A/n: Thank God I finally got around to posting this chapter. Thank God you're all still here and reading (assuming you are, because technically, you are reading this in this exact moment). Thank God Libby is still my beta, and thank God I'm finally shutting up and letting you dive into chapter twelve.


CHAPTER TWELVE

Like with everything else, Hermione had been utterly efficient, highly achieving and completely successful: She had managed to cut Minerva completely out of her life.

Three months had passed and the young witch had used her time well indeed. Her parents, as Minerva had heard from third parties, were back in the country, their memories wholly restored and the Granger Family reunited at last.

Hermione had taken her N.E.W.T.s (top grades only, of course, not that it surprised anyone) and was reportedly thriving at her new position at the Wizengamot.

When word had got out to the press that the star student had begun to apprentice under Gary Buckling, famous for revolutionising the medical malpractices law, she had been besieged by reporters and journalists desperate to get a picture or exclusive interview with her. Kingsley had done his best to restrict them from the ministry building, but to no real avail. They were everywhere, sneaking through the magical barriers or waiting for the young witch to appear near places where they knew to find her every other day, such as the flat Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley shared.

Since Hermione had moved back to London, she had been seen on various dates and meetings with the boys, as well as shopping with Ginny or being out with the Weasley clan. Minerva knew something momentous must be in the making. The press, it seemed, smelled a story as well.

The school year had started not even 9 weeks ago, and Minerva was already exhausted. The flow of paperwork seemed to have no end, owls kept flying in and out in one-second intervals, and worries about Hogwarts students and bills equally deprived her from every good night's sleep she would have managed otherwise. She felt like the North Pole in a world of disasters, attracting problems and predicaments wherever she went.

She forgot to eat, she forgot to sleep, and all that was still better than the alternative: thinking. She had done nothing else for three months, Hermione haunted her mind relentlessly, and the headmistress had had enough of it already. She dreaded to be left alone in her rooms, because as soon as budgets numbers or student files disappeared, the headache started. She tried not to think about her, but of course that only made matters worse.

It so happened that the day the younger witch stirred up the dust that Minerva had so carefully concealed their memories with, had been relatively calm.

No howlers received, no detentions declared, she had spent most of the day catching up on foreign affairs- the Americans were sending over additional legal examiners to ensure fair trials for the war criminals. There was, after all, almost no wizarding folk in Great Britain that specialized in law AND wasn't biased with opinions, either approving or denouncing of the Death Eaters and what they had done. Hermione must have her hands full with additional work as far as the eyes reached, Minerva mused.

Immediately, she regretted the thought, as memories, worries, and worst of all, feelings threatened to burst through the damn of reason she had willed herself to build. Apparently, only thinking the name was enough. Annoyed, she put the papers away she had been going over, knowing that the ephemeral victory of the day was ruined and concentration would not return for at least a couple of minutes.

Sulking, she sipped her tea, glimpsing at the wall clock, which was ticking away the seconds in the left corner of the room. It was twenty past eight, and a Friday no less, soon she would be able to heave a sigh of relief at the prospect of a rather calm weekend. But first, work.

She had chosen her usual place at the table in the centre of the staff room, waiting for Filius to emerge with the week's report. He wasn't yet late per se, their meeting was scheduled for half past, but in a silent agreement they usually arrived at least fifteen minutes early, both pleased to see the working day not drag out too much on occasion, no matter how devoted they both felt to their jobs.

Although she knew not much time could have passed since she last checked the time, she consulted the clock once again- at this point she wasn't trying to even look productive anymore. Twenty-two. If he didn't show up soon, she would start to worry. It wasn't like Filius to keep her waiting for more than ten minutes.

It was twenty-six past when someone finally opened the door, but the figure was much too tall for the small charms professor- very odd considering that the whole of her staff knew well how to keep clear of any duty past the official school hours on a Friday night. If she remembered correctly, Rolanda had convinced Pomona to go into Hogsmeade for a beer together, so it was anyone's guess who from her staff had decided to pay the usually vacant room a visit.

It took a moment before Minerva recognized Poppy in the attire she was wearing, being so used to the apron that the mediwitch practically wore day and night and sometimes didn't even discard on free days or the weekend. "Just in case," she always said.

"Hello, Minerva." Poppy smirked, gliding into the place opposite her. Noticing Minerva's questioning look, she rolled her eyes, sighing. "The others persuaded me to join them." She devoted Minerva one of her trying looks. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Minerva shook her head. "I'm waiting for Filius. He has the report."

"He won't come tonight." Poppy got up, taking a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses from a cabinet.

Minerva looked at her, eyebrow raised. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Quite."

The blonde witch put some whiskey in her glass, then offered Minerva some, who refused. Alcohol came after workfinished. The black haired witch leaned back in her chair. "Why?"

Poppy's voice was alarmingly innocent. "We were all hoping you might be convinced of coming with us. Half the staff is going. It will be a fun evening."

"Filius too?" Minerva said, surprised.

"No…" Poppy admitted. "But he thought you could both use the break. He said the report didn't contain anything that couldn't wait for another week."

"Ah" Minerva said, unsure if she should ask him for the papers anyway or just call it a day.

"Come with us," Poppy begged once again.

"Oh, but I can't, Poppy. Too much work."

"Yes, it has not been an easy start of the school year for all of us. I can only imagine how much you must currently have on your plate."

Now Minerva also took a glass, but filled it only half. She was still wary of having too much to drink, history had proven that even in times of peace it was important to stay clear headed, and even more so if you were enraptured in feelings and not really behaving like yourself.

She twirled the alcohol in her glass, then took a good swing from it before putting it down again. "When are you leaving?" she asked.

"Not for a while. Ro and Pomona have already left. Hagrid will accompany me and Aurora into the village later." Her look wandered over to the papers still on the table. "I wouldn't want to use up all your time." She said, standing up, undoubtedly intending to leave.

But Minerva held her back softly. "No. Stay. We haven't talked in forever."

"And whose fault is that?" Poppy held her hands up when she saw the way Minerva was looking at her. "I know, I'm sorry… We just wish you'd accept our help from time to time."

"No need to be sorry. If anyone, it's me who should apologize. I haven't really been myself lately."

"And who would blame you. After all this loss, there are still those who suffer the most. Albus would have known what to do, silly old man."

"Indeed. I often wonder if he really had all the solutions, or if he was just the best at pretending."

"No need to be so gloomy. The relief on everyone's face isn't fake. The joy. There are still enough things in life that make it worth living."

Minerva snorted into her glass. "Don't tell me you're talking about love."

"Why not? Everyone else is. I heard Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter are getting engaged."

"No chance in heaven. They are children, Poppy. You shouldn't believe everything you read… especially if it comes from the tabloids."

Poppy ignored her scolding and moved an inch closer, trying to get Minerva to hold their eye contact. "Just because they are children doesn't mean they are immune to feelings, Minerva. Remember how we were. Remember how you were." She looked at her in a meaningful way, before breaking their eye contact and leaning back in her chair. She chuckled lightly.

"Love, cry, repeat. Isn't that what you always used to say?"

"No, I don't remember saying that…"

"Well I sure do."

When Minerva was still shaking her head, Poppy gave her her best "don't bullshit me" look, raising a comic eyebrow at the black haired witch. "Common, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"What? I don't."

"Ha!" Poppy laughed, outraged by Minerva's obvious lying. "You don't remember that blonde girl from Slytherin, you know, who always wore that high ponytail brushed back to the point where you thought her scalp would be ripped off? Or the dancer, I can't remember what her name was?"

Minerva shook her head, but her eyes were avoiding Poppy's guiltily.

"Because I do! Well, not their names but that is beside the point. You literally had a crush on not one but two girls in our fifth year at Hogwarts. No one would have believed me if I told them how passionately you were protecting them, stealing glances, hanging around where they frequently went…"

"Stop!" Minerva hissed, looking worriedly at the door. "What would the students think?" But the black haired witch found that she was smiling herself.

"And what about that redhead? Charlotte? Celine?"

"Celia," Minerva mumbled, trimming the rim of her glass with her index finger.

"Yes, Celia…" Poppy was silent for a moment, smiling at the thought of all the old memories coming back. "She was something else, wasn't she?"

"Hmmm." Minerva hummed in agreement. "One in a million."

For a while none of them spoke, and Minerva was hesitant to break the silence. But the words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.

"I went to see her a couple of months ago."

Poppy looked up, intrigued, giving Minerva the signal to go on.

"That was just after…" She paused. "...after the war ended. She wasn't difficult to trace, and I don't know why I never did. Things could have been different."

"Well- are they now?" Poppy said sternly, narrowing her eyes.

Minerva only waved it off. "Oh no, we have been over for a long time. I just needed to ask her a couple of things." When Minerva didn't follow up with an explanation, Poppy snickered, unsatisfied.

"Don't just sit there and let me draw every single word out of you," Poppy said heatedly, though she calmed down in an instant to deliver the next line perfectly; slow and determined. "So? What did she say?"

The other witch sighed, she looked more tired than even after the battle. Poppy could only imagine how much sleep she was getting. Or rather, how little.

"It was not so much the things that she said." Minerva couldn't stand to look at Poppy, so instead she concentrated on the clock, ticking. "I think she was shocked to see me. She didn't expect me to come back, I guess. And if I'm being honest, I don't suppose she wanted me to."

Minerva could hear Poppy let out a long breath, which she couldn't quite interpret, but she figured that if she wasn't going to go through with trying to explain her feelings to somebody else, she might never come to understand them herself.

"The way I hurt her… you could see to her it was unforgivable. And of course I knew that, coming to her house decades after we last spoke. But only then I realized what my mistake was. My first mistake. She didn't even have to make the point, I had already done it for her without even having to say a word."

"Now hold on a minute." Poppy furrowed her brow. "Mistake? What mistake are you talking about?"

"I…" Minerva rasped, clearing her throat tensely before she continued. "I thought that I could control my feelings, like I controlled my grades, homework, calories… I thought that if I just had enough will, I could get rid of the sickness, the excitement. To make myself believe, I slept with other people, pretended not to care, and I succeeded in convincing everyone, including myself, that Minerva McGonagall was no stupid teenager. No slave to love, but a woman in control." She gave a sad laugh, which made Poppy's heart clench in the most terrible way.

"The truth is, I never was. There are only so many things I can make myself forget. And they would always come back to the surface, no matter how hard I tried to push them down." Her voice became ironic, mocking, almost. "The invincible Minerva, crushed by her own feelings."

"I fail to see the problem in all this, Minerva. Why do you so desperately want to be celestial, when these things only make you you. A human being with not only a strong-willed mind but a strong-willed heart."

Minerva shook her head, unwilling to accept the other witches' words. "When I first saw Celia again three months ago, my heart beat faster, Poppy. After all those years! I may not be as sickly in love as I was back then, but I do still love her, in some way."

"You say that as if it were an awful thing. She loved you and you loved her, not many people are that lucky."

"But I never wanted it!" Minerva almost spat, but when she saw the hurt look on Poppy's face she willed herself to calm her voice. "The problem is that now I don't know what to do anymore. I've spent my whole life thinking that there was this one path I would follow, and that I would only make it if I didn't allow anything to get me off track. But if there is no end anyway, then why the fuck fight the beginning?"

"God, I wish I could answer that Minerva." Poppy refilled both their glasses and downed hers all in one swig. "But I don't think you expected me to answer anyway?"

Minerva didn't answer, but took her glass and sipped on it too.

"Look." Poppy sat up in her seat, nonverbally signalling Minerva to listen. "The way I see it, you've got two options. First one is tell the person that you're obviously so madly in love with-"

She was interrupted by Minerva trying to object, but Poppy silenced her with a wave of her hand.

"Don't you dare try to lie to me, Minerva. It's insulting my abilities as a medical observer and friend, as it is blatantly clear that you have butterflies in your stomach and Merlin knows where else. I have eyes, you know?"

At this Minerva was silent, not knowing how she should respond. Also, she was interested in what the mediwitch was going to say.

"So, first choice is obviously telling them…"

Or maybe not. Minerva slumped in her chair.

Poppy, who had observed Minerva's reaction very closely; watched her every move and expression, was shocked to see how much her friend seemed to be suffering. The expression on Poppy's face became a pained one.

"Oh, Minerva… That bad? Originally I would have said wait to see how much they would be interested in a relationship, spend time with them and go from there, but I have a feeling you need a more prompt solution."

"Poppy, you don't know what you're talking about. You couldn't understand how complicated everything has come to be."

"Then tell me what the problem is."

"If you knew who it was…" Minerva drew in a shaky breath.

"Yes?"

"If you knew who it was, you'd hate me."

Poppy crooked her eyebrow. "And why would I do that?"

Minerva just shrugged, which made Poppy sigh in return.

"Well this is no state to live in, is it. Be rational, Minerva. No one could keep this up."

"I can't tell her," Minerva whispered. All strength was gone from her voice, she looked more spent than Poppy had ever seen her.

"Promise me you'll think about it."

Minerva looked at her constrainedly.

"Just think about it, yes?" Without waiting for an answer, Poppy stood up, rounding the table to get another bottle of liquor.

Out of nowhere, the black haired witch suddenly half laughed, half sighed. "Ha. The irony…"

Poppy, though startled by the sudden exclamation on Minerva's part, was glad to detect an undertone of bemusement in the raven haired witch's voice. Minerva tilted her head to the side, raising her almost empty glass. "It's all I ever do. It's what I do best. So let's drink to this: no more thinking."

Poppy clinked her glass with Minerva's, though when she moved to refill the other witches' glass, Minerva stopped her.

"I've had enough for today." She gave Poppy a smile.

Poppy laughed, only finding her way back into her chair with worrying difficulty. "Just as well," she said. "I'm in the mood for drinking for two." And -truthful to her words- she wasted no time in moving into action.

"Just watch where you put your feet later, it's been getting slippery outside." Minerva laughed when Poppy tried to prove how well she could still hold her balance, only to bump into the leg of a chair with one of her ankles and swear for a minute straight before Minerva managed to get her back into her seat.

"Let's not try this again," Minerva chuckled.

"Why? This is fun." She tried to laugh but suddenly her face grew green and she looked like she was going to be sick.

"Oh no, Poppy. No, no, no, not in the staff room!" Minerva jumped to Poppy's side, but the blonde witch waved her off.

"Everything's fine! Fine!" she exclaimed, almost knocking her glass of whiskey off the table.

Minerva held her ears, only slightly annoyed. "You don't have to scream, I'm standing right beside you."

"I should go to Hagrid's. 's getting late." Poppy mumbled, trying to get up but Minerva held her back.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Poppy." Minerva held the blonde witches arm when she tried to get up again, this time successfully.

"No, no, I think I can manage." Poppy's voice was getting groggier by the minute, and Minerva was getting worried she wouldn't even make it to Hagrid's hut. Just that moment, Aurora Sinistra's head peeked through the door.

"There you are! I've looked everywhere for you, Poppy." When she saw the state the blonde witch was in though, combined with the empty bottle on the table, she put two and two together.

"Have you been drinking already?!"

"Only a little," Poppy giggled.

"Oh Merlin, how am I supposed to get her down the stairs in that state?" Aurora shot Minerva a helpless look.

"She belongs into her bed," Minerva agreed, steering the wobbling Poppy over to the fireplace. "You get the floo powder, I keep her upright." Together, they managed to get her into her own sleeping quarters and onto her bed, Poppy now too sleepy to really try to object.

"But I need to go to the party," she whined softly as Minerva pulled a blanket over her body. "You my dear, need sleep. You'll be hungover enough as it is." Gently brushing blonde strands out of Poppy's face, she stood up but had to wait for a beat before the dizziness faded and she could join Aurora at the door.

"Have you been drinking as well?" The other witch shot her a surprised look.

"I can manage on my own, if that is your concern, Aurora. Though I still appreciate the gesture." Both witches made their way out of the infirmary, careful not to let the door close too loudly.

"And you really don't want to join us?"

"No, I will return to my office. Paperwork, you know the drill."

Professor Sinistra nodded politely, already extracting into the direction of the great entrance. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

Minerva watched the professor leave before starting to make her way to the stairs, not trusting her mind enough yet to venture an apparition. Her watch told her it was shortly before curfew, so she would not be likely to cross paths with many students anyway.

It was just a moment later, when a boy rushed past her, almost causing her to lose her hat in the process. "Good evening, headmistress!" he yelled but soon enough he was gone.

"No running in the hallways!" She called after him but wasn't serious about trying to stop him, deeming it a useless waste of energy. She made her way to the grand staircase, her steps echoing back from the walls.

She was enraptured in a place between thinking and not thinking, her mind going endless rounds that she deemed too unimportant to make the effort to store, and so she walked the hallways in a blissful state of unawareness and detachment that felt calming after such an eventful evening, despite all her best intentions to spend it working. It was only natural that her mind was still far behind on reality when she heard someone say her name, so naturally, she turned around without thinking. Blissfully unaware, she stumbled into the trap.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Had it not been a Friday evening after a relatively successful week, all the bells in her alarm system would have rung, but she was tired and still a little tipsy, and her mind occupied with temporary joy, unable to connect the dots at first.

Minerva turned, and glared. It was a woman, in fashionable, sophisticated clothes, her hair kept, her looks dashing as always: her downfall, one Hermione Granger. Because she had misjudged the distance between the speaker and herself, they were now so near that she could smell Hermione's perfume. It was sweet, yet deeply alluring, and it hit the black haired witch exactly where it shouldn't. The older witch could feel desire boiling up in her veins as if it was trying to cook her alive. And all she could think was: "Is this what comes of getting away from me?"

"Minerva." Hermione breathed her name more than she said it, and although she had been the one to call her back, she seemed equally shocked. She was the one who recovered faster, though.

"I hope I'm not disrupting your Friday night. Is there somewhere we might talk?" She said.

Minerva would have moved mountains for her. Maybe this was a bad idea, but she was too far gone to care. "Come," she said, taking Hermione's arm and leading her down the corridor. Her breath was unsteady, her knees were weak, the rush of adrenalin making it difficult to keep focus and not trip over her garments.

Shit.

To speed up their way to her office, she managed to get her wand in position, Hermione still following behind her, and on a whim she apparated them directly up into the tower. Only when her feet stumbled in search for a new surface to land on, finding none, and her body crashed into another, she realized her mistake. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

''

For a moment, both women were too shocked to move. While falling, she had caught Hermione's body and crushed them both into a bookcase standing about one meter from the point Minerva actually had wanted to apparate to. Her stomach was still upset, she'd had no time for supper and the drink and apparition had done nothing to calm it down. Her cheeks were red, burning with embarrassment, but the older witch was too busy trying to calm her nerves at the thought just how close she was to Hermione now.

The worries she'd had about distance before were nothing against the distress she felt at being pressed to the young woman's body as she was, she could feel every curve of her body and even- she daren't even think about it- the way Hermione's chest moved up and down in an attempt of catching her breath.

That was the moment Minerva remembered to breathe as well, and she gasped, trying to fill her lungs with air.

"God, I am so sorry!" Even she could hear how much her voice was shaking, and she willed herself to calm down and focus on getting the extra weight off of Hermione's body, as they were threatening to slip and fall, their position undoubtedly very uncomfortable for the person underneath.

Hermione released hands Minerva hadn't even known were wrapped around her body, and she stood up, straightening her clothes, not being able to look the brown haired witch into the eyes.

"Don't worry about it," she heard Hermione mumble, much closer than Minerva would have thought. She turned. Hermione was standing not more than three feet away, staring at her, as if she was going to say something. To save her the embarrassment, Minerva quickly stuttered out the first words she could think of.

"Tea? Would you like to have some tea or…" she tailed off.

"Or…?" Hermione looked at her confusedly and Minerva blinked, noticing that she had been gaping again.

"Did I say or? I'm afraid, I only have tea," she managed. Knowing that Hermione was watching her facial expressions, she suppressed a wince. It was already an awkward situation, and she wasn't making it better with her clumsy comments.

The expression on Hermione's face was difficult to decipher, but when the younger witch wordlessly sat down in one of the armchairs standing about, the older witch trusted her intuition enough that Hermione wasn't going to leave immediately.

Minerva rattled in the kitchen for about ten minutes before she came out again, tablet full with tea pots and ginger newts in hand. They didn't speak until Minerva had finished pouring in the tea.

"I hope you like black-" "I'm so sorry for-"

They both started talking at the same time, laughing nervously, until Minerva motioned for Hermione to go on.

"I just wanted to say that I'm terribly sorry for intruding like this, I know you must be awfully busy."

"Not much more than you, I hear…"

"Yes- umm… well there was no one else I could think of, and I know we haven't spoken in a while I just-" She closed, opened, and closed her mouth again, visibly confused how she should phrase her next sentence. "The thing is, I need your advice!" She seemed almost relieved to get it out of her mouth.

"My… advice?" Minerva had no clue where the younger witch was going with this and the idea to find out intrigued her as much as it made her anxious.

"Yes, your council. You see, I've recently found out something huge, something that I cannot tell a great many people, also because they would advise me to do one thing, out of their own selfishness, and not think about what it would mean for me."

"What makes you think I am different," a tiny voice in the back of her head whispered, but Minerva silenced it soon enough. Instinct told her that she would need her attention for what was to come. "Go on," she said instead to Hermione.

"Well the thing is…" she jumped out of her seat and was now pacing around, unable to keep still. Then she looked back to Minerva and the older witch thought as if the look went right through her skin and into her soul.

"I am getting married. Maybe. To Ron." Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "That is, he is going to propose, and soon I would think. I found the ring while doing his laundry." She scoffed. "I didn't expect it, I mean maybe I could've seen it coming but I… and now I don't know what to do. So I came here, hoping that… Minerva, I don't know what to tell him."

Her voice was so small Minerva had difficulties understanding the last sentence. In her head, all wheels were turning, contemplating, weighing, dismissing. Hermione was looking at her, begging her to say something. And so in a state of panic she uttered the word that the Minerva from yesterday, and the Minerva from five months ago, would have wanted her to say. The words were over her lips before she could take them back.

"Yes."

"…Yes?" Hermione was visibly shocked, and Minerva wondered for a brief moment if it had been the right answer after all.

"Tell him yes."

Hermione didn't answer.

Oh god, what have I done.

Steel, she needed steel.

"I am no expert in marriage but I think that is what most people do. They get married." The weakness already remerging, she uttered another sentence. "That is the answer you wanted to hear, was it not?" Her voice quivered a little, but she didn't think Hermione would notice. If she came here, asking her, of all goddamn people, if she should marry that weasel Ronald, Hermione had missed one crucial point already.

Meanwhile, Hermione had found her voice again. "How can you say such a thing?" She released a choked breath, half hiss, half sob. Now it was Minerva who was decidedly overwhelmed.

"I came here because…" Hermione pulled herself together as best as she could manage. "I came here because I would never marry Ron if you didn't say I should."

And suddenly, Minerva was so sick and tired of it all. "What does my opinion matter?" she said.

The brown haired witch stared at her for a long time, during which neither witch moved, the tension in the room building up to the unbearable, until finally, Hermione said: "That's all you're gonna say?"

Minerva couldn't fathom what she had done wrong. She had put her needs aside, and given Hermione the answer she had thought would make the younger witch the happiest. Nothing more, nothing less.

Hermione didn't think so, though. She was heaving her breaths, waiting for Minerva to finally figure it out. After a good minute of dreadful silence, she had enough. With tears gathering in her eyes she turned on her heels and escaped the office, practically running for the door and tearing it open with maybe too much force. The sound the door made when it collided with the stone wall of her office finally tore Minerva out of her paralysis. And suddenly, everything made sense.

"I would never marry Ron if you didn't say I should." It wasn't a question. It was a proposition. Minerva's chance to come forward. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to marry Ron. Hermione wanted her to say something against it.

Hastily, Minerva stumbled after Hermione, bumping into the door, she made it down the stairs surprisingly well. Her shoulder throbbed from the collision but she didn't care, her focus was on Hermione only. She needed to catch up with her before it was too late.

Hermione was quicker than she had imagined, but fear lent her wings. In a side corridor, she finally managed to catch up.

"Hermione! Hermione, wait!" She tried grabbing the younger witches arm, but Hermione yanked it out of her grasp, spinning around, her eyes glistening with tears, but in them was only rage and resentment.

"No, haven't you said enough!" She hissed, and Minerva could feel her breath dancing over her skin.

"Please Hermione! I… I'm… look, I…" she could hear herself stutter. It was pathetic. But she was so afraid.

"Hermione…" Her voice broke.

The younger witch just stared down on her, her jaw tensed, her voice bitter. "Hmm. Goodbye, Minerva." And her warm body pulled away.

When the other woman had disappeared around the corner, the torches on the walls still flickering from the wind she had created, Minerva couldn't stop herself from letting out a muffled moan. Immediately, she covered her mouth, afraid that someone might hear.

She decided she could not stay there any longer. Feline paws carried her silently back to her quarters, where she shut the door, leaning against it in full depletion.

No more thinking, she decided. Today she'd done enough for weeks on end, and what good had it done? She needed a glass of Scotch. Now. Or maybe a bottle, if she was already at it.


A/n: Now, I can't promise anything, but reviewing might get you your happy end sooner than planned ;)