Chapter Two - Hermione and Ron

September, 2005

Two weeks later found Neville at the Leaky Cauldron, sitting with Hermione Granger Weasley as Ron collected a round from the bar: pints of bitter for himself and Neville, a gillywater for the heavily-pregnant Hermione.

"Ron and I want to stand you a drink in celebration of your new job," Hermione had owled a few days earlier. "And we won't have too many more opportunities before the baby is born. Do come, Neville. I want to hear all about Hogwarts and the professors!"

Neville had smiled as he'd read the parchment. Of course she did. Hermione had always loved the teachers, especially Professor McGonagall. In their school days, she'd fly to their Head of House's defence at the first hint of criticism of her, leaving Ron muttering darkly about "certain people so blinded by a bloody crush that they forget who their real friends are." Of course, since it was usually Ron who was complaining about McGonagall, he was the one who had borne the brunt of Hermione's tellings-off.

"I'll be there," Neville had owled back, "but don't blame me if you find stories of teacher-prep to be as boring as Binns!"

So here they were, tucked into the Cauldron's back booth. Hermione seemed to have a little trouble finding a comfortable sitting position, but otherwise, she was in fine spirits.

"Thanks for coming to London, Neville," she said, shifting her weight once more as Ron returned with the drinks. "I would have loved to go up to the Three Broomsticks, but there's no way I can Apparate just now. So tell me. . .what's the most exciting thing so far about working at Hogwarts?"

"Or maybe we should ask," said Ron, "whether you can even talk about 'excitement' and 'Hogwarts' in the same breath. I mean, now that there are no Dark Lords and three-headed dogs around, it's just kids and classes and marking, right?"

"Ron!" Hermione chided. "It's Neville's new career. Don't criticise it."

"I wasn't, honest!" said Ron, taking a swallow of beer. "Most of the kind of excitement we had at school, I can do without. And when little Ron gets there" - - he patted Hermione's stomach with a smile - - "I don't want him to find anything more exciting than a Quidditch match. And a few good feasts."

"Or little Hermione," Hermione said immediately, and Neville could tell that this was an old joke between them; she and Ron beamed at each other.

"No three-headed dogs," Neville agreed. "None of that sort of excitement at Hogwarts now, and I'm with you, Ron - - I can definitely do without all that. But I'm having a good time so far."

"Were you nervous about term starting?" Hermione asked.

"Well. . .a little. But I didn't really have time to be, since we were so busy. There's a lot more to do getting ready for term than we ever knew as students."

Neville started to explain and got so enthused that he only realised how long he'd been talking when he saw Ron look wistfully at his empty glass. "Here, let me get another round," he said, but Ron jumped up first.

"No, it's on us," he insisted. "To celebrate you teaching at Hogwarts." Then he grinned, looking suddenly like he had as a schoolboy plotting mischief, and clapped Neville on the shoulder. "Better you than me, mate, that's all I can say."

Hermione watched him fondly as he headed off to the bar. "He'd never be happy as a teacher," she said. "But I can tell you will be, Neville. I'm glad you and Professor Sprout get along so well. But how is Professor McGonagall? What's it like to work with her?"

"I don't actually see much of her, except at the high table," Neville replied. "There were a couple of staff meetings before term started, but she wasn't at the castle when I first arrived. She was on holiday."

"Really?" Hermione said, looking interested. "Where did she go? I'm curious. As students, we never got to know anything about the professors' personal lives."

"Well. . ." Neville began and then trailed off, not sure how much he ought to say. But then he thought he was being foolish. This was Hermione, after all, and it wasn't as if there was some Statute of Secrecy about Hogwarts teachers. If he couldn't talk to his friends, then who?

"Well, about McGonagall's personal life. . ." he said.

Ron joined them, plunking the new drinks on the table. "On to McGonagall now, are we?" he said. "I didn't think it would take long. Say, Nev. . .you don't have to call her 'Minerva,' do you?"

Neville laughed. "I don't have to, no, but most of the staff does use given names, so I try to. I admit, I'm still not completely used to saying 'Pomona' and 'Minerva,' but I expect it will get easier. Of course, some people do just say 'the headmistress' or even call her 'Headmistress' instead of 'Minerva,' but I don't think she cares either way."

"Headmistress McGonagall. . ." Hermione said, rather dreamily. "It just sounds so right."

"What were you going to say about her personal life, Neville?" Ron asked, looking slightly apprehensive. "Do we want to know?"

"Of course we do," said Hermione, all dreaminess gone. "Go on, Neville."

Taking a deep breath, Neville launched into a detailed description of the papers from the Wizengamot, Sprout's request that he deliver them, her mention of the mysterious "Will' who lived with the headmistress in Baile Glenfal.

"The wizarding village?" said Hermione.

"You've heard of it?"

She rolled her eyes just as she had done so often in the Gryffindor common room. "It's in Hogwarts: A History. Historical rumour says the Founders used iron from a goblin forge near there. But never mind that. Who is Will?"

"Professor McGonagall lives with a man?" Ron looked aghast. "Don't. . .don't tell me she's got some sort of husband."

"And why shouldn't he tell you that, if it's true?" demanded Hermione. "What would be wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," said Ron, his brow furrowed. "It's just. . ."

"I felt the same way," Neville admitted. "I didn't want her to be married."

"Why?" Hermione stared at them. "Because married people sometimes have sex, and you can't imagine teachers doing it?"

Ron plastered a goggle-eyed expression on his face. "What?" he gasped, his eyes on Hermione's middle. "Married people sometimes have sex? Really?"

Hermione straightened her shoulders and tried to look prim and stern, but then spoiled the effect by laughing. "So I've heard," she said. "All right, Ron, point taken. But please, you two. Don't tell me that you can't handle the idea of teachers having a sex life."

Ron shook head. "Not, it's not that. I mean, it's true I don't want to make mental pictures of them having it off or anything, but not because they're teachers. I feel that way about anybody I actually know. They can do whatever they want, I just don't want to visualise it. I mean. . ." Red-faced, he drained about half his pint in one gulp.

"No, Hermione, it's not sex," Neville agreed.

"Well, what, then?"

"I'm not sure I can explain it, but I've been thinking about it," Neville said. And he had. Since his return from McGonagall's home, he'd turned the problem over in his mind.

"At first," he said finally, "I just felt kind of stupid for not knowing she was married. Not that there was any reason I should have known, of course. Obviously the professors don't tell students that sort of thing, and let's face it, kids don't usually think much about their teachers' private lives. But it just seemed that, when I got older, I should have paid more attention. Gran was always ranting about Professor McGonagall - - 'insufferable woman this' and 'dreadful woman that' - - and I just thought, could she have ever said something about McGonagall's husband and I'm just so oblivious I didn't notice?"

"You're not oblivious, Neville," Hermione said, squeezing his hand. "You paid more attention to things than most of us. I still feel bad that I'd been your friend all those years and didn't know about your parents until that Christmas at St Mungo's."

Neville shook his head. "No, don't feel bad. It's not like I talked about them then, and anyway, it was years ago. Besides, I almost wish that it was just that I was oblivious. About Professor McGonagall, I mean."

"Why?" Ron was interested now.

"Well," said Neville, "I'm not saying this is how you feel, Ron, but for me, I think it's just selfishness. As a kid, I just thought of Professor McGonagall as, you know, belonging to us. To Gryffindors. She was always there, ready to look after us; we could go to her rooms and fetch her at any hour of the night, and she would come straight off. . ."

He thought back to that terrifying time that Harry Potter's dreams had been invaded by Voldemort, how Harry had awakened shrieking and vomiting, and Neville felt the way he did when he visited his parents, helpless and useless. So he had done the only thing he could think of to make it right - - he had run to get Professor McGonagall.

He'd kept banging on her door even though he knew the portrait who guarded her rooms had gone to wake her, and he'd almost fallen inside when she finally opened it.

"Longbottom! What on earth. . .?"

He'd seized her hand in his agitation, pulling her into the corridor, babbling about Harry, he's sick, please come, he's really sick, please, please. . .

He could still see how she'd looked as they'd hurried towards the dormitories, hastily tying her ugly tartan dressing gown around her spare frame, shoving her glasses crookedly on her nose, barking questions, the worry sharp in her voice.

At some point he had taken her hand again, and she hadn't let go until they reached Harry's bed.

"It didn't matter what the problem was," Neville went on to Ron and Hermione. "I mean, it could be Azkaban escapees on the loose or just an upset stomach, she'd just be there, saying 'what's wrong, where do you hurt, what do you need, how can I help'?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we all knew she cared about us, but. . .I'm sorry, Neville, I'm afraid I just don't see how that means you're selfish, and she shouldn't have got married."

"I see," Ron said, finishing the last of his pint. "Um, I think."

Neville and Hermione both turned to look at him, and Neville hoped his face didn't betray his surprise. After all, Ron wasn't dim, and he'd already said he felt the same as Neville did about Professor McGonagall being married. Still, it wasn't often that Ron understood what Hermione didn't.

"It's. . ." Ron began, his face reddening again. "It's like. . .well, like Neville says, she was always there, day or night, and well, of course that gives the impression that we. . .her students, the Gryffindors, I mean. . . were her whole life. That she chose us, you know? And not some git called Will."

Neville nodded vigourously. "That's it, Ron, that's it exactly. And the selfishness comes - - not in thinking something like that when you're eleven or whatever, because it's a logical thing for a kid to think. But on some level, apparently I was still thinking it a month ago. It just seemed right; it seemed the way the world was supposed to be. That a teacher should give her whole life to me and never want anything or anyone else."

Hermione chewed her gillywater straw thoughtfully. "I see what you both mean," she said. "It's like a child whose single mother suddenly brings home a stranger and says, 'Meet your new daddy.'"

"Something like that," Neville said, though he wasn't sure if it was, quite. You wanted your mother to love you, of course, and of course you loved her back with so much love that it hurt to breathe. But that's not how Neville felt about Headmistress McGonagall. Oh, he respected and admired her, and now that he was grown up and working with her, he was coming to like her as a person (even if she still scared him a bit). But he didn't feel that desperate tender clutching in his chest, the way he did when he thought about his own mother.

So no, he didn't think he loved McGonagall like a mother. And he didn't know why he disliked the idea of a "husband Will" but didn't mind the notion of a female Will. Was he afraid of the whole idea of marriage? What did the Muggles call it? A "wed-ipal" complex or something? Did this mean he himself was going to end up alone?

Merlin, it was all making his head ache. Neville gave himself a mental shake. He shouldn't try to think such deep thoughts after two quick pints on a pretty empty stomach.

He looked up to find Ron and Hermione gazing at him expectantly.

"Well?" Ron said. "What was he like?"

"Who?"

"Who? McGonagall's husband, you twit! This Will bloke."

Neville couldn't resist teasing them. "Oh, Will's not her husband."

Ron looked delighted and elbowed Hermione. "So old McGonagall's living in sin, huh? That's one for the books, that is."

"Don't call her names," Hermione said automatically, again taking Neville back to their days in the Gryffindor common room. "And no one thinks of it as 'living in sin' nowadays, Ron. Marriage isn't the be-all and end-all for everyone, you know. People can - - "

"All right, all right," Ron said, putting up his hands in mock surrender. "As long as it was the be-all and end-all for us, I don't care if old. . .if Professor McGonagall takes up with a different man every week."

"Well," said Neville, enjoying himself, "as far as I know, she hasn't even taken up with one man."

"Here, Nev," said Ron, putting his hand on Neville's forehead, "are you feeling all right, mate? What about Will?"

Hermione looked amused. "No more beer for you, Neville. Time to switch to gillywater. Didn't you just tell us the headmistress was living with a man called Will?"

Neville rarely had the chance to get the better of Hermione, and he couldn't help but make the most of it.

"Never said Will was a man," he replied. "Because she's not. Remember Professor Grubbly-Plank? Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank? 'Will' for short."

"McGonagall lives with Grubbly-Plank?" Ron demanded. "Seriously?"

"Well, out of term time, anyway," Neville nodded.

"'Live together' how, Neville?" Hermione asked. "As in - - they're a couple? Or just housemates?"

"That I don't know." Not that he hadn't been wondering, of course.

"You don't know?" Ron was incredulous. "I hate to tell you, Neville old chap, but that's not exactly an unimportant point."

"Well, Ron, it's not as if he could just come out and ask them," Hermione said. "Besides, does it matter whether they're friends or lovers or - - "

"Or just thrifty?" Neville said with a smile.

"Don't know what McGonagall's got to be thrifty about," muttered Ron, sidetracked. "She must be pulling in a pretty good knut or two as the headmistress of Hogwarts. More than Dad earns at the Ministry, I'll bet you that. Well, what do you say, Neville? One more pint?"

Without waiting for an answer, he headed back to the bar.

Hermione raised a wry eyebrow. "Do you get the impression that Ron is trying to avoid. . .how did he put it? 'Visualising the professors having it off?'"

Neville laughed. "I don't really want to go there myself, to tell you the truth. Not that I'd have any problem with it," he added hastily. "It's just. . ."

"Not our business," finished Hermione firmly. "Sex shouldn't matter. It's only part of a relationship, anyway. Or sometimes not even a part of it. You can love someone without wanting sex; someone. . .a professor, or. . .or whoever, they can be important to you without. . .I mean, I'm just speaking generally, of course. . ."

She broke off, flustered, and suddenly seemed very interested in the bottom of her empty gillywater glass.

Neville wanted to reassure her that she hadn't revealed anything he hadn't already known; he'd long been aware of her feelings for McGonagall. But he didn't want to embarrass her further, so he said nothing.

After a moment, Hermione took a breath and leant back. When she spoke again, her voice was wistful.

"I do hope they're happy."