One Night

Based on the song One Night by the Coors.

"I said I don't want to discuss it now." Hermione's angry voice preceded her into the kitchen alerting Harry and Ginny of her arrival.

"But, 'Mione," Ron whined as he followed at his wife's heels. "You have to believe me…"

Hermione whirled around forcing him to stumble to a stop. "You do not have the right to tell me what I have to do."

"What happened now?" Harry Potter inquired with a roll of his eyes as he passed over a glass of wine and a pint of butterbeer to his friends.

Hostile whisky-brown eyes snapped in challenge, daring Harry to choose sides wisely. " Your friend thought it was a good idea to carry on with an 'innocent and meaningless' extramarital affair for the past five months." She acidly explained after accepting the glass of pinot.

The room fell into a stunned silence while the weight of Hermione's words sank in.

"No, you didn't!" Ginny hotly insisted.

"It wasn't anything…" Ron weakly defended himself.

"Ron," Harry cut in. "What did you do?"

"Nothing…really…"

"Sleeping around with someone while married to another is not 'nothing'!" Hermione hissed.

Ron took a swig of his beer trying to ignore the accusing eyes glaring at him. "It wasn't anything important. Just a bit of fun. It's not like we've been having any fun lately." He sneered at Hermione.

"Oh, my god!" Hermione choked past a mouthful of wine.

"Bloody hell, Ron. What is wrong with you?!" Ginny barked.

"Oh, mate…" Harry shook his head in disappointment.

"What?!" Ron protested. "I have to work all day, keep the house, and watch Rose all the time while Miss High and Mighty here is off rubbing elbows with all the hoity-toity politicos at the ministry in some ridiculous attempt to position herself for Minister of Magic. I deserve some attention."

"You stupid git!" Ginny yelled.

"You deserve ?" Hermione dropped into a kitchen chair astounded at Ron's diatribe.

"Yeah, I do deserve. You aren't ever around. The few moments you have to spare, you're constantly doting on Rose. You barely even say hello to me."

"So, this is all my fault?"

"Partly…" Ron crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair with a huff.

"How old are you, you prat?" Ginny yelled.

"Gin…" Harry placed a calming hand on his wife's shoulder. "The kids are just in the other room." He gently reminded.

"Right…well… this is going to take a lot to unpack." Hermione sounded distant and her eyes remained focused on the floor. "Ron, you need to find somewhere to stay for a while."

"What? No way."

"Ron." Harry sharply warned. "Don't."

"You will find another place to stay." Hermione continued. "Ginny? Harry? Can you take Rose for a few days?"

"Of course, we can." Ginny agreed without waiting for Harry's consent.

"Ok, good. Thank you." Hermione stood. "Ron, I'll find you when I'm ready to talk."

"'Mione…"

Hermione turned a blistering glare at Ron which effectively shut him up.

"I need to go." The betrayed witch escaped the enclosing claustrophobia. She stopped long enough to explain to her daughter that she needed to go away for a few days for a work emergency before vanishing from the Potter's bungalow.

Hermione weaved through the throngs of ministry staffers caught up in their exodus from the workweek. She was engrossed in the contents of the file in her hands when she sidestepped an oncoming wizard and ran into a solid wall dressed in dark emerald green robes.

"Oh, goodness. Are you alright?" A vaguely familiar voice floated down to Hermione. "Here, allow me."

Hermione glanced up to find a slender hand offered. Accepting the aid, she grasped the soft warm hand and was hoisted to her feet. She straightened her outfit before finally looking up to be held frozen by the open gaze of Minerva McGonagall.

"Oh, Professor…um…thank you…"

"You are welcome, Miss Granger. Oh, I apologize," Minerva smirked, "Mrs Weasley."

"You know I kept my name." Hermione accused playfully with a smile.

"Do I? Yes, I suppose I do."

"Sorry, I ran into you."

"No need to be. No harm done."

"Ok, well…thanks again. Nice to see you, Professor." Hermione began to step away when she was arrested by the same hand that pulled her from the floor.

"Ms. Granger, are you busy this evening?"

Hermione turned to fully face her old teacher. "Nothing but a bowl of soup over a case study."

"Would you care to join me for dinner? I was going to just go home, but I would prefer a nice meal with a lovely companion if you are agreeable."

Hermione briefly considered her options. She wasn't due to pick Rose up from the Potter residence until the following afternoon, and she had no other demands on her evening. "I think I would really enjoy that. Thank you."

"Shall we?" Minerva half turned toward the exit lifts.

"I just have to return this to the records room. Give me three minutes?"

"I will wait right here."

The women agreed to embrace the anonymity afforded by London and found a pleasant restaurant in the theatre district. Catching up over dinner was enjoyable and comforting. It had been ten years since they had been together as teacher and student, and four years since they had last seen each other at Hermione's wedding.

The waiter hadn't even delivered their meals before they had resumed their easy camaraderie from their years in Hogwarts. By dessert, they had burned through ten years of selective retrospection and touched a bit into mutual reminiscence. When the check arrived, Hermione became bereft at the idea of leaving Minerva.

"I've had such a wonderful evening, Minerva; I don't want it to end."

"No one said it has to." Minerva allowed with an enticing grin.

Hermione once again considered her options. "I'm home alone tonight," she suggested. "Would you like to come to mine for a nightcap?"

"I would be delighted."

Hermione held the front door and followed Minerva through. Foregoing the bright overhead lights, she moved stealthily through the rooms, lighting a few side lamps. She politely directed Minerva to the loo before heading straight to her well-stocked bar. When Minerva returned to the sitting room she was greeted with a double pour of Oban whisky. By the third whisky, Hermione had reached the point of confession.

"You didn't ask why I'm alone tonight."

"I did not think it mattered." Minerva caught the slight lift of Hermione's chin and assented to the unspoken challenge. "Why are you alone?"

"I kicked Ron out."

"Did you? And why, pray tell?"

"He was cheating on me. For five months."

"I see."

Hermione topped off their glasses and sat back into the couch with her glass nestled against her chest. "I think he may be my greatest relationship disaster."

"We have all had our share."

Hermione began to giggle. "Do you remember mine?"

"Your what?"

"My romantic failures." Before Minerva could respond, Hermione began her list. "Do you remember Viktor Krum?"

"The young man from Durmstrang?"

"Yeah. He was my first official date."

"The tri-wizard ball, if I am correct."

"Yeah. You remember. Your mind is not at all feeble, so don't try to play that with me."

The amused indulgent smile that tugged at Minerva's lips compelled a face-splitting grin to spread across Hermione's visage.

Minerva's lips were obscured by the rocks glass when she asked, "Was he your first love?"

"No." Hermione quickly denied, her head shake exaggerated from the drink. "Can you guess who my first crush was?"

"At school?"

"Yes."

"Oliver Wood?"

"The quidditch player?" Hermione asked aghast. "Gods, no."

"Was it a student?"

"Nope."

"It couldn't have been Severus."

"No, it absolutely could not have been him." Hermione denied in horror.

Minerva chuckled at the vehemence of the reply. Squinting in concentration she guessed, "Was it Hagrid?"

The peals of laughter lasted far longer than expected. Finally getting herself under control, Hermione gave in. "It was Professor Lockhart."

"It bloody well was not." Minerva's surly reply only made Hermione start giggling again.

"I know, right? It didn't last very long before I realized what a buffoon he was. But he was certainly handsome."

"I suppose."

"What about yours?"

"Excuse me?" Minerva hedged.

"You said it yourself; everybody has had their share of romantic failures, so who were yours."

"Oh, no. We are not discussing my history."

"Come on, Min, tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"Absolutely not."

Hermione leaned forward and placed her glass on the coffee table. Grinning at Minerva she pushed, "Pretty please?"

"No."

Hermione rolled onto her knees and crawled across the couch, closing the distance between them. "Even if I beg?"

"Mmm mmn." Minerva refused.

Hermione grabbed Minerva's hand with both of hers and pleaded melodramatically, "Pleeeease, Minerva, please tell me."

"I won't."

Hermione placed a kiss on Minerva's knuckles before leaning in too close. "I shared mine…tell me yours," she whispered.

Minerva's eyes had locked onto Hermione's lips as the younger woman beseeched her to divulge her secrets. Her breath turned into a gasp as her brain screamed a warning. "Hermio…"

Ice-chilled lips slid together, warming quickly as the women fell into a heated kiss. Hermione shifted and threw a leg over Minerva's lap, holding the older woman trapped between strong thighs. In the time lapse of their kiss, Minerva's hair was released from its usual severe bun and fell loosely past her shoulders, Hermione's blouse had been untucked and half undone, and warm hands had snaked under Minerva's jumper to release her bra clasp.

"Oh, gods, we need to stop, Hermione."

"No, we don't." Hermione trailed her lips across Minerva's jaw and began to explore the throbbing pulse along a gracile neck.

"Hermione." Minerva moaned breathlessly.

"You were my first." Hermione's damp lips whispered against the shell of Minerva's ear.

"What?"

"My first." Hermione readily explained as she palmed soft flesh under the jumper and sucked the skin under an ear. "My first love."

"Oh, oh no…"

The fading glow of the moon clung desperately to entwined bodies laid out across the rumpled bed as the encroaching sun began to push it from the sky. Skin dampened by sweat and shared tears had cooled in the early morning chill that crept in after the death of the fire. Hermione's body blanketed Minerva, keeping the woman warm as she recovered from her exhaustion. Returning to consciousness with a hum of contentment, Hermione raised her head to find emerald green eyes watching her intently.

"Hey. You ok?" Hermione's whispered question seemed to explode in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

"I am conflicted."

"Please, don't be. I never want to feel guilt or remorse for this."

"I agree, but, 'this' can never happen again."

Hermione tightened her grip and hid her face in Minerva's neck. "We could…"

"No, Hermione, we could not. You must think of Rose. And, despite what we shared, you must make your peace one way or the other with Ronald."

"He doesn't need to know about this. He gave up his right."

"That may be. However, you need to decide what you are going to do. And I cannot be a factor in that decision."

"But I lo…"

"Hush. Do not utter those words. We have this. And, this is all we can have. Don't make it harder."

"Can we…?"

"We need to stay away from each other." Minerva's lips pressed against Hermione's, gentling the sting of her words. "I think this evening has proven that we are too combustible together," she smiled softly through her heartbreak. "To be honest, I do not believe I have the fortitude to deny you if I am in your presence."

Hermione grinned through her tears at Minerva's attempt at levity. Raising her head up once more, she found Minerva's lips and sank into a lingering kiss that expressed love, loss, and heartache. Minerva instinctively responded, trailing nails along Hermione's spine and wrapping long legs around Hermione's hips, pulling the younger woman into her body. They moved slowly together, feeding the embers of their passion and stoking the fire into a slow burn. Their shared climax proved to be a dissipation of emotion, leaving them both bereft of happiness.

"Do you want a shower before you go?" Hermione offered into the stillness.

"Aye, if you don't mind."

"Of course not." Hermione rolled off the side of the bed and summoned two dressing gowns. "I'm going to make some coffee. Shall I make you one to go?"

Minerva sat up and eyed Hermione carefully. "That might be best."

Handing a gown to Minerva, Hermione stepped back to distance herself from temptation. "Normally I'd offer to shower with you, but…"

"Probably not advisable."

"Right. Ok…well, I'll go. See you in a few."

Hermione sat wrapped in a blanket, rocking in the chair and humming a soft tune. The moon and stars held her gaze, guiding her mind back in time. The wisps of memories still displayed the bright vivid colors of the night she lost her heart. A single tear dropped from her eyelashes eliciting a burble of frustration from the baby held against her breast when it dripped onto his forehead.

At three months of age, Hugo was both a blessing and a curse. He would forever be her child and her love, but he would also forever be the embodiment of makeup sex and Hermione's forfeited chance of true love.

FIN