The first day of the term was rushed and awkward feeling. Everyone was excited to be back and resistant to getting on with work. Hermione managed to ignore the chatter during her classes, keeping her nose down and trying not to bring any attention to herself. Most people didn't pay her any mind at all, but there was still a few (particularly between classes) who would point her out as The Girl Who Knows Harry Potter. Mostly these were first and second years, but sometimes others who knew Harry and Ron would ask how they were. She was used to this now and usually suggested they ask Ginny who didn't mind the attention so much. The Weasley girl was practically famous in her own right for her quidditch abilities and brazenness.
During her breaks Hermione went to the library and sat with Luna who seemed quiet even for her. After classes were finished for the day they sat in near silence, Hermione working on her Arithmacy homework and Luna on something that wasn't about school. She wondered if the quiet between them was about her turning down the invitation for Christmas, but before she could ask Luna was gone.
The headmistress was having dinner in the Great Hall, so she wasn't available for their usual meal together, but Hermione felt this was for the best. Since she had admitted to the older woman that Ron suspected something their conversations no longer came naturally. She blamed herself. Why would she say those things? Sitting in her room she knew why. She felt things, strange, beautiful, but forbidden things for her teacher and a part of her wanted to admit them. This would be an awful mistake, though. It was best for all involved if her feelings remained a secret. A deep, dark secret that would never see the light of day. The thought of harbouring an unrequited love hurt, but it was better than the other option of admitting it out loud and being denied. Right?
Hermione sighed. She was sitting on her bed, wand in hand trying to perfect a spell to turn a goblet into smoke which was much more difficult than turning it into something solid. The charm required all her attention, but she had very little of that these days. Her thoughts were churning as always, forming a deep well of regret and embarrassment that she couldn't escape. Frustration peaked into rage and her spell went awry, blasting the goblet into a shower of glittering dust. She hadn't meant to. Panicking, she rushed from her bed, throwing spell after spell at the silver powder on her floor trying to return the item back to its natural state. Swearing loudly at her failed attempts, she dropped to the floor and suppressed a scream with the crook of her arm.
After calming down, Hermione sat on her bed, unable to muster any more energy. She had other work to finish and could definitely improve upon what she had already written, but there was no motivation. For the first six years of her life at Hogwarts she got along on her drive to succeed and not be seen as a failure or a mistake, but now she could barely summon the energy to put a quill to parchment. Sitting back on her bed, she pulled her knees up to her chest and felt her stomach lurch. I'm going to be sick.
She was distracted from the pitching in her stomach by a scratching sound she had become accustomed to. She stumbled from her bed, hands out in front of her, legs confused, as she toppled towards her desk. At the last moment she caught herself and pulled herself up. The window latch screeched in complaint from the cold but gave in. There was a gust of cold wind and the cat pounced into the room as she shut the window. Hermione swept the cat into her arms and it purred, not minding the crushing embrace. The sickness was gone and was immediately replaced by the warmth that only the vibrations emanating from the creature could create.
"I've missed you, kitten," she murmured as she carried it back to her bed, sitting with her legs curled beneath her. "I don't know what I would do without you."
The cat was happy to let her stroke it for the length she did, purring its pleasure at the affection. The goblet was forgotten and the day didn't seem so bad now. Like a safety blanket, the warm weight of the cat anchored Hermione, her thoughts no longer tormenting her. She really didn't know how she could cope if the cat had never appeared. She smiled, unmoving.
The cat's satisfied purring lulled her and soon she was ready to prepare for sleep. It was still early in the evening, but the sun was set and she was confident she wouldn't dream so long as she took the potion. Careful not to disturb her pet, she reached over to the nightstand where the Potion for Dreamless Sleep was sitting atop a piece of parchment. She hesitated. Ink was moving about on the paper beneath the vial. The map. Whether intentionally or not, Hermione had pushed it from her mind. Lifting the bottle, she slipped the paper out, her heart thudding heavily. The cat was oblivious to the significance of it.
Hermione ran her finger over the parchment until she found two named knitted together, but clearly printed.
Her throat tightened as she stared in shock. "Oh my god," she whispered, eyes widening. The cat lifted its head, but she was already standing, pushing it from her lap. Forest green eyes watched her. The colour should have been proof enough, but no. She was still stubbornly clinging to the possibility it was a mistake.
The sickness returned worse than ever and she felt her lungs struggle to breathe in panic. "It's not true." She forced the words from her throat, looking directly at the cat. Minerva. It couldn't be true. McGonagall, her friend with whom she shared so much had spectacle shaped markings around her animagus' eyes. "Tell me it's not true." It- she cocked her head in confusion. "Minerva." At the name the cat's eyes widened slightly in recognition. The game was over.
Her mind reeled in shock and numbness engulfed her. Shaking her head, Hermione backed away from the bed towards the door. The map fell to the floor, two names separating slowly. Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall. The cat, the animagus, whatever, jumped to the floor and approached the map, squinting at it.
Hermione ran. She had to prove to herself that it wasn't true. Minerva would never betray her trust like that. The map lies. Her denial was weakening. Of course it was true, but she had to know for sure, as if this wasn't proof enough.
Her lungs strained in her chest and her muscles complained. Her heart was hammering so loud she could hear it and the portraits streaking either side of her blurred together as tears formed and fell. It wasn't a long run, but her body was tired and hungry and complained the whole way. Finally she reached the gargoyle and panted the password, forcing herself to complete the last leg up the stairs and through the headmistress' office. A door to the bedroom and she was there. No one was there.
Breathing heavily, she wiped her eyes and looked around. On a desk was a single pair of glasses. She snatched them up. This was how she got away with it. How very Clark Kent. She couldn't deny it any longer. There were no opposing facts she could grasp, nothing for her stubbornness to cling to in hope. Minerva was the cat. Their friendship was built on lies.
"Hermione," the voice made her spin around. Minerva stood, breathless as well, her face naked without her spectacles, "I can explain."
"Explain?" Hermione's voice was high and hysterical, "Explain what?" She held up the glasses, waving them.
"Please, 'Mione, I know it looks bad, but I have a good reason." How could she remain so calm?
Hermione shook her head. She didn't want to hear any excuses. This was a betrayal greater than anything Hermione had experienced before. This was inexcusable.
"You- you-" her words were failing her. She reiterated what she already knew. "It was you all along."
"Yes."
Minerva took a step forward and Hermione stumbled back. She couldn't think clearly. Her mind was still stuck on the fact their whole friendship was a lie. At last her thoughts presented a new horror. She recoiled, shuddered, gaped. "I told the cat- I told you things." She was breathless.
"I know, I didn't mean for it to be like this." Still so calm, still advancing slowly.
"No, you didn't mean for me to find out! Oh my god," she muttered in realisation, "Harry was right. Ron was right." She laughed manically. Fucking Ron was right. He wasn't paranoid at all! "How could I be so stupid?"
"Darling-"
"No, don't… don't say that. Don't call me that. They were right. They knew. Hell…" she stammered, finally admitting to herself, "I knew. A part of me knew. I'm so stupid."
"Please," Minerva moved towards her again, reaching out for her arm, "just let me tell you why."
Hermione shuddered a silent sob. "I told you I love you. I told you that and you still did it." She squeezed her eyes closed, not wanting to look at her betrayer. Her friend. Her mind was clouding, terrible thoughts and memories. All the progress she had made against them was crumbling. She had to get out.
"I didn't mean for it to-"
A hand touched her shoulder and Hermione screamed. The floodgate of her anguish broke at last. An explosion of energy radiated from her, thrusting Minerva away violently. The shock wave of magic radiated outward in blue light. Glass exploded, mirrors and windows becoming fragments that cut into their faces and arms. When Hermione opened her eyes again, the other woman was on the ground looking at her with fear. There was no time for regret or to wonder at what happened. She panicked.
Dropping the shattered glasses, she streaked from the room, moving fluidly as if she was moving by magic alone and left Minerva on a floor of broken glass.
A/N: I hope this chapter wasn't a disappointment. The angst shall continue for a couple more chapters and will reach its peak. Thanks for all the lovely messages!
