Isle of Discussion

by teenybirdy

The Isle of Discussion in Scotland, where historically those who had arguments were put on the island with cheese and whiskey to sort out their problems and couldn't leave until they came to a mutual agreement. What happens when two formidable witches find themselves on this small island and how will their discussion change their relationship?

Note: This came from a prompt on the MM/HG Group on Facebook a couple of months back. I finished it off last night instead of sleeping (which, as you can imagine, has made for an interesting day at work).

Summary: The Isle of Discussion in Scotland, where historically those who had arguments were put on the island with cheese and whiskey to sort out their problems and couldn't leave until they came to a mutual agreement. What happens when two formidable witches find themselves on this small island and how will their discussion change their relationship?

~()~

"Miss Granger, stop right this instant," the clear, clipped tones of the Headmistress of Hogwarts called out loudly, causing every student in the vicinity to stop and stare as she moved quickly down the wide marble staircase towards the entrance hall, following after one-third of the Golden Trio.

Despite her order to stop, Hermione Granger continued to walk. Launching herself from the last three steps, she transformed into her Animagus form and landed on all fours, dashing between students' legs until she was ahead of the witch.

Returning to her natural form easily, Professor Minerva McGonagall kept her back to the wide oak door, blocking her students' path to the grounds.

"Move," Hermione hissed, drawing her wand free.

"No," Minerva said, gazing at the younger witch. The dark circles around Hermione's dull eyes and the tautness of her jaw told a story of exhaustion and stress. Minerva could feel the palpable anger radiating from her. "I cannot allow you to leave, Miss Granger. It's not safe."

"Like you care," Hermione ground out, her wand arm outstretched but shaking as the tip pointed towards her opponent's chest. "Not one of you truly gives a damn."

Shaking her head sadly, Minerva wouldn't back down. She had a duty of care for all her students but could admit that she held a soft spot for the witch in front of her. "You cannot leave, Miss Granger. Although the war is over, there are still Death Eaters out there."

"Piss off," Hermione growled. "Just try and stop me." With a slight flick of her wrist, a stinging hex shot towards the older witch.

With her enhanced reflexes, which came from years spent as a cat in her Animagus form, Minerva dodged the hex and it hit the door, leaving a large crack in its wake. Drawing her wand from her robes, she didn't retaliate but prepared to defend herself.

With another flick of her wrist, Hermione silently cast another hex, a purple beam erupting from the tip of her wand.

Minerva deflected the Dislocation Hex easily, causing it to careen into the stone wall, just a few short millimetres from one of the portraits, and causing the Dumfriesshire Black and Tan Foxhounds captured in its depths to bark loudly.

"Miss Granger—" Minerva sighed. "I am not going to fight you."

A burst of blue light flew towards her from a well-timed Reducto, and she cast a Protego. Their spells clashed in bursts of colourful light breaking her shield and causing her to stumble backwards slightly.

Her heart ached as she blocked and protected herself from each spell, the younger witch cast, but she wouldn't back down. Another flare, orange this time, flew towards her and she growled before launching herself to the side and landing awkwardly before the Jelly-Legs Jinx could hit her. It was clear that this was a battle of wills and emotions, with Hermione's anger at front and centre.

"Expelliarmus," a voice squeaked from the top of the marble stairs.

With their wands flying from their hands, Hermione and Minerva looked up to see who had disarmed them, only to find the Deputy Head and Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick, trotting down the stairs as fast as his short legs would allow. Their wands landed in his outstretched hand, and he curled his long, gnarled fingers tightly around them.

"Everyone to your common rooms," Professor Flickwick commanded. "Now."

Minerva took the chance to ease herself back to her feet and brushed down her robes, wincing slightly at the pain in her shoulder from the impact of her fall.

Once the student body had disappeared, leaving the two witches behind, Professor Flitwick glowered up at them. "Merlin's pants, what did you think you were doing, Miss Granger?" He squeaked. "Not only did you attack your Headmistress, but a stray hex could have harmed one of the other students." He shook his head, his disappointment clear in his eyes. "Hasn't this castle and its occupants seen enough fighting?"

Hermione's shoulders slumped and she bowed her head, her wild curly hair covering her face.

"Filius," Minerva began.

"And you, Minerva," said Professor Flitwick. "You should know better than to draw your wand on a student."

Minerva scowled. "I was merely attempting to defend myself and the rest of the student body," she insisted.

"What on Earth was this about?" Filius asked.

Minerva shrugged and looked away before sighing and glancing back at the brunette. "I told Miss Granger that I did not believe she was ready for the Animagus transformation." She gestured towards the younger woman. "Look at her, Filius. She isn't up to it. To complete such strenuous magic could be harmful."

Professor Flitwick used his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. They were so similar at times, like two Bowtruckles on a branch and he could only imagine how the two stubborn witches had butted heads, but for either of them to draw their wand on the other, indicated there could be more to the matter than either was willing to admit right now.

Pocketing the wands, he decided on a course of action that would potentially infuriate the witches, but which he knew was something that would make the two sit and air their grievances, hopefully without them ending up in a Muggle duel.

Grabbing both witches by the arm, he spun in a small circle and with a small pop they disappeared.

~()~

Minerva was the first to shake off the disorientation from the unexpected Apparition. She'd caught the sound of the second pop indicating that her Deputy had left them before either she or the young witch kneeling beside her, could berate the half-Goblin.

"Where the fuck are we?" Hermione gasped.

"Language." Minerva chided. She glanced around warily. There were a few trees, a lot of rocks and brush, and at first glance, it was an unremarkable place.

The deepening dusk cast long shadows across the terrain, and she could hear the hum of magic in the air. She quickly realised where her colleague had brought them and smirked. "We are on Eilean a' Chombraidh."

"You know I don't speak Gaelic," Hermione said, pushing herself off her knees and standing up, her legs still wobbly from the apparition. Her eyes closed tight.

Turning her head, she gazed at the other witch. "The English know this place as the Isle of Discussion," she continued to explain. "Local folklore states that arguing members of local clans were brought here and had to remain until their disputes were resolved." Her lips twitched. "With cheese, oatcakes, and whiskey to ease them into a swift and peaceful agreement."

"You've got to be joking," Hermione said incredulously.

"No," Minerva said. "There's certainly some truth in that tale, and I suspect we will find somewhere warm to settle in and discuss what happened this afternoon."

"And once that's done?" Hermione asked.

"Once the dispute between us is settled, I'm certain we'll find a boat moored and be able to row up to Eilean na Bainne—the Isle of Ratification—to seal any agreement we may come to," Minerva advised.

"Well, that sounds ominous," Hermione muttered.

"It's not at all what it sounds like. Come with me, lass. Together we can work this out." Minerva held her hand out and was surprised that the offer wasn't ignored and a warm hand slipped into hers. Sliding her fingers between Hermione's, she realized their hands fit together quite well. Leading Hermione towards a thicket of tall silver birch trees, Minerva paused when she felt a pulse of magic and closing her eyes, used her free hand to press against an invisible barrier.

Hermione was stunned when a small stone bothy suddenly appeared. "Wha-what? How?"

"Magic, lass," Minerva said, turning her head. "Don't you feel it?"

She found herself frowning when Hermione shook her head vigorously. She was shocked the younger witch couldn't hear or feel the palpable magic contained on the small island. She'd been certain that, like herself, Hermione could sense when she'd entered a magically charged area.

"Close your eyes for me," Minerva requested softly. Hermione complied, squeezing her eyes shut. "Now, take a deep breath in and then exhale slowly," Minerva urged. Hermione was still tense, and she could feel it in the hand clasped in hers. Letting go of the hand, she stepped behind the younger witch and placed her hands on her shoulders. "You need to relax, lass," she murmured into her ear while massaging the shoulders beneath her palms. "Just keep taking slow, deep breaths." After a few moments, Hermione began to relax and she squeezed her shoulders lightly. "Listen carefully. Can you hear the slight hum?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed. "I'd forgotten what it was like." She admitted.

"Oh, lass," Minerva exhaled sadly. "Some say this island's magic is healing because it hasn't been tainted by darkness. I say it's pure."

Hermione's eyes opened and she turned in the circle of her arms. For the first time in months, Minerva saw that certain spark that had, before the war, often lit up her expressive hazel orbs. "Thank you, Minerva," she said softly.

"For what?" Minerva was confused.

Hermione shrugged and looked away from her. "I don't know. It just seems like an appropriate response."

Deciding not to push Hermione any further, just yet, Minerva let go and taking her hand again, squeezed it before leading her forward. "Come on. I'll light a fire while you pour us a drink."

~()~

They sat in tense silence, slowly allowing their anger and frustration to ebb. The silence had thickened while Minerva concentrated her efforts on starting a fire in the hearth and Hermione poured drinks, each hoping the other would be the first to break the silence.

Minutes passed as they sat, each holding a glass of whiskey and staring into the roaring flames.

A note lay between them, holding Professor Flitwick's familiar chicken scratch.

Welcome to the Isle of Discussion.

While you have not chosen to be here, I felt you both needed time to openly discuss whatever it is that has come between you.

The isle is one of a kind. It should help you find a resolution to your quarrels. You must follow the rules established over the centuries; this includes but is not limited to, not duelling or killing one another. That's no way to solve your problems, and it is why I took the liberty of securing your wands. There has only been one murder in over a thousand years and the Wizarding World would be grateful if you did not increase this number.

Our world needs you both to be the best version of yourselves and while you remain at loggerheads, you are far from that.

To assist, I have taken the liberty of enacting the old traditions and provided local cheese, oatcakes, and whisky from the Clan Ross distillery. I hope you find these offerings suitable.

Once you realise the only way out of this is open discourse, please keep an open mind, be rational in your arguments, be considerate and listen to one another.

I hope to see you tomorrow.

Prof. F. Flitwick.

Knowing they weren't going to get anywhere fast unless she took the graphorn by the horns, Minerva braced herself and started to speak. "Miss Granger—Hermione, I meant no disrespect when I said you weren't ready to complete your Animagi training. I would never have suggested you study for your Transfiguration Mastery alongside your NEWTs if I did not believe you were competent enough to do so. But I have noticed a few things over the last six months that have left me concerned about your well-being."

Hermione huffed and sipped her whiskey with a wince, but didn't respond.

"Won't you talk to me?" Minerva questioned softly. "You have never shied away from seeking comfort or advice from me." She sighed. "Things have changed since you returned for your final year. For those few months, while we worked together to rebuild Hogwarts after the battle, I thought we were well on our way to becoming friends. My friendship is not offered lightly, as you know."

She heard Hermione's deep, shuddering breaths and turning her face to gaze at her, saw her head bowed once more, her curls hiding her face from view and she knew the younger witch was fighting back tears.

"You barely eat during mealtimes; you've lost weight, and there are dark circles around your eyes like you don't sleep," Minerva continued. "Yet your schoolwork is, as always, faultless." She threw back the rest of her drink and leaned forward to pour another. "Has something happened?"

Hermione glanced up, her eyes red-tinged and glassy with unshed tears. "More than fighting a war, losing friends, and sending my parents away?"

Minerva sighed and removed her black witch's hat, settling it on the arm of her chair beside her elbow, and started to unpin her hair and then braid it. She needed time to formulate a response to the other witch's words.

They had discussed the effects of the war in its aftermath; they'd grieved together for those lost, and when she felt the time was right, once repairs were complete and before the new school year started, she'd urged Hermione to seek the assistance of the Ministry to find her parents.

"I thought you'd found your parents and returned their memories?" Minerva queried. "I assumed—"

"There's an old Muggle adage," Hermione responded dryly. "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me."

Minerva frowned. "While I am an ass on occasion, I did not mean to make such an assumption." She took a deep breath. "Am I—well, are you—" She shrugged helplessly. "Will you tell me what happened when you went to Australia?"

Hermione closed her eyes and began speaking dispassionately. "I found my parents in a small country town, about 40 miles southwest of Perth. They've bought a large single-storey house, with some land and opened a small dental practice." She furrowed her brow. "When I arrived in Perth, I made an appointment with my mum just before they closed for the day, but before I could see her, my dad walked into the clinic with a baby in his arms." She licked her lips. "Her hair's a touch lighter, but her dark eyes were just like mine."

"They've had another little girl?" Minerva questioned.

"Yeah. Anyway, rather than casting a Dornröschen and returning their memories there and then, I let my mum fix a couple of cracked teeth. Afterwards, I waited around and then followed them home. After an hour or so, I knocked on their door. My mum answered and looked confused when she realised it was a patient and when I asked if I could speak to her, she frowned but invited me in." Hermione swallowed hard. "Dad wasn't in the living room, but I could hear him putting the baby to bed and knew I had to act quickly, so I cast the Dornröschen and within a few moments, had returned her memories. Once I was done, I headed further into the house and did the same to my dad, while the baby gazed up at me."

"Oh, lass." Minerva sighed, sensing what was to come was not good.

"Anyway, when they both finally came around from the bewitched sleep, they were furious to realise where they were and what I'd done." She sipped her drink with a grimace. "My dad was the worst. He said he didn't believe, as non-magical folk, there could be any danger to him or my mum and refused to accept my reasons for altering their memories. After going around in circles for hours, he told me to leave. Mum simply sat there, nodding along in agreement." A tear slipped from beneath her closed eyelid, trailing slowly down her cheek. "She said—" she hiccupped. "—she won't ever forgive me. She doesn't want anything to do with me or this world, and doesn't want me involved in their lives or the life of my little sister."

Minerva stood and placed her glass down before taking the few small steps needed to reach the younger witch. She pulled Hermione up and into her arms, ignoring the sensation it caused to have full body contact with the smaller witch. "Oh, lass," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. You did the right thing. The one thing that kept them alive and safe from harm."

Hermione let out a small hiccupping sob and held on to her more tightly. "I want to believe that," she started to cry harder. "But Dad said he doesn't even know me and honestly dislikes who I've become. He said the daughter he once knew would never have done something so despicable to the parents she claimed to love. He admitted he hoped Harper was never influenced by my abnormality. Just before I left, my mum said the worst thing they ever did, was to let me attend Hogwarts."

Minerva could barely make out the words falling from Hermione's lips as she rocked her gently back and forth within the circle of her arms, one hand tangled in the mass of bushy curls at the back of her head, while the other ran soothing circles on her back.

She understood that the Order of Phoenix had let Hermione down in the most profound way. Potter had always been the main focus, as the chosen one, and they'd banded together to support the Weasleys when the Burrow was destroyed. Yet, not a single member had considered what effect the war would have on Hermione, the Muggleborn best friend of the so-called saviour of the Wizarding World.

She'd not been part of the Order during the last war, her focus, at Dumbledore's insistence, was keeping the students at Hogwarts safe, but she'd asked him what plans he had for Hermione and her family and he'd brushed her query away, insisting things would be handled. She hadn't anticipated that Hermione would feel the need to take matters into her own hands, trusting the Order to take care of things. When she'd found out otherwise, she'd been furious, but it had been too late, her cubs were already on the run, sent on a wild goose chase, in search of a way to destroy Voldemort with no real knowledge of how to do so.

When Hermione started to calm down, Minerva stepped back, keeping her in her arms, until she reached the armchair she'd abandoned to comfort the brunette. Easing herself down, she pulled Hermione with her, settling her across her lap.

Feeling Hermione tense slightly, she spoke softly. "Ssh, it's okay, ghràidh. I'm here. I'll always be here for you. You can tell me anything."

Hermione shifted and then laid her head against Minerva's breast, taking deep, calming breaths. "I spent the majority of last year in that bloody tent with the boys, determined to come out of the war unscathed, just waiting for the chance to return to my parents and bask in their presence," she said softly. "I wanted to look them in the eyes and for them to recognise me, despite the fact I'm not the same little girl that left them behind to attend Hogwarts." She let out a hiccuping sob. "I know they discussed ignoring the Hogwarts letter, before letting me make the final decision." Hermione sobbed. "And I now find myself wondering if they ever truly loved and accepted me, or if they always saw me as some freak of nature because of my magic."

Minerva frowned. She remembered the first time she had met the Grangers. They hadn't seemed particularly demonstrative on that long-ago early summer evening, and they were stoic in the face of her declaration that their daughter was a witch. Not that it meant anything at all; some people were simply like that around strangers. As far as Minerva could tell, they were accepting, they asked all the usual questions and showed an interest in learning more about the Wizarding World.

Looking down at Hermione, she let her usually stern countenance soften further. "You were a child, pushed into making some difficult decisions about attending Hogwarts and also leaving everything you knew. At that time, no one could have foreseen yet another war breaking out or that you would have to fight."

"Dumbledore," Hermione whispered.

"Yes, well. Even with his advanced age, he made mistakes." Minerva's lips thinned. "To let children lead the fight against the darkness was ludicrous, even for him. The blithering dunderhead."

Hermione's eyes welled with tears, and she lowered her head. "So many people died. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, just to name a few and no matter what, I can't help but feel responsible."

Minerva shifted, pulling Hermione closer. "We all feel the weight of those losses, lass, but it wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do to protect the ones you loved, and to help safeguard the future of the Wizarding World."

Hermione gazed up at her, her eyes begging for understanding. "But I killed Bellatrix Lestrange. I watched her die and felt vindicated because of everything she put me through at Malfoy Manor, and yet it's haunted me ever since."

Minerva's voice was gentle as she formulated a reply, "At the end of the day, Bellatrix was an evil witch, Hermione. She was extremely dangerous. And frankly, despite being ridiculously foolhardy in stepping into the fray while she and Molly duelled, I know you were defending yourself and others. Yes, it was your spell that finished her, but I know it was not an act of viciousness. You simply put an end to her reign of terror against our world. You mustn't blame yourself for that."

Tears streamed down Hermione's cheeks, and onto her robes when she buried her face into her chest again and Minerva held her tightly, offering comfort and support.

"I've always been so proud of you, ghràidh, and I still am. That will never change. You've shown incredible bravery during these dark times. You did what had to be done, and you did it for the right reasons." Minerva insisted. "You are right when you say you aren't the same little girl that first came to Hogwarts. You are so much more than I, who first introduced you to this world, could contemplate you becoming. You are such a strong and intelligent woman. Your parents, though they may not see it, have so much to be proud of. You should be proud."

Hermione sniffed back her tears and looked up at her through her eyelashes. "I feel far from strong. I feel like I'm floundering."

"Tell me about these feelings." Minerva urged gently.

"Before I left Australia, my parents gave me enough money to get home. Since I had a Portkey organised, I used it to pay for my school robes and books. I've been helping Rosmerta with her accounts since, to keep me in school supplies, but I don't know what to do. In a few months, I'll need clothes and somewhere to live and I—I just don't know what to do. I've nowhere to go and I don't know how I'll manage. I have no one," Hermione whispered hoarsely. "Harry and Ginny sided with Ronald when I informed him I didn't want a relationship with him, and the rest of the Weasleys have kept their distance. Molly is furious with me, she claimed I've been stringing Ronald along for years when we only shared one kiss, a moment of insanity during the final battle."

"You have me," Minerva replied. Using her thumbs, she brushed away the lingering tears from Hermione's cheeks.

Hermione pulled back and caught her eye. "You'll leave me too, one day."

Minerva shook her head sadly. "I can't see that ever happening while there's still breath in my body, ghràidh," she declared, glancing down at the witch in her lap. "No matter what, I'm not going anywhere, and I'll help any way you allow."

~()~

Hermione hadn't moved from her perch on Minerva's lap since she'd pulled the brunette down onto it. Not that she minded at all. The warm, regular puffs of air against the skin of her neck, just above the high collar of her robes, allowed Minerva to consider just how natural it felt to hold the younger witch in her arms.

She had always felt there was something special about the clever little witch she'd first met, and over the past two years, that feeling had grown into something more. Being the witch she was, she'd told herself it was purely maternal, and when that no longer soothed her, that any feelings that crossed the usual teacher-pupil boundaries were highly inappropriate and could never be acted upon; however, the past year had happened, and she wasn't sure if she would ever see Hermione again. The thought of the little witch not surviving the war hurt more than she could have ever expected.

But Hermione had survived, returning with Potter and Weasley, to fight alongside her and the others in the castle, and she'd stayed behind when others had left, to help with the repairs. They'd connected during that time and had talked, laughed, and cried together.

Finding an unexpected connection with Hermione Granger was not something she'd ever anticipated, and during that time, while they took the opportunity to recover from the previous year, she knew she was falling irrevocably in love with the younger witch. Her feelings scared her, and yet, at the same time, they felt right.

While she'd often been amazed at Hermione's natural aptitude for magic over the years, especially given her muggle-born status, she noticed the woman Hermione had become over the years and was captivated by her resilience. She relished the challenges she faced during their various debates. Hermione had proven herself to be her equal in every possible way.

The past seven months had seen her fighting with herself almost daily over telling Hermione of her feelings, trying to keep their relationship professional and the younger witch at arm's length, unwilling to spill her secrets and potentially face her rejection.

When Hermione began to stir and mumble incoherently, Minerva shifted and held her more securely against her until she settled. She had hoped that her little witch would have a peaceful sleep for a change after she'd once admitted to having nightmares from her time at Malfoy Manor.

Minerva closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to drift to her relationship with the witch in her arms.

They'd argued that afternoon, their voices rising in anger and frustration.

She believed she understood why Hermione had grown upset. Knowing the younger witch better than most, she no doubt felt like she was being dismissed, not out of the concern that came from hard-earned experience, but because she thought Minerva didn't see her as an adult and able to make her own decisions. And, frustrated by the limits being placed on her, she'd exploded, berating her for simply seeing her as someone to mould, and accusing her of being patronising before eventually storming off, slamming her way from her office.

Minerva, needing to clear up any misunderstanding, and concerned about the unusually erratic behaviour, had followed blindly, only for things to escalate even further, with them drawing their wands against one another.

Upon reflection, now the heat of their argument was over, and with the little witch in her arms, she recognised there had been times in the months prior when, in their various conversations, Hermione gazed at her as if she hung the moon and the stars in the sky, and she'd put it down to simple admiration, but what if it was more?

The way Hermione behaved and her non-verbal body language sometimes suggested that she was experiencing some kind of attraction towards her. She sat facing her, with her entire body angled toward her with her head tilted to the side when she spoke, yet always fully engaged in their conversation. There were times she unconsciously mimicked her, leaning towards her and finding ways to touch her arm or hand. Hermione was rather tactile in general, so she'd dismissed it entirely as the foolish hopes of an old woman.

She knew, that if she gathered her Gryffindor courage, laid her heart bare, and as impossible as it seemed, Hermione accepted her and returned her feelings, the differences between them would potentially matter more to others than they did to them. The Wizarding World would struggle to accept them, the age gap alone would be enough for them to face judgment, criticism, and knowing the Weasleys, snide remarks and stupid hurtful jokes. They would need to confront the disapproval of their peers together.

In all honesty, she didn't give a flying flobberworm what anyone thought if there was the slightest chance of achieving what her heart and soul desired the most—the opportunity to be with Hermione and to call the beautiful witch her own.

Minerva ultimately made the choice she'd been resisting for the last few months. Once Hermione woke up, she would use the uninterrupted time on the Isle to attempt to tell Hermione her greatest secret and if not met with ridicule, lay her heart bare.

~()~

Minerva stirred and opening her eyes, saw that Hermione was gazing up at her, a frown marring her forehead.

"Hi," Hermione croaked, her voice rough.

"Hello, lass," Minerva replied, returning the greeting, but internally cursing that she had fallen asleep and hoping, beyond anything, that Hermione wouldn't move any closer.

"Mmh," Hermione hummed. "What on Earth is poking me in my thigh?" She asked.

Minerva stood quickly, lifting Hermione onto her feet before letting go and placing her hands over her lap to cover it. "No—nothing." She stuttered.

"Minerva," Hermione sighed tiredly and scrubbed her face with the palms of her hands. Dropping her hands and gazing up at her, she waited, an eyebrow arched in silent query.

"It's nothing, lass." Minerva insisted, feeling the heat of her blush rising from under her robes to her neck. "Probably just my wa—"

"Don't even contemplate finishing that lie, Minerva McGonagall." Hermione interrupted. "Professor Flitwick took our wands." Her hands moved to her hips and she looked ready for a fight. "Why don't you just tell me the truth?"

Minerva looked away, unable to think of what to say. This was not how she expected things to go despite her decision to tell Hermione the truth.

"You have a penis." Hermione blurted.

Minerva's head rose sharply and she eyed the younger witch anxiously, wondering what she would say next. The look on Hermione's face after her words was comical; it was clear that was not what she had intended to say.

"Oh, umm…" She had no idea how to respond and growing increasingly flustered, her anxiety caused her to shift from foot to foot. There was a small part of her that was amused by Hermione's reaction, but she was equally mortified. Sinking back into the chair, her hands crossed over her lap, she averted her eyes. "I don't typically tell anyone," Minerva admitted. "It's not like I have a beautiful witch sitting on my lap every other day." She tried for an air of nonchalance, but it fell just short.

Hermione chuckled dryly. "Well, if you were trying to hide it, pulling me onto your lap and falling asleep with me probably wasn't the best idea."

Minerva didn't know how to respond and sat twisting her hands together. She was a little hurt by Hermione's laughter.

"Are you ashamed?" Hermione asked, growing serious. She took a step closer.

Minerva's head shot up. "No!" She closed her eyes. "Ah, dinnae ken." She muttered, her accent making a rare appearance. "Mibbie."

"Your Scottish is showing," Hermione spoke softly and even without looking at the brunette, she could hear the smile in her voice. "You're a beautiful person. You know that, right? The fact you have a penis doesn't change that. Especially not in my eyes."

Minerva shook her head, unsure whether to believe the words. Glancing at Hermione, she spoke quietly. "When I was born, the howdie helping with the birthing was amazed at the sight of a wee lassie with such an enlarged—" She exhaled sharply before continuing. "—Uhm, clitoris." She whispered. "It wasnae somethin' she'd ever come across."

"Howdie?" Hermione questioned.

"The midwife," Minerva explained. "She called for the doctor an' it stumped him too. The fact is, my parents kept me because my màthair had read of this phenomenon during her time at Hogwarts, an' she threatened to leave my da if he did what he said an' sent me off to live elsewhere." She admitted.

"Minerva," Hermione began, taking another step closer. She hesitated when she held one hand up.

"My da was a Muggle, lass. The Reverend Robert McGonagall, a parish minister for the Church of Scotland. He couldn't believe he'd helped create a bairn that was so unnatural." Minerva scoffed. "T'auld yin came around, telling hisself it was God's will, an' he loved me in his way, but once he found out my màthair was a witch, and that she'd passed her magical abilities down tae me, it made things harder. My relationship with him was never easy, lass. He was far more accepting of my brothers when they came along."

Hermione shifted closer still to reach out and cup her chin to raise her head. When she met her gaze, her eyes shone with acceptance.

Minerva found herself unable to resist, leaning into the warm touch and relaxing slightly. "When I entered the Wizarding World fully at the age of eleven, like you, I began tae read everythin' I could. I learned my affliction, while not openly discussed, was well-documented. Even my husband, Elph, Merlin love him, didnae fully acknowledge it, tho' we only really wed for companionship."

"You were married?" Hermione dropped her hands and stepped back before sitting on the floor at her feet, her legs crossed, curiosity shining in her eyes.

Minerva felt the loss of Hermione's warm touch acutely. "Aye. I wed Elphinstone in '82. I lost him to a Venomous Tentacula bite in '85." Minerva sighed. "It was an intellectually fulfilling marriage, if nothin' else. I was happy with him for the short time we were together."

"But he didn't acknowledge that part of you?" Hermione queried.

"No. The only person who found out about me an' dinnae treat me any different was Albus." Minerva admitted shyly. "He was a good friend, but for whatever reason, he liked to keep his secrets, the daft old fart. He helped me to learn to accept my differences."

"I want you to know that I'll never treat you any differently," Hermione offered her a small smile. "This doesn't change who you are, Minerva."

"That's good," Minerva breathed, a flicker of hope rushing through her at Hermione's words. "I would like to retain our friendship."

Hermione scrambled to her feet. "Yeah, friendship." She muttered bitterly, bowing her head and turning away.

Feeling brave, Minerva stood up and stalked forward, grasping her bicep lightly and tugging her around to face her. "If that's all I can have, that's what I'll accept, lass." She stated before removing her hand.

Hermione looked up at her through her eyelashes, two fingers tugging one of her curls. "And what if I wanted more?" She queried, licking her lips and making them glisten.

Looking down, Minerva bit her lip nervously and rubbed the back of her neck. "Then I believe we should discuss this further, ghràidh," she replied. "Shall we sit?"

~()~

After pouring more whiskey into their glasses, Minerva fiddled with the plate holding the familiar thin crispbread she'd grown up consuming in her family home.

Oatcakes were one of the few things her máthair made well. Her recipe was so simple, using oatmeal, salt, butter and water. They were perfect with soft, crumbly Crowdie, due to their nutty, wholesome flavour mixing best with the sour cheese. It was also believed that the Crowdie could relieve the effects of whisky.

She knew her fidgeting was uncommon, but she had no idea how to start an open discussion with the witch sitting opposite her. In all honesty, she wished she could talk to her máthair again and seek her opinion on the swirling thoughts that so often crowded her brain, to ask her for advice on how to move forward right now.

"How about I start?" Hermione offered. Minerva nodded gratefully. "Okay, just make things clear, I recognised my feelings for you were changing in my fifth year." She swallowed a mouthful of whisky and grimaced. "Before then, I had a small crush that was easily dismissed. You were my favourite teacher, the one who introduced me to this new world. I told myself it was perfectly normal." She admitted.

Minerva picked up an oatcake, spread a little Crowdie on it before she bit down into it and taking a delicate bite, savoured the once familiar taste. "What was it that made you realise it was more?" She finally asked.

Hermione sighed. "I was in my Astronomy O.W.L when I watched that horrible toad and her henchmen hit you with those stunners. At that moment, when they hit and I saw you fly backwards and heard Hagrid's shout, I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. I wanted to rush down to you and make sure you were still alive." She admitted. "There was a part of me that wanted to curse those who had dared to do such a thing to you. I was distraught at the thought of losing you, and not just as my professor or a mentor, but as someone I knew, if given the chance, I could easily love. When I found out you were going to be okay, I was so relieved, I found a quiet corner, where I wouldn't be disturbed, and let myself cry."

Minerva unconsciously rubbed her chest where the stunners had hit her. "I had no idea, lass."

"I got my revenge." Hermione chuckled darkly. "I did worse than curse Umbridge. I made her biggest fear come true." She sat back and sighed. "I'd noticed she seemed to hate and fear what she couldn't understand and could never conquer, so I led her into the forest, in the hope we would encounter Hagrid's brother, Grawp. It was pure luck that we met the centaur herd and she insulted them."

Minerva chuckled. "Albus had his work cut out navigating her release. Bane was particularly stubborn about wanting to keep her and teach her a lesson." She sipped her drink, delighting in the familiar hint of toffee, malt and smoke provided by her family's single malt and relaxed further into her chair. "He told them she was more trouble than she was worth and they eventually agreed when he pointed out that it would only be a matter of time until the Ministry got involved."

"I'm actually surprised the Ministry didn't get involved," Hermione admitted.

"Fudge was under a lot of pressure. It was the night Voldemort showed himself after all." Minerva reminded.

"True." Hermione agreed. "Anyway, to go back to what I was saying, my feelings for you aren't exactly new."

"Is that why it didn't work with Mr Weasley?" Minerva queried.

"Not really." Hermione frowned. "It seemed like it was expected for us to be together, but I've always found some of his behaviour quite repulsive, especially his table manners."

"Or lack thereof," Minerva mumbled.

"Exactly. But what stopped me from giving any serious consideration to a relationship with him was that I couldn't get over the fact he left me and Harry on our search for Horcruxes." Hermione admitted.

"He left?" Minerva was astounded. "Honestly, I'm not surprised you couldn't forgive that, especially after everything you were forced to give up."

"When he returned, Harry forgave him instantly and I think he expected me to do the same," Hermione whispered sadly. "He was grinning like an idiot, thinking I'd welcome Ronald back with open arms." She shook her head. "If I had my wand at the time, I would have hexed them both." She sighed. "I sometimes wonder if Harry's simply the bigger person for being able to forgive the way he does."

"No!" Minerva exclaimed. "He's far too forgiving. There have been numerous occasions where Mr Weasley let his jealousy and insecurities get the better of him, and I'm fairly certain it'll happen again. You, on the other hand, stood by Potter and never wavered."

Hermione swiped at the tear that had appeared at her words. "It means a lot you saying that. Thank you."

Minerva stood and smoothing out her robes, moved towards the younger witch before kneeling before her. "You don't have to thank me for speaking the truth, lass." Reaching out, she brushed a stray tear from Hermione's cheek. "As for what we were discussing prior, inappropriate as it is, I began to notice you as more than my student in your fourth year." She caught Hermoine's surprised gaze. "It wasn't sexual. I simply realised you were no longer a child. It seemed that in the space of that summer, you'd grown into a beautiful young woman and I understood that your beauty would only increase. Your intelligence has always blown me away, Hermione, but your beauty, both inside and out, takes my breath away."

"You think I'm beautiful?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

Minerva smiled gently. "Aye, ghràidh. I do." As soon as she'd finished speaking, she found herself knocked back, her arms wrapping around the witch who held her heart. "I think you're the bonniest lass I've ever seen. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

~()~

As she rowed towards the next part of their journey, Minerva let her thoughts stray to the night before.

She and Hermione had stayed up late, drinking multiple glasses of Whisky, occasionally nibbling on the oatcakes with cheese, and discussing everything that had brought them to that point.

After admitting their feelings, they'd talked about what had happened that day, and Minerva had explained her concerns once more. This caused Hermione to pause, thinking deeply for a few minutes, before promising to try and take better care of herself. Minerva swore they would continue the Animagus training once she felt Hermione was strong enough.

Eventually, the discussion turned back to their relationship and they agreed to leave things as they were while Hermione continued her studies. Once she'd finished her NEWTs, they would decide how to move forward. She explained to Hermione that if she needed somewhere to live after graduation, she could help since she owned various properties, including the small two-bedroomed cottage just outside of Lower Hogsfield that she'd once shared with Elphinstone.

She'd also been open and honest with Hermione about some of the more unusual aspects of her condition, including the fact that if they were intimate, it was likely the act would bind them together for life. She reluctantly admitted it was why she'd spent her life keeping everyone at arm's length, unwilling to tie anyone to a situation they may come to regret and reiterated that her short marriage had simply been one of companionship.

She'd promised Hermione she would never push her into a situation that left her uncomfortable, even if her greatest wish was for them to be together.

Hermione had smiled shyly at her words before telling her she knew what being with her would involve since she'd read about ancient bondings in her second year after Lockhart had given her permission to access the Restricted Section of the library. One of the books she'd accessed included a chapter on Animagus mating and magical Hermaphroditism.

With their agreements in place, they sealed them with a chaste kiss. The brief meeting of lips left them both breathless and wanting more. Instead, they'd curled up together on the small sofa and let themselves sleep.

That morning, they had woken wrapped around each other, with Minerva's usual concealment charm no longer in effect and that part of her she'd kept hidden for so long making itself known. Upon realising, she'd moved quickly, falling off the sofa and standing up swiftly, before rushing to the small bathroom, where she'd spent at least 20 minutes pacing the few short steps and waiting for it to cease its morning salute.

On her return to the sitting room, Hermione had a pot of tea waiting and assurances that she had nothing at all to be embarrassed about.

Reaching the dock, Minerva gracefully lept over the side of the small skiff and pulled it to shore before reaching out to take Hermione's hand and guiding her over the stern with ease.

"I can feel the magic," Hermione spoke quietly.

"Aye. I'm not surprised." The veil of magic on this island was thicker than she'd anticipated. "I've told you what will happen now we are at Eilean na Bainne. We will seal the promises we've made to one another. They are binding promises, which are similar to an unbreakable vow, but without any negative effects if, for any reason, they're broken." She sighed. "If you are unsure about any of it, we can forgo this part and I can row us back to the mainland."

"I don't regret last night." Hermione insisted. "Well, other than the amount of whisky I drank." She grinned up at her cheekily. "It's lucky for us that Professor Flitwick had the foresight to provide those pepper-up potions."

Minerva stared down into the sparkling eyes set deeply into the pale face of the witch and brushed an unruly curl from her face before returning her smile. "Aye, Clan Ross Single Malt does have that effect. I'll be glad to get back to Hogwarts, eat a good meal, bathe and perhaps have a long nap."

Hermione leaned into her touch. "That sounds heavenly. Would you like some company?"

"I thought we'd agreed to leave things as they are?" Minerva asked, startled by the offer.

"Well, I just thought—" A blush formed over Hermione's defined cheekbones. "I didn't mean that how it sounded. It's just—I slept reasonably well in your arms last night, and hoped we could maybe expand the normal parameters of our friendship, and maybe take a nap together when needed."

Minerva sighed, partly in relief. "In all honesty, I think that sounds amazing." Holding her hand out, she smiled. 'Come on."

Stepping close, Hermione entwined their fingers and they moved together towards the centre of the small island, only coming to a stop when they were surrounded by a circular arrangement of low stones with three a pair of white candles in the centre.

"We are in the centre of a powerful Ring Cairn, ghràidh," Minerva explained. "This is where we seal the agreements we have come to." The island seemed extraordinarily secluded and other than the hum of magic, it was eerily quiet. Despite that, through the branches of the trees, she could see boats on the loch, and hear the low voices of the Muggles, clearly enjoying the spring morning on the water.

Thinking of the intent behind their presence on Eilean na Bainne, Minerva watched as the candles flickered to life. Lifting Hermione's hand to her lips, she pressed a light kiss to the back of it before letting go and stepping to the opposite side of the flickering wicks. "Shall we begin?" She asked.

"Okay." Hermione agreed.

Kneeling, Minerva breathed deeply and closed her eyes, hearing the shift that indicated Hermione had done the same.

"I, Minerva Grace McGonagall, promise Hermione Jean Granger that I will try to be more supportive, patient and understanding and to always push her to do and be the best to ensure she reaches her full potential. I promise to build upon the foundation we have already begun, working with her to overcome any fears." Leaning forward slightly, she blew out one of the candles. "I promise to be the person you can always turn to, to be your constant and your confidant. I promise to always challenge you to grow as a person. I promise to listen to you with compassion and understanding and to always speak to you with encouragement and respect. I will support you in whatever you choose to do in life and nurture your dreams."

Hermione's voice was soft when she spoke. "I, Hermione Jean Granger, promise Minerva Grace McGonagall that I will consider everything she asks of me and understand that it comes from hard-earned experience. I promise to always respect her, be honest with her, and cherish her. I will stand by her and support her through the good times and the bad." She blew out the candle. "I promise to love you without reservation, comfort you in times of distress and stand by you always. I promise to respect our differences. I promise to remain open and talk things out together."

Minerva opened her eyes and her lips quirked up in a small smile. "I promise to always protect you from harm and to look to you when I need protection."

Hermione grinned in return. "I promise I'll try to not always think I'm right, especially when I'm wrong."

For Minerva, it seemed like the weight of their pasts had been lifted from their shoulders. While she and Hermione had fought, in her heart, she knew that their bond was unbreakable. It was time for them to go home.

"May magic shine upon this decree," Minerva whispered.

"As we decree, so should it be," Hermione responded.

Their magic swirled around them before combining and settling over the area surrounding them.

Doing what was required, and picking up the nearest candle, Minerva watched Hermione do the same before feeling the familiar pulling sensation at her navel.

~()~

They landed side by side just outside of the North exit, Minerva took a moment to view the castle she'd called home for so long and felt the hum of its magic. Tearing her eyes away, she glanced at the younger witch beside her and saw she looked dumbfounded. "What is it, lass?" Her voice was gentle.

"I feel it," Hermione whispered. Meeting her eyes, she continued to explain. "The steady thrum of her magic." She smiled. "She's welcoming us back."

"She?" Minerva was curious. While she could feel the magic surrounding her, she'd never felt it was alive and capable of feeling.

"Yes. She is aware of our return and she's happy." Hermione's smile widened. "She loves magic, and the people within its walls. She provides a loyal home for those who are loyal to her." She gazed up at her. "She knows there none as loyal as you."

Minerva was stunned. "Lass, you are speaking as if Hogwarts is sapient?"

"Of course," Hermione's smile faltered and she looked bewildered. "When I first arrived here, it was like I could sense her feelings, understand them and the castle became home, in a way nothing else ever was."

Minerva marvelled at the new nugget of information she was learning. "You never mentioned anything."

Hermione looked at the castle and shrugged. "I assumed everyone felt that way, but after mentioning it to Luna, even she looked at me strangely. And then it stopped."

"Perhaps it didn't simply stop." Minerva took her hand and led her up the path towards the castle. "When did you notice you no longer felt the magic?"

They were silent as Hermione contemplated her answer. "I discovered it when I returned for my sixth year." She stalled when they reached the doors and they swung open to admit them into the Bell Tower Courtyard.

Glancing around and realising there was no one around, Minerva raised Hermione's hand and kissed the back of it before letting it go. "That was after you were cursed by Dolohov." She sighed. "You were severely injured that night at the Ministry. Some have died from that particular curse since it causes the complete and permanent cessation of function of whatever it strikes. Luckily, it was cast silently and you were treated quickly." She started to move forward, listening to the patter of Hermione's feet rushing to keep up.

"Why would being cursed make a difference?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"It shouldn't." Minerva glanced at the witch beside her and seeing her becoming a little breathless, adjusted her pace slightly to match the shorter stride of the younger woman. "Unless the effects of it lingered until his demise or a part of your magical core needed additional time to regain its usual ability to sense such magic."

They moved across the Transfiguration Courtyard together in silence and she could sense the question burning at the tip of the younger witch's tongue. With a wave of her hand, she cast a wandless charm to unlock the double doors of the Transfiguration Classroom and moved to the right of the room, where her old office was. "While I feel the magic of Hogwarts more because of my position as Headmistress, you are different, but I have a book that may be of interest." She moved to the large bookcase covering one wall and ran her fingertips over the titles.

"You mentioned his demise?" Hermione queried.

"Antonin Dolohov died during the final battle after he engaged Filius in a duel he was unable to win, lass." Minerva pulled a book free and turning, caught Hermione's gaze. "I thought you knew."

"That was almost a year ago." Hermione looked down at her feet, tugging her fingers nervously. "So why can I only feel Hogwarts again now?"

"That is why I suggested you possibly needed additional time. Thanks, in part to our time on Eilean a' Chombraidh, you are far less tense and potentially more receptive to the magic surrounding us. You've had a stressful time of it over the past few years. That could also be a factor since our magic is affected by our emotional state." She smiled softly and held the book out. "This is from my collection, a rare find many years ago. A diary of one of the previous headmistresses of Hogwarts. It holds some information on the Ancient Magic held under the foundations of Hogwarts, a repository so powerful that very few know of its presence. Not even Albus knew, and I did not see fit to enlighten him of it. I was wary that he may use it in his quest for the greater good and unleash something with catastrophic consequences on our world."

Taking the book, Hermione opened it to a random page and started to read out loud. "At the heart of every little thing we do, is compassion. It is the most precious quality we possess. What Isodora didn't understand, in her experimentation to ease the pain and suffering of family, friends and eventually her students, while initially well-intentioned, is that she lost her compassion to her desire for power, and with that loss, what it is to be human."

"There are many mentions of Isodora," Minerva advised lightly. "Her tale is told in part through the words inked onto the pages of parchment bound within the cover of the book you hold."

"Why are you trusting me with this?" Hermione asked, leaning back against one of the chairs.

"This particular headmistress has a portrait in my office. Niamh Fitzgerald was a natural leader and fierce protector of everyone under her care. She inspired those around her to find the courage to pursue answers, even in the hardest situations, but she also believed in kindness and compassion above all else." Minerva started to pace. "We have lived through war, risking our own lives, lass. I believe we deserve to experience those things." She stopped speaking when warm arms encircled her waist and Hermione rested her chin on her shoulder before pressing soft lips against her neck. "I want you to realise, we deserve to be happy." She whispered.

"We will be," Hermione muttered. "I promise."

~(Fin)~