Disclaimer: Once again, I own nothing dealing with Harry Potter and all
that stuff but the plot is, indeed, mine.
A/N: Sorry it's been a while. I needed time to myself to think things out. Thanks for my reviewers.
Hermione came out of the diary, more surprised than anything else. A million questions rushed through her mind and she wasn't sure which one to try and solve first. She was so in thought, that she completely ignored the small group that was looking at her, nor did she notice that they were no longer in the hospital.
"So?" asked Ginny impatiently after a few moments of silence. This cause Hermione to jump a little and look at the group around her.
"Where are we?" she asked absentmindedly.
"We're here at Gibble Park," said Harry, frowning.
"What happened in the diary?" asked Draco. Hermione could see that his foot was now wound in some bandages and he now had two crutches. Apparently, the doctor had suggested the old muggle fashion to healing.
"I thought you weren't interested in what was happening," smirked Seamus.
"Oh, honestly, Finnegan, you can't really be that thick, can you?" asked Draco, irritated. "You're worse than Crabbe or Goyle ever were. Of coarse I'm interested."
"So, what happened?" pressed Neville. Hermione looked around.
"Where's Francesca?" she inquired.
"She's over there, playing," said Harry, pointing to the swings on the park. Then, Hermione looked around the park, only to find that they were the only people there.
"Okay, here's what happened," she said. She told them the whole story. She told them how McGonagall had gone to Dumbledores office, how practically begged her to forgive him (but in his own Dumbledore sort of way) for what he had done to her, and then how she turned him down flat.
"Oh, poor McGonagall," sighed Ginny as soon as Hermione had finished. "She's such a strict person. Dumbledore should have known that she would never have forgiven him for doing such a thing as leave her at the alter."
"Poor McGonagall? What about poor Dumbledore?" asked Seamus. "He said he was sorry, and that he just wanted the best for her, and that is why she was so mad at him?"
"Now now, you two, don't start fussing," said Hermione. "You both make valid points, but you shouldn't be fighting about it."
"Not fighting, discussing," said Seamus.
"So, what do we do now?" asked Hermione. It seemed that she was asking that question a lot lately, but she really had no clue as to what to do next.
"We should keep reading," said Neville.
"I don't know, you guys, I feel really horrible prying like this into- ," Hermione started. But as she was flipping through the pages of the diary, a small, brown note fell out of it. Hermione looked down at it, picked it up, and instantly noticed the handwriting to be Dumbledores.
"Is it from who I think it's from?" asked Harry, as he too was familiar with the headmasters writing. Hermione nodded.
"Who's it from?" asked Draco.
"Dumbledore," said Hermione simply.
"Go on, what does it say?" asked Ginny.
"Yes, Miss Granger, what does it say?" The heads of the six readers shot up and saw Professor McGonagall standing just a few feet away from the bench that they were sitting on.
"Professor McGonagall," squeaked Hermione, jumping up. The diary and the letter fell from her lap as the others, save Draco, stood up as well.
"We're sorry," stammered Harry. "We really didn't-I mean-Well, we did, but-,"
"Please, don't get angry with Hermione, Professor," said Ginny. "We forced her to read it, even though she didn't want to."
"Silence," commanded Professor McGonagall, holding up her hand to stop the talking. Then, with the same had now facing palm up, she said, "Give me the diary, Miss Granger." Hermione quickly picked up the diary and handed it over to the apparently angry teacher.
"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall," she said, lowering her head as well as her voice. "I swear to never do that again, nor will I ever breath a word of anything I have found out to anyone. Ever!" McGonagall sighed and looked at the young woman in front of her.
"How far did you get, Miss Granger?" she asked.
"We only read two passages, Professor," admitted Hermione, still looking at the ground. "We read your very first one and the one after Halloween. You know, the one with the porthole?" McGonagall slowly nodded, looked at her old diary, and then back at the shamed Hermione that stood before her.
"I see," she sighed. "Well then, let me sum up what happened after that." Her stare and tone remained forever cold. "I kept a valid and up to date record of Mr. Potter's progress, what he was up to, and everything else concerning him. Professor Dumbledore and I never talked about it again after that night. Well, we tried not to anyway. But in your fifth year, that changed. Is that good enough for you, or must I elaborate more on my private life for your enjoyment?"
"No, Professor," said Hermione sorrowfully, never once looking up to face her favorite professor.
"Good," said McGonagall. "You six are now needed in front of the Order. Now go." The six regretfully took off, leaving McGonagall alone in the park.
The tired professor sat down on the now empty bench, her diary still clutched in her hands. She would have expected something like this from Malfoy or perhaps even a Weasly. But certainly not from Granger, the one she had most trusted to get her diary. Then, she felt a light touch on her shoulder and looked up.
"Hello, Albus," she said as her husband joined her on the bench.
"What is troubling you, my dear?" he inquired, gently stroking her hair.
"Those ex-students of ours," she sighed. "They saw the porthole entry I left. Fortunately, the have not discovered that we are married. If they did..." Minerva trailed off. Both she and Albus knew that the small bunch would have let their marriage slip, releasing everyone for comments, both good and bad, and well... they just weren't ready for everyone to be making those small comments. Even though they had been together since the groups fifth year, they had only been married for five.
"In time, Minerva. In time." He kissed his wife on the lips and then brushed her hair again. She nodded, and rested her head on his shoulder. They would just have to wait until they could find the most opportune moment to tell everyone. Then, McGonagall thought of something. She looked at her husband with a smile.
"I have an idea of what we can do for Hogwarts..." she said.
A/N: Sorry it's been a while. I needed time to myself to think things out. Thanks for my reviewers.
Hermione came out of the diary, more surprised than anything else. A million questions rushed through her mind and she wasn't sure which one to try and solve first. She was so in thought, that she completely ignored the small group that was looking at her, nor did she notice that they were no longer in the hospital.
"So?" asked Ginny impatiently after a few moments of silence. This cause Hermione to jump a little and look at the group around her.
"Where are we?" she asked absentmindedly.
"We're here at Gibble Park," said Harry, frowning.
"What happened in the diary?" asked Draco. Hermione could see that his foot was now wound in some bandages and he now had two crutches. Apparently, the doctor had suggested the old muggle fashion to healing.
"I thought you weren't interested in what was happening," smirked Seamus.
"Oh, honestly, Finnegan, you can't really be that thick, can you?" asked Draco, irritated. "You're worse than Crabbe or Goyle ever were. Of coarse I'm interested."
"So, what happened?" pressed Neville. Hermione looked around.
"Where's Francesca?" she inquired.
"She's over there, playing," said Harry, pointing to the swings on the park. Then, Hermione looked around the park, only to find that they were the only people there.
"Okay, here's what happened," she said. She told them the whole story. She told them how McGonagall had gone to Dumbledores office, how practically begged her to forgive him (but in his own Dumbledore sort of way) for what he had done to her, and then how she turned him down flat.
"Oh, poor McGonagall," sighed Ginny as soon as Hermione had finished. "She's such a strict person. Dumbledore should have known that she would never have forgiven him for doing such a thing as leave her at the alter."
"Poor McGonagall? What about poor Dumbledore?" asked Seamus. "He said he was sorry, and that he just wanted the best for her, and that is why she was so mad at him?"
"Now now, you two, don't start fussing," said Hermione. "You both make valid points, but you shouldn't be fighting about it."
"Not fighting, discussing," said Seamus.
"So, what do we do now?" asked Hermione. It seemed that she was asking that question a lot lately, but she really had no clue as to what to do next.
"We should keep reading," said Neville.
"I don't know, you guys, I feel really horrible prying like this into- ," Hermione started. But as she was flipping through the pages of the diary, a small, brown note fell out of it. Hermione looked down at it, picked it up, and instantly noticed the handwriting to be Dumbledores.
"Is it from who I think it's from?" asked Harry, as he too was familiar with the headmasters writing. Hermione nodded.
"Who's it from?" asked Draco.
"Dumbledore," said Hermione simply.
"Go on, what does it say?" asked Ginny.
"Yes, Miss Granger, what does it say?" The heads of the six readers shot up and saw Professor McGonagall standing just a few feet away from the bench that they were sitting on.
"Professor McGonagall," squeaked Hermione, jumping up. The diary and the letter fell from her lap as the others, save Draco, stood up as well.
"We're sorry," stammered Harry. "We really didn't-I mean-Well, we did, but-,"
"Please, don't get angry with Hermione, Professor," said Ginny. "We forced her to read it, even though she didn't want to."
"Silence," commanded Professor McGonagall, holding up her hand to stop the talking. Then, with the same had now facing palm up, she said, "Give me the diary, Miss Granger." Hermione quickly picked up the diary and handed it over to the apparently angry teacher.
"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall," she said, lowering her head as well as her voice. "I swear to never do that again, nor will I ever breath a word of anything I have found out to anyone. Ever!" McGonagall sighed and looked at the young woman in front of her.
"How far did you get, Miss Granger?" she asked.
"We only read two passages, Professor," admitted Hermione, still looking at the ground. "We read your very first one and the one after Halloween. You know, the one with the porthole?" McGonagall slowly nodded, looked at her old diary, and then back at the shamed Hermione that stood before her.
"I see," she sighed. "Well then, let me sum up what happened after that." Her stare and tone remained forever cold. "I kept a valid and up to date record of Mr. Potter's progress, what he was up to, and everything else concerning him. Professor Dumbledore and I never talked about it again after that night. Well, we tried not to anyway. But in your fifth year, that changed. Is that good enough for you, or must I elaborate more on my private life for your enjoyment?"
"No, Professor," said Hermione sorrowfully, never once looking up to face her favorite professor.
"Good," said McGonagall. "You six are now needed in front of the Order. Now go." The six regretfully took off, leaving McGonagall alone in the park.
The tired professor sat down on the now empty bench, her diary still clutched in her hands. She would have expected something like this from Malfoy or perhaps even a Weasly. But certainly not from Granger, the one she had most trusted to get her diary. Then, she felt a light touch on her shoulder and looked up.
"Hello, Albus," she said as her husband joined her on the bench.
"What is troubling you, my dear?" he inquired, gently stroking her hair.
"Those ex-students of ours," she sighed. "They saw the porthole entry I left. Fortunately, the have not discovered that we are married. If they did..." Minerva trailed off. Both she and Albus knew that the small bunch would have let their marriage slip, releasing everyone for comments, both good and bad, and well... they just weren't ready for everyone to be making those small comments. Even though they had been together since the groups fifth year, they had only been married for five.
"In time, Minerva. In time." He kissed his wife on the lips and then brushed her hair again. She nodded, and rested her head on his shoulder. They would just have to wait until they could find the most opportune moment to tell everyone. Then, McGonagall thought of something. She looked at her husband with a smile.
"I have an idea of what we can do for Hogwarts..." she said.