A repressed ache…
Three years later…
She had attended out of necessity, and if she was honest with herself, it was obligation; as it would not due for the Head of Hogwarts to not attend a Ministry function. And as usual, she found herself surrounded by those seeking small talk, her personal assurances regarding Hogwarts and a sundry of ancillary bits of information, none of which brought meaning to the evening; quite the opposite. Yet, somehow, she had found herself face to face with one person who made all of the aforementioned as though it had been a welcome divergent. Hermione Granger.
She was even lovelier than the last time they had spoken, three years ago, when she had graduated from Hogwarts. Three years ago, when Hermione had asked her to alter the course of their relationship. And she had forestalled that notion; her own fears at being in a relationship with one so young, inexperienced…innocent had easily overshadowed any hope of something more.
"Hermione." She felt a warmth burn within her depths as brown eyes blinked and landed upon her own; the mild shock within Hermione's gaze at seeing her standing there was masked within a heartbeat. "It has been a long time." Green eyes swept over the younger woman, the cut of her dress was simple, elegant…a long champagne colored gown with thin straps resting upon her fine collarbone as it tapered down her chest and sides before flaring out along the bottom of her legs. She extended her hand outward, a steady grasp upon her fingers, "You look lovely."
Hermione dropped the elder witch's hand, eyes reveling in the fact that the Headmistress had shed her usual robes and was standing before her in an emerald silk gown that seemed to hug her body as though it had become a second skin. She couldn't help but take a small step forward, voice involuntarily whispering. "As do you." She let her eyes meaningfully drop from Minerva's to that of her body, her gaze hungrily devouring how milky white her skin appeared….
Minerva could feel a surge of heat burst through her system as brown eyes swept across her body, and for a moment, she forgot that she was the Head of Hogwarts, forgot that she had long ago mastered the demure but rather stone-wall reserve that few if any ever got through, forgot that she was fifty years her senior...as the ability to speak momentarily fled her senses. And before she could recover, before she could say anything of meaning…red hair swam within her vision…
"Hermione," Ron stated as his hand slid up the small of her back, bringing her a shade closer to him, and enabling him to see who she was conversing with; and he couldn't help but smile…for he should have known, it was none other than… "Professor McGonagall."
Despite the intimate gesture, her eyes remained fixed upon Minerva...absorbing every ounce of unguarded bits of information that had passed between them; as she knew whose hand drifted up her back, pulling her closer to him and farther from where she desired. And from the smoldering gaze and hint of red upon Minerva's cheeks, the feeling she had long since thought was not mutual had been overwhelmingly cast aside. It was mutual. Very mutual. But then she watched as the wall that usually defined Minerva McGonagall snapped back into place as soon as Ron's words fluttered across the air; closing off the woman beneath and she felt as she had all those years ago, standing in the hallway, barely a few scant feet away, drowning in a froth of blood from the nails being torn through her heart.
"Please, Ronald." Minerva felt her world come back into focus as she forced a smile upon her face, extending her hand, "Call me, Minerva." Her eyes remained upon his, though her heart yearned to cast a glance to the woman on his left; wanting to understand the wanton pull she evoked over her normally staunch will.
With ease he took her hand, "How's Hogwarts?"
"Little has changed other than the sea of faces that greet me in the morning." She replied, drawing a smile from his companion, and her heart lifted…while she mentally remained cognizant that this feeling, whatever, this feeling was had disaster etched upon the very wind that had brought the angel a scant meter away. "Kingsley speaks very highly of both you and Mister Potter in the Auror division."
Hermione felt Ron's possessive grip immediately ease as he began to animatedly answer Minerva's question, and she too, found herself rap with attention; not about what she had said, rather the context of the statement. That, while, not remaining entwined in their everyday lives or even seemingly apparent in their lives; she had asked about them, maintained working knowledge of their careers, and who knew what else. And Hermione found herself, if at possible, drawn even more to the enigmatic woman. She had always thrived on mysteries, and the greatest one she had ever come across, had quietly guided and mentored her through the perils of Hogwarts and friendship, had been there the day Viktor had asked her out, forced herself to see the world for the possibilities and not the shambles it had become, prompted her to seek Ron out just prior to Dumbledore's death; she had given so much and yet…had asked for so little in return. And then there was the summer between her sixth and seventh year; she had asked for Minerva's tutelage on a far more personal matter regarding how to cast a memory charm without causing permanent harm.
It was a conversation that had burned its way into her memory, not because of the words, rather the action that had been taken that afternoon upon the fabled grounds of Hogwarts; action caused by her startling revelation of what she along with Harry and Ron were going to try and do and why she so desperately needed Minerva's assistance. She had expected Minerva to be irate, to hear her deep Scottish brogue reverberate off the walls, but none of the fury came only quiet solitude as emerald eyes remained fixed upon hers for several long minutes and then Minerva slowly turned from her…her gait deliberate but poignant as the silence between them stretched out farther as Minerva came to a stop as her long, fingers and tapered nails ran across the stone ledge while her face stared out upon the grounds, remaining hidden from Hermione's view.
It was at that point that Hermione realized how much she truly didn't know about Minerva McGonagall. Yes, she knew what everyone else knew, how could you not, she was Minerva McGonagall; one of the most powerful witches in Britain, with a biography almost as long as Albus Dumbledore's, a walking legend…who taught at their school, alongside of Dumbledore…but, did that mean she knew or even understood who the woman was? Yes, she had spent countless hours with Minerva, talking of her studies, dreams, even her friends; but what had been shared in return? And as that question rung throughout her head, Hermione realized the startling truth, that nothing had been shared that had already not been known.
And her world became irrevocably altered as the minutes passed, the broad daylight streaming in upon…Hermione blinked, as she saw Minerva. Truly saw her….and the stern features she so often equated to Minerva McGonagall; the drawn lips, narrowed almost hawk like eyes, even the rigidity of her back…melted away; revealing a softness, a warmth that struck to Hermione's heart. She marveled at the transformation that seemingly took place before her eyes, as though Minerva herself, was practicing transfiguration upon her own person. Minerva had always seemed larger than life, able to withstand the fury of madness that had encompassed their world and emerge unscathed, but…there, standing only a few feet away, Hermione began to realize how utterly untrue her belief was. She, along with the entire wizarding world, had placed Minerva on a pedestal…right beside Dumbledore; and as the proud shoulders seemingly to have sunk over an inch…a troubled, brewing expression clouding her normally clear emerald eyes, as her lips curled into a subtle frown.
"And…" Minerva paused, as she took another breath, "Am I to presume that the boys do not know that you have come here today?"
Hermione continued to stare at the venerable woman who had yet to turn back towards her, "They don't know that I am here." She fought the overbearing urge to fiddle with her hands. "And can't."
At the heartfelt admission, Minerva's gaze was pulled away from the grounds to her and she couldn't help the slight gasp from slipping past her lips at the sheer emotion emanating from the green pools staring at her. "And yet you are here."
"I can't tell you…" Hermione felt her words stop in her throat as Minerva raised her hand…but it was the sound of her name upon Minerva's lips that entranced her.
"Don't, Hermione." She quietly stated as her rich ancestry laced the brogue in her words. "Because, that way, if something happens to me, I won't know."
Hermione balked at Minerva's words, once again finding her voice. "Nothing will happen to you." Hermione continued on, "You'll be here, at Hogwarts." She could hear the tremor in her cadence as she finished, "Safe."
"No one is safe, dear." Minerva said a light smile upon her lips. "Especially, here."
"But, this is Hogwarts…"
"And changes are in motion," Minerva waved her hand, "Enough." She sighed, "I will conduct the memory charm…"
"But you just said that if something happened…"
"I will conduct the memory charm," She began again, brow arching to Hermione, as though daring her to interrupt again and clearly evident that she would not be discussing the perils coming to Hogwarts any less with her than Hermione would be sharing the dangers she, Harry and Ron would be facing this coming year. "And leave the room, on one condition."
Hermione felt her head shaking, "I can't tell you…"
"I'm not asking you to tell me where you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are heading off to; undoubtedly it is linked with Mr. Potter's trips with Albus and the Horcruxes."
"You know of the Horcruxes?" Hermione questioned feeling light-headed.
"Of course." Minerva's typical, non-sensible cadence ringing through the room.
Hermione felt her mouth open, no question coming out…as she stood dumbfounded and staring at Minerva unabashedly. "…."
"The condition."
Hermione felt herself nod in response.
"A communiqué once a month, letting me know that you and your peers are alright."
"I can't…" Hermione stammered, "There is no way that I'll be able to send letters…"
A genuine smile crossed Minerva's lips, "There are other means to communicate with people, other than letters."
"Like the books Sirius gave Harry…"
"Similar but no." Minerva replied, "Are the terms agreeable?"
"As long as you don't ask me where we are and what we are doing?"
Green eyes met brown ones, and she gave an infinitesimal shake of her head in affirmation. "Let me know when you wish to alter your parents' memories."
Relief swelled through her veins, "Thank you…" Hot tears streaming down her cheeks. "Min…erva." She murmured…feeling oddly at ease using her Professor's first name.
"You are welcome, Hermione." Minerva whispered as she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Hermione's slender frame, giving her the solace she so desperately needed as the magnitude of what she was about to embark upon with her friends and do to her parents, for protection, crashed into reality.
At some point, it had been too much for her to bear, and she had passed out…waking the following morning, in McGonagall's living area of her suite, with only a note by way of greeting. Hermione didn't feel comfortable exploring her professor's private chambers to see if she was within, and had taken the note and read its contents…surprised that the normally reserved and distant Professor had addressed the letter…informally.
Xoxo
Hermione,
At your earliest convenience, please let me know the date and time to meet you at your parents' home as I will need to make some arrangements guaranteeing a few hours of privacy; since Albus' death, my movements and guests are tracked far more closely. Do be careful, there are shadows admist every turn, as you are Harry's friend.
If you are hungry, ask for Brax, and he shall bring you some breakfast.
Minerva
Xoxo
Hermione found herself nodding at what Ron had said, realizing she had at some point in the past several seconds lost track of the conversation as her mind had wondered and cast a glance towards Minerva trying to discern how much she had missed; and found herself meeting striking green, knowing eyes that held a hint of a smirk beneath as though the other woman knew she had been reminiscing.
"I'm sorry Ronald," Minerva's gaze flickered back to Hermione for the briefest of moments as she acknowledged the breathtaking witch. "Hermione, however," She pulled her eyes across the floor towards the Minister of Magic, "I need to speak with Kingsley. It was a pleasure to see each of you, and…" Minerva found eyes wanting to return to the woman only a scant meter away, to see the warm chocolate gaze fixated upon her, and despite not wanting to give in to the feeling; Minerva's pulse incrementally jolted as her eyes involuntarily slid to Hermione's and her breath lodged in her throat and the rest of the words came out in a breathless whisper. "Please don't be strangers."
Ron easily replied, "We won't." He leaned forward reaching out and wrapped an arm around their former Professor. "And it was good to see you too."
Minerva returned his embrace with a warm one of her own. "And you." She replied as she leaned back and turned to Hermione…
Who was already reaching outward and at the warmth of their conact, Minerva felt her breath hitch in response and a flood of emotion pulsed through her; while Hermione involuntarily tightened her grip along the other woman's waist wanting to remain close, relishing the feeling, knowing that it was ill-timed, but was seemingly powerless to move away.
But all too soon a cool air began to seep between them, as Minerva pulled away, a molten warmth staring into deep hazel eyes; and before Hermione could formulate a word, a rich smile curled scarlet lips, crinkling the corners of enigmatic eyes as the woman spun away and her lithe form was lost almost instantly in the sea of bodies rekindling an ache long since repressed.
Xoxo
"Hermione?" Ron frowned at her lack of response. "Hey," He reached over, hand sliding along her arm, "You alright?"
"I'm sorry, just…" She feigned a small smile, "Thinking." She answered honestly, "What were you saying?"
Blue eyes narrowed in concern, "You sure you're alright?"
Hermione gave him a reassuring smile, "Quite." And more than a little confused, she thought regarding the encounter, albeit brief one, with Minerva that had brought feelings and memories back that she thought she had long since moved past. Obviously not, she thought trying to remain focused upon Ron's commentary and away from the image of the enticing woman who had graced her presence for the first time in years.
He stared into her brown eyes a moment more before retracing the last few sentences with her, "I was just saying how nice it was to see everyone."
Hermione nodded, "Yes, it was."
"Ya know," His words becoming mildly garbled as he swallowed another glass of wine. "McGonagall wasn't all bad…"
Hermione couldn't help her own face from breaking into a smile as she replied. "No, she's not."
Xoxo
A/N: Might try something new with this story; a compilation of stand alones based upon one theme/storyline. As always, feedback is most welcome.