Minerva entered the staff room and almost immediately turned around.
"No!" Rolanda called. "No, Poppy, grab her!"
Poppy didn't dare, but she and Minerva stared at each other for a short time before her easy smile won Minerva over.
"Fine," she muttered. "I want it noted that this is under protest."
Poppy slid her arm around Minerva's and drew her back to the little table.
"Well noted, love," Poppy chuckled. "Let Ro cajole you into celebrating."
"It's only because you love her," Minerva grumbled.
"Something I am thankful for every damn day, Min," Rolanda grinned. "Now come 'ere. We're going to sing so prepare yourself."
"Ro," Minerva growled. "Don't -"
"Oh come on, Minerva," Filius laughed. "Don't be a wet Chinese chomping cabbage!"
"Lettuce would have been fine," she muttered.
As a mixture of off-key but jovial voices joined in the singing and her cheeks warmed under the scrutiny, Minerva tried not to roll her eyes. They were her friends, all of whom she loved with all her heart - most of them anyway - and who had supported her wholeheartedly as she sought to revolutionise their school after the war.
It had not been easy, they'd had push back from parents, the Ministry such as it was and even other schools. Beauxbatons, in particular, had turned up their nose at her modern structures and ideas.
Quite frankly they had worked tirelessly and alone and now (and for quite a while) she was simply tired. She had watched the freedom of their lives give room for Rolanda and Poppy to reveal and explore their feelings. Filius and Pomona had welcomed four grandchildren in that time, all of whom Minerva had cuddled endlessly when she was given the opportunity.
New faces had come and a few had gone as well when they realised that it would not be the cushy assignment it seemed on the outside.
What was left was, in her opinion, a perfect core of Professors who were either loyal to the cause, or loyal to her.
Often, by the time they'd settled in, loyal to both.
As the last wobbling strains of Happy Birthday ebbed away, Minerva managed a smile as quite a few of them either patted her shoulders or in the case of Poppy and Pomona, hugged her outright.
"Alright, Min," Rolanda grinned. "Make a wish!"
"Rolanda," she said darkly.
"Don't Rolanda me! This is your birthday, you're lucky I didn't put as many candles as I could have!"
Minerva laughed despite herself at the imagined vision of the scores of candles setting fire to the drapes.
"Excellent point," she conceded. "Is this going to blow up in my face?"
"No!" Rolanda grinned. "I swear it."
"Normal candle?"
"That's what it says on the label."
Minerva squinted at her friend and leaned forward.
"Make a wish," Rolanda grinned. "Seriously."
Minerva frowned again and looked at the candle shining happily in the centre of her birthday cake. Despite her scoffing, she closed her eyes and took a moment to do as she was told. There was not much in her life and sometimes, especially when she saw Rolanda doting on Poppy or when Pomona offered Filius a bite of dinner while he was rocking a baby, she wished she had someone who craved her like they seemed to crave their partners.
She didn't need it to be a lover, necessarily, she was sure that ship had sailed long ago, but someone who could fill a lonely part of her heart would have been nice.
Perhaps that was a lover. She had been so long without, she could no longer remember. Not that she wanted a lover. There was only one person she could imagine in that role and she could never have them.
"Bloody hell, Min, what the hell are you wishing for?"
Minerva rolled her eyes and wrapped it up. She whispered the words in her mind and blew out the candle.
"Here here," they cheered as she stood again.
"You'd best cut it so we can get this over with," Minerva teased.
To ease the smarting words, she moved forward and hugged her friend. Rolanda, as she always did, held her tightly and Minerva could see Poppy enjoying this sort of thing as often as possible.
"Alright then," she chuckled as she stepped back before she cried. "Let's have it."
They spent a wonderful night, despite her grumbling, chatting and enjoying the company. The newer Professors escaped to finish their marking or do a patrol of the corridors so they did not have to, letting the Old Guard, as she rather thought of them, finish their evening without interruption.
Eventually, Minerva managed to stumble up to bed and fall into it happily.
She managed to Transfigure her inner robes into pyjamas and rolled into her pillow, too somnolent to notice that as she closed her eyes, her skin began to glow.
-0-
Hermione Granger was not usually a light sleeper. After their year of sleeping in the wilds during the war, if she was in a bed, she was asleep.
Honestly it was one of the things she most cherished after their year of desolation. It was why, when she woke in the middle of the night to a yank behind her navel, that she only really blinked and snuggled back down under the warmth that only covers of a particular weight could provide.
Had she been a lighter sleeper, she would have remembered that the only covers that could seem to be able to replicate that feeling were the ones at Hogwarts. As it was, she carried on sleeping, half-waking just enough to seek out the warmth of the other body in her bed.
That should have clued her in as well; Ron had not joined her bed since they'd split nearly six months ago and despite Ginny's cajoling and bad blind-dates, none of them had been invited back for a drink afterwards. To Ginny's face they just weren't interesting people, but when Hermione was in the shower afterwards and she had tears streaming down her face, there was a different reason that she could only ever admit to herself in the darkest reaches of her mind.
In truth, had Ginny asked her for that truth, Hermione knew she could have told her a version of it. That men did not make her turn her head, that she had no interest in the chiselled chests and tight biceps that Ginny fawned over in Hermione's best friend. What Hermione had realised was that she preferred long, sleek lines over slightly rounded hips. Musculature in slim shoulders that caught the light when she danced.
She.
Just one woman, really. One who had found Hermione after the battle and picked her up, brushed her off and held her so tightly that Hermione had started to cry against her shoulder. Long, sure fingers had slid into her hair and held her face pressed against that shoulder, where the world could not see the tears she shed.
She, who had smelled of parchments and ginger, even over the stench of death and battle.
The steady comfort that a woman Hermione had no business developing feelings for could provide. Black hair against grey stones. Deep green tartan robes that clung in all the right places and made equally emerald green eyes sparkle.
She dreamt of Minerva McGonagall so often that when she rolled over and was shocked by that other body, she did not bat an eyelid at what form it took. Instead, she snuggled closer, figuring that while her dream was tactile, she would enjoy it.
A wonderful change to the desolation of her normally deep and lonely sleep.
Her dream stirred and mumbled something, pulling her closer and wrapping her up in her arms. She went where she was told; settling with her head on a strong shoulder that she knew carried so much weight on it, but that seemed to be reserved for Hermione alone.
She slept deeper.
It was only when someone started shaking her that she woke properly. She blinked awake as someone started to utter a curse and even half-asleep, she conjured a wandless shield and leapt out of bed, bringing forth her wand and standing at the ready.
"I -" She blinked as her assailant paused. "Miss -"
"Minerva?"
They stared at each other for a long moment until Hermione put her wand away and showed her hands in surrender. Minerva seemed flustered for a moment before she too, put away her wand.
"Miss Granger -"
"Minerva," Hermione muttered with a little admonishment.
"Sorry," Minerva said genuinely. "Hermione, what are you doing here?"
"Honestly?" Hermione asked as she looked around. Her quick eyes took in a relatively comfortable bedroom with the exact furnishings she had thought would be in Minerva's bedroom; dark woods, tartan finishes and somewhat surprisingly, jet black, silk, sheets.
"That's -" She bit her lip before she could say the word sexy seeing as Minerva seemed to be waiting for something. "Sorry, what did you ask me?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Oh!" Hermione nodded as she glanced around again. "Yes, great question and I'd love to be able to answer it for you but honestly, I went to bed a little bit drunk but at home, in my bed, last night and now, here I am."
Minerva stared at her with a frown.
"Drunk?"
"I -" Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, tipsy, but it doesn't matter."
"Miss -"
"Minerva!"
"Sorry!" she said again. "Sorry. Hermione."
They seemed at an impasse and Hermione was the one that broke first.
"Min? How are you? Happy Birthday."
"Birth -"
A look came over her face and it darkened considerably. She growled, audibly, and Hermione followed her quickly as she threw open the bedroom door and she stormed into her living room.
"Min?"
Ordinarily, Hermione could imagine her flinging open the door and stepping outside, but in reality what happened was that Minerva yanked on the door, and it didn't budge. Even she was confused as she looked down at the door knob and she tried again, pulling ineffectually on it until she could do nothing but kick it. The wince when her bare feet crashed against the solid wood was one that Hermione shared and Minerva spun to glare at her.
"What have you done?"
"What have I done?" Hermione protested. "I did nothing! Someone has bloody kidnapped me, and dropped me off here with you! I didn't bloody do that myself, did I!"
Minerva went to speak but then thought the better of it as Hermione glared at her. She got a far off look in her eye and then looked back at Hermione like she was Confunded.
"I'm real," Hermione soothed.
"You'll forgive me for checking," Minerva said quietly.
"Of course," Hermione acquiesced.
"What did I tell you after the battle?"
"Before or after you told me off for leaving?" Hermione said quietly as those dark memories filled her head.
"After," Minerva whispered.
"That we had the potential to change and fix everything, if only some of us had the courage I had."
"Hello Hermione."
"Hi Min," she chuckled.
Like a dummy, Hermione stepped forward and then faltered as Minerva took a step towards the Floo. She paused and looked back at her.
"Sorry," Hermione muttered. She waved her hands, flustered. "I wasn't -"
Minerva's arms wrapped around her and pulled her into her body. For one inexplicable second, Hermione tried to both take comfort in Minerva's person, but give it instead. She wasn't sure it had worked until she went to let go, but Minerva didn't. Instead of asking what was wrong, Hermione tightened her arms and tucked her face into Minerva's neck and they stood there, silently, until she felt Minerva stand up again.
"Sorry," she muttered. "I am glad to see you, despite the circumstances."
"I know," Hermione grinned. "Me as well. Any idea what's going on?"
"A small idea," she muttered. A very pretty blush coloured her cheeks and she went to the Floo.
Hermione watched as she knelt on the ground and pushed her hair off her shoulder. Hermione looked up sharply when Minerva bent over and stuck her head in the flames.
"POPPY!"
Hermione desperately tried not to look as Minerva spoke angrily with someone on the other end while her backside was up in the air. Her hands gesticulated wildly and Hermione, honestly, could not help but get a little short of breath. Minerva's passion was so very beautiful at times - as long as it wasn't directed at you, that is.
Minerva got up with a groan and glared when Hermione stepped forward to help her. Redirected, Hermione went to the sofa and sat down. Minerva would need time to think, assuming she knew what was wrong, and Hermione knew that. She sat back and sighed as she closed her eyes and waited for that to occur. It didn't last long. Minerva paced back and forth, sometimes pausing and looking over at Hermione with troubled eyes, before she went back to pacing. Hermione tried to practise the meditation that Ginny had showed her, but with Minerva's endless mumbling, it was very difficult.
It got to a point where Hermione needed answers, just as Minerva did. She glanced at the clock and knew that if she didn't call Harry fairly quickly, he would have the whole Auror department out for her.
"Min," she said quietly. "Tell me what's happening?"
"I don't know."
"You have an idea, though. Why am I here and why can you, we, not leave your rooms?"
Minerva sighed and looked at the ceiling. Hermione was horrified to see tears gathering in her eyes.
"Min," Hermione whispered. She got up and cupped Minerva's cheek and drew Minerva's eyes back to hers. "Tell me."
"I -" She swallowed. "Rolanda, threw me a birthday party last night."
Hermione waiting for the punchline but when one was not forthcoming, she chuckled.
"Okay?" she shrugged. "So -"
"So, I knew something was off when she insisted I make a wish before I blew out the candle."
"Oh no," Hermione sighed. "What was it?"
"George sent it to her for my birthday," she almost wailed. "Told her that it was his gift to me."
"Breathe," Hermione eased as she saw Minerva's cheeks go blotchy. "Min, look at me."
Minerva's wild eyes fixed upon Hermione's and she smiled.
"Breathe, everything is okay."
"It is not okay!" Minerva protested. She pulled away and threw up her arms. "It is not. I am a prisoner in my own home with you as company."
"HEY!"
Minerva stopped and closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I am -"
"Anxious and uncomfortable and scared," Hermione chuckled. "Come here and tell me what you fear."
"I -" Minerva's hands were shaking and Hermione's heart was breaking that she was so very fearful.
"Min?" Hermione asked as she pulled her down to the sofa. "What did you wish?"
Minerva shook her head and the tears started down her face.
"Min," Hermione said quietly. A big shuddering breath made Hermione wait for just a moment before she tried again. "Minerva?" Another shake of the head. "Minerva?"
Finally, she looked up again and Hermione frowned at the terror in Minerva's eyes.
"I wished for you."
-0-
Minerva was going to be sick all over her own lap at this rate. Her insides were boiling and her heart was beating somewhere in her throat, just below the part of her throat where her gag reflex lived. She didn't dare look at Hermione, she struggled silently, over and over until something stopped her.
That hand on her face again. It simultaneously filled her with peace and with terror.
"Breathe," Hermione's soft whisper meant Minerva could do nothing but comply. "Breathe Min. It's okay."
"It's not okay, my ridiculous -"
"Minerva?" Hermione whispered. Something about her tone made Minerva look over at her.
"I didn't mean to -"
"I know," she said kindly. "I know exactly what George was doing and it's my fault, not yours."
"What?"
"George and I are friends, closer friends that you'd think. Though I love Harry and Ginny and Ron with all my heart, George and I have something in common and after your courageous honesty, it's only fair that I reveal some of my secrets and take the blame as well."
"I don't -"
"I have been struggling," Hermione said quietly. "Not in my job or anything as mundane as that, but at night after I shut the world out, that's when the tears come and won't stop."
"Hermione -"
"It's okay," she reiterated but Minerva wasn't too sure it was. Hermione's eyes had a fear in then that she hadn't seen for so long. "When Ron & I split up, I know the papers made it seem something dramatic but honestly it was just as mutual as ordering a cup of tea at a cafe. He was not the one for me and he had begun to see that. And once we were single again, I felt weird being with Harry and Ginny as often as we used to. George," she smiled and a feeling deep in Minerva's gut got red hot. "George helped me through it."
Minerva didn't mean to make the noise she did. She regretted it almost instantly, but Hermione didn't seem that bothered by it.
In fact, she outright laughed.
"Please don't worry." It vaguely occurred to Minerva that those words meant that Hermione knew something she shouldn't have. "George and I only have one thing in common and it's something we often drink over once the rabble goes home."
"What on earth do you and George have in common?"
Truthfully, at one point or another, before she had recognised what was happening in her own soul, Minerva could see that Hermione and perhaps Fred would have perhaps ended up together. Once Fred had gone, however, she had faced her own nightmares and had no room for anyone else.
"We are both pining for someone we cannot have."
Minerva's heart crumbled in her chest and she growled when a tear slipped from her ear. She went to stand by Hermione's hands, once again, made her pause.
"Don't run away," Hermione said gently. "Please stay and listen to the rest."
"I cannot -"
"You can," Hermione soothed. "I promise I will not hurt you."
Minerva snarled but Hermione was unmoved. In the face of such serene beauty, Minerva's vitriol eased a little and she sat back and folded her arms.
"Fine."
"As I said, he and I often talked vaguely about our losses. He missed Fred every single waking moment and though he has found some comfort with Angelina, there is nothing that can heal a wound of the soul."
Minerva really did shed a tear now as she thought of her boys. They had been so funny and gregarious and loving. She kept a firm grip on her sorrow but in the face of such turmoil she could not contain it all.
"Wait," Minerva suddenly sat up. "You are missing -"
"Someone that I could not have. Someone so far above me and my paltry life that it was laughable that this person might ever even think of me, let alone that she should pine for me too."
"She -"
"And George knows you. Better than I do, it seems."
"Wait -" Minerva stood up and looked down at this beautiful, young woman with such hope in her heart that she might burst. "What are you saying?"
"George did this," Hermione said gently. "Because he loves you and he loves me. And despite the way he went about it, his heart was in the right place. I was too chicken to speak to you and you are Minerva McGonagall. You would never approach a former student, no matter your feelings for them and I should have remembered that, Min. For my part in this, I am sorry. I wish," she chuckled. "I wish I had been braver."
-0-
Minerva's face was almost comical as she stared and Hermione was in two minds as to whether she should duck and cover or sit and take whatever was coming to her.
She chose the latter and folded her hands on her lap as she waited.
"You -"
Minerva shook her head, like a cat who got water in its ear. Hermione smiled at the comparison and looked up as Minerva made a noise of despair.
"I don't know -" She shook her head again. "I don't know what you're saying to me."
Hermione took a deep breath.
"Do you remember, after the battle was over. I collapsed in the hallway?"
A look of despair crossed Minerva's face and the tension fell from her arms. They dropped back to her sides with a sharp nose and she stared.
"I thought you -" She swallowed thickly. "I thought you'd been hurt or -" She pressed a hand against her stomach and Hermione knew that feeling well.
Hermione got to her feet and stood in front of Minerva. Even with Minerva as curled into herself she was a head taller and Hermione found herself enjoying looking up into her eyes. She could see the far-off look in those eyes, however, and decided to do something about it.
She reached out and took Minerva's hands.
"I didn't," she said softly. "I am right here."
The words did not settle Minerva so Hermione took it a step further. She drew Minerva's hands to her waist and stroked up her arms until the fog cleared from her pretty green eyes.
"You had blood all over you," Minerva muttered absently. "Cuts and bruises." She swallowed again. "When you turned to me -"
"You pulled me from the ground and held me so tightly." Minerva nodded. "Your hand went in my hair, do you remember?"
Minerva stared. Hermione saw the moment she realised she might be able to do that again and went gladly when the hands traced her sides, up her shoulders and into her hair. She paused with her hands on Hermione's cheeks.
"I dream of that, most nights."
"We are quite silly," Hermione chuckled as she held Minerva's hands where they were. "I can see why George thought we needed a bit of a nudge."
"A nudge! Hermione -"
"I do like you saying my name," she grinned. Minerva looked as though she'd swallowed her tongue. "Are you still scared of lil' old me?" Hermione chuckled. "After everything I've just told you?"
"I do not even know what we are -"
"I've fallen in love with you, woman." Hermione grinned as Minerva stared. "I'm just hoping that somewhere inside you, that you could find it in your heart to maybe feel -"
Hermione made a noise of surprise as Minerva pounced. Soft lips caressed hers and Minerva groaned as her fingers slid, finally, into Hermione's hair.
Hermione was on cloud nine. Her stomach was full of butterflies, her skin tingled and she realised belatedly that she could touch Minerva as well. She cautiously reached out so her hands rested just above her hips and Minerva made a noise.
She stood and blinked. Their foreheads rested against one another's.
"Say it again," Minerva whispered.
"I have fallen in love with you."
Minerva kissed her again and this time, Hermione gave as good as they got. Minerva smiled against her lips and before Hermione knew it, she was dropped gently onto Minerva's desk.
"Min," she gasped. "Wait -"
Minerva was already halfway under Hermione's shirt when she paused.
"I'm so -"
"Don't," Hermione chuckled, using her legs to wrap around Minerva's hips to keep her right where they were. Minerva's wide eyes looked down at them and traced then with her open hands.
"You can touch me," Hermione smiled. Minerva looked up sharply. "You can touch me -" She tightened her thighs and pulled Minerva closer. "Anywhere."
Minerva's breath faltered and Hermione rewarded her with a kiss.
"But not on your desk." She grinned as she got a thought. "Not initially, at least. Let's settle into this then we can discuss kinky stuff."
"Kin -" Minerva stood tall.
Hermione wondered if she'd overstepped, but she was sure she hadn't. George insisted Minerva's sense of humour was robust and just in the corner of her mouth, there was a twitch.
A wicked look signalled her words and Hermione grinned in preparation.
Minerva stepped forward so she was pressed against Hermione's front and she ran her hands around Hermione's arse. Hermione moaned as Minerva pulled her to the edge of the desk and then, hoisted her up.
Hermione threw her head back and laughed.
"When I want something like that of you, mo ghaol àlainn, you'll know about it."
Hermione laughed again as Minerva carried her towards the bedroom. Just as they got carried away at the doorway, they heard a click and both of them looked over at the front door. It sat open just a crack and Hermione's gut squelched at the thought that what they were doing was no longer strictly necessary but Minerva cupped her cheek.
"I have wept for you since I had to let you go. I will not let you go again, love. Not now I know."
Hermione grinned as she drew her wand and shut Minerva's door and then with a cheeky grin, locked it.
"Want to spend the weekend with me, then?"
"I've never wanted anything more," Minerva mumbled against her throat.
"Happy Birthday, beautiful," Hermione whispered.
Minerva laughed and kissed her softly.
"No one will ever be able to top this present. But now," she smirked. "I should start on the unwrapping."
The door closed on their laughter and somewhere down in London, in a quiet room, George Weasley smiled.