Chapter 25

Hermione Granger tried to mentally prepare herself for a 'younger' Minerva, but she couldn't have possibly prepared herself for the sight that met her as she walked into her former professor's chambers. As the door fell in the lock with a ting that rang through the room, Minerva looked up, and a small smile graced youthful features, in a way that Hermione thought to be both incredibly familiar, yet not. She was sat on the couch with her legs curled up under her body; her long dark wand balanced on the arm rest, and the rest of the dark red settee was entirely littered with books and what appeared to be albums.

"Good morning," Minerva said, in such a way that implied that she had already been expecting Hermione at her door.

The brunette nodded mutely as she sat down on the couch that wasn't absolutely occupied. She let her eyes slowly take in Minerva's younger physique. She felt mildly shocked as she saw that Minerva's raven hair was in a long braid hanging over her shoulder, though. Seeing Minerva without the very tight bun she had long learned to associate with the witch was a tad strange. Maybe Minerva hadn't expect for her to stop by, she mused... but then she corrected herself. She had. Minerva's reaction had spoken volumes.

Hermione thought Minerva looked really nice with her hair braided over her shoulder; it made her appear younger than the age she thought she had been cast back to even. The new look accentuated her willowy neck, and it contrasted with the skin in a way that her customary bun couldn't have. Hermione's breath caught. She was very beautiful. Of course, Minerva had always had a grace about her, even before what had happened with the Time-Turner, but she hadn't been attractive in that way. Hermione wondered why her former professor had never gotten married ── for all she knew, at least. She was gently reminded of the fact that, in the end, she knew very little about Minerva McGonagall's personal life.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione questioned, to break the silence.

"I'll live..."

From the dismissive answer, Hermione knew Minerva wouldn't let her inquire any further and thus let the subject be, for now. "Rose has her birthday party at the Weasleys' on Saturday, so I'm hoping to move most of my things to Hogwarts on Sunday..."

Minerva tilted her head as she noted the other woman's seemingly unenthused tone and weary chocolate eyes. She shoved the album in her hands on top of the other books, albums and diaries that she had retrieved the day before. The ex-Headmistress had been slow moving that morning, and she had decided to look through them before really getting to the rest of her 'spring-clean'. After all, she hadn't exactly gotten far the day prior. "It doesn't seem like you're excited," the Animagus stated calmly.

"I..." When she couldn't find the right words, she shook her head. She lifted her gaze upwards, looked at Minerva with red eyes. The thought of her row with Ron alone and the birthday party that Saturday, where both their friends and family and alcohol would be very nearby, made her fear that he might say too much and that way ruin their daughter's party. She should have waited to tell him the news until after at least, she thought.

Ronald usually tended to have a bit too much at parties at the Weasleys' and elsewhere. He then got chatty and far too candid to everyone. Some people say things they don't mean when they're intoxicated ── most of them, maybe. However, the words Ron spoke when he was intoxicated were words that came straight from the heart, so to speak. Hermione had discovered that very soon in their marriage. Come morning, he would never even remember his moments of truth. She still would, though.

She felt the tears well up. Rose and Hugo had, all in all, coped with the divorce very well. Nonetheless, she knew that they had suffered and still did from the changes, from the feelings that existed between their parents, in the aftermath. After all, it had not been all that long.

"What's the matter?" Minerva asked as she noticed the tears Hermione so desperately tried not to show.

Hermione's face fell. She sighed very softly, nearly inaudibly. "Ron and I had an awful fight last night. I told him that I left the Ministry and why and... I sort of regret that I told him. I am afraid that he'll mention it at Rose's party. I would really like it if it didn't get to the public, at least until I'm further along."

Minerva understood very well what she meant... She un-tucked her legs and stood. However, because the former professor hadn't changed her position in so long, her legs had gone numb. As she stood, she felt the tingling numbness, as well as a harsh, lancing pain in her ankle and had to reach for the armrest of the old dark red couch in order to stay on her feet. The ex-Headmistress had purposefully tried to sit in such a way that she wouldn't put any weight on her very sore ankle, but now, as she reached for Hermione to try to comfort her, she seemed to have somehow entirely forgotten about the injury.

Her fingers tightened on her long, ebony wand. She pushed off of the armrest and managed to plop on the couch Hermione occupied with what could loosely be construed as one more step. She waved her wand and conjured a pillow and an ice pack, not unlike the day before. She settled slightly better and lifted her ankle, then sighed at the small relief she felt and pulled Hermione in a one-armed hug as the first follow sob of many resounded from the woman with child. "Shh," Minerva soothed. "I know you don't believe it right now when it is still so soon after you turned your life upside down to accommodate for a new life, but it will all be all right. Believe me."

At that, Hermione lifted her gaze, so that she could look into the other woman's green eyes. Mocha and teal connected as Hermione brokenly whispered, "I believe you."

She didn't sound certain, but still a tiny smile came upon the ex-Headmistress' lips. "Good," she murmured, glad that her words appeared to have at least touched Hermione so that her tears ceased for a moment. Maybe Hermione realized that she was not alone in this. Minerva momentarily doubted whether to say it in words or not, but she kept herself from doing so. She didn't have to say it, for Hermione to know. She tightened her hold just a bit to make sure she knew and tenderly reached up with her other hand to wipe away the wet tear tracks from Hermione's flushed cheeks with her fingertips very gently before her hand fell away.

Hermione gripped Minerva to her tighter, sinking willingly into the embrace she so desperately wanted and needed as the unexpected moment of tenderness silently stretched on.