Chapter 11

Minerva sat on Hermione's sofa, sipping from a cup of tea, laced liberally with firewhiskey. The consequences of what she had put the young witch through this evening rolling over and over in her racing mind like a quaffle in a quiddich match. She stared at the fire, lit from the Beltane torch, hoping it would hold the answers to all the questions churning inside.

After everything she had been through, was it really necessary to give her more to deal with, more to heal from, more to put on those delicate but strong shoulders?

There would have been another way; more investigations, harder interrogations, searching for clues, muggle policework. She could have gone her whole life without the burden of those memories and now she lay in her bed, broken and alone, suffering from nightmares Minerva could never imagine.

It was her fault. It was her fault Hermione was attacked, and her fault she didn't know about Jasper and now it was her fault she would have to live with the memory of what happened to her… always.

What's more, she was weak. When Hermione kissed her, Minerva knew she should have stopped,she knew that Hermione had had enough tragedy and was just searching for something to hold onto. It was her responsibility to stop when those feelings surfaced, but she just hadn't been strong enough.

Her truth, now that she was prepared to admit it, was that over the last several months, Minerva McGonagall had fallen, boots over broomstick, in love with Hermione Granger, and when that beautiful young woman had thrown herself into her arms and kissed her with such abandon – twice, Minerva allowed herself to fall a little further; and now it was time to let her go.

"Stop that," the unexpected voice startled her from her musings into the fire and her head snapped abruptly to the bedroom door, where Hermione leaned, clad in her red silk pajamas, drying her chestnut curls with a fluffy towel.

"Hermione," Minerva attempted to collect her thoughts. "Stop what?"

"Blaming yourself. Imagining how it could have been prevented. Beating yourself up. It wasn't your fault, Minerva. None of it."

Minerva cleared her throat, attempting to choke back the lump that had settled there. "How do you feel?"

Hermione shrugged as she walked into the room, slinging the towel over one shoulder and sat at the other end of the sofa, looking for her own answers in the crackling fire. "How am I supposed to feel?"

"There's no good answer to that."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Hermione spoke.

"Cormac McLaggen."

"What?"

"He's the bloke who raped me. Cormac McLaggen." It was the first time she'd ever spoken the word aloud, and it had rolled off her tongue as though she had been discussing Ministry business with Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I met him my sixth year. He was one of Slughorn's little pets. He took me to one of those ridiculous Slug Club parties and turned out to be a total creep. I…may have… hexed him when I heard him talking about my friends. Guess he never got over it." She paused for a long moment. "Countryman of yours?" she tried to hide the tears in her eyes, but Minerva saw them just before one slipped down her cheek.

"Don't do that Hermione. Don't try to hide your pain with humor. A Scot he may be, but he is no clansman of mine," Minerva said vehemently and drew the now shaking witch against her. "We'll get him lassie. If I have to hunt him through the moors myself. We'll get him. Geallaidh mi sin dhut."

Hermione's trembles subsided and she took a deep, cleansing breath, extricating herself from the circle of Minerva's arms. As she sat up her eyes lifted to their green counterparts.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Hermione smiled at Minerva's humility. "For what? For everything! For conducting the ritual, for restoring my memories, for bringing me back here, for comforting me, for caring for Jasper." She lifted one small hand to cup Minerva's jawline as a soft thumb traced her bottom lip. "For being phenomenal, and brave and," her voice was soft and throaty, "truly beautiful." Pink lips captured rosy red for a scant moment before Minerva pulled away.

"Hermione, don't." She stood and began pacing behind the sofa.

Hermione sighed, as though she knew this was coming. "Why?"

"Don't be obtuse, you know why."

"I'd like to hear you say it."

Minerva was starting to become angry. "You really want me to list all the reasons? Fine. We'll start with the most obvious, not the least of which is, I am your boss. Followed by the fact that you are a former student, you are nearly a half century my junior, you have an infant son and we are both responsible for hundreds of young lives and cannot be gallivanting around this castle like pubescent teenagers."

Hermione stood and crossed to lean on the back of the sofa to look sideways at the elder witch. "Well, Headmistress, those are all very practical, level-headed reasons. Well done you. None of them, however have anything to do with how you feel. Now you might tell me the real reason. I don't regret kissing you tonight, nor, I think, do you. I know you are confused, but don't push me away and for Merlin's sake, Minerva, don't lie to me."

Minerva looked at the ceiling attempting to reign in her exasperation. Minerva McGonagall was an accomplished spy and had once been a decorated agent in the Ministry's intelligence division. Subterfuge was like an old comfy sweater to her, and this young woman could spot her lying across the bloody Black Lake. "Hermione," she looked back at the witch who, in her snit had managed to work up an indignant flush that nearly took Minerva's breath away. "You have, this very night, regained memories of an experience which would fell the strongest of women and witches. You have a long road of healing ahead and I couldn't in good conscience – "

"So that's it then," Hermione cut in. "I'm damaged goods, am I?"

Now Minerva's Scottish temper flared to full flame. "Now just a minute. That is not what I meant and you bloody well know it. Don't put words in my mouth, Hermione."

"Then don't tell me what I want, or need. I'm not a child, nor am I some blushing virgin throwing herself at her Professor. Can you honestly tell me that you feel nothing when I kiss you?"

"That isn't the point."

"It's the only point! It's the only thing that matters. I have been hurt. Yes. I have experienced tragedy. Yes. My life is forever changed. Yes. Yes. Yes. But that doesn't change the fact that when I look at you, I am somehow able to breathe again." Her breath caught at this. "Is it so hard to believe that you may actually be able to help me get through this?"

"Of course I'll be here, every step of the way, just not as – "

"Not as a lover. Not as a companion. As my boss, a friend, a mentor." Hermione scowled.

"Yes."

"No."

"No?"

They were facing each other now, mere feet separating them.

"I'll want more."

"You won't"

"How do you know?"

"Because someday, when you are healed and whole once again, you will look up and realize that I am a lonely old woman."

Minerva leaned on the back of the sofa, looking back into the fire, wishing she could just allow herself to love this woman.

"Coward."

"What?"

"You heard me, Professor. You are a coward. Some Gryffindor you are. You're so afraid of what you think you are, that you won't allow yourself to be what you truly can be."

Minerva let her head hang, hating her next words almost as much as she loathed herself at this moment. Her control was hanging by a thread, her Scottish tempter warring with her English dignity. She did not want to lash out at Hermione again, but she was afraid of the tenuous hold she had on her anger.

"I'm sorry, dear. I cannot offer you more than friendship."

Hermione shook her head. "And if I won't settle for less?"

The temper won out and Minerva turned on Hermione, mind and body. "That's how it'll be then, aye? Either I shag you or you deny me even your friendship?"

For the second time in her life, Hermione Granger struck Minerva McGonagall full across the face. *SMACK*

Hermione couldn't breathe. All the air had been sucked from the room at Minerva's hurtful words. She stumbled backwards and her back hit the wall of her sitting room as she slid to the floor. "Get out."

The red haze on Minerva's consciousness lifted when she realized exactly what she had said and the impact it had had. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn't mean – "

"Get. Out."

"Please, let me explain. It's my temper, I – "

Hermione leapt from her spot on the floor, blew past Minerva to the fireplace and threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. "I am going to get my son, have a drink with people who love me, in my bloody pajamas, and return here in one hour to get a terrible night's sleep. By the time I get back, you will be gone. Aye?"

Tears were streaming down Minerva's face now. Everything was upside down.

"The Potters!" She was gone.

Chapter 12

The Headmistress was gone when Hermione returned, and didn't set foot across the threshold of those rooms the remainder of the term year.

The month passed quickly. Hermione threw herself into her students and into Jasper. The elves cared for him when she was working, but she avoided Minerva whenever possible. The tension during mealtimes was palpable and Hermione simply counted the days until final exams.

Aurors were searching for Cormac McLaggen, to little success. He was hiding out in the Highland moors. All involved were getting increasingly frustrated.

The day after term ended, Hermione sent a single memo to the Headmistress's office and took Jasper on a walk to the Hogwarts Express. She was right when she thought the little boy would squeal in delight over the shiny, red train. The older students cooed over the baby and the younger one's waved hearty good-byes to her as the train pulled away from the station. She tried to hide the tears in her eyes.

Could she really leave them? Leave all this? She would miss it so.

She made her way quickly back up to the castle to pack the remainder of her things. The time away would do her good. She could clear her head and get out of the oppressive atmosphere that Hogwarts had become.

Meanwhile, in the Headmistress's office, Minerva watched from her window as mother and son strode, giggling across the grounds, stopping only for a moment to watch the giant squid breach the surface of the lake, almost as though waving good bye.

She turned back to her desk, intending to finish up a bit of work before disappearing to her own castle in the Highlands for a long vacation and to purge her heart of Hermione Granger.

That thought came at the same time her eyes landed on the envelope sitting on her desk, written in Hermione's strident hand. She opened it eagerly, but with dread.

Headmistress,

Thank you for another successful year. I hope you found the student's final History exams to your satisfaction.

I feel it only fair to warn you that I am considering a change in career and may not be returning to Hogwarts next year. I have had a number of offers from both the Ministry and private research companies. The offers are lucrative and are to be taken seriously.

I will certainly inform you of my final decision by July 1 so as to give you ample time to find my replacement should the need arise.

If you need to reach me for any reason, you will be able to find me at the Potter residence in Godric's Hollow.

Please feel free to come visit Jasper whenever you'd like. I don't wish to keep you from him, despite the dissolution of our personal relationship. He misses you.

Thank you for your mentorship and the opportunity to advance my career at Hogwarts. It has been exceedingly fulfilling.

Yours,

Hermione Jean Granger

Despite the frosty tone of the letter, Minerva read between the lines. She left an opening to contact her, which meant she hadn't given up entirely. Jasper missed her? Only Jasper? Was she really considering not returning next year? Was Minerva really going to let her get away? To what, spend another month miserable and alone, waiting for another opportunity to apologize and win a second chance?

"Over my dead body," and the Headmistress strode to the floo and threw in a handful of powder. There was no time to waste and no time to ask for permission to enter. "Professor Granger's Private Rooms!"

Jasper sat on the bed, bouncing happily as Hermione methodically, but quickly shrunk her belongings and packed them into a magically extended suitcase. She needed to finish and leave before Minerva read her letter. She was sure she was busy with end of term business so she had a little time.

It was at that moment, that Headmistress Minerva McGonagall strode from her outer chamber into her bedroom in a tornado of silk robes. She didn't stop upon crossing the threshold, but walked across the bedroom, and around the four poster bed with a definitive gait. Still without stopping, she marched straight up to Hermione Granger and kissed her, full on the mouth, lifting her bodily from her feet with one strong arm around her slim waist and one buried in luscious curls.

Hermione broke away, stunned. "Minerva, what are you – hmmph" she was silenced by another heart stopping kiss, the taller witch obviously not willing to hear whatever protests arose.

With that second kiss, all the anger drained from Hermione and she gave into the kiss, sliding an arm under outer robes to grasp at the small of her back, her free hand stroking a soft, creamy cheek. She pushed back until Minerva's back hit the oak post at the end of the bed.

The kisses lasted long languid minutes, following one after the other while both witches explored with tongues and hands. When they finally pulled away, Hermione's hand had wandered to Minerva's sternum, in the welcoming valley between her breasts, where she could feel a strong, but fast heartbeat against her fingertips. Their noses continued to bump delightfully against each other as Hermione spoke.

"What brought that on?"

Flushed from arousal and giddy with pride at the disheveled look in cinnamon eyes, Minerva's brogue was in full bloom.

"Dinnae leave me, leannan. Toilich. Give me anger, give me love, give me passion, give me disgust, but please dinnae give me indifference. Anything but more silence. Please. It isna in me to let you go. I'm so very sorry, Hermione. 'S duilich leam gun. My infernal Scottish temper. I cannae always control it and I never should have said what I did. I dinnae mean it, truly, love. Whatever you want, you have it. My heart, my soul, my love, it's yours. 'S mise le mùirn. I cannae – "

Soft fingertips landed on her swollen lips, quieting her endless words.

"Shhhh. You're rambling, and I can't understand half of it." The smile gracing her face could have lit all of Hogsmeade Village. "It's alright, darling. I forgive you," and she drew her into another kiss. This one was soft, exploring, it may have lacked the desperation of the first, but none of the heat.

A giggle from Jasper drew them apart. He crawled to the end of the bed and held his arms up to Minerva and screamed. "Min!"

Both women gasped and Minerva swept Jasper into her arms and tossed him into the air, much to the boys noisy delight. She set him firmly on her hip and adjusted his little Chudley Cannon's shirt so it covered his belly, emerald eyes never straying from deep brown. "You'll stay, aye? "

"Aye," and a strong hand on the back of Minerva's neck drew lips, tongues and hearts together.