A/N: Just a quick thing that I thought was a one-shot and turned into a more-shot. It's a little all over the place, so forgive me for that. Chapters day by day - it's complete.
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Minerva sighed as she unpinned her hair. It had been a long day and the tight bun had given her a headache that all women with long hair suffered from at one time or another. Rather than sitting down to do more work, Minerva shuffled over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself two fingers of Macallan. She swirled the liquid around the glass and knocked it back with a grimace. Her father would be incredibly disappointed at her lack of respect for the drink, but she cared little. He'd been dead nearly 40 years and the prior 20 hadn't been all that pleasant anyway.
She sighed as thoughts of the ones that they had lost came to mind and the very thing she was trying not to think about, returned. Albus had been dead for two years and it had been three since that paltry excuse for a witch had attacked her in the name of the Ministry. Three years of incessant aches and pains. Three years of unsightly scars and self-doubt. Three years of remembering. Throw in a war, and death and torture and Merlin knew what else. And all the while, without her best friend.
She glanced up at his portrait. She wished he would sleep less; he was a portrait, after all, he didn't get tired but he slept on regardless and she understood in a way. So she let him. She feltbly alone though and it wore on her. She saw the new wrinkles every day around the hollowness in her eyes.
Her thoughts swung back to the fragment of conversation she'd overheard.
She can't be here much longer, surely? She's gotta retire soon.
It shocked her that people were talking about her like that. She had only just taken the job! She sighed again, something she had never done as much as she did since taking this post. She slumped against the back of the sofa and stared balefully down at the glass in her hand. This had been her dream. Taking the reins from Albus and steering the school on a path back to prosperity. Now, in the face of it, she was so unsure. They were already muttering behind her back. She was old and they thought that she couldn't do it. In the darkness of her quarters, when everyone else disappeared and her mask slipped, she had started to believe them.
A knock on the door drew a groan and she looked longingly at the bottle. It was Saturday tomorrow and while she was required to be available, it was not her weekend to take a duty. She had been looking forward to getting a little bit sloshed and sleeping until noon.
It was not to be.
She magically wound up her hair again, wincing against the pull, and took a moment to herself before opening the door. The scotch had relaxed her tense shoulders only slightly, which is why she had expected to need to finish the entire bottle before she could pass out. She opened it with a bit of a huff, letting the unexpected guest know that their presence wasn't exactly welcome, but she paused as she saw that familiar smiling face.
"Miss Granger?"
"Hello Professor," Hermione Granger said with a smile. "I know it's your Friday night and you're not on duty tomorrow but," she paused. Minerva's eyebrow showed her displeasure. She adored the young woman, but it was terribly unfortunate timing on her part that could hardly be helped.
"What can I do for you, Miss Granger?"
"I, I guess I just wondered how you were?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Minerva took a step back, recognising the resolute look on Hermione's face as one she wore herself. It would not be swayed until whatever was troubling her was resolved.
"Come in Miss Granger, I daresay this is not a conversation I should be forced into having in my own doorway."
"I am sorry, in a way," Hermione shrugged. "But I just -"
She stopped again and sat down, looking at her hands. Minerva walked back over to her drink, feeling comfortable enough with Hermione to continue on her quest for silence. It dragged on and Minerva's patience was wearing out. She finished the last of her drink in an effort to prevent her temper, but as she swallowed, she gave in.
"What is it, Hermione?" Minerva asked finally.
"I -" She glanced over and saw Hermione wringing her hands a little before she realised and clasped them still. Minerva didn't have the temerity to cope with all this now.
"Hermione! Speak," Minerva snapped. She saw the young woman jump and Minerva opened her mouth to apologise but Hermione beat her to it.
"I'm worried about you." There it was. The thing she'd been avoiding almost as much as she had been avoiding dealing with the anguish of Albus' death. The girl's eagle-eyed gaze. On her. All the time. Watching. Staring. "Professor?"
"I heard you, Miss Granger," Minerva muttered, deciding to return to the title she'd had before the war.
"Don't do that," Hermione said quietly. "Don't pretend like it's not happening, or that I'm not right. I'm worried about you."
"Again, Miss Granger, I heard you. I do not know what you wish me to say. I am fine. If you choose not to accept that answer, should I even bother to utter it?"
"No," Hermione smiled. "You know me better than that, and I know you better than that."
"It has merely been a trying day Miss Granger," she tried, hoping against hope that she would simply accept the answer and carry on with her night.
"Please stop calling me that," Hermione said, getting up now. "It's not just today, as you know."
Minerva sighed again and uncorked the bottle.
"Professor," she paused. "Please don't do that," Hermione whispered from directly behind her.
"I am a grown woman, Hermione, I will do as I like."
"Minerva."
Her name from such lips drew a ragged breath and her hands stilled.
"You know what is going on, you have to. I have not been as inconspicuous as I could have been, at least according to Ginny. You must know."
"Know what? I am hardly in the mood for guessing games."
"That I am in love with you."
The glass she had been holding smashed on the slate tiles as her brain registered the shock of the blatant statement.
She had not noticed. Worse. She'd been completely oblivious.
"I -"
"Surely you knew?" Hermione exclaimed. "The flower - the thistle I left on your desk. Did you not know that was me?"
"I -"
"The tea, the toast, the chocolate biscuits."
"Do you mean to tell me all those bizarre occurrences that have been happening over the last term, have been your doing?"
"Of course," Hermione looked scandalised that she hadn't worked it out. Minerva didn't blame her.
"I -"
"You had no idea."
"I did not," Minerva said finally. "No idea at all."
"Well shit," Hermione almost deflated in front of her. "This is awkward."
If she hadn't been gobsmacked, Minerva would have been indignant. She had no idea what to do now, but again, Miss Granger - Hermione - decided for her. The glass that she had dropped was cleaned up with a wave of Hermione's hand, and Minerva managed an indulgent smile in praise of such a show of wandless magic. It didn't surprise her that Hermione had already got a grasp on the discipline and she was too preoccupied with the show of immense skill to notice Hermione had poured two more drinks.
"There," Hermione muttered, pressing another glass into her hand. "Fine."
Minerva just stared as the woman, because she was that, knocked back a substantial swallow of her whisky. She winced at the strength and looked at the glass like it had all the answers. Minerva could only stare.
"Harry said you'd have no idea. I was so sure. I mean, you spoke to me for two hours the other day and you practically held my hand. I mean I didn't -"
"Stop," Minerva said, putting down the glass and turning to Hermione. "Stop. Tell me once more, plainly, so that I understand what you are saying to me."
"I am in love with you, Minerva. I love and am in love with you and I have been for quite a while."
It didn't quite rob her of her breath, this time, but there was still a rather bizarre twist in Minerva's gut that she couldn't label unpleasant. She ran through the list of reasons why that declaration was preposterous and stumbled over one as she spoke.
"But I am old." It was unconvincing even to her own ears.
"Not so much." Hermione lied blatantly. Minerva shook her head and stared at the floor as those words from total strangers washed over her.
"I am broken," she whispered, her hand going to her chest self-consciously.
"No, you're not," Hermione whispered. She touched Minerva's arm gently, her thumb rubbing up and down but did not attempt to remove Minerva's hand - something the older woman was grateful for. "Not broken. At least, no more than I, if that is the criteria?" Hermione pulled up her sleeve to show Minerva the word scratched into her arm. The bottom dropped from her world as she saw Hermione's scars.
"No!"
"Bellatrix," Hermione mumbled. Minerva held her arm as if it were made of glass as Hermione looked away.
The true price of war suddenly crashed over Minerva and she burst into tears over Hermione's outstretched arm. Her knees went weak and she felt Hermione's hands on her shoulders as they guided her to the sofa. She sobbed into her hands until two strong arms persuaded her to shift and there she lay, ensconced in Hermione's embrace, until she felt worse than she had done, to begin with, but with no more tears left to cry.
The silence dragged on for what seemed like hours until Hermione shifted a little and tightened her arms.
"I love you, Minerva," Hermione whispered. "I'm here."
"This is preposterous," Minerva muttered. She refused to look up, but she also didn't want to move. Hermione's arms, despite her reticence, filled her with comfort and safety.
"No more than anything else we've ever been through. We defeated a dark lord when we were 12. How is this any more preposterous than that?"
"Hermione -"
"Minerva," she said softly. "Tell me, right now, that you don't feel anything for me, and I'll go and we will never speak of this again. But take your time, tell me honestly that you feel nothing and that will be it."
She knew what she wanted to say in those immediate moments but she respected Hermione more than most and so, she paused and did as Hermione asked. She thought about all the moments she'd shared with Hermione since the end of the war. Since she'd built a friendship with her.
Hermione had come back to Hogwarts, to finish out her schooling, but nobody could say she was just a student. She flitted between classrooms, helping the newer staff members with things that she knew better than they - about the castle mostly, although she was nearly always on hand for a demonstration. After a few weeks of pretending she was just another student, Minerva had rolled her eyes and allowed her to step in as a helper in Transfiguration. A sort of unofficial aide. These days, she even took the first years for Minerva when there were meetings to attend and less official things to catch up on; there was none that was as good at Transfiguration as Hermione, after Minerva herself, but still. Did that mean that Minerva had feelings for her? She was a child!
Okay, not a child.
No matter how good they were, Minerva would not leave a child in charge of her class; she was not completely insane. She would not discuss the things she had with a child, she would not have admired Hermione as she did if Hermione was no more than a child. She thought back to those moments in her classroom where she'd meant to be marking essays but instead, she and Hermione had chatted until the Dinner bell and then Minerva had spent the rest of the evening chuckling about things they'd spoken about. She thought of those long hugs Hermione gave her at the end of the day before they separated for the night; the ones where Minerva felt safe enough to breathe out all the tension she carried into the younger woman's shoulder. She thought about that smile that seemed to be reserved for Minerva. The soft one, that shone more out of her eyes than her mouth.
Minerva wanted to say that she had no feelings for the young woman, but Minerva couldn't. For that would be a lie. Hermione seemed to know it too, which made Minerva even more uncomfortable.
"I don't know how to be in love," she whispered. She looked over her shoulder, up into the young woman's face. "I have been in love exactly twice, once to a young muggle boy I knew when I was a child - I had to let him go as I couldn't break the secrecy act. And once," she swallowed. She had no idea where this honesty was coming from, but she could not find the will to stop it. "With Albus."
"Dumbledore?" she said pensively. "Were you two -"
Hermione didn't finish, but Minerva shook her head with a sigh.
"Albus had one great love and never wavered. He gave up on love after losing them."
"So a man?"
"Why would you say that?" Minerva asked just a little bit too quickly. She would protect Albus until her demise.
"I'm not stupid you know," Hermione said, though Minerva could hear the smile in her voice. Her arms squeezed gently around Minerva's body.
"No," Minerva shook her head. "Nobody could ever accuse you of being so."
They fell into silence and Minerva examined her reasonings and groaned again as she snuggled closer. She chose not to speak of it as she continued talking to fill the comfortable silence.
"I was married once."
"Were you really? To whom?" Hermione exclaimed, no doubt shocked at the revelation. So few people knew that it didn't surprise Minerva to know that Hermione had no idea.
"A man named Elphinstone Urquart."
"No way," Hermione chuckled. "I read about him." Minerva chuckled at the predictability. She felt Hermione pause. "You weren't -"
"I loved him," Minerva admitted. She didn't want to look at Hermione again, so she looked down at the hand holding her so gently. She ran her fingers over the back of it and examined the fingers that weilded such power. She sighed. "I'm not sure our union would ever set worlds on fire, but it was comfortable and I was happy. He died," she sighed. "Just after our third wedding anniversary."
"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered. She sounded it too.
"I," Minerva paused. Hermione ran her free hand over her head and kissed her crown. She whispered something Minerva didn't catch, but she felt her hair suddenly let go and she breathed out a small moan.
"Better?"
"Yes," Minerva whispered as strong fingers rubbed her scalp gently. She closed her eyes against the tears that formed at such gentle and beautiful movements and wiped them away quickly when she felt Hermione settle more on her back.
"I don't think I was in love with Albus," Minerva amended eventually. "I loved him, more than anything. More than Elph, even, but in retrospect, I was perhaps not prepared for a relationship with him, had he agreed. I think I wanted the comfort that came with his love. He was as close a soulmate as I think someone can have and not be romantically involved, I suppose."
"And the young man?"
"A muggle," she whispered, her voice full of regret. "I chose to break his heart, rather than follow my parents into a life of secrets and pain and resentment. I did not want to be a farmer's wife but I could not show him our world, not then."
Hermione didn't comment on it and Minerva trusted her enough to know that she wouldn't. She sighed again and closed her eyes again.
"Why did you choose today?"
"Hmm?" Hermione asked.
Minerva took a deep breath and rolled over, letting Hermione gather her hair so it didn't get caught. She didn't look up at the younger woman, but she did settle against her shoulder and take a deep breath. Hermione's lips caressed Minerva's forehead and she the small feeling of something in the bottom of her stomach flared.
"Why today?" she said, clearing her throat.
"I do not know," Hermione chuckled. Her fingers were pressing gently on her scalp again and Minerva bit back a moan. "I know you have the weekend off, such as it is, so I figured if there was ever a day to be brave it would be today. Why?"
"I have had a truly terrible day. My classes were unruly, my meetings ran long. I have barely had a moment's peace to myself and then," she swallowed. "On the way back, I caught someone speaking about me where they thought I could not hear."
Hermione sighed and her lips rested on Minerva's skin, warming it with her breath.
"What did they say?"
"They were discussing my position and how much longer I would be in it. That surely I should retire soon."
"Min," Hermione groaned. "That is total bollocks and you know it. This is the culmination of your life's work. This is everything you've ever wanted. I've never seen you happier than when you took to that lectern at the beginning of the year." Her thoughts laid bare by Hermione's voice washing over her softly made Minerva sob into Hermione's shoulder. "Hey," Hermione soothed. "It's alright. This is your masterpiece, Minerva McGonagall, and you've barely made a brushstroke yet." Minerva felt another kiss on her forehead. "It's going to be amazing. I cannot wait to see everything you achieve. You are just as brilliant as Albus with so much more focus," Minerva laughed even as she cried. "And there are no Dark Lords in sight. It's going to be magnificent."
"You," Minerva sobbed again and covered her mouth, burying her head into Hermione's chest without thought. "Those were my thoughts after taking the position. I was so naively hopeful, but with time comes clarity. I admit that those whispered thoughts have started to echo my own, but you say them with such belief I can't help but hope."
"There is always hope," Hermione said. Minerva looked up and met the woman's eyes, taking comfort in her smile and the soft hand on her cheek wiping away her tears. "Always."
"Hermione -"
"I love you," she said easily. "And it's okay, whatever you choose, but my feelings are what they are and I would like you to try and believe me. If you can't believe yourself right now, Min? Believe me, instead. You know that no matter what happens, I would never lie to you." Her thumb was rubbing along Minerva's chin softly and she leaned into Hermione's hand. "Be brave with me, Min."
"I am not brave," Minerva mumbled. "I am not -"
"You're the bravest woman I know," Hermione argued. "I try to live my life as you have taught me - forthright and demanding but fair and kind. And so brave in so many aspects of life."
"Hermione I-"
She had no idea what to say but once again, Hermione came to her rescue.
"Will you trust me, at least, when I tell you that I have fallen in love with you? That of all the people in this world, Min, it is you that has stolen my heart?"
Minerva considered those words and sighed. Again. She pressed her nose into Hermione's neck and nodded.
"I trust you, Hermione. I do."
"So," she said softly. "Knowing that I love you, and that you are brave and that you are worthy," Minerva's chin wobbled. "What do you think?" Hermione asked. "Wanna go out with me, Minerva?"
"Hermione -"
"Let me take you on one date. Tonight, right now. Let me show you how brilliant this is going to be."
"Tonight! You are a ward of the school," Minerva tried, but she saw that she'd already lost that battle when Hermione produced a piece of paper that showed her emancipation and more shockingly, her completed N.E.W.T.S certificate.
"When did you do this?"
"After my party," she blushed. They had already celebrated her 18th birthday some months prior. "That week. You looked so beautiful that I knew I wanted to be prepared in case I ever got the chance or the courage to ask." She smiled and a pretty blush formed on her cheeks. "I got Os in everything."
"Oh Hermione," Minerva closed her eyes against the tears. "You should have said. We should have celebrated that. Why didn't I get a letter?"
"I told them I'd prefer to tell you myself. I'm a war hero, you know."
Minerva shook her head and stared at that document. She had no more excuses left to give.
"Hermione," she whispered. "Congratulations."
"Thanks," she chuckled. They fell into silence for a while longer but Minerva could not escape the question that was left hanging in the air. "I'm not forcing you," Hermione said, beating her to it. She shivered as the younger woman cupped her chin and their eyes met again. "I'm not. I want you to want this. Or I want you to tell me honestly that you don't."
Minerva dropped her head back to Hermione's shoulder and felt the younger woman's arms tighten around her as she considered it.
"Alright," she said, wincing as her voice caught in her throat. "Alright," she said again as she looked up at Hermione. "You may take me out. But it is not -" she said quickly before Hermione spoke. "A means to an end. I'm not agreeing to anything. I'm just -"
"I know," Hermione grinned. "But, I promise you won't regret it."
Minerva wasn't sure whether to believe that or not and she got up, hugging her middle as it all seemed to rest on her shoulders.
"Hey," Hermione smiled as she rubbed Minerva's arms up and down. "Relax."
"You have turned my world asunder," Minerva said quietly. "I am not sure I can relax any more than I am."
"Not much, then," Hermione laughed.
"Do not think I have finished discussing your N.E.W.T.s either," she said, imperiously. "We will celebrate that, in time."
"To be honest," Hermione started hopefully, letting Minerva choose whether she wanted her to continue. Minerva nodded, so she did. "I didn't want to leave. I didn't tell you because I don't want to leave Hogwarts until everyone does. But I wanted to make sure that if this situation arose, we could maybe see what happens without all that in front of us."
"Well," Minerva muttered. "So be it."
"You're angry with me?"
"No," Minerva groaned, sitting on the arm of her chair. "I'm -" She groaned. "I do not know what I am."
"Well, let me take you out and we'll see what happens then, alright? Either it will help, or it'll go horribly and we can get on with other things. Okay?"
"Yes," Minerva nodded. "Okay."
"Good," she smiled. She had a pretty smile, Minerva noticed. "Dress muggle. Low-key, not particularly fancy. Whatever you're comfortable in, okay?"
"Where are we going?"
"I thought we'd do dinner and a show?"
"A show? That isn't fancy?"
"I happened to get tickets to that musical you were talking about. And no," she grinned. "This one isn't."
Minerva frowned and thought back over their conversations. She vaguely remembered discussing a musical back at the beginning of term, but surely that's not what -
"That was - Hermione?"
"Yeah," Hermione blushed. "I remembered. And then, all the pieces fell into place and honestly, it would be remiss of me not to invite you. If you want to go, I have the tickets but if you were just being polite or whatever -"
"No," Minerva almost squeaked. "No, I wasn't. I -" She took a deep breath. "I would love to go. But not fancy, you say?"
"Good, and no," Hermione grinned. "Get dressed. I'll meet you back here in a while, okay? I think we'll aim to leave by 6? Show first, then dinner?"
"Okay," Minerva whispered, watching as Hermione - a very different Hermione than Minerva had ever noticed - left the room with a rakish grin. She stood staring at the door.
Someone cleared their throat.
She turned to find Albus, awake and watching carefully.
"Albus," she breathed.
"You deserve to be happy, dear heart," he said. "Embrace this moment with both hands."
She touched his frame reverently and smiled as their eyes met. No painter could ever capture the colour of his eyes correctly, but it was a passable attempt.
"I miss you."
"I would have told you to hurry up and get dressed so that this wonderful young woman can take you out and have some fun."
"And I would have argued with you."
"And we both know I would have won in the end," he chuckled. "At the very least, you admire and appreciate her. Let her spoil you a little. You may just find yourself enjoying it."
Minerva kissed her fingers and touched his frame again and then went to change as she had been asked.
