Hermione looked at her friend for a moment, his words turning over and over in her head. 'Go and talk to her. She's a reasonable woman Hermione, she'll listen to you. Nodding once, she turned sharply and left the room as quickly as she had entered.

Behind her, Harry shook his head and turned back to the practice dummy.

The walk to Minerva's office was not a short one, generally, but with each step she took, Hermione became increasingly angrier. A small part of her understood where Minerva was coming from, and it warmed her heart greatly to know that she would give up teaching, something she loved, for her. But the rest of her wanted nothing more than to shake the woman until she realized that Hermione wasn't uncomfortable in her presence, but ashamed of her actions. So, without any thought to what she was going to say to the Headmistress, she stalked into the woman's office and slammed the letter down on her desk, startling the ebony haired witch.

"What is this?" She growled, leaning over the desk.

Heart beating wildly from being startled, and from being in such close proximity to her heart's desire, Minerva took a few moments to answer her. "That is an…offer."

Hermione scoffed and straightened up. "It is a stupid offer. You love teaching."

"Yes, but what I love even more is when my students can look me in the eye and feel comfortable around me." She sighed, looking away from the young woman.

All the anger washed away at the defeated slump of the proud woman's shoulders. "Oh Minerva," Hermione sighed, falling into the chair in front of the large desk.

Resting her chin on her hand, Minerva looked out the window, determined to keep the tears at bay. "I-" Her voiced cracked.

Taking a steadying breath, she forced back her emotions and looked at the girl who sat, watching her closely. "I am deeply sorry for what I did Hermione. I don't know what-"

"What you did?" Hermione cut in, frowning.

"For…kissing you." Minerva whispered, looking down at her tightly folded hands in her lap.

"You didn't kiss me."

Head snapping up, Minerva looked at her wide eyes. "You're denying it?" She asked, her heart breaking. With the way she had reacted to the kiss initially, Minerva thought that she had some sort of chance, but if she was denying it…

"I'm not denying anything. You did not, kiss me." She held up her hand when she went to argue. "I kissed you."

Minerva frowned. "That is beside the point; you can't even look at me. You are clearly uncomfortable around me."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione groaned. "Am I not looking at you right now? Am I not perfectly comfortable in your presence now?"

"Well yes," She answered, sitting up straight, "But you couldn't look at me when you answered. Hermione, you don't even acknowledge me when we run into each other in the halls anymore."

"Yes, but not because you make me uncomfortable!" She shouted, standing up.

"Then why?" Minerva asked, looking up at the woman with tears in her eyes.

Seeing the tears pooling, Hermione dropped her head and mumbled. "Because I thought you would hate me."

"Oh Hermione," Minerva sighed, standing up, "I could never hate you." She said softly as she walked around her desk. "I could never." She whispered, pulling her into a tight hug.

Later that night found the two women sitting in front of the fire in Minerva's private quarters, once more drinking tea. But this time, they were sitting much closer together. Neither spoke, for all had been said after their embrace in McGonagall's office. Having reluctantly admitting her growing feelings to the Headmistress, and she quietly confessing her own, they had moved to rooms beyond the office for tea. While both were certain of their feelings, they agreed to keep things professional until the young Gryffindor graduated.

Hermione explained to Minerva about Harry knowing almost everything, and stated that she would not keep what had happened between them that night to herself. Surprisingly enough, Minerva agreed, having already suspected that Harry had had a hand in Hermione's coming to her so soon after receiving her letter.

The clock sitting behind the many photos on the mantle chimed, but neither witch moved, too lost in their own thoughts to realize that it was past curfew.

In the common room, Harry sat in front of the fire nursing a mug of hot chocolate. Although they weren't supposed to have drinks in the tower, it was well known that McGonagall would look the other way if caught. So Harry drank happily from the cup until it was empty. As he was putting it down on the side table, the portrait opened.

"Harry."

Looking up, Harry gave a small smile to his friend. "Ron?"

The red head scuffed his shoe on the floor. "Do you know where Hermione is?"