A/N: There will be at least one more chapter, but I thought I'd post this part since it's done. Enjoy :-)
My Soul Is All But Out Of Me
Be brave. Be brave. Be brave. The words spun around her brain like a mantra. Hermione found the task of making the first move to change her relationship with Minerva daunting. Her eyes locked on the formidable woman holding an animated conversation with an unfamiliar but handsome man. She felt an instant dislike for the man, while simultaneously feeling inadequate to pose any real competition.
What if Harry and Ron were wrong? What if she just feels nothing for me but friendship? What if I make an utter and complete fool of myself? She fiddled with the flute of champagne she held, worrying her bottom lip as all the fears she had were played in an endless loop through her mind. Bringing the glass to her lips, Hermione tilted her head back, finishing what was left in one large swallow. Wishing she was drinking something stronger, Hermione felt the fluid slide down throat into her stomach. The flute immediately filled again.
She considered drinking more but a large hand plucked the flute out of her hands and put it on the tray of a passing server before she could think twice about it. Annoyed brown eyes lifted to pierce whoever took her alcohol away with a death glare. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, her ire forgotten, as she looked up to meet familiar blue eyes.
"You could never handle alcohol well," he said gently, "and you need to be sober for whatever you're planning on doing."
"Ron," she instinctively reached out for his hand, stopping short of touching him. The redhead closed the distance between their hands and squeezed gently, letting her know it was alright. He was alright. Hermione could still see pain in his eyes, but she could also tell that he was doing better. He was moving on. She felt a weight (that she had not known she was carrying) lift at his obvious improvement. Hermione was happy he was moving on with his life.
"The wedding was beautiful," Hermione said, broaching a safe topic, turning her full attention to him (temporarily ignoring Minerva and her handsome companion).
"It was, wasn't it?" Ron smiled widely, sincerely as he recalled the ceremony that had taken place a few hours prior. Hermione smiled reflexively, but genuinely. She was happy for the new Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter.
Ginny had looked absolutely stunning in her wedding dress. She glowed. Harry looked like the happiest man on earth when his soon-to-be wife walked down the aisle toward him. It had been the event of the year. Looking around at the still full house, it seemed like the entire Wizarding world had attended the wedding of the boy who lived, the leader of the Golden Trio.
"How long do you think people are going to stay?" Hermione asked, noting the large number of people socializing, dancing and generally milling about. It had been over an hour since Harry and Ginny had said their goodbyes and headed off to their honeymoon.
"Not sure," Ron answered looking at the crowd around them, "I'm not going to be around to find out." Blue eyes returned to brown, a sad smile gracing his features, "I just came to say goodbye. And good luck."
Hermione shook her head, "Why do you think I have anything planned?"
"The look in your eye, the set of your shoulders, the very air around you," he listed off, "you would get this way a lot growing up." He squeezed her hand again, "Do whatever you have planned. Don't talk yourself out of it."
Her eyes slid away from his, "What if it doesn't work?"
"Then you'll at least have tried and you won't live with the regret of never taking the opportunity," he said clearly speaking from experience.
"Our friendship," Hermione began only to be interrupted by the overriding voice of reason coming from Ron's mouth.
"Will survive this if it doesn't work," he said with conviction, "McGonagall is nothing if not loyal. You won't lose her friendship." He shifted his eyes over Hermione's shoulder before looking back down at her, "But, I can almost guarantee it will work out."
Hermione scrunched her brows at him, "How can you be so certain?"
"Because if looks could kill, I think I would've just been flayed alive," he responded, amusement coloring his words. Before Hermione could ask what he meant, Ron enveloped her in a hug. She returned the embrace warmly. He stepped back, leaning down to chastely kiss her cheek, he whispered, "Risk everything, Hermione. Happiness is worth it."
Hermione watched him walk away. Not quite certain what had just transpired, but her courage definitely bolstered. Feeling eyes on her, the young woman turned to see Minerva's eyes shifting away from her to focus back on her dancing partner. Minerva was dancing with the same handsome gentleman who Hermione had taken an immediate disliking to. The young witch felt a spike of something unpleasant crawl through her.
Hermione looked at Minerva steadily, steeling her courage for taking the first step. She swallowed thickly trying to control her suddenly wildly beating heart. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted it to tuck a rebellious curl behind her ear. Making the first move is bloody difficult, she thought as she took a cleansing breath. But the unknown emotion coursing through her was making her brave. She did not want that man touching her Minerva.
Moving almost without thought, Hermione swept onto the dance floor. Stopping directly beside Minerva and the mystery man, she loudly cleared her throat, "May I cut in?"
Not giving the handsome stranger a chance to protest, Hermione simply replaced his hands with her own and moved Minerva into the next move of the dance. The young woman effectively stole Minerva away from the man. Hermione smiled in victory; unbothered by Minerva's scrutiny.
Feeling the intensity of the moment, Minerva played along (more than a little impressed, and flattered, at the aggressive side the young woman was displaying). Seeing the young woman mulling something over in her mind, Minerva simply stayed silent and allowed Hermione all the time she needed to decide whatever it was she struggling with at the moment. Her curiosity was definitely piqued, however, and she had to consciously force herself to remain quiet.
"Who was that man?" Hermione asked, unaware of the venom in her voice.
"He is an old acquaintance," Minerva answered carefully.
"Do you socialize with all your acquaintances so comfortably?" Hermione unconsciously moved her hand to possessively grip the older woman.
Minerva arched a brow at the younger woman, frown marring her features as she looked down into fiery brown eyes. Not sure what was bringing out the jealous, possessive side of the brunette in her arms, "If I so choose, then, yes," she again answered carefully. "As you choose to socialize with your ex-fiancé," she added with a hard edge to her own voice.
Confused at her own behavior, Hermione deflated somewhat. "He is a handsome man," she whispered grudgingly.
"He is also married," Minerva responded gently, understanding dawning on her, "with children who have been my students." She moved them off the dance floor to a fairly private balcony. "We were simply reminiscing," she soothed.
Hermione nodded. Needing space after her uncharacteristic behavior, she moved to the far side of the balcony bracing her hands on the stone railing. She felt Minerva follow but the older woman gave her wide berth. Hermione was quiet for moment, trying to gather her thoughts. "Why haven't you, in our long association and friendship, ever called me Hermione?" The young woman finally broke the silence.
"The easy answer," the older woman said as she moved to stand slightly to Hermione's left, "is that you have never given me permission."
"And the difficult answer?" Hermione whispered, gripping the railing in an attempt to quell any hope from rising in her chest.
Minerva was quiet for so long, Hermione thought she was not going to answer. Turning her head to look over at the older woman, Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach at the look Minerva was directing her way.
"The difficult answer," Minerva said softly, green eyes not straying from brown, "is that there is a line there neither one of us has ever crossed. A line that has become symbolic for something else entirely. A line that cannot be uncrossed once crossed. A line I cannot cross alone and without permission."
Knowing exactly what Minerva was saying, Hermione paused to think about her next move. Steady green eyes regarded her evenly, demanding nothing and expecting nothing, simply observing her. "You can call me Hermione," the young woman finally spoke into the intense moment.
Minerva's green gaze narrowed on her eyes and studied her for a moment. "And you may call me," Minerva answered after a brief pause, "Headmistress or Professor McGonagall."
Hermione let out a bark of laughter at the unexpected levity in Minerva's voice. The older woman's eyes twinkled as a smile tugged at her lips. Now that the younger woman was more relaxed she moved in to stand next to her, leaning casually against the rail of the balcony.
In another unexpected move, Minerva stretched her hand out for a handshake. Unsure about what exactly was going on, Hermione nonetheless extended her own hand and played along with whatever Minerva was planning. Electricity sparked up both women's arms at the simple touch.
Hermione swallowed thickly as Minerva shifted her hand inside their grasp and the older witch brought their joined hands toward her lips. Green eyes locked onto brown as gentle lips softly kissed the back of Hermione's hand. Fire spread from the point of contact up Hermione's arm, quickly enveloping her in a fusing heat that was as pleasant as it was slightly uncomfortable. The young woman could feel heat crawling up her neck, but she fought valiantly to keep the blush from her face.
"Hermione," Minerva almost purred against her hand, lips brushing every word onto the back of the young woman's hand, "I am Minerva." The older witch smiled as she straightened but kept her hand in Hermione's, "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"Is it really that easy?" Hermione wondered aloud, fondly squeezing the hand that still held hers. "A clean slate. A new start. Simply wish it and it becomes so," the young woman voiced uncertainly, her hand untangling from Minerva's. She half turned from the intense green gaze directed her way, hands landing once again on the balcony railing, eyes focused on the inky blackness interspersed with shining dots of light, she breathed in the night air trying to get her bearings.
Minerva leant back onto the railing, facing Hermione, only inches separating them. She crossed her arms over her chest and simply let her eyes roam over the lovely sight before her. "No," she stated after a long moment, her voice certain where Hermione's was not, "I have learned that nothing worth having is ever easy." The words ramped up the young woman's heart rate; Minerva could see the pounding artery, where the clavicle met her neck, beating a maddening tempo.
Silently releasing a short breath as her own heart suddenly pounded against her chest, Minerva tried to control the reaction the young woman created in her. Not allowing her eyes to slide further down Hermione's tantalizing chest, Minerva forced her eyes up to the young witch's face noting an arched eyebrow and a slightly confused gaze as Hermione considered where Minerva's eyes had been. A smirk suddenly painted the younger woman's lips, the raised eyebrow arched higher as she pierced Minerva with an amused look.
Minerva's back straightened a bit to put a few more inches of distance between them. She cleared her throat as her eyes shifted away from Hermione's, "It wasn't quite what it looked like."
"So," Hermione's voice had lowered and Minerva found herself swallowing involuntarily, "you weren't ogling me, then?"
Green eyes sliding back to brown, Minerva flashed Hermione an abashed smile. "A sight too tempting to pass up," the older witch admitted, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug reminiscent of many of her students.
Hermione blushed. But, she smiled at the unexpected forthrightness of the older witch. She did not realize she had lowered her head until slender fingers curled under her chin and gently lifted her face back up. Minerva cupped Hermione's face, thumb gently tracing the young woman's bottom lip, the space separating them decreasing by the second as the two women unconsciously leaned toward one another. "You are beautiful," Minerva whispered reverently making Hermione's blush deepen.
Eyes oscillating between half lidded green eyes and lips she knew she was moments from tasting, Hermione caught the sound of laughter and music from the party still in full swing on the other side of the curtains separating the balcony from the inside. Reality invaded the moment. She was seconds away from kissing Minerva McGonagall on a very public balcony at Harry Potter's wedding only a few months since dissolving a years-long relationship without even discussing the repercussions of the act with said woman. "No," escaped Hermione's lips as she stopped and pulled away abruptly to give herself some space to think and calm her erratic pulse.
Minerva's heart constricted painfully before quickly dropping to the proximity of her feet. Back immediately stiffening to ram rod straight, she fought to dampen all the emotion wanting to escape the confines of her chest. She still had her dignity. Raising every barrier she had let down, she tried to shield herself from some of the hurt coursing through her. Wanting nothing more than to apparate away from the situation, Minerva nonetheless gathered her scattered thoughts to salvage what she could of the friendship she had put on the line for a failed opportunity at happiness. "I seem to have misinterpreted the situation," she cursed the hoarseness of her voice, "I apologize, Ms. Granger."
Hermione caught her arm before she could fully turn away. Sliding her hand down, Hermione gripped Minerva's hand desperately. "No," she whispered near panic, "no, I didn't mean no." Brown eyes looked into inscrutable green, not able to read past the walls Minerva had erected. Licking her lips, the young woman continued, "I meant not here," she gestured to the party, "and not without talking about this first." Seeing Minerva's hard gaze soften, Hermione ventured, "And, I told you to call me Hermione." She tugged Minerva, turning the older woman to completely face her again.
Minerva visibly sagged in relief, "I can see at the very onset that I am destined never to win an argument against you."
Hermione smiled reflexively at the comment, "I don't know Minerva," the older woman smiled at how her name sounded falling from the young witch's lips, "you make quite a capable intellectual sparring partner."
Lifting a hand to cup Minerva's cheek, Hermione was pleased that the older witch leaned into her touch. "I'm sorry," Hermione explicitly stated, "I didn't mean to make that sound like a rejection. I don't want to reject you. In fact, I want to do exactly the opposite."
"This won't be easy," Minerva reiterated, "but we also don't have to make it impossible."
"I know," Hermione nodded, "but, I do think we need to at least talk about this before we do something that cannot be erased."
"Like kissing on a very public balcony at Harry Potter's wedding," Minerva spoke, sarcastic edge clearly evident in her tone, "with half the Wizarding world as witness," amusement snuck back into her voice, "and only a few months away from the dissolution of your engagement to Mr. Weasley."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the older witch, curious if magic was involved in the almost verbatim regurgitation of her thought before she had stopped the kiss they were so close to sharing, or if the two of them thought so similarly to one another. "Exactly," she said slightly suspicious.
"What?" Minerva asked her eyes wide and innocent, the smirk on her lips, however, belied her innocence. "I didn't read your mind if that's what you're thinking," her eyes twinkled as brown eyes narrowed at her. "It's obvious to read fears when one is as old as I am," she offered to appease the young woman.
"You're not old," Hermione immediately retorted, unable to stop herself.
A delicate eyebrow arched over sparkling green eyes, lips twitching to keep from smiling, "Experienced?"
"Let's hope one of us is," she mumbled.
Minerva's sensitive ears picked up the statement, which elicited laughter from the older witch, "You were always a model pupil: insatiable curiosity, quick learner, effective at practical application."
"I always did have an excellent teacher," Hermione teasingly replied, though she felt the innuendo begin to ratchet the intensity between them. Taking a mental step back, she shook her head, "Slow," she traced Minerva's face with her eyes, "we need to take things slow."
"Whatever you want," Minerva said seriously. Things would progress as slowly or as quickly as the young woman desired.
Squeezing the hand she still held in hers, Hermione made a decision, "Take me somewhere private." At the look Minerva sent her, Hermione hastily clarified, "To talk."
"Of course," Minerva smiled. Firmly holding Hermione's hand, Minerva apparated them to a summer home she owned on the Scottish Highlands.