Oh yea, I'm on a roll! Keep reviewing guys, you are all excellent motivation!


Hermione woke, stiff, and had to blink several times to remember where she was, and with whom. She was curled up on a sofa with Minerva McGonagall, in the headmistress' quarters. The pair had talked for hours; cried some, laughed some, and eventually they must have fallen asleep, though Hermione didn't know who had drifted off first. She did suddenly realize, however, that for the first night since that day in Malfoy Manor, she had not had a nightmare.

Minerva stirred, also blinking in confusion, probably as to why she was not in her bed. "Hermione?" she muttered, turning her neck slightly and seeing the younger witch leaning on her chest.

"Morning," Hermione replied. "I guess we passed out."

"I guess so," Minerva agreed, shifting her position. "It's morning?"

Hermione looked out the window and saw the sun shining through, high in the sky. "Closer to afternoon, if I had to guess. I have no idea how late we stayed up talking."

"I wish we had at least solved some problems during our lengthy conversation," the older witch replied with half a grin. "It would make me feel a bit better about my stiff neck."

Hermione looked at Minerva, amused. She had not often heard the woman make jokes. She wondered if it was because of the oddity of the situation they were facing - whatever that was - or perhaps because she wasn't awake enough to have donned her typical no-nonsense mask. Hermione had always suspected that her now former professor had a more relaxed, jovial side, though she'd never seen too much evidence of it. Hermione had just had...a feeling.

Feeling...that word brought to memory Minerva's comment the previous evening about caring for her. What did that even mean? What type, what level of caring had Minerva been admitting to? Any other girl would have dismissed the comment as a maternal type of caring, but Hermione had years ago accepted that she was attracted to members of both sexes; men and women, that is. Having that type of openness meant that she approached any relationship with the question of 'could it be more?'.

Minerva had always struck Hermione as the same type of person...able to be attracted to a person, rather than a gender, which of course led Hermione now to the question again of what exactly Minerva had meant when she'd admitted to caring more than she should. Hermione wasn't egotistical in the least, but she was aware that she was a reasonably attractive young woman. If Minerva swung that way at all, it certainly wasn't out of the realms of possibility that she might be attracted to Hermione, though the young witch seriously doubted that the older woman would ever, ever make a move. She was too proper for that, and Hermione had until recently been a student of hers.

Of course, romantic relationships were the last thing on Hermione's mind right now, or at least they should be. She was pregnant. Pregnant because someone had raped her. Hell, raped by the same man who had raped Minerva...which ruled Minerva being attracted to her totally out, Hermione thought sadly. Minerva would never want to be with someone who had been with the man who destroyed her chance at ever having children. Minerva was a wise enough woman to not judge Hermione for what she'd had no control over, but that only extended to a point.

It then dawned on Hermione that she was disappointed at the notion that Minerva would never see her that way. Was she attracted to her?

Hermione watched as Minerva untangled the knots in her long, ebony hair. The woman had a timeless grace about her, and a rather seemly form. She was actually rather attractive. "You're beautiful," Hermione whispered, and then promptly put her hands over her mouth. She'd been so deep in thought she spoken out loud without thinking.

Minerva looked at her, eyebrow quirked. "Thank you, Hermione. That's kind of you to say, though I'm sure I look a fright with this tangled heap on my head."

"I hadn't meant to say that," Hermione blushed.

Minerva stopped fiddling with her hair and gave Hermione a piercing look. "Did you not mean it?"

Hermione gulped, knowing that there was no way out of this conversation, short of getting up and running out of the room, which as a Gryffindor, she was certainly not going to do. "I meant it. I was just inappropriate for me to say."

Minerva sighed, and leaned back against the couch. "Perhaps, perhaps not," she said quietly. "I'd say at this point, I've already crossed the line of appropriate between a teacher and student, telling you about what Lucius did to me, and the fact that I allowed you to fall asleep in my quarters, in my arms. I dare say it was your turn to push the boundaries."

Hermione wanted to ask what boundaries were left to cross, but she bit her tongue. She internally admitted that she did find Minerva attractive, mind and body, and should something more develop between them, she would not object. On the other hand, reality was that she had more important things to concentrate on right now, like the child growing inside of her, than the unlikely possibility of a relationship with woman beside her.

That in mind, Hermione scooted closer to Minerva, and resumed leaning against the older witch, the woman she had quite suddenly realized that she could easily fall in love with. "Hold me," she whispered, feeling completely lost and found at the same time, and knowing the later emotion had everything to do with the sense of safety that she had not felt in a very long time.


Question: Do you guys think that Minerva is being too calm about the level of appropriateness between them? My goal was to pass her attitude off by the fact that she's just waking up, rather than lead you all on to think that Minerva already realizes that she fancies Hermione. I want this story to be one of how thier relationship BECOMES more, not one of long hidden feelings that quite suddenly come out. Please review!