch picked up on the tone in Minerva's voice but didn't really understand how to address it or where it was coming from. Instead Hermione asked, "What are you doing tomorrow?"
Minerva shook her head, "I have no idea. I really did not plan on staying beyond today... but now that I am here I suppose I will find something to occupy my time."
Hermione nodded, "Well, I took a few days off to attend the conference but I really don't want to be bored out of my mind by presenters who'd be better off polishing brooms."
Minerva sniggered at that.
Hermione grinned and continued, "How about we check out the waterfront tomorrow? There are some nice shops that you might find interesting. We could have lunch?"
The Headmistress nodded, "That is a lovely suggestion."
"It's a date then." The young woman stated as she took their empty glasses to the bar for a refill.
Minerva's eyes widened.
A date??
DAY TWO
Two women strolled along the waterfront of Sydney Harbor. The famous opera house was just ahead of them. The stunning architecture had captivated the Headmistress enough for her to comment, "I must say, there are times when muggle building techniques simply take my breath away. All done without magic. Astounding!"
Hermione shot her a sardonic smirk, "Yeah we do try." There was a tiny hint of sarcasm in her voice. Something that wasn't lost on the older witch.
"I meant no disrespect."
"None taken." Hermione replied inclining her head in acceptance. The young woman had studiously maintained a serious formality with the older witch. She didn't want Minerva to think she was just a silly young woman with a crush.
Clearing her throat, Minerva asked, "You seem uncomfortable. Have I offended you?"
Surprised at the keen insight of the older witch, Hermione replied, "Actually I'm more comfortable with you than I've been with anyone these last few years."
They found a bench and took seats turning their bodies to face the other. A seagull flew by letting out a mournful cry. Something that seemed reflected in Hermione's dark eyes.
Minerva patted the young woman's knee, "Now why is that?" There was a light shining in her eyes.
Hermione felt a warmth wash over her as she beheld that light, "I guess because you represent happier times?"
The Headmistress dropped her gaze for a moment and asked in a soft, tentative voice, "If you are unhappy here then why stay?"
The young witch ran a hand absently through her thick mane unaware of how appealing her action was to the older woman. She stared out at the rippling water of the harbor not answering for a long moment. Finally, bowing her head, she replied, "Because mum and dad are here."
Minerva frowned, "What about you?"
"What about me?"
The older witch rubbed her chin thoughtfully, "Do you not deserve some happiness in your life?"
Hermione cocked her head, a crooked smile breaking through the gloomy expression she previously wore, "What about you? Are you happy?"
Minerva's dark eyebrows rose as Hermione turned the conversation around. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she answered, "I am as happy as I can be."
It was a purposely vague answer. Typical McGonagall once again.
Hermione's next question gave her pause once more, "Is there someone special in your life?"
"Special?"
Smiling the young witch prodded, "You know... a lover or something? Husband maybe?"
Minerva snorted, "No... No husband." She trailed off a bit flustered. Taking a deep breath she plowed on, "Like you, I do not date men."
Chocolate eyes widened in surprise, "You're gay????"
Minerva looked around in agitation, "Say it louder Hermione. I do not think they heard you in Alice Springs."
The young woman giggled causing Minerva to once again think that Hermione was laughing at her foolishness. Abruptly she sighed, "Why are you laughing at me? Do I appear that silly to you?" There was a touch of resignation in her voice. Almost as if she'd been expecting Hermione to laugh at her.
The chestnut haired young woman frowned, "That's the second time in as many days that you've accused me of laughing at you. Why is that?"
Minerva stood and walked away a few paces unconsciously hugging herself. Her back was still turned as she said, "Have I? I apologize."
Hermione wondered what Minerva was afraid of. Obviously she didn't like being laughed at. Especially, it seemed, by her. She was curious about that.
In her deepest dreams, she hoped it was because Minerva wanted her. In the past two days, she'd caught the Headmistress looking at her in a certain way. A way that made the young witch think that perhaps Minerva McGonagall might be interested in her... that way.
The older witch turned to face Hermione, "I am feeling a wee bit tired. I think I will return to my room for a nap."
"Then again maybe not." Hermione muttered to herself as she watched the proud witch walk away. Standing, she called, "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"I will call you." Came the response. The older witch didn't even turn around.
"Shit." Hermione whispered as tears welled in her dark eyes.
DAY THREE
True to her word, the next day Minerva did owl Hermione. The young witch had spent the previous evening beating herself up over the way she thought she'd acted around Minerva. She had no way of knowing that Minerva herself had done much the same thing.
The older witch had spent most of the night pacing her room; berating herself for being overly sensitive.
After much soul searching, the Headmistress had decided to owl the young woman anyway. Perhaps a friendship could be salvaged.
There was a knock at the door to her suite. Minerva looked up from the morning paper she'd been reading and got up to answer.
A bellboy stood at her door with a rolling cart filled with an assortment of breakfast treats. There was a large pot of tea as well as a vase containing colorful flowers. The young man smiled at the expression on the older woman's face, "They're called "Forget-Me-Nots." Compliments of the young lady." He quickly set up the suite's dining table and moved to the doorway where Hermione had appeared. She slipped him a few dollars with a silent smile.
Minerva's back was to the door as she looked over the table. She remembered the young man saying that this was compliments of the young lady. Turning she began, "You said compliments of the young la..." She stopped speaking as Hermione shyly stepped into the room.
"Good morning."
Minerva quietly stared at the beautiful young woman standing with such trepidation just inside the door. She realized that she was being incredibly rude by standing there goggling at the young woman, so she cleared her throat and replied, "Good morning to you Miss Granger."
Taking a small step forward, the young woman asked, "Call me Hermione? Miss Granger sounds so..." She trailed off not knowing how to tell Minerva.
Luckily the older witch knew the answer, "Miss Granger reminds you of school?"
"I'm not a little girl anymore."
Minerva smiled softly, "Indeed you are not. You have become a lovely young woman."
Chocolate eyes lit as Hermione asked shyly, "You think so?"
Emerald eyes sparkled in return, "I know so."
There was a long charged moment where neither woman found the courage to speak. They both knew what they wanted of the other but couldn't bring themselves to act. Instead, Minerva waved her hand at the table and said, "Thank you for the meal. There appears to be enough for two. Would you care to join me?"
After a leisurely breakfast, the two women decided to go shopping. Hermione had told Minerva of a wonderful apparel shop run by two witches. One a muggle born, Janet Raymond and her pure blood partner Alisha Prentiss. The women were not only partners in business but in life as well.
Hermione had met Jan and Ali quite by accident. The young woman had been sitting in a park near their store when she'd witnessed the women locking the store up for the evening. As they strolled away, Jan had stopped and exclaimed loudly, "Bugger! I forgot my purse!" The auburn haired young woman had glanced up at the sandy haired Ali and grinned. Neither woman had been aware that Hermione had been watching them when Ali had pulled out her wand and accio'd Jan's purse.
Grinning, Hermione had sent a friendly pulse of magic in their direction startling both women.
They'd turned as one to see a thick maned, dark eyed young woman approaching them.
"G'day." Jan had greeted politely.
Hermione had eyed the wand in Ali's hand and said with a smile, "Olivander's?"
The women had let out a relieved breath as Ali had nodded. Hermione had then pulled her own wand out and introduced herself.
The witches had been astounded to meet THE Hermione Granger all the way down under and had quickly invited her out for a meal. A friendship had developed and had continued to the present.
Ali & Jan had figured that the young witch had run away from some deep emotional.... something. Hermione had never volunteered any information about something that had been so obviously troubling and the other witches weren't going to pry. They figured that the younger woman would tell them when she was ready.
If ever.
Now, Jan's blue eyes twinkled as she looked out the window of their store, "Ali c'mere! Hermione's coming and she's got company!"
Ali flew out of the backroom, her hazel eyes wide. "Mione's got company?" They never saw Hermione with anyone, so this was new.
The sandy haired witch joined her lover by the window and peeked out. She immediately recognized Hermione's companion, "Bloody hell! That's Minerva McGonagall!!"
Even in Australia the Headmistress of Hogwarts was quite well known.
Hermione grinned as she spied her friends peeking out the window. She waved at them and said to Minerva, "You'll like "Pure Magic". My friends Ali and Jan run it."
A dark eyebrow had risen at the name, "Are they witches?"
Hermione nodded as she reached to open the door to the shop, "Yes, but they sell muggle stuff too."
"Muggle stuff?"
Hermione nodded with a grin, "You'll see."
And indeed she did. Minerva felt as though she'd been dosed with a bit of pure magic as well. The kind of joyous tingle that washes over you when you find yourself in the company of one whom you thoroughly adore.
She stood before the mirror in the changing room. Ali had convinced her to try on a pair of denim blue jeans. The older witch had to admit the muggle clothing was wonderfully comfortable and flattered her figure. Her long legs and gentle curves were highlighted to perfection.
"Are you going to come out and show me?" An impatient voice called out.
Minerva smirked as she stepped out and into Hermione's appreciative gaze.
A loud cat call whistled from behind Hermione as Ali stepped up, "Wow."
Hermione nodded her agreement silently. She was speechless. Her mouth had fallen open in surprise.
Minerva stepped close and gently closed the young woman's jaw, "I take it you like this?" There was a hint of flirtiness in the older woman's lovely brogue.
Jan elbowed Ali whispering, "Sparks are flying!"
Exasperated, Ali rolled her eyes and elbowed back, "Shhhh. Let them be!"
Pulling her partner into the back office, Jan said, "Oh come on. Surely you can see the attraction pouring off of both of them?"
Ali nodded, "Yes I can, but that's Minerva McGonagall. Let them be."
Jan snorted, "She puts her knickers on one leg at a time just like the rest of us. Hermione likes her. Can't you see that?"
Ali nodded realizing that here in her store was the very reason for Hermione leaving England. She also realized that neither she nor her impulsive partner needed to be interfering. "They need to find their way on their own."
Jan smiled, "Sure whatever you say."
Her fingers were crossed behind her back.
Jan sidled up to Minerva while the older witch was looking at some blouses. The auburn haired woman glanced over to see Ali busy with Hermione. Grinning, she noticed that Minerva's green eyes were fastened on her. "Do you need a bit of help?"
The older witch also glanced over to where Hermione was being assisted by the other witch. "Does Hermione come here a lot?"
Jan smiled and nodded, "Every Saturday or so. Sometimes she shops and sometimes she just comes in to chat."
"Does she ever come in with anyone else?"
Jan realized that the older woman was interested in Hermione, "You like her. Yes?" Her sharp eyes twinkled.
The older woman's face flushed scarlet as she turned back to the rack of blouses, "I have known her quite a long time." That really didn't answer Jan's question but what was left unsaid and Minerva's body language spoke volumes.
The remaining time was spent modelling clothes for each other. One woman trying to out-do the other with both shop owners contributing to the competition.
Hermione would appear in a yellow sundress.
Minerva would counter with a red one.
Hermione laughingly spun around showing off a black evening gown that highlighted her skin leaving Minerva staring gob smacked. Ali smirked at Jan.
The older witch recovered and countered with a sparkling silver number with a huge slit up a shapely thigh. Jan stuck her tongue out at Ali.
Hermione burbled a bit, then came back out of the changing room wearing a black leather mini skirt. Ali shooting her partner a "look".
Not to be outdone, Minerva found a gauzy emerald nightgown that came to mid thigh.
Hermione dropped the dress Ali had just handed her, stunned and amazed. Then she took a step back and stumbled over her own two feet ala Nymphadora Tonks.
Jan grinned and shot a fist in the air, "I win!"
Hours later, the door to the suite swung open and two exhausted witches stumbled in. Minerva flopped unceremoniously onto the very comfortable sofa in the living room of the nicely appointed room the Australian Ministry of Magic had provided.
Hermione followed suit, an odd smirk on her face.
"Whut?" Minerva asked after noticing the young witch's expression.
Hermione grinned, "I have never seen you flop on anything before."
Minerva chuckled, "I do occasionally display very human characteristics..." She leaned in a bit and whispered, "In fact, I have been known to giggle, spit, get rip roaring drunk and..." She paused dramatically and added, "Break wind."
Peals of hysterical laughter echoed throughout the entire floor of the hotel.
Snorting, Minerva continued in a very curious tone, "For some reason my former students and most people seem to put me on some kind of pedestal."
Hermione wiped her face. She had laughed so hard that tears had sprung from her eyes. "It's the McGonagall mystique."
"Piffle."
This time Hermione snorted, "That's not even a word."
"It is too."
"Is not!"
Minerva playfully poked Hermione in the ribs as she rose from the sofa. Reaching in the pockets of her robes, she pulled out the miniaturized parcels from their shopping spree. Setting them on a the muggle television, using it as a table, she crossed to a cabinet. Opening it, she pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey.
"If we are going to argue like two drunken warlocks, we might as well act the part." She poured them each a healthy glass.
A short time later, three empty firewhiskey bottles stood as silent witnesses to the proud and mighty McGonagall as she drunkenly recited to an equally drunken Hermione Granger all the reasons she and Albus Dumbledore never had sex.
"What would... *hic* ...I have done with all that beard may I ask?" Minerva asked, eyebrows waggling. She snorted and took another swig from her glass, "And let us not forget the fact that he was ... whut? Three hundred years old or.. *hic* ... something?"
Hermione guffawed, falling over onto Minerva. The later let out a loud bellow, "Let us not forget the most compelling reason of all.." She waited a moment as Hermione unsteadily sat up and let out a very unladylike belch.
"That was a nine point one on Hagrid's burb-o-meter."
Chocolate eyes bugged as the young woman gasped, "His what?"
Minerva nodded crookedly, "Oh yes. He and Albus used to have burping contests... *hic* ...on Saturday nights. Sometimes Filius and Rolanda joined in." She frowned, her nose scrunching as she stated, "Another reason he and I did not have sex..." She shook her head thinking of some of her dear friend's outrageous behaviours, "And last but not the very least." She raised a finger in a very "Professor McGonagall" like manner as she said, "Albus was gay..."
"Just like you?" The young witch asked as she fell over again.
Minerva propped Hermione up once more and replied, "No, not like me. He liked men, I like women."
A giggle squeezed between plump lips. Lips that Minerva suddenly found herself staring at. Hermione noticed her mentor's sloppy but heated gaze and provocatively licked them. She smirked as a groan escaped Minerva's equally desirable mouth.
"You are very... *hic* ...lovely you know." Minerva stated as matter of factly as a drunken witch could get.
Hermione smiled, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell over a third time. This time passed out dead drunk.
"Well... so much for you." Minerva mumbled as she scooped the young woman up in her arms and zig zagged as she carried her to the bedroom. As carefully as she could, being as drunk as she was, the older witch tucked the chestnut haired beauty under the sheets.
When finished, she stepped back and gazed longingly at the sleeping woman in her bed, "Being.. *hic* the chivalrous witch that am, I shall... *hic* sleep on the sofa." She turned and strode as dignified as she could out of the bedroom. It didn't help matters that the whole suite had suddenly tilted drastically to the right.
Back in the bedroom, an eyelid popped open and a chocolate brown eye crinkled as the famous "Cheshire Cat" grin appeared.
DAY FOUR
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Hermione Granger opened one bleary dark eye to the most annoying sound.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
It took her a moment to realize that what she was hearing was the sound of her own lungs pushing air in and out. If it wasn't for the fact that she needed that particular bodily function, she would've halted it immediately.
The echoing sound of a toilet flushing reverberated throughout her tender brain, "God why is that soooo loud!" She grumbled, wincing at the decible level of her own voice. Looking around, she realized that she never made it home. "God where am I?" "In my bed."
Hermione jerked up, moaning at the sudden rush of blood and the dizziness it induced. She could see that Minerva looked a bit rough around the edges herself. The Headmistress was dressed in her nightgown with a blue bathrobe tied loosely at her slim waist. That wasn't so bad except the robe was inside out.
"How did I get here?"
"I carried you."
Surprise made it's way over Hermione's beautiful, if hung over, face, "How? You were drunker than I was!" The young witch began to snicker. She couldn't help it.
The older witch looked rather peeved as she replied, "I was not. I am Scottish." There was a hint of pride in her affronted tone as she continued, " And once again you are laughing at me."
Hermione's snickers became giggles as Minerva's expression just looked too odd. Inside out robe, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, bed hair from hell. Minerva McGonagall was adorable....
...and totally hung over "What is so funny?" The Headmistress demanded once again. Feeling ill wasn't helping her temper.
Hermione's giggles progressed into deep belly laughs prompting Minerva to march straight back into the loo, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw herself reflected in the mirror.
"Oh my bloody hell!"
By the time Minerva stepped out of the loo once more, Hermione had ordered some strong coffee and toast for them. She didn't think either of them could handle anything stronger with such tender tummies.
The older witch, looking every bit the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, once again stepped into the living room. Not a hair out of place, robes proper with all buttons evenly matched and a stern expression on her elegant visage.
Hermione offered a coffee to her mentor saying, "I wasn't laughing at you. Just the situation."
Minerva took the coffee with a nod of thanks. Taking a sip, she said, "I thought you were laughing at me for being such an old fool."
Hermione frowned, "You are many things, but a fool is not one of them."
So... the older witch was afraid that the young woman thought she was acting foolish. Why?
Taking a bite from her toast and motioning for Minerva to do the same, Hermione asked, "What are you so afraid of?"
Minerva never had to answer as she was saved by the bell. Hermione's cell phone chose that moment to ring.
The young woman quickly located her purse tucked under the sofa cushion.
"No wonder it felt lumpy." Minerva muttered as Hermione answered her phone.
"Hello? Oh hi mum."
The older witch listened to the one sided conversation with interest.
"I did? I'm sorry."
"I'm attending the transfiguration conference."
"No TRANS-FIG-UR-ATION."
Minerva smirked at that one.
"It was late."
"Go ahead and feed him. He likes tuna."
"Oh really? Well, I'll be home shortly."
The young woman closed the connection and looked to her mentor. The older woman was giving her a smirk.
"Whut?"
Minerva smiled, "You live with your parents?"
Hermione shook her head, "Oh no. Mum has a key. Apparently I received a parcel yesterday at her house. She brought it over to my flat. I wasn't there... she got.. well you know how mum's get."
Minerva nodded remembering her own mother and the escapades she pulled in her youth.
Hermione grinned, "Do you want to come back to my place?"
Hermione's flat was small but very cozy. Located on the third floor of a newly renovated building a few blocks from the harbor. Minerva felt at home immediately as she glanced about her surroundings taking in the comfortable looking sofa, floor to ceiling book shelves, roll top desk, thick rugs and warm colors.
Hermione had motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa as she headed for the kitchen where she could hear her mother puttering about, "Mum if you're re-arranging my spice cabinet again..."
Minerva sniggered as Hermione's voice dropped several octaves. She could make out some vague murmuring, then a loud, "She is?"
Trotting footsteps heralded the arrival of Jean Granger in the living room, "Professor McGonagall! So nice to see you!"
Minerva rose and clasped Jean's outstretched hand in a hearty handshake, "It is a pleasure."
Jean's dark eyes lit up. Maybe this reserved and very formal woman had finally lifted the latches on her heart and had come for her daughter?
"What brings you to Sydney? The Trans..figger..um.." The muggle woman frowned, then brightened, "The conference?"
Minerva nodded saying, "Transfiguration is my speciality."
Jean grinned and pointed at her, "That's it."
At that moment Crookshanks came barreling into the room followed by a very frazzled young woman, "Blast it cat! You have to take your pill!"
Hermione's familiar was getting up in years and was now on medication. Medicine he required to regulate his heartbeat. The errant kneazle immediately spied Minerva sitting primly on the sofa.
"Rrrrowl!" Came an excited squeak from the long haired ginger tabby. He jumped onto the Headmistress' lap and began nuzzling her chin. He and Minerva in her cat form had become quite good friends while at Hogwarts.
Hermione's eyes filled with suspicious tears as she watched Minerva talk to her pet with a series of purrs, mews and rumbles. Whatever she said to the cat, he responded by giving the older witch a lick on her nose.
Jean's dark eyes widened, "I have never seen him react like that to anyone!"
Green eyes connected with chocolate for a charged moment.
A moment that wasn't lost on Jean Granger. Seeing an opportunity, she looked to her daughter, "Would you fix some tea dear?"
The chestnut haired beauty tore herself away from her mentor's intense eyes and nodded, "Alright." Gently she took Crookshanks from Minerva's grasp. Cradling him close, she glided back into the kitchen.
Jean's piercing stare was caught by emerald green. Minerva shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat.
"Why have you never told her?" Hermione's mother was nothing if not straight to the point.
The older witch looked towards the kitchen where she could hear Hermione rattling about and talking softly to Crookshanks.
Jean prodded again, "This the most spark I've seen in my daughter in five years and it's because you are here."
Emerald green eyes snapped back to Jean in silent question.
"For five years she's just drifted. Neither here nor there. Not belonging in my world, staying away from your's. Running away from something... something she could not have." Her dark eyes pierced Minerva's soul as she added, "Running away from you."
Surprise etched itself quite clearly on the older witch's lovely face, "Running from me? But I never did..."
Jean interupted the witch, "That's right you never did. You never did anything to let her know how you felt. She thought you would reject her. That's why she's here in Australia and not in Britain!" Her voice had risen from an urgent whisper as she added, "John and I are getting along fine. We just want her to be happy!"
Minerva was silent. Hadn't Albus said the same thing. Looking into concerned mocha eyes, she stated, "Hermione never said anything."
Jean snorted, "Why would she? She was terrified that you would push her away... and you ended up doing just that."
Minerva shook her head, "I never pushed her away."
Sighing, Jean shook her head in resignation, "Not in so many words my dear Professor. But sometimes actions or in your case, lack of action speaks louder than any words. She felt you didn't want her."
Minerva's head was spinning at the implications coming from Jean Granger. Her shoulders sagged as she said, "I am too old for her."
The older witch was startled when Jean chuckled, "That's what John said to me thirty years ago. I was eighteen and he was thirty-eight. I chased him relentlessly." She grinned and pointed towards the kitchen, "And there's the result. Age is just a bunch of numbers. You can make it work if you try." The muggle woman continued relentlessly, "I know my daughter is... gay. I know that in my world they're are still people who would persecute her for that." She bowed her head in sorrow saying, "Including her father."
Minerva's eyes narrowed in anger at what John Granger might do should he find out.
Jean saw the look in the older witch's eyes, "John loves her, he just doesn't understand her." She ran a sad hand through her shoulder length sandy brown tresses, "It doesn't have to be that way though. Harry Potter told me that in your world same sex relationships are accepted."
Minerva smiled softly at the mention of Potter. Somehow, it seemed she and Hermione had a guardian wizard looking out for them.
Harry. Dear, sweet Harry Potter. A young man who only wanted his dearest friend to be happy.
Minerva felt a tremble start in her fingers. It moved up her arms causing goosebumps that spread in waves over her body. A single tear escaped and meandered down an elegant cheek. She felt as if the world was closing in on her. What she had believed for the past five years may not be so?
If Jean was to be believed.
If Albus was to be believed.
If Harry was to be believed.
What about Hermione? What did she believe?
There were no answers for the stalwart Headmistress. She stood abruptly, "I need some air." Leaving a startled Jean sitting open mouthed on the sofa, Minerva McGonagall did something no Gryffindor would ever do.
She ran.
Hermione entered the living room with the tea tray. She saw her mother sitting alone on the sofa, "Where's Minerva?"
"Gone."
Chocolate eyes flashed dangerously, "What did you say to her?"
"The truth."
The young woman looked at her mother as she set the tray down. Her dispair clearly written on her young face, "Oh mum..."
Jean stood and walked to her daughter. Touching the young woman's face with gentle hands, she cupped Hermione's chin. Identical chocolate eyes locked for a moment, then Jean said, "Go after her. Find her. Tell her how you feel. Don't let this chance slip by!" She pushed her daughter towards the door, "Go!"
Minerva pulled her suitcase out of the closet and tossed it on the bed. Waving her wand, she accio'd her clothing from the wardrobe and watched as it neatly packed itself into the black leather case.
An urgent knocking at the suite door caused her to look up. It could only be one person. The question was, should she answer? Her heart screamed for her to go to the door. Her head said something different entirely. Her heart and mind battled for what seemed like ages but in reality was only a moment or two.
It was the Griffindor in her that won out. Finally.
She marched to the door as if headed to war. In a way perhaps she was. She took a huge deep breath and opened it. Sure enough, there was Hermione looking up at her as if she too was going into battle.
She was.
Fierce chocolate eyes bore straight into the Headmistress' soul. She stepped into the suite, not even waiting for the invitation to enter and demanded, "Why did you leave?"
"I had to pack."
That was such a lame excuse that Hermione snorted and shot Minerva another "look". The taller woman silently withdrew and moved back towards the bedroom.
"Is that your answer to everything these days? Retreat? When did you become such a coward?" Hermione grated, furious at being treated once again like she was unworthy.
Minerva halted in the doorway. Hermione's words stung. She stood stiffly, her back rigid. Fists clenched.
"Don't run away from me again." The young witch's words slid through the ice over the older woman's heart. Stepping nearer to the woman who meant the world to her, Hermione gently laid a hand on the Headmistress' shoulder. She felt her mentor flinch slightly.
"These last few days have been amazing. If all I am to have with you are these few days, then I'd rather have five days of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special."
Those heart wrenching words crumbled the icy wall around Minerva's heart. Hermione felt a shudder race through the older witch where her hand rested. The muscles beneath the small hand quivered. A sob escaped Minerva's trembling lips.
She waited for her to turn around. Waited for a response that she dreaded, for she was expecting the Headmistress to reject her.
She waited.
And waited.
Eventually, tired of the suspense, Hermione whispered, "Turn around."
There was no reaction from the older woman. Just another tremble beneath small fingers.
Hermione was close to begging, close to tears, as she softly asked, "Minerva?... Please look at me."
The Headmistress couldn't resist the entreaty in the sweet voice of a woman she loved more than life. Slowly she turned, her eyes glued to the relative safety of Hermione's shoes.
Waiting with baited breath for the older woman to look up, Hermione finally placed two fingers under Minerva's chin and gently lifted her head. Emerald once again locked with chocolate brown.
Both sets of eyes cloudy with unshed tears.
Minerva's lip trembled as she whispered, "Hermione... don't do this."
"Do what? Tell you how I feel?" The young woman sighed, her breathing ragged with the charged emotions in the room.
The Headmistress straightened her sagging shoulders and asked, resignation in her voice, "What do you want from me?"
Hermione stood resolute and replied, "Whatever you're willing to give me."
Minerva gazed longingly at the young woman, her eyes darkening as she asked, "What if I want something I dare not ask for?"
Knowing the meaning behind the words her mentor had just uttered, Hermione replied, "I will give it to you freely. Without reservation, without asking for anything more than what you're willing to give me."
Minerva closed her eyes, "I cannot ask you to do that."
The young woman waited for Minerva to open her eyes, when she did, Hermione looked deeply into tortured emerald orbs and stated, "I want you to ask."
Stepping back, nostrils flaring with sudden rage, Minerva retorted, "What? So you can reject me, so you can laugh at me?" She turned on her heel taking another step towards the bedroom snapping, "I do not think so Miss Granger."
Inflamed with her own rage at being dismissed like the school girl she once was, Hermione stormed after Minerva and grabbed the older woman by the arm. Spinning her around she found herself in her mentor's personal space. Heaving chests nearly touching.
The younger woman's rage abruptly vanished leaving only raw passion behind. Passion that focused on lips so very close to her own. Two small hands snaked behind the Headmistress' neck and pulled her into a soul searing wet kiss.
Minerva's heart thundered as she responded to the ardent kiss from sweet, plump lips.
A moan could be heard as the two witches tumbled onto the bed.
DAY FIVE
Hermione Granger opened her eyes. The room was still bathed in the bright light from the Australian moon streaming through the blinds. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the young witch became aware of a body pressing against her side. A tiny smile lit up her features as she remembered the previous evening.
An argument, charged emotions, an amazing kiss and the most incredible love making she'd ever experienced.
Her lover lay snoring softly half draped over her, half pressed against her side. The older woman's head lay pillowed on Hermione's ample breasts. Possessive even in sleep, Minerva McGonagall held the young woman close. As if never wanting to let her go.
Hermione could only wish.
Not once during the previous evening had Minerva said those three magic words. Three words that would determine whether the young woman went back to England or stayed in Australia.
Long ebony strands of the purest silky hair covered the young witch's chest. Taking that hair out of the infamous bun had given Hermione the tiniest of orgasms. It was beautiful, just like Minerva.
A soft groan alerted the young woman that her bed partner was waking. She tenderly stroked the soft skin of her lover's back. Lightly grazing over scars from past battles, feeling the strong muscles twitch under her touch. She forced herself to commit every detail of Minerva's body to memory for she was certain that this was a one time event.
Goosebumps formed under her fingers causing a small smile to quirk up her swollen, well kissed lips. The memory of skilled kisses and nips on her flesh caused a warmth in her lower anatomy. Oh those touches were fabulous!
She didn't realize that two deep green orbs were peering up at her.
"What are you thinking?"
Hermione blinked, slightly startled, "How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough to bear witness to a rather devilish smile."
Grinning, the young woman leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Minerva's mouth. The latter deeply groaning her appreciation, "Mmmmm."
Encouraged, Hermione kissed the older woman again.
And again.
Her hands moved back down Minerva's back to slide over the muscular globes of her lover's compact backside. She ran her fingertips over the Headmistress' rear causing the woman to tremble with pleasure. More goosebumps appeared.
Hermione leaned down to kiss Minerva again, this time asking permission with her tongue to enter the older woman's mouth. Permission was readily given and two tongues moved over the other in a deliberate, erotic dance.
The young woman moaned as she felt a hand move over to cup her breast. Nimble fingers worried her nipple to near painful hardness.
No words were spoken as they loved each other once more.
The morning sun was peeking through the blinds when Minerva opened her eyes once more. She and Hermione had made love on and off throughout the night.
She gazed at the precious woman sleeping in her arms, her heart filling with a longing she'd never known before. Loving Hermione Granger from afar was one thing, having her here in the bed right next to her was another thing entirely. She knew she had to go back to Hogwarts and yet all she wanted to do was stay right here.
In this moment.
A sadness blanketed the Headmistress as she thought about her impending departure. If Hermione said that she loved her, then she would immediately ask her to come back to Britain with her.
Hermione hadn't said anything.
The young woman was simply willing to accept whatever Minerva chose to do to her. Passionately showing the older woman a fire that aroused the Headmistress to levels of pleasure she'd only experienced a rare few times in the long past heady times of her youth.
She didn't want the young woman to think she was some kind of simpering, sentimental old fool so she did what she thought Hermione wanted. She gave her sex. Passionate, amazing, mind blowing sex.
A moan erupted from pouty lips as Hermione woke to find emerald orbs fastened on her with an intensity that belied her own need for the older woman's touch.
"You are so sexy. You know that?"
Minerva smiled at the comment made from the sexiest witch she'd ever met, "Speak for yourself young lady. You are amazing."
Hermione rose up to straddle the older witch. Both witches moaning as crisp dark curls meshed with a soft chestnut thatch. As sticky wetness caused a delicious sliding of sexes. As strong hands anchored themselves on rounded young hips. As smaller hands found purchase on silky smooth shoulders. As the thrusting of hips and the arching of spines joined in the orchestra of sighs and cries, of grunts and moans, of pure blissful sensation.
The building of the sexual melody culminating in a crescendo of white hot pleasure. Both witches climaxing together. Minerva in the roar of the animagus and Hermione in notes achieved only by the most talented of operetic divas.
It was divine...
...and fleeting as Minerva discovered herself alone in the bed the next time she awoke.
The sun was setting over the Black Lake when the floo began to whine letting the occupants of the Headmistress' office know that someone was coming through.
There were no living persons currently in the office. That did not mean that it was empty however.
Curious portraits of former headmasters & headmistresses looked on as Minerva McGonagall suddenly appeared in the fireplace. Clutched in her hand was her black leather travelling bag.
The devastatingly lost expression on her face caused every single painting to still. Only Albus Dumbledore said anything, "Tabby?"
The older woman looked up at him blankly.
"Are you alright?"
The blankness was replaced by a soul wrenching look of such emotional pain that even the castle itself grieved.
"You found her?" Dumbledore inquired as Minerva placed her travelling bag on a chair next to the fireplace. The Headmistress looked up at her friend and slowly nodded, "We found each other."
Albus frowned, "What happened?"
"Everything."
The portraits watched in horror as the air seemed to leave Minerva's body and she crumpled into the fetal position on the floor in front of her desk. The grief stricken witch heaved great wracking sobs as she curled into herself.
Albus Dumbledore and all the other portraits ached to be of comfort to the poor heartbroken witch but could do nothing other than hold silent vigil. Each portrait subject gripping their frames so hard that painted knuckles turned white.
Long moments later several house elves appeared and gently levitated the nearly comatose witch to her private quarters where they carefully tucked her in to bed. All but one elf moved away to attend to their chores. As they left however, each tiny creature placed a gentle kiss on the Headmistress' brow and offered a silent prayer to the elf god that whatever heartache had gripped the dear Minerva-Tabby would soon pass.
The lone elf, Twinkle, dutifully unpacked the Mistress' bag. He cleaned her clothing and replaced them in the wardrobe.
The note he found tucked into the suitcase, he left for the Mistress to read in the morning. The last thing he did was place her square rimmed spectacles on top of the note resting on her night table.
Sleep did not come to the Headmistress. She tossed and turned. Her mind trying to figure out why Hermione would've left her to wake alone that last time. She thought that perhaps the young woman would be there to tell her that yes indeed she did love her. Unfortunately that didn't happen.
The young woman had crept away. Minerva figured that she'd gotten what she had wanted.
Flinging the blankets away in frustration, the Headmistress rose from her bed, "Perhaps a bit of light reading." She mumbled reaching for her spectacles. There was a folded piece of parchment beneath her glasses. Something she didn't remember placing there. Putting on her eyewear, she picked up the paper, "What is this?"
Her name was written in familiar handwriting on the folded missive. Very familiar handwriting. Penmanship that made the blood drain from the older woman's face.
Hermione's script.
With shaking hands, she opened the parchment and began to read...
My Dearest Minerva,
I guess I am the coward after all. I didn't want to be there when you had to leave. I didn't want to be the one to say goodbye. I've never been good at that.
I meant it when I said that I'd rather have five days of wonderful with you than a lifetime of nothing special. I thank you for these past spectacular days. Days I will treasure for the rest of my life. You gave me what you could and greedily I took it. For that I cannot apologize.
I do apologize for not being completely truthful with you. Perhaps a better choice of words would be that I'm sorry for not telling you how I truly feel about you. You see my dear, I was afraid that you would push me away. That you would tell me that I'm too young to have a relationship with you.
The fact is that I love you Minerva McGonagall.
There, I said it. I love you. I have since as long as I can remember. I probably always will. You can't run away from a letter so now that I've said these precious three words I leave you with a heartfelt wish that you find happiness and perhaps someday you'll meet someone who you'll want to spend the rest of your life with.
Hermione
Minerva was shaking so badly she could hardly see straight as she folded the letter and held it close to her heart, "I have found the one I want to spend the rest of my life with."
Tears fell unimpeded down high boned elegant cheeks.
EPILOGUE
Hermione kissed the photo of Minerva that was attached to her vanity mirror. The one that sat precariously close to a certain trading card of a certain meddling former headmaster.
Albus Dumbledore shot a knowing wink at the young woman as he quickly disappeared from the card.
"What was that about?" The young woman mused as she opened the door to go to work. Moving to the elevator, she was still wondering what Dumbledore was up to. So much so that she bumped into someone who was waiting on the front step, "Pardon me."
"Anytime Miss Granger."
The clipped, precise brogue of a certain animagus fell on Hermione's ears like music. Snapping her eyes up, they came to rest on the piercing emerald eyes of one Minerva McGonagall.
In her hand, she held the parchment that Hermione had written just days prior.
The two women stared at each other for a long moment before the elder of the two spoke quietly, "Those five days were the best of my life."
Hermione smiled, "Mine too."
The older witch stepped closer, "I don't want to settle for five days. How do you feel about a lifetime of wonderful?"
Hermione's chocolate eyes widened, "What are you saying?"
Minerva reached a hesitant hand out to caress her cheek, "I am saying that I love you Hermione. I am asking you to come back to Scotland with me." The older witch held out her hand, "Be with me?"
Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she finally heard those three precious words from the one person who meant the most to her in the whole world. She took Minerva's strong hand in her smaller one and replied, "For always."
The End
AN: Hope you liked it. I wanted to take a break from "Ties" and deal with this plot bunny that's been bugging me for a wee bit. Thanks for reading. Jan & Ali are named in honor of two lovely ladies who I consider dear friends.