Note: So after looking for a change from my usual pairings and inhaling too many wonderful MM/HG fics to mention, I was inspired to throw my hand in and try writing my own. I currently have 13 chapters written, so updates should happen quickly. I just hope I've produced something worth reading for the fandom. As always, constructive criticism and reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimers: The usual applies; I don't make $ from these characters, nor do I own them.

My House: Gryffindor

My wand: 10 3/4" Elm with a Unicorn Hair core with brittle flexibility.

My Patronus: Tortoiseshell Cat

~x~

Minerva McGonagall glanced around as she stepped into a dusty room having Flooed into an old farmhouse belonging to the ministry, three miles northeast of Manchester. Removing the soot off the jeans and thick raincoat she wore, she sensed the presence of the Boggart that gave the area its name.

Moving from the room, her Animagus senses detected the low scaping of wood from the magical creature. Waiting a moment, she stepped from the living room and cast her eyes around. She wasn't overly surprised when a cupboard door in the hallway behind her opened.

Spinning on her heel, she was greeted by the sight of the floor littered with ex-students, all dead. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, pulled her wand free and offered up the charm that would make the image disappear. "Riddikulus." With a crack, the image changed to a teddy bear's picnic and she laughed a little, and with a slight wave of her wand caused the Boggart to fly back into its cupboard.

She left the farmhouse quickly, casting a silent Impervius charm over herself to repel the fine drizzle that was falling, and sliding her wand away, made her way through the ancient woodland to find the path needed to take her down to the busy main road that was home to the Muggles she was visiting that day. She stepped out of the thick foliage and onto a cobbled path beside a deep ravine, watching her step as the cobbles were wet underneath her booted feet.

As the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the reason for her visit to the dreary North West of England wasn't necessarily part of her job description, but it was one she still enjoyed after her days as a regular professor and then as the Deputy Head. The fact was, she adored attending to the pastoral duties and having the opportunity to meet some of the Muggle-born students, who received their initial introduction letters for Hogwarts shortly after their eleventh birthday, giving them time to prepare before the school year began on September 1st. It also gave her the chance to validate the claims that the child in question had a magical nature and the fact was, no Muggle parent in their right mind would just put their child on a train and trust that they'd be okay for nine months of the year.

She meandered slowly out of the park and as the traffic bowled past her while she waited to cross the busy main road, she let her thoughts roam to the past, something she rarely permitted, and recalled a particular Muggle-born that had wormed her way into her heart so deeply, she still felt the aching loss of her acutely, 12 years after her sudden disappearance.

Minerva easily remembered the bright, wonderfully loyal and caring bushy-haired witch she'd met in 1991, the one whose parents had been, to quote them, "a bit bemused" by the accidental magic their child had displayed over the years before her visit, but who had seemingly been quite accepting of their child's differences. She hadn't even needed to prove the point by turning into her Animagus form before they looked at each other and eagerly accepted the offer for their daughter to attend Hogwarts and to head into magical London with her that same afternoon.

Upon her arrival at school, the young witch had immediately stood out from her peers by her sheer intelligence alone, having taken the time to study before the term started. Surprisingly, after a reasonable deliberation by the Sorting Hat, she'd been placed into her own house, Gryffindor, where she'd been able to keep a close eye on her over her years, observing as she rose admirably to every challenge she faced, mentoring her to an extent, and ultimately witnessing her evolution as she grew into the most beautiful woman she'd ever encountered.

She'd realised they were soulmates after the younger woman came of age and she was initially unwilling to accept it, but because the younger witch had not returned to school for a year during the war, she had ample time to evaluate her feelings and came to the slow realisation that she'd fallen in love with her, despite their difference in age, status and the fact they'd spent seven years in a purely platonic teacher-student mentorship.

It was during the eighth year, upon the clever witch's return, that after a particularly tense argument about the younger witch stretching herself too thin, their feelings for each other had been made known, causing them to collide spectacularly in a tangle of arms and hot kisses, but it wasn't until after her graduation in 1999, that they'd shared a single, magical night before the young woman disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving a folded note of parchment on top of her desk, holding a single line of text.

I'll see you tonight, love. x

Finally arriving at a shabby mid-terraced house, Minerva contemplated the peeling red-painted door and broken doorbell before rapping her knuckles against the wood. The door eventually opened slightly, and Minerva looked down into the bright hazel eyes of a small, thin little girl. "Hello, are you Isobel Wilkins?" At the girl's shy nod, she smiled softly. "I am Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, I sent a letter earlier this year asking your parents to meet with me about the possibility of you attending my school. Since I didn't receive a response, I was wondering if I may speak to your mum and dad about that today?"

"I don't have a dad an' my mam's at work, but she should be home any time now." The girl opened the door a little wider and shivered slightly when a gust of wind whipped through the space between them and the rain grew heavier. "You wanna brew?"

Minerva gazed at the girl, she seemed so familiar and yet she knew for certain she hadn't met her before. It was rather disconcerting. Her long curly auburn hair was plaited, keeping it away from her face. "I would love a cup of tea, Isobel. Thank you"

"Come on in. Close the door behind you." Isobel moved away from the door and Minerva entered the darkened hallway. Doing as the child asked, she closed the door firmly behind her and gazing around, her wariness grew. Pulling her wand out from between the folds of her jacket, she whispered a low "Lumos" before stalking forward into a surprisingly bright kitchen and coming to a standstill. She watched the young girl move around easily to fill the kettle and prepare tea for them. "I'd have put the big light on in the hall, but don't need mam going on about it being like Blackpool Illuminations in here. You can turn your glow stick off now though."

Casting a silent charm, the light at her wand tip disappeared. "That is not a glow stick, Isobel." Minerva smiled softly. "It's my wand. It's 9-and-a-half-inches of fir wood, with a dragon heartstring core."

Isobel shrugged indifferently as if she hadn't just explained something strange and unusual. She poured hot water into two mugs. "Do you have sugar and milk, Miss McGonagall?"

"Just a splash of milk, no sugar, thank you," Minerva responded, glancing around and seeing the books piled high on the table. "You can call me Professor or Headmistress. Whichever you prefer. May I sit?"

"Yeah, if you want." Isobel moved close and put a mug on the table in front of an empty chair before sitting down opposite letting her hand fall beside the stack of books. "Mam cried when she received your letter. When I asked why she told me I was too young to understand." She sighed. "Professor, I take it this so-called school—"

"Hogwarts." Minerva reminded, sitting down and placing her wand gently on the table in front of her.

"—isn't some kind of mental institution?" Isobel asked.

Sighing, Minerva picked up her mug of tea and sipped from it daintily. "No, it's not." Her lips pursed. "Why would you be locked away in an institution?"

"Strange things happen sometimes when I'm angry or upset and—" Isobel exhaled a shuddering breath. "—even when I'm happy. And 'though mam says it's perfectly normal, I can't see how it can be. The kids at school say I'm mental."

"My mother, who was also named Isobel by the way, told me that when I was still a baby in my crib, I summoned my toys off a high shelf at the opposite side of the room, then as I got older, I made my father's bagpipes play themselves and had the family cat do my bidding." Her lips twitched in the hint of a smile when Isobel laughed. "What you have done is magic, Isobel, and what my school will do is allow you to control it, whilst you also learn more."

"Where is this school?" The scepticism in Isobel's eyes spoke volumes and a delicate eyebrow rose, waiting for her to speak further.

"I would prefer to wait for your mum before answering your questions." Minerva swallowed a mouthful of tea and sighed deeply. "But I suppose it won't hurt to tell you some things. The school is north of Glasgow, in the Western Highlands of Scotland." She decided that the knowledge the school was hidden and unplottable wasn't at all important at that moment since Isobel would soon learn this. It was fairly well-documented after all.

Leaning forward, she placed a hand on top of the young girl's and she caught the sound of her small gasp. A sense of warmth emitted from the gentle contact that she brushed off, it wasn't the first time she'd felt a child's magic. "You must realise, you aren't the first child to show disbelief that there's a School for Magic. Many witches and wizards born to non-magical parents have no clue until this point in their lives when they meet me or one of the other Professors. The letter sent to your mum, was simply an introduction—" she pulled an envelope from her pocket and slid it across the table "—but this one is for you. It's your formal invitation to attend Hogwarts with a list of the items you'll need, should you accept. There are a few extra items included, such as a pet which could make your time at school a little more comfortable and stop you from feeling homesick." She sighed. "We also take this time, with the agreement of your parents, to assist in setting you up with an account at Gringotts Wizarding Bank and getting your school supplies."

Before the girl could speak, the front door opened and a gust of wind roared down the dark hallway before it was slammed closed. Quick footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor and as the door inched open, she heard a familiar voice, causing her to spin around in her seat. "Pop the kettle on, Izzy, I'm soaked to the skin." The woman looked up, her jaw-dropping when she met Minerva's searching gaze. Her eyes closed briefly and her mouth moved as if counting to ten before they blazed open once more.

Minerva was stunned by the sight of the once familiar light brown eyes peeking through long, dark, rain-drenched curls. Even after 12 years apart, those eyes still captivated her. She stood and in three long strides stood in front of the woman, her wand suddenly in hand and pointing under the woman's chin.

"Minerva—" The younger woman swallowed deeply before biting her lip. "—Izzy, forget the tea. Go up to your room, please."

"But, mam—" Isobel tried to say.

"Isobel Lenna, you will do as you're told." Hermione thundered, her voice reverberating around the kitchen. When the child squeaked her agreement and squeezed behind her, running down the hall and clattering up the stairs.

Minerva took a small step forward, her wand pressing harder under Hermione's chin as her jaw clenched and she fought against the swirling anger and hurt she felt. "What were the last words you wrote tae me?" She demanded, gazing down at the woman, unable to fully accept who she was seeing after so long.

"I wrote I'll see you tonight, love," Hermione admitted hoarsely, just loud enough for Minerva to catch with her enhanced Animagus hearing. Hermione took a step back against the door and closed her eyes before casting a silent spell, causing Minerva to stumble back a few steps while her wand flew from her grip to land in the outstretched hand of the younger witch.

A shaking hand pointed the wand at the Headmistress. she held her hands out placatingly, knowing just how adept the brunette once was with charms and hexes. "Hermione, lass, I—"

"No, you don't get to speak." Hermione interrupted. "Unlike my parents, I didn't respond to the letter." The words were spoken harshly between gritted teeth. "You weren't meant to come here."

"But you—" Minerva lowered her hands and exhaled a shaky breath. "—please. I didn't come to cause harm, lass. I came, as I always do, to ensure that every magical child has the best chance to be who they're meant to be. That Isobel has the chance to be the best witch she can be."

The arm holding the wand dropped and Hermione's shoulders sagged. "You know, as much as I can't believe you're here right now, I also can't believe you pulled your wand out on me." She whispered hoarsely.

"Even now, I use constant vigilance." Her Scottish brogue thickened as her emotions took over. "I—I cannae believe, after all this time—" Minerva continued to gaze at her, still not quite believing her eyes. "—seein' you again—"

"You need to go, Minerva." Hermione held her wand out to her.

Minerva took it and slid it into its holster. "Dinna send me away, lass." Tears began to cascade unchecked down her cheeks as her emotions got the better of her. "Can you at least tell me why you went away?"

Hermione shook her head and turned her face away. "I—I can't." She shifted slightly. "Please, just leave, Minerva."

Minerva sniffed and rubbed her palms over her face roughly, fighting to regain control of her swirling emotions. "I never thought you a coward, Ms Wilkins." The emphasis on her assumed name had Hermione's head snapping towards her and her eyes blazing with fury. "Perhaps the Sorting Hat was wrong to put you in my house. Gryffindor values courage, bravery, nerve, and chivalry above all else. None of which I'm seeing in you." She moved past the brunette, brushing her aside, and stepped back into the dimly lit hallway.

Just before reaching the door, Minerva turned back to eye the woman who had followed. "We searched for you, Potter and I. We even made our way to Australia. How surprised we were to find your parents, living in Perth, their memories intact once more. And yet, upon speaking to them, we found them unforgiving of their only child's altruistic actions, committed solely to keep them alive and safe from harm." She shook her head and chuckled darkly. "I should have recognised the name you've chosen for yourself, although it is not at all uncommon. It's the one they were using."

"Minerva—" Hermione tried.

"We assumed you had been captured and killed by a rogue Death Eater. After losing all hope of finding you, we held a memorial service." She shook her head, and summoned her inner Headmistress, pulling her professional mask back into place. "Thank you for your time today, Ms Wilkins. I'm sorry that we were unable to come to a consensus over Isobel's education. Good day to you." She bowed her head and spinning on her heel, she opened the door and swept away, without a backward glance.

~x~

After returning to the park, ignoring the heavy downpour as it pelted her, Minerva disapparated from the secluded woodland, her mind focused on her home on the banks of a small unnamed freshwater loch in Caithness. She swept past the wards and through an old stone wall with wrought iron gates leading to the Manse she'd called home since childhood.

Moving through her home, she left a trail of soggy footprints in her wake and made her way to the master suite she'd taken after the death of her parents in the first war against Voldemort.

Stripping down to her skin, she flicked her wand to dry herself and bind her hair into a loose braid before dropping it onto the bed and moving towards the wardrobe to select dry underwear, a pair of jeans and a thick knitted sweater to wear. Dressing quickly, Minerva slipped her feet into her favourite slippers, grabbed her wand and marched out of the room and back down the stairs, striding across the entrance hall into the cosy sitting room. In the corner of the room sat a small side table, holding the finest whisky her family wealth could buy.

Making her way to the corner, she glanced at her options and foregoing her usual Firewhisky or Campbell's Finest Old, she slipped her wand into her jeans pocket and grabbed the decanter of Dragon Barrel Brandy. Pouring a large measure into a waiting glass, she knocked it back with a wince.

She was furious. The fact was, despite having seen Hermione after so many years, the day had been a colossal waste of time. She had no answers to the brunette's disappearance, and due to her mother's unwillingness for her to join the magical world, Isobel would be denied a magical education.

It was infuriating.

"Isn't it a wee early to be drinking, nighean?" The familiar voice of her màthair cut through the room. "And what have I told you about placing your wand in your pocket against your buttocks?"

Minerva turned to glance at the large portrait on the wall over the fireplace but refused to meet the older witch's eyes. She sighed wearily, letting go of her anger. "You're right, màthair, it's just—" She stalled, not knowing what to say.

"Talk to me, tell me what troubles you, nighean?" Her mother asked softly. "I've not seen you like this since your return from Australia with Harry."

"I've finally found her, màthair, but she wants nought to do with me or this world and she won't say why," Minerva admitted.

"Who? Don't tell me you mean Hermione?" The portrait queried, disbelief edging into her voice. "You found your mate?"

"Aye. She has a daughter." Minerva sighed. "Such a delicate wee thing, and so pretty with long, curly auburn hair and hazel eyes. Hermione named her Isobel." She admitted, finally looking up to see her mother's soft smile. "What?" She turned back to the table holding the decanter and poured herself another brandy before sipping it slowly.

"Isobel? Named for her seanmhair, perhaps?" Isobel McGonagall queried.

Minerva choked as she swallowed the burning liquor and sputtered loudly as she tried to gather her faculties. Finally ridding herself of the lump in her throat and coughing slightly, she glared at the portrait. "Be serious, màthair?"

"Grá mo chroí [Love of my Heart, I have never been more serious." Isobel insisted. "Effie, would you please fetch my photo album."

"How–?" Before she could finish the question, the album appeared on the low coffee table in front of the wide, comfortable couch.

"My parents may have disowned me for marrying your father, but my brother set aside various items for me before he passed," Isobel stated softly. "Since he had no children, you are now the heir to House Ross, nighean, although you have yet to claim the title."

"What's the point with no heir?" Minerva scoffed as she pulled her wand out of her back pocket and sat down. Settling the empty glass and her wand on the table, she began flicking through the album, marvelling at the colourful photos, created from the memories of her seann-phàrantan, of the small girl she easily recognised as her màthair. A child that was eerily similar to the one she had met earlier that day.

"You inherited so much of your father, including his thick, ebony hair and emerald eyes and you also have his strength and his stubborn streak. Despite that, any child you create could have inherited certain traits from the Ross line." Isobel told her. "There have been varying shades of red throughout the years and auburn has always been prevalent. My seanmhair, Minerva, your namesake, had a fine head of auburn curls in her youth."

Minerva knew the likeness to her athair, Robert McGonagall Snr hadn't been enough for him to accept her wholeheartedly. They'd been close but because her mother had kept her magic a secret from him for years, letting him believe what the other Muggles in their small village did, that she'd spent her school years attending an exclusive boarding school in England, once he found out his wife and eldest child were witches the trust was broken. He'd been shocked and hurt by the secrecy, and despite loving them, he'd been overwhelmed with the reality of the situation for many years before coming to accept it.

"Now, as you can see, I, rather like my namesake, had auburn hair as a small child, although it darkened inexplicably over time to the deep mahogany you'd likely remember. And like I named you in honour of my seanmhair, it's possible that your Hermione, did something similar."

Slamming the album down and picking up her wand, Minerva caught her mother's eyes. "I have to go, màthair, but I'll be back later."

"Where on Earth are you going? There's a storm brewing." Isobel called out after her as she strode from the room.

"Manchester," Minerva yelled, summoning her coat and Transfiguring her slippers into sturdy boots before slamming her way out of the Manse in her hurry.

~x~

She sat in her Animagus form on the high wall encircling the back of the house she'd visited a few hours before. She could easily see Hermione at the small dining table, her back to the window, but there was no sign of the young girl she'd met. Unable to resist, the silver-grey striped tabby crawled on her belly across the wall, silently moving closer to the house, hoping her enhanced hearing would allow her to discern something other than silence.

Keeping to the shadows, Minerva leapt to the windowsill and peered inside the kitchen. There were signs the occupants had sat down to an early dinner, although the fact both plates sat untouched on the table, showed it hadn't truly been wanted.

She heard Hermione sigh and the chair scraped heavily against the linoleum as she stood and moved out of the kitchen, lights flicking on as she made her way deeper into the house.

Knowing it was unlikely she would gain anything further from staying and watching the house, Minerva turned and jumped from the windowsill, landing comfortably on four paws and running towards the back wall. Just as she considered vaulting over the tall wall, a cry tore through the dark house and lights flicked on. Skidding to a halt, she only just stopped herself from careening into the brick wall in front of her.

"Damn it, Izzy!" Hermione yelled, rushing back into the kitchen and grabbing her coat and a familiar beaded bag before running back towards the front door.

Minerva bounded over the wall easily and ran as fast as she could around the back of the houses towards the road. Just as she skidded around the corner, she transformed into her true self, only to be bowled over immediately.

She landed on her backside, her hands curling around soft womanly curves. Looking up in surprise, she met familiar eyes, burning with worry and anger. "Hermione, I heard you shout. What on Earth has happened?" She asked.

Hermione jumped back as if she'd been scorched and staggered to her feet, then took off in the opposite direction without answering.

Minerva eased herself upright and marched after the woman, her long legs carrying her with ease until she was keeping pace at her side. "For Merlin's sake, will you tell me what's happened?" She demanded. "I am not leaving until I have an explanation."

"She nicked my credit card and left," Hermione growled. "To find Hogwarts and her—" She swallowed the word down and stepped slightly ahead before spinning around to face her. "This is your damn fault, Minerva McGonagall." She prodded Minerva in the chest, causing her to step back. "She knew you were something to her the moment you touched her hand and she felt your magic. She questioned it, and what the hell could I tell her? It's not like I could lie."

"Who am I to that child that she could sense it from my magic through such a brief touch?" Minerva demanded forcefully. "Tell me that, Hermione."

"Her other mother." The fight went out of Hermione and her shoulders slumped in defeat. "You weren't meant to find out, especially not like this."

Minerva was stunned by the admission. She had thought it would take time and some coaxing to get answers from the other witch. The fact was, the response she'd received, despite her màthair's words, had shaken the very foundation of her world.

She had a daughter. The heir she never considered she'd have after so many years spent alone. "I—Merlin, I dinna ken what tae say." She admitted thickly.

"I need to find her, Minerva. To explain," Hermione stated quietly, turning back towards the house. "Will you help me, please?" The plea was whispered hesitantly as she rubbed her forearm where Minerva knew she had been branded by Bellatrix Lestrange after being captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor during the second war against Voldemort.

Minerva understood how difficult Hermione found it to ask for help. Even as a young witch, she'd been truly self-reliant, focused upon educating herself beyond her age group to surpass every other witch or wizard of her age. She'd stood proudly beside her friends through thick and thin, and her loyalty towards them knew no bounds. Without her, it was likely that the war against Voldemort would have been lost and those that fought against him and survived would have met with dire consequences.

Hermione had admitted to her, during the final year she'd spent at Hogwarts, where they'd taken the time to heal and had grown closer, putting aside their former teacher-pupil relationship, that she felt she had a lot to prove, not only to herself but to those that believed Muggle-born witches and wizards were a stain on the magical world. She needed her magic to be the one thing she had that no one could take away from her.

She'd spent her final year, not only studying for ten NEWTs, but also her Level 1 Transfiguration and Charms Masteries, and her Outstanding results had been a true testament to her desire to be the best she could be. And yet here she was, living life as a Muggle in a world where she'd never truly fitted in. She lived outside of the magical world, that she'd once wholeheartedly claimed as her own.

"You're a witch, Hermione, and were awarded an Order of Merlin First Class. Surely, you can do this for Isobel?" Minerva queried as Hermione unlocked the front door.

"I don't have a wand and don't trust in my ability to perform magic or control it wandlessly outside of simple defensive spells," Hermione admitted, bowing her head. "So, will you help me to get our daughter back, Minerva?" She asked once again.

Minerva was saddened by what she'd been told so far. "Aye, lass. I will." She agreed. "But once we have her with us, I want you to promise me one thing."

"Anything." Hermione breathed, her relief evident.

Minerva set out her only condition. "You'll sit down with me and explain, honestly I might add, what happened, why you disappeared off the face of the Earth for 12 years and more importantly, why you didn't tell me about Isobel. Even if she wasn't mine, after everything that fell between us, I had a right to know she existed."

Hermione hesitated for a moment. "Fine." She agreed with a sigh.

"Good. Now, there are a few spells that may help, but I'll likely need something belonging to Isobel for this to work properly," Minerva advised. "First things first, I'll send a Patronus to the Improper Use of Magic Office to tell them that I'm still in the area." She took out her wand and a silver cat burst from it and ran forward in a silvery light before disappearing into the gloomy evening.

"I didn't think the Ministry monitored children's magic before they started their formal education?" Hermione questioned softly. "I mean, I attempted some simple spells at home after your initial visit to tell me about my abilities and our trip to Diagon Alley."

"I would rather be cautious since Isobel is the only known magical person living in the local area. The last wizarding family in this area lived in the Clough and were lost in the war with Grindelwald. I'd hate for her to be blamed for the magic I'm performing," Minerva stated with a sniff. "However, you are correct, generally speaking, young children below school age, or children who do not have a wand, are mostly exempt from the usual rules since accidental magic can occur and the Trace will not trigger when in a Muggle-free site, like Diagon Alley, the Hogwarts Express or Hogsmeade."

"Oh, well that explains a lot." Hermione sighed. "Give me a minute and I'll grab something of Izzy's."

Minerva leaned against the wall, her eyes tracking the slow movements of Hermione's footsteps as she pulled herself up the steep stairs.

~x~