AN: Just a little somethin' somethin' for Valentine's Day y'all...

FORTRESS MCGONAGALL

The room was cast in ever changing shadow as the flickering light from the dying fire cracked and hissed. The smell of evergreen and lavender from the burning tapers nearly overpowered the other aroma in the room. Earthy. Primal.

The scent of sex.

But not just any sex, this was different.

This was love making.

This was Hermione's first time with a woman.

The young witch lay dozing on the king sized bed of her lover. A beautifully carved mahogany four poster haven of decadent softness with just the right amount of underlying firmness. Six hundred thread cotton sheets in a lovely burgundy adorned the bed and Hermione. The silky soft fabric lay across her lower back, exposing the slightest hint of a rounded backside. A long, elegant leg bent at the knee peaked out from beneath the sheets as well.

Golden firelight caressed exposed curves in a soft light that made the older woman sitting at a corner desk in the bedroom pause and stare. Her quill was set aside and the green eyed witch sat back for a moment.

Chestnut hair lay in riotous abundance. Spilling over soft, yet deceptively strong shoulders. Thick eyebrows lay over the sleeping witch's eyes in peace. Not furled into a frown as they had been of late.

Long, slender arms curled around the Headmistress' pillow, pulling it close to her nose. Unconsciously the young woman would inhale deeply. As if trying to fill her lungs with her lover.

Fortress McGonagall.

Emerald eyes filled a suspicious wetness for a moment before the elder witch coughed softly and willed them to stop. Reaching for her quill once more, she dipped it into her ink pot and continued to write.

This writing of hers was something she had done without fail since she first entered Hogwarts. Encouraging words and lots of hugs from her mother, along with a journal had been a gift when young Minerva had come home for Christmas that first year. The ebony haired young woman was having a hard time making friends. Mostly due to her know-it-all attitude.

Mother McGonagall had taken her young daughter to her side and whispered all the wonderful words that parents murmur to their troubled young. Reassurances and remembrances.

And a journal to keep. Something to use as an outlet. Something to tell her deepest secrets to. At least until friends became a reality.

That had happened in the guise of Poppy Greengrass. The only Greengrass ever sorted into Gryffindor. The first and closest friend McGonagall ever had. A friendship that endured to this very day. A friend who encouraged young Minerva to continue writing in her journal as long as she didn't write anything nasty or potentially incriminating about her. A friend who also encouraged her to, for once, step out from behind the walls she kept around her heart and pursue love.

A smile crinkled warm emerald eyes as Minerva remembered her early friendship. Another glance at the sleeping beauty on her bed caused a deep sigh to escape thin lips. Yes, she had stepped cautiously from behind those walls and had run smack dab into a blanket of compassion, caring and yes.. deep deep love in the form of Hermione Granger.

Glancing back to her parchment, Minerva began to write once more...

I am a bastion. I am the silent strength that keeps Hogwarts standing.

For more years than I care to admit, I have lived behind walls.

Real ones like the castle and the other sort. The kind you build around your heart. The kind that keep you from being hurt. The kind that keep you from feeling anything.

For years I remained steadfast and strong. Unbending, unyielding and proud.

A beacon in the darkness following the fall of Voldemort when the magical world in Britain was thrown into such mayhem. I stood alone.

Fortress McGonagall I was dubbed by the Prophet.

No truer name could be had for me.

Then you came back into my life...

First you were my student. Brilliant and bold. Sometimes a wee bit too cunning for your own good. You reminded me of myself.

I watched you grow. I watched you blossom into an unparalleled beauty. I watched as Potter and Weasley courted fate one too many times pulling you along with them.

I watched as you faced death with courage, conviction and dare I say it... love.

Yes, you faced death with tears in your eyes as you battled Voldemort's followers. You were magnificent. Even as I fought my own duels, I was aware of your nearness.

Little did I realize what that meant at the time.

That came later...

With the rebuilding of the castle, the restoration of the grounds and most importantly the reconstruction of lives. Lives that had been put on hold whilst the madness ensued.

You put aside your dreams without complaint. You did not once utter a single foul word when asked to lend a hand. Unlike some others. Particularly Ronald Weasley.

I watched as his selfish whims put an end to the budding romance brewing between the two of you. I watched with a selfishness of my own.

And a hope...

Slowly as the school was restored to its former glory, more barriers began to fall. I really had no choice you see. No wall can withstand the onslaught of pure, unselfish devotion that came in the form of your love.

I could not fight it. The walls were not strong enough and Fortress McGonagall fell into the dust. Never again to rise. You would not allow it.

I am held captive by you my love. By your grace, by your wit, by the unconditional acceptance I see in those warm chocolate eyes...

The older witch happened to glance up once more to see twinkling deep brown eyes peering back.

"What are you doing way over there?"

An answering twinkle and a soft reply came, "Oh just putting my thoughts down in my journal."

"Good thoughts I hope?" The young witch held out her hand inviting her lover back to the warmth of their bed.

A deep sense of contentment filled the soul of the once steadfast and staid witch as she reached out and penned one last line...

Yes, Fortress McGonagall has indeed fallen. Long live my haven. My saviour, my love, my Hermione.

-the end