Chapter Six
If Minerva didn't know that Goblins tended to be possessive, she'd have kissed Genia Flitwick by now. As Head Girl, Genia had a room all to herself, and had taken it upon herself to spread around the school that the two of them were dating. As it was explained to Minerva after Genia had already implemented her grand scheme, it would make it completely unremarkable that Minerva began spending nights, supposedly, in the Head Girl's room.
This of course left Minerva quite free to spend the night in Hermione's quarters, Flooing between there and Genia's room each evening and morning so it appeared to everyone else she was doing exactly as they said. As a rule, students weren't allowed to spend the night in one another's beds, but the Professors tended to turn a blind eye for the Head Boy and Girl, figuring they were overage and had proven themselves responsible. Genia said that Keating had pulled her aside privately to confirm, having been aware they she was seeing Melok, and Genia had told him that, yes, she was seeing Melok, but given the general disapproval of that, she and Minerva were spreading the rumor they were, and that they were sharing space as a test run given they were thinking of getting a flat together after graduation. Keating had found this to be perfectly plausible and according to Hermione, passed the information along to the rest of the staff.
It was nearing curfew near the end of February now, and as usual Minerva was already in Hermione's quarters. The pair were readying for bed, by now at a point in their relationship that while they did love shagging the daylights out of one another, they didn't feel a need to do so every day, and just enjoyed the ability to sleep together at night. Minerva loved this. She knew it likely wouldn't last, but she planned to enjoy every moment she could with Hermione Dagworth.
There was a knock on the door.
"Stay here," Hermione murmured, pulling her robe off a hook and wrapping it around her. "It's likely one of the professors, probably just needing to tell me about a staff meeting update or something."
"Sure," Minerva replied, pulling on her own robe just in case. While ideally, they were not about to get caught, on the off chance someone already knew she was here, she'd rather not be dragged out of Hermione's bedroom in nothing but her nightgown.
Casting a spell on the door to allow for one way viewing so she could see what was going on in the other room, Minerva settled behind the door as silent as a cat and watched as her lover went to open the door. It was Professor Dumbledore. She swallowed hard, not liking the fact that it was her bloody Head of House coming to call.
"Professor Dagworth," he greeted calmly. "I'm sorry for the hour, but I just finished checking on my House and I was hoping for a word. May I come in?"
"Certainly, Professor," Hermione said, keeping her voice level. Minerva frowned as her lover closed the door behind him, noticing her flick her wand in a subtle way that made the Scottish Witch sure she'd cast some sort of spell. She wasn't sure what. "What can I help you with?" she asked.
"I was in Diagon Alley yesterday, and had a curious conversion with Garrick Ollivander," Dumbledore said. "He told me that his daughter Elise had Owled, inquiring about the causes of a displaced aura. He told her, of course, but it got me thinking. I wondered why young Miss Ollivander might be asking such an odd question. Seven years she's been in this school, looking at the same people and same things, and it hadn't come up before. Then it crossed my mind that there is a new element at Hogwarts this year. You. A viewing through a rather unique magical artifact in my possession confirmed it. You have a displaced aura. That of course does help explain why none of us had ever realized Olivia Dagworth had a second daughter before - she doesn't. You are not her daughter. Either she magically adopted you, despite your being a grown Witch, or you are displaced from another time or reality."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Have you gone to anyone else with your suppositions?"
Albus shook his head. "I have not. I believe it is more likely that you are from another time or reality, and in each of those cases it is paramount that your knowledge which differs from or predates our time-space not influence the coming course of events. I'm sure you're well aware of this. I come here not to garner information, Professor Dagworth, but merely to confirm my suppositions and to confirm we are of the same mind regarding what you can and cannot do with what knowledge you may have."
Minerva watched as her lover let out a sigh of exasperation. "I'd really hoped to avoid you putting things together," she said. "Time. I come from the future. More than fifty years."
"What are you doing here?" Dumbledore asked.
"It was an accident," Hermione huffed. "Trust me, I'd not have done this on purpose. Also, for the bloody record, I am a Dagworth. Olivia may not be my mother, but we are kin. She isn't helping me arbitrarily."
Minerva saw Dumbledore begin pacing, silent for a moment. "I know what I must not ask, and yet there are worries I have, and I can't help but think you may have some knowledge of things to come which you might be able to at least offer hints at. Not direct information, but hints, at least."
"You always were fond of the double standard," Hermione said, glaring. "Even if I didn't share your thoughts regarding the corruption of the timeline, I find myself ill inclined to share anything with you, Albus."
"Such animosity," he mused. "Of course, I expect nothing else from a Slytherin. I presume that was your House, given it was suggested by Olivia that had you attended, you'd have gone there."
Hermione pursed her lips. "One day, you'll trust your secrets and your life to a Slytherin. Sometime between now and the future I come from, you might want to do some soul searching to that end."
Dumbledore sighed. "That I shall. Good evening, Professor Dagworth."
Minerva was startled by the animosity radiating from her lover as she lifted her wand and flicked toward the door, forcing it open with a bang. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."
Just as her Head of House was about to cross the threshold, he turned back toward her. "One last question. I've taken note of how you seem to have become friends with Miss McGonagall. Why would you do that? She is your student, after all. It's hardly appropriate."
Hermione let out a weak laugh. "She is wise beyond her years, and she was my friend and confidant long before I came here. You're an idiot if you don't see her tremendous value."
He said nothing, just nodding, and then continued on his way, Hermione shutting the door behind him with a bit less violence than she'd opened it with. She looked weary as she leaned up against it, taking a minute to collect herself before heading back toward the bedroom. Minerva quickly canceled the spell and backed away from the door, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for her lover to enter. "You okay?" she asked, as Hermione came into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click.
"I take it you overheard everything?"
"Well you didn't say I couldn't eavesdrop," Minerva pointed out.
"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," Hermione said dryly.
The Scottish woman rolled her eyes. "I'm not a cat."
Hermione stared at her for a moment, and then let out a laugh. It was a short laugh at first, and then she kept going, until she was nearly doubled over for the effort. Eventually, she got hold of herself and stood back up, moving forward and pressing a kiss to Minerva's lips. "Yet," she said with a grin.
Minerva frowned, trying to understand the joke. "What do you mean, yet?"
"You're going for your Transfiguration Mastery, Minerva," Hermione said in a sing-songy voice. "Animagus training ring a bell?"
The Scottish woman's jaw dropped. "Oh. Yet."
Minerva was in the Head Girl dorm with Genia and Elise, spending time with the girls after having spent a good deal of the afternoon on the Quidditch pitch with Ignatius and Roland. Hermione was insistent that she not neglect her friendships just to spend time with her, reminding her lover that she was still a Professor of Hogwarts and did still have classes to teach and papers to mark, and could not spend every waking moment with Minerva, as much as the nineteen year old wished otherwise.
"If you weren't already set to take up with Professor Dumbledore," Genia asked, "who might you choose to do a Transfiguration Mastery under, Minerva?"
The Scottish Witch frowned. "Probably Browning. He's made a lot of advances in the field in the last thirty years or so. I might have considered him as my first choice if not for the fact that my goal is to come back and teach here eventually, so it made sense to pick a Master who could train me in Transfiguration, as well as train me to teach. Browning is an academic, primarily, although he also writes textbooks."
"Yes," Genia said, nodding. "He wrote our First through Fourth Year textbooks for Transfiguration. I think the Fifth Year one was published last year, and the Sixth Year one should be done in the next couple of years. After that he'll only have one more to go before he's covered the whole curriculum."
"Why do you ask?" Elise inquired. "Are you thinking of going for a Transfiguration Mastery, too?"
"I am," Genia admitted, which made Minerva smile brightly. The two of them were the best in their year at the subject, and she would admittedly enjoy it if they could continue the study together.
"What prompted that?" Minerva asked. "I thought you were just going to marry Melok, have the future Head of Ravenclaw, and enjoy being a Mum."
Genia rolled her eyes at the mention of her future son. "Well, Melok worries that if we marry straight away, people will think he forced me into it. He thinks it would be best if I pursue a Mastery Program first, and we marry afterward, so that everyone can see that I'm my own woman who can make her own decisions, and that if I ever did want to leave him, I'd be free to do so and had a Mastery to fall back on."
"Paranoid Goblin," Elise snorted.
"Smart paranoid Goblin," Minerva said pointedly. "I doubt it will win over your parents, but waiting a few more years would help the public adjust to the idea, and make them realize you and Melok are a steady couple. Besides, Hermione says Filius doesn't come along until fifty four. Something about her being shocked to learn he was only a bit older than the Marauders."
"Who are the Mauraders?" Genia asked, snorting. "What a stupid moniker."
Minerva shook her head. "My thoughts exactly, and I have no idea. As often happens, she'll mention something and when I ask about it, she clamps down. I imagine I'll figure it out someday. Whoever they are, I'll bet they're important."
"Important to her, anyway," Elise shrugged. "Just because they're important to Hermione doesn't mean they're important to the grand tapestry of history."
"I get the impression that most of what's important to Hermione is what's important to the grand design," Genia mused. "She doesn't talk about anything but the war, don't you see? She doesn't talk about her family, or her friends, or the people she went to school with. She talks about the war, and the Order, and Harry Potter and how important he is. Do you figure Harry is any relation to Charlus Potter? Head Boy our Second Year?"
"He'd have to be," Minerva said, thinking. "Charlus is an only child, and I don't think he has any uncles, either. He married Dorea Black, didn't he? Have they got a child yet?"
"Not that I've heard of," Elise shrugged. "My father tends to keep up on all that, especially with the old houses. He'd have mentioned it if a Potter had been born. We have to assume at some point Charlus and Dorea will have to have a son, you figure, if the line is to continue. If Hermione is from fifty something years in the future, I doubt Harry is their son, so he'll likely be a grandson or great grandson."
"What do you figure is so important about Harry, anyhow?" Genia asked, looking thoughtful. "I mean, obviously Hermione isn't in love with him, so it's not that. She's a Dagworth, not a Potter, so it's not that he's family to her."
"Unless that generation of Dagworths are Potters," Elise pointed out. "She's only said that she's kin to the Dagworths. Not that she had the name."
Minerva had to admit Elise had a point there. Hermione had never explicitly stated that her real surname was Dagworth. "I'll ask her about that. Sometimes she'll give on things, sometimes she won't. I'd sort of like to know for certain who she is when she comes to Hogwarts. I mean, I don't want to look at every little girl with curly hair and brown eyes who sorts to Slytherin and wonder if she'll grow up to be my lover."
"She's Muggleborn," Genia said softly. "She mentioned that to me when we were talking about my son. Odd for a Muggleborn to sort to Slytherin. Not unheard of, and I suppose it would make sense considering she only thought she was Muggleborn. She'd really have been Squib born, if she descended from the Dagworths."
"It would be the Dagworth-Grangers, in her time," Elise pointed out. "Remember that Olivia's daughter hyphenated her last name with that Muggleborn she married. Fifty odd years from now, it'll be the Dagworth-Granger family that she's related to."
"I hear Hector Dagworth-Granger is making quite a name for himself in the Potions field," Minerva mused. "My brother Robert mentioned him last time he Owled. They've done some work together at Mungo's."
"Did Robert ever say anything about an apprenticeship for me, Minerva?" Elise asked hopefully.
The Scottish woman nodded. "He promised to look into it. Honestly, your family name will likely help. Merlin. Me and Genia for Transfiguration. Elise, you're looking to be a Healer. Roland is already signed on for a Herbology Mastery with Belvina Burke, and Ignatius is going to the Auror Academy. We're all grown up, aren't we?"
"Why didn't Wood set up a Mastery with Beery?" Genia asked with a frown.
"Beery's already agreed to take on Pomona Sprout when she graduates," Minerva said with a shrug. "Sprout is supposed to be on a track to become a professor, same as me."
"The Hufflepuff?" Elise asked, frowning. "Isn't she Beery's ward?"
"Since last year, yes," Genia said with a nod. "She's Muggleborn, and from what I hear her parents didn't take well to her being a Witch. They treated her so badly that Wizarding Child Services had no choice but to step in. Professor Beery already had his eye on her to take on as an Apprentice, and he never did marry, so he figured it was a streamline solution for everyone involved. She'd get a home, a paid-for apprenticeship, and then when that was done he'd train her to teach, and eventually he'll retire and she'll just take his place. He also gets an heir, all wrapped up neatly."
"Likely she'll end up Head of Hufflepuff, same as him, too," Minerva mused, "like I'll be Head of Gryffindor after Dumbledore, and Filius Head of Ravenclaw after Keating. I wonder who will be Head of Slytherin after Slughorn. Hermione mentioned that Slughorn retires eventually, and someone takes over for him, but that for some reason he leaves and Slughorn gets dragged out of retirement before the end of her education."
Elise huffed. "I'm less worried about that and more wondering when the bloody hell we're getting rid of Pringle. He's a menace to Hogwarts!"
Minerva smirked. "Hermione told me that answer. You know Professor Filch, right?"
"The Latin teacher?" Genia asked. "What about her?"
"That Squib boy of hers, Argus. He takes over after Pringle, and according to Hermione, he's worse," Minerva went on.
"Ugh!" Elise said. "He's a prat now. I can't imagine when he's a crotchety old prat! Thank Merlin this is our last year here!"
All three girls giggled, sipping on butterbeers and speculating about the future until it was close to curfew and time for Elise to head back to dorms and Minerva to head over to Hermione's. The Scottish Witch took the Floo, appearing in her lover's living area with a smile on her face.
"Have a good evening?" Hermione asked.
"The girls and I spent some time speculating about the future," Minerva admitted. "Out of curiosity, what's your surname? Your real surname? We realized that you've said you're a Dagworth, but not specifically that your surname was Dagworth."
Hermione shook her head, chuckling. "Leave it to a trio of Ravenclaws to notice the details. It's Granger, although honestly I've gotten so used to Dagworth at this point, I may very well change it when I get back. Olivia wishes I would. By my time, it's just the Dagworth-Grangers. I descend from Constance's Squib son, John, who took his father's name when he moved into the Muggle world. Ergo, Granger. Olivia is a bit sore about the hyphenation, and thinks that if I go back, or rather forward with the Dagworth name, then there's a chance for that name alone to have a comeback."
"Only if we have children," Minerva pointed out.
"That is what she said, but I didn't want to assume you'd be open to the notion," Hermione admitted. "Olivia has no tact. At all."
"I'm a Ross. Neither do I," the Scottish woman mused. "I'm also evidently going to be a renowned Transfiguration Master so I figure I should be more than qualified to Transfigure my anatomy where I need to in order to get you pregnant."
"Oh, so you're not going to get pregnant?" Hermione laughed, looking incredulous.
"Well certainly not at nineteen years old right before you leave me for fifty odd years, making your child decades your senior by the time you meet them," she remarked. "I'm also unlikely to be keen on it at seventy four years old. Being a parent at that age, sure. Being pregnant? That's stretching it a bit."
"Alright, alright, you've made your case," the other woman said, kissing her lips softly. "I'll be the one getting pregnant, presuming you still want to be with me."
Minerva rolled her eyes. "Don't start that again, Hermione. I'm not really in a position to storm off in a huff right now."
"I'm sorry," her lover said softly. "I just hate to think of you alone all those years."
"I won't be alone. I'll have Genia and Elise, and Roland and Iggy," she said firmly. "I'll have my brothers and I'll even have that brief marriage you mentioned although I don't foresee shagging the bloke more than absolutely required. Besides, I'll be much too busy looking out for Harry Potter to fuss with notions of romance."
"Harry won't be born until nineteen eighty, darling," Hermione said, hands on her hips. "What will your excuse be between now and then?"
"Until you leave, you. After you leave, grief," she said primly. "I imagine that by the time I can even fathom being with someone else, I'll have made it up to Harry's birth and that marriage you mentioned, and then after that, well, busy, busy, busy."
Hermione huffed. "You are a stubborn woman, you know that right?"
Minerva shook her head. "I asked my father once, because he struggles so much to reconcile his faith with the fact that his wife and daughter are Witches and his sons are Wizards, why he didn't just leave us - why he didn't leave her. He told me that above being a Rector, he was a man and a McGonagall, and McGonagalls were old Highland Scots. He said that if there is one fundamental truth of a Highland Scot, it's that when they love, they love deeply and eternally, and there is nothing to be done for it. It's just in the blood. Call me stubborn all you like, Hermione, but that isn't it at all. I'm a McGonagall, a Highland Scot, and I love you."
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