Chapter 25

Seeing his wife and family, giving them the attention and appreciation they so deserved, was unintentionally cut short by a loud pop outside of their home. Ginny and Harry were only just beginning to talk about Hermione's condition when a knock at the door interrupted them. They hadn't been expecting company. Harry grumbled and told his wife to hang tight. She could care less knowing that her husband would be home for a while, they could easily make up for lost time. It wasn't until she heard the Minister's voice that her concern began to bubble.

"Harry," The Minister greeted while the man ventured out of his home and out onto the step, closing the door behind him. "I heard the news from the front line, I am so sorry for your loss. She was a great woman." The green eyed man played it cool, despite his boiling blood.

"Minister Shacklebolt, I hadn't been expecting you." Professional, succinct. Harry tucked his hands into his pockets and wandered down to the lawn, eyeing Kingsley. The dark figure was unreadable. As always. But this time, Harry could see a shift in his nature, a guardedness, that could be considered unsettling. Now that the veil had been thrown back, the slow shift of disposition from the beginning until now had been apparent. If only he had seen it before.

"I realize it's… Out of the blue, I apologize if I am interrupting your family time," The Minister began, smoothly, his hands mirroring Harry's and tucking themselves into the pockets of his royal blue robes. "I just had a few questions regarding some reports that I've been receiving, as you know, it's important for a Minister to be aware of all goings on…" His dark eyes narrowed fractionally while Harry remained unaffected. He had little to no fear of Kingsley, so he played along while his wife stood behind the closed door of their entrance, her wand in her hand, ready, should the situation become unmanageable.

"Oh?" Harry's brows rose, exuding an air of nonchalance. "What sort of reports, sir? Anything I can be of service with?" He wanted so badly to confront him, to confine him and bring him in to the Ministry then and now, have him sit in a cage in the middle of the judgement chambers and present his findings, findings which his wife had so carefully leafed through, that still lay strewn across his desk upstairs in his office mere feet away. But, no… He needed Minerva's documentation first. He needed it to be sent to the Ministry so he could bring forth his own. And so, he withheld.

The Minister lowered his chin, his eyes trained on the green eyed man standing there.

"Your staff have been seen scouring the archives, something I wouldn't necessarily consider unusual, but with your disappearance and the death of your friend, I am considering what they are so desperately searching for." There was an edge to Kingsley's tone, an accusatory note, that, perhaps, he was unaware that he was using. It was the sort of sound that would make anyone feel like they were in the midst of interrogation, but it was light. So light. And somewhat hidden behind the guise of honest, curious questioning. Harry's features schooled themselves.

"Kingsley, you and I have been friends a very long time, you know how important my family is to me, Hermione was my family… Any further information I can acquire on her attackers and the ones that got away, I would like to have… It's important that they are brought to justice," Harry told him with a frankness. "My staff are simply aiding me in doing just that, bringing Hermione, and any who have been harmed, justice by these obscene crimes against humanity. That has always been my goal."

The Minister eyed him carefully. Harry's heart, despite beating rapidly, didn't explode in his chest. Outwardly, no one would have clocked his sincerity, because what he had said was very true. He was going to bring justice, one way or another, and the Minister could do little, if anything, to stop him.

Whether it be that Kingsley couldn't find a lie in his cover, or that, regardless if he did, didn't have enough information to use against him, the man relented. The Minister nodded his head after a few moments.

"I understand, but… Let me warn you, Harry… As a good friend," The Minister cautioned as he readied himself to leave. "The path of vengeance and thoughtlessness is what lands brilliant people, like Hermione, to meet ends. Don't follow the path of those mistakes, I wouldn't take glory in having to show you reality." Harry's chin rose, his gaze growing ever more questioning. Kingsley gave him one last nod, then was gone with a deafening pop.

It had been a threat. Harry knew as much. The man turned back to his home, relaxedly, in the off chance someone might have been watching, and went back inside where his wife was waiting. Time wasn't on their side. Of that, he was certain. But with Minerva's written letters, with the few Aurors left standing after that botched excursion waiting for a moment to give their own testimony in person, and the records that Harry had acquired of previous instances, he was sure that they had a win on their hands. Kingsley would be stripped of his duties, who knows, maybe even jailed if warranted. But, it had to be in order first.

Harry prayed his staff would be just fine.

_~*HGMM*~_

A pair of women walked, slowly, into the confines of the Headmistress's private quarters. Hermione couldn't help but to be slow, cautious, as the signal her leg with each step was giving her was that it was growing quite tired, quite quickly. With an arm wrapped around her waist, she was given the strength to take those few more steps until she could be seated in a large, comfortable wingback chair, one of Minerva's favorites, and she watched as Minerva summoned an ottoman from the other end of the living quarters.

"Here… Elevate." The Headmistress ordered softly, helping her to lift her sore leg and rest it on the ottoman which adorned a pillow. Minerva reached for Hermione's cane and laid it to rest against the stone of the fireplace, within reaching distance, then turned towards her small kitchen to make a pot of tea. Brown eyes followed her, appraising. From the lift of a heeled boot, black straight legged trousers, crisp white blouse, to the tight bun her hair was wrapped into, Minerva had always been a beautiful witch. Hermione couldn't deny that even if she tried. She was intelligent beyond measure, she could be incredibly kind, thoughtful… But by Merlin, so incredibly insecure about her heart.

The pot sprung to life and alerted the pair to boiled water, boiled water that was poured over two black tea bags. Minerva knew how she liked her tea - without much milk or sugar, a splash of honey - and when they were done, brought them to the fireplace where, across from one another, they could sit. She summoned a table to be placed between them so to rest their teas upon, and then she settled down in the chair opposite the brunette. Across from one another, they passed glances. Minerva looked uncomfortable. She usually did when they had had heart to hearts in the past, not only recently… But far before that. Wearing her heart on her sleeve was only done when she hardly realized she was doing it. It posed a larger problem.

"Minerva, you can relax." Hermione stated, willing the other woman's stiffness to subside. She received a look of uncertainty in return.

"I find it hard to relax when so much has been going on these past few weeks, I feel… So ill equipped." Honesty. The younger woman could appreciate that. Hermione's eyes traced over the angular features of the woman across the table, her hand raising her cup of hot tea to her lips to sip. It was good. Refreshing.

"When I was younger, and we began, I honestly thought that we had been… Dating," Hermione began, tearing off the bandage to uncover the wound and what her perceptions were at the time - if only to grant illumination. "I hate the term, to be honest… It feels adolescent, but, that's what I thought was happening. At the time."

Minerva remained silent. She sipped her own tea, she listened, but she didn't interject. They hadn't ever spoken of those moments in any other way that as though they were discussing a tarnish on their timeline. To hear Hermione speak about it with less venom was intriguing. So, she quietened. Sensing this, the brunette placed her tea back down.

"I don't date, I don't enjoy dating or the question it poses… The are we/aren't we of it, well, it feels frivolous. I'm either in a relationship, or I am not." A brow rose across the table. There it was - a clear boundary. While the fire crackled and warmed, Minerva felt a chill. A physical manifestation of her unrest came in the form of coldness creeping along the skin. Still, she didn't move. Rather, parting her lips to speak, she addressed the statement.

"I don't enjoy the thought of dating, I feel similarly." She returned simply, thoughtfully. Hermione gazed at her for a few moments and then gave a nod, a hand instinctively falling upon her thigh to gently rub the muscle, absent of mind.

"That's good," She said, finding that common ground was of great importance but, more than that, she needed conviction. "But I also don't relish in the idea of being a secret. I promised myself that I would never again be in a relationship, with anyone, where I was required to never speak of it, never acknowledge it, and not fully embrace it publicly." Her tone was laced with a note of seriousness. She needed Minerva to understand that she wasn't looking to have another affair, or to be maintained in the shadow of her career. She fully understood their position, their professional relationship, but on this point she wasn't going to budge or barter. Either they were in, or they were out.

Green eyes trained upon her face and she maintained her line of sight, unwavering, and waiting for the argument to be laid down on the table between them. Minerva took her time.

"I… I have never been in the position where my personal dealings required explanation, Hermione," She began, that discomfort rising and causing her features to grow stern, despite her best intention. "And to publicly be in any sort of relationship with a student or fellow faculty member would require explanation…"

"Explanation to who?" Hermione asked in all seriousness and curiosity. The ebony haired woman's mouth closed, her mind abuzz with the thought. "I am no longer your student and, yes, I am under your employ, but, we are two consenting adults who, in the eyes of the world, had been very dear friends, who fought a war together, who stood by one another… To be honest, I doubt anyone would be terribly surprised." Considering this, Minerva found herself peering down at the hands in her own lap. Hermione's points were compelling, yet, something just didn't feel as it should. It was her, really. Not the woman seated across from her but something within herself that couldn't quite grasp.

It was that overwhelming feeling of judgement. What would her staff think if she were to begin in a relationship with one of their peers? What would the students think? What might parents believe? What of her position? What if it went terribly wrong? The questions swirled in Minerva's mind and landed her right where she had been that day that she turned Hermione away. That was the crux of the issue. It was her issue. She was strong in many a fashion, but the fear of losing respect outweighed her affection in some moments. Hermione could feel it. She remembered that look about face, she knew what was coming, and, unlike her younger self, she remained undaunted. If anything, it pissed her off.

"Don't start." She said simply, her voice lowering. Minerva's gaze rose and she was met with that severe look she had grown accustomed to, proof that the young woman was no longer that bushy haired Gryffindor but a grown woman, with a much stronger resolve.

"Hermione, it's difficult to…"

"One thing I will tell you right now," Hermione stated, her shoulders tensing. That look on Minerva's face, it made her feel like a cat being rubbed the wrong way. "Is that no one but you seems to care who it is you are fucking." Minerva's face twisted briefly.

"Do you always have to be so crass?" She bristled, planting an elbow on the arm of her chair and leaning there, her gaze casting itself upon the flames briefly before returning to the woman who spoke.

"Yes, I do… because that's part of who I am, I am crass, and sometimes I think I actually like a good argument, but on this point I will not argue with you," She replied pointedly, her gaze not leaving the face of the Headmistress, even if those eyes weren't cast back in her direction. "The only person who cares about what you are doing, and who you do it with, is just you… No one could question their respect for you, you are a brilliant woman who has done more for this school than I think even Dumbledore himself had… He's hanging in your office, go ask him. You've proven your worth time and time again, no one would question it, but you are so damn afraid of it for some reason, and this is why we are where we are."

Minerva's sights snapped back to Hermione's face. The coolness of her own icy gaze was tempered by the fire in chocolate brown eyes. Her tongue was frozen. There were so many things she would have liked to counter and to say but something caused not a single syllable to formulate, allowing the other woman opportunity to continue.

"However, I will digress - if you believe that your position, and your pride and your dignity, means more to you than my love, a few words will silence me on the subject until we next part ways again, whenever that will be, the door will close and I won't bother you with it again, but I also won't believe you if you come to me and say your mind has changed," She told the woman, as plainly as she could without working herself up to the point of shedding tears where tears were undue. "If you need time to consider it, I'll give you that time, but I will expect an answer eventually…"

"Are you asking me to choose between you and my job?" Minerva countered quickly, her brows knitting. If it was one thing she would not stand for, that she could never stand for, was an ultimatum. Hermione knew this. And so when Hermione gently shook her head and sighed, her hand deftly still rubbing her leg, Minerva felt herself ease.

"No, silly woman… I'm telling you that you can have both."

Minerva paused. Both. The post that she adored so dearly and the woman that she loved. Shockingly, the thought never really settled into mind prior. The idea of having both. It felt foreign and unusual. Utopian. The women peered at one another, both sensing a shift in the conversation that might not have been wholly expected. Hermione raised a brow, her hand stilling on her thigh. Something about Minerva's expression made her question what the woman's mind was playing at. The silence fell between them but it wasn't uneasy, it was filled with contemplation and consideration for the topic.

"I don't even know where we would begin if we were to begin." Admitting this to Hermione, unbeknownst, granted a spark of hope. The words were given as an unspoken question of how do we even do this? They had a past and a lot of history, some of it wonderful while the rest was too hard to discuss at great length, and it had been thrown in her face too many times for her to take much pleasure in pursuing a conversation about it. One thing was for certain, it was a matter of how.

"Well, we can start with tonight… I don't think it'd be entirely wise for me to try and hobble myself back to my room," Minerva's attention was piqued. "But you do have a spare bedroom… We can take things slow, cohabitate, and no one would question me staying here with you to have a friend close by in my condition while we figure this out, we'll only have to make Poppy aware of it… That she'd find me here, and not in my rooms."

It was hard to believe it could be as easy as what Hermione had described. Minerva's space was well known to them both, having been subject to very few changes between the years of her schooling and then. Living in the space with one another, getting to know one another again, properly, was an enticing thought. One that granted both the opportunity for growth, and Hermione could always return to her own private quarters should she feel so compelled to do so. Not yet had they applied a label to their connection beyond that of friendship, the ease of doing so not yet discoverable. But the option was on the table, not quite tangible yet, still, it was an option.

"I would like that." The Headmistress replied, remarkably calmed by the thought that nothing had to be decided then and there. The plan was hatched and it was a good plan, it took all things into consideration. How they could coincide with their individual temperaments, how they could work together to discover that which they hadn't had the vision to before. It was a chance at a fresh start. With that in mind, Minerva cleared her throat quietly.

I have only one request," With Hermione's attention, she continued. "We have had many discussions, arguments, about what had happened before your graduation, I can't bring myself to discuss those events any longer… I would like for this to be the end of those discussions, I don't want to be shadowed by my previous actions or disposition." It was a fair ask. And a sincere one. If this was a moment to start anew, a fresh beginning, then the rest needed to be laid to the past and not tamper with potential future. Minerva couldn't bear the thought of anything irrelevant being thrown in her direction in a second of weakness, or the amount of hurt it would cause. She had dwelled enough. She imagined Hermione had dwelled enough on it herself.

The corner of Hermione's lips twitched.

"We can put it to bed, Minerva." Replied the brunette woman, having the will to understand why the request was so very important. She didn't want to think on it either. The years had passed and she had thought on those memories enough times to fill up a lifetime. They weren't as important as they had been. Did she forgive it? No, not really. But that wasn't the point, the point was regardless of forgiveness, they were attempting to make good on it. That was enough to put her mind at ease.

With no further notions, or potentials, to discuss, the pair of women sat in the quiet by the fire for the evening. Eventually, Minerva left briefly for her office, explaining she had a few letters to send off. Hermione didn't question her, rather she summoned a book off the shelf and settled herself in for a read, cracking the potion in her pocket and drinking it when her leg began to thump with an uncomfortable pulse. The ebony haired woman returned not terribly long after, the sight of Hermione sitting by the fire with a book in her hands an unusually common vision. Only, this time, the woman had aged. When the time came for dinner, they ate in comfortable silence. Chatting was minimal as both women had much on their mind, but it wasn't drudged down by serious thought. Rather, it was filled with hopefulness, it was tranquil, now that everything they could think of to say was out of the way and dealt with.

When night fell, after a bit of quiet reading together, Minerva helped Hermione to her room. The pair of women lingered in the doorway and for the first time since her arrival, only a bit of discomfort filled the air. Minerva stood awkwardly for a moment, a quiet goodnight caught somewhere in her throat. Understanding the peculiar circumstances, Hermione did what she could only think of to squash the discomfort and hesitation. She reached for the front of Minerva's blouse and pulled the woman toward her, only for a few slow passing seconds, and kissed the woman goodnight. It was soft, unreserved, and displayed the affection she was so sought after. One kiss bled into two, then to three, and left them near with their foreheads pressed at long last. With that, Minerva straightened, a mild look on her face and she finally said good night and watched as the door closed. She ventured to her own bedroom and began getting ready for bed, her lips still tingling with the kiss they had shared. It was a beginning.

_~*HGMM*~_

Wasting little time, Harry kissed his children and his wife. The morning hours were relaxing until an owl came through with notice that Minerva had finally sent in her documentation. This was followed within the hour by another owl from the Ministry who summoned him at once, he had to leave for London. In his briefcase lay well organized papers. Their description of multiple events where Aurors who had been slighted by the Minister became his focus. With Kingsley unaware of Hermione's status, surely, with her own words, she could put to rest any further questioning. He sent Minerva a letter quickly, scrawling a request for them both to meet him at the Ministry as quickly as they could, he could only delay the powers that be for so long before their moment would be marred by indecision. He trusted them to be swift.

Ginny and the kids knew at any given moment Harry could be called away, it was the norm, so this morning was no different. He couldn't wait for a day when it was an inconvenience and no longer an expectation, but first, there was work to be done.

TBC