My girlfriend made me do it. :P Hope you enjoy!

No one in their right mind would ever accuse the Headmistress of Hogwarts of being involved in something exciting, let alone anything unscrupulous. Minerva McGonagall was the picture of propriety with her flawless bun, modest witch's robes, and decades of history as a Professor in which not once did anyone accuse her of so much as being unfair. She was a pillar in wizarding society; respected, admired, and sometimes thought to be an example of what a witch ought to strive to be.

So, when Hermione Granger, journalist for the Daily Prophet, was assigned the task of seeking out the esteemed woman's proverbial skeletons, by none other than the witch in question herself, Hermione thought that she was finally up against an impossible task. The Headmistress was perfect, or seemed to be so, and it baffled the twenty-nine year old that McGonagall would agree to an interview, let alone ask for one.

"Why on earth would she have asked for this?" Hermione had asked Kingsley Shaklebolt, Minister of Magic and fellow Order member from the war.

"When she Owled me, she said there were aspects of her life that she was tired of hiding," he'd said, "and that she would trust you to present those things in a way which, I quote, would leave her reputation in just the sort of shambles she wanted."

"She's gone mad," Hermione had concluded.

"She was always a bit mad," Kingsley had countered, "but we all owe Minerva, so I expect you to do as she asks."

Her supervisor at the Prophet, after hearing about the requested interview, had whole heartedly agreed to print whatever Hermione found out, but that he expected her to dig up more than Ol' McGonagall wanted her to find. Her assignment now entailed finding a stack of truths that she herself didn't think she was prepared to learn, and her admiration for the older witch made her very wary to present it to the Wizarding world. Perhaps the older woman was prepared to face the music of whatever she'd so effectively been hiding, but Hermione wasn't certain the Wizarding world was prepared to accept it.

Alas, two days after speaking with Kingsley, she found herself Apparating not to the gates of Hogwarts, but to Minerva's home in the Scottish Highlands. It was summer break, so of course the Headmistress was not required to remain at Hogwarts, but according to Harry, who was just as baffled about this whole thing as she was, absolutely no one ever got invited to set foot inside McGonagall Manor. As far as Harry knew, who'd been told by Arthur Weasley, the McGonagall properties had not had visitors since sometime in the seventies, when Minerva's parents had died and been laid to rest there.

"Hermione Granger, here upon request of Minerva McGonagall," the young journalist announced to the ornate pair of stone Griffins that guarded the gate to the estate.

The hinges of the gate creaked as they swung open, like fingernails on a chalkboard, and Hermione clenched her teeth as she moved forward along the cobblestone path. It had rained the night before, and while drops of water still lingered on the grass, the walkway was perfectly dry. Hermione supposed it was some sort of enchantment. As few steps later, she noticed a shimmering around her, and another step after that she realized that it was not the path that was charmed, but that a sort of tunnel arched over and along the area, enclosing the walkway in a perfectly temperate environment which Hermione imagined would shield against any sort of weather, allowing a traveler to apparate directly to the gate, and not be exposed to the elements whilst walking the four-hundred meters up to the front door. Hermione also suspected that the enchantment would be manipulated in some way to help protect the Manor from a potential intruder.

Hermione took her time along the path, mentally thinking about how this amazing bit of enchantment was done, and wondering when it had been put into place. She knew that Minerva's brothers and parents had been killed on this very property, so she didn't think, with as effective a defense as this was, that it had been in place then. The question remained one of whom Minerva put this in place for; herself? Hermione doubted it. No, there had to be someone else who she'd been trying to offer protection for.

"Welcome," a clipped Scottish voice stated. "to McGonagall Manor."

Hermione's eyes leveled on the speaker, and found to no surprise that her former Professor was standing on the stoop just ahead of her. "Thank you, Headmistress," she replied.

"Just Minerva will do," the elder witch insisted. "An interview about my personal life does warrant some level of familiarity."

"Very well," Hermione acquiesced. "Minerva then. Where would you like to, eh… do this?"

The innuendo did not escape either woman, both blushing lightly at the comment. "In the den, I suppose," the Scottish woman suggested. "Though would you like the grand tour first?"

The notion of getting to look around the manor no one ever got invited to was too exciting for Hermione to even pretend to be disinterested in. A smile crept on her lips, and the other woman nodded knowingly. "This way, Hermione," she said, offering entry into the house.

The tour took a solid thirty minutes. Minerva showed her the kitchen, a small breakfast room with a wonderful bay window, a formal dining room that Hermione guessed would easily sit thirty people, and multiple offices and other sorts of minor rooms on the ground level. The second floor held two master suites, and six other bedrooms, each decorated differently. Minerva stated that the rooms were charmed to dress themselves attuned to whomever was currently or had most recently taken their ease in. Another couple of a mystery rooms were on the second level, though Minerva passed them by without comment, and Hermione's good manners knew better than to ask. She was already getting a tour a lot of other people only dreamed about.

The den, which they returned to after the tour, was among the rooms on the ground level, was at least six-hundred square feet, and included a fireplace, three walls worth of bookshelves, and a centerpiece of sofas and coffee tables arranged to form a very intimate gathering place. Hermione felt quite at home in this room, and quickly kicked off her shoes and curled up on one of the plush armchairs.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Minerva said with a smirk.

Hermione had the good grace to blush, moving to get her feet off the sofa, though the other woman quickly shook her head, kicked off her own shoes, and sat across from Hermione in much the same position.

"So, Minerva," Hermione said just after a House Elf had deposited a tea tray in front of them, "what is it that you want the wizarding world to know?"

"Oh, this and that," the other woman mused. A mischievous glint filled her stunning green eyes, and with a lurch, Hermione remembered why she'd had such a crush on the older witch while she'd been a student at Hogwarts. "I suppose the what would depend on you asking the right questions, Hermione. Merlin knows you did a fair amount of… stalking of my person whilst you were a student."

"I did not!"

"Did so!" Minerva argued. "Don't fib. It's not becoming of such a lovely young woman."

Hermione was sure her face was beet red by now. Minerva was baiting her, she knew, and this new side of the Headmistress' personality was enthralling to say the least. "Well," she stuttered. "First question…"

"Of course, m'lady," Minerva said coyly.

"Er, well, are the rumors about your retirement next year founded?" she asked, trying to remember the list of questions she'd come up with before arriving at the manor.

Minerva sighed, and looked thoughtful as she began unpinning her iconic bun, eventually shaking her head to allow a mass of ebony curls to fall down on her shoulders. It was then that Hermione took in the rest of her former Professor's appearance. She was wearing muggle clothing - Hermione couldn't believe she was just now noticing that. The young journalist had been so caught up in the house that she'd not even looked too closely at the… oh my, very well fitting jeans and decidedly low scoop neck shirt. Hermione coughed, reminding herself to look at this woman's face, and not to try and imagine the swell of those very nice breasts without clothing buggering the view.

"It is," Minerva finally answered. "Filius will be taking over as Headmaster next fall. As the saying goes, I have done my time."

"And what's next for you, then?"

"I'm hoping to find someone to settle down with," the other woman answered. "Between the war and my duty to Hogwarts, there never has been much time for a personal life. I want to have the freedom to find a willing woman…"

Hermione coughed. "Woman?"

"... and not be forced to keep it a secret because of my profession," Minerva finished with a laugh. "Really, is it so shocking to find out I'm a lesbian, Hermione? You're one."

"Professor!" Hermione yelped. That fact about herself was not public knowledge. The boys knew, of course, but very few others did. How on earth had the Headmistress found out?

"I told you, my dear, just Minerva will do."

"But!"

"For goodness sake, Hermione, if you don't stop blushing I'm going to get the idea that your former crush on me is not so former after all," Minerva quipped.

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Hermione groaned. "Do you always flirt with your interviewers?"

"Is that an official question?"

"Yes!" Hermione replied indignantly.

"Well, no, not really," Minerva replied. "Though I can't say I've ever been interviewed by someone so alluring before."

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. "Professor…"

"Minerva…" the older woman insisted with a sigh.

Hermione put up her hand with one finger pointed - the universal sign for 'I'm talking!' - and Minerva rolled her eyes. "Professor," she said again with strong emphasis, "Why do you wish to out yourself preemptively? What if whoever you dated prefered to remain… unknown?"

"Well if that were the case, I would not be dating them," the older woman stated firmly. "I've spent the entirety of my life hiding my sexuality for one reason or another, and enough is enough already. I spend nine months of the year in a castle filled with young people who are at perfect liberty to snog and grope and occasionally shag in public places, and after all these years of teaching, I'm bloody jealous!"

"I never shagged in public…" Hermione muttered under her breath.

"I'd certainly remember if you had, my dear," Minerva countered.

Hermione threw her quill at Minerva. "You are IMPOSSIBLE!"

The older woman tried to feign innocence, but her former protege was not fooled. "I could get quite used to getting a rise out of you. It's highly entertaining."

"Oh really?" Hermione huffed. "So happy to amuse you!"

"Are you single?"

"Why do you care?" Hermione snapped, her pile of papers falling to the floor, and her hand shaking in fury at the audacity of this woman.

"Well, I was thinking of asking you out on a date," Minerva shrugged. "Though I'd only do that if you are single. I've never been the sort to endorse cheating."

Hermione just stared for a moment, and it was nearly a minute later before she realized she'd been holding her breath. Minerva McGonagall… was asking… her… out! Harry's new favorite phrase which he'd picked up at Uni in America, came to mind. What. The. Fuck?

"Are you serious?" she asked in barely more than a whisper. "I swear to god McGonagall, if you are having one on me, because you know how I feel about you, I will bloody end you."

"I'm quite serious," Minerva insisted, expression matching her words, though there was still a measure of amusement in her relaxed posture, and a twinkle in her eye that Hermione was certain she'd stolen from Albus. "You're intelligent, kind, beautiful, thoughtful, honest, and like tits. Everything I look for in a woman. Can't say I know much about what you would be looking for, but considering that you obviously held some attraction toward me in the past, I figured it wasn't too out of the realms of possibility that you might be agreeable to somewhat less of a professional relationship with me.

As much as Hermione wanted to say yes right there on the spot, this new Minerva was almost scaring her. Perhaps, she could get to know this Minerva better, and down the road, she'd agree to go out with the older woman, but not now. "It's been years since I felt that way about you," she attempted to lie.

"Two minutes ago you said feel, Hermione," Minerva said gently. "Present tense, and in the heat of anger, which I daresay is when anyone is most honest. As you have not countered my suggestion with informing me that you are seeing someone, I can reasonably conclude that you are indeed single, which leads me to ask why you'd hesitate."

"Thought I was the one asking the questions," Hermione mumbled in defeat.

"Well, you seemed a bit distracted by my cleavage, so I figured I'd help things along."

"You! You!" Hermione sputtered. "You are seriously freaking me out!"

"Ah, so the bold approach is not to your liking?" Minerva inquired. "Tsk, tsk, and you are supposed to be a Gryffindor."

Hermione just sat there gaping like a fish. Despite that yes, she was freaking out, this very blunt Minerva was just as attractive as the reserved woman Hermione had fallen in love with years ago. She was grappling over how they were one in the same, and processing the notion that Minerva might be attracted to her.

Suddenly, Minerva put down her cup of tea and stood, slowly moving toward Hermione, locking eye contact. Hermione felt frozen in place, unable to move much less breathe, as long elegant fingers lightly caressed her jaw.

"Oh my god…" Hermione moaned softly.

"I really am a bit too old to do subtle seduction," Minerva whispered. "But gentle, loving… wooing… yes, that I can manage."

"You've gone mad," the younger witch accused, nonetheless leaning into Minerva's touch.

"Mad for you, perhaps," she confessed. "Honestly, when I saw you coming up the walk… you've grown into a beautiful woman, and it's never been a secret that there was chemistry between us. Surely you remember all those late night teas in my quarters at Hogwarts…"

"Uhuh…" Hermione agreed, not moving as Minerva leaned forward.

The older woman's lips were mere inches from her own now. Hermione could smell the scent of tea and ginger newts on her breath, and she stared unblinking into knowing green eyes.

"If you weren't my student…"

"I'm not anymore," Hermione quickly reminded her. How had she gone from insisting to herself to take this new development slow, to wishing with every fiber of her being that Minerva would just kiss her already?

"I know," Minerva purred. "Hermione, I'd like to kiss you."

"Bloody hell, woman!" the younger woman groaned. "Isn't fifteen years of torture enough? Just kiss me!"

"As you wish," Minerva said, pulling Hermione out of the chair as she slowly stood upright, allowing their bodies to melt together before finally, lips met. While the coming together was gentle, the kiss became fierce in mere moments, and before Hermione had really even grown accustomed to the feel of Minerva's lips, she felt the other woman's fingers begin to desperately work on unbuttoning her oxford, and Hermione's fingers slipped under Minerva's cotton shirt and ran her fingers over the soft skin underneath.

"Perhaps we should move…" Minerva panted as Hermione's teeth scraped at her neck. "... to my bedroom."

Memory of the tour not an hour ago fresh in her mind, Hermione apparated the two of them directly to the older woman's master suite, not two feet from the bed. "Figured you'd have already pulled down the wards," she mumbled.

"If you'd not apparated us, I'd have done so a moment later," Minerva agreed as she pushed Hermione roughly onto the bed.

The lack of body heat left Hermione feeling lost, but the feeling only lasted a moment, as Minerva quickly joined her, pushing away Hermione's bra and latching onto her nipple, as her fingernails clawed at Hermione's side, causing her to hiss in pain.

A good sort of pain, she decided then and there. "Min…" she groaned, hips thrusting of their own accord.

The next few minutes were a bit of a frenzied blur, but somehow or another they both managed to get completely naked, and when the reality of what, or rather whom she was doing didn't really hit Hermione until she was thrusting two fingers into Minerva's tight core, causing the older witch to release a throaty moan. "Oh… 'mione…"

"Is this what you wanted?" Hermione asked fiercely, thrusting her hand again.

"Yes!" Minerva whimpered.

Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear, and then bent low and flicked her tongue upwards on a particularly sensitive nub which rested just above where her fingers were still enveloped. "Hummm," she groaned, relishing in the taste. This. Was. Heaven.

Twenty minutes and four orgasms later, Hermione dragged her body across Minerva's sweat covered skin and settled on top of the older woman. "Oh dear god," she whimpered.

"Did I wear you out, old woman?" Hermione asked cheekily.

"Not a chance!" Minerva quipped. "I will be rebounding in but a moment."

"Uhuh," Hermione smirked. "Mighty McGonagall not admitting defeat, I see."

"There is no defeat!" the older witch grumbled. "Especially not at the hands of a young whipper snapper like you!"

"You like my hands, I think."

"Well, yes!" Minerva grinned. "I rather think I do."

"My handwriting is just wonderful, isn't it?"

"That too."

"I'm also an excellent masseuse."

Minerva looked amused. "Well, I'll be sure to keep that in mind. First, however…"

Hermione yelped as Minerva flipped her body over, switching their positions, and the game began again. The younger witch didn't form a coherent thought for at least the next thirty minutes - obviously Minerva was trying to even a score, and even it she most certainly did.

The journalist was glad she'd not had anything else in her diary for the day, as it freed her up to pass out in Minerva's arms after the fact, and when they awoke some hours later, to enjoy some languorous kissing before the inevitable questions, ones not to be included in the interview, came up.

"So what now?" Hermione asked. "Are you actually wanting to date, or was this a one off?"

"Bugger dating," Minerva mumbled. "Highly overrated."

Hermione tried not to look hurt, but the comment did sting. Long buried feelings for this woman had surfaced with a vengeance, and she decided here and now that she would do everything she could to change Minerva's mind.

"Marry me." Minerva said. "My goal was for settling down, finding a life partner, but I think my life partner found me. So, Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

The younger woman stared at her former Professor in shock. "Excuse me?"

"Well I thought I was quite plain, but if you need a detailed explanation…"

"No, no!" Hermione cut her off. "I know what you mean, I just want to be sure you actually mean it!"

"When have I ever said something I didn't mean?" Minerva asked pointedly.

Hermione was quiet for a moment, deep in thought and Minerva left her to it. There was no fear in the older woman's eyes. She seemed to have no doubt that Hermione would say yes - such was the confidence in how tightly she was holding the younger woman in her arms.

"Alright," Hermione finally said. "Let's get married."

"When?" Minerva asked.

"Next year, after you retire, I should think," Hermione replied. "I owe Harry and Ron at least some time to get used to the notion. They are both going to shit kittens when I tell them about this."

"What of your parents?"

"Haven't spoken to them in years."

"Alright then," Minerva said. "I suppose no one else really matters."

"To me, true," the younger woman agreed, "though what of you? Surely you'll want to tell Filius and Pomona, at least."

Suddenly, the fireplace roared to life, signaling a floo call. Minerva groaned, getting out of bed and slipping on a robe, signaling to a hook on the other side of the bed which held a robe for Hermione's use.

"Molly, Arthur?" Minerva greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"We were wondering if you'd like to come to dinn…" Molly started to say. "Minerva, is that Hermione with you?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Indeed it is."

"What's she doing there?" the Weasley matriarch inquired.

"What one would expect my fiance to be doing in my bedroom," Minerva said with a soft smile.

"What… your… what?" Molly sputtered. "Minerva McGonagall!"

"Are you honestly surprised, dear?" Arthur inquired. "Congratulations, both of you."

"Well then," Molly said, taking a calming breath. "You best both come over for dinner then, because if you don't tell the family tonight, I will."

Moments like this, Hermione was reminded just who mothered Fred and George Weasley. "We'll be there," she said hurriedly. "Right, darling?"

Minerva chuckled. "Of course. I wouldn't miss the expression on young Ronald's face when he finds out for the world."

"See you at six, then." Arthur said before cutting off the connection.

"Well," Minerva sighed. "Guess we should get up and dress then."

"We have hours…" Hermione pointed out, hoping to drag her intended back to bed for a bit longer.

"I am not showing up at the Burrow with you, prior to purchasing you an engagement ring," the older woman said pointedly. "That said, we do both need a shower…"

Hermione grinned, and stood to chase her future into the adjoining bathroom.

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