Chapter 4 - Chance
Minerva momentarily gripped the edge of her door frame, willing the world to stop spinning as she leaned against the corner; her fingers deftly tying her robe about her waist. And with feigned fortitude, she pushed herself upright and opened the door – appearing as she needed to, the Headmistress of Hogwarts as a sea of brown washed before her causing her heart to falter.
In retrospect, she should have been expecting a knock upon her door after sending the letter. She should have realized that Hermione would come to see her. She should have realized Hermione wouldn't have waited.
However, just because she should have been ready; did not mean that she was.
After all, she had the written the letter upon returning to Hogwarts and promptly falling asleep; not having even taken the time to see Poppy and heal her side. She had just been too tired.
"I'm sorry," Hermione's voice pulling Minerva's scattered mind to the present, "I didn't mean to wake you. But I was hoping to speak with you."
Minerva stilled her nerves and the quaking in her stomach at the conversation that would undoubtedly ensue, "Do come in." She stepped aside, permitting Hermione entrance to her private suite, the gargoyle slowly closing behind her. She watched as the younger woman paused, eyes quickly scanning the contents of her living space; it was a large oval room that at its northerly apex had a brass staircase that lead to her office, the eastern walls held two doors – one leading to a small kitchen the other her private office; the southerly apex held a door that led to her bedroom and bathroom while the westerly wall had a second small bedroom with its own facilities and the weathered door that led to the gargoyle. Of course, Hermione could not tell what lay behind each door; for which she was thankful. It was rare for her to be upstairs and receive guests in what she had long ago become accustomed to her living area.
Unlike the office below where she had to greet countless dignitaries, officials and even the Queen of Britain; these rooms were her sanctuary. Only her closest friends and a few long tenured colleagues had been to her living area. Her life becoming more and more akin to how Albus' once was; alas, the man I once knew has been buried behind the man personified as Albus Dumbledore.
The adrenaline coursing through her system was helping to negate the after effects of Aberforth's less than savory whisky and stymie the pain pulsing in her side as she sat opposite of Hermione, carefully wrapping the edge of her robe over her legs as she met trepid brown eyes.
"The letter…"
A crescendo thrum burst across Minerva's hearing, blanketing out the noise for a moment.
"…you wrote this evening; I…" Hermione's voice faltered, jaw clenching as she leaned forward a bit more and cleared her throat, willing herself to finish the sentence. Even if it meant that the nails pounded into her coffin all those years ago would finally pierce her heart. "Have to know, if there is a chance for us? And if you'd be willing to try?"
Oxox
A/N: Here's another snippet in this tale. As always, I hope you enjoyed and see ya all soon.