I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!

Chapter Four.

The night was still and silent. A half moon floated in the black sky covering the castle in a bright, white light. It shone through the windows, illuminating the rooms where tired witches and wizards snoozed. One witch lay wide awake on her back, staring blankly upward in her four-poster bed. A letter placed on her bed side table un-opened; She turned her head to look at the paper envelope for the tenth time that hour, wanting to open and read the unknown contents but knowing it best not to. She reached for it and gently brought it to her chest, the edges flittering as her heart knocked through her ribcage against the yellowy parchment. She looked at the inscription for the last time, and placed it beneath her pillow.

Minerva awoke startled, sitting bolt upright in bed. Her head swam with hyperventilation, a sweat all over her body soaking her bed clothes. She sat back sighing and biting her lip: It had been Hermione who she had been dreaming of, a steamy sort of situation. It had been wonderful at the time, but now, sitting alone in bed, Minerva hated it with all of her being.

Getting up for her usual morning shower and returning, feeling better for the cleanliness, she began to dress her usual teaching robes. Minerva caught sight of herself in the full length mirror that covered one of her wardrobe doors just as she was buttoning up the last of her emerald over-robes. Staring at herself, she touched her neck with her slender fingers and dragged them down toward her cleavage. Bringing the same hand to her face, she smoothed her cheek with the back of it, made a line across her top lip with her index finger and touched the other cheek with her palm. She had become old, and although her tall, slim figure from her youth had stayed with her, her body showed signs of an ever ageing woman. A tear dropped suddenly from the sparkling green eyes taking her by surprise: She was too late for love.

After another long day, Minerva finally made her way through the door of her private quarters, thankful that a fire had already been lit by the house elves. She unclipped her bun, her greying hair swooping down just above her bottom. She ran her fingers through it, ruffling and massaging her scalp. Moving through the living room, the candles striking a flame as she silently asked them to, Minerva padded her way into her bedroom to slip into her evening gown. She hung the emerald robes back in place, catching herself in the mirror again. She looked away immediately, swooping round to busy herself. And there it lay, the yellow envelope she had tried to forget all day. It dented the middle of the bed, and without thought Minerva picked it up and tore it open. A smile broadened on her face as she read the all too familiar writing

Dear Min,

I would like to thank you for your company last night, it is my hope that you enjoyed it as much as I. The Ministry is forever baring down on me, its private inquest I am working on forever on my mind. I love Ron and Harry and Ginny dearly, but I know that you understand the most. It is why I write this letter, to ask if you would come to my apartment Monday week for a drop of wine and a chat - I'm worried I shall go insane otherwise! You helped me so much through my OWLS and NEWTS, I'm now lacking your expert advice on my job. Please reply in writing, my owl will be waiting.

Your dear friend,

Hermione Granger

It was becoming almost humorous to Minerva how Hermione had somehow been able to stun her into silence yet again. She rested upon the edge of the four poster bed, her heart in her throat. Her young friend was asking for her help, her 'expert advise' on an all too knowingly difficult job, Hermione obviously needed Minerva...could she really refuse?

Hermione,

I am writing in response to the letter you kindly sent me – It would be an honour to join you in your time of need. Due to the ever demanding job as Headmistress, however, I shan't be able to join you until 8 in the eve; I do hope this suits your schedule.

Forward an address whenever you have time, I send my best wishes for the upcoming week in your heavy duty plans.

Take Care,

Minerva McGonagall

As she folded the parchment, slipped it into and envelope and wax sealed it with the McGonagall crest, Minerva's heart fluttered and she shook her head in disbelief of her own actions. As Hermione had stated, her owl had been waiting patiently outside of Minerva's bedroom window. Watching it take flight, she thought of the girl, and of her mother, whispering, "Oh, Hermione..."

The week had dragged, but as Minerva began the walk to Hogsmeade so as to apparate, it seemed to have gone much too fast for her liking. She had both looked forward to and dreaded the evening she would spend with Hermione, frightened by the feelings that may arise. She wanted more than anything to have a nice, quiet, relaxed evening with the young girl, and that's what she intended on doing. Walking a little more briskly, determined that her mind could conquer any feeling, she passed the shops into a quiet alley and turned on the spot.

As Minerva felt ground under her feet again, she drew a rasping breath. She leant against a near by lamp post and clutched her chest; it had been much too long since she had apparated, the closed and encasing feeling of suffocation frightening and stunning her more than usual. Taking slow steps as her breath returned to normal, and making a mental note to apparate more, she headed down a narrow street with high buildings. It was dark now, the yellow street lamps giving the world an unusual greyish hue.

"Number 8A, third row along." Minerva whispered to herself, pulling out the piece of parchment Hermione had written her address on from her breast pocket inside her robes.

Sure enough, third row along, a door was in sight. Rushing to it, she tried to open it, but to no avail. To her left was a small silver box; a circle made out of tiny dots sat upon it, with numbers below it. Reading through the list, she finally came to '8A', smiling that she had found the right address.

"I would like access to 8A, please." Minerva spoke into the dotted circle.

When no reply came, her brows furrowed in confusion. Looking down at the numbers again, a small white button sat next to '8A', and with much nervousness, Minerva pressed it. A low, quiet bell rung once, to be greeted with a cheery demeanour,

"Hello, 8A?"

"Hermione?" Minerva wondered out loud,

"Oh, Minerva! Hey!"

"Hermione, are you in that box?"

"No, no, Minerva. It's a telecom device, there's a wire that enables you to hear my voice... Look, it's freezing out there, come on up-"

"But I can't get in, the door is locked!"

"Try again! I've unlocked it!"

Sure enough, when Minerva tried the door again, with much doubt she must admit, it creaked open.

"My goodness, however did you do that?" She shouted back to the silver box, but Hermione didn't reply. Instead, Minerva heard shoes clopping down the stairs that stood before her at a fast pace, until finally the young witch with brunette curls all over her face and warm brown eyes came bouncing down to meet her.

Giggling slightly at the sight of Hermione, her muggle clothes of a black roll neck top and tight jeans, her hair awry as always, her face lit up in an elated pleasure to see her, Minerva found herself impounded by Hermione's embrace. She held the girl gently, swallowing hard on her emotions.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, eyes shut as she held onto her former Professor tightly.

She pulled back and took Minerva's face in her hands,

"I'm so glad you've come."

The last time they had been in this position, Minerva had received a kiss. Tonight, however, Hermione moved away, receding up the stairs and beckoning for Minerva to follow. It had felt strange to not have the feel of the young ones soft, warm lips to her own, and Minerva felt disheartened.

"Not far to go now." Hermione panted as they reached the third floor.

She led them down a dark corridor, where the lights lit as you walked beneath them, then turned off shortly after you had left them. Jangling her keys, Hermione fumbled with the lock and held the door open to Minerva.

Sheepishly peeping in, then stepping inside the small flat, Minerva immediately felt homely and comfortable. It was quant with a modern twist, quite what she would have expected of Hermione. The living room and dining was open plan, a small kitchen set off to the side. A corridor to the right indicated bathroom and bedroom.

"Let me take your cloak." Hermione whispered, unclasping Minerva's broach and pushing it off of her shoulders. Minerva stepped further into the living room, a bottle of red wine and two large glasses already set out on the coffee table sat in front of the settee.

Minerva rubbed her hands together, both to allow feeling back into them and to avoid awkward eye contact with the young witch whom was returning from the coat stand.

"Wine? You can sit down, Minerva. It's my home, I want you to feel welcome, please make yourself comfortable." Hermione said, uncorking the bottle and pouring lusciously red liquid into the large glasses.

Minerva sunk into the sofa, crossing her legs and sighing as she closed her eyes in contentment.

"That's better." Hermione smiled, lifting Minerva's hand to capture the glass.

"But the point is, regardless of intellect or not, common sense surely is the best way forward to our solution." Hermione argued, taking a large sip from her glass.

"I know, but sometimes people can't be convinced by sense, dear." Minerva answered, looking at the young witch now slumped down in the armchair adjacent to the settee.

"I know, but why! Why must people be so difficult?" She asked gruffly filling her glass again, much like that of an angry 4 year old who hadn't got an ice cream. Minerva laughed at the delightful frown that had crossed Hermione's face, and knowing she had got a little caught up in the moment, Hermione laughed too.

"It's an interesting conversation, isn't it: people?" Hermione pondered, "I mean, everyone is different, everyone is special in their own way. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that..." She began to refill Minerva's glass, "I expect you've met a few odd ones in your time at Hogwarts, me included! God, all those nights I spent revising-"

"Oh, Hermione! How could you say such a thing?" Exclaimed Minerva; Hermione stopped pouring the wine, "You are an exceptional young witch, with talents beyond any I know. I have seen you flourish from a smart little girl to a bright and attractive young woman. You are kind and helpful to others, you take all burden and responsibility from your friends, you were and still are my model student, the very person I mark my current students against. It was an honour you were sorted into Gryffindor, for you to be under my wing." Hermione's face grew ever redder, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

She'd placed the bottle down half way through Minerva's speech, resting her elbow on her knees and leaning her chin on her hand. Silence fell between them, the fire crackling quietly.

"I'm not sure what to say, Minerva. Thank you..." Hermione whispered, as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She laughed at her foolishness and continued to pour the wine.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to upset you." Minerva said, barely audibly. To see Hermione's eyes grow larger and glossier with tears was heart wrenching. It took her whole will to stop her from moving closer and holding the young witch tighter than ever before. She'd tried to stop the blurb from coming out, feeling it rise from her stomach, into her chest and out through her vocal chords. It felt so right to say those things about Hermione, meaning every word that had escaped from her mouth.

"It's alright, you didn't upset me." Hermione replied, standing up and stretching, then moving onto the settee next to Minerva.

She placed a hand on Minerva's crossed leg, which made the elder witch twitch slightly. Her breathing became shorter and her heart hammered, but she tried to ignore her bodies reaction.

"Just surprised, that's all."

"Why choose to be surprised?"

"Well, I suppose... I didn't know I was that significant to you." Hermione answered honestly.

"Then, perhaps, I should rethink how smart you are." Minerva smiled.

"Perhaps you should." Hermione laughed.

"You are significant to me, Hermione. And very special, indeed."

"As you are to me, Minerva. I don't think I know anyone quite like you"

"Is this a good thing?"

"Absolutely grand." Hermione replied, squeezing Minerva's knee.

Without warning, and no time for Minerva to react, Hermione had leant her head upon the elder's shoulder and barely kissed the small amount of neck that was accessible. Minerva's eyes widened as Hermione rested on her, oblivious to the effect this was having on her. Minerva closed her eyes and bit her lip, reminded of the steamy dream she'd had the night before last; it seemed nearly every other night they occurred. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, which Hermione seemed to ignore.

Minerva could hear Hermione's breathing becoming deeper, a sure sign she was falling asleep. Awfully uncomfortable, her senses heightened from the contact, Minerva shifted slightly which woke Hermione. She made a noise in her throat of protest then added sleepily,

"Would you like to stay the night?"

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long guys, I promise I'll try harder! hope you like, let me know!