The final duel is here folks. One more chapter to follow this one, and then an epilogue. It's almost over.

Chapter Twenty-Three

On the morning of the twenty-seventh of July, Minerva awoke with a pit in her stomach. The duel between her and Hermione wouldn't begin until after lunch, but she had plenty to do beforehand. First of all, she had to meet Harry. The two of them were going to be taking the subway over to MACUSA to meet his eldest son James, who by now had arrived via portkey there and would be procuring an item for them, before they escorted him back to the hotel for the Duel-Off final. In reality, had they not needed him to do this slightly illegal favor, he likely would have declined the invitation, but family was family and James Sirius Potter was not above breaking the law to help out family.

Harry Potter was brilliant, Minerva realized, even if she absolutely wanted to hate him for the failsafe he'd come up with to prevent Hermione from killing her, should she begin having flashbacks during the duel. Worse, Harry had insisted that they not tell Hermione what they were going to do, so that she couldn't defend against it. He hated to be that cut-throat, and so did she, but she was also rather fond of living.

Minerva was surprised to run into the other Potter boy, Albus, in the lobby. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting for Tanner," he explained.

She gave him a puzzled look. Hermione had mentioned that her godson would be coming back for the duel today in support, but she had no recollection of Albus Potter and Tanner Hagrid ever having any sort of relationship. "Did your aunt ask you to meet him?"

Albus looked at the floor awkwardly. "Um. Not really. I just thought he might like a bloke to hang with this morning till the duel starts. Roland's too wrapped up in Rose to fuss with him. Jamie may want to hang with us when he gets here, too. I mean, He's Aunt Hermione's godson. Shouldn't us Potter kids know him better anyway?"

Minerva had never felt more suspicious of a Potter in her life, and that was saying a lot considering the vast experience she'd had with educating not one, not two, but three generations of Potters. Hell, she'd even known a fourth generation of the blasted family. He was clearly hiding something, but she hadn't the time to sort it now. She would, however, bet the Gryffindor House Cup that it had something to do with the row Albus had with his mother. "I'm sure Mister Hagrid would appreciate your company," she said simply. "Do kindly try not to be too bad an influence on his manners if you please. He does spend some of his holiday at my house."

"He does?" Albus asked, looking surprised. "Why?"

"Your aunt, Hermione, is his godmother, but my brother, Robert, is his godfather. Tanner visits Robert at McGonagall Manor over the holidays," she admitted, perplexed by the boy's sudden interest in her brother's godson.

Albus narrowed his eyes. "Your brother, Robert, is here, yeah?"

Minerva frowned, suspicion growing. "Indeed. Likely in some corner with a book. Scrawny git. Grey hair. Least good looking of the McGonagall siblings."

The boy snorted. "I could just cast a locator charm, you know."

"True, but I enjoy insulting him," she admitted. "I'll take you to him if you like. I have a minute and Tanner won't be here for an hour, according to Hermione."

"Alright, I mean, I suppose he'd be an interesting bloke to meet," Albus shrugged.

Very suspicious indeed, Minerva thought. Still, perhaps Robert could worm it out of the lad. As usual, Robert was occupying the table nearest the bar in the dining hall, close to the grandfather clock. He had a fondness for the deafening chime on the hour that could be heard all over the hotel. "Albus Potter, Robert McGonagall."

Robert looked up from his book.

"Robert, this is Harry's middle boy, Albus. He was inquiring after Tanner and was intrigued when I mentioned you were the boy's godfather," she explained. "I offered an introduction."

Her brother looked at Albus critically. "What do you want with Tanner, boy?"

"Uh," Harry's son stuttered. "Want with him? To be his mate, I guess."

"He's never mentioned you."

Minerva gaped at her brother, astounded at how short he was being with this young man. Robert was a Mediwizard and he worked with children all the time. This was absolutely not how he behaved around them.

"Wouldn't imagine he had, sir," Albus replied warily. "I said I want to be his mate. Not that I was."

"Why the sudden change of heart, Potter?" Robert wanted to know.

"Merlin, Robert, what's with the bloody inquisition!" she finally snapped.

"It's okay, Professor," Albus said with a sigh. "He just wants to know what I know."

"So you know then?" Robert asked sharply, leaning forward and getting up in Albus' face. Minerva was fairly sure she had stepped in something she really should not have stepped in.

"Yes," Harry's middle child said. "I'm the only one though. I haven't even said anything to him. I'm not planning on it either, for now."

"That's best, boy, you hear?" her brother said firmly.

"Sure," Albus agreed easily. "That wasn't a debate. We can talk more later if you like. Your sister looks like she's about to blow her top. Were you in Slytherin?"

Robert chuckled. "Much to my sister's annoyance."

"You're both fucking snakes," she pouted, realizing all at once that her cat-like curiousity was not about to get satiated. Neither of them were going to tell her what they had been discussing, although she surmised it had something to do with Tanner. Hermione may have some idea.

"You don't swear at Hogwarts," the younger of the two Slytherins observed.

"I don't do a lot at Hogwarts I might do other places."

"Shag, for instance?" Robert inquired.

"For instance," she allowed.

"You are definitely more entertaining when you are getting regularly shagged, if I may say so," Albus remarked.

She scowled at the gall. "You may not say so. Excuse me now, I have a slightly more mature Potter to meet."

"I can't believe you just called Dad mature!" Albus called at her back as she walked away. "He'll be thrilled to hear you finally admitted he's a grown-up now!"

Hermione could feel the poison coursing through her veins. She'd known the minute she'd seen Harry's eldest son walk into the lobby what failsafe had been put into place. Her arm for a bezoar right now, she thought as she moved into the arena, ears ringing. She looked at Minerva, who was walking stiffly beside her. Licking her lips again, she took a guess. "Abrin's Consort?"

Minerva nodded. "You've got about thirty minutes. Harry has the antidote. If we can feasibly end this duel properly without looking like I've thrown the match in less than thirty minutes, everything will be fine. If you lose control, I only need to stay out of your reach that long, and then we get you the antidote as soon as you're down."

"As soon as I'm dead, you mean," Hermione scowled. "What's your plan for if the antidote doesn't work after that much delay?"

Minerva winced. "Pray."

Hermione sighed. "I realize I have every reason to be bloody well pissed, but this isn't just about me. If I lose control, I could hurt more than just you. Harry realized this. That's why he talked you into such drastic measures. Do not feel guilty, my love."

A quick glance at the clock after she and Minerva bowed to one another and began to pace toward opposite sides of the mat showed that the duel that would determine her fate in more ways than one would begin at just shy of half past one. Eight steps. Nine steps. Ten steps. Turn.

"Valde resina!" she hissed for an opening spell, and the entire crowd rushed to cover their ears as a high pitched banshee shriek echoed through the room. She of course was proactively wearing protective ear wear, although Minerva was not and like everyone else, was now suffering the after effects of the sound which included dizziness and nausea. It would wear off in about fifteen minutes.

That was what they got for bloody poisoning her.

Minerva looked murderous. "Primo artus!"

Hermione's limbs suddenly felt as though they were being squeezed; constricted for the sake of immobilization. It didn't take her long to recognize this spell as a medical one used for patients who had problems retaining fluids, but in the current situation it was restricting her flexibility greatly and no matter how many damn counter spells she tried, she could not seem to disable it. Bugger! Bugger bloody Poppy and the mile long list of spells she'd developed during the war specifically with patients like Snape in mind who had a nasty habit of trying to waltz out of treatment! This had to be one of those! The patient couldn't counter it, only someone else could. Shite!

"Aranea!" she shouted in frustration, remembering a spell she'd developed in the wake of a particularly bad spat with Ron. His fears had been her inspiration, and she couldn't help the snort of amusement now as Minerva attempted to use some pretty heavy slicing hexes to break free of the spider webs that were rapidly weaving themselves around her. Fortunately for the older woman, it didn't take her long to puzzle out that a simple Aguamenti would dissolve the entire thing.

Back and forth they went for a little while, Hermione relishing in the battle of wits more than the duel itself. Everything was fine for the first fifteen minutes, and then Minerva cast a spell which conjured lightning, and all of a sudden there wasn't a blue mat beneath Hermione's feet. There was a Persian carpet. It wasn't Minerva's wearied face a few feet away from her. It was Bellatrix.

Fear took hold and Hermione gripped her wand tightly. Part of her knew - she knew - that what she was seeing and what was happening were two very different things. Still, as Bellatrix cast a spell at her, she defended, and retaliated harshly and with all of the hatred she'd ever felt for the witch who'd carved the word Mudblood into her arm. Lighting struck outside of Malfoy Manor, just like in her memory, and then in an instant, she was back at the Duel-Off and it was Minerva instead of Bellatrix.

Now, though, Minerva didn't look weary. She looked worried. "Hermione?"

"I'm here," she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. "For now."

A glance at the clock showed that another five minutes had passed. She only had ten minutes left before the Abrin's Consort took hold and her organs started shutting down in rapid fire. She could already feel it taking hold; she could feel an ache in her lower back that hinted at kidney failure, and the fact that it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe hinted at compromised lung and heart function.

"For the love of Merlin," Minerva pleaded. "To hell with legal trouble, I'll throw the match."

"I am not going to be responsible for what that does to your career," she ground out stubbornly. "Don't even think about it. I will never, ever forgive you."

"Gaahh!" the older witch exclaimed in frustration.

Then, to the immense surprise of the entire crowd, the two ceased using magic for the most part and resorted to hand-to-hand combat. Kicks and punches were thrown, along with the occasional close quarter shield charm. Hermione and Minerva had never discussed if either of them had physical combat training, but evidently they both did. This worked out well for them considering that if they had one major thing in common it was that they both employed sticking charms on their wands during combat, preventing the likes of something like a summoning charm or a simple disarming spell to be effective as a means to defeat them. That said, it was absolutely possible to physically knock their wands out of their hands. Metaphysics versus physics, and physics would win in this case.

It crossed Hermione's mind, and Minerva's too the younger witch imagined, that with this form of combat either of them could come out the winner. Hermione had gone into this duel feeling very like it was all for show, and that it wasn't a fair fight at all for a number of reasons, and that there would be no real pride in the win, knowing Minerva wasn't trying to beat her out of it. Now, however - and the grin in Minerva's sweaty face confirmed her theory - the older witch had realized she had a chance and would fight for it.

As would she.

Kick, punch, dodge, parry, block, duck, shield, block, kick, block, punch, punch, OUCH!

Hermione rubbed her now sore jaw, Minerva having landed an uppercut quite nicely. The older woman offered an apologetic grin, before twisting her fingers around her wand. "Glacies," the older woman said, pointing at the floor.

The soft mat turned into a fucking sheet of ice, and Hermione was on her arse in seconds. "Lapsus," she rasped out, breathless. "Accio Minerva."

A moment later, Minerva also slipped, and then slid right to where Hermione was still lying flat on her back. As the older witch came close enough, Hermione reached out and stiffened her hand, bringing it down on Minerva's wrist, forcing her to drop her wand.

Both her and Minerva's wands in her hand, she held them both up in the air from where she was still laying on her back, on the ice. Exhausted and breathless, she turned her head to check the time. She needn't have bothered, as she could hear the grandfather clock in the lobby chime two o' clock.

She was already out of time.

Then, she had a thought. Did she really need two of those?

Please don't hurt me. Reviews? *looks sheepish*