A/N: Good afternoon. Merry Whatever you celebrate, or Friday. I attempted a little thing for Christmas and ... well it's not a little thing anymore. We're coming up on ten chapters and we're not finished yet. So, yey for that I guess lol Hope you enjoy.
Thank you to Lib McGranger for her help beta-ing and cheerleading and all the things!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
-0-
After the months of school they'd already had, Hermione was very much ready to leave Hogwarts for a while, even if it was only to Grimmauld Place. Between Ron's stupidity and Harry's broodiness, she felt like she could scream and it was this that sent her outside the dark house, away from Mrs Weasley's smothering, and into the rather overgrown garden.
They would leave for The Burrow in a few days, so they could have a proper Christmas party but for now, she was stuck at the former Black residence. The only escape was the musty library full of dark curses and darker themes.
"Oh," a voice disturbed her solitude. "Miss Granger, I do apologise."
"Oh," Hermione said quickly. "No Professor, please don't. I just needed some air."
"Quite," Minerva chuckled.
They stood in silence for a while before Hermione turned to look at their Transfiguration Professor.
"You look so tired," she muttered before she could stop herself. She immediately opened her mouth to apologise, but instead, the woman laughed.
"Oh, Miss Granger, you would not believe how true that is."
"Can you not tell him you need a rest?" Hermione asked, figuring she was already in for a penny. "Surely you can't be as careful as you need to if you are that tired?"
The Professor smiled sadly but didn't answer. Instead, she took out her wand and cleared some of the overgrowth and nodded Hermione forward past the bare overhanging branches of the willow tree.
"Oh that's," she looked around at the little secret space beneath the tree, with a bench and an old, decrepit fountain that once would have looked quite lovely. "This house makes no sense sometimes."
"Would you like to sit?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"I would," Hermione smiled.
"How has your year been going ?"
Hermione laughed but shrugged nonchalantly.
"Rough," Hermione muttered. "Harry is hurt and moody and in deep mourning still. He has too much on his plate and a horrendous sense of saviour syndrome. Ron is," she sighed. "Being an idiot."
"I have noticed his assignations with Miss Brown. That must hurt?"
"Ha," Hermione chuckled. "Not in the way you think." She sighed. "You have fallen into the trap that most people have, Professor. Assuming that Ron and I are meant to end up together?"
There was an awkward silence as Professor McGonagall looked at her carefully.
"You are correct and for that, I apologise."
"Don't," Hermione shrugged. "Although you usually read me better than this?"
"I am tired," Minerva said, the corners of her mouth twitching. "And we have not managed to find the time for tea in a long while."
"Honestly the worst part of this damnable war."
"Agreed," Professor McGonagall sighed.
"Are you coming to the Christmas Party?"
"I," she hesitated. "Had not intended to, no. Christmas is," she sighed. "Difficult for me. I have plans for the actual day, but I tend to avoid parties at this time of year"
"That's a shame," Hermione muttered, though she adored the candid revelation. "I had hoped you'd be there to save me from Mr Weasley's harmless, but endless questions about Muggle artefacts."
Professor McGonagall smiled properly and Hermione was reminded of that little warm feeling in her belly whenever the Professor did so.
"Then I must," the Professor said finally.
"Only if you want to, if it's too uncomfortable -"
"What time?"
"Two on the 23rd. Late lunch, alcohol, probably a Quidditch match?"
"Oh, then I shall definitely attend," she chuckled.
"For the Quidditch?" Hermione queried wryly. "Or the alcohol?" The Professor smirked but did not clarify. Hermione merely watched her for a moment. "Are you really okay?"
The Professor was right in saying they hadn't had time to take tea together for a very long time. Between the toad-woman whose name she refused to even think, then the return of Voldemort and nearly losing Harry at the Ministry and being hurt herself, she and Professor McGonagall had only seen each other in class.
"I am, Miss Granger, thank you."
"Hermione?"
Minerva smiled.
"Hermione. I am very much recovered. But," she said suddenly, turning to face her. "What about you? Poppy mentioned you were injured as well?"
"Oh," Hermione said awkwardly. "I'm fine. It was," she sighed. "Well, okay, it was bad. They could not determine what spell was used as I'd silenced him before he cast it, but," she shrugged. "What's another scar, right?"
The Professor's face fell.
"I -" Hermione, this time, turned in her seat and watched as the Professor picked at her thumbnail. "Some scars are more haunting than others."
"Some -" Hermione hesitated. She let that warm feeling in her belly guide her hand and covered the Professor's hands with her own. Feeling the cool skin, she whispered a warning charm and watched the Professor's tremulous smile. "Some are a show of strength. Of resilience?"
"My nightmares would disagree with you," the Professor whispered.
"Mine too," Hermione shrugged, grinning when their eyes met.
"We are a pair," Professor McGonagall nodded. She turned her hand over and squeezed Hermione's, but didn't pull away. "Perhaps a Christmas party is exactly what we all need."
"I think so, Professor."
"My dear, if I'm going to call you Hermione, you'd better call me Minerva, don't you think?"
"Well, I'd be honoured, but you calling me by my name is not an automatic assumption I should do that too."
"Please do so, when we are in private."
"Thank you," Hermione smiled. "Minerva."
"Just so," Minerva whispered. "Now," she said, checking a small, delicate silver watch on her wrist. "I must be off and you should go back inside. It is cold and though the protections on this house are extensive, I would not spend too much time out here. It is my experience that if there is a weakness in a ward, it is often in the garden."
"I'll remember," Hermione said, getting up and offering her hand to help Minerva. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I must be," she muttered. "I will be," she amended as Hermione opened her mouth. "I promise."
"Well, a promise from Minerva McGonagall is one I shall hold on to."
Minerva smiled and her arm twitched before something crossed her face that Hermione couldn't read and she clasped her hands behind her back.
"Take care, Hermione," Minerva said, almost desperately.
"I will," Hermione promised. "Although I'm going to see you in a few days, aren't I?"
"Yes," Minerva nodded. "But a lot can happen in a few days."
"May I?" Hermione asked, opening her arms in an offer of a hug.
"Seeing as it's Christmas," Minerva chuckled, her long arms wrapping around Hermione as her arms did the same.
Hermione sunk into the embrace and breathed deeply as they held each other. She frowned as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Blinking them away she pushed away the weird, overwhelming feelings that she had no name for. Minerva smelled of peppermint and parchment and ginger and though it was nothing she'd ever put together, it was so comforting, she couldn't help but hold on for a little longer than she knew she should.
Minerva didn't let go either, though.
"Take care," Minerva whispered, pressing a kiss against Hermione's head and disappearing into the house without another word.
Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her temple tingling where she'd felt those lips caress her skin and came to a shocking but not altogether surprising revelation.
She had feelings for Minerva McGonagall.
-0-
"Whatcha doin' 'Mione?"
"Nothing," Hermione replied absently, telling the truth. She'd been staring out of the window into the garden while Mrs Weasley told someone off in the kitchen.
"What's up?" Ginny asked, sitting beside her.
"We're at war, isn't that enough?"
"You know what I mean," Ginny said quietly. "You seem," she sighed. "Down. Is it Ron again?"
Hermione laughed finally and tore her eyes away from the spot beneath the willow tree she now considered her own.
"When will everyone realise I'm angry at Ron for thinking with his -" she winced. "Well. I'm not attracted to him or anything, despite everyone thinking I should be. I love him Gin, as a friend. But I couldn't ever imagine being with him."
Ginny, to Hermione's surprise, laughed. "I'm not like that."
"I always told George you were gay."
"Wait," Hermione gaped. "How did you," she shook herself. "I mean, what do you -"
"Hey," Ginny said, sobering immediately. "It's okay you know. It doesn't change anything."
"Doesn't it?" Hermione whispered.
"No! Why should it?"
"I dunno," Hermione shrugged. "I," she groaned. "I'm not sure I realised properly until recently. I mean, I definitely don't love Ron, like that, but I hadn't realised until -" she bit her lip.
"Until what?"
"Gin," Hermione whined. "I," she groaned again. "Do you promise not to tell anyone? At all."
"I swear," Ginny said easily.
Hermione warred with herself for a while and dropped her face into her hands.
"I think I've fallen for someone."
"That's great!" Ginny smiled. "Who is it? Wait, shall I guess?"
"You won't guess," Hermione sighed. "It's not anyone you'd think."
"McGonagall," Ginny said without hesitation.
Hermione stared at her, her face grew hot and her stomach revolted in horror.
"Wait!" Ginny said, grabbing her as she tried to flee. "Wait, it's ok."
"It's not okay! She's a teacher."
"So," Ginny shrugged.
"She's -"
"Your equal in every way," Ginny smiled. "Everything you could want in a partner."
"Partner?! Ginny!"
"Stop panicking for a minute and think about it. If anyone could make that work, it would be you and her."
"No," Hermione said immediately. "I am not thinking of her like that."
"Hermione," Ginny said gently. "What about living with her? Buying furniture together? Reading? Cooking dinner?"
"Ginny," Hermione whispered, her chin wobbling. "I can't."
"Because it's perfect?"
"Yes," Hermione breathed.
"Well, now we have an even better reason for you to figure out how the fuck we're gonna kill Baldy and get on with our lives."
The change in seriousness shocked Hermione so much that she burst into laughter and leant tiredly against her best friend.
"Thank you," she whispered as they chuckled together.
"No problem. Also," she giggled. "Pretty sure she's loaded too, so you've got that going for you."
"GINNY!"
The noise drew the boys into the room and Ginny squeezed Hermione's hand before challenging them to a game of Gobstones that ended with them all playing, laughing and enjoying their evening together.
-0-
"GEORGE! FRED!"
The thudding of footsteps on the stairs woke Mrs Black up and the portrait screamed obscenities while they jumped to the floor as if nothing had happened.
"For goodness sake boys," Mrs Weasley groaned, helping Hermione and Ginny close the curtains on the portrait. "Now, you four," she said, indicating that she meant Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. "We'll be going across the road to the park before we take a Portkey. Fred? George? You can Apparate from the top step."
"I'm not Fred."
"Sorry George."
"Wait," Fred said, winking at Hermione as he met her eyes. "Yes I am, never mind Mum."
"For the love of Merlin. Go. Home. Now."
"Alright woman, keep your hair on."
They disappeared from the top step with a crack and Hermione and Harry hung back while Mrs Weasley fussed around Ron and Ginny.
"You alright?"
"Yeah?" Hermione frowned, turning to face him. Without saying a word, she read the truth in his eyes and growled.
"I asked her. Please don't get angry with her."
"She promised."
"Yeah but you were going to tell me anyway, weren't you?" Harry asked, pointedly.
"I don't know! I only realised yesterday, I don't even know how I feel about it yet!"
"Yes you do," he said gently. "You always have and, well, I think it's awesome." He glanced over to Ron. "He's my best mate, but he's not right for you."
She looked sideways at him and sighed.
"Thank you."
"You gonna do anything about it?"
"Come on, not you too," she groaned. "We're in the middle of a war! Who knows what is going to happen. Between what we have to do with you and," she made a face. "School, and the Order? Also, that's not to mention her," she winced. "Occupation."
"You haven't seen the way she watches you when you're not looking."
"What?"
"She watches you, just like you watch her. I don't think you realise how much she's," he searched for the word. "Affected by you."
"Don't, Harry," she sighed. "Please."
"Alright, but I think you've got a chance."
He wrapped his arm around her as Mrs Weasley shuffled them forward and out of the door. The walk over the road to the park was pleasant. Despite the cold, winter day, the sky was clear, for once, and the sun was warm in their faces. Hermione's head was spinning from the revelations she'd come to and from the knowledge that both of her friends not only knew her innermost thoughts but also supported her acting on them.
It was as ridiculous as anything she'd ever heard to imagine that ever happening. Minerva McGonagall was a powerhouse. A Professor. And she was nothing but a student with a crush. She would push those feelings aside so she could remain friends with the woman. Perhaps, in time, this inconvenient crush would fade and they would continue as they did before this.
"Hermione!"
She blinked as Harry grabbed her hand and she just managed to touch the Portkey before it disappeared.
"You alright 'Mione?" Ginny asked as they landed outside The Burrow's wards.
"Yes, sorry. My mind was somewhere else."
"Constance Vigilance," Mrs Weasley muttered, ushering them inside the boundaries.
It was colder down in Ottery St Catchpole but Hermione appreciated the frigid air to bring her to her senses. Mrs Weasley was right. She needed to get over this and to make sure she was paying attention to her surroundings. If nothing else, she'd promised Minerva that she would be careful and so she would. She checked her wand was where it was supposed to be and fell in step with her friends.
"Harry! Ron, Ginny!" George yelled from the front door. "Quidditch!"
The boys whooped and Harry ran to the house to get his things where he'd stashed his broom. Hermione followed Ginny, declining an offer to play Keeper, and insisted she'd just watch. She settled herself under a tree near where they were playing and tried not to think about anything at all as she watched them play.
"Watch out!"
A bludger Fred had charmed himself turned suddenly and headed straight for Harry, who only managed to duck at the last minute. Ginny screamed as it hit her arm and she slid from her broom.
"Gin!"
Hermione rushed to her friend and helped her down from her broom where Harry had managed to catch her. The bludger had been disabled by Fred and they rushed over as well.
"Oh bloody hell, Mum's gonna kill us."
"Hermione can fix it," Ginny muttered. "Can't you?"
Hermione hesitated, but then figured she might as well try.
"Go on 'Mione. Bet you can."
"I will attempt it," she said, cutting off Ron's begging. "If not, I'll be the one to tell your Mum."
"That is why we love you, Hermione," George grinned.
"Alright, don't move," Hermione sighed, recalling the books she'd read about healing over the summer. She performed the spell and then checked her work carefully afterwards for any residual pain or aching. Ginny, however, was marvelling at her.
"You're amazing, you know that, right?"
"Well," she chuckled. "I'm just glad it worked. I'd still maybe get Madam Pomfrey to look at it."
"I will," she grinned.
"KIDS! Dinner!"
They raced back to The Burrow and Hermione got caught up in the excitement of the impending Christmas party as they ate dinner and gathered around the fire for hot chocolates and Mrs Weasley's famous Christmas mince pies. By the time that Hermione realised that she'd managed not to think about Minerva McGonagall, it was late. She trudged up the stairs with Ginny and got ready for bed, falling beside her friend with a sigh.
"You know," Ginny whispered. "It's okay to like her."
"Gin," Hermione groaned. "It's not. She's a teacher."
"Harry reckons -" she paused as Hermione picked her head up and glared. "Yeah ok, but he asked me outright and I wasn't going to lie to him."
"You promised."
"It's not like I told anyone except Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she said, quickly. "He reckons she's not disinterested."
"Ginny," Hermione almost screamed into her pillow. "Have you never met the woman? We don't know her! I don't even know if she's gay!"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters!"
"A woman like her?" Ginny scoffed.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Ginny rolled her eyes.
"God, you're so funny. I just mean she's intelligent and she's accepting. She's not gonna be an asshole about it, is she."
"That's what I mean!" Hermione nearly squeaked. "I don't know her."
"Well, is she coming to the party?"
"Maybe," Hermione winced.
"That's a yes," Ginny grinned, getting far too much enjoyment out of Hermione's uncomfortableness.
"I asked her to come. She said she would."
"Mhmm. Don't think she's ever attended before?"
"Shut up, I'm going to bed."
"G'night," Ginny called jovially.
Hermione rolled her eyes again for good measure and got under the covers. She lay perfectly still until she heard Ginny snoring softly.
Turning onto her back, she did as Ginny had asked her on the first day that she'd made the realisation herself. What would it be like? To be with her? To live together, to cook dinner, to read together, to live in a little cottage, with a little garden, in a little village out of the way of anybody.
What would it be like to love Minerva McGonagall?
She didn't know, but deep down inside her? Quietly, in the dark? Hermione was pretty sure she wanted to find out.
