Not for the faint of heart. Enjoy. :)

Hermione looked in horror at the figure laying beaten and unconscious in an otherwise abandoned classroom. The defeat of Voldemort only hours before suddenly felt for naught to her, as she slowly approached the naked form of her Professor, Minerva McGonagall. She was alive, Hermione could tell, but not by much. The Transfiguration expert looked frail, laying sprawled over the desk like she was, wrists and legs bound apart, leaving her body exposed in the most intimate way possible. Hermione shuddered, seeing blood trailing down the older woman's thighs, knowing what it meant. Angry claw marks on Minerva's hips and back, signs of bruising on her neck, and chucks of her long, ebony hair, pulled off her scalp in chunks...were all indications of rape. Very, very, violent rape.

"Oh, gods," Hermione whispered. Her own voice, soft that it was, snapped her out of her shock. She took off her own jacket and quickly Transfigured it into a thick cloak, draping it over Minerva's figure.

The moan that came out of her Professor's mouth as a result startled Hermione, but she kept moving. She unbound Minerva's arms, noting at least one fracture that would need tended to, and then unbound her legs, finding several welts that would also need addressed. "It's alright, Professor," Hermione said softly. "I've got you."

Minerva's body fell limply into her arms, and Hermione was surprised at just how light the woman was. No robes certainly had something to do with it - McGonagall's were known to be heavy - but Hermione thought that the stress of the last year probably had something to do with it as well. Hermione, knowing the wards were down all over the castle, apparated the two of them directly to Minerva's personal rooms. She'd only been there a few times before, but she thought her mentor would prefer to be taken there, rather than to the decidedly public forum of the Hospital Wing. Upon arriving, Hermione levitated Minerva to her bed, drawing back the comforter and placing the woman on top the sheet. She then pulled another sheet over the older witch, before going over the Minerva's fireplace.

"Hospital Wing," she called, throwing some Floo Powder into the low flames.

Poppy Pomfrey's head popped into the flames a moment later. "Miss Granger? What are you doing in Professor McGonagall's quarters?"

"She's here as well," Hermione stated. "She's...injured, and I rather think she'd prefer if students did not see her as she is."

"Did she say that?" Poppy asked.

"She's not said anything," the young witch replied. "As I found her unconscious, and she has not as of yet woken."

"I can come through, then," the Matron nodded. "Just let me grab some things. Can you give me an idea of her injuries?"

"Are you alone?" Hermione asked, concerned that anyone might overhear what she was certain Minerva would never want the general school population to know.

"Yes," Poppy replied, brow furrowed. "What is it, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Bring what you need to treat broken bones, cuts, welts, and severe bruising...as well as anything else you would need to heal injuries that would result from a brutal rape."

The Hogwarts' Nurse's eyes got wide and pained. "Oh my...are you certain?"

"I found her bound, legs and arms tied to a desk, spread eagle," Hermione said quietly, beginning to cry. The reality of the what had happened to her beloved Professor, to the woman she cared for more than she should, was beginning to truly sink in. "She was totally naked, beaten and bloody."

"I'll be right there," Poppy said, head at once vanishing from the fireplace. All of two minutes later, the flames roared to life again, and the Matron stepped through, nodding as Hermione pointed towards Minerva's bedroom.

"Can I help?" Hermione asked, starting to follow.

"I'm certain Professor McGonagall would not want you to see her…"

"Madam Pomfrey...Poppy," Hermione said sternly. "I've already seen all there is to see. If you can use my help...what Minerva may or may not want me to see was made a non-issue the moment I walked into that classroom."

"Very well, Hermione," Poppy replied after a moment, nodding for her to join her. "It's obvious you care for her...and she will need that in the days to come."

"Whatever I can do to help…"

Minerva woke feeling like she'd been hit by the Knight Bus. The last thing she remembered was…

Fighting Death Eaters.

Following Greyback as he chased after a couple of young Gryffindors who had not left the castle.

Greyback giving up his pursuit of the children and turning on her.

Her surprise as his attack changed from one of spellwork to a fallen beam hitting the side of her head…

Then nothing for a while. She'd woken next, feeling cold air on her skin, and a rough wooden desk. Minerva recalled wondering if she'd fallen asleep while grading papers, but...why was she naked?

And… why were her arms and legs bound?

Then, with a flash of pain and disturbing images, Minerva remembered a splintered board hitting the back of her bare thighs...and everything that followed. Memory of the event looping in her mind, the Transfiguration Professor did what any woman in such a situation might do.

She screamed.

"Hey, hey," a gentle voice said soothingly. "It's okay, you're safe, Minerva."

Warm arms grabbed her from behind, pulling her close in a comforting embrace. "NO!" she still screamed.

"It's over, Minerva," the voice said, holding tightly as the older witch struggled. "He's gone."

"Gods…" she whimpered, giving in and settling into who-know-whose arms. "Oh...gods…"

The unknown source of comfort hummed a calming tune, and after a few more minutes, in occurred to her that she did not know the identity of who was holding her still scantily clad body. "Who…" she whispered, turning her head. "Miss...Granger?"

What the hell was a STUDENT doing in her quarters, holding her like this?

"I found you," the young woman explained, as if reading her mind. "I brought you here...called Poppy. No one else knows what's happened."

Minerva nodded, accepting the situation. Embarrassing as it was for a student to see her like this, if it had to be a student who found her, she was grateful it had been her protegé. She'd never met anyone quite like Hermione Granger. She'd hoped, after the girl graduated, that the two might become friends. Not that this was an ideal way to go about it, but the situation, if there was a silver lining to be found, was a surefire way to create a more personal relationship between them. That said, she was never the type to want to impose… "Miss Granger, you don't have to…"

"Hermione," the young witch corrected softly. "And I want to be here. Let me help you through this...as I do understand, to some degree, what you are going through."

"What?!" Minerva exclaimed, fully understanding what her student was hinting at.

"Harry was not the only one of your cubs who suffered abuse at home," Hermione explained vaguely.

Minerva was furious. "When I get my hands on…"

Hermione chuckled. "Let's worry about you for now, Minerva."

"Hermione…" the older witch sighed, resigning herself to the care of the young woman still holding tightly to her, stroking her hair softly. "Thank you…"

When Poppy walked in several hours later to check on her colleague, she was surprised to find Hermione Granger laying in bed with Minerva, who was clinging tightly to her student, and sound asleep.

"Hermione?" Poppy whispered.

The young witch in question tilted her head and nodded. "She was awake for about an hour...remembered what happened. She started to thrash about, so I grabbed her to keep her from irritating her wounds, and once she calmed down she refused to let go of me."

"Do you need me to…?"

"No," Hermione assured the school Matron. "I'm fine here. Just, please let Harry and Ron know I'm safe. It's been hours...I'm sure they have taken note of my absence by now."

Poppy smiled. "Mr. Potter came to me, asking after you, almost immediately after I returned earlier," she said. "I told him that you were assisting me with a critical patient, and not to fret. I'm sure he passed the word to Mr. Weasley."

The conversation caused Minerva to stir. "Poppy?" she asked groggily.

"Yes, Minerva," the Matron replied softly. "How do you feel?"

"I've been better," the ebony haired woman quipped.

"Well you still have a talent for stating the obvious," Poppy huffed. "I guess that's good, though."

"Hermione?" Minerva asked, turning to look at the woman still holding her. "You're still here?"

"Passing out in my arms is not enough to get rid of me," the younger witch replied with a wry grin.

"If finding me as you did," Minerva frowned, "wasn't enough to make you run the other way, I don't know what would."

"Not a damn thing," Hermione said firmly, placing a kiss on the older witch's temple. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me now."

"You seem to have acquired a Knight in shining armor, Minerva," Poppy said with a smile. "This one is a keeper. You might as well marry her."

Hermione blushed, which Poppy obviously took note of, by the look of amusement on her face. Minerva blushed too, Hermione noted, which raised a few questions in the younger witch's head.

Was Minerva a lesbian?

Single?

Possibly attracted to...her?

Gryffindor courage beside her, Hermione added to the banter. "I should only be so lucky if she would," she said.

"I believe…" Poppy said slowly, grinning at the both of them. "I shall take my leave. You are obviously in good hands, Minerva."

After Poppy left, Minerva couldn't help but look at Hermione curiously. Was her student… attracted to her? Really? The notion that a beautiful young which, a very intelligent one at that, might be attracted to her...especially knowing what she'd just been through… the notion was simply baffling. As much as she knew she was not ready to engage in any sort of intimate relationship, she couldn't help but admit to herself that the notion of a future relationship with Hermione Granger was not… unappealing.

Most people, after being brutally raped as she had just been, would find themselves utterly broken and unable to function for a given time. She had seen it happen dozens of time in her life. Minerva, however, had always been the type to accept things as they happened, and move on. She would have become a bitter woman, three wars later, if she believed any different. While she certainly wasn't pleased about being violated and beaten, she knew it wouldn't break her. In time, she'd be able to remember and not flinch as she was now. In time, she'd move on. Right now, she'd just pretend to be okay. As her father had often said - 'Fake it till you make it, cub.'

The wonderful thing about Hermione, Minerva thought, eyeing the woman who seemed to be waiting for her say something, was that the young woman was perfectly aware of what she'd just been through, and sensible a witch that she was, wouldn't press, no matter how attracted she may or may not be.

"So…" Hermione prompted. "I was thinking that perhaps we might make an appearance in the Great Hall for dinner. "I got an Owl from Harry while you were sleeping, saying that the crews have gotten that area cleaned up pretty well, and are planning on a meal this evening."

"How many remain in the castle?" Minerva asked, surprised that anyone had, after the battle that was undoubtedly plaguing many of their dreams.

"From what Harry said," Hermione replied, "Not only have most who were here for the battle last night remained, but dozens of others have come to assist in the clean up."

Suddenly, a tap on Minerva's window caught their attention. "Speaking of owls…" the older witch said.

Hermione nodded and stood up, walking over the the window and allowing the bird to enter. The tawny Owl gliding over the Minerva and dropped an envelope on her lap, a letter, according to the seal, from the Ministry of Magic.

"Go up to the Owlery, Dune," Hermione said to the bird. "Treats are up there."

"I didn't know you were so familiar with Kingsley's owl," Minerva mused.

"Is that who he belongs to?" Hermione asked. "He's never said…"

"Said?" the Transfiguration asked, confused.

Hermione blushed. "Oh...I... um...managed to become an animagus at the end of our sixth year," she admitted. "I didn't register because I knew Harry, Ron and I would be on the run, so telling the Ministry...well, you understand."

"And your form is that of an owl?" Minerva concluded, realizing that like she and other felines could speak, an owl form would allow Hermione to converse with other owls.

"Yes."

"Show me?" the older witch asked of her student.

Hermione smiled brightly, and then with a soft pop, a chestnut colored barn owl with chocolate eyes floated over to where Minerva was still resting on bed, and hooted softly.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," the Professor said with a genuine smile, reaching out and stroking the plumage.

"I'm glad you think so," Hermione said with a saucy grin, upon reverting to her human state at the foot of Minerva's bed. "You're quite beautiful yourself, you know."

"I...I...I mean...that is…" Minerva stuttered in surprise at Hermione's blatant advance.

"Minerva," Hermione said gently, resting her hand on the older witch's duvet covered leg. "Poppy all but told me you're a lesbian, and if you haven't figured out by now how much I care for you, then you are more daft than Ron… and that's saying something."

"Hermione…" the older witch started, wanting to express that while interested, she wasn't ready. "I just…"

Hermione smiled. "Minerva, I know that you're not ready for anything now. I just wanted you to know, now that I realize that the notion of us...together… is not totally impossible, that I am interested in what the future might bring for us."

Minerva had no idea how she'd gotten so lucky, to have met, not to mention caught the interest of, such an incredible witch. "As am I," she whispered, reaching out and laying her hand on top of Hermione's.

It was a curious thing, to the hundreds of people sitting down to dinner in the Great Hall, how close Hermione Granger was sticking to Professor Minerva McGonagall - who rumor had it, had been elected by the Board of Governors to become Hogwarts' Headmistress. If they didn't know any better, they might have suspected there was some sort of romance between the two.

Hermione, presently, was less concerned with wooing her Professor - that would come later, she thought with a grin - and more concerned with protecting her from all the people who bustled around them, and them from her. As they had entered the Hall, Arthur Weasley had come up behind them and tapped Minerva on the shoulder, at which point the older witch's mind had flashed back to her recent assault, turned about, and nearly decked the poor man. Hermione's quick reflexes had stopped her, much to the confusion of the Weasley patriarch, and since then Hermione had held tightly to her companion's hand whilst they mingled.

They had eaten dinner together, not seeming too out of place side by side, as no one was sitting according to House, nor were the teachers seated on the dias. Today, the day after the battle, they were all equals. By the time the meal came to a close, Hermione noticed that Minerva's eyes were darting about suspiciously, and she'd quietly urged the older woman to take her leave.

Hermione, much to the annoyance of Harry and Ron, who had hoped to spend some time with her, had also said her goodnights, and followed Minerva out of the Hall.

"Will you be returning to the Tower tonight?" Minerva asked, as Hermione trotted to catch up with her.

"Not likely," Hermione said, taking the older witch's hand again. " And I must say that was a dreadful attempt at getting rid of me."

Minerva huffed. "Even my best attempt, I imagine, would not sway you to leave my side."

Hermione smiled. "People can't help who they fancy."

By then, they had reached Minerva's quarters, and stepped inside after the elder uttered the password. "No, I don't suppose they can," Minerva replied, tentatively raising her hand, caressing the younger witch's cheek.

"Minerva?"

"You know, Hermione," she said. "I feel so exposed around you. Like there's nothing you can't see, or understand about me. Anyone else… if others knew what happened the other night, they wouldn't treat me the same. I know I need time to process, but I also know that it has not broken me, nor will I let it."

"That's not your way," Hermione murmured. "You're so bloody strong, and unlike most people, you're not pretending to be that way. It's one of the things I so admire you for."

"But what you feel," Minerva continued, motioning for Hermione to follow as she moved toward the living room area of her quarters. "Goes deeper than simple admiration."

Both woman took seats on the sofa, Minerva naturally falling against the younger woman and into her embrace. "Cliche, I know," Hermione chuckled, "but yes. Much deeper."

"Had you not found me…" the older witch cleared herself, memories threatening to surface as she spoke. "...I never would have considered you as more than a student… before."

"I think it comes down to trust, rather than any other factor that may have prevented you from looking at me as more." Brown eyes squinted in concentration as she thought how to best express her feelings. "Finding you as I did, and being there when you awoke… it was an event that would build exceptional trust between any two people. For one to see another so exposed and vulnerable, and not take advantage, or spread rumors, or anything of the sort… you know?"

Minerva nodded, thinking back on the day that she'd found her own Transfiguration Professor, Albus Dumbledore, crying like a baby on the floor of his office, after hearing word of his former lover, Gellert's rise as a Dark Wizard. From that day forward, they'd been friends. Minerva knew that had he been inclined toward women, or she toward men, they might have developed a romantic relationship themselves. "I do," she said. "My friendship with Albus was build on a situation not so different."

Hermione squeezed the older witch tightly. "I love you," she whispered after a minute, fireplace crackling in front of them.

Twisting around to look the younger witch in the eye, Minerva could not help but be overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in Hermione's cadence. Her eyes offered no pity. Her smile offered no sadness. Her blush offered no doubt that she meant what she was saying, entirely. Minerva's heart pounded, a rush of want flowing through her. It wasn't sexual desire, though Merlin knew an attraction very much existed between them. Rather, ir was a deep desire to be close to another person.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she inched her face slowing toward the younger woman. Hermione shifted slightly, as to make the angle more comfortable for such contact, and then slowly, moved to meet Minerva's lips. The kiss began slow and careful, though not in an awkward and unsure sort of way. It was more a issue of savoring the contact; taking time to commit the moment to memory.

When Minerva moved to deepen the kiss, Hermione pulled back. "You're not ready," she whispered.

As soon as the younger witch said it, Minerva knew she was right, and so leaned back into Hermione's embrace versus pushing herself further than she ought. "I love you too," she confessed softly.

Physical intimacy could wait, she knew. This, here and now, she knew she was more naked before Hermione that she ever would be again, and that in itself was worth savoring. She knew that in the weeks to come, she'd inevitably break down and cry, and even if it was not in Hermione's arms, she knew the younger witch would be there as she processed not only the fact that she's been raped, but all the horrors of war. Minerva would tell Hermione about Amelia, and they'd discuss what a romance between the two of them would look like in contrast. Amelia had been an amazing witch, but never one to hold out against Minerva in a debate. The older witch knew she'd enjoy that aspect of her relationship with Hermione immensely.

For Hermione's part, commitment to see Harry through the defeat of Voldemort done with, she was looking forward to the next great commitment of her life. Minerva's welfare was now her primary concern, and she imagined it would continue being so for years to come. She'd always hoped that her former Professor might consider her in a romantic light, though she never would have guessed that it would be something so ugly and brutal to give the older witch a push toward her.

Like herself, Minerva knew the risks of war; she knew what sort of people she was exposing herself to. Minerva chose to take the risk, because it was important to her to help the Order. Hermione understood that. It came down to the greater good. It usually did, for people like them.

Continue or no? Marking as complete for the moment, but if you guys think it should be expanded on, just let me know and I'll think something up. PLEASE REVIEW!