Chapter Seven


It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Hermione was one of the Professors on duty to supervise. Minerva was somewhere around here with her friends, no doubt, although in the wake of Albus' questioning of their relationship, Hermione had advised her lover to not approach her more than in passing while they were in the Wizarding town today. It was well into March now, and the winter chill was beginning to pass, although Hermione still wore a heavy cloak to keep warm as the Highland breezes were anything but warm right now as they blew through the streets with fair frequency.

"Professor Dagworth," Horace Slughorn greeted her, coming up from behind.

Horace had taken special interest in her since her arrival, her relationship with Olivia sparking his intrigue as much as her clear skill had. That she was supposedly an apparent Slytherin likely hadn't hurt either, insinuating to him a sense of kinship. "Professor Slughorn," she greeted in turn, glancing up from the tray of jewelry she'd been inspecting at one of the shops in town.

"Something in particular you're looking for?" he asked.

She considered his question, in need of advice but not able to share the situation. "I have a student who I've been mentoring," she said, "who holds in high esteem a girl that, while he'd very much like to marry her, circumstances being what they are, it will be some time before that's possible. He feels it would be inappropriate to propose marriage outright, but he'd like to give her something to symbolize his devotion and care. I'm uncertain what to advise."

The Head of Slytherin looked at her curiously. "Where is the girl from? I'm not being nosy, Professor Dagworth. Culturally speaking, there are often regional traditions which the lad might be able to honor, ingratiating himself to the young lady's family as much as to her by showing he respected her heritage."

"She's from the Highlands," Hermione admitted, smiling a little, and appreciating the Potions Master's insight.

Horace leaned forward and peered at the trays of necklaces, rings, and bracelets in front of them for a moment, before reaching out and pointing to a section of the ring tray. "A Claddagh Ring would be an appropriate choice. It's sometimes referred to as a Scottish promise ring. Depending on what position the ring is worn and on which hand, it can signify being single, in a relationship, engaged, or even married. The heart is for love, the crown for loyalty, and the hands are a symbol for friendship. As you can see, the Claddagh can come in a very simple form out of plain metal, or it can be made quite elaborate with gems inset."

Hermione smiled. It was perfect. Now she just needed to pick out the right one. "Thank you, Horace. I'll pass that along."

"Good day to you, Hermione," he said, tipping his head forward a bit before walking out the door.

She turned her head back to the tray with the Claddagh rings and the shopkeeper chuckled lightly. "I can understand the story you told Sluggy, but I know that look, my dear," he said. "You've got the look of a woman in love. So which one will it be?"

Hermione glanced up at the man, huffing a bit. "Speculate away."

"I think I will," he said, looking amused. "There are only two Highland students in the upper years, and only one of them is a young lady. Miss McGonagall is quite lovely, and I daresay you'd be lucky to have her, Professor Dagworth."

"I trust you understand how important it is to keep that speculation to yourself," she warned, still looking at the rings. "What's this one made of?"

In her hands was a silver Claddagh ring, although she wasn't certain it was made of actual silver. It was too bright, and too cool to the touch. It had two small diamonds embedded on either side of the hands, and two more diamonds inside the crown. The heart was a dark emerald, and the band was a woven celtic knot overlaid on a smooth surface clearly meant to make the ring more comfortable. It was beautiful.

"That's Goblin steel," the shopkeeper said. "I don't often get my hands on that. It's a devil to work with, but some like a piece that is more durable. There are spells overlaid to protect the gems as well."

"It's perfect," she breathed. "Price?"

"Fifty Galleons, my dear," he said kindly.

Hermione shrugged off the cost and asked for a quill and parchment to write down her Gringotts information. She was working full time at Hogwarts, and had no real expenses to speak of. Olivia had insisted on paying for her wardrobe when she'd arrived, so she hadn't needed anything like that, and anything she needed for the classroom was paid for from her Professorship budget. Fifty Galleons was about two months of income for her, but in the grand scheme, that was nothing.

The shopkeeper wrapped the ring up neatly, and Hermione placed it in her pocket and returned to her chaperoning duties, intent on adding some spells to it before giving it to her lover. Minerva had two wars to get through without her, and Hermione would be damned if she didn't do something to help her survive it. She hadn't learned all those bloody wards for nothing, after all.


Minerva looked behind her at the sound of someone calling her name, smiling brightly as she saw her brother, Robert, although her smile faltered a bit when she saw her mother walking beside him. Taking a deep breath, she began walking toward them. "Robert. Mother," she greeted. "What brings you two to Hogsmeade?"

"You of course!" Rob said, smiling brightly as he pulled her into a hug.

She accepted a kiss on the cheek from her mother, and then crossed her arms and stared the older Witch down. "So, out with it, Mother. What is it? We both know full well you'd not be here if you didn't need to talk me into something I surely won't be inclined toward. I already know you had tea with the Lestranges this past fall, so out with it."

"As always," Isobel McGonagall said primly, "word travels fast in the Wizarding world. Minerva, you are nineteen years old and soon to graduate Hogwarts. It's time for you to start considering marriage prospects."

Minerva set her jaw. "No."

Isobel let out an incredulous laugh. "No? That's it? No?"

"Yes, Mother. No. If I marry, it will be on my own terms, when I wish and to whom I wish," she determined. "You've a lot of nerve thinking you'll arrange a marriage for me, when you defied your parents like you did and married Father."

"And look where that got me, Minerva McGonagall!" Isobel snapped. "Three half-blood children with no respect whatsoever for Pureblood tradition! I thought that perhaps some new blood into the Ross line would do it some good, but your father's stubbornness is so ingrained in you it's ridiculous! Can't you see that I'm trying to help you? That I'm trying to give you a better future? This is how it's done, daughter! You are heir to a dying line. Any number of the old houses would be thrilled to match themselves to you and claim the Ross legacy."

"So you'd sell me off to Rodion Lestrange?" Minerva seethed. "A bully and a dark arts fanatic?"

Isobel frowned. "Rodion is promised to Jillian Carrow, it seems. I was speaking to Bram Wood the other day, however…"

"Roland?" Minerva laughed. "I look at him like a brother! I'd sooner marry Tara!"

Isobel's eyes turned stormy, and Minerva gulped as she realized what she'd just admitted to her mother by suggesting she'd rather marry Roland's sister. "Excuse me?" the older McGonagall woman asked.

Robert moved to stand between the two Witches. "Mother, perhaps…"

Isobel raised her hand to silence her son. "Minerva, are you telling me that you… that you are a lesbian?"

Minerva took a deep breath. She was backed into a corner with nowhere to go but Gryffindor. "Yes," she admitted, standing as tall as she could manage, refusing to be ashamed.

Her mother stared at her in silence for a full minute, before letting out a sigh of resignation. "You best pray your father goes to his grave not knowing about this, Minerva. It's hard enough on him that you're a Witch. He'd not be able to get past this. I do hope you understand that fact."

Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. "Yes, Mother."

"I cannot neglect to disclose your sexual preferences when negotiating marriage contracts," Isobel went on, looking all manner of irritated. "Ross or not, this may well make you unmarriable. Purebloods seek wives who will provide them heirs. If you are unwilling to go to bed with their sons and provide them with heirs, then what would be the point of the unions? Our family wealth would be some draw, but any number of other families could provide wealth and heirs. I will keep looking, but I don't expect results."

She couldn't help but offer a jab. "Forgive me for not being disappointed by that."

"Forgive me for cutting you off the day after you graduate," Isobel snapped, "as I'll have no further obligation to support you after that time, and you have made it clear you have no intention of behaving as a member of this family."

Robert looked outraged. "Mother! You can't!"

Isobel looked sharply at her son. "You'll find that I can, Robert. Dead branches of a tree are pruned. That is how it is done. Good day, Minerva."

With that, Isobel stormed off, leaving brother and sister standing there in shock. Had she just been informed of a pending disownment? Minerva was barely cognizant of Robert pulling her into a hug, tears falling onto his strong shoulder as shock fell to grief. "I can't believe she…" Minerva muttered.

Robert pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see what I can do to talk her out of it," he promised. "I'll talk to Mal and get him to help. Worst case, it won't last forever. Mother will keel over eventually, then I'll be Head and I can lift it. You're my sister, Min, and nothing Mother says can change that."

Minerva just held her brother tighter.


"She did what?" Hermione seethed.

Elise Ollivander winced a little. "Merlin, don't take it out on me, and don't go after her. That won't help any. I just figured you ought to know, and Minerva is being a dunderhead right now and opting to mope by her lonesome. I only know because Wood told me, and Rob McGonagall let him know. You have to give Rob credit for knowing his sister. She does tend to retreat and isolate when she's feeling emotionally compromised."

"For Merlin's sake," the Defense Professor grumbled, thinking that she'd like nothing better than to give Isobel McGonagall a piece of her mind right now. "Any idea where Min is now?"

"Genia said she wasn't going to let a boy, even if it was Minerva's brother, in her room, so they're in the Room of Requirement. Rob won't leave her," Elise said, looking apologetic. "He is loyal to Minerva though, Hermione. I don't think he'd snitch about you two, so if you go to her, don't go as her Professor, alright?"

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Thank you Elise. You're a good friend. That said, it is nearly curfew, so you best get back to dorms. I'll be telling Genia the same."

"Sure thing," Elise said, surprising Hermione by pulling her into a warm hug. "Thanks for being there for her."

After Elise was gone, Hermione took a minute to gather her thoughts, and then pulled on a cloak and made her way up to the seventh floor, not surprised when the door to the Room appeared to her as soon as she approached. The Room of Requirement was sentient, in its own way, and knew full well that Hermione required access to Minerva, as much as it likely knew Minerva required Hermione's support right now. As such, she'd not even needed to make the request on a conscious level.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" a young man asked as she walked in. Hermione presumed this was Hermione's brother, Robert.

Minerva didn't get a chance to jump to her defense. Genia beat her to it. "Shove off, Robert. Min probably wants Hermione here more than she even wants you."

The Scottish Witch, who'd been curled up against her brother on one of the sofas, looked at her weakly. "Elise told you?" she asked.

Hermione nodded. "I was forbidden from giving your mother a piece of my mind, and then told where to find you. I'm so sorry, darling."

Robert raised an eyebrow as Hermione moved to sit on the other side of Minerva, and the younger woman leaned away from her brother and into Hermione's arms, clinging to her tightly. "Excuse me," he said. "But who are you? I thought I knew all my sister's friends."

Hermione sighed, and glanced over at Genia, who like her was unsure of how to go about explaining things. In any case, it was near curfew. "Genia, you need to get back to your dorm. It's almost curfew. I'll take care of Minerva."

The Head Girl nodded. "You going to be okay for your first class in the morning, or do you want me to post a sign to cancel until after lunch?"

She considered it. The idea absolutely had merit. She was likely to be up all night with Minerva, but she couldn't justify it to Armando why she had to be the one with the young Gryffindor, when she really should have handed her off to Albus. "As much as I'd love to take you up on that, I'll push through. I've got the seventh years first thing, though, and I may ask you and Elise to help lead some drills. Merlin knows I won't be overly alert."

"Are you a bloody Professor?" Robert exclaimed, beginning to put things together.

Genia hushed Robert, and pointed to Minerva. "She fell asleep. If you two are going to row, keep it down. Night."

With that, Genia made her exit, and once she was gone Hermione turned to Robert, and offered a curt nod of confirmation. "I'm Hermione Dagworth, and yes, I'm the Defense Professor."

"And apparently a close friend of my sister's, not to mention Flitwick and Ollivander," he said pointedly. "That's unusual."

"I'm only a few years their elder, Robert," she said pointedly. "I don't have a Mastery. I was on the front lines of the war for some time, and gained enough experience that the Headmaster determined I had what it took to teach at Hogwarts. I don't know if I'll continue beyond this year."

"Not enjoying it?" he asked with a frown.

"On the contrary," Hermione admitted. "I enjoy it a great deal, however there are other complications at stake and I have priorities which favor moving on to other endeavors."

Her gaze shifted to the sleeping form of her lover, her hand delicately brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes, lips curling into a soft smile as the touch caused Minerva to just tighten her hold on Hermione. She didn't often get the chance to watch the Scottish woman sleep, and while at present there was clear distress lingering in her features even as she rested, there was still an endearing serenity that Hermione found herself touched by.

"You're not just her friend, are you?" Robert whispered.

Hermione looked back up at him, not surprised to find a look of shock on his face. Recalling Elise's insistence that Robert was unlikely to tell on them, she opted against doing him the disservice of lying. "No," she admitted.

"You're the reason she won't marry someone else," he concluded.

She chuckled lightly. "I'm fairly certain that has more to do with her preference for the fairer sex in the general sense than it does me specifically. I was hardly her first lover."

"Do you suppose you'll be the last?" Robert asked boldly. "My sister may be all manner of Gryffindor, but all she's ever wanted was to be a teacher, and I just can't see her risking her future like this, to sleep with a Professor, unless she was well and truly in love. For us Highland folk…"

"Oh, I got that speech!" she snorted. "I tried pushing her away, to absolutely no avail. If Minerva has her way, yes, I'll be the last. At this point I can't say I object to that notion. I do love her. I'm uncertain how we'll get there, but I live in hope."

Minerva stirred. "Hermione?" she muttered.

"I'm here, love," she replied, shifting a bit. "Just chatting with your brother."

"He being a prat?" she asked, scooting up a bit, and pressing a soft kiss to Hermione's lips.

Then, Minerva froze, brain suddenly connecting the fact that she'd just kissed her lover in the presence of her brother, who last she knew had no idea she had any lover, much less one who was her bloody Professor. Her head whipped around, fear in her eyes, as if she expected Robert to be horrified and angry. He just looked amused. "Hey sleepy head. I hear you have a girlfriend. Your Professor though? Honestly Min, way to take teacher's pet to a whole new level."

Hermione snorted in amusement. "Yes, he's being a prat."

"Please don't don't tell Mother," Min requested softly.

Robert looked incredulous. "I'm not a Gryffindor, and even if I was, I'm not that bloody stupid! I like living, thanks!"

"A McGonagall not in Gryffindor?" Hermione asked, interested.

Minerva scoffed. "He was in your House."

The older of the McGonagalls looked gleeful. "You fell for a Slytherin? That's it. You officially have my blessing. Min. Marry her."

Minerva picked up a pillow and hit her brother with it. "I hate you."


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