Multi-chapter fic! I make zero promise on update schedules.
"Minerva," The name came out perhaps a bit breathier than Hermione Granger had intended but it wouldn't have mattered how she said it, of that she was certain. The Scottish witch undoubtedly would have stiffened all the same. The boundaries had been very clear from the beginning of the impromptu mentoring that had begun.
"I did not give you permission to refer to me so informally, Miss Granger." Ah, there was that infamous Scottish ire. At least it was a reaction that Hermione understood. It was far better than the frozen, shell-shocked one she had been displaying up until that moment. Slowly it turned from a fiery look Hermione didn't quite recognize to something cold and shuttered.
"We did just kiss." Hermione offered, biting her lip, a little unsure at this point.
"No, Miss Granger. I believe you kissed me. Which I also decidedly did not give you permission to you." Minerva's eyes were no longer wide in surprise and instead seemed to be narrowing at a harrowing rate. Her lips were also thinning rather rapidly. Neither of which Hermione knew were good things. "Get out." The harshness of the voice was something the younger witch would have expected from Severus Snape, certainly not of the woman sitting there in front of her. "Now." Minerva hissed.
"Do not come back." Minerva stood hastily, waving her wand in the direction of the door to fling it open widely for the young brunette. Her hasty actions caused the tea tray on the table in front of them to upend violently. Tea sprayed the room and porcelain crashed onto the cold stone floors of the castle. Any bravery Hermione felt in that moment shrank to nothing and an overwhelming feeling of despair grew quickly in its place. This was not how she had pictured this moment. The thrill she had felt feeling soft lips against hers could not dampen the despair that had started to settle in her chest. She had been sure that the woman had leaned into the kiss, that she had even kissed her back but now she was sure of nothing other than the fact that she couldn't breathe. She had to get out of this room. She had to get away from Minerva bloody McGonagall. There was absolutely no way that she could stay another second longer. Gryffindor courage fled but that desperate primal urge to flee was enough for her to stumble to her feet, not heeding the broken porcelain, not caring that it was crunching loudly under her feet. All she could hear was her own thundering heart, certain that the noise was it tearing itself into little pieces. Her eyes were wet with tears, turning chocolate brown to a muddy river. Not trusting herself to speak, she turned and ran. Hermione ran through the corridors, ran on the uneven stone floors of the castle, stumbling more than once but somehow managing to stay on her feet and keep going. Desperation and that ever-damning despair fueled her forward. She ran down the staircases, not caring when they started to shake and barely making the landing to the next floor. She kept running, past the concerned faces of professors, past students whispering behind their hands at the head girl's dramatics, past the ghosts, and through the castle doors. Hermione Granger did not stop running until she tripped over a tree root in the forbidden forest and landed face first in a pile of dirt, feeling a sharp pain as the glass of her time turner shattered and pressed into her skin.
Suddenly she was falling again. Falling, falling, falling. When the world stopped spinning, Hermione pressed her face into the mud and sobbed heavily until she could cry no more. Just as she was pushing off the ground to move into a slightly more dignified position, she heard someone approaching and tensed.
The unknown entity offered her a hand, a slender, feminine and youthful one at that. "Hello, are you alright?" Hermione had already grasped the hand before the words registered and when they did her eyes flew up to meet green ones. The last time she had seen those eyes they had been narrowed in disgust. Now they only showed concern and curiosity.
"I'm Minerva McGonagall. I don't recognize you." Hermione's eyes took in the sight before her and she was suddenly falling, falling, falling, once again. This time it was into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness. Having her heart broken and then meeting the seventeen year old version of the one who did it was too much to handle even for Gryffindors. Hermione's last conscious thought was that the darkness was blissfully empty and had she been aware of what happened next she may have chosen to remain conscious just a few moments longer so that she could know what it was to be cradled in the arms of the witch she loved. Even if that witch didn't know who she was.