@~~}~~

Days passed and baby Athena grew stronger and stronger under the loving care of her mother, the constant supervision of her godmother, and the expertise of her very own house elf (and how many babies can say they have their very own??). Minerva had finally found the courage to tell one other person about Athena, and ever since then it was a norm to return from her teachings to find her daughter playing with yet another new toy, compliments from her auntie Mallena.

As for anybody else, Minerva almost did tell Albus, but then an image of him looking at her sad and disappointed would make her change her mind again. And she knew very well, that although Hogwarts would be the safest/best place to hide a dangerous stone, or a three-headed dog, or even a chamber of secret, it would not be the safest place to keep a secret. With that in mind, she had already planned to send Athena to live Mallena when she was old enough to be apart from her mother. Minerva didn't like this decision, it hurt her to think that she would be away from her baby, but if she didn't, then... 'he' may find out. Although she didn't like to admit it, Athena had inherited her father's looks. It hadn't taken her sister long to figure out who the father was. Minerva couldn't risk it. She sighed as she looked at her baby.

"At least, there's some of me in her," she said softly to herself, absent-mindedly playing with the girl's hair, which was much thicker now. Where Athena had inherited her father's eyes and his tall frame, (she was lanky for a baby her age), and his wary curiosity, she had her mother's nose, her mother's blue black hair and even her way of looking displeased at anything out of the norm. Athena looked back at her mother, reaching out to grab hold of her finger and put in her mouth. Then she smiled widely and began cooing loudly, reaching her small little hands up to her mother. Minerva laughed.

"You know its time for our walk, don't you, mummy's clever little angel," she said, and picked up her daughter. Poppy had warned her endlessly that it wasn't healthy for a baby to be cooped up in a room, so since she couldn't take baby Athena out during the day, she made up for it by long moonlight night walks.   After making sure Athena was warm and snug, Minerva draped a black hooded robe around her and quietly made her way through the school corridors and into the night.

@~~}~~

Harry couldn't sleep. It wasn't his nightmares, that had stopped and it wasn't indigestions. Usually, he would be so tired after quidditch practice but that wasn't the case tonight. His mind was too preoccupied with something that had been nagging at the back of his mind for quite a while. And he just couldn't understand it. It wasn't like him to be so nosy of other people's affair, unless it involved him, but he had to know what was wrong with McGonagall. He still couldn't get the image of her green face running out of class... and didn't return. That was so... unlike her. She's hiding something and somehow he knew she was being eaten alive by it. At first, he thought it was only him, but today Ron had voiced out the same question, and Ron was not the master of acuity. Harry sighed. He could hear Neville's soft snoring and it was either Dean or Seamus, tossing and turning in his bed. Ron was unusually quiet. Harry sat up. He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. At least not anytime soon. Slowly, he got out of bed and trying not to step on the creaking wood too often, he tiptoed out, and down the stairs to the common room.

Surprisingly, the fire was still burning indicating that there was someone still in the common room.

"Hello?" he said tentatively and he could hear a sudden movement from one of the couch. Moving towards it, he broke into a huge grin.

"And what are you two doing down here so late?" he asked. Ron, who had turned redder than red began muttering something and Hermione, her hair so obviously ruffled, started to stammer.

"Well... we were... you see..." she began. Harry's grin grew larger. Ron looked up at him.

"What are you doing here so late?" Ron threw back Harry's question to him.

"I couldn't sleep," he answered.

"Well we couldn't also," Hermione said immediately. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, you two," he answered. She decided to change the subject.

"So where were you headed?" she asked, looking pointedly at his coat.

"I thought I'd go for a walk, wanna join?" he answered.

"Yeah, okay," both his friends, answered simultaneously.

So half an hour later, after evading Filch and his meddling cat the three friends were strolling around the Hogwarts grounds (which was still illegal, BTW), enjoying the cool but not cold night air, talking and laughing softly.

"So Harry, you still curious?" asked Ron. Harry looked startled, he had just been thinking about it.

"Dammit, Weasley, I hate it when you read my thoughts," he huffed, but in a friendly way. Ron just gave him a smug look.

"Curious about what?" asked Hermione.

"Harry thinks McGonagall has wicked secret," answered Ron still grinning. Harry glared at him.

"Well, yeah, she is acting a tad weird don't you think?" he said quickly, looking at Hermione.

"I know what you mean, she's not glowing anymore, but she's definitely changed," said Hermione. Ron nodded.

"I swear she was daydreaming in class the other day, when she gave us all those bloody notes to copy," said Ron, glad that he had something to contribute. Harry and Hermione had surprised looks.

"Daydreaming? McGonagall?" said Hermione. That was so not a McGonagall thing to do.

"Now I know she's keeping a secret," said Harry.

"Maybe she's got a ... secret life, that we don't know about," suggested Ron.

"But what?" asked Harry. Hermione brightened.

"Maybe she's having a torrid love affair with someone at Hogsmeade, that would explain why she's sometimes tired," said Hermione.

"But she's too old," disagreed Ron. Hermione hit him on the arm.

"She's not that old, and besides love doesn't discriminate," she rebuffed. 

"We could spend the whole night guessing, but it won't help us one bit," sighed Harry. The other two nodded. Quietly, they rounded the corner to return back to the school entrance. They weren't the only one. As they stepped onto the wooden bridge, so did somebody else.

It was Professor McGonagall.