Warning: Some Pottermore spoilers are contained in this chapter pertaining to Minerva's background. You are warned!

A/N: Just an update-I have finished writing the story, and it is, in fact, twelve chapters. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and comments. They truly do make a huge difference.

Chapter 6

Activating the port-key, Hermione stood still as she apparated in front of a grand, sprawling stone structure set upon a gentle slope of land. A gentle breeze washed over Hermione as she stared at McGonagall Manor. At least three floors in height, Hermione could only guess that it held a large number of rooms. It looked historic but not unkempt. Stone lions flanked the front steps, their eyes following Hermione as she approached the thick wooden entrance door. Before she could knock, the door unlatched and creaked open, a house elf appearing before her with a curtsy.

"The Mistress is expecting you." The elf stood aside and gestured for Hermione to enter.

As she crossed the threshold, Hermione felt a wave of energy rush through her. She looked up toward a sweeping staircase and noted Minerva's family crest and tartan design on the wall. Looking around curiously, she saw a drawing room to the right, a formal dining room to the left, and a hallway leading to the back of the house in front of her. Before she could investigate further, the elf addressed her once more.

"Please, this way. The Mistress will join you shortly." Hermione was led into the large drawing room. Hardwood floors were covered with beautiful rugs, the designs rich and complex. Hermione sat in a comfortable leather wingback chair near one of the windows and patiently waited for her hostess. She refused the offer of libations, preferring to wait for Minerva.

"Thank you…" Hermione quirked an eyebrow in obvious question.

"Elsa," the house elf replied with another small curtsy. Hermione smiled.

"Thank you, Elsa," Hermione said with a nod.

Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in every decoration, every fabric, every article that created the feeling of warmth, strength, and comfort. The room reminded her of Minerva, unsurprisingly. A gasp cued her to the other witch's arrival, and Hermione slowly raised her eyes to see Minerva's shocked face. Hermione jutted her chin forward while maintaining eye contact, even as her mind shouted out in despair, She hates it!

"Hermione," Minerva whispered as she approached. She pulled Hermione out of her chair and held her by the shoulders firmly as she continued to stare. "My God. You look so different!" Hermione remained still as Minerva tilted her elegant head this way and that, staring and blinking. A trembling hand reached out to cup Hermione's cheek, turning her head to the side and holding it in position for a few moments before gently turning it back to face her.

"Minerva?" Hermione said. This was killing her, absolutely killing her. She had to know what Minerva thought.

"It is breathtaking." Dilated pupils stared into widening eyes. "Hermione. What possessed you to cut your hair?"

Hermione shrugged while fighting off a blush. Satisfaction flowed through her, now that she realized how Minerva approved of her new hairdo. It was a drastic cut; her hair resting just at her chin. She had slicked it back and parted it on the left side while tucking it behind her ears. Although her hair had lightened while on the run last year, the sun-bleached hair was gone, and her hair reflected a dark chestnut hue. With her hair swept back and no bangs, it opened up her features and emphasized her chocolate eyes. "I wanted a change." She also wanted to look older. Her former hairstyle had hidden her facial features. Worse, they connected her to her childhood. She was no longer that girl and did not want to look the way she had while a student at Hogwarts.

"I see. It is very becoming," Minerva murmured. They stared at each other for another moment before Minerva released Hermione's face and pulled her in for a hug. "Welcome to my home, Hermione," she said as she stepped back.

"Thank you. This is a lovely room. I am looking forward to seeing more of the house as well as the countryside."

"No doubt you will enjoy the library," Minerva teased. "Let me show you around. This way." Throughout the tour, Hermione kept feeling eyes on her, caressing her face, her neck, her body. It was maddening.

And welcome.

Hermione had worn a coral-colored, long-sleeved, flannel button-down shirt and fitted jeans. She knew that even during the summer months the weather could be a bit breezy and cool. In addition, her clothes flattered her figure, making her feel good about herself. The coral of the shirt highlighted her lip color while contrasting nicely with her dark eyes. Hermione's spirits soared as she noticed those emerald eyes sweeping over her time and again.

Minerva was also dressed casually. She wore jeans and a plum-colored jumper that intensified the green of her eyes and the milkiness of her skin. Hermione found herself staring far more than she should. She took a shaky breath as she followed Minerva up the staircase to the third level.

After a leisurely tour of the Manor, Minerva offered to show Hermione one of the best sights of the countryside. As if her backside isn't a glorious view in and of itself.

"How can I refuse such an offer?" Hermione said with a quirk of her lips. They set off behind the Manor following a well-worn path up a hill. Hermione could smell the brine on the breeze, coating her skin and clothing as they ascended the slope that would lead them to flat moors that eventually ended at breathtaking cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

"My family has lived here for several generations, long before Caithness extended its boundaries. This house is located in Brough, along the northeastern tip of the Northern Highlands. Not much changes here. It has a wild, timeless beauty that has always called out to me."

Hermione took in the wildflowers dotting the moorland and agreed that the stark landscape evoked a mystical feeling. She could practically hear the bagpipes playing a melancholy tune. As they crested the rise, she gasped at the scenery revealed. Where the moors met the cliff sides, waves crashed onto jagged rocks far below. The rhythmic sound mesmerized her, and Hermione sat near the cliff face in a half-daze, allowing herself to connect with the beauty surrounding her.

"In a few days, we can hike to Dunnet Head and later explore the bay. I have a feeling you will appreciate the stark beauty those lands offer," Minerva said softly.

Nodding her agreement, Hermione mused how she had not even noticed Minerva settling beside her and wrapping an arm around her back. Hermione had just automatically leaned into the touch. "It is beautiful here," Hermione said, her voice reflecting the reverence she felt as she stared across the majestic cliffs. "I can see why you love it so."

"Aye," Minerva agreed, her brogue heavy. Pointing east, she said, "That way lies the Orkney Islands. Many ancient ruins, archeological sites, and historical relics are located throughout them. It was a good strategic area to control, and for that reason several countries fought for it."

"That sounds fascinating," Hermione said.

"We can go there if you wish, Hermione," Minerva smiled.

"Wonderful." Hermione gazed at the ocean view, content to sit here for as long as Minerva would allow. She did not seem to be in any hurry, and Hermione was glad.

After some time Minerva broke the silence. "When I was little more than your age," she began softly, "I had graduated Hogwarts and accepted a position at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I came back here for the summer before moving to London and fell deeply in love with a local boy, a Muggle who was the son of a local farmer. He knew nothing about witches or wizards, nothing about magic."

Hermione heard the sigh, and her heart ached. "What was his name?"

"Dougal McGregor. By the end of the summer he had proposed to me, and I had accepted." Minerva stopped talking and stared out at the ocean for several minutes while Hermione digested Minerva's words.

"I realized that night that I could not marry him. My mother had married my father without telling him that she was a witch. She hid a large part of who she was for years, and I decided I could not make the same mistake. So, the next morning, I broke off the engagement without explaining why. I was unable to reveal the true reason—that I was a witch—because of the Statute of Secrecy. If I had been entirely honest with him, he might have accepted me, continued to love me. But he might not have, too. And I did not want to lose my job at the Ministry by breaking the statute or choosing to remain here. I chose ambition over love that day."

"I'm so sorry, Minerva. That seems like an impossible choice to make," Hermione said as she wrapped her arm around Minerva's back.

"It was. I was heartbroken. He was my first love. A few years later, after I began teaching at Hogwarts, I received a wedding proposal from my former Ministry boss, Elphinstone Urquart. He was much older than I was, my mentor for several years, and I had not realized that he felt that way about me. I was extremely surprised and embarrassed. I was also still very much in love with Dougal. So, I declined. Elphinstone continued to propose to me every so often over the years, though, and finally I agreed."

"You were married?" Hermione said in shock.

"Yes, for a short time. I had grown to love him, and we were happy."

"How long did it take for you to agree to marry him?" Hermione asked curiously.

"About thirty years." Minerva looked over at Hermione. "I could not marry him while I still harbored hope of being with Dougal. But Dougal died, and I felt freed from those feelings. I was finally able to consider what Elphinstone was offering."

"So, what happened?"

"Elphinstone died three years later from a venomous Tentacula bite." Minerva shook her head, blinking quickly. "I packed up my belongings the day of his funeral and moved into Hogwarts. I have remained there ever since, except when I am here."

"No children?" Hermione asked quietly.

"No children."

Hermione breathed in deeply, thinking about the information she had just been given. "When did he die?" she asked.

"Ten years ago," Minerva answered. "I do not give my heart easily, Hermione, but when I do, it is entirely. I am not the type to flit from romance to romance. And for that reason, I am slow to trust, and even slower with allowing a person to know me, the true me."

Understanding what Minerva was implying, Hermione's heartbeat picked up speed. Was it possible she might return Hermione's feelings? It seemed impossible. Turning her head, Hermione's gaze was caught by bright green eyes. She held the stare, fighting her impulse to duck away, to somehow lessen the intensity, the import of this conversation. "I will not betray your trust, Minerva."

She wondered whether Minerva would recognize what she was trying to say. She wanted to tell her that she would never hurt Minerva if she offered her heart, that she would cherish it, protect it, care for it. From what Minerva had disclosed, Hermione gathered that Minerva was guarded with her heart, probably due to what had happened with Dougal. And to think that when she had finally opened her heart enough to marry, he had died merely three years later!

"I know, Gràdh." Minerva broke their stare, her eyes sweeping the field of wildflowers and landing on a seagull floating on the wind currents far below. Hermione watched the bird's flight path, grateful for the moment and the person next to her.

"I wouldn't mind learning how to fly," Hermione said softly. "I have never been comfortable on a broom. Or a hippogriff. Or a dragon, for that matter," Hermione chuckled. "But I believe that stems from my fear of falling. If I could fly, though, if I had the instinct and the ability, I think I might like it. I think I might love it."

"Well, we will have to see what is revealed. No matter what your animagus turns out to be, I am certain it will be a natural extension of your courage, goodness, and intelligence." Hearing these words, Hermione had to fight herself not to pull the older woman into an embrace. They sat companionably, not needing to fill in the silence, instead sharing thoughts as they occurred. It was late afternoon by the time they decided to return to the Manor to prepare for dinner.

"Elsa will come for you in an hour. I will see you then," Minerva said as they walked through the first floor hallway. Taking her cue, Hermione turned toward the staircase that led to the guest rooms. She would take a nice, hot shower before changing for the evening.

They fell into a comfortable routine during their time at the Manor. It was as if the world had decided to grant them a reprieve from the constant demands so that they could enjoy each other's company. After breakfast each day Minerva and Hermione would explore the countryside, sometimes bringing a picnic with them so that they could wander quite far. Some days they strolled across deserted beaches, while other days they stood atop windy cliff tops—wherever they went, they enjoyed the closeness borne of time spent together uninterrupted. It served as a healing balm, a way to gain perspective on the past, and it helped to prepare them for the demands they knew would soon begin upon their return to Hogwarts.

In the evenings they shared intimate meals before retiring to the library. Sometimes they debated various topics well into the night. Other nights they picked books from the shelves and cuddled as they lost themselves in words. And a few days they attended to Hogwarts' demands—Hermione by focusing on her teaching lessons, and Minerva by responding to correspondence. They never discussed what was happening between them, and Hermione decided to just enjoy the days without worrying how their relationship might change once their holiday ended.

On their last night at the Manor, they ate a delicious meal by candlelight. A fire burned on the other side of the room, adding to the romantic ambiance. They had dressed up, and Hermione was mesmerized by the way Minerva's dress shifted as she moved. The dress, a midnight blue hue, had long, fitted sleeves and a revealing neckline that drew Hermione's eyes to the shadows and what they covered. She could see the puckered scars, remnants of the four stunners Minerva had received while the Ministry controlled Hogwarts during Hermione's fifth year. She wanted to touch them, somehow take away the proof that Minerva had nearly died before her eyes. Ripping her eyes away, Hermione noticed that Minerva seemed far away, her eyes unfocused as she stared aimlessly. Candlelight flickered over Minerva's sculptured cheekbones, her demeanor solemn as they sipped their wine, the meal long since finished.

"Minerva?" Hermione said quietly while settling a hand on the older witch's arm. "Are you well?"

"Aye," Minerva answered absently before visibly pulling herself together. "I will miss being here. With you," she admitted slowly. She looked directly at Hermione, candle flames dancing off her shaded eyes. "Soon Hogwarts will demand most of my time and attention. Hermione," Minerva placed her hand over the hand still resting on her arm. "I hope you know how much I treasure our friendship. Please do not think less of me if we are unable to see each other often."

"Oh, Minerva. You needn't fear that. What kind of a friend would I be if I selfishly demanded time you did not have to give? As it is, you will be training me, and I will see you every day at meals and school meetings. I will adapt."

"We both know that will not be the same. I for one will miss spending time with you," Minerva said.

"I will miss you, too, but once the school year has begun, I am sure we will be able to figure it out," Hermione said confidently. Minerva smiled and nodded. Hermione was unsure whether Minerva was merely humoring her or if she truly believed Hermione's words, but it did not matter. They would see each other, and it would have to be enough.

"Dance with me," Minerva said softly.

Hermione's eyes widened. "But there's no music." A melodic laugh made her smile.

"Easily rectified." Hermione watched as Minerva rose and music filled the air. She extended a hand, and Hermione took it wordlessly. They walked toward the front of the room and stopped in front of the fireplace, where Minerva pulled Hermione close. As they swayed to the music, their eyes remained locked on each other. Hermione saw how serious Minerva looked, and she wondered once more what was running through Minerva's mind. Perhaps her face telegraphed her feelings. Minerva smiled ruefully before saying, "You are beautiful, Hermione, inside and out. I am fortunate to have you in my life, and I am very grateful."

"We are both fortunate, then," Hermione countered gently. "And I have no intention of losing this due to work. We will find time for us, Minerva."

"Yes, of course we will," Minerva whispered before pulling Hermione closer and wrapping her arms around her firmly.

They danced together through several songs without further conversation. Hermione was hyperaware of the brushing of their bodies, the sound of their breathing, the feeling of their connection. She felt melancholy and joyful, loving this time together but knowing it would soon end. She laid her head on Minerva's shoulder and trembled as a hand ran down her back slowly before returning to its resting place between her shoulder blades.

"It is getting late, and I think it best we say goodnight," Minerva said hoarsely as she stopped swaying and merely held Hermione.

"Not yet," Hermione murmured. She closed her eyes and thought the word Levicorpus while visualizing them dancing above the floor. A gasp caught her attention, and she opened her eyes slowly to see a stunned look on Minerva's face. Smiling broadly, Hermione said, "I knew I would love flying." Looking down, Hermione saw that they were hovering about five feet above the hardwood floor, circling slowly as if their feet were touching the ground. The firelight danced off of Minerva's eyes, and Hermione was captivated by the moment.

They danced on air without another word passing between them, as if they were both holding their breath and absorbing just how magical and priceless this dance was. Once the song ended, Hermione lowered them to the ground gently. Although she wanted to protest their separation, she just sighed and hugged Minerva. Pulling back, Hermione stared into dark eyes and leaned in to kiss Minerva's cheek. "Sweet dreams, Minerva. I shall see you in the morning." She broke their embrace reluctantly and quickly left the library before she gave into her growing desire and kissed Minerva properly—as a lover would.

How would you know what that entails? Hermione's mind supplied. You have never had a lover, and you can count on your hands how many times you have kissed another person. She could never want you—too young, too inexperienced, too inferior.

Immediately, Hermione attempted to reject her insecurities. After all, Minerva valued their friendship, enjoyed their time together, and worried about the lack of time they would share in the future. It was probably true that Minerva did not think of her as a potential lover, but that did not mean she was inferior. Hermione had no doubt that Minerva cared for her. That in itself was worth celebrating.

The fact remained, though, that all the time they had spent together at the Manor had lent itself to silly, romantic notions. Now it was time to return to reality. Even if she had felt wooed over the last two weeks, their time together was ending. She would cherish these memories and work toward strengthening their friendship once they were back at work. And as for the messiness of her inappropriate feelings for Minerva, she would just have to make sure she did not act on them.