Chapter 40: Christmas at The Weasley's Part 2

Just as perplexed as they had been those moments previous, while heartfelt congratulations were given to the women who found themselves receiving even more hugs and kisses to their cheeks, Molly and Arthur gave them their own congratulatory acknowledgement, although Molly was far more reserved.

What she knew was this: for years she'd watched on with a mother's concern as Hermione battle with herself, and damn near anyone else, which made the young woman, her eldest adoptive daughter, become hardened and unkind. Around the time of graduation a shift in Hermione's demeanor occurred and lingered, whilst now, after months of only starting to get back what she'd lost in having the brunette as part of their brood, she was married to this enigmatic witch. And the Headmistress of the school.

It all seemed rather convenient.

A friend to them, Minerva had always been. They had known each other for years, Minerva had been present at family functions before, weddings, hell… She was at Molly and Arthur's own wedding those many years ago. But this… It was near impossible to think that after such a short period of time, Hermione had simply entered into a relationship after her last and decided to marry, it wasn't who she was. Unless there had been a previous base to begin with. Yes, they looked happy. They were well suited to one another. Anyone who had a pair of eyes and two brain cells to rub together could clearly see this. However, Hermione was still her daughter, chosen family, and so Molly's defenses rose.

Despite what Hermione might have thought, Ginevra, or any one else, never divulged business that was not their own to give. The ones who knew were the original told about those goings on, and the rest remained private.

"McG! You're an honorary Weasley now, old girl!" George almost slurred being so many rum and eggnogs in. He raised his glass to the woman who eyed him with thinly veiled amusement as she began to lower herself back down into her given seat.

"Ah, before you do that Minerva, would you mind giving me a short hand in the kitchen, dear?" Molly stated, patting Ginny's shoulder as she almost pushed her youngest from rising to stand back down where she sat, garnering a questioning look from the young woman under her hand. Harry just reached and gave her knee a pat and a look. He imagined Molly was going to give the newest spouse a little chat, much like the one he'd received when Ginny and he got engaged.

Pausing for a moment, Minerva rose and straightened, briefly turning toward Hermione who perched on the arm of her chair.

"Of course, Molly… Whatever I can do to help." The Scottish witch replied, leaning to press a kiss to Hermione's forehead as she brushed passed the woman. Instinctively, Hermione reached out and gave her jean clad ass a small swat with her hand, a quick spank as though to say Go on then. An act that particularly tickled George and Ginny, while Harry and Ron passed looks to each other. Minerva, unphased, followed Molly away into the kitchen.

"Never… In my lifetime, did I ever think I'd see anyone spank Minerva McGonagall." Angelina said lowly and through a chuckle, as she shook her head. Ginny patted the spot next to her on her own ottomon, a place that Hermione eventually found herself sitting in by invitation.

"A natural reflex, I'm afraid." Smirked the brunette as she watched Ronalds ears grow a bright shade of pink.

"You know she's going to get the talk right?" Harry leaned in, eyeing his friend and his wife. Ginny just seemed to smirk, now realizing why her mother anchored her from standing seconds previous, she looked between her husband and the woman beside her, Hermione's features adorning a sligh look of question.

"The talk… What talk…" She began to say when Arthur finally piped in.

"The talk that Molly has with all the spouses marrying in, you know how Molly is… Not to worry though, it's Minerva. She can handle anything Molly has in store for her." He replied with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Hermione didn't know how to respond, which was clear by the look she cast on him. She almost grew concerned.

"Hey, Hermione… It's going to be fine, it's just Molly being a mother, it's sort of what she does." Angelina passed Hermione a comforting look as George nodded beside her knee, drawing the brunette's attention back to them.

"You both had this?" Hermione vaguely motioned between Harry and Angelina who gave looks of affirmation.

"Fleur and Percy's wife too." Ginny chuckled, remembering how white the French witch looked when she came back into the house from the garden that day. Harry had been nothing but gracious, as he always was with the Weasley's, which seemed to make it easier for Molly to give her final blessing. Angelina, on the other hand, managed to giggle her way through it. Something that, George imagined, Molly found comforting, in a way, as it would have been something she was used to from her Twin's anyway. But Minerva… Well, she was a unique case.

Hermione sat speechless for a moment as James returned to his station, sitting between her feet and between her knees on the floor. Absently her hands fell to his shoulders and, in that moment, although the boy was utterly unaware, she found comfort there.

"You really have nothing to worry about, Granger." George announced with a wink, only to be corrected softly that moment after.

"McGonagall, you mean." She murmured. Ron's brows shot high.

"You took her name?" He asked before eyeing her over the rim of his glass. "How will that work at Hogwarts, two Professor McGonagalls?" Hermione laughed lightly, a sound that made her godson slightly turn his head and look up at her with adoration, a smile spreading across his small face.

"I guess the distinction would be Professor McGonagall and Headmistress McGonagall… Jesus, I really didn't think about that… But I wanted it. Especially if we're having a family." Arthur spluttered on his drink and coughed, immediately patting his chest to clear it from the liquid that had gone down the wrong tube, whether it helped or not.

"You're not pregnant too yet, are you?!" He asked roughly as five pairs of eyes landed on her. Hermione gazed at them and shook her head.

"No… But, eventually, possibly. Most likely. I mean, can you imagine Minerva pregnant? No, didn't think so… So it'll probably be me." Ron seemed to shudder a bit at the thought of an angry, hormonal, pregnant Hermione, who seemed to catch wind of his thoughts as she eyed him with suspicion.

"Let's just cross that bridge when we get there, sweetheart… As it is, I've seen what you can do when pregnancy hormones aren't part of the equation… I don't want to imagine what you can do when you're craving a pickle sandwich in that state." At Ron's grimly spoken statement made Harry laugh out loud. Hermione cast an indignant look at both of her boys. Ginny's brows knitted in confusion.

"Pickle sandwich…" She said.

"That was one fu… Fudging time, Ronald Weasley." Hermione caught herself.

Harry leaned toward his wife.

"PMS while we were on the Horcrux search, it was a bad day." The red headed woman ahh'd and turned toward her friend with a short laugh. Hermione's cheeks pinkened.

"That sucks."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Molly poked around the stove, checking in on the steaming vegetables and the potatoes that would mash themselves when they were about ready. She inspected the roasts and the trimmings that would make her gravy, and began to prepare her Yorkshire puddings while Minerva stood awkwardly by, not yet given an occupation.

"Minerva dear, would you pour us a couple of rums, hold the eggnog." It wasn't a question, it was a bit more like an order. Turning from the ginger woman, Minerva gave a brief nod and did as she was told. She knew the kitchen well enough, having been at the Burrow often, especially in the children's younger years. Nothing ever changed that much.

Questioning what was happening, she remained silent. There was an unusual unease about the interaction. Minerva set down her glass beside Molly's on the counter and poured them two finger servings of rum. Capping the bottle and replacing it, Minerva picked up the glasses and turned to where she last saw the ginger woman, only to find Molly was no longer standing at the stove but sitting in Arthur's chair at the head of the table, a bowl whisking itself where she had been at the counter. Molly's hands were folded on the surface before her whilst blue eyes appraised the ebony haired woman and motioned with a glance to the chair along the line on her right. Despite her will, Minerva felt herself stiffen. Vaguely, the conversation and laughter from the living room filtered in but did nothing to ease the discomfort rising and the flush that had begun to creep up the sides of her neck as she strolled that short distance and placed their drinks down. She pulled out the wooden chair at Molly's right and she sat down, slightly angled toward her old friend.

Saying nothing straight away, Molly lifted the glass that Minerva presented her with and raised it to her lips to take a sample. Minerva mirrored her, thankful for that bit of burn.

"You know, Minerva," Molly began as she placed her glass back down on the surface of the wooden table, cradling it in her hands. "I remember the first time Hermione walked through that door there…" She motioned with a nod of the head to the garden door, although her eyes were somewhat trained on her drinking company. "I remember what she wore that day, I remember what books she carried in her arms, and I remember the way Ronald and Harry were drawn to her like... moths to a flame. They were so young. So very close."

Minerva swallowed hard. She had an idea of where this now was leading, and to say she was expecting it was an outrageous lie.

"I've watched first hand as she's grown up, I've helped raise her myself at times when Mr. and Mrs. Granger weren't as… equipped to manage a daughter who was also a witch, no one could doubt how much they loved their daughter but it isn't easy for a Muggle to understand who and what we are," Molly continued, the green eyed witch held her attention, clinging to what she was being told, telling her things that she had to assume but never truly know. "When Hermione obliviated her parents, entirely erasing her existence from their lives, only to return to them in Australia those years later and find that they were so… Taken… By their new lives, she didn't have the heart to reverse it, to ruin the lives she'd created for them, especially not when after she graduated she, herself, had so drastically changed. I was there when she came home, I was there. No one else. Not even Arthur."

"That must have been… Very difficult." Minerva finally stated, briefly eyeing the liquid in her glass.

"A mother never likes to see their child in pain, Minerva…. Not when we do everything we can to make sure they never have to feel it, of course… We can't always do that and pain is sometimes necessary to grow, but for Hermione… She's taken enough pain and held onto it for three lifetimes," Molly softly said, her head giving a small sad shake at the thought of what the woman had been through. "She was captured during the war, tortured, and she still found a way to the light, and then she returned to Hogwarts and something… Something that I believe, now, had something to do with you caused her to divert on her path and lean into a darkness, working for the Ministry only inhibited her more, the only time I saw her almost return to the heart of who she was when she brought another girl home, a girl who was later killed unexpectedly to us all, and now… With you."

"I realize this." It went without saying that she had had a hand in pushing Hermione one way or another, she was a coward. She had been. She accepted it. And now they were better than they ever had been. Still, she sensed Molly's suspicion. The other woman leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, her glass still cupped in her hands. Minerva met her eye.

"When she was in school, were you together?" Molly asked pointedly, wanting the truth. Minerva gazed back and felt her stomach drop. There was no use explaining anything else, it was a simple answer she was being asked of.

"Yes." She stated. Molly's gaze hardened for a moment, even as a round of loud laughter sounded from the far room, her gaze didn't let up. Minerva couldn't tell what she was thinking, what she thought of her in that moment, but she had an idea by how Molly's knuckles turned a bright white around her glass for a few seconds.

"Why Minerva? Why would you do it?" Asked the ginger woman, truly wanting to know why the Headmistress of Hogwarts school would so infringe upon her oath as a caregiver in such a way… It was unheard of for this dark haired woman to step off the course of straight and narrow. Minerva's eyes shone.

"I loved her," Minerva's throat dried uncomfortably, tightening her voice. "I love her still, I always had, she… To me, Hermione is everything good in this world, she makes sense of me in a way so rare, and everything she's done, anything she's been that has been less than stellar, is only because I was too afraid to admit it." Tears didn't fall from her eyes but she wanted them to, still, she couldn't. Although Minerva's lips did tremble as quietly spoken words poured over them and fell into the air between herself and Molly. Blue eyes bore into her own, searching for any sign of deceit. She found none.

"Did you instigate it?" Furthered Molly, and although the questions she posed were difficult, she thought, it was all due only to a most sincere want to understand. Minerva sighed and lifted her glass to her lips for a longer drink of sweet, smokey rum, while her wife sat, she assumed, unaware only mere feet away in the other room, laughing with her friends.

Placing her glass back down, Minerva's features twisting somewhat with the trail of fire snaking its way down the back of her throat, she answered.

"I didn't instigate it, we had worked very closely as we always had done, to restore Hogwarts, our relationship changed, and, you know, when she wants something, anything for that matter, she's quite difficult to deter."

"But she was your student, that should have been deterrent enough." Molly stated in that way she often could when laying down the line, although her narrowed gaze lost some of its hardness as she watched Minerva chuckle, a sad hollow sound that followed a brief shake of the head. Emerald eyes rose and met her own of blue, a thin brow arching.

"You and I both know that is not entirely true, she was hardly comparable to a student when she returned to Hogwarts to complete her last year, despite the crest on her chest, she had long since grown, although I did try and thwart her at any given opportunity because of cowardice and obligation, I… Had lived a full life, under these delusions I broke it off before graduation because I couldn't believe that a young woman, like Hermione Granger, could ever truly see a real future," The ebony haired witch stated in turn, eyeing her friend. "But she had, and she did, and even after all these years, she still chose to live it out with me. In the end… Again, she was the one to do the convincing, not I."

There were a few moments when Molly and Minerva simply looked at one another. Molly's questions had been answered, mostly, the rest would be divulged in time and those answers were meant for Hermione to give. But, now, she did understand that, where as she thought Minerva had been the pursuer, she realized, perhaps it was Hermione who had been all along. It made the decision to accept the marriage all the easier. However, there was still something left to be said.

Clearing her throat softly, Molly, too, sighed and gave it a moment of thought.

"Minerva, we both know we've been friends a long time, you've always and will always be welcome at our table, but, as she is my own, and has been for many years, if you ever break my daughter's heart again… As skilled a witch as you are, not even your vast knowledge will save you from a very angry Weasley woman."

A small smile curled the corner of Minerva's lips.

"For that, you will never have to worry." The Scottish witch said as she watched Molly ease back in her chair, finally relaxing. She was, for now, satisfied.

"Alright, well… Come now, help me finish dinner and we can eat and enjoy the rest of our evening as intended, hmm?" Molly pushed herself out from the table and began to rise, her hand reaching out to lay on top of Minerva's arm, giving it a squeeze, as emerald eyes watched the woman return to her state of calm. Of course, Minerva obliged and rose to follow her dear friend while downing the rest of her drink, thankful for the discomfort of a mother's threat to be over and seemingly dealt with.

There was never any doubt in her mind the kind of care, the level of commitment, the Weasley matriarch felt toward her young wife. It was something Minerva was grateful for. And as they chit chatted around a full stove, she told Molly as much and was somewhat surprised to find the woman wipe away a stray tear while giving thanks.

Around the dinner table the Weasley family sat with their closest friends and chosen family, Arthur raising his glass to toast to another year. Nothing needed to be said, only knowing glances were passed between them as glasses clinked together before the party began to tuck into another one of Molly's famous home cooked meals. There was no indication that anything out of the norm had occurred in their brief separation that night - Hermione never asked what Molly and Minerva talked about, and Minerva never brought it up -, but Minerva did seem to lean into her more, smile a bit more deeply, her touch lingering just a bit longer, regardless of pairs of eyes. Hermione could only revel in it.

When all compliments to the chef, and her helpers, had been paid, and tummies were stuffed with a good English roast dinner, they talked, laughed, reminisced, around the table for a while, still picking at various things despite being full enough to be rolled away from the kitchen. As usual, Hogwarts days always ended up some of the focus, and the memories they shared together. The good ones, at least; or, just some of the ones that were deemed rather amusing. In those moments, George and Angelina sat back and listened, for although George could talk about his brother now without shedding a tear, his heart ached when instinct was to turn to his left where his brother would have been. Knowing this, the younger witches and wizards kept it light, while Minerva, Molly, and Arthur listened and joined in with their two cents when the mood struck.

Even though some were gone, those who lost their lives in the trying times that had plagued them those many years ago, and for some even more recently, it almost felt like the old times when cares were few, threats fewer, and all they had to worry about were those familiar familial worries. Work, home life, friendship… Hermione gazed around the table at the faces of her friends, as her wife continued in animated conversation with Arthur and Molly, Harry, Ronald, Ginny, and George talking amongst themselves, the children leaning in to try and understand what the adults were chattering about, and she felt blessed. Time seemed to still in that moment and left her with her thoughts. Instinctively, she reached beneath the table and laid her hand on Minerva's thigh, squeezing her wife's leg with affection, and although she was gazing off elsewhere, she felt a hand lay atop her own and digits curling into her palm. It was Angelina who caught her eye, the women looked back and forth between one another, and although Angelina couldn't possibly have known what was playing behind brown eyes, the woman gave her a knowing smile as she saw an expression of real warmth spread across Hermione's features.

In moments like these, regardless of background or past hardship, family, in whatever form it took, was everything.

TBC