Still holding her hand on Hermione's arm, Minerva tried to find the right words. She wanted to comfort Hermione, but she knew she didn't dare breathe any word of her own feelings as long as Hermione still legally was her student. She knew, that once she'd let the truth pass her lips, she would not be able to stop. She would let it all flood out and she wasn't sure if she trusted herself to control that. Right here and right now there was far too much to lose. She wanted to tell Hermione, oh yes did she want to tell this gorgeous young woman how the mere thought of the being called Hermione Jean Granger made the heart of the always so composed professor Minerva Miranda McGonagall, start beating uncontrollably and pump hot blood through her veins. How she suddenly, during class, found herself missing Hermione so much she almost couldn't breathe. And how she every morning used to wake up after pleasant dreams of her love, only to find herself in a cold empty bed.

But at the rocky lakeshore so close to Hogwarts, a sunny Sunday afternoon, four days before graduation, was not the time or place for that kind of discussion. Partly because Minerva knew she wanted to do more than only discuss her feelings with Hermione. She wanted to act them out.

Stop, you're a grown woman and you can handle this! It's you bloody duty to handle it!

Slowly removing her hand from Hermione's arm (which suddenly almost felt like torture) Minerva tried to see things from Hermione's point of view and how embarrassed and scared she must feel right now.

"Just because I want to discuss this with you, does not mean I'm angry at you", she began. To her delight Hermione finally met her eyes. Smiling a little, Minerva continued.

"And I can assure you I do not take some morbid fascination in rubbing your nose in it either. But, for reasons I cannot reveal at the moment, I do not wish to discuss this here and now."

Finally seeing Hermione seemed to relax somewhat, Minerva felt a little bolder and put out her hand towards the young woman beside her.

"Can you trust me on that?", she asked.

For what seemed like an eternity, Hermione just stared at Minerva, then, to Minerva's joy, Hermione slowly put her hand in Minerva's.

"Yes", she almost whispered, "of course I trust you".

Minerva smiled and gently squeezed Hermione's hand.

"Now, I believe I have told you about my cottage?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then as you know I use to spend a few weeks of solitary there every summer."

Again, Hermione nodded.

Minerva suddenly had to muster all her strength to keep calm.

"Then may I propose (oh god am I proposing already?!) that you come and visit me this summer?"

Oh had she dreamed of this, to sweep Hermione of her feet and take her away to the cottage! At the moment Minerva couldn't believe her luck.

For the first time in what seemed like years, Hermione lit up and smiled broadly.

"Do you really want me to?", she asked, grinning.

Minerva felt a sudden weight lift from her shoulders.

--

That evening Hermione sat staring in to the fire watching the flames but not really seeing them. She couldn't believe her luck. She had shouted at her professor, which alone would have caused Gryffindor to lose some points, but she had also confessed her love. And instead of hate or fear, she had been met with understanding and an invitation! She didn't know what to expect of the time she would spend with Minerva, but one thing was sure; she would enjoy every minute of it! To be able to express, at least some of her love, would be uplifting. Even express her love in words would be so wonderful.

Sighing, she opened her diary, placed in her knee. It was an ordinary one. Not one filled with magic. Not one who would shout at her for not writing often enough, or hiding her words until revealed with a spell, or – best of all – not one where a powerful wizard had hidden a part of himself as a horcrux.

Slowly she flipped through the pages until she found a page written some months ago.

I do not wish to love you. Yet I do. But if the truth is so unbearable, must I lie?

Must I hide my heart when it is doing exactly what it is meant to do?

How can I deny the existence of the very thing that fills my entire being?

How can I hide what is bubbling inside me and bursting to get out?

Again Hermione flipped her pages, this time opening one at random.

Dear Minerva

No words can express what I feel when I see you.

No words can express what I feel when I think of you.

No words can express what I feel when I touch you.

No words can express what I feel when you touch me.

No words can express how you have touched my heart.

For I am

Have always been

And ever shall be

Yours

With another sigh, Hermione opened a blank page and started yet again to pour out her love in words.

You are there constantly in my mind. I try to think straight, but I can't.

You block my thoughts, You destroy my concentration.

You glue Yourself on my retina.

You're in the way.

What should I do?

Love you?

Hate you?

Be mad at you?

I cannot choose, my heart has already chosen, and I do not like the choice. But I can't decide over it.

I have to love You until the world ends. But my love for You will never end.

In my dreams You are mine.

In My dreams we are best friends.

In my dreams You love me.

But I know You already love me. I know, because you look at me that way. But You do not love me like that.

I want to be Your friend, would you like to be mine?

To me it doesn't matter, as long as I may be near You.

Will I ever escape from loving You? I hate it.

Please, do not be mad at me. It's not my fault, or Yours. It just became this way.

I am a very little girl with an endless dream.

An hour later, Crookshanks came down the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory to find if his owner would ever come to bed. By then Hermione had fallen asleep and the diary had fallen from her knee and was lying face-down on the floor.