A/N: Hello again! I'm back with another story, this time HG/MM. You'll find it to be similar to my older piece A New Dictionary Entry for those looking for something sapphic but with an asexual/aromantic twist. I hope you enjoy!
Sixth Year
It was already quite late at night, but Hermione seemed unaware of the time passing as the moonlight shone brightly on the Astronomy Tower where she was standing, contemplating something that had come to pass earlier that day. On her way leaving Transfiguration for Charms class, she overheard a few of the sixth year Slytherins who were in the Gryffindor-Slytherin class with her talking about how much of a suck up Hermione is.
"She's always going, 'Professor McGonagall, I have a question. Professor McGonagall, could you help me with the spell work? Professor McGonagall!'" A female student whose voice Hermione couldn't quite pinpoint said in a high-pitched mocking voice.
"Yeah, must think having a crush on the old hag will up her grades or something. What a pushover! Glad nobody in our house sucks up to McGonagall like that. We'd never hear the end of it from Snape." Another female student replied before they rounded the corner, leaving Hermione to feel frustrated as they walked off.
Normally, this sort of comment wouldn't bother Hermione in the slightest. After all, they were just some Slytherins who already had something against her for being Muggleborn and smart. What really left a bad taste in her mouth was the word "crush". Before he started snogging…er, dating, Lavender Brown, Ron had a big crush on Hermione to the point that it was making her feel uncomfortable being around him without Harry present. Contrary to what everyone thought happened between her and Viktor Krum, Hermione hadn't so much as kissed a boy, or girl for that matter. What had seemed so insignificant only years ago now plagued her thoughts as a teenager soon set to graduate and move on to the next phase in her life. She felt immature, hoping against hope that maybe she was simply a late bloomer. She'd much rather have a crush or even fake a crush on her dear mentor, Minerva McGonagall, than suffer from the shame and lack of self-worth that came from not fitting in the boxes of straight, gay, or bisexual.
Her thoughts made her feel uneasy, which is why she sought the cool, crisp autumn air of the Astronomy Tower under the guise of doing some observations with her telescope, a far better pastime than whatever Ron and Lavender were doing in the Gryffindor common room after curfew. It's not that she didn't like romance or didn't get butterflies thinking about maybe cuddling with or hugging someone she liked, but she knew her hormones certainly weren't telling her to do more than hold hands and kiss someone on the cheek. Perhaps one day she would figure out the one part of her identity that never truly fit, not even among other Muggleborn witches.
Looking at the lunar landscape through her telescope, Hermione had almost tuned out noise until she heard footsteps ascending the tower. A sharp intake of breath and look at her watch indicated that she was indeed up too late unintentionally, although she knew she would otherwise just be tossing and turning in bed.
Minerva McGonagall, the very object of her late-night thoughts, appeared at the top of the steps. She took in the curly haired young witch in front of her, a dear student who she had mentored and gotten to know well over the years. They were due to have tea in a week and Minerva was greatly looking forward to spending time with her protegee.
"Miss Granger, is that you? It's quite late dear, would you mind finishing your observations for the night?" Minerva asked gently, hoping not to startle the young Gryffindor too much or make it seem as though she was in trouble. While Minerva had a reputation as Head of House, she also acted with discretion when it came to teenagers. A little rule breaking, within reason, was sometimes allowed when the students needed to blow some steam or steal up to the Astronomy Tower on a moonlit night.
"Professor McGonagall, I apologize. I just lost track of time it seems."
"Not to worry dear, I remember doing the same thing when I was a student. Looking intently at the stars above is calming, almost meditative."
"I know what you mean, my dad loves fishing for that reason, but I was never very interested in it."
"Yes, well you certainly don't have to worry about a sunburn up here." Minerva quipped.
Hermione smiled and put the telescope back in place. She gathered her book bag, descending the staircase behind her professor.
"Is everything all right?" Minerva asked, looking back up at her pupil on the stairs.
Hermione shrugged, a noncommittal gesture. "I'm fine, professor. Just a bit lost in thought." Hermione paused for a moment, unsure how much she wanted to open up to her mentor.
Somehow, the combination of the dimly lit stairwell and the intimacy of being alone with her professor made her continue. "I don't think it will come to a surprise to you that I'm not exactly good at being a teenager. I'm just as moody as the next girl, but everyone has a boyfriend or a crush or two on a real person or celebrity. I've never been interested in that stuff and it's becoming harder and harder to tune it out. Today after class I overheard a few people saying how much of a suck-up I am and, well, I suppose they're right."
Minerva knew how other students liked to taunt Hermione relentlessly for a number of reasons and how Hermione tried to act like it didn't bother her.
"Hermione, I remember when I was overhearing the same unsavory things about myself and Professor Dumbledore. I know that you try hard to not let it bother you, as I have as well. Nobody expects all of the girls to have a boyfriend at your age, despite how many times your peers bemoan the fact that they are single at the ripe old age of sixteen," Minerva responded, using her given name to show that, in this, they were equals.
Part of Hermione wanted to change the subject, but Minerva was proving to be a willing listener.
"I know, I'm just worried that something is wrong with me. We've already had so many conversations about careers and furthering my education, but I haven't the slightest clue what my personal life could even be like. Lately I've been asking myself what kind of family I'd like, and I just don't know. Sure, I'd like to be a parent, but I don't know much more than that."
"I'm not the best person to ask about this, but I do know that these sorts of personal things don't get answered in the same way as a high grade on an exam or job offer do. You don't know what steps you'll be taking to get to possibly being a partner or parent. That's what's so exciting about being a teenager. Right now, you just get to be yourself. Being true to yourself is the most important relationship you will ever have." Minerva gave Hermione a reassuring pat on the back as they reached the bottom of the tower and began walking the empty halls of Hogwarts.
Before she knew it, Minerva had led her back to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room and the end of their time together.
"Thank you, professor. That's good advice that I'll really take to heart. How many points do I lose for being out past curfew?" Hermione asked.
The question took Minerva by surprise. Despite talking to a teenager, there was a depth to Hermione that she didn't see in her other students. Bringing up points made her more cognizant of the fact that she was indeed talking to a student under her charge.
"There was no ill intent on staying past curfew at the Astronomy Tower and I do so enjoy our talks. No points will be deducted but I do ask you get some rest and try not to stay out too late in the future."
"Thank you, professor. I appreciate it!" Hermione beamed back at her mentor.
"Now, have a good night and I'll see you next Thursday for our monthly tea," Minerva said by way of saying goodbye.
Once Hermione was through the portrait hole and curled up in bed, she realized how much the conversation that night meant to her. To have someone understand her, just a little bit, was all the reassurance she needed that she'd be just fine. There were bigger worries to deal with, after all. Lit once again by moonlight, Hermione's sleeping face was illuminated as the few tears on her cheeks glistened with the hope that she would indeed just get to be herself.