Well, over 40 reviews in less than a day - I'd say that's deserving of another chapter. Here's chapter two for you wonderful readers, and as soon as I post this, I'm going back to work. Work being the writing of chapter 3. On a roll here, and it has everything to do with your overwhelming support! Thank you all so much!

Hermione had managed to come up with a passable reason for moving back to Hogwarts, to tell Harry and Ron - she was planning to start a Mastery under Minerva in the fall. They'd believed her, even if it wasn't true, though that was only because she'd previously expressed interest in doing just that. Maybe, down the road, she'd talk to Minerva about actually training for her Transfiguration Mastery, but for now, the younger woman didn't want to ask more of her mentor than she already was.

Harry and Ron were helping her pack at the moment. They were mostly done, at which point the boys would escort her to Hogwarts, dropping her things in one of the staff quarters, and later on Hermione would move them to Minerva's from there. A wave of nausea rushed over the brunette suddenly, causing her to brace herself against a wall and take a few deep breaths.

"All packed!" Harry announced a moment later. "Say, Hermione, you don't look well. Do you want me to side-along apparate you to Hogwarts?"

Oh hell no, Hermione thought venomously. She was never going to do that again. "I'll manage just fine on my own," she said. "Just feeling a big sick. I'm probably hungry - I'll go down to the kitchens after we've dropped my things off."

"We could floo over instead," Ron suggested. "Apparating can be dangerous if you're not totally focused."

"True," Hermione agreed, knowing full well exactly what sort of dangers were involved. "That's a good idea, Ron. I'm sure the Headmistress won't mind."

"Great," Ron said, looking relieved. "Besides, that will save us the walk up from Hogsmeade."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Typical Ron. A few minutes later, the three of them were tumbling out of the fireplace in the Head's office, greeted by Minerva. "Welcome," the Scottish witch said. "It's good to see you all."

"It was good of you to let Hermione move in before term starts," Harry said politely. "She'll be glad to have time to settle in before starting all the studying. It was not really a surprise when she told us she was starting a Mastery right away."

Hermione's eyes met Minerva's, and found understanding for the lie. There was also amusement in the emerald orbs, though Hermione had no idea what the older woman found so funny. This situation was awkward enough as it was, and Hermione was not looking forward to telling her friends exactly why she was probably going to marry Minerva McGonagall.

Gods, what was she going to tell her parents?

Minerva had never in her life shared quarters. She'd had lovers over the years, but none she'd actually had move in. Granted, none of them had been carrying her child. While decidedly uncomfortable with the entire situation, the older witch was putting on a brave face. While her decision to pursue marriage with Hermione Granger was not one based on guilt for having gotten her pregnant (however unintended), it was guilt that drove her to set aside her preference for solitude.

She'd been one of three children born with the McGonagall name. She'd had two brothers to carry on the legacy, so her parents had not been too concerned when she announced that she was a lesbian. Then, the war had taken the lives of her parents, and then later, the lives of both of her brothers, before either had found wives or started families. Had her father still been alive after Malcolm had died, Minerva knew she would have been told it was now her duty to carry on the family name.

But she hadn't. For years, she didn't seek a partner to have children with merely because she felt she had plenty of time. Then, she told herself that for the time being, she needed to focus on her career, and before she knew it, Minerva was no longer as young and desirable as she'd once been, and she was decidedly past child bearing age. When Hermione had announced her pregnancy, Minerva knew in an instant that this was her last chance to do what her father would have wanted; bring an heir to the name McGonagall into the world. Of course, wizarding law being what it was, in order to make Hermione's child a McGonagall, that meant they had to marry.

"I cleared some space on my bookshelves," Minerva said absently, noting Hermione beginning to unpack a box of books.

"I noticed," Hermione replied. "I also saw that your books are in alphabetical order. Would you prefer I shelve my books apart from your collection, or shall I insert mine in the correct places per your existing system? If I do that, we can save shelf space as I'll be able to not add books we both have copies of. I can keep those in storage, and if this arrangement works in the long term, I'll just donate my copies to the school library."

Minerva smiled, pleased that Hermione was apparently optimistic about their living together working out. As the older woman figured it, it was not the notion of living together, or even raising a child together, that had Hermione concerned. For her, the major worry was sex. Minerva couldn't blame the younger woman for that, but was confident it could be overcome. She'd just… take it slow. "As you wish," she stated in agreement to the plan about the books.

This week, she'd make an effort to touch Hermione. A hand on her shoulder, and things like that. Next week, the touches would linger. The week after that, Minerva would push the boundaries, and initiate contact that could be attributed to a close friendship; the older witch admitted to herself that she was looking forward to running her fingers through Hermione's hair. She wondered if Hermione was a cuddler.

Minerva already knew Hermione well enough to be able to seek a connection on an emotional level, and how to read the younger woman's body language. She was fairly certain that after spending nine months of the year with Hermione in close proximity, living together wouldn't be all that hard. They certainly had plenty in common. On that note…

"You're going to have to tell your friends what's going on eventually," she stated, thinking about how Hermione had apparently lied to Harry and Ronald about why she was moving to Hogwarts.

"I know," Hermione said quietly, pausing in her book shelving efforts. "But even in the case of normal pregnancy, it's wise to wait till after the first trimester before making announcements. So much can go wrong."

"Reasonable," Minerva agreed. "But the end of the first trimester is three weeks from now. Depending on how you carry, the pregnancy could start to show about the same time. I'd prefer to make an announcement before people start to make assumptions."

"Who cares what people think?" Hermione asked.

Minerva peered at her prodege over her glasses intently. "Hermione, it's no secret you've moved to Hogwarts. Once term begins, any number of students will be happy to report to the outside world that you've been seen coming and going from my quarters. If we allow people to assume what brought about this pregnancy, then we are asking for them to draw the most probable conclusion - that you and I have been carrying on an illicit affair. It would not be unreasonable for people to further speculate that we were secretly involved whilst you were a student under my care, or that I took you to bed prior to your seventeenth birthday. I'd prefer to keep my career, not to mention my personal integrity, in tact."

Hermione paled slightly, then nodded. "Of course. I wasn't thinking. In that case, I'm guessing that when we announce this, it should be a formal announcement?"

Minerva sighed. "Yes, though I'm going to call in some markers to get a journalist I can trust to do the interview. The last thing we want is for someone like Rita Skeeter to take on the story. She'd make things worse than we could by allowing people to simply speculate."

"Agreed!" the younger witch huffed. "Though if she did try to write something, I could have her arrested."

"On what charge?"

"She's an unregistered Animagus," Hermione confided.

"Ahhh," Minerva breathed, filing that information away. "Oh, Hermione, on that subject, if you wish to study for a Transfiguration Mastery, I'd be happy to teach you. You're already living with me, and sans the body morphing aspects of the syllabus, your pregnancy wouldn't get in the way of that study."

Hermione blushed. "I would like to, but I couldn't put that on your plate… I've asked so much of you already."

The older woman let out a laugh. "My dear, you're the one that's pregnant. If anyone is asking a lot, it is I. You could have easily aborted this child and I would have been none the wiser."

"Even if I supported abortion, which I don't for the record," Hermione said. "I would never have gone through that without speaking to you - I respect you far too much to have done that."

"Still, don't you worry about what you're adding to my plate," Minerva replied, keeping on topic. "If you want to earn your Transfiguration Mastery, we can start as soon as I file the paperwork at the Ministry. That usually takes a week, so that should be ample time for you to settle in here."

"It's a plan!" Hermione agreed with a bright smile.

On that note, Minerva realized it was the first time she'd seen Hermione really smile in a long time. Pity - the young woman had a beautiful smile. The older witch resolved to make serious effort in getting Hermione to smile more often.

Hermione was growing accustomed to Minerva's little touches. She knew full well what the older witch was playing at, and despite herself, she found that she didn't mind the close contacts with her mentor. It was still very innocent, though she knew it wouldn't stay like that. From a strategic point of view, she had to give Minerva points. Starting slow like this was an ideal way to help Hermione adapt to physical affection from someone who previously she never would have touched.

It had been a week since she'd moved in with Minerva, and she was looking forward to starting the Mastery program on Monday. Hermione was more or less settled in, and Minerva had given her a room of her own that she'd been free to decorate how she pleased. The older woman had not hid her amusement at how similar their taste in decor was, nor did she pass up the opportunity to make a less than subtle remark about how decorating their house after they got married would not be a problem.

"Minerva?" Hermione called, hearing the door to their quarters open.

"I'm going to kill him!" she heard the Headmistress yell.

Hermione put down the quill she'd been using, and set aside the letter she'd been composing for Harry. She got up and made her way out to the main living area of their suite, just in time to see Minerva throw a glass at the door she'd just entered.

"With as often as you break glasses, it's a wonder you haven't run out," the brunette said softly. "What's wrong?"

"My bloody father!"

"Isn't he dead?" Hermione inquired, frowning in confusion.

Minerva stopped pacing and looked at her dumbly. "What?"

"You said 'I'm going to kill him', and if him is your father, then I am confused, as I was under the impression that Lord McGonagall died decades ago," Hermione explained.

The Scottish woman huffed. "His portrait. And a figure of speech. Bugger that man!"

"Ahhh," the younger woman sighed. "So you told him what's going on then?"

"Had to," Minerva said gruffly. "Needed his approval to marry you and figured I ought to get that business sorted sooner, rather than later. He's delighted, by the way. So delighted, in fact, that he shuffled his way through no less than twelve other paintings in order to make his way here to Hogwarts, so he could tell Albus, who of course has not shut up about his own glee for the last six hours I've been trying to do paperwork in my office!"

"Can't blame him for being excited," a portrait of a sixteenth century knight chimed in from the wall to their left. "We're all very happy for you."

"Corrumpebant," Hermione said, flicking her wand in the knight's direction. All at once, the portrait was silent and still, as if it was a muggle painting.

"How did you do that?" Minerva demanded excitedly.

"I invented a spell, the summer we were living at Headquarters, to neutralize a portrait's magical elements for an hour," Hermione explained with a soft smile. "I'd be happy to teach it to you."

"I could kiss you!" the older woman exclaimed.

Hermione chuckled. "Perhaps another time. For now, I'd settle for a back massage."

"Your wish is my command," Minerva replied, pointing toward her own bedroom.

"I say no kisses, so she tries to get me into her bed," Hermione teased. "Really Minerva, I thought you were going to be subtle about your efforts to woo me."

"I don't recall promising to be subtle," the other woman teased back. "I merely stated that I would be wooing you. At this moment, I believe we can both get what we want, as your back massage will be a fine example of just how good it feels…"

Hermione shuddered as Minerva came up behind her, and began to ghost her fingers along the younger witch's sides. "Humm…"

"... to have my hands on you." Minerva finished, placing a light kiss just behind the brunette's ear.

"No kissing…" Hermione murmured. Despite herself, she leaned into Minerva's hold. "Don't want…"

"Keep telling yourself that, my dear," the older woman replied. "But I don't think you're nearly as straight as you thought."

PLEASE REVIEW!