Another Story

Chapter Seven

In which everyone acts impulsively

Hermione tried to shake off her distress and worry as she walked back to the Gryffindor common room from Professor McGonagall's chambers, from which the professor was still conspicuously absent. She did not think about that for long, turning her attention rather to Severus' request that she patch things up with Ron Weasley. If he had asked her to brew a complicated potion or find an obscure text in the library, she would have begun the task with zeal. But what Severus had asked of her was very difficult, not only because she was still a little peeved at Ron, but because he could hold a grudge longer than anyone she had ever known. And he was very good at giving someone the silent treatment too. Hermione wondered as she spoke the password and stepped into the common room if Severus had any idea what he was asking her to accomplish.

"Of course he does, and he is probably right. All of us will need each other before this is over," she thought, glimpsing Ron and Harry in a quiet corner playing chess.

Harry looked up from the board and smiled when he saw Hermione standing near the common room entrance. She nodded toward Ron. Harry regarded her almost coolly for a moment, glancing at Ron who was stooped low over the chess board in concentration. She could have sworn that he knew exactly what she wanted as he nodded toward an empty chair across the room.

She watched as Harry very methodically lost the game. Ron was grinning like a Cheshire cat when it was over. She heard Harry say something about playing Exploding Snap next and having to get something from their dormitory first. Ron nodded in agreement and leaned back in his chair to take another satisfied look at the board. Harry looked toward Hermione and jerked his head toward the empty chair. That was her cue.

Hermione took a deep breath as she left the comfortable chair by the hearth where she had been waiting and walked over to the seat that Harry had vacated for her. This was not going to be easy.

She sat down quietly, and Ron looked up from the chess pieces. For a moment he was smiling, then his face fell as he realized that it wasn't Harry who had just taken a seat.

"Ron, I think we should talk," she said quietly.

"Do you now? Got something to say now, have you?" he said coldly.

"Please, I just want to say that I'm sorry ..." she began to tell him.

Ron flushed a bright crimson as he angrily said, "A bit late, isn't it? Or did your new boyfriend dump you? Trying to put everything right again? Well, it just isn't that easy."

"Ron, stop being childish. I am trying to apologize to you," said Hermione in a quiet hiss as other students in the common room began looking in their direction.

"So now I'm childish too? That's just fine," he said, raising his voice as he noticed her discomfort.

"Please ..." she started to say, flushing with a mixture of frustrated anger and embarrassment.

Ron slid his chair back and came to his feet.

"We've got nothing to say to each other, Hermione," he told her, looking down at her before walking away.

She buried her face in her hands as she listened to him tramp up the stairs to the boys' seventh year dormitory. He was so unreasonable. Or else had she wounded him that deeply? Hermione wasn't certain. With Ron's temper it was never exactly easy to say whether the slight had been that severe or whether it was merely the more unpleasant aspect of his personality showing through. In any event the quest that Severus had sent her upon seemed impossible. She left her seat with a sigh to return to her own dormitory to do some reading in private and perhaps to go bed a bit early.

Harry was waiting for Ron at the top of the stairs, blocking the entrance to the room they shared with the other young men of their year, except Neville, who was a prefect and had his own room. Harry slowly shook his head as he looked at his best friend, who was still red in the face from his fight with Hermione. Having overheard the two of them, Harry was not pleased. In his opinion Ron was just being stubborn and unreasonable. He knew that both of them had said things to each other that they did not mean, and since Hermione was willing to swallow her pride and say that she was sorry, Ron should do the same. They had all been friends too long for something like this to come between them.

"Ron, you are being a complete and utter prat. Go back and tell her that you're sorry too," said Harry.

"Or what you'll do what about it exactly?" asked Ron, who was still half a head taller than his friend, almost menacingly.

"I don't make threats. Idle or otherwise. Don't you see how silly you're being, Ron?"

"She says I'm childish, and now you're saying I'm silly. This is just perfect," said Ron, shaking his head. "Get out of the way, Harry. I want to go lie down or something."

"All right. I will ... if you promise to tell me what's really the matter," said Harry.

Ron looked at him for a moment and then glanced back down the stairs before answering, "Fair enough, but you can't tell her about it."

"Good," said Harry with a nod, opening the door and gesturing for Ron to step inside.

The dormitory was empty, despite the rather late hour. Most of their contemporaries were involved in a rather heated game of Gobstones or testing samples of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Harry closed the door and observed Ron as he went to stand by the window. He thought he knew what Ron was going to say, but he wanted to hear it for himself to be certain.

"I was already in love with her before Viktor Krum came along, did you know that?" Ron asked him, glancing over his shoulder as Harry took a seat on his bed.

"Yeah, I remember," said Harry with a quiet chuckle.

"Then Krum gets himself killed."

"I remember that too."

"I was wrong about that bloke. I admitted it a hundred times, to her, to you, to myself. And she really loved him, didn't she?"

Ron was looking at him expectantly, as though he thought Harry knew the real answer to that question.

"Krum, I guess, was her first love," Harry nodded.

"Well, she was mine," said Ron softly. "But I couldn't very well tell her that right after he bloody went and died, now could I?"

"No, I suppose not ..."

"Right, so I waited. I just never knew when the right time would be."

"Maybe there never is a right time, Ron."

"I believe it. She's gone what? Three days ... with Snape? And comes back head over heels for him? Knowing what he is and what he's capable of and everything? Harry, it just doesn't make any sense," said Ron almost plaintively.

"So that's what this is all about. You're jealous," said Harry, nodding as his suspicions were confirmed. He didn't feel like debating Snape's character at the moment since it wasn't the real issue.

"Maybe I am."

"And you're taking it all out on Hermione. Not very fair, is it?"

"I suppose you think that she's being perfectly fair then," said Ron shortly.

"She's in love with him, Ron."

"Harry, you've never really been in love yourself before, have you? I mean, you fancied Cho Chang a bit, but ..."

"Maybe not," shrugged Harry before Ron could continue.

"So you've got no right to say."

"Maybe I don't exactly, but she is our friend, and if you really love her, you've got even less right to treat her like this when she has a chance of being happy."

"Harry ..."

"You know I'm right," he said, looking Ron straight in the eye.

Ron shook his head and said, "I don't know, Harry. Maybe you are and maybe you aren't. But after what she said ..."

"You knew that bringing Krum into that argument was stupid and selfish," Harry shot back almost instantly.

Ron flushed red for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"So are you going to accept her apology and apologize to her?" Harry questioned.

"I'll ... I'll give it a try, but not tonight. You know me better than anyone. If I went back down there, my temper ..."

"Of course," Harry agreed, feeling very relieved that Ron was starting to behave sensibly.

"But I still don't like Hermione seeing him."

"You don't have to, Ron."

~

Minerva looked up into the night sky and sighed softly into the cool air, shivering ever-so-slightly. A warm arm slipped around her shoulders. She leaned closer to the source of the comfort and warmth, but kept her eyes upon the gently twinkling stars. They were very beautiful, especially looking at them from the serene and romantic top of the Astronomy Tower. A soft chuckle in her ear made her smile.

"What ever is it, Albus?" she questioned, turning her head and looking into his blue eyes, which were every bit as twinkling as the stars.

She had always loved his eyes. They were almost always full of hope, laughter, and a little mischief. Those eyes had made her feel so safe and so much more confident in her youth. Then as an adult she had always found more strength in them than in any words ever uttered to her. Now she saw love in them too. And it was a love so powerful and deep that it nearly took her breath away.

"I imagined that we would have had to chase more than a few students out of here to have this place to ourselves after-hours. It's rather odd that it should be vacant tonight," he commented.

"I don't know, Albus. I think the students have found more creative places to rendezvous these days," she said.

"We are a bit old-fashioned, aren't we?" he chuckled softly.

"Perhaps," she conceded, slipping her arm around him too as a chilly late spring breeze blew around them. For a moment she considered that perhaps it was the cold that was keeping the young witches and wizards indoors.

"It seems very peaceful up here, doesn't it, Minerva?" he asked after a quiet moment.

"Yes," she agreed, watching a wisp of cloud pass over the waning moon.

"Minerva, I have something I want to ask you," said Albus, taking a deep breath.

Her heart fluttered for a moment. She knew that he had asked her up to the tower as something of a date. Unless the rather revealing conversation in her rooms the previous evening was also counted as such, this was their first, though to be fair it didn't feel like it. It felt as though it were merely the continuation of something they had had a long time ago and not something completely new. And it felt right.

"Yes, Albus?" she prompted.

"This is rather sudden, but I was wondering, if we both make it through this war ..."

"Don't talk like that. It's morbid," Minerva scolded quietly as she shivered slightly.

Albus pulled her closer and lifted her chin so that she would look at him. Her dark eyes were filled with a startled sort of sadness. It was the look of a woman who knew that war was coming, that war was upon them, raging everywhere around them, and could at any moment claim those that she loved and held dear. He smiled softly and nodded.

"All right. We talk about the war and death enough in the course of our preparations and our work. We can leave the latter portion of that out of this," he agreed.

"Thank you," she said as the emotion faded from her eyes, leaving her looking only somewhat tired and a bit stern, as was usual for Professor McGonagall, especially since the beginning of the war.

"As I was saying, if the end of the war permits it ..." and here he looked to her for approval. Minerva merely nodded slightly and indicated that he should continue. "Would you, Minerva McGonagall, consider ... becoming my wife?"

She just stared at him for a moment, her mind suddenly feeling like an out of control Bludger as memories of all the years that she had loved him in secret whisked through her brain. All of the years that she had thought her feelings were merely a school girl's unrequited fascination with a handsome and caring professor. All the years as colleagues who worked side by side, sharing plentiful laughter in the good times and even a few tears in the bad times. All the long years of close friendship ... and unspoken, undeclared love.

"This is quite sudden," she said breathlessly. "But then, I mean, we have known each other a long time," said Minerva, shaking her head to clear it.

"Yes, a very long time indeed," he concurred, looking expectantly into her wide eyes.

"Albus, are you sure? Or are you just saying this to give me something to look forward to? To cheer me up? I know I haven't exactly been at my best lately morale-wise, but if you're just saying this ..." she began quickly.

He touched her lips gently to silence her.

"Minerva, have you ever known me to be insincere?" he questioned almost sternly.

"No," she answered, an odd lump forming in her throat.

"You are my best friend, Minerva, and have been since you were sixteen years old. I am not asking this out of mere caprice. I am asking you because I love you and because at long last, the time seems right," he explained, echoing her own feelings regarding their finally blossoming relationship.

"Yes, I think I understand that," she said, acknowledging the last part of his statement and trying to blink away her tears.

"Then, if it is not the height of impertinence, I will ask you that question again. Minerva, would you marry me?"

"Yes," she replied, managing a teary-eyed smile.

"Then I suppose a kiss is order," he said, leaning toward Minerva and drawing her closer into his arms.

Minerva closed her eyes as they truly kissed for the first time in many years. For a moment she felt young again, younger and more alive than she had since the war had begun. And it was wonderful. She was more certain than she had ever been, and Minerva had always been quite certain, that she loved Albus, even if until recently she had been equally certain that he would never know and that he could never love her in return, at least not as anything more than a close friend. But his kiss told her that she had been wrong, quite wrong.

Over the years Albus had toyed with the idea of kissing her spontaneously, but knew that prim and stern Minerva McGonagall would not have reacted at all positively to that. And he was too much of a gentleman to try such a thing anyway, even knowing what he knew about that day in late April of her sixth year. He wanted to make up for those years, which had not truly been lost because they had always been together, but might have been better, sweeter, if things had been different.

"I love you, Minerva," he whispered as he pulled away.

"I know," she replied. "And ... I love you too, Albus," she said, wrapping her arms around him and wishing that the moment would never end.

They stood there in silence together as time seemed to stand still around them.

"Albus, why did you ask me tonight?" she questioned, resting her head against his chest and looking up into his eyes, which were fixed upon the bright moon over her shoulder.

"The pace of the war has quickened. Something told me that this might be the last night of peace we have before the end of it all. As I said, the time seemed right. Perhaps not the most romantic if reasons. Does that disappoint you, Minerva?"

"No, it's just that it was rather sudden," she shrugged.

"Oh, yes, I couldn't agree more."

"But then ... once you put your mind to something ..." Minerva chuckled.

Albus was about to reply when they heard the sound of quiet voices echoing up the stairwell that led down from the tower. Students' voices, Minerva guessed, pursing her lips slightly. Albus merely chuckled and drew his wand. He pointed it at the closed door behind them and uttered a quiet repelling spell.

"That should do it. I fully intend to keep this place to ourselves until we decide to leave," he told her, tucking the wand away.

The voices reached the door. Minerva, whose hearing was rather good, caught a few words. It seemed that one of the two, who sounded suspiciously like Neville Longbottom, suddenly remembered that he had an essay due in charms' class and had to get back to his dormitory. The female voice that followed reminded Minerva of Lavender Brown. She pursed her lips. It was certainly not their night to patrol the corridors.

"Gryffindor prefects out after hours without permission! I should have a word with them," she said, but didn't budge an inch.

"Well, if they manage to get back to the tower without being caught, it will save Gryffindor House a few points," he said.

"More than a few. They should know better."

"Don't let it spoil the moment, Minerva," said Albus quietly, touching her hair.

"I won't," she said, smiling.

"You should wear your hair down again. It was always very fetching, you know," he told her.

"It was always getting in the way," she said as he began letting her hair down for her.

Minerva didn't protest. She found the gesture rather touching. It had been many years since she had worn her hair any other way. Albus ran his fingers through her hair and smiled in satisfaction as the wind blew it away from her face.

"Quite lovely. As always," he said.

"You remember why I started wearing up, don't you?" she questioned.

"Oh, yes, one could hardly forget a twenty-five-year-old witch with - what color was it? - brilliant pink hair racing through the dungeons. I was very lucky to have witnessed that," he said with a distinct twinkle in his eyes that nothing could mask.

"It was the only time I ever substituted for Professor Krohn," she defended.

"You accidentally dipped your hair in a cauldron of Harold Potter's mystery solution, didn't you?"

"That boy ..." she said, shaking her head almost fondly. "And the two that have come after him ... no different," Minerva sighed.

"Well, let us hope that this one, that Harry, is a little different," he said, the laughter fading from his voice as he stepped toward the parapet and leaned against it.

"Yes," she agreed, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Soon then?"

"Very soon, if I may rely on Severus' assessment of the situation, and I believe that I may."

"Of course," she said softly.

"Voldemort will be coming himself this time. Severus has not said as much, but I can sense that for myself. He comes for Harry and perhaps for me. This will be my last great task. Then, if we are successful, perhaps then I may rest ..."

"Albus ..." said Minerva in a quick and cautionary tone.

"My dear?" he asked, turning to look at her with his piercing blue eyes.

She was suddenly aware of how heavy the burden that he bore truly was and wished in vain to share it with him, to ease the load, but knowing that it was not her place, not yet, no matter the amount of love between them. She squeezed his shoulder and tried to smile.

"Perhaps we should go inside. It's becoming chilly, and very late," she said.

"Yes, of course," Albus agreed, smiling and offering her his arm.

She studied him for a moment before taking it and following him back inside the castle.