You Should Probably Leave

by pagesix

Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall find themselves in a slight moral dilemma. Page break was not cooperating with me so I had to mark the scene changes.

You Should Probably Leave

"Where have you been?" Harry Potter began his interrogation before Hermione even had a chance to sit in the open chair next to him.

Hermione's attempt at an angry glare fell flat in the face of Harry's obvious pleasure with her discomfort.

"You look like hell. What happened to you last night after the meeting? Did you go out?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Hermione granted, her voice gravelly and harsh, the aftermath of a long night.

"So?"

Harry had to wait for his answer as their waiter intruded. "Drinks to start?"

"Not for me, thanks." Hermione declined.

"I'll take a pint of your pale ale." Harry requested. "Nothing for you?" Harry grilled Hermione when the waiter left.

"I'm still feeling it from last night."

"You?! Hermione Granger?! You got pissed?"

"Plastered."

"At dinner?"

"It started there. And then continued after."

"So you did go out. Did you go with anyone?" Harry leered, enjoying having the opportunity to torment Hermione.

"How old are you? Yes, I went out with someone."

"Did you go to a club?"

"No, we just went to a pub before going home."

"Huh." Harry sat back in his chair to study Hermione. "Nope, not just a pub. You did something. What was it?"

Hermione glared balefully at her oldest friend. She was always a terrible liar and Harry could read her like a comic book. There were no secrets between them. Wishing she had ordered a large drink, Hermione gave in. She grabbed Harry's hand leaned in close, and blurted out in a fierce angst-filled whisper; "I slept with Minerva." Her expression formed a fair impression of an anxious pug at her own words.

"Minerva…?" Harry hedged.

"Minerva McGonagall, Harry. I slept with the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall."

"Oh…wow…"

"How do I get myself into these situations?"

"I don't know. I mean…you always sort of fancied her…"

"Harry!"

"And, really, what's the issue? You've been divorced from Ron for, like eight years. The kids are grown up now; out on their own…"

Conversation came to another pause while their lunch orders were placed. Once they were alone again, Hermione continued in a more reasonable tone.

"Harry, I'm fifty years old. I'm too old to be having one-night stands, especially with Minerva."

"It's not like she's not of age."

"Don't be an ass."

"Well, how old is she now? A hundred?"

"Ninety-seven."

"Ok, so, according to your own research paper on thaumaturgic aging, half-bloods physically mature at about half the rate of muggles after the age of majority, so…"

"Harry, I don't bloody well care that Minerva's age is equivalent to fifty-seven. Do you not understand? I had a one-night stand with Minerva McGonagall. The Minister of Magic does not have one-night stands, especially with the headmistress of Hogwarts. And if that isn't bad enough, I sure as hell don't have a one-night stand with the most venerated witch of our age."

"Well…I don't know. Some would say you might be the most venerated… or at least a close second."

"Oh, my god. You are impossible. How am I supposed to have any professional collaboration with her now? I can't face her…"

"Why not? What happened? Did she say anything to you after?"

"No! I left before she woke up."

"Wait! You ducked out on Minerva? Real mature, Minister"

"Piss off. Nothing about this entire situation was mature."

"So, what are you going to do if she tries to contact you? Ghost her?"

"I can't, can I? Unless I run away from my entire life, I can't avoid her. There's too much professional overlap."

Lunch was presented, giving Hermione a few moments to pull herself together. Before she could take a bite of her salad, Harry goaded her again. "Why don't you take the bull by the horns and ask her out?"

Hermione sat for half a minute with her fork halfway to her mouth which was open in shock. Dropping her fork, she pushed her lunch away, her appetite lost to her stress.

"You going to eat the chicken?" Harry grinned.

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After extensive personal deliberation, Hermione decided to attend the annual memorial dinner dance without a plus one. She managed to avoid Minerva for two months after their intoxicated impetuous encounter and she was feeling confident enough to face the headmistress without using an escort as a buffer.

The event gave Minerva the home advantage since Hogwarts hosted, but Hermione, being the minister of magic, was granted apparation access, so she did have an emergency escape exit available if needed.

The pre-dinner social hour was always a networking scramble when everyone with a political agenda maneuvered for face time with the minister. After the initial round of greetings, Hermione was inundated with ideas, plans, requests, and demands. Through it all, she never laid eyes on Hogwarts' headmistress. She realized the error of her plan when the dinner gong rang and she made her way to her designated seat. Having decided to attend unaccompanied, the organizers paired her with the only other solo dignitary at the head table.

"Minister, lovely to see you this evening."

Minerva's warm contralto voice purred suggestively in Hermione's ear. The executive of the wizarding government nearly fell out of her seat as her head whipped around to assess the veiled challenge in the words. She perceived no more than a playful mirth sparkling in Minerva's gleaming green eyes behind familiar glasses. Releasing a shaky breath, Hermione attempted an undaunted smile in greeting.

"Thank you, Headmistress. It is always a pleasure to see you."

"Is it?" a thin eyebrow arched dubiously.

"Of course," Hermione swallowed a sudden bout of panic, the self-assured smile melting into a frown.

Gratified with gaining the upper hand, Minerva turned to her right to open a conversation with Ron Weasley's wife, Glynis.

Flustered beyond composure, Hermione leaned to her left, dug her fingers into Harry's forearm, and whispered frantically, "I am in trouble."

"What's wrong?"

"Minerva. She's the cat and I am definitely the mouse. Help me!" Hermione's plea was cut off by the arrival of the first course.

The dinner progressed without any further harassment from Minerva. In fact, the women barely shared more than a sentence between them throughout the meal. Once dessert was distributed and Minerva had run out of conversation topics with Glynis, the usually stoic headmistress once again turned her attention to Hermione.

"Rumor has it you are going to propose that unicorns be assigned to the endangered species protection bill."

"Their numbers have dropped off severely since the war. Once word got out about Riddle's attempt to use their blood to achieve immortality, poachers have become barbarous."

"Is that not just the definition of poacher?"

"Unethical and morally bankrupt; yes. But it has gotten out of hand. The poor creatures need our intervention before they are wiped from the earth."

"Undoubtedly. Being true beasts, unlike the Centaurs, they do not have the ability to reason. Although naturally timid and wary they can be easily caught with a modicum of patience."

"I don't want to only include them on the endangered species list, but also make them the property of the Crown to warrant the highest penalty for violation."

While the women continued to discuss sobering topics, Minerva subtly plied Hermione with a steady stream of alcohol. By the time the dance floor was opened and the band struck the first chord, they were both feeling quite loose. As attendees moved about relocating their observation positions around the periphery, the two witches were pulled in different directions by people seeking consultations.

"Might I steal you away for a moment, Minister?" Minerva blatantly broke into a conversation Hermione had been drawn into to get her lively debating partner back.

"By all means," Hermione grinned, more than willing to follow Minerva anywhere.

"I have an article in my library that will better clarify the theory of the Transfiguration echo," Minerva explained as they strode from the hall, her head bent close to Hermione, creating a picture of intimacy.

Once out of sight of the festivities, Minerva slid her arm around Hermione's waist and whispered, "Hold on, my dear."

Hermione was barely aware of the familiar enchanted tug when she opened her eyes to find herself in Minerva's home library. She nearly stumbled as Minerva stepped away to search a bookshelf.

Sliding a newer copy of Transfiguration Today from the stack, Minerva turned to discover Hermione had silently followed her and was standing in her shadow.

"Oh. I am sorry." Minerva apologized, having accidentally elbowed Hermione in her ribs.

"It's alright. I'm fine."

Minerva studied Hermione's eyes; open, uncensored, and glossy from drink. Swallowing hard against a dry mouth and considering a sudden bout of conscience; she placed a hand against Hermione's sternum to stay her advance.

"You should probably leave," she barely breathed into the narrow span between them. "I know that look in your eyes."

"We both know where this is going. You intentionally brought me here."

"You want me to say that I want you to stay, but I think you really should go."

"Your words may be saying one thing, but I'm hearing something else whispered in my ear." Hermione leaned forward, shrinking the tentative gap.

"Hermione, I am trying to do the right thing here." Minerva held the magazine up in front of Hermione's face.

"You didn't bring me here to reassert your sense of gallantry." Hermione pushed the publication aside.

Minerva dropped the magazine and released the pressure against Hermione's chest, eliminating the distance.

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"Hey 'Mione. Alright?" Harry greeted Hermione at his front door.

"Is Ginny here?"

"She's out shopping with Molly, why?"

"I really need to talk to you." Hermione pushed past Harry.

"Right." Harry softly closed the door and followed his friend into the sitting room. "What's wrong?"

"I did it again…" Hermione collapsed into an armchair.

"Ummm… and what would that be?"

"Minerva…"

"What…you..?"

"Yup. Last night."

"Well, that explains why you disappeared early." Harry earned an angry glare. "Did you stay this time?"

"No."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"Tell me this is as ludicrous as it feels and convince me to not do it ever again."

"I could do, yeah, but you won't listen. If you want my honest advice I'd say talk to the woman when you're sober."

"That's easy for you to say."

"It is." Harry grinned. "Invite her to dinner, just the two of you. Have a grown-up conversation."

"And say what?"

"Well, what do you want, Hermione?"

"I don't know."

"Then, figure it out. It's fine if you want to continue as is. If you don't want her, then stop. If you want something more, then tell her. Telling me isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I think I'm having a midlife crisis."

"I think your crisis is that you believe you're only worth having clandestine affairs. More specifically, you think you're only worth a clandestine affair to Minerva. And that, my friend, has nothing to do with midlife anything. You've always considered yourself less than worthy of Minerva's approval."

"I hate this."

"What, the truth?"

"No. The fact you know me so well."

"Isn't that why you're here now?"

"Yes." Hermione sullenly agreed.

"You want some lunch?"

"What are you having?"

"Just a sandwich."

"Sure."

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Two weeks after Hermione got an earful from Harry, she decided to face the situation head-on, like a true Gryffindor. She wanted to clear the air with Minerva before the next board of directors meeting. If she was going to embarrass herself, she preferred to do it without an audience of stuffed shirts. The owl that carried her missive was returned with an answer:

Minister,

Your invitation is welcome and I am delighted to accept.

I will see you Friday evening.

Warmest regards,

M. McGonagall

Determined to remain sober, Hermione set out a single bottle of wine to pair with dinner. Setting the lamb shanks under a warming spell, she turned her attention to throwing a salad together. She was grateful for her meticulously planned schedule when a knock on the door heralded Minerva's arrival before Hermione broke into the liquor cabinet from nerves.

"Minerva, thank you for agreeing to dinner."

"Thank you for the invitation, Minister. What is the occasion?"

"No occasion," Hermione disclosed, "nor agenda. I simply wanted to have the enjoyment of your company."

"Is that so? And am I to believe you will not disappear before dessert?"

Although the words were spoken lightly, Hermione heard the indignation behind them.

"I swear I will not abandon you. May I take your shawl?"

Minerva shrugged out of her wrap and followed Hermione into the dining room.

"Dinner is ready to be served unless you would like a cocktail?"

Minerva's mouth twitched, suppressing an evil grin. "I think forgoing cocktails would be advisable."

"Fair enough. Please…" Hermione drew a chair out for Minerva.

Hermione managed to direct the conversation to insignificant topics through the salad course. Midway through their dinner, she ran out of trivia and nervously broached the topic of concern.

"Minerva, may I ask you something?"

"I am here as your guest. I believe that gives you certain rights."

"Not going to make this easy, are you?" Hermione muttered.

"To what are you referring?"

"I'm referring to what has been going on between us."

"Going on?"

"Minerva, you know damn well what I'm talking about. Now will you please stop being so evasive and talk to me?"

"Are you sure you don't want more wine?"

"I wasn't hiding behind the bottle the last time. You were the one who kept pouring."

Minerva closed down, refusing to give credence to the accusation.

"Both times occurred under the influence," Hermione hedged. "I presume the first was not planned and was merely a reaction to mutual attraction."

Without a sign of confirmation or denial, Hermione continued stumbling through the emotional landmine. "The last time, you undeniably got me drunk. Was it genuinely your design to seduce me?"

Still no response.

"If that was your plan, did you honestly think I needed to be pissed to accept your advances?"

Nothing.

"Because I'm here to tell you now, I do not need the aid of alcohol, drug, or potion to encourage me where you are concerned."

"Do not mock me." Minerva's anger seethed.

"I'm not. I am trying to be truthful. And I am so afraid that you are a second away from standing from this table and announcing that you should leave."

"As I ought to do."

"No, Minerva, you ought not."

"If you are as eager as you say, why did you sneak off? Both times?"

"Two drunken one-night stands. Does that sound like something you would hang around in the light of day to review?"

Minerva pursed her lips in displeasure.

"Look, Minerva, this may be an unconventional way to get us to the goal, but I am interested. I'm interested in you, and I'm interested in the potential for an 'us'. Are you in agreement, or has it only been…well…a physical thing for you?"

"Oh, don't be absurd."

"So, you might be agreeable to maybe…dating?"

"Have we not been, already?"

"What?"

"We have had many dinners together over the years. We are compatible. We share similar interests. We are comfortable together and we do not suffer some cloying need to be together every minute of the day."

"That may be true, but I don't think we can call it dating if we were not both agreed to the idea."

Minerva's face was pinched in embarrassment. "I…dae nae know how…"

"How to what?"

"How to be…romantic."

Hermione smiled softly and reached for Minerva's hand. "Sweetheart, I'm not looking for romance."

Minerva squeezed Hermione's fingers gratefully. "I have never experienced the romantic love one reads about. I am not saying I have never experienced love…" Minerva quickly elaborated. "When I was quite young, there was a man from my home village who wooed me. Dougal McGregor. His courtship consisted of taking me on walks over the hills and telling me all about his plans for taking over his father's farm. He was earnest and steady... and attractive. I could have done worse. I accepted his betrothal but the very next day, I broke it. I could not possibly promise myself to a man to whom, at the time, I could not reveal my magic. I would not live a life as anything but what I truly am."

"I'm sorry Minerva."

"'Tis ancient history."

"Weren't you married once?" Hermione wondered, her mind sifting through all the articles she had read about the estimable witch.

"Aye. I was. To a dear man. Elphinstone Urquart. He was my supervisor when I worked for the ministry, so many moons ago. We were friends. We stayed in touch after I began my employment at Hogwarts. Every time we would get together for lunch or dinner, he would tell me to marry him." At Hermione's expression, she assured, "Yes…he told me to marry him. He convinced me that we were a good partnership. I was comfortable with him. We did get on and he challenged me intellectually. Again, I could have done worse. I was not young. I expected my chance of a passionate romantic love was beyond me. So, I married him. And I was not unhappy. Of course, I lost him to a stupid accident three years in."

"Merlin, Minerva. That is…" Hermione added her other hand to their conjoined grasp, holding Minerva's one with both of hers.

Minerva stared blankly at their hands. "I have had a few dalliances over the years. I found those to be nearer to a romantic ideal. There was passion and fervor. I suppose that is what I want to give you; that feeling of excitement and affection."

"I did feel the excitement." Hermione grinned.

The morphing of Minerva's expression from severity to amusement warmed Hermione's heart.

"Minerva?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you allow me to court you? Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, get away with you." Minerva laughed.

"I'm just gonna take that as a yes. Min?"

"Yes Hermione?" Minerva responded her eyes and voice reflecting the lightness she was feeling.

"Will you stay here with me tonight? Without the aid of alcohol? And see if we're still compatible?"

"Are you certain, Hermione?"

"Categorically."

"You will not disappear in the dark of night?"

"Absolutely not. This is my house."

"You will join me for breakfast." Minerva voiced her request more so as an order.

"As you wish, but you better cook."

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Fin.

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Notes:

"You Should Probably Leave" Lyrics

I know it ain't all that late

But you should probably leave

And I recognize that look in your eyes

Yeah, you should probably leave

'Cause I know you and you know me

And we both know where this is gonna lead

You want me to say that I want you to stay

So you should probably leave

Yeah, you should probably leave

There's still time for you to finish your wine

Then you should probably leave

And it's hard to resist, alright, just one kiss

Then you should probably leave

'Cause I know you and you know me

And we both know where this is gonna lead

You want me to say that I want you to stay

So you should probably leave

Yeah, you should probably leave

Like a devil on my shoulder you keep whisperin' in my ear

And it's gettin' kinda hard for me to do the right thing here

I wanna do the right thing, baby

Sun on your skin, 6 a.m.

And I been watchin' you sleep

And honey, I'm so afraid

You're gonna wake up and say

That you should probably leave

'Cause I know you and you know me

And we both know where this is gonna lead

I want you to stay, but you'll probably say

That you should probably leave

Yeah, you should probably leave

Oh, you should probably leave

Songwriters: Christopher Stapleton / Ashley Gorley / Charles Du Bois