To Find That Sparkā¦
Hermione Granger/Minerva McGonagall
Summary: After Hermione's divorce from Ron, she struggles to find meaning in her life again. Minerva, as Headmistress, isolates herself from those around her and begins to lose herself completely into her work. Who could she ever trust to see past her names sake- to look into her eyes and see Minerva and not the iconic Headmistress?
Rating: M
Mostly DH compliant. Ron and Hermione divorced. Not compliant to McGonagall's Pottermore backstory.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, sadly.
A/N: This is a story that I have been wanting to publish for quite some time. There are already a lot more chapters than this, but I wanted to wait and see if anyone liked it before I published more. Reviews are appreciated. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy!
It had been a long year. With Rose and Hugo constantly but playfully aggravating each other and Ron sending her incessant letters about their divorce and custody battle, her mind was scattered and utterly exhausted. She hadn't been able to work with the ministry or even consider an apprenticeship. With her life being displayed every week in the "Golden Trio" update in the prophet (albeit the information was much stretched and not really factual), Hermione had opted to devote her time to her children. Though Rose and Hugo made her infinitely happy with their accidental magic and joyful imagination, her small London apartment often left her with a feeling of loneliness and isolation. Gone were her days of sitting in a library and absorbing information, spending hours a day practicing newly learned spells. Her life revolved around her children and teaching them before they too would be off to Hogwarts. Ron had been adamant that the children didn't attend a Muggle school. The reason behind them going seemed simple enough to Hermione- Rose and Hugo needed to learn how to read, write, and do simple mathematics, just as she had learned at her Muggle school before going to Hogwarts. But with Ron's refusal to allow them to attend, she had scrounged up a small library of magic children's books and spent at least two hours a day trying to get her children to learn how to read.
Sighing, Hermione rolled over in bed and looked at her clock. It was barely 4:30, but she knew that she had to start her day. She sat up, threw off the sheets and stretched. She rolled her neck and slipped her feet into her tall, fuzzy boots. She padded her way to the bathroom. Her eyes immediately found the slight wrinkles taking residence beside her eyes and lips. She knew that at the rate things were going now, her laugh lines would cease to grow and frown lines would begin to crater. She knew that she had to find something to give her a spark to continue, but right now she couldn't find it. With another sigh, she walked into the kitchen and started making tea and a small ham biscuit for breakfast. The clock displayed 4:45, giving her about an hour or so before Rose and Hugo woke up. When her tea was ready, she sat down on the sofa and opened the Daily Prophet. The headline displayed TRANSFIGURATION TEACHER LEAVES HOGWARTS, AGAIN. Hermione gave a slight chuckle. No one had been able to keep the post of Transfiguration teacher for more than three years since Professor McGonagall became Headmistress. Since the Headmistress had only taken a couple of apprentices years before she began teaching, all of whom were employed or dead, no one had been capable enough in the field to satisfy McGonagall. Oh, there were good teachers, of course, but McGonagall made it her second job to pop in and out of the Transfiguration room and observe the current Professor. Though McGonagall never spoke aloud in class, she would often raise her eyebrow at different things the Professor said, leaving no room for doubt that she disagreed with whatever had been said. Hermione had no doubt that the kind of pressure McGonagall put on the Transfiguration teacher was enough to make anyone quit. And once again, it had. Hermione wondered who it would be that McGonagall would finally be happy with, as she knew that McGonagall wouldn't (and truly couldn't) take any apprentices now that she was Headmistress. Her duties at Hogwarts were endless, and training someone just wouldn't be an option. Curious about the teacher who had left this time, Hermione laid the paper down and went to her bookshelf. From it she pulled her copy of Hogwarts Through the Years: A List of The Minds Who Have Graced These Halls. The book had been a gift from Harry for her wedding. Every new school year, the book renewed itself with information about new teachers and first year students, but the book never grew in size. The front of the book, like all books, contained a table of contents, and only that list grew. By simply speaking the year she desired to see, Hermione had access to the information about that particular school year. "2009 Faculty Photographs," she whispered, and the pages immediately flipped themselves and pictures and names arranged themselves on the empty page. Her eyes quickly scrolled to the post of Transfiguration teacher.
Transfiguration
Professor Theressa Mariam Huxten
Trained at Hogwarts, graduated in 1972
Worked in Ministry of Magic in Auror Department, 72-84
Worked in St. Mungo's Hospital as Consultant for Misuse of Transfiguration Spells, 84-92
Professor at Hogwarts from 2007-2009
Level of Mastery Achieved in Transfiguration: Level One
At that last line of information, Hermione knew exactly why the professor hadn't lasted very long at Hogwarts. McGonagall was a documented Level Four Master, although Hermione suspected she had achieved all the way up to the final level 6. Level One was truly a basic Mastery. It required knowledge of roughly twenty upper level spells and 40 hours of studying with at least a Level Two master. Hermione had easily gotten her Level One her last year at Hogwarts. McGonagall spent at least an hour a night working with Hermione, and by the fall after she graduated she took the exam at the Ministry and received her official papers stating her Level One Status. A Level Two was a bit more difficult, and it required not only being able to perform spells, but how to undo them without knowledge of the spell cast or the caster. Level Three required an Animagus (resistered); Level Four (where Minerva was registered) required the ability to use magic while in animagus form. The requirements for Levels Five and Six were classified, but Hermione wondered in McGonagall had achieved them. She placed the book back on the shelf and resumed her seat with the Prophet. Her fingers immediately sought page 3C, which held the "Golden Trio" update. Her body turned hot with anger when a picture showed Ron kissing a blonde, busty woman at a Quidditch match. It wasn't the kissing that bothered her. On the contrary, she thought any woman dumb enough to be wooed by Ron deserved a little bit of pity. No, what angered her was that the picture was taken last Saturday evening- Ron's weekend with the children. Her eyes scanned the bottom of the image, and sure enough, Rose's headband and the top of Hugo's unruly hair were barely visible in the bottom corner. "Damn you. Damn her. Damn this." She grabbed the paper and threw it in the fire. No wonder Rose had been relieved to be back home. Ron saw his children every other weekend, that was it. And even then he couldn't devote one evening to them. Hermione had spent the past 5 years looking after her children. She had given everything up to be a mother, and what did it get her? Alone in this damn apartment.
"Mama..." Hugo's small frame with a mass of red hair appeared at the doorway.
Hermione's heart instantly softened and despite the article, she felt herself smile.
"Good morning darling. Sleep well?" He nodded and made his way to his mom, scrambling on the sofa and into her arms.
"Mmmhm. I dream-ded bout rivers."
"A good dream then?"
"Yep. I swammed an' Rosie were there."
"Did she have fun, too?"
"I think so."
"Good. Go wash up and I'll make you breakfast."
"Cimanon p'ease."
"CiNNamon, dear."
Hugo grumbled, making Hermione smile as she made her way back to the kitchen. She bit into her slightly warm ham biscuit and drained her tea. Reaching into herrobe, she found her wand and made quick work of making Hugo his favorite cinnamon french toast. She glanced at the clock- 5:32. Earlier than he normally awoke, but not bad. He'd need a nap after lunch. Rose probably wouldn't be up till 6:30. Hugo walked back into the den and sat down on the floor and Hermione summoned his TV tray, a gift from Hermione's parents, and placed his breakfast before him.
"Tanks, Mama"
"You're welcome, sweetie."
Hermione sat back down on the couch and began flipping through her Witches Today magazine. Her mind drifted back to her days at Hogwarts, and how her life was everything she never intended it to be.
Minerva rolled her neck for what seemed the millionth time that morning. It was barely 5:30 and she had already been up and working for two hours. She knew that her pattern of work had to stop. Getting to bed well past midnight and sleeping for a mere two hours before she resumed her duties was going to wear her out. Not that she had much of an alternative. She knew that Filius Flitwick, her Deputy, could easily oversee many of her duties, but she didn't have the heart to load him with morework. Sighing, she reached for her cup of Black Pearl tea and continuing going over paperwork. Kingsley Shaklebolt, the current Minister of Magic, was requesting her to attend the International Wizarding Conference. "Idiot." She muttered to herself. Hadn't she told him for the past five years that the conference's new date was during the OWL and NEWT exams? His thick head just couldn't process that bit of information, she mused. She wandlessly moved Kingsley's letter to her fireplace and picked up her daily report on Hogwarts. Nothing new seemed amiss- a Ravenclaw had left the common room for 15 minutes at 3:00 this morning. Two ovens needed serious repairs in the kitchen. The bathroom on the second floor had a leak in the fourth sink. The window on the corridor to the Astronomy Tower was cracked. "Sadie," she called, summoning her house elf. A small crack cut the silence.
"Yes Mistress Minerva?"
"Please describe the ovens needing repairs."
The elf's ears sank.
"We's not asking Mistress for helps. We's can wait for next terms funds."
Minerva smiled. So like them to refuse help.
"I know you aren't asking, my dear, but that was not the request I made."
Quietly, Sadie replied, "The heating coils is not heating evenly. Some times it burns and others its leaves raw. Yesterday its caught somethings on fire and charred the inside, making thems not usable."
Minerva thought about it for a while.
"And how much would it cost to replace them?"
Sadie looked hard at her feet.
"1500 Galleons each, Mistress."
"They'll be new ones by the end of the week."
Minerva's Gringott's account was vast, and since she had been teaching, she really hadn't found anything to spend it on for herself, so using it for Hogwarts was an easy choice. Sadie smiled shyly. "Thank you, Mistress. You'se most kind." Minerva patted her shoulder. "You're welcome."
With a pop, Sadie was gone.
Minerva folded her report and moved to the next letter. It was another application for the Transfiguration post.
Yuris Aven Harmont
Graduated Hogwarts 73
Worked with Ministry in Department of Law Enforcement
No mastery obtained in Transfiguration
Without looking at anything else, she threw the application in the fire. She'd never hire someone without any level of mastery. She chuckled to herself. The last teacher, Theressa, had been kind, smart, and overall a precise teacher. But she had been far too lenient with her students. She would pass students who gave very mediocre performances and grade essays of fourth years on a first year scale. After nearly 85 percent of her students passed her class with Outstanding marks, Minerva knew that she couldn't permit her to continue. After she left, Minerva had taken over her classes, much to the student's chagrin. Secretly, she loved the periods in between new teachers, because in those short hours that she taught, she could forget all the duties of Headmistress and focus on the discipline that had captured her heart so many years ago. Would she ever be happy with anyone? Yes, her subconscious whispered. Minerva felt her heart skip a beat. She knew who she wanted there at Hogwarts, but she also knew that it wouldn't happen. Couldn't. She brushed aside the notion. Swallowing the rest of her tea, she stood up, her back protesting. She made her way to her bathroom. The bathroom and her bedroom were her two major luxuries at Hogwarts. Her bed was massive, about two feet wider than a king bed. Her comforter was made of silk and cotton, and was soft and plump- filled with the tiniest of down feathers. Her bathroom was equally enormous. Her shower had multiple heads that emitted different pressure and scents if she desired, but she kept hers the same- slightly scented with the Muggle perfume Chanel Mademoiselle. With a simple spell, Minerva could transform her shower into a bathtub bigger than the Prefect's. She often used it to swim laps and relax after a long day, but she hadn't had time for that in months. It was barely November, and since the Transfiguration post was now her responsibility, she knew that her life would be packed from sun up to sun down. She slipped off her bathrobe from her shoulders and took off her emerald silk night gown. Wandlessly she undid her long braid and started up her shower, the sweet floral scent already evident to her keen Animagus nose. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair, though still a thick black, was beginning to show a couple of grays. Her wrinkles around her eyes were more defined, and she could definitely see the frown lines taking hold. Her emerald eyes were bright, but they belied her true tiredness. She knew she needed to stop the occasional evening cigarette, but the hot air hitting her lungs and then being exhaled seemed to take her worries away with the swirling smoke. She would have never started if it hadn't been for Albus. Damn him for smoking a pipe and convincing her to try a cigarette on their chess evenings. She smiled to herself. The smell, though acrid, was comforting to her. And she really missed Albus. But she also knew she liked her healthy lungs too. Sighing, she stepped into her hot shower, the water cleansing her momentarily from the stress of her day. Her hair flattened and laid against her strong back. She tipped her head up into the water, and all thoughts of being the Headmistress evaporated with the hot steam.
