BETA READ by Kreacher's Peepers

Chapter 1

"Minerva Gaia McGonagall!"

The headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry did not halt at the sound of her name, spoken by her lover of close to two years. Instead, she just continued ahead, down the last few stairs without a word or any indication she had heard her, needing to leave there… needing air. They hadn't had an argument really. Minerva McGonagall didn't run from any discussion or any topic. The witch had a seemingly natural ability to circumnavigate certain themes and to lead conversation away from them without necessarily being unkind. Of course, she could be unkind when the person who asked had no business whatsoever in it. Minerva's tone remained gentle when it was in fact someone she cared about, though no less strict or determined. Minerva McGonagall was not a coward after all.

That was one of the many reasons why Hermione Jean Granger had fallen for her – and madly so indeed. Their relationship seemed intricate to the eye of the beholder, and in some senses, it was… but not like others might believe. Minerva was older and was Hermione's former professor, but they were often on the same level when it really came down to it. They just understood each other. Minerva and Hermione certainly didn't show a lot of affection for each other in public, but that was who they were – especially Minerva. If you could see through that first albeit rather thick layer, you saw the love between them was overwhelming. It shone deep within teal green eyes as they connected with mocha and reflected right back in a way a lone star might shine at night in a sky of blackness. Little gestures and the way they reassuringly smiled at each other for a second or even less, were always there when you cared to look instead of just seeing. They both liked it that way, knew the affection was there in abundance and became bolder once they were alone – and rather regularly, too.

They had not spent a night apart since first having got together. Of course, it did happen that Minerva sometimes returned to her quarters late, usually after a meeting with the extended Board of Governors – what with so many changes in staff and other matters since the Battle on May 2, 1998. Then again, it also happened in return that Hermione got home late from the Ministry, too – what with her being a perfectionist, and refusing to go home before all work had been done which she had scheduled to do, including what might have come in during day. She knew once home, little work would get done with a Minerva McGonagall distracting her. She didn't do it on purpose, and she meant a lot more than a simple distraction… but still, was one nonetheless. No matter how busy their schedules or how late it got, both women always returned home at night. They always returned to each other, holding one another close at night just like every other one.

Indeed, Minerva McGonagall was a distraction for Hermione. She was much older and her hair had begun to grey. She showed other signs of age, too. None of that mattered to Hermione, though. She could see the woman beneath, and that woman had just… caught her attention easily. The few who were allowed to get to know Minerva on a more personal level, would agree she had a certain air of mystery about her at all times, mixed with beauty carried over many years.

Minerva was what some called 'a woman of austere beauty'. She was a kind woman underneath her always strict exterior, who would die for those she loved if needed, too. There were very few who ever got to see that one side, but… once you did know, you couldn't help not like her; Hermione couldn't help not love her even.

"Minerva!"

As the elder woman reached over to the doorknob and touched the cold copper with the intention of leaving the room – she hadn't said a word of even whereto – Hermione's wand waved through the air, locking it at once with a wordless spell that was trickier than one easily countered by Alohomora. She fully expected the other woman to turn back at her then, her teal green eyes ablaze, nostrils flared… but it didn't happen. Instead, Minerva remained right where she was, back turned to her and unmoving.

Hermione grew worried at this, a crease forming on her forehead. She slowly continued the rest of the steps down until she, too, stepped into the living room of the headmistress' personal quarters, tightening her dressing gown, which Hermione had managed to snatch from the peg at the door, not knowing where she would have to follow her lover to.

They had had a discussion of sorts. What couple never had those after all? This had never happened before, though; never had Minerva left the room just like that, without as much as a word. Confusion showed, as she stepped over to where Minerva stood. The two had been lying in bed, lost in the afterglow beside one another, the sides of their bodies slightly touching, when Hermione had asked if she had ever thought about children. Minerva hadn't answered until Hermione had gently repeated herself, which she had not thought immediately strange. The tone in which she finally answered had piqued her slightly, though. It had seemed unusually devoid of emotion, as she only replied, "I have."

Minerva had not even slightly turned her head on the pillow to eye her as she asked Hermione's opinion on the matter – which she usually did when Hermione posed that kind of question, and that really had piqued the younger witch. She had slowly leant up on her elbows to look at her partner and frowned, asking if she was okay, and whether she had said something wrong. She laid back down again as Minerva shook her head in denial, followed by a hollow voice saying she was fine. Hermione had learned not to argue with Minerva on that, whether the 'fine' was doubtful at times or not. She had unconsciously sought Minerva's hand and held on, her eyes upon the ceiling when she had continued that she had always really wanted children of her own, but hadn't thought much more on it until lately – most likely because there had never been someone she wanted to have a child with, let alone more than one. She had, however, given it a rather great deal of thought since meeting Minerva.

Minerva had been quite quiet for some time then, but Hermione only got concerned when the hand within hers wriggled free, followed by her feeling the mattress buoying beside her. The younger woman had raised herself on her elbows once more, her forehead scrunching in deep confusion and her lips whispering Minerva's name softly. She watched as the elder woman got dressed in absolute silence. Within seconds, it seemed, before she even had the chance to ask why or say anything more on it – maybe she had lain there gazing just a tad longer than she thought – Minerva had finished and left the room they shared. Hermione thought she had heard a sound much like a sob [echo?] through the silence of the room before the door shut behind her.

Hermione did not speak as she came to Minerva's side, moving her hand to a shoulder that was lightly shaking. She couldn't see it, only feel it. With little force used, she turned her lover to face her and saw no anger, only tears in the elder witch's eyes, shimmering within teal green and threatening to fall. Without asking or saying anything more, she guided the elder witch into her arms and just held her for now.