FYI for Timeline: I'm using Rose Weasley's birth date for Rose McGonagall and since the HP wiki suggested a time range I'm picking 16 August 2006 so its not quite the beginning of the school year yet.
A/N: Okay, so it seems I couldn't fit it into three chapters. At this point I am guessing four, maybe five instead.
Sins of the Past
Chapter 3
nine days later...
It was early morning and the sun broke through the thick curtains that were not so successfully keeping the room dark so its inhabitant may rest for a few more hours. The golden ray of light that managed to penetrate the darkness slowly crept across the rich red carpet, making the intrinsic detail woven into it stand out more visibly. It was a clever bit of craftsmanship, some who have seen it would even go so far as to say clever bit of magic, that made the carpet shine in such a way only when it was hit by the rays of the sun.
In another quarter of an hour the thin line of light managed to creep up the matching red bed cover that its owner did not even bother to take off before sliding under the sheets, figuring that she'd need the extra warmth without her partner being there to chase away her chills. However, much to her dismay, sleep refused to come until the small hours of the morning which meant that she was far from well-rested when the sun peeked inside her bed chamber. When she was roused enough to realize that the light hit her face the witch groaned and turned on her side disapprovingly, automatically pulling her legs closer to her chest.
The animagus' head was slightly spinning from sleep deprivation and she felt an unwelcome sense of nausea that spread from somewhere between her stomach and chest. Not quite awake yet, she blindly groped around the bed, looking for the familiar smaller body of her lover to curl around, only to find that the the bed was stone cold on both sides around her. This disappointing revelation brought her completely back into the realm of reality and she allowed a melancholy sigh to escape her lips. 'Heavens this is madness... I need to find a way to get through to her.' She thought sourly. She had sent three letters to her in the past week and even tried fire calling but got no answer. The older woman didn't necessarily want to resort to the forcefulness of apparating or using the floo network if she didn't have to. She'd have much preferred that Hermione decide on her own to be willing to speak to her. She vaguely wondered what their daughter might turn out to be like if she had two such ridiculously stubborn witches as mothers. 'Assuming that she's mine...'
Minerva tried banishing the thought, she really did, but it stuck on her quite uncomfortably. She desperately wanted to believe the young woman but her own insecurities were getting in the way. Even knowing that the age difference between them only counted for half compared to what it would have been if they were muggles, she still couldn't comprehend what Hermione saw in her, and that made her constantly wonder if she wasn't going to wake up one day and find that the beautiful witch had run off with a more age-appropriate suitor. 'You know Minerva... you'd be the first one to give a painful scolding to anyone if they dared to assume Hermione was that fickle.'
Hermione's flat...
Although they spent the night in different beds and had almost entirely different reasons, Hermione was just as sleep-deprived as Minerva. As well-behaved as Rose had been during her pregnancy, she was turning out to be a terrible sleeper now that she had arrived. The brunette witch was up about every two hours trying to soothe the wailing baby, which left her precious little time to dwell on her broken relationship. She dearly missed Minerva and wished nothing more than to sink into the animagus' embrace, like a comforting cocoon of warmth to hide in, but knew that she needed to stand up to the stubborn woman if they wanted a healthy relationship. She knew Minerva had insecurity issues, although for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. Hermione though, and in fact many people agreed, that it was fairly obvious that she was head over heels in love with the silly witch, yet the Scottish woman didn't quite dare to believe it, even after five years.
'At least her letters seem to suggest that she regrets being such an asshole. Doesn't negate the fact though that she bloody left me in the delivery room just when our daughter was born.' Deep down, Hermione had a difficult time staying angry with the woman, hence why she had not yet replied to any of her letters. The brunette witch worried that she'd give her position up too easily. She also knew damn well that when Minerva came to her senses she would torment herself mercilessly over the fact that she'd missed Rose's first week so in a way she felt that her punishment was already doled out, even if not delivered yet.
Soft cries dragged Hermione from her thoughts back to reality again, and she jumped out of the bed automatically, donned her robe automatically and paddled into the adjoining room automatically as well. The fact that she'd been thinking of the Scottish witch so hard made her remember the Gaelic lullaby that Minerva always used to sing, voice barely louder than a whisper, her head resting on her growing belly. She couldn't quite pronounce the words but she remembered the tone perfectly so when she picked up Rose from her bed she started humming it to her. Her brain didn't even register the fact that she'd pulled a flap of her robe to one side and guided the squirming babe towards her breast, it came to her so naturally.
A few minutes later Rose was fast asleep again and looked quite a bit more relaxed than any one time during the night. 'I wonder if it was because of Minerva's lullaby... ' The thought didn't surprise Hermione much but it did add to her growing anxiety about their relationship. 'Apparently Rose misses her just as much as I do.' She knew that they both needed the stubborn animagus in their lives but she was damned if she was going to let Minerva get away with treating her the was she did.
Hogwarts, a few hours later...
Monday. Stereotypical as it may be, Minerva absolutely abhorred Mondays and especially the last Monday before term. It meant a staff meeting where she had to endure last minute attempts to alter the budgets which her staff damn well knew she wouldn't be able to approve. This particular Monday was especially high on the animagus' shit list because all she wanted to do was run to Hermione and beg for forgiveness personally. It was clear that letters could not persuade her, no matter how heartfelt they were.
Her patronus had bounded off to find her deputy a few minutes ago so she expected Filius to appear any minute now. Burning with the desire to have the meeting out of her hair, she had nothing better to do than abuse the magical carpet in her room by digging a hole into it with her pacing. The sharp heels of her boots connected with the material in a soft thud, which was, she thought absently, oddly out of sync with the pounding of her heart.
Suddenly her attention was grabbed by the distant creaking of stone which her sensitive ears picked up coming from behind her door. The stone gargoyle guarding her office had just revealed the staircase leading up. Somewhat uncharacteristically, she was feeling rather anxious to see her deputy for she was about to ask something that had never happened during her forty something year career. She was going to ask for a replacement willingly.
"Filius, good morning. I trust my patronus was not too early?" Minerva greeted the half-goblin as he appeared through the arched door.
"Good morning, Minerva. Not at all. I was enjoying the morning sunshine and a cup of tea before today's meeting." Filius replied, sharp eyes analysing the witch standing before him. One of the skills he could hone to uncanny perfection in Ravenclaw was to notice the very quality of the air changing around people, not to mention their subtle body language. Minerva's reaction to his last two words made him come to the very logical conclusion that she in fact wished to speak to him about said meeting. 'Why else would she want to meet me beforehand?'
"Ah, yes, Filius, today's meeting. I'm afraid, my friend, that we have to write history today." Minerva started somewhat mysteriously. When the charms professor's left eyebrow shot up quizzically in reaction to the odd statement she blurted out her request. "Nothing as taxing as the most recent historical events. I merely need to request that you fill in for me today."
An owl hooted softly as he landed on the sill of the open window, alerting his owner to his return. Hermione had brought the brownish grey barn owl about two years ago and he proved to be quite the loyal and affectionate type. She'd been slightly worried about buying her own owl after having been subjected to several nips and bites from Sirius', but she bought Beo hoping that she'd rather luck out with one more similar in personality to Hedwig.
She was grateful for the shop keeper's advice who told her to spend some time in the owlery and see which one flew to her willingly instead of picking one herself. She felt miserable for the first fifteen minutes as the owls she walked past ignored her, some even turning their back on her. Oddly enough she was assaulted by memories of her first flying lesson which proved to be a similar failure. But when she reached Beo's perch the owl only took a few seconds to look her in the eye before taking flight and landing on her shoulder. She had never admitted it to anyone but Minerva that she squeaked in terror when the bird approached her thus, expecting an attack of some sorts.
"Hello Beo." Hermione said as she affectionately caressed the bird's head. She remembered his alarmed expression when she almost screamed at him during their first encounter and how much he had grown on her since then. She gave him a nice juicy piece of bacon to gobble up before he sat back on his perch in the living room.
The brunette witch took one look at the letter her owl had brought and knew immediately what it was. 'The test results.' It was in a regular muggle envelope that was different from wizarding paper both in shape and size so it was unmistakable. She picked up the letter with trembling hands and nearly tore it in half in her frenzy to open it.
Minerva had to admit that she had always loved muggle florist shops. The scent that filled her sensitive nose even before she entered, the unparalleled freshness of the air despite the closed space was something she enjoyed immensely. Granted, she did not do a lot of shopping in muggle London but it was all the more reason to cherish those few occasions.
However, whether this particular occasion would be cherished or not was yet to be determined. The animagus vaguely dreaded the moment when she had to knock on Hermione's door. She chose to go about her apology the muggle way, hoping that the younger woman would appreciate the gesture.
Minerva started collecting all her knowledge of muggle flowers as she stepped across the threshold of the florist shop she knew was closest to Hermione's flat. A middle-aged-looking muggle woman directed her attention away from the bouquet she had been working on when the tiny bell attached to the entrance announced her arrival.
"Good morning! How are you to day?" She said with a smile.
Muggles' tendency to ask that question but never actually be interested in the truthful answer always unnerved Minerva. She prided herself on being quite successful in interacting with muggles but she always had to remind herself of the pleasantries that were customary among them and the appropriate replies.
"I'm fine thank you. And yourself?" Minerva replied almost mechanically. 'Returning the question was almost as important...'
"Likewise, thank you. What my I help you with?" The florist asked.
"Well..." Minerva stammered uncharacteristically over her words. She had not quite selected a flower yet, but in her mind she wished for something that was not too cliché for an 'I'm sorry I was a pig-headed asshole' conversation. "I'd like a bouquet that says that I'm sorry for my actions. It should also say I love you but more personal than red roses? I don't want it to be very cliché. She deserves so much more." Minerva said. Only when a look of surprise flashed in the shopkeeper's eyes did she remember that same sex relationships were not quite as commonly accepted among muggles. To the woman's credit though, she masked her surprise within a second with a professional smile of understanding, turning her eyes to the cut flowers on the side.
"If you want to go for a more personal bouquet I think I might have just the thing in mind." The woman said, her eyes lighting up at the possibility of an interesting arrangement. "What are your zodiac signs?"
It was the animagus' turn to mask the look of surprise and utter confusion on her face. 'What the bloody hell does zodiac signs have to do with flowers?' She wondered silently as she racked her brain to remember what Hermione's zodiac might be. She knew the younger woman's birthday obviously but she was helplessly handicapped in anything that had anything to do, even remotely, with divination. "Ummm... I think she's a Virgo and I'm a Libra? September 19th and October 4th?" She finally said, hoping that being unsure about such frivolities would not be odd.
The woman smiled at her and nodded approvingly, assuming that this older customer was not really interested in esoteric things. "Right you are. Now, how would you like a nice composition of daisies and hydrangeas with a bit of ivy to go with it?" She said, her eyes lighting up as she said it.
"Oh, you know, this is really a lucky constellation for an apology!" She exclaimed as she gathered some of the flowers she mentioned to show Minerva what the bouquet would look like. "The daisy is... it represents the Virgo sign" the woman stumbled over her words momentarily. She did not want to assume anything about the relationship this woman might have with the other woman she was apologizing to, so she tried to go with a more neutral description.
She held out a couple of daisies for Minerva to see. "They come in a wide variety of colours so if you like them go ahead and pick which ones you like best. The daisy also symbolizes innocence and loyal love." She explained.
"And the Hydrangeas?" Minerva asked, her interest piqued. 'This muggle science of flowers seems to have some merit. I need to remember what this woman is saying, perhaps Hermione might like it.'
"Oh that is a very interesting flower, very interesting indeed. It has both positive and negative aspects. Primarily they symbolize heartfelt emotions but they can also express gratitude for being understood." She florist explained, getting more excited with each flower she picked. She was happy for a customer that didn't just come in, ask for something specific or boring and leave. The most interesting part of her job was when she got to help people understand flowers more.
„And what's the negative interpretation?" The animagus asked. There were some aspects of Herbology which she was fairly good at, although she never had the patience to actually care for the plants. Part of her problem with them was that many couldn't tell her if they needed watering or anything.
„In its negative sense the hydrangea symbolizes frigidity and heartlessness." The woman said solemnly. „But we'll just concentrate on the positive aspects, won't we? No sense dwelling on the bad things is what I always told my children." The florist said with a reassuring smile.
'Heartlessness, eh? My god, woman, if only you knew...' Minerva mused at the ridiculous coincidence. For it must be a coincidence, her analytical mind refused to believe that zodiac signs or this flower interpretation truly had any bearing on their lives. 'I certainly was a heartless barbarian, leaving Hermione like that...'
"I think I'm quite taken with the idea. And the ivy?" Minerva said approvingly.
"That's the 'I'm sorry' part." The florist said, turning to her stock of greens used to decorate bouquets. "It also says that although you may have made a mistake, you are dependable and committed to the relationship you have with the person." She picked a string of ivy from the pile, experimentally wrapping it around a few flowers for show. "Extraordinarily, the ivy also happens to be your Celtic sign...judging by your accent you are Scottish? Your astrological fit is almost uncommonly perfect."
"Brilliant, I'll take it!" Minerva said immediately. All the things the florist said about these flowers sounded almost too perfect for Minerva to believe. Had she not been analytical and logical to a fault she would have been inclined to say that even the starts wanted them to be together. 'Bah, a load of rubbish that is. But muggles certainly seem to have an uncanny talent for coincidences.'
Hermione's flat...
The younger witch's flat was littered with crumpled balls of parchment, each draft of a letter she wanted to send to her lover discarded almost as soon as she finished writing it. Upon reading the results her first reaction was to release the air that threatened to explode her lungs, relief flooding her senses. She was immensely grateful that she could cross rape and obliviation off the list of possibilities. The last thing she needed was to find out that her child had been the product of aggression and violence rather than love.
Eventually the brains of the Golden trio decided that less was sometimes more, a sentiment she could never successfully apply to her work while at Hogwarts, and so resolved to send the test results without an accompanying letter. The numbers and the verbal explanation printed on the paper would scream 'I told you so' louder than anything she could say.
With slightly trembling hands she picked the letter off the table and folded it in half to fit a standard wizarding envelope, quickly scribbling Minerva's name on it.
Stepping to her faithful owl, she once again petted his head. "Beo, can you please take this to Minerva?" She said, handing it to the owl who took it in his beak. However, to Hermione's surprise, the bird refused to budge.
"What's wrong, Beo? Too tired? I can ask for a post owl if you feel you need to rest." Hermione said democratically. Although she knew house elves and owls were quite a different category altogether, she still felt that she was responsible for the bird's well being and didn't like the idea of overworking him. Scotland was far away from London.
To her surprise the owl's response was to increase the pressure of his beak on the paper which she could see by the slight dent it caused in the shape of the envelope. "Well, alright then. I didn't mean to insult you. But why aren't you taking off?" She said more to herself than to the bird really, knowing that he couldn't really reply in any humanly intelligible way.
She was jolted from pondering her predicament by the doorbell.
"Now who might that be?" Hermione wondered out loud. She shot Beo a suspicious glance. 'Surly not...'
She crossed the small living room to the front door and peeked through the spy hole but couldn't see who her visitor might be. All she could see was some kind of blue material blocking her line of sight.
The brunette witch had always been a cautious type but she honed this trait to the highest level during the war which meant that she never went anywhere, even inside her own flat, without her wand. She had it ready behind her back when she opened the door, only to find one Minerva McGonagall cradling a bouquet of colourful flowers in one hand and sporting an immensely guilty look on her face.
TBC
I used Google to find flower meanings and zodiac signs, none of the above is made up or altered to fit the story. In my mind it's just proof that these two really are meant to be together.
Thanks again for your reviews so far, I do so love it when people interact with my stories! :) I'm still debating reacting publicly to the hypotheses I got so far (did so in PM) but I'm not sure if it wouldn't give away too many spoilers? What do you think?
Please review and let me know how this story is turning out!
