Chapter Ten


"And I'm just supposed to be alright with this?"

Hermione pretended to not be listening as Minerva spoke to her mother on the other side of what was now officially their flat. She was listening, but that wasn't the point.

"Mother," Minerva said impatiently, "you disowned me. You being alright with it is entirely beside the point. As I told Rob, I refuse to be ashamed. I love Hermione. I'm with Hermione. She's going to be going abroad for work in just a few months so we're going to enjoy what little time we have together before she leaves, as I have to stay for my Mastery studies."

"So when she's gone," Isobel mused, "does that mean you'll be open to a betrothal at that point?"

Minerva's groan of frustration echoed through the still empty room. "No. It means it could be some time before I marry Hermione, but mark my words, I will marry her one day."

Hermione decided she'd given the pair enough space, and smoothly made her way over. "One day, yes," she agreed, meeting Isobel McGonagall's gaze. "Sorry to ruin any grand plans you had, Mrs. McGonagall."

"You were a Professor at Hogwarts," the older Witch said, shaking her head in clear disapproval, "regardless of your closeness in age, you abused your position in seducing my daughter. If not for the fact that it would ruin Minerva as much as it would ruin you, I'd make sure the Prophet got word of what happened between you."

The younger of the McGonagall women laughed. "Her? Seduce me? Mother give me some credit. I seduced her. She came willingly in the end, I suppose, but only after I'd come on to her."

"By what? A bit of flirting?" Isobel guessed.

Hermione scoffed. "I was holding her off just fine when she was merely flirting. It was the snogging me bit that pushed me over the edge. Your daughter is something of a force of nature. Not to mention she's a Gryffindor, and they are rarely deterred when they set their minds to something."

Isobel laughed a bit at that, and eyed her curiously. "What House were you, Professor Dagworth?"

"I didn't go to Hogwarts, although my mother and sister insist I'd have gone to Slytherin," she replied, offering the well practiced lie.

The older woman offered her daughter a pointed look, and Minerva just rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. Rob absolutely gave his blessing. Mal laughed at me."

Isobel sighed. "I cannot give my blessing for this… relationship. I strongly advise against you allowing your father to hear about this, Minerva. For the Rosses to have any standing in polite society, I cannot rescind the disownment, however your brother and I discussed it and agree that by my death, the world will likely have changed enough that your sort will be more accepted, and he'll be in a better position politically speaking to do what I cannot."

"That's what Rob told me in his last letter," Minerva said, nodding. "I can accept that."

The older McGonagall woman turned back to Hermione. "Should I expect to see you again?"

Hermione huffed. "I dearly hope not. My self control only extends so far. I'm a Dagworth."

Isobel shook her head ruefully. "You are your mother's daughter. Take care of her, will you?"

"I will," she promised.

"Tapadh leit," Isobel said softly, and then she was out the door.

"Tapadh leit?" Hermione inquired after a pause, looking at her lover.

"Thank you," Minerva translated, looking surprised at her mother's parting salutation.

Hermione paused, remembering something that Minerva's older self had said, some years ago, when she'd been recovering from the events of the Department of Mysteries. Minerva must have thought her asleep, and Hermione, at the time, had been too afraid to ask such a personal question of her Professor to inquire about it later, even if the Gaelic had seemed to be directed her way. "Thar gach ni eile cuimhnigh i gconai mo gra. What's that mean?"

Her lover smiled a little. "Your butchery of the pronunciation aside, it means 'Above all else, always remember my love.' Where did you hear that?"

"You said it to me after I was injured, end of my fifth year," she shrugged. "This was years before you were anything more than my professor, but I suppose you'd have known who I'd grow up to be."

"And likely been worried sick over the fact that you'd been injured," Minerva mused.

"I was fine," Hermione insisted. "I mean, I have scars from it, but I was more or less fine."

"The ones on your stomach?" the Scottish woman asked, coming toward her and beginning to unbutton her blouse.

"Yeah," came a breathless reply.

Minerva's lips dragged down her neck, between her breasts, and began tracing the lines of the scars on her stomach. "You are so full of shite, Hermione," she muttered. "You were anything but fine."

At that, she dragged her lover to the ground. They'd likely have rug burn in the aftermath of this, but neither cared. They'd unpack later. Right now, they just wanted to make love in their empty flat, knowing full well that there was nothing to stop them from taking hours to do it for the first time since the beginning of their relationship. Everything else could wait.


It was well into July now, and Minerva knew that she was sulking. She and Hermione's flat was unpacked and they were settled into it, and at the older woman's insistence, it was set up more to her own preferences than to Hermione's, as it would be her residence for Merlin knew how long, whereas Hermione would only be here for a matter of weeks.

Weeks. That was why she was sulking. At this point it wasn't even as though Minerva could say that it was more than a month that she had left with Hermione. It was less than a month. Last night, just before supper, Hermione had been brought to her knees with what she described as an adrenaline rush, as for a moment she'd believed herself to be in two places at once; here, and in that corridor where she was destined to be pulled back to. At least now they had something resembling confirmation. At least now they knew, with some certainty, that she would be pulled back to the moment she'd left.

The following morning Hermione had left their flat and gone to say her goodbyes to Olivia and Constance, insisting that while she thought she wouldn't be pulled back until the seventh of August, she didn't want to miss the chance to say goodbye to her mother and sister if she was wrong. She'd come home in tears, Minerva remembering that Olivia Dagworth would be dead by ninety eight, and with a lurch understanding why that goodbye hurt so badly. Hermione had been saying goodbye - the last goodbye - to her mother. She couldn't imagine. Even as she sulked now, self pity coiling in her gut at the loss to come for herself, she tried to remind herself that she would see her lover again, in time, just as Hermione would see her. It wasn't a final goodbye, as it was for Hermione and Olivia.

"Min?" Hermione called, coming out to the balcony of the master suite, overlooking the back garden. "Darling, what can I do to make this easier on you?"

She snorted. "Not leave?"

Her lover rolled her eyes. "Something I have control over, perhaps? Min, you must know if I could I would stay."

The Scottish woman sighed. "Even if you could find a way to stay, it wouldn't matter. I'd still lose you. In time you'd be born, and the cascade failure would kill you, or your younger counterpart, if not both of you. Then I wouldn't have you at all. At least this way, I do get you someday. It just seems so far off."

"It does," Hermione agreed, taking her hand. "I'm sorry."

The pair stood quietly for a time, the silence interrupted by the arrival of an Owl, which Hermione took without comment, offering the creature a treat from her pocket, and then opening the letter. "It's from the girls," she commented, scanning the contents. "They want to get together this weekend."

Elise and Genia had opted to get a flat together after graduation, Elise going ahead with Healer training at St. Mungo's and Genia moving forward with a Transfiguration Mastery with Edward Browning. They'd both been busy, their studies starting as soon as they'd graduated, although Minerva's wouldn't begin until September first when school started back up at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore having other commitments during the summer. Honestly, Minerva was glad her studies were delayed. She didn't want anything distracting her from this time with Hermione.

"I see no issue with that," Minerva commented. "Do they want to meet here, their place, or elsewhere?"

Hermione let out an amused snort. "According to Genia, Elise fancied the idea of going clubbing, but she thought it best to enjoy the quality time while we could, and convinced Elise to meet at one of our flats. She says ours is bigger, but if we'd rather not, they don't mind hosting."

"I think we can manage having the girls here," the Scottish woman mused. "Genia is right about quality time. They deserve the chance to spend some time with you before…"

"I'm not dying, Minerva," Hermione said pointedly.

"Well it almost feels like you are!" she snapped, turning around and storming back into their bedroom.

The next she knew, her back had slammed against a wall, and her lover's lips had pressed against hers in a passionate kiss, fingers weaving through her hair. On instinct she responded, her own hands pulling Hermione closer, moaning as the older Witch's knee rose and put pressure between her legs, both of them favoring Muggle slacks now that they weren't at Hogwarts and having a dress code to contend with. The freedom of movement was glorious. "Shite," she breathed.

"I'm alive," Hermione hissed as she shoved Minerva toward the bed. "I'm not dying, I'm moving through time."

The curly haired woman flicked her wand and vanished both of their respective clothing with a word, before knocking Minerva on her back and diving face first between the Scottish Witch's legs. She groaned in pleasure. "Gods, 'Mione," she let out.

Hermione drove her to the edge a few times, and then Minerva took control and drove Hermione wild for a bit, wanting to prove to herself that the woman in her bed was still living and breathing, and right there with her. As Hermione was coming down, she kissed her way up her lover's body, inventorying her lover's scars as she did. She did this often, wanting to remember what this woman had been through to get here, and what her younger counterpart would go through before being shunted into the past to meet her. Minerva knew that there was little she could do to interfere with the timeline, but she wanted to be able to comfort where she could, and it would be a simpler thing to do if she knew what had caused some of these scars.

Her eyes fell on two scars she'd not noticed before, one on either arm. She was certain she'd not have missed them, so Hermione must have been employing Glamours before. Rather than seeth at the word Mudblood on one arm and the etched I must not tell lies on the other that Minerva knew was Hermione's own handwriting, she simply asked the question, trying not to sound judgmental. "Where'd these come from?"

Hermione looked down, still breathing heavily. "Oh, bother. I hadn't meant for you to see those."

"Clearly," Minerva quipped. "So?"

After sighing heavily, Hermione pointed to the one on the back of her left hand first. "That's from a Blood Quill. I had something of a disagreement with one of my Professors and that was my detention. Writing lines with a Blood Quill."

"But those are illegal!" the Scottish woman screeched.

"I'm aware," she mused. "I wasn't at the time, however, and the Headmaster was in a delicate position at that point so those of us who had detention with that particular Professor hesitated to report her in fear we'd put him in an impossible position. I was hardly the only one. Don't worry, I got her back in the end."

Minerva shook her head, knowing full well Hermione wouldn't give her much more information, even if she pressed. "What about the other one?"

Hermione winced a bit. "I got that one at the tail end of the war. I'd been captured and taken to one of the enemy strongholds, and subjected to torture. Honestly, that scar is the least of my proverbial scars from that night. You know that potion I take before bed every night?"

She nodded, recalling the fact that Hermione did take a nightly potion but never having considered asking what it was for. "Yes?"

"That potion will be developed some years from now as a treatment for the long term after-effects of nerve damage from the Cruciatus Curse," Hermione explained calmly.

Minerva paled. "You survived long term exposure to the Cruciatus Curse?"

"Likely only because I was an Occlumens," her lover confided.

Minerva didn't quite know what to say to that. What was there to say?


It was August the seventh. While one part of Minerva, Hermione knew, may have wanted to spend today just the two of them, Genia, Elise, and Hermione had all agreed that once Hermione was ripped forward in time, Minerva would need her friends. So, today the four of them were spending time together, one last afternoon for the unlikely friends. At the moment, they were making fun of Genia, who despite still being unmarried, had finally given in and shagged Melok.

"So, how was it?" Elise asked, as usual completely uncouth.

Genia blushed. "Incredible. The things he can do with his tongue…"

Minerva snorted in amusement. "Well, rumor has it that some of the Goblin spells are nearly unpronounceable to humans, so one would imagine that he'd have a talented tongue. Glad to hear he's making good use of it."

Hermione, being the responsible one of the group, posed the practical question. "I assume you're being safe, Genia?"

"I'm not a complete dolt, Hermione," the Ravenclaw said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, Melok is paranoid. He'll not get me with child until we're ready for it. Filius will be born on schedule."

"I still can't believe Filius is only a few years older than the Marauders," their former Professor said, shaking her head ruefully. "I'd always thought he was long graduated by the time they came along."

"Who were the Marauders?" Elise asked.

"Oh," Hermione said, snorting. "Four Gryffindor boys who started at Hogwarts in the early seventies. I won't tell you who they all were, but one of them will be Harry's father, James Potter. One of the Marauders will later teach at Hogwarts, just for a year, much as I did."

"Defense, like you?" Genia inquired.

She nodded. "Yes, in fact. He was a great teacher."

"Why didn't he stay on, then?" Elise wanted to know.

Hermione frowned. "Conflict of interest I suppose would be the simplest way to put it. He and the Potions Professor didn't get on at all, and that aside Remus had other priorities which he felt needed his undivided attention in the end."

"Remus?" Minerva asked, laughing a little. "His name was Remus? Any chance he was a wolf Animagus? That would be terribly appropriate, given the mythology."

Elise and Genia both burst out laughing, seeming to agree with their friend.

Hermione's eyes sparkled. "He was not an Animagus, no. I do believe his Patronus was a wolf, however. You're right, it is appropriate. Not sure why I didn't consider that before."

"Well I guess you're not a total know-it-all then," Elise ribbed.

Just then, there was a flash in her mind, and she could hear the echo of her own footfalls walking down the stone corridors of Hogwarts after leaving Minerva's quarters. She winced at a sensation of pulling in her gut, every fiber of her being telling her that it was nearly time. "Ladies," she whispered. "I'm running out of time."

Hermione glanced at Minerva, unsurprised to see tears already falling down her face. Knowing she'd need to be fully in possession of her faculties upon arriving back in her own time if she had any hope of surviving, she slammed up her Occlumency barriers to keep her own emotions in check. "Min," she said softly, standing up and pulling her lover close. "I know you're hurting. I know this is going to be hard for you. Just remember the good times we've had. Remember Genia and Elise will be here for you, as will Roland and Ignatius. Remember what I've taught you and for Merlin's sake stay safe. Remember to keep your heart open and let people in. Don't become bitter because of what you've lost, and above all else, always remember my love."

Minerva nodded, and kissed her softly, seeming to be unable to form words just now. Hermione turned to Genia and Elise, but before she could say a thing, Genia spoke. "Hermione, I have been lucky to know you, lucky to have you come into my life when you did. I can't thank you enough for how you've given me the courage to do the things I'm not certain I'd have been able to otherwise do. I don't care if you're going to be gone for more than fifty years - you're still going to be one of my best friends when you find your way back to us. Understand?"

Hermione was touched, and nodded. "Got it," she replied, pulling Filius' future mother into a warm hug.

Elise had a similar speech. "Ravenclaws remember, Professor Dagworth. Everyone else might forget about that young professor who only taught at Hogwarts for one year, but me and Genia are going to remember who taught us what we needed to stay alive in the war to come. We're going to remember who helped us realize what the important things in life are. We're going to remember our friend, Hermione. We'll be older, when you see us again, but don't for a second think we'll have forgotten you, okay?"

Again, she nodded, pulling Elise into a hug and feeling a few tears falling down her cheeks, Occlumency barriers faltering in the wake of such emotional farewells. The footsteps in her mind began to get louder, and she turned back to Minerva.

"Tá grá agam duit," the Scottish woman whispered.

Since Isobel's visit, Hermione had been attempting to learn some Gaelic. "I love you too," she replied.

Then, with a sharp tug in her gut, Hermione lost sight of her lover and their flat, pulled forward in time. She cast a powerful shield and downed a pepper-up potion she'd been carrying in her pocket in anticipation of this moment, in hopes she could stay awake upon landing in nineteen ninety eight. If she couldn't, it would be up to Minerva, Elise, and Genia to save her life.


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