The Hat on the Floor
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Oneshot - Short - Fluff -
First MMAD story - First Harry Potter Story -
No spoilers - Set during third or fourth, or fifth book. You choose. - K+
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She came running into the common room at precisely twelve past nine. She swore her watch stopped when she saw what she saw. She was panting loudly, staring into the faces of her two best friends who looked at her blankly.
"I...I can't believe it." She panted and stuttered, not bothering to sit down.
"Wha?" Ron asked, his mouth full of food his mom had sent him for the Easter holiday.
"I just can't..." Hermione sputtered.
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She had good reason to be so confused, for what Hermione had witnessed less than twelve minutes ago, was more unexpected, and confusing then anything in the world. As normal, at nine p.m. she had been exiting the library, passing by Dumbledore's office, to the Gryffindor fat lady, into the common room and off to bed. But somewhere along the way, she had been distracted, and felt the urge to go the long way around, down some deserted hallways.
What she found behind door number two, was her favorite Professor. It wasn't odd for Minerva McGonnagal to be out and about, she often joined Ms. Granger in the library, even. But tonight she was not alone.
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"McGonnagal...she...they..."
"Oh, will you spit it out already?" Harry half yelled. He would never understand a girl's inability to be blunt.
"Dumbledore. And McGonnagal."
"Shut up!" Ron screamed, his food flying off his lap onto the maroon carpet. "Doing what?"
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As Hermione's teenage eyes scanned the hall in front of her, they went from floor to ceiling. At first all she saw were feet, feet very close together. Then she saw a hat discarded on the floor, the very hat that usually sat unmoving on Minerva McGonnagal's bun adorned hair. The pointy witches hat that Hermione had come to know as Minerva's trademark.
The professor of Transfiguration was embraced by the headmaster of the school, who was placing kisses on her almost permanently pursed lips. As Hermione stood motionless, watching this very rare display of...whatever it was, she could hear tiny sounds coming from the direction of her mentors. Though she didn't want to admit it, she knew they were gasps and...other things... from the throat of her female head of house.
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"No? They were...kissing?"
"Well, yea." Hermione said, trying very hard not to think of where the professors might be at this moment.
"Did they catch you watching?"
"Yes." Her skin turned so brightly red, one would have thought her a Weasly.
"What'd they say?" Ron asked.
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When they had looked up, Albus Dumbledore's eyes had gone wide at the sight of his muggle-born student frozen at the end of the hallway. A shocked expression lined her face. His face grew pink as he pushed Minerva away from his with such force she grunted.
"Albus!" She yelled. Wanting to know what the issue was, and why he had stopped. "Oh, Merlin." She snapped under her breath, and rolled her eyes. "Ms. Granger, how many times have I told you not to be in the corridors past nine?" McGonnagal's professor-like voice was shaky.
"I..."
"Hermione, we should probably explain. . ." Dumbledore started, extremely flustered.
"I really don't think it requires explanation, professor." Minerva snapped and glared at him.
"Well, we should at least ask you not to repeat this to fellow classmates?" He suggested aloud.
"Of course." And at the time she had no intention of telling anyone, but as she thought about it, walking toward the common room, the shock over-took her, and she knew this had to be spilled so that she could sleep tonight. Hopefully she could shake the image of that hat on the floor.
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"Blimey. They let ya off that easy?" Ron asked, hearing a door in the distance, and the patter of a professor's feet. "McGonn..."
"No, really?" Hermione quietly and sarcastically interrupted.
"Ms. Granger, Potter, Weasly." She acknowledged them one by one, sweeping her hair from her face.
"Professor." They echoed, laughter present in their voice. She rolled her eyes, glared at Hermione who mustered up a weak smile, and went off to bed.
"I don't even want to know..." Harry whispered when she passed, referring to her hair, which was now out of it's pristine bun and quite tousled. . .