AN: Second instalment. The third is already formulating in my mind but I'll probably only have time to write it down on Sunday so please bear with me. Meanwhile, I'd love to read your guesses as to what's going on.


Sins of the Past

Chapter 2


Two days later

Hermione loved magic. Had she given birth in a muggle hospital she would have had to suffer from the various pains for weeks before she could function properly. With potions and capable Healers surrounding her she was discharged as completely healed in two days. 'Now I just need to get my life in order.'

Although Hermione was completely healed in the physical sense her heart and soul were entirely beyond the abilities of any healer at the renowned magical hospital. Granted, Healer Strout did her best, basically acting as Hermione's therapist in those two days, but her speciality was helping new life enter the world, not mending broken hearts. And the poor brunette's heart was utterly broken, for Minerva had vanished without a single word and had not bothered to check on her partner and infant daughter for two days. She didn't even bother to reply to owls.

'Stupid, untrusting, pig-headed idiot.' Hermione grumbled as she thought of the woman who was currently abusing the heart she'd stolen from the younger witch five years ago. Willing herself to focus on what needed to be done rather than on dwell on her pain, Hermione made a mental list of errands to run before attempting to contact her... she was not even sure what Minerva was to her at this moment. Her lover? Her ex? 'Well she's certainly the mother of my child and she'll have to deal with that one way or another.'


Meanwhile in the Headmistress' office

"Minerva...are you sure that was the right thing to do?" Albus' portrait asked. After the real man died almost a decade ago his portrait became Minerva's single solace. That is, until Hermione found the guts to pursue her some five years ago. 'Only to have her betray me like that...'

"Albus, you know me far too well to have meant that question." Minerva reproached what remained of her friend, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "I left because I did not trust myself not to start yelling and throwing accusations at her on the spot. That was neither the place nor the time."

The late Headmaster hummed in acknowledgement, a sad but thoughtful look creeping into his eyes. Even though he did not command the emotional range he used to, there was enough of him preserved by the magic of the portrait to feel not only sorry for his dear friend but also recognize when said woman was deceiving herself.

"And in the last two days, Tabby?" He finally asked. He'd seen the owls bearing letters from Hermione. They were in an unopened pile on her desk.

The ebony haired Scottish witch threw him a dirty look. She did not particularly enjoy being reprimanded. Turning away from his portrait, she marched straight to one of the cabinets and retrieved a very special bottle of firewhiskey. She rarely drank anything else and even less rarely indulged in this particular liquid. The dozen or so bottles that remained were part of her family inheritance so she kept them for special occasions. On this occasion the speciality was the fact that her life seemed to be in ruins.

"And if Hermione were to visit with the child, Minerva? Don't you suppose seeing your daughter for the first time since her birth ought to happen while you were sober?" Albus asked.

The icy cold stare Minerva shot at the portrait would have been enough to petrify any living being but keen blue eyes returned the stare unblinking. Eventually it was Minerva who looked away, her shoulders hunching in the process. Never in her life, had she felt this vulnerable and never in her life had she cowered in front of anyone.

"How can you say that that child is mine Albus? I've already told you..." Minerva trailed off, a great sob froze whatever she wanted to say on her lips.


Hermione's flat...

Hermione stood in the middle of her living room, ticking things off her mental checklist. She'd been to the Ministry to enquire if they kept a record of the family of muggleborn witches and wizards. The young clerk at the Muggle Affairs Department had looked at her with something akin to terror. The poor lad had of course heard of the muggleborn war heroine, the brains of the Golden Trio, and was utterly dumbstruck by the request. He was also somewhat shocked to be in the presence of such unparalleled beauty which had a seriously negative effect on his ability to focus on what she was saying rather than on her chest. Eventually Hermione grew too frustrated with him and as she did not think he deserved to be hexed for being a hormonal teenager she simply stomped off, and unceremoniously barged into Arthur Weasley's office.


"Hermione, what a pleasure to see you." Arthur smiled initially, not immediately recognizing the young woman's distress. In fairness, Hermione did attempt to hide it with charms and glamours.

"And you, Arthur. I'm afraid I'm on a tight schedule so I'll have to make this visit brief. Do you suppose there might be records somewhere of muggleborn witches' and wizards' families?" Hermione asked politely.

Arthur's eyes grew almost imperceptibly and he rubbed his palm across his balding scalp, a nervous habit Hermione noticed he'd developed during the war.

"Well... technically yes. It's still under debate in the Wizengamot whether we should destroy or classify the records but as a matter of fact we do. Why?" He asked. He gave her one of his looks, his eyes narrowing comically while he turned his head slightly to the side. He was clearly suspicious of Hermione's motives.

Hermione quickly had to think up a reason why she'd be interested, seeing how she did not yet want to reveal her current predicament.

"Well... you know what muggle doctors are." She stated. She remembered Molly's screech quite well when she found out that Arthur had been dabbling with muggle remedies after his snake incident. "I was wondering if we had records of what the muggle families did for a living. I'm hoping to find some muggle doctors who already have a connection with the wizarding world." So far she had nothing but the truth.

She could see that the proverbial wheels were turning in his head but he was kind enough to not push it and eventually allowed her access to the records.


Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. 'Time to see Minerva.'

She hesitated for a moment when she turned to her daughter, wondering if she was a lousy mother for leaving her two day old child with someone else. The brunette witch actually considered taking Rose with her but then thought better of it. She knew Minerva like the back of her hand. Pissed as she was she was likely to throw a temper tantrum if she couldn't get her to see reason. Having yet to recover her mother's memories she went to the only person she'd trust her daughter with apart from herself and Minerva – assuming that the woman deigned to retract her head from her rear end. That one person was Molly Weasley.


With perfect timing Hermione arrived via the floo network just as she had promised to Molly in her letter. Dreading this meeting she gingerly stepped out of the fireplace, her eyes scanning the room for anyone. When she realized that Molly had been true to her word and arranged for everyone but herself to be present she sighed in relief. This conversation would be awkward enough with just Molly present, she did not need any of the Weasley men to be there.

"Hermione, dear! Just in time!" Molly greeted her warmly from the kitchen. "Oh my goodness, gracious, you've brought Rose to visit?" Molly squealed happily, rushing to her favourite almost daughter. Even though she knew that the girl had loving parents of her own, albeit currently in hiding, she took it on herself to be the young witch's magical parent for lack of a better word.

Unsurprisingly Molly had quite a similar reaction as they had when they first saw Rose. 'God, poor Rosie, she's definitely making an unforgettable first impression.' Hermione mused as she waited for Molly to process what she was seeing.

The older woman's eyes kept darting back and forth between Hermione's eyes and her daughter's unmistakeable features. "Heavens above. Hermione... please tell me that someone in your family was a redhead."

"I wish that were the case, Molly." Hermione replied sadly. Not wanting to allow the Weasley Matriarch to jump to the same conclusions Minerva had she hurried on. "But contrary to what I expect you think, I most certainly did NOT cheat on Minerva." She stated firmly, giving the older woman a good solid look.

"Hermione..." Molly looked at the younger woman reproachfully. "I don't mean to cause you any heart ache, and I did give you the benefit of the doubt, but I know a Weasley when I see one. That red hair, that nose, that's so characteristically Weasley that it's ridiculous to deny. Especially to me. God knows I've given birth to enough of them." She smiled, vaguely trying to reassure the brunette witch. "Does Ron know?" She asked.

Hermione felt her body heat up in anger in a matter of seconds. "God damn it, Molly! Why does NO ONE believe me when I say that I did not cheat on my girlfriend?" The words exploded from her so unexpectedly that Molly actually took a step back."I have absolutely no idea why Rose has red hair." She said in exasperation.

Molly, still in somewhat of a shock, regarded Hermione wearily. Normally she would have fought back if anyone talked to her like that but the young witch was so obviously close to a breaking point that she chose to curb her temper.

The younger witch sighed in frustration, brushing a hand through her hair while she balanced her daughter on her other arm. "Look, Molly. I'm... I'm sorry I snapped. It wasn't exactly called for. But you have to believe me when I tell you that I am not having a secret romance with any of your sons, especially Ron. He's a dear friend but that is all. I love Minerva. But the blasted stubborn witch left me in the delivery room the moment she saw Rose." Hermione revealed, tears immediately welling up in her eyes. "We haven't spoken in two days, Molly. I need to go and speak to her but I'm afraid to take Rose with me. Her temper is quite unpredictable at times."

She could literally see Molly's heart breaking for her upon her admission. She moved closer and gently wrapped an arm around her shoulder, mindful not to squeeze the infant between them. "Oh dearest, I am so sorry." She said in a comforting tone, clearly accepting Hermione's claims as truth. "You want to ask me to mind little Rosie while you try to talk some sense into your pig-headed witch?" She asked kindly.

"Would you?" Hermione asked tearfully.

"Oh Hermione, of course! Even though she is not my grandchild by blood, you are like a daughter to me so any child of yours will always be welcome." The older woman said.


Having done all that was necessary she grabbed the bag full of Rose's things, and gently picked up her child from her bed. 'Our child. Minerva's and mine.' She mentally corrected herself. "Oh Rosie, I'm so sorry your first few days are so stressful. But I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll get your stubborn other mother to see reason, don't you fear." She said, a smile appearing on her lips despite of her melancholy when her daughter opened her eyes to the sound of her voice.

Hermione marvelled at the tiny human in her hands. She was such a well-behaved little girl even though she was sure she could feel all the stress around her. She had barely wailed since that first explosion of a sound upon being thrust into the world. The brunette witch was fairly sure that she was just imagining it but she thought her daughter must be sensing her needs. 'Not that it shouldn't be the other way around...'

Gently cuddling the small body to her she pressed a soft kiss on Rose's cheek before she wrapped her securely in a blanket and stepped to the fireplace.


At Hogwarts...

The floo network activated and Minerva's fireplace roared to life, effectively catching the animagus' complete attention. There were only a small handful of people who were allowed to access her office in such a fashion and she only expected, and half-dreaded, the arrival of one. True to her fears, or rather hopes, a bushy head of brunette hair appeared in the fireplace, followed by its owner. Covered in sooth as she was, and quite clearly pissed off, Minerva still thought that Hermione was breathtaking. It took all of her willpower not to launch herself at Hermione and smother her with kisses and apologies. She was still not convinced that she alone ought to make amendments.

"Hermione." She managed to say evenly. Hidden behind her large desk she was gripping the arm rests of her chair like a vice, forcing some semblance of control on herself.

"Minerva." Hermione replied equally coolly as she made her way across the office, vaguely aware that every single portrait in the room had their eyes on her. Rather than sitting down in one of the straight backed chairs in front of Minerva's desk, she stood in between them, looking the Scottish witch square in the eye.

Several seconds ticked by and neither of the witches said a word but eventually it was Hermione who broke the silence. "You're an arsehole, Minerva. Did you really HAVE to leave me, us, like that in the delivery room?" she asked, fairly satisfied with the tone she managed. It wasn't a pleasant tone but at least it was not hysterical.

Minerva could not reply immediately, she was much too engaged in struggling with her temper to form words coherently and not start shouting at the same time. The very suspicious lack of the child's presence had set her mood even before Hermione had said a word.

"You're the one to speak of arseholes..." She spat coldly. 'Although its fairly obvious that that is NOT what she'd been making good use of nine months ago.' The older witch thought, although she kept that particular acidic remark to herself, banking on the slim chance that they might somehow settle their problem.

"Meaning?" Hermione ground out tensely."Minerva, if you are going to insult and accuse me at least have the balls to do it up front, not in such an un-Gryffindor-like backhanded way." The younger witch said. She knew she was asking for it, but she had to somehow break through the walls the stubborn woman had built around herself.

Being cheated on was one thing for Minerva. She kept telling herself that if the younger woman had been honest about it immediately she would have forgiven her. Being lied to about it for nine months was an entirely different matter. But being called un-Gryffindor-like in the process? That was too much stress for her Scottish temper to bear and she suspected that the young woman knew it.

"It's not an accusation if its true, Hermione!" She spat viciously. "Rose has RED hair, for God's sake. How much more obvious can you get? And where is she anyway?"

Hermione tried to maintain her composure, really she did, but being yelled at was not something she enjoyed immensely. "It must have come from our families." She said, convinced of the truth of the statement. No other explanation was possible. 'Unless I was raped and then obliviated by a red haired man, but that is not particularly likely...' As for the location of their daughter, she hoped that Minerva would not notice that she neglected to reply. Telling that she was at the Burrow didn't seem like a particularly great idea.

"Does anyone in your family for the last four generations have red hair?" Minerva asked matter-of-factly.

Hermione only shook her head no, her features turning sad.

Even though Minerva was mightily upset at the moment she could not restrain her heart from going out to the distressed brunette standing sulkily in front of her desk. Damn her, but she still loved the woman. She was just not sure if she could trust her again.

"Neither do mine, Hermione." Minerva said quietly, her temper momentarily curbed by her lover's sadness. "My family had been famous for birthing children with black hair and vivid green eyes. Rose has red hair and blue eyes." She almost whispered the last few words.

Hermione's knees buckled at the hopeless finality of Minerva's tone. She finally decided to collapse into one of the chairs, all the while maintaining eye contact with her lover.

"Where is Rose?" Minerva tried again. Avoiding the question clearly wasn't working.

"I asked Molly to mind her while I came to talk to you." Hermione said defiantly, almost challenging the older woman to take issue with it. Just as she guessed it would, rage flashed in emerald orbs for a moment, but much to her surprise, Minerva remained silent.

"Lets do a paternity test." She said after a few seconds. When Minerva furrowed her brows in confusion she elaborated. "Being a transfiguration mistress, I expect I don't have to start explaining molecular biology to you. The muggles have invented a way to examine the DNA samples of people and give a 99.9% accurate testimony of kinship."

"And I suppose you've already contacted a suitable muggle who'd do the test for us? Talked to them in advance?" The words slipped out before Minerva could reconsider and she regretted them almost instantly.

"How dare you, Minerva McGonagall!" Hermione jumped from her seat, her own temper finally flaring when the full implication of Minerva's badly chosen words hit her. "How DARE you!" She practically yelled. "Your the bloody Headmistress of Hogwarts for God's sake, ask Horace to make some veritaserum if you can't take my word for it. I. Did. Not. Cheat. On. You." She ground out each word individually.

"For your information, I've sent some of the hair you've left behind in my flat to a muggle clinic. I'll show you proof of my fidelity, even if you are not cooperative." Hermione said midway through the office. "Although at this point I am not sure if I want to have anything to do with your arrogant ass."

Leaving the threat of a potential break up hanging in the air, Hermione marched toward the fireplace, she did not even stop when Minerva finally found her voice and called after her. She loved the woman dearly but she felt betrayed and abused and she vowed not to allow that to ever happen again. Minerva had a lot of apologizing to do before she'd forgive her.


To Be Continued

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