Minerva exited her bedroom wearing a pair of olive drab cargo pants and boots similar to the ones Hermione had purchased the day before. A black long sleeved shirt completed the outfit, but she carried a thick woolen jumper to ward off any chill in the Highlands. Hermione was dressed similarly, her jeans tucked into her boots, a light zip up sweatshirt covering her plum t-shirt.
"Do you have anything warmer, mo cridhe. The winds coming off the loch can be cold, even in August."
"Only my old school robes."
"I have just the thing, then." She returned to her bedroom, opened her wardrobe and withdrew a tartan coat. She handed it to Hermione.
"This should do nicely." Hermione pulled the coat on. It was loose and made of fine woven wool, sort of like a shawl with sleeves and a cowl. It didn't have buttons, or a zipper, but fastened magically, like Minerva's robes. When the front was closed, the emerald and black and thin red and yellow stripes of the tartan were perfectly aligned. Minerva drew the cowl over Hermione's hair and kissed the young woman's forehead.
Minerva hefted the large picnic basket Tilley had left on the coffee table. She crooked her other arm for Hermione and the girl took her arm. They disapparated.
They came back into being on a low, green hill overlooking a long narrow lake. An imposing granite outcropping loomed over one edge of the scene.
"Oh, Minnie. It's lovely." Hermione sucked in a lungful of the cool Highland air.
"Mmmmmm. This is one of my favorite spots on this earth. My estate is two hills back that way." She gestured back over her shoulder. "We can head that way when we finish eating. I have arranged for us to spend a few nights there, if you are amenable."
"I most certainly am amenable, Ms. McGonagall." Minerva placed the basket on the ground and tapped it with her wand. From the basket sprung a blanket, which settled itself on the ground. A variety of serving dishes leapt out to arrange themselves on the blanket.
"Voila and bon appetit, my dear." They both sat down on the blanket. Minerva poured Hermione a mug of chocolate from a thermos. Everything that Tilley had provided for lunch was finger food; meat, cheese and greens wrapped in flat bread, a large thermos of vegetable soup with sipping mugs, crudite, bite sized baclava and fruit tarts. Hermione reached for the baclava first.
"Ms. Granger! I do not believe those were intended to be the first course!" Hermione snagged one anyway and bit into it, enjoying the crisp filo dough and the sweet honey and nuts in the center.
"Mmmmmm. My favorite." She licked the last of the filling off her fingers then bit into a sandwich roll.
As they ate, Minerva told Hermione about the history of Loch Maree and about growing up on its shores. By the time she left for Hogwarts, she had explored every island in the Loch. When she was fourteen and home on summer break, Minerva met the muc-sheilche, the giant freshwater eel that lived in the lake. Apparently, it thought overturning her little skiff was a good lark.
Once the dishes had been packed away, and the basket banished, they lay side by side on the blanket, pinkies touching. The sky was a washed out blue, and a brisk Scottish wind pushed fluffy, cumulus clouds across the lake and over the horizon.
They talked until the sun started to dip below the horizon. Minerva shouldn't have been surprised that Hermione's recall of first and second year transfiguration exercises was perfect, and that her study of transfiguration theory outstripped what would have been available in the average wizarding library. Hermione was definitely not surprised that Minerva had dry observations to impart about almost everyone they knew, though it was pleasant to find out that despite her sharp sense of humor, the older witch genuinely liked almost every one.
Minerva levered herself off the blanket covered mat of sedges and grass, helped Hermione do the same, and threw the blanket around both their shoulders. Shoulders close, hands clasped, they strolled away from the lake, in the direction Minerva had indicated earlier.
As they crested the next hill, Hermione could see a large granite manor house nestled in the valley before them. There was no drive, but a broad expanse of grass surrounded the house on all sides, and a hedge could be seen peeking out from behind the house. It was beautiful. And isolated. And warm, yellow light spilled out across the darkening lawn from nearly every window.
"Tilley seems to have turned on a few lights in preparation for our arrival. I expect that there will be an enormous meal waiting for us, as well."
"I wouldn't expect anything less from dear Tilley. I suspect she will have to let my new pants out before long."
"We are under the strictest of doctor's orders to ensure you eat heartily and often, Ms. Granger." She grinned at the young witch, her white teeth flashing in the gloaming. "And I can assure you that Tilley takes doctor's orders much more seriously than I ever have." Hermione snorted.
As they neared the house, the front door swung open and a small silhouette stood backlighted in the vestibule. Its hands were on its hips. Minerva cringed.
"She'll boss ya as much as your own mathair, 'Mione. Be sure to boss right back." There was laughter and infinite good humor in her voice. Hermione couldn't help but smile into the dusk.
Tilley waited until they mounted the steps to lay into Minerva, sounding every inch a scolding mother. She questioned Minerva's good sense heartily for taking a fragile girl out on the chilly moors with the sun setting.
Minerva scolded her right back. She maybe cavalier about her own health, but she would never endanger Hermione. Tilley knows very well that the coat is spelled for warming and dryness. Minerva is a grown woman thank you very much, and is perfectly capable of walking from the Loch to the house on a summer evening.
Hermione laughed at them until tears streamed down her cheeks.
By the time the mutual, but affectionate, tirades were complete, Hermione was settled into a wicker bottomed kitchen chair with a mug of hot chocolate. Apparently she wasn't allowed tea, though Minerva had her long fingers wrapped around a tartan ceramic mug of the stuff. Tilley bustled around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on what looked to be a large roast turkey, a pan of dressing and a skillet of lightly seared string beans.
As she cooked, Tilley ranted about the temerity of men - Aurors and Ministers and boyfriends alike, punctuating her points with bastes of the bird or swishes of the skillet.
"She's worried about you," Minerva leaned over and whispered to Hermione. Tilley scowled at her.
"I used to get in trouble for whispering to cousins at the table," Minerva said conversationally. Tilley scowled again.
"You were and are enough trouble for four girls, Minerva McGonagall, and if you don't behave, I'm going to start telling tales on you."
"I am always well behaved, Tilley McGonagall." Minerva sniffed haughtily.
"Oh, truly? What about the time you put a super-slickness charm on the chairs around that very table? Or the time you charmed this very cookware to play the percussion parts from one of Beethoven's symphonies whenever someone said the word 'supper'?"
"Youthful hijinks, Tilley. The young deserve some leniency, a fact I am well acquainted with."
"You pulled those tricks on me last Christmas, Minerva McGonagall," Tilley said with outrage in her voice.
Hermione laughed so hard that her stomach cramped up.
After supper, Minerva escorted Hermione to the library that occupied the entire eastern half of the manor's first and second floors. The fire in the hearth and the ornate glasses sconces lit the room well and gave the wood of the shelves and floor a burnished glow. The first floor was dominated by a large table (for research, Hermione presumed) and the set of squashy looking furniture in front of the fireplace. A second floor walkway railed in wrought iron circled the room above their heads.
Hermione smirked at Minerva. "Would it be presumptuous of me to say this meets my expectations exactly?"
"I come by my obsession with books honestly, Hermione. It might even be encoded into the McGonagall DNA." Hermione giggled at Minerva's serious expression.
"You laugh now, but they'll start multiplyin' and spread into your space and you'll be trippin' over 'em and findin' 'em in the tub."
"I take your warning under advisement, Minnie, but you're talking to a girl who twisted her parents' arms to get them to put a bookshelf in the bathroom." Minerva threw her head back and let out a brief shout of laughter.
"Well, I shall take that under advisement, my dear little fox."
A gruff voice came from the walkway around the second floor shelves: "Is that my little Minerva? Where've you been, lass?"
"Hello, da." She pantomimed a rectangular shape around her torso and Hermione nodded in comprehension. The elder McGonagall was a portrait "I've been working, da. Term starts in little more than a week." She took Hermione's hand and pulled her towards the curling staircase in the corner of the library.
Mr. McGonagall's portrait hung on the exposed brick of the chimney, looking out over the library and onto the moors beyond the bank of windows that made up the outer wall of the house. The man himself was as broad shouldered as his daughter, with the same extraordinary green eyes, though his hair and neatly trimmed beard were a steely gray. He was painted from mid-torso up, wearing what appeared to be a muggle business suit from the 1940's or 50's.
"And who is this bonny young lady?" The man in the portrait leaned forward and the familiarity of his green eyes gave Hermione a shiver.
"Stop flirtin', da." She rolled her eyes at her father; he flirted with absolutely everyone. "'Mione, this is my father, Ewan McGonagall. Da, this is Hermione Granger, a teaching apprentice at Hogwarts, and my friend and Transfiguration apprentice."
"Ah! One of them that hunted down the horcruxes. Nasty business, that."
"The nastiest, sir" Even thinking about the soul splitting magics made Hermione's skin crawl and she leaned into Minerva's side. The older witch wrapped a warm arm around her waist. Ewan arched an eyebrow at them and Minerva arched one right back, daring her father to say something. Hermione wanted to chuckle, but she could only blush.
"We're going to retire for the night, da. I was only showing Hermione the house." She gestured for Hermione to precede her down the narrow balcony. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, da; we're staying a few days."
"Sleep well, lassies."
Minerva was about to lead Hermione to the guest room next to her master suite on the second floor when the fierce blush and shy look in the young witch's eyes stopped her.
"Should I assume that sharin' my bed will be default from now on, 'Mione? When you have to ask you blush so hard it looks fair painful." Minerva teased. Hermione's cheeks reddened further.
"I don't want to be presumptuous, Minnie, but I can't bear sleeping without you." Minerva pulled the slender body into hers and Hermione tucked her face into the taller woman's chest and slid her arms around her waist.
"I think we both know what is happening between us, little fox. And I could not be happier; I have never been happier, and I want nothing more than for you to share my bed every night, ok?" She felt the young woman nod. "And maybe things are a little out of order, but remember there is literally no historical precedent for a romantic relationship between animagi." Hermione pulled back a little to look into Minerva's eyes, a contemplative expression her face. Then she snorted.
"Minerva McGongall; breaking new ground professionally and personally," she said, a cheeky grin turning up the corners of her mouth.
"Sassy witch." Hermione nodded in agreement and tucked her head back over Minerva's heart. She could feel the threads of love stretching between herself and the precious woman holding her and she sighed happily.