Chapter Two
February 14th, 1998
Never in all her years at Hogwarts has Minerva recalled a more depressing Valentine's Day. She can certainly recall a fair few bad ones on a personal level. As a whole, never to this magnitude. Granted she never thought Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be run by Death Eaters. It certainly has been a year of firsts.
The four long tables stretched out in front of her are unadorned of any glitter, confetti, silly hats or any other such nonsense. The esteemed Headmaster Snape would never tolerate such a frivolous display. So, no grand flight of owls swooping in to deliver letters of love and affection took place this year. Only quiet, mechanical eating hits her delicate Animagus hearing. The students' ashen faces looking only down at their breakfast plates or the occasional text book. Nearly everyone avoids eye contact with anyone else in the Great Hall. Unless it be mistaken for an antagonizing glare or one of plotting. It didn't take long for the three Death Eaters in the castle to make a clear point on how so-called wrong doers are handled. She has had Poppy in her personal quarters crying multiple times already this year over how many students she has treated for Cruciatus side-effects and a multitude of other dark curses. Hopelessness is becoming more prominent with each passing week.
She shuts her eyes to her disheartened students and tries to will away her tears, it won't do any good to show weakness amongst her colleagues and charges. They had once turned to her at the beginning, hopeful that Dumbledore had left her instructions on how to proceed. It quickly became apparent that she was just as clueless as everyone else. She would be lying if she said it didn't hurt to see the disappointed looks, and truthfully, she is disappointed as well. Not just in herself but in Dumbledore too. Having once counted Albus Dumbledore as a close friend, she took secret pleasure out of the general view that she was his right-hand woman. It was all a lie though. In reality he had shared nearly nothing. Once his funeral was over and the students sent home. The Order of the Phoenix had turned to her to lead, assuming she was more informed of Dumbledore's plan then themselves. How wrong everyone was.
Now Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are in hiding somewhere on a so-called mission to save them all. She knows Ronald Weasley had been with them at the beginning, but had been informed by a dejected looking Ginny Weasley after returning from Yule break, that her brother had left them in a moment of weakness. Now even he was unable to relocate them.
Thinking of Hermione only turns her bad mood even worse. How startlingly different this years and last year's Valentines are. How truly different all of Wizarding Britain is. She misses the young woman so strongly; she can literally feel her chest tightening with worry over the simplest thought of her. So, she had taken the cowards way and tried in vain not to think of the direction their friendship was heading over last school years Sunday tea.
Minerva's stomach has turned sour once more. Barely managing more than two bites of her dry toast, she gives up on her breakfast yet again. Eating this year in the Great Hall, like many things at Hogwarts are quickly becoming unbearable. She quietly tries to stand from her place at the head table, but Alecto Carrow's grating voice pulls her attention.
"Going so soon McGonagall? What too upset that a dried-up old spinster like yourself didn't get a card." Her mad crackling laugh fills the hall, the woman didn't even have the decency to finish chewing her eggs. Instead letting them spit out over her colleagues' plates. Minerva hopes there is a special place in hell for women like Alecto Carrow and Dolores Umbridge. For only truly despicable people take pleasure in torturing children.
Minerva bites back her comment to Alecto about how being pursued by one's brother doesn't count as a relationship.
Instead she turns to the woman, hating herself a little more for having to be somewhat polite to the woman, if only for the students benefit. " Yes, I do find the day rather depressing. If you will excuse me Professor Carrow, I have papers to grade." Not giving the vile woman a chance to reply Minerva all but storms out of the Great Hall.
Her long strides never falter as her heels hit the stone floor. Only stopping until she reaches the relative safety of her classroom. Slamming her door shut she sits heavily on her desk chair and for the first time that school year Minerva let's her head hit her wood desk in defeat. A growing part of her wants to curl up and just shut the world out. How can her beloved school possibly come back from this Hell?
She can't give up. Her students need her. So, she picks up her head, pulls out her 3rd year essays and tries to impart some sort of normalcy into Hogwarts. It is the very least she can do.
One of the first things Minerva had done upon returning to her quarters at Hogwarts was hide Hermione's Valentine letter. It sat safely tucked away underneath a loose floorboard in her bedroom. She found it slightly amusing that hiding something was sometimes best done the muggle way. Especially when hiding something from a wizard. She didn't want anyone to try and use Hermione's confession against her. Since placing it away, she hadn't dared bring it out, but tonight Minerva felt her resolve slipping. Dropping to her knees she pry's the loose board up with her long fingernails. Reaching her hand in she removes a simple wooden box. Inside a few remaining muggle pictures of her family and Hermione's letter are the only things among its contents. What a sad summary of her personal life. Minerva scoffs to herself.
Slipping under her tartan pattern bed spread. She finds herself once more hit with the affection of Hermione's words. Rereading the letter, a half dozen times she rests the letter against her heart and finally lets the tears she has been holding in all day roll down her cheeks.
Slowly she recalls every precious Sunday afternoon with Hermione to the forefront of her mind. Relaying her favorite moments in her head. She can picture the young woman quite clearly. Her beautiful brunette hair, that she swore had an almost magical quality to it. Her soulful brown eyes that Minerva found herself upon each meeting getting more and more lost in. By April Minerva had changed the location of there get togethers to her personal sitting room. She had a couch with a large coffee table that quickly became their spot for talking, drinking tea and the occasional game of chess or scrabble as Hermione had insisted on teaching her. Minerva was convinced the younger Gryffindor was simply tired of being trounced at chess and wanted to even the odds in her favor. Minerva got a certain thrill out of watching Hermione adamantly argue over a word. She later relishes she likes seeing Hermione's passion directed at herself.
There weekly tea had quite easily become the highlight of her week.
A sudden "pop" pulls Minerva out of her memories. Grabbing her wand, she points it at her intruder.
"Dobby is sorry for scaring missy McGonagall. Dobby is only doing what Harry Potters best friend asks." The house elf nervously twists his garish orange shirt with little purple hearts.
Minerva instantly perks at the name Harry Potter. She vaguely recalls Albus mentioning a paid house elf amongst the kitchen staff. She gathers a guess this is that elf.
The little elf approaches her bed and places a red envelope in her hand. " Dobby is to be wishing you a happy Valentine's Day Professor."
Minerva instantly recognizes the hand writing. Hermione Granger had sent her another letter. Her heart fills with an overwhelming warmth of affection. Turning to the small elf. "You have seen Miss Granger? Is she alright? Is she safe?"
The oddly dressed elf pulls on his ear in a nervous gesture. "Dobby's magic is not able to find them. Missy Hermy gave Dobby that letter last summer. With clear instructions to only give it to you on the night of Valentines and only if you are being alone."
An odd mixture of disappointment and pride washed over her. On one hand it was reassuring to know her Gryffindor has once more shown her diligence in planning ahead, and taking necessary precautions to ensure her safety. But her disappointment bleeds through, Hermione is still lost to her. Her fingers continuously rub over the stiff parchment. Itching in anticipation to open the letter and read her dear friends' words.
The Strange house elf clears his throat. Pulling her attention. "Dobby must be going. It won't be good if he is missed." And just as suddenly as he arrived the little elf "pops" away.
Sitting up in her bed Minerva tries without success to steady her breathing. Being the ever-practical woman, she folds and safely places her old letter back in the small box. Picks up her new letter and with barely controlled fingers she breaks the wax seal. Once again, a lightly dusted pink parchment is revealed, covered in Hermione's elegant script. A light fragrance hits her sensitive Animagus nose and she is hit with a sudden have of nostalgia. Parchment, ink and light traces of peach hit her, so uniquely Hermione. She didn't think it was possible before this moment to miss a smell so terribly much. The Scottish woman takes a second to just enjoy the moment. Her emerald eyes gaze down once more.
Dear Minerva,
I hope this letter finds you well or at the very least safe. I don't know if I could bare it if anything happened to you, you mean far too much to me. I miss you already and it has only been two weeks since I last saw you at the Burrow. It was far too brief an encounter for my liking and was a poor goodbye if I'm honest. Far too many things were left unsaid for my liking. I'm afraid my Gryffindor courage had left me in that moment.
So, I would like to correct that now.
First off, I feel like I owe you an apology. I have known since the headmaster's death that I wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts. That I would be accompanying Harry on his mission. I can't tell you what it is, only that it is important. One day I promise I will tell you what it is Dumbledore has us doing. I truly hate keeping this from you, but it would only place you and others in more danger.
Secondly, well this is a Valentines letter after all, so here it goes. Minerva McGonagall becoming your friend these last few months have been more than I could have hoped for. I am forever grateful you gave me this opportunity to get to know the true you. You are more of a beautiful person than I could ever imagine and am eternally grateful to have you in my life. I can only hope you will continue to be for many more years.
Forever yours,
Hermione Jean Granger
P.s. I am very much in love with you. Happy Valentine's Day.
An audible gasp leaves Minerva's lips. Gryffindor courage indeed. Only one thought shifts through her mind at such a revelation. Hope. Hope for a better future, one that she so desperately wants.
Hermione glances up into the cold winter sky. The stars are particularly bright tonight, being out in such a remote part of the forest. Usually such a sight would bring her a sense of peace, but the locket around her neck insures it doesn't. She is fairly sure its valentine's night, and hopefully Dobby had safely delivered her letter. A cutting breeze has her pulling her coat tighter, her bluebell flame only slightly warming her hands. She allows her thoughts to drift briefly to the stoic Scottish woman who has long since captured her heart.
A small smile forms at the thought of the older woman. The first smile in far too many weeks. She hopes she has brought her a little happiness this cold Valentine's Day.