(AN: doesn't have strikethrough so -this- is intended to be struck out.)

Cowardice


Minerva rose before the sun and her first thoughts were of Hermione, the way her warm body had relaxed into hers. A stab of guilt forced her to move, navigating her rooms in the dark. There was too much to do and not enough time to think emotionally. Bathing and dressing, she told herself it wasn't cowardly, it was smart. As soon as there was time she would pull Hermione aside, sit her down and explain her actions logically.

No lights came on as she moved from her private quarters to the office, pausing for a moment. She had time. She had to consult the house elves and see that the thestrals would be ready on time. She had to see that Hagrid was prepared with the boats and that her end-of-semester speech was okay. She had so much to do, but she always had time for Hermione. There was time time now. Moving on silent feet, she went to the bed with the slumbering woman and lowered herself on the side. Peaceful, beautiful, frightening. Readying herself, she put a hand on Hermione's shoulder and was given the smallest of unconscious smiles. Her heart thundered as she drew away again, taking a moment to adjust the blankets. Hermione would be exhausted after her late night. It wasn't right to wake her so early. She softly drew a knuckle down the girl's cheek and stood again. It wasn't cowardly, it was considerate.


Hermione jerked awake, the memory of Minerva's hand on her skin. There was a bowl of porridge on the stand beside her bed, loaded with honey the way she liked, and mid-morning light was pouring through the window. She was late. Swearing, she threw herself from the bed and transfigured it back into a couch. Where was McGonagall? Checking the time (nearly nine o'clock) she knew the headmistress would be in the Great Hall wrapping up the last breakfast of the semester. At nine fifteen there would be a meeting for the teachers, and Head Boy and Girl to ready them for the day. She pulled on the clothes at the top of her suitcase and grabbed her wand.

Her brain was full of activity, memories of the night before and questions of why her friend hadn't woken her to talk about it. The usual thoughts mocked her for expecting anything else but there wasn't time to debate with herself. She was late.

Streaking through the halls her pace only slowed when she hit the wall of Ravenclaw students. She grunted and pushed through, ignoring the murmurs of how rude and is that Hermione.

She made it just in time. The others were already assembled in the room behind the Great Hall and Hermione was the last through the door. The other students smiled at her politely but Minerva avoided looking at her. Their night together hung between them unspoken and there was nothing the younger Gryffindor wanted than to take her aside. She needed to know what it was that was there. She needed to know if her feelings were returned. It pained her to not even be acknowledged.

It was hard to keep her mind on the words being said at her. She never stopped staring at her friend hoping she would look at her just once. She didn't.

The Head of Houses stayed a while longer with McGonagall at their head and Hermione was forced to leave. The Head Boy told her about his holiday plans but she wasn't listening. They parted ways and she dragged her feet back to the office to wait for the other woman. Her bags were gone, probably transported to the train so she had nothing to do but sit and wait.

Minerva had promised time for them to talk, but Hermione could hear an invisible clock counting down the hours and minutes until she had to leave. She began to fret. Her nails picked at the sleeves of her jumper and her teeth picked at the skin beside her nails. She curled one leg under her, pulling the other up so she could hold it, her eyes moving around the room. None of the portraits would look at her, except Snape whose sneer was gloating.

"You were always an awful person," she grumbled at him, satisfied when he still couldn't speak.

Three hours turned to two. By the time it was midday she knew Minerva wasn't coming. Anger and desperation began to well up behind her eyes and the thoughts in her mind flurried around the woman's absence. She had believed Minerva had meant something when she kissed her, had seen something more than just friendly affection. Had she been wrong? Maybe her own feelings and the desire to be wanted had tricked her into seeing an illusion. Maybe it had been a knee-jerk reaction to seeing her on the ledge. That didn't seem right, but her mind hooked onto it. It was only when her barely-there nails began to pick at her scar that she stood up.

She paced in circles around the office, trying to turn off the thoughts. On her ninth rotation she stopped at the desk, looking down at the pot of quills and variety of inks. Her hands shook as she took a piece of blank parchment. She didn't know what she was going to write, but her hands moved on their own. Words formed themselves without her thinking, coming from somewhere that was her but not her.

Dear Minerva,

I want to apologise for my actions last night. They were -emotional- -impulsive- presumptuous and I should never have put you in that situation. I am -sorry- so very sorry for everything. I consider you my close friend and I never want to ruin our friendship.

-Love,-

-Forever yours,-

-Yours,-

The tip of the quill tore throw the paper and Hermione stared at it. Her chest ached. She still didn't understand. Forcing herself to breathe calmly, she peacock feather aside and took the letter in her hands, tearing it into quarters and scrunching up the piece to drop into the bin. She couldn't stay in the room any longer. Minerva wasn't coming.

Her pace was brisk and her back was straight giving nothing of her internal thoughts away. She knew that all the other students would remain in their common rooms for head-count until the Prefects led them to the carriages. She would meet them there and help board them. With nothing to do except think, she made her way to the thestrals. Rounding the lake she could hear the whinnying of the horse-like creatures and she slowed her speed until she saw them.

There were fourteen that she could count, gruesome in appearance but no longer as frightening as the first time she had seen them. Her swirling emotions dimmed as she walked amongst the creatures, their presence almost mollifying. The carriages were stationary behind each pair, but the animals looked nervous. Hermione approached the nearest pair and their white eyes rolled to look at her. She halted, held out her hand and moved a little closer.

The one in front of her snuffled in her open hand, looking for a treat. She gently put her hand on its nose. It shifted, but didn't seem to mind. She ran her fingers down its neck, the ridges of its bones prominent through its leathery black skin.

She moved among the gentle winged creatures until she heard the mass of eager teenagers being herded by Professors Sprout and Flitwick. Hermione stood to the side trying to look like she knew what she was doing. She knew Minerva wouldn't be amongst them but her eyes tried to find her anyway. Shoving her emotions aside, she helped to organise the students into groups and loaded them into the carriages. It took several trips, but she finally got to board the last carriage with a couple of third years.

The train station came into view after far too long. The students Hermione had been sharing with quarrelled the whole way. She climbed down and waved at the Head Boy who had been helping everyone board the train. The platform was mostly bare, students already in their compartments. Ginny and Luna were gone, as were the prefects. Left watching were a couple of teachers- Hagrid, Flitwick, and McGonagall.

Hermione waited until the Head Boy had boarded before intentionally looking at Minerva. She felt like she was trembling, but she needed to say something, anything. She didn't know if she could make it through the week without knowing.

The headmistress looked away from her companions, her shoulders stiffening when she saw the waiting girl. She said something and started towards Hermione who jutted her chin out to keep it from wobbling. Her throat felt dry.

"You said we would talk."

"I know, Hermione, I'm sorry."

The younger witch waited for a beat before speaking again, her voice still quiet. "Isn't this where you start making excuses?"

"No. No excuses. I could have taken you aside a hundred times today."

"Why, then?" There was a tone of pleading that couldn't be hidden.

"Because I'm not always brave. I need this time away from you to think. You need it, too. When you get back I promise-"

"We'll talk." Hermione couldn't help shaking her head with disbelief. She didn't know if it was the truth or if she was being mollified. Either way, it stung.

"Stay safe, Hermione."

She couldn't say goodbye. She couldn't pretend like it didn't hurt. Hermione took two steps backwards before turning to the train, making it on seconds before the conductor gave the last call. Her feet moved without feeling, wandered down the carriages seemingly without end. She didn't even notice when she had sat down.


AN: This is another franken-chapter which had 15000 words worth of alternatives. McG wrote a note, HG didn't, HG got angry, McG was in denial, blahblahblah... I also had it saved under different names involving "Cowardly Lion". The next chapters are at the Burrow so I might double them up and/or post twice in a week so there isn't too much of a wait for Hermione to get back.