Here's a happy little oneshot for you guys, to make up for the load of angsty ones I've been posting lately. For those of you following the cause of my angst, my "Minerva" FINALLY emailed me. I was over the bloody moon, as you can imagine. That said, she still insisted on simply pretending our argument never took place, but right now, I really don't care.

That all said, this oneshot is by no means one of my best, but it was a scene in my head that turned into something that I thought was nice. Enjoy!

To say Minerva McGonagall was shocked when Hermione Granger, her twenty five year old former student, showed up at her quarters at Hogwarts and kissed her full on the lips in greeting, was an understatement. The aroma of heavy liquor lingered on the young woman's breath, giving some clue as to what had just happened. "Miss Granger," she said shakily, "are you drunk?"

"Very," Hermione slurred out. "Enough to think that maybe I could kiss you without you holding it against me...like you might be understanding, because I'm obviously not in my right mind. But..."

"But what?" Minerva inquired, guiding the intoxicated woman into her quarters and closing the door behind them. Awkward as this was, she respected Hermione too much to leave her out there for someone who might take advantage of her intoxicated state to find.

"Wanna know secret, Minerva?" Hermione whispered excitedly.

Minerva stared at her, unsure of how to respond to the girl's usage of her given name. That was a first, for sure. "My dear..."

She had been about to suggest Hermione stand still long enough for Minerva to hand her a Sober-Up potion, but the young woman's patience had apparently run out. For the second time in the space of five minutes, Hermione's lips crashed forward and met Minerva's with a moan. "I love you," she murmured, before collapsing in the older witch's grasp and passing out cold.

The Headmistress took a moment to ponder before deciding it would be best to return Hermione to her flat in London, so she could sleep it off in her own bed and were Minerva very lucky, where she would awaken with no memory of ever coming to Hogwarts this evening. Hermione certainly seemed drunk enough to black out her actions - that is, to black out coming here and snogging her former professor. If she had ever done something like this to Albus she would hope not to remember the event.

It didn't occur to Minerva, at least until a few days later, that she had never felt for Albus what Hermione had just admitted to feeling for her.

...

Hermione, as was her custom in this particular situation, forgot to breathe when Minerva McGonagall walked into the bar she worked at. This had been going on for a few months now - the Headmistress of Hogwarts showing up on a Saturday evening at the muggle bar Hermione tended part time. The young muggleborn witch wondered if this was this night she'd find the nerve to ask why her former professor seemed to be stalking her.

The esteemed Headmistress looked nothing like a highly respected member of wizarding society when she came in here, dressed like that. Black leather pants hugged every curve on the woman's lower half, from hip to ankle. Black leather boots, knee high and rather high heeled gave Minerva a look both classy and dangerous, especially when coupled with the form fitting button down shirt, likewise black. The older woman's emerald green eyes were positively glowing while framed with wisps of long, ebony hair and alabaster skin. If Hermione had not already been in love with Minerva, seeing her like this would have sent her falling over her feet. If Harry and Ron were here right now, they would probably be creaming their pants. As is as, Hermione could feel liquid beginning to pool between her thighs.

"Glass of brandy, please," Minerva stated, taking the seat closest to where Hermione had been standing.

"Of course, Headmistress," Hermione replied quietly, turning to grab the Scottish blend of brandy she'd special ordered for her new regular.

"You can call me by my name, you know," Minerva commented. "You have done so before."

Hermione stiffened. Only a few weeks before Minerva had begun coming here, Hermione had a dream about going to Hogwarts and kissing Minerva. She had been almost positive that had been a dream, though the doubt had been there in the morning, wondering if she had really gotten drunk enough to go there and do that. "Humm," she muttered non-committedly.

"Do you remember anything about coming to Hogwarts to see me three months ago?" Minerva asked, after taking a large swig of her drink.

Bugger. "I…a bit."

"A bit?"

"I wasn't sure if I'd dreamed…" Hermione found herself confessing, leaning on the bar and glancing at the clock. Her shift was over in just under half an hour, and then she could turn tail and run away from this infuriating woman. What on earth did Minerva hope to gain by calling her out on a drunken mistake?

"You thought you dreamed showing up at the school, to my personal chambers, at two in the morning," Minerva said, amusement in her tone as she leaned closer to Hermione. "And kissing me?"

Hermione blushed furiously. "What of it?" she snapped. "Are you looking for an apology? Because I'll tell you right now, Minerva McGonagall, I will not be apologizing for expressing how I feel, because I am most certainly not sorry for loving you."

The young woman was flushed with anger at the nerve of the woman in front of her. Coming to her place of work – a job she depended on to help work her way through the muggle degree her parents had begged her to get – and dressed like a bloody minx…

"Good," Minerva said.

Hermione stared. Good? "Excuse me? If you're not looking for an apology, then all due respect but why the hell have you been basically stalking me?"

The older woman shrugged. "Well, the short version is that I am studying your potential."

"Potential?"

"As a lover," Minerva stated, smiling softly.

Hermione dropped the glass she'd been drying, and it hit the ground with a crash. "Are you…are you saying….that…that…you…?"

"That I'm attracted to you?" the older woman inquired. "Well yes, I think I am. I was a bit stunned to find out that you were attracted to me, but I'm not so daft as to turn down a beautiful woman…if she's sober and willing."

Hermione glanced at the clock again. "I get off in fifteen minutes. Meet me at my apartment and we'll finish this discussion there," she stated, mouth dry.

"I'm not looking for a fling," Minerva whispered, standing.

"Nor am I," Hermione said, touching the older woman's hand lightly.

…

Minerva waited patiently for Hermione to arrive, taking the time to think about how she'd gone from shocked that Hermione would do such a thing as presuming to kiss her, and wishing on a now hourly basis that she'd do it again. The drunken encounter three months ago had ignited a kinetic attraction – Minerva simply couldn't stay away. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how well suited Hermione was for her. It had been nearly ten years now, since Amelia had died, and Merlin knew it would be nice to have Albus no longer nagging her about her lack of personal life, if she and Hermione entered into a relationship. Minerva had taken the time to consider, and decided that she did want to explore the idea of being with Hermione. The only question left was if Hermione truly felt how she had said she did, or if it had been a drunken mistake. Minerva hoped it was the former.

With a loud pop Hermione apparated into view, only a few feet from where Minerva had been standing. "Hi," she murmured. "Let's get inside, alright?"

Minerva smiled, and with a nod followed Hermione into the younger witch's apartment. Once inside, Hermione gestured to a couch, and with a flick of her wand a hot pot of tea appeared on the coffee table. "So, Hermione," the older woman started. "How long have you…?"

"Loved you?" Hermione asked. "Forever. Well, I mean, you were the first person that I realized I was attracted to. The first person to invade my dreams. The first person that I cried over. Remember my fifth year, when that awful woman, Umbridge, was there?"

"How could I forget her?" Minerva groaned.

"Well there was that day when she was inspecting your class," Hermione said. "And you put her in her place when she wouldn't stop interrupting, and you told her that you didn't allow others to speak when you were speaking to your class…"

Minerva smirked at memory.

"I loved you then," Hermione confessed. "I remember thinking that so few people could knock me down a peg if I needed it, and I knew that you could, and that's the kind of person I'd need as a romantic partner in life. It was a matter of hours later when I realized that you suited me in a way no one I had ever met could. A few days after that, I cried myself to sleep when I realized that I had just fallen in love with someone that I could never have."

Minerva chuckled. "I thought it may have been around then – I started to notice you acting differently toward me, then. You'd always reached out to me up to that point, trying to engage in conversations outside of class. But then suddenly, you just didn't anymore."

"Well until a half hour ago I thought it would be in my best interest to not be near you," Hermione huffed. She reached out and softly took Minerva's hand. "What changed, for you?"

"Well you bloody kissing me like that was certainly a large contributing factor," the older witch snickered. "Otherwise, it was a matter of me thinking over what you meant to me, and how obvious it is to every single one of my friends that we would be suited to each other. I had been telling Filius what you did, and his response was '…and you didn't take her to bed?'"

Hermione sniggered. "I always suspected him to be the blunt sort among his friends."

"He is that."

"So where do you go from here?" Hermione pressed.

Minerva smiled. "Well, we could start with you kissing me again. It seems pretty pointless to pretend our relationship is going in any other direction than a romantic one."

"How very Prince Charming of you, Minerva," the younger woman said, smiling softly and leaning in to do just that.

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