Chapter 13

Minerva tiredly rolled her head as she peeled her glasses from her face, enjoying the moment of silence amongst the chaos of the day. However, she heard the boards in front of the door give under the weight, and she bit back a growl in frustration as she summoned her stoic features and turned to see the door swing open and the very distinct features of Hermione Granger walked in with an empty plate in her hand.

Brown eyes landed upon hers, and she stopped.

They hadn't seen the other…since Kingsley's revelation just over three weeks prior, when Minerva's eyes had grown to the size of bludgers as a whispered plea of denial sprung from her lips.

After a few awkward moments, Hermione stretched out her hand and placed the empty plate on the table and returned her gaze to Minerva and slid to her left side. "How's your shoulder?"

"Fully healed." Minerva closed the glasses resting in her hand, as she reached for her iron clad control. "And all of your…memories have returned?"

Hermione swallowed as she quietly answered, "Yes."

"Hermione…!" Molly's voice broke across the stillness, and then the Weasley matriarch burst into the kitchen, "Ohh..Hermione we're waiting on the rolls…" she paused at seeing the Headmistress standing at the opposite end of the kitchen, a strangely solemn expression upon her normally reserved features, "Minerva. I'm sorry…" She summoned the bag of rolls, "for interrupting."

"Actually Molly," Minerva feigned a smile, "I was just bidding Hermione good bye."

"You just got here…" Molly began but Minerva interjected.

"I received word from Filius, I am needed back at Hogwarts."

Hermione's face blanched as Molly prattled her well wishes before the three women made their way out of the kitchen and out onto the grounds of the Burrow. Molly veered to the tables and Minerva to the hilltop, Hermione pausing before jogging the handful of steps to catch up the spritely woman. "Please stay," she said as she neared Minerva, "I'd like to speak to you."

Minerva's steps didn't falter, "There is nothing to say."

Hermione reached out, and somehow overcame her concern regarding how Minerva would react, "I beg to differ." She stated as her hand landed upon Minerva's arm causing the woman to turn and draw to a stop.

Green eyes swept over Hermione's youthful features, and as much as she loathed to hear what Hermione had to say, she also could hear the sweet string of words about how the woman standing so close would hold her heart and keep it safe; and not further sink the dagger that had already been plunged so deep. "I'm listening," she found herself saying despite what she should have replied.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, to ask the questions that had burned her soul for weeks to be asked, but how do you ask the most prestigious witch in the country to love you? Her vocabulary and well-honed verbal skills faltering her in her moment of need, and with each passing second, more and more of the woman standing before her vanished into the legend.

And Minerva felt the dagger dig deeper and she could almost taste the blood bubbling in the back of her throat, as the moments stretched and she pulled upon the last shreds of her willpower and compassion. Speaking a half-truth to ease Hermione's burden, even if it meant burying the dagger to the hilt and through what remained of her heart. "I cherish what we shared, but it cannot be." She scanned brown eyes in the twilight, as her fingers trailed along the soft lines of Hermione's jaw, "You know this to be true." Slowly, painstakingly, she withdrew her fingers, "It's time to let me go, and move on with your life."

"I…"

Minerva placed her forefinger on her lips, and gently shook her head as tears pooled in brown eyes and she stepped away, "Good-bye, Jean." And with a half nod, Minerva turned and within two more steps, she was gone.

Xoxo

Hermione didn't remember picking up a bottle of firewhisky that evening when she finally did return to the Burrow's festivities; she only knew that when the first one was empty she managed to find a replacement as she hoped to blanket the pain and ache in her chest from Minerva's farewell.

"Let's get you home." Ron said wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Yes…let's." Hermione gaily repeated as she ran her hand up his chest and she leaned in closer, "As long as you're coming too."

Ron was about to decline, feeling moderately tired and having to get up in the morning until she brought her hips in direct contact with his own; his body instantly reacting to the multiple month hiatus. "We'll take the floo." He said guiding her into the den, and with a whispered phrase he threw the floo powder into the grate and in a rush he had joined Hermione at her flat…only to feel her warm lips eagerly landing upon his.

The next morning, Hermione woke to a steady snore and a splitting headache. She vaguely noticed the articles of clothing scattered everywhere on her way to the loo to find a headache draught trying to ignore the way her center pulsed in want and need – utterly dissatisfied with how Ron had loved her last evening; only bringing her to a climax once after having brought himself thrice before he had managed to send her over the edge.

But knowing that their drinking and his overzealousness were sure the cause for his lackluster evening. After all, their previous experiences had left her yearning for his touch and begging for more.

Xoxo

a/n: Sighs. Remember the angst part?