Chapter 7
Hermione let her mind wander as she set up her classroom. Earlier, all the students had assembled in the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast and Sorting Ceremony. Now they were settling in their houses while Hermione got ready for tomorrow—the big day. Her first day teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts. She was excited and anxious.
What if they were unruly? What if they wouldn't stop talking or ignored her? What if they knew who she was and were more interested in hearing about Harry or Ron or Voldemort? What if she was a horrible teacher?
A hand on her arm redirected her unfocused gaze upward. "Minerva," she breathed.
"Hermione. Come with me, please."
Hermione walked through the castle beside Minerva without conversation, content to be near her. She knew that with the start of term she would not enjoy many opportunities to be with the older witch in a personal capacity.
Once they reached Minerva's private rooms, Minerva offered her tea. "Or would you prefer something a bit stronger?" she asked with a small smile.
"No. Tea sounds perfect." Hermione answered with her own smile. They sat close, facing one another on the sofa. Hermione sank into the familiar comfort Minerva's presence provided.
"It is perfectly natural to be nervous about teaching, Hermione. In fact, most teachers become apprehensive every year directly before the start of term, regardless of the number of years they have taught."
Looking up quickly, Hermione tried to gauge the truthfulness of Minerva's words. She saw sincerity and warmth shining through wizened eyes. At that moment Hermione felt very young and inexperienced. She cursed herself, feeling foolish for believing Minerva might be attracted to her. How naïve! How imprudent!
"What is it?" Minerva asked as she quickly placed her tea aside and slid across the distance that separated them.
Angry with herself, with her silly feelings, Hermione grimaced. She cleared her throat, swallowing down the lump of emotions attempting to choke her and trained her eyes on her trembling fingers—apparent enough that Minerva placed her hands over Hermione's and gently took the rattling tea cup and plate away.
"Hermione?" she asked, worry lining the name.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Hermione smiled weakly. "I am sorry, Minerva. You are right. I am nervous."
"There is no shame in that. In fact, it is a well-known secret that many professors suffer from anxiety dreams. For years I dreamt of standing in front of the classroom without a ready lesson plan. Then there was the dream of not being able to transfigure a pin into a butterfly," Minerva continued with a grimace. "Please do not fret, Hermione. I have confidence in your abilities, and so should you."
Nodding, Hermione tried to believe that Minerva was not speaking to her in a condescending manner, tried to believe that Minerva viewed her as an equal. Her insecurities, though, cast doubt, shading every word Minerva said.
"I'll give you some advice that Albus gave me shortly before my first day of teaching. Be stern and clear with your expectations. Don't try to be friends with your students. It matters not whether they like you," Minerva began.
"Obviously Snape took that advice to heart," Hermione muttered.
With a slight smile to acknowledge the comment, Minerva continued. "It is easier to relax the rules later in the school year than to be too lenient in the beginning and have to fight for their compliance. In addition, always plan an extra activity for each class, just in case they finish the assignment early or you find that the current class activity is not well received. And follow your instincts, Hermione."
Looking into Minerva's eyes, she saw kindness and compassion. Hermione nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "Thank you. That helps quite a bit." And it did. With her age as a possible issue, she had found herself uncertain as to how friendly she should be. Now she had a better idea of how to treat her students.
"I fear we will not have much time to spend together after tonight, but I would like to at least set up a schedule for your animagus training."
"Sure. What do you have in mind?" Hermione asked.
"How about Fridays after dinner?" Minerva asked. "We can begin this week." Hermione agreed. "And in the meantime, here are some books that may prove useful." Minerva lifted her wand from its place on a side table and with a softly spoken command three books flew through the air. Hermione caught them when they were close enough.
"History of Animagus. The Animagus Mystery. A Step-by-Step Practical Guide to Finding Your Inner Animal," Hermione read, fascinated. "I had no idea there were books on this."
"Only a few books are available due to the fact that not many are able to obtain animagus status. What you are undertaking will be quite strenuous. You will in all probability fail time and again in your attempts to transform, but I hope you will not give up. I will do everything in my power to help you."
Hermione was unsure what to say. Was Minerva insinuating that she might not be intelligent enough to grasp the process? That she might not work hard enough? Bitterness rose like bile up her throat. Minerva thought so little of her.
"And to think that Harry, Ron, and I were able to destroy the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort. It's a miracle," Hermione murmured, her words heavy with sarcasm.
"Not at all. You three are extremely powerful, even at your young age. You will achieve great milestones in your life, Hermione. Make no mistake," Minerva answered, her gaze fixed on the blazing fire, seemingly oblivious to Hermione's self-mockery.
"Am I so young that you find it remarkable, Minerva?" Hermione asked.
Sharp eyes focused on her. "Perhaps it is only that I am so old," Minerva parried in a light voice.
"Age is just a number," Hermione said harshly as she squeezed her hands together and leaned forward. "I know I still have much to learn, but I am trying," she said in exasperation as she waved toward the books now resting on the sofa.
"Some things take time and experience, Hermione, no matter how much we wish it were otherwise," Minerva said in a soothing voice.
"You think of me as a child," Hermione raged, upset at the thought. She jumped up and hugged herself as she turned toward the tall window beside the bookcase. She felt bereft knowing that Minerva viewed her as someone to be coddled and humored.
"No, Hermione," Minerva said firmly as a hand turned Hermione around to face her. "You are mistaken. I apologize if I have treated you in any way that may have led you to that conclusion. Frankly, you couldn't be further from the truth if you tried."
Hearing those words, Hermione's forehead crinkled. What does that mean? "I don't understand."
"No, I don't expect you do," Minerva agreed as she ran a thumb across Hermione's cheek, resting it at the corner of her mouth.
Hermione felt rooted to the spot, as if she had been struck by a stun spell, captured by darkened eyes and a touch that made her body burn. This was something that had been happening more and more often. Minerva would touch her casually—fingers brushing her arm, a hand holding hers, or a friendly embrace—and the effects were startling, overwhelming. She lived for those moments and wanted more. Hermione's eyes flitted over Minerva's face, staring at parted lips before being sucked into swirling, green eyes. She leaned in, needing to understand and knowing that Minerva would help her.
It was nearly a surprise to feel lips brushing against hers. Nearly a surprise to feel herself responding so naturally. Nearly a surprise to hear herself moan as strong arms wrapped around her to hold her closely as they kissed again and again. Nearly a surprise to realize, finally, what her heart had always known: Minerva returned her feelings. Hermione smiled into the kiss as she allowed her hands to rake through black tresses, pulling them from their neat bun as she refocused on the wonderful kisses they were sharing.
Breaking away, Minerva leaned her forehead against Hermione's and whispered huskily, "Do you understand now, Gràdh?"
"Mmm. Yes. I think that's the best explanation I have ever received," Hermione muttered as she grinned. Minerva's short bark of laughter made her smile wider. She could feel hands running over her back, causing her to tremble.
"Are you cold?" Minerva whispered as she tilted her head to nibble up Hermione's neck.
"N-n-noo," she stuttered, overcome by her body's reactions. She felt Minerva smile against her neck and shuddered, a small whimper making its way past her lips.
"Nooo?" Minerva asked with a teasing lilt. "Are you sure?" she persisted as her teeth tugged on an earlobe. Hermione groaned, closing her eyes as a bolt of desire roared through her.
"Yessss," Hermione hissed.
Demanding lips found hers and this time—sweet Merlin!—Minerva's tongue swept along Hermione's upper lip. Hermione opened her mouth to welcome the more intimate kiss, tremors moving throughout her body, arousal muddying her thoughts.
She had never experienced a kiss like this! She felt full yet hungry. Sated yet incomplete. She wanted more, needed more. Holding Minerva tightly, Hermione tilted her head and kissed back for all she was worth, trying to convey her intense feelings. Evidently Minerva understood, as a low groan was ripped from the older woman, resonating through Hermione and settling low in her belly. Minerva shifted as her tongue rubbed against Hermione's provocatively, and they both moaned at the closer contact. Just as Hermione felt her knees begin to buckle, Minerva eased her head back and gently broke the kiss.
"No more talk about being viewed as a child, Hermione," Minerva said, her Scottish burr rolling over her. Hermione's eyes fluttered open at the words, and she nodded wordlessly. A warm hand cupped her chin. "I would not kiss a child, and I haven't viewed you as one for a long time."
A smile broke out at the words, Hermione eyes lighting up with happiness. "I don't ever want age to be a factor between us."
"I know. But sometimes, whether we wish it or no, we will have to acknowledge the age gap." She held up a hand as Hermione began to object, gently placing a finger over Hermione's lips. "However, it has not stopped these feelings from growing, Hermione."
"Nor mine," Hermione agreed strongly.
"I believe you." Minerva pulled Hermione in for a quick hug before drawing back and pulling her by the hand to the couch. They sat down, and Minerva stared at their clasped hands silently.
"What does Gràdh mean?" Hermione asked shyly. This was the second time Minerva had used that word.
She felt her hand squeezed. "It means love," Minerva said with a small smile. Hermione blushed, and Minerva's smile widened.
"Hermione, your future is a blank slate. You can do anything, go anywhere, be anyone you desire. You have the intelligence, the courage, the fortitude, and the drive to succeed. I truly believe that you will become one of the most powerful witches we have ever seen, if not the most powerful one. Already you are far and away one of the most impressive witches around, and you earned top scores on ten N.E.W.T.s—an unprecedented achievement. Your natural skills and ability to adapt quickly have brought you far." She stopped talking and gazed at Hermione.
Hermione stared back dumbly. She found it hard to believe. Certainly Minerva was the most powerful witch and would continue to hold that title for the rest of her life. Hermione could only hope to study with her, to learn from her, and to perhaps be worthy of the affection being offered to her. She shook her head, unable to accept what Minerva was saying.
"I don't agree. I am flattered, but I do not have that type of skill. I have to work hard to learn every spell, to remember every nuance, to move the wand as is needed. I have no natural skill, and I certainly am not able to adapt quickly." She looked away, ashamed. "I am afraid you have misjudged me." She wondered whether Minerva had mistaken her feelings, too. Perhaps she had based them on the inaccurate belief that Hermione was special, gifted, worthy.
"Hermione," Minerva said sternly. "I will not tolerate false modesty or a mistaken belief that working hard is equivalent to having no natural abilities. Anyone who seeks to excel must put the time in. I certainly do, and I expect you will continue with your studies. Now, I believe we have had this conversation before. Do you not trust my judgment?"
Nodding her head, Hermione was quick to reassure Minerva. "Yes. I trust you implicitly."
A soft smile lit Minerva's features. "Good. We will begin training on Friday. I will see you before then, of course, at meals and meetings, but we must keep a professional distance. I, for one, will find that extremely hard to do."
Smiling in relief, Hermione ran her fingers down Minerva's cheek. "We'll manage, I am sure." Her heart soared with the knowledge that Minerva returned her feelings, that the attraction was mutual. She would prove to Minerva that her affections were well-placed. She would do everything in her power to fulfill Minerva's belief that they were equals. She would take care of Minerva's heart even as she delivered her own to the older witch.