A/N: A short bit of harmless Minerva/Hermione interaction-still getting a feel for each other (And in Minerva's case, herself!). Thank you all SO much for your reviews, they're definitely keeping me writing, and keeping me inspired. I suspect this story will be 11 or 12 chapters in total, but we'll just have to see where it goes. So far I have 7 chapters written and in the process of being edited. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!
Minerva lay in her bed, listening to the sound of Hermione's breathing across the room, and toying restlessly with her hair. She couldn't sleep.
She had to find a way out of this situation—it was going to be detrimental to her career and her personal life as soon as it came out that she was masquerading as a student.
"But you're not masquerading, Minerva. You're an eighteen year old girl again, and you may not get to go back."
No, that wasn't even a possibility she would acknowledge, no matter how much that little voice in the back of her mind wanted her to. Severus and the Weasely twins were bound to find a solution, at which time she would return to her life, as it was.
"Most witches would kill for the chance to live life again."
No, that was just stupid. Sure, it was nice to be able to move without pain, and not need her glasses. And she couldn't deny that she far preferred her current appearance to that of her middle-aged self. But she was happy in her present life, and she didn't want to deal with being eighteen again.
Unfortunately, for the moment she had to deal with being eighteen again, which meant spending increasing amounts of time with her students. That wouldn't have been quite so bad, if it wasn't for the fact that she was actually enjoying it.
While she still preferred the company of a book over most people, she had enjoyed dinner with Hermione and her friends, and she had especially enjoyed Hermione. But how would her students feel when she returned to being their middle aged professor? Hermione had already said enough to her to make her feel betrayed.
In truth, Minerva had hoped just as much as her student that they could form a lasting friendship after she graduated, but now—Hermione was bound to feel betrayed after Minerva tricked her and lived with her under a fake name. After she listened to Hermione compliment her own work—thinking that she was just boasting to a fellow student.
Hermione would hate her.
And the boys, well they wouldn't be able to take her seriously at all. More than one of the Gryffindor men had tried to hit on her during dinner, and Harry and Ron had both mercilessly teased her as they spent time together this evening. All of them would be petrified of their formidable professor's reaction to such antics; they would either be terrified of her, or would laugh at her.
Minerva rolled on to her side, letting out a soft huff of frustration. How could she be both of these women at once?
In trying, she seemed to have lost herself entirely. She wasn't the fiery opinionated girl who had caused hell in her youth, nor was she the passionate powerful elegant woman she had grown into. She was just bland. She was polite, and quiet, and shy, and everything Minerva had never had much tolerance for.
"Damn it woman, you're not some wallflower. Get over it, and start acting like yourself."
"You're thinking so loudly I can hear you all the way over here," Hermione suddenly whispered from across the room, causing Minerva to start.
"I'm sorry!" she answered softly, "I didn't mean to keep you awake."
Hermione sat up in her bed, shrugging lightly, "You didn't, I'm a bit of an insomniac, truth be told. But I still try to sleep at night. I just noticed you were up, and wanted to see if you were alright."
Minerva sat up as well, running a hand through her loose hair. "I'm nervous for tomorrow," she answered, the honesty just flowing from her without constraint, "And I'm unsure about growing attached to people here. And I'm itching for an adventure, but simultaneously just want to disappear into a wall so no one notices me."
Hermione laughed, "Ron would say that it isn't possible for one person to feel that many things at once."
Minerva snorted, "Ron is a nice boy, but he's also a bit dim."
"He's one of my two best friends, but I can't deny it," she answered with a smile, "So you need some mischief? How can I help?"
Minerva laughed, "You're head girl, I can't very well consult you on mischief."
Hermione slid out of her bed carefully, padding over to her dresser. "I don't think you know me all that well yet, Mary. It may be time for you to meet the real Hermione Granger."
Minerva watched as she slipped a pair of jeans under her night gown, and looked away when the girl changed into a scarlet tank top. "Hermione, really, I can't ask you to get yourself into trouble for me," Minerva tried.
"To late, Mary," she said, a mischievous twinkle appearing in her eyes, "Now I'm not going to be able to sleep until I have an adventure, it's only a question of having one alone, or with you."
Minerva was surprised to find herself quickly moving towards her own dresser and pulling out a pair of pants she had purchased that morning, assuming she would need casual clothing at some point. "You're going to get me expelled before I even begin."
Soon enough the two were creeping down the stairs of the dormitories, and slipping into the common room. "Alright, Mary. If you could do anything right now, what would you choose? Absolutely anything."
Minerva shook her head slightly, "I don't know, Hermione."
The young Gryffindor stepped closer to her, "Anything!" she whispered, a grin spreading across her face.
"I'd fly," Minerva answered, before she even knew what she was saying. It seemed her inner eighteen year old wanted to come out and play after all.
Hermione's smile dimmed ever so slightly, but then came back, "Your wish is my command. We're going to go flying."
"Hermione," Minerva tried to reason, "We can't go flying, it's past midnight—if we were to be caught!"
"We won't be caught, I promise. And if we are, I'll make up an excuse. I'm the head girl, aren't I?" Hermione grabbed Minerva's hand and pulled her through the portrait hole.
Jogging through the corridors Minerva couldn't help but stare at her prized student, a small smile blooming despite her best intentions. Hermione had always been so focused on the rules, so desperate to please everyone and yet here she was, breaking all the rules for a bit of fun. It seemed as if Hermione had finally decided to live a little—war can have the effect on people.
"You know I guessed, earlier," she explained as they traveled. "I guessed that you weren't just bookish like myself, I thought you may have played quidditch from time to time."
Minerva stopped mid stride, an enormous smile lighting up her face.
Hermione turned back, tilting her head in question.
"I can play quidditch here," Minerva said with a dopey grin, she then took back of towards the pitch, jogging through the empty halls. "I haven't played quidditch in years."
"Why did you stop playing?"
"Bad shoulder injury a while back," she explained, and Hermione looked at her oddly. Minerva realized that what she was saying didn't make sense for her particular age. "I mean, I had a bad shoulder injury when I was 12 or so, and my Mum didn't want me to play after that. She was nervous that I would injure it further. I haven't been on a broom since."
"Well that's terrible. I don't fly myself, but I know Harry and Ron would go absolutely insane if they couldn't do it anymore."
"It nearly broke my heart," she replied quietly.
"Well," Hermione said, as they reached the doors, "Tonight we'll mend that, won't we?"
She opened the doors quickly and without a sound, causing Minerva to wonder just how often she snuck out of the castle at night. "Do you do this often?"
Hermione blushed lightly, "I never used to, but I stayed here over the summer, after the battle. And I had terrible nightmares, so I would wake in the middle of the night, and not be able to sleep again. I took to walking down by the lake until I could fall asleep. Sometimes I spent the whole night outside," she explained. "But I haven't done that much since school has been back in session. I don't want to be a bad influence."
Minerva smiled, "Unlike what you're doing now, running about in the middle of the night?"
Hermione stuck out her tongue childishly, "I think we both needed something to take our minds off of things."
"This way," she whispered, pulling Minerva towards the pitch. She made her way towards the broom shed, and Minerva was surprised when she opened it without difficulty.
"Don't they lock them up at all?" Minerva asked, knowing perfectly well what the answer should be.
"They did, but Harry may or may not have broken the lock off a couple of months ago when he wanted to go flying, but I didn't tell you that," At Minerva's questioning glance, Hermione just shrugged, "We all have our way of dealing with the nightmares. I walked, Harry flew."
Minerva nodded; she couldn't fault her students for that—especially those two students. Suddenly, Hermione was throwing a broom at her, "There you have it, Mary. Fresh air, a good broom—show me how it's done," she smiled.
It was as if Minerva's eighteen year old self took complete possession of her body at that point, and she found herself doing something she hadn't done since she was a student the first time. Instead of mounting her broom like a sane person would, she took off in a run, immediately rushing up into the stands, confusing Hermione more than a little bit. Sprinting up the stairs, she walked out in the Professor's stands, over 100 feet in the air, and then without a moment's hesitation she jumped.
The first thing Minerva noticed was the scream of Hermione, but soon enough even that was gone to her. She fell through the air and, as if she had been doing it every day for the past fifty years, threw the broom underneath her at the last moment, darting far from the ground and into the air.
When she was in her seventh year she had taken a nasty bludger to the right shoulder and fallen from a great height. The Mediwitch at the time wasn't quite as talented as Madame Pomfrey and while she retained complete use of her shoulder, she never could fly quite the same. It had been nearly fifty years since she had flown, and yet it felt like nothing. Obviously her body had de-aged itself just enough to avoid that injury.
From the ground, Hermione could only watch with a mixture of terror, and astonishment.
When Mary had dived off of the stands, she had nearly had a heart attack—she thought that the young witch had tricked her, that after her parent's tragic demise she had decided to end her life. While logically, Hermione knew this was a heavy assumption, emotionally she knew exactly how taxing the loss of a parent—or two, could be. As Mary plummeted towards the ground Hermione felt complete terror, self-loathing, and pain, but when her friend pulled out of the suicide dive Hermione's heart made a complete u-turn and soared with Mary, her fear quickly turning to astonishment.
Mary was over a hundred feet in the air, and while that would usually petrify Hermione, she could only watch her in admiration as she darted across the sky. She had obviously been very good when she hurt herself, a natural. And as her hair whipped behind her and her smile lit up the sky, Hermione felt as if she was watching something private and sacred. She felt blessed to see this beautiful woman let go of her fear and lose herself to her passion.
Hermione had always admired passion above all else. It's what made her love Harry, made her admire Professor McGonagall and the Weasely twins. All of them had such passion, it was impossible to not feel inspired by it. And this girl, Mary, she had that passion. Hermione could see why she was sorted into Gryffindor.
Hermione was surprised when she shot towards the ground again, cutting through the air straight towards Hermione. "Hermione!" she shouted as she flew, "Grab my hand!"
"What?" Hermione screamed, eyes wide.
"Grab my hand!"
And Hermione did.
She didn't know what on earth inspired her to; goodness knows Harry and Ron had tried to coax her onto a broom enough times, but without a second's hesitation she grabbed Mary's hand and felt her feet leave the ground.
Mary, despite her slim stature, pulled Hermione onto the broom without a moment's difficulty, and took off into the night. Mary, immediately noticing Hermione's quivering fear, slowed down and dropped closer to the ground. "You're afraid of flying?" she asked quietly.
"Petrified," Hermione whispered her eyes tightly shut and a slight shiver in her voice.
"Why did you take my hand then?"
Hermione laughed shakily, "I have no idea."
"You should open your eyes," Mary suggested softly.
Hermione took a breath, and then listened. Opening her eyes she found that they were flying over the lake, so close that their toes could practically skim the surface. "Oh wow," she whispered, causing Mary to smile.
"I figured that if you liked walking around the lake, you would most likely enjoy flying over it as well—though obviously I didn't take your terrible fear into account, sorry about that."
"No," Hermione whispered, "It's fine, this…this is different."
Mary smiled again, "Good."
They flew for several more minutes in silence, and Hermione couldn't help but think that this was a good way to lose her fear of flying—not with the death defying feats that Harry and Ron, and even Ginny, seemed to think necessary, but with the soft breeze through her hair and the moonlight in her eyes. This she could see a reason for.
"We should probably go back inside soon," Hermione whispered regretfully.
Mary just nodded, "It's my first day, I should probably try to get a bit of sleep."
"Mary," Hermione said unsurely, "Thank you for tonight. This was absolutely wonderful."
Light laughter trickled through Hermione's system, "I think you've forgotten, Miss. Granger, this was all your idea. Head Girl and all."
Hermione smiled, "I think I'd forgotten," she laughed, "I'm so used to being the one that everyone has to push to break a rule. It's nice to be the troublemaker for a change."
"Oh, so you're not the great troublemaker you tried to convince me of tonight?" Mary smirked.
"Perhaps not, but I caused a good amount tonight, didn't I?"
Mary shook her head as she landed softly on the quidditch pitch, "We could have been expelled."
Hermione put the broom away, closing the shed quietly behind her. "It could have been worth it."
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