Pins and Needles
Chapter 8: Cushion Talk
By now, Hermione did no longer hesitate to join Minerva in the library at night. In fact, if she had been completely honest with herself, she would have had to admit that she had not even been trying to fall asleep tonight, but instead been reading merely to pass a socially acceptable amount of time before going down again. As had become their custom, the blanket materialised before she had even reached her destination. Minerva had shown her how a rather simple illusion spell made it appear to be a part of the couch as long as it was not needed thus she could easily have summoned it herself, but somehow allowing Minerva to do so made her feel more welcome and even a bit pampered in some oddly satisfying way. She made herself comfortable, sitting sideways to face Minerva. Trying, but failing, to make out the title of the book that Minerva had dropped down on her lap, she asked, "What are you reading?"
"Just some poetry," Minerva answered, trying to appear nonchalant.
Such a vague answer, however, was rather unusual for Minerva who was always eager to discuss her reading materials. Which, of course, did not go unnoticed by Hermione and only served to increase her curiosity. "Read to me?"
"Um …" Minerva blushed. "No." Hermione's expression clearly betrayed her confusion at the flat-out refusal. After another moment of hesitation, the older witch let out a resigned sigh and turned the book so that Hermione could read the title. The young woman's blush mirrored her own and she added, "You are a bit earlier than usual tonight. And, of course, you are quite welcome to check it out yourself." She floated the book back to its shelf.
"I didn't know Rowena Ravenclaw had written poetry," Hermione said, in an obvious effort to keep the conversation going. She was feeling amused more than awkward and did not intend to let this little hiccup spoil their evening.
Picking up on the younger woman's mood, Minerva allowed herself a relieved smile. "Well, it was put in Hogwarts' restricted section for a reason. This particular edition also includes Salazar Slytherin's scathing condemnation, as recorded in his diaries and letters."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "He must have been really charming."
Minerva chuckled. "An accurate assessment, I should think. In the interest of fairness though, most of his contemporaries would have felt the same way. Not only are the poems quite explicit, they have also clearly been inspired by Sappho's works."
Now grinning widely, Hermione nodded. "That would have been a real hit."
Back to her usual composed self, Minerva went on, "They really are quite good though. If you are interested at all, I heartily recommend you read them."
Hermione's reply was as expected. "Oh, I definitely will." Thinking back to the photo on the fireplace mantel that Minerva had skipped during her explanations a few nights back, Hermione bit her lip while considering her next words. Finally, she let her Gryffindor side take over. "May I ask you something personal?" Close as she was, she could not help but notice Minerva tensing up again, but she got a nod as well. Deciding not to beat around the bush, she asked, "Are you gay?" When Minerva did not respond right away, however, she quickly felt her valour leave her and tried to retract her question. "Forget it, it's none of my business. I'm–"
Minerva stopped her with a raised hand. "I am old enough to never have used that particular term to describe myself. But yes, I am a lesbian." She failed to keep the apprehension she felt out of her voice. "Does it bother you?"
Hermione's response was quick and decisive. "Of course not!" More calmly, she continued, "You should not even be asking this." Minerva's slight smile told her that she had recognised the echo of their conversation a few nights earlier. Hermione went on, "It's why I decided to just ask flat out. I would hate for you to feel like you have to hide inside your own home."
"That is …," there was a little pause before Minerva settled on a word, "... appreciated." The grateful smile that accompanied the words left no doubt that they were heartfelt.
For a few moments they just sat there in comfortable silence. Minerva had relaxed visibly, but Hermione was still musing over the other woman's initial reaction. "Does it bother you?" she finally asked.
Minerva appeared to be pondering the question for a few seconds. "Somewhat." She shrugged. "I do not think it is sinful or immoral, if that is what you are asking. But I could have done without the heartbreak."
Hermione felt her heart clench. What she had heard about Minerva's history so far had been painful enough. "What happened?"
"Katherine." With a slight wave of her right hand, Minerva accioed the rightmost photograph off the mantel and handed it to Hermione. It showed a much younger Minerva and a woman Hermione now knew to be Katherine having a picnic on some flat rocks that appeared to be in the middle of a small river near an old water mill. Minerva went on, "That's Westerdale Mill, quite close to here. We used to go there all the time." She smiled wistfully, then continued, "We were partners for almost eight years, but her family shunned her for it. Eventually she could not bear it any longer and left. That was not enough to evade my family's tradition though. She also died in the war shortly afterwards."
The emotion in Minerva's voice and the fact that the photograph was still on display led to an obvious conclusion. "You still loved her."
Minerva nodded even though it had not been phrased as a question. "Of course. You do not stop loving someone just because you are told to. I was still hoping she would come around." She silently stared at the photograph that Hermione had handed back to her for several seconds before floating it back to the mantel. Only after she had carefully put it down again, did she add, "I still think she would have."
Reaching out to gently touch Minerva's hand, Hermione said, "I am so sorry for your loss." Shifting her eyes towards the other photographs, she swiftly corrected herself, "Losses."
Minerva shrugged. "It has been a long time."
"Time doesn't heal everything, does it?" The ensuing silence was all the answer Hermione needed, so she decided not to push the issue. "How did your family feel about your relationship?"
Grateful for the slight change of topic, Minerva answered, "My brothers could not have cared less, they never even batted an eye. In fact, I believe Robert quite enjoyed the feeling of sharing an interest in women with me. He was a bit of a womaniser." Noticing Hermione's obvious amusement, she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Quite unlike me, I might add." Growing serious again, she continued, "I only told my parents after Katherine and I had already been together for three years. It took them several months, but then I got home for Christmas to see that photograph standing there. They told me to bring her by some time and when I let slip that she was spending Christmas on her own as her family did not want to see her and she still had insisted that I spend it with mine my mother practically ordered me to get her here to celebrate with us. My brothers knew her already and my parents and Katherine instantly took to each other. That Christmas, all of it, is one of the fondest memories I have of my family. I have rarely felt this happy and content, before or after." She shook her head, as if to chase off the past, and continued, "Sorry. I did not mean to bore you with my sentimental ramblings."
Hermione shook her head in protest. "You're not! I am so happy to hear that not everything was pain and heartbreak." They sat in silence for a moment before Hermione spoke up again, "So … is it some huge secret that you have been carrying around since then? Or is it just one of these things students tend not to be aware of?"
"It is not exactly a secret, it just has never been relevant again, seeing as I have not been with anyone since Katherine. And back then, we never even considered not being utterly discreet, especially considering her family's reaction. So no, it is not common knowledge either. I am pretty sure that Molly has a solid hunch though. When the topic came up – in some other context – she made sure to emphasise the fact that she does not mind. Twice." She let out a small sigh. "And Albus knew."
"Did he mind?" Hermione asked. She could not really imagine so, but had to admit that she had never really gotten to know the man behind the headmaster. She could have sworn she saw the slightest hint of an amused smile tugging at Minerva's lips at the question, but the other woman did not elaborate, instead merely shaking her head. Deciding against prying any further, Hermione settled for, "You really must miss him a lot."
For a moment Minerva appeared lost in thought, then she nodded. "I do."
Hermione had the distinct feeling that this moment of silence held yet another story altogether, but decided that Minerva had endured enough soul-baring for one evening, so she simply said, "Thank you, Minerva."
"Whatever for?" Minerva asked.
"Sharing so much with me."
Minerva rolled her eyes once again. "You mean for dumping all those memories on you."
"I meant what I said. I …", she hesitated and decided that 'want to know everything about you' sounded far too creepy before continuing with, "... really appreciate getting to know you like this. I'm willing to bet that there aren't many people who do."
Minerva gave her a mirthless smile. "You would win that bet. With Albus gone … He was one of the few people left who still had known them." She gestured towards the photographs. "It sometimes feels as if it was all just a dream."
It had been rather obvious that Minerva and Dumbledore had been friends, even from a student's limited perspective, but until now Hermione had had no idea just how hard his death must have hit Minerva. Trying to offer what little comfort she could, she said, "I never knew them. And I certainly cannot replace them, or Albus, or anyone else you lost. But I can, and will, listen whenever you want to talk about them. Happily."
Minerva shook her head slightly. "They are just ghosts from the past. It is silly to dwell on them."
Hermione felt her heart break a little. Surely Minerva did not really believe that. "You know that's not true. It's your life. These people and these stories made you who you are. There's nothing silly about it."
Minerva shrugged, not seeming completely convinced, but apparently not eager to further contest the issue. Instead, she said, "Speaking of people who made you who you are … Will you tell me about your parents? You mentioned they were not supporting you anymore when we met at the Vellum."
Hermione remembered her slip of the tongue that day all too well. She had known that Minerva was going to ask about it at some point and she had been dreading the question ever since. For a moment or two she actually considered not answering, but after everything Minerva had shared so far, it hardly seemed fair. So she forced herself to tell her what had happened, haltingly at first, but after she had mentioned the memory charm and Minerva still continued to listen without interrupting her, the words came more easily. For the first time ever, she told the whole story, concluding with "... and then they chose to just stay in Australia instead of starting over once more and told me in no uncertain terms that if I were to visit them I better leave my wand behind. Which I simply cannot bring myself to do, the war has left me too paranoid by far for that." She furiously wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Minerva had handed her at some point, angry at herself for crying once again.
At first, Minerva did not know what to say. She had been certain that the souring of Hermione's relationship with her parents was some kind of fallout of the war – anything else would have been too much of a coincidence – but she had not been expecting this kind of story. Feeling helpless, she offered, "I could go with you to Australia. To offer protection, I mean."
Hermione snorted. "I doubt that's what they have in mind. And anyway, I believe the three of us are better off exchanging the occasional Christmas card and otherwise keeping out of each other's hair."
Minerva let out a defeated sigh. "For what it is worth, I am certain you did indeed save their lives with your actions. I am truly sorry you lost them anyway."
"I sometimes think I lost them the moment I first boarded the Hogwarts Express."
Minerva felt a sharp pang of guilt at hearing those words. "We should have put a lot more effort into making muggle born students welcome, involving their families as well. With students not even allowed to use magic outside school, it is hardly a surprise the rift can easily become too wide to bridge, even without a war going on. I am sorry for failing you."
Hermione shook her head. "I should have made more of an effort to involve them myself. Spending Christmas holidays at Hogwarts may not have been the brightest idea, to name just one thing."
"It seems a bit harsh to expect your teenage self to have that kind of far-sightedness," Minerva objected.
Hermione considered Minerva's words for a moment and decided they had some merit. Feeling somewhat lighter, she grinned, "I will have you know that I still am my teenage self, thank you very much."
Returning the smile, Minerva answered, "Only technically, my dear."
Hermione's grin widened. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"As intended." Minerva was still smiling, but her voice had been completely serious nevertheless.
She was not quite sure why, but Hermione could feel herself blushing. Hoping the dim light would keep Minerva from noticing and also wanting to sustain the somewhat lighter mood that had developed, she quickly went on, "Speaking of teenagers, will you tell me about your time at Hogwarts? As a student, I mean."
And soon enough Minerva had delved into a story about the mischief she and her best friend had been up to during their fourth year at Hogwarts.
Time appeared to fly, as it had on every one of these nights. When Hermione's yawns became too frequent to ignore any longer, Minerva grabbed her wand, murmured quiet incantations and, as she had on every one of these nights, made the library's furniture turn into comfortable beds. And, as they had on every one of these nights, they were both fast asleep soon after.
Notes:
Rowena Ravenclaw's explicit poetry is another idea picked up in someone else's story: "Nine Ways of Looking at a Book" by pauraque.
I also have a bit of a problem, personally, with the time setting of the books. I do know they take place in the 90s, of course, but it was never really relevant to the story. For me they keep feeling like they belong into the present like they did (more or less) when I first read them even though twenty years have gone by since then and 'the present' has evolved quite a bit. Anyway, this is just a really long winded way of telling you that you'll have to assume the world's current stance on homosexuality for my HP stories, including this one. If I wanted to do repressed sexuality and backward attitudes I'd rather go all the way and get serious about doing some Downton fics ;) Aside from that, my little time warp shouldn't matter much.
