The sun isn't shining, was Hermione's first thought as she stood in the giant doorway of Hogwarts' front entrance, haloed by a dense smoke still rising from the partially gutted Entrance Hall. She stared at the looming sky, the smell of rain just discernible over fire, ash and death as she picked her way along the path, her thoughts jagged, her body sore.

She'd slipped away from the Weasley's, a squeeze to Ron's shoulder allowing him to not have to worry about her, too. They were a show of solidarity, even now, as they silently grieved, comforting each other without words. It only served to make Hermione feel more solitary, their love weighing as heavily on her soul as the cloying blackness still mugging the castle. She couldn't pinpoint her feelings, which left her usually organised brain even more fraught, her nerves frayed. She didn't want to feel lonely, yet she couldn't be around people. People, for now, meant having to analyse, to count. Looking at George meant looking for Fred. If that was Parvati, then where was Padma? Being in the castle meant her whole life flashing before her eyes, and the last few hours of darting flashes of green and screaming children playing on a loop in every corner. There was nowhere left inside to hide from it.

Her pace quickened as the smoking ruins of Hagrid's Hut invaded her vision, the booming of explosions causing her to cover her ears as she began to run. She ran and ran, tears streaming until, lungs burning, she stopped and screamed. Birds flew from the trees, cawing, as Hermione's voice echoed over the grounds. When her voice cracked, she fell to her knees, hands clawing at the rubble, throwing stones and rocks, ignoring the pain in her hands. Sweat gathering on her forehead, she stumbled to her feet, hands shaking as she held them out, earth and stone rising as it gathered pace into a raging hurricane. She wanted everything to shatter, to see the outside world explode into a million spiky shards to match her own. Instead, with a final scream, the debris flew through the air and crashed into a nearby tree, thumping to the ground in time with Hermione's sobs.

She stared vacantly for long moments, before wiping her hand over her brow and along her trousers, not caring what they were covered in anymore.

Her hand closed over the lump in her pocket, and she pulled out her mokeskin bag, remembered stuffing it in her pocket when the strap broke in a physical scrap with a Slytherin. She saw the green and silver as it loomed over her, stealing her breath. Diving into the bag, she rummaged for a while until her hand closed around the neck of a bottle. It was one of the many things she'd packed that they hadn't used on the run, and though she'd intended it for medical use, now she swiftly unscrewed the cap and took a hearty swallow, coughing at the unexpected burn.

Scarcely caring where she ended up, she found herself negotiating the steps down towards the boathouse. At the harbour, she slid down the cool rock wall and brought her knees up to her chest, staring at the lone boat rocking gently in the ripples from the Black Lake. She had thought that silence would help; that to get away from everything would rid her mind of the noise, at least, but it increased tenfold with nothing else to distract her. She tried to stifle a sob with another long swig from the bottle, welcoming the burn this time. She let her head fall back, finding a jagged piece of rock. She dragged her head along it, resisting the urge to pull away. Pain was welcome; it was here, now, and real. She laughed cruelly at herself, falling apart here, just outside of this ramshackle building. Her laugh turned into another sob, and she held the bottle between her knees as she swiped viciously at her eyes.

"Best to leave it out, dear,"

Hermione jumped at the unexpected voice, reflexes mastered over the past few months meaning her wand was palmed before she'd even registered who the person was.

"Easy, Miss Granger,"

Hermione squinted as her eyes focused on Minerva McGonagall, sliding down the wall next to her. She let out a breath, allowing her wand to rest next to her, and her hands to once again clasp the bottle. Hermione shifted her head to the side to get a better look at the other witch. Though bruised, dirtied and dishevelled, Hermione couldn't contain the relief that flooded through her at seeing the venerable woman alive, in one piece.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," she breathed. She didn't blush as Minerva quirked her eyebrows.

"And that fine Scotch you're ruining has obviously gone to your head," Minerva quipped, unjamming the bottle from between Hermione's knees, and replacing it with one produced from under her own arm, half filled with clear liquid.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, a modicum of surprise lacing her tone.

Minerva smiled ruefully.

"Much the same as you, I expect." She sighed when that met with Hermione's expectant silence. "Trying to forget, and making myself remember. Drinking too much and caring too little. Or, if you were looking for a literal answer - swapping my tasteless Vodka for your much more refined beverage."

Hermione eyed the bottle as she brought it to her lips.

"You seem to have done alright with it so far. And tasteless is good."

Minerva mm'ed.

"All it shall bring is regret and a headache, regardless of the taste."

Hermione shrugged. "Then why are you doing it?"

Minerva closed her eyes momentarily, but biting her lip, she quickly opened them again.

"Because there's nothing else I can do. Not today."

The sat silently, each lost in their own thoughts, both taking comfort from the steady breathing of the other. Clouds seemed to gather over the castle, making it impossible now to differentiate between them and the rising smoke. Minerva resolutely kept her vision anywhere but the skyline. She focused on Hermione as she gave a ragged sigh.

"It's not sunny," Hermione murmured, turning her cheek slightly so that it rested on Minerva's shoulder. Drawn to the comforting warmth seeping through her tattered robe, Minerva relaxed, shifted her arm so that it rested behind Hermione's neck.

"Hmm?" she questioned, her hand beginning to idly stroke Hermione's hair.

"In all the films, the war films, books, and all that. The awful things happen in the dark, or the rain, or both. Sometimes a storm just picks up for no other reason than it adds to the bleakness of battle. Then, when it's over, the sun comes out. It's an awful cliché, I know, but I was hoping if it did… I don't know. I guess I was hoping that if the sun came out now, it'd make everything… it'd make me feel normal again."

Minerva sighed and geld Hermione's head tighter to her.

"It will. And at first, you'll feel its warmth, and you'll smile. Then you'll remember, and wonder how nature can be so cruel - how can the sun blaze when everything is still in ruins? You'll wonder how on earth you can let ourself be warm and happy again when so many lives have been lost, or irrevocably changed. Guilt will creep in, and it will keep you frozen, despite the bluest of skies. You'll wish for grey and rail at the sun."

Hermione shifted and Minerva's grip loosened enough to let Hermione catch the far away look in her eyes.

"Does it ever get better?" she whispered, prepared for the answer.

Minerva weighed her words.

"We need the rain, first. That's why it rains. So that when the sun does shine, slowly, it'll seem all the brighter, and we'll all be lighter for it. Eventually."

Hermione nodded, and almost smiled when she felt the first few drops of rain on her head.

"So sayeth Professor McGonagall," she quipped, raising her bottle to the woman, and polishing it off in a couple of gulps. Minerva tipped her head and did the same. Just as they tossed their bottles aside, the clouds above opened and within seconds, the two women were drenched. Minerva was the first to gather her wits and clamber to her feet, pulling Hermione with her. They half-ran, half-stumbled into the relative shelter of the boathouse and turned to look at the torrential downpour in awe.

"You're shivering," Hermione noted, turning in the grip that Minerva had on her arm and the back of her jacket. Seeing the woman fully for the first time, Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes raked over every inch of Minerva's body, from her completely disintegrated bun down, examining every tear in material for a wound underneath. Not satisfied, she began to peel Minerva's robe away from her, until Minerva's hands tightened on her forearms. Hermione looked up to meet questioning eyes, and she slowly raised her hand to pull away strands of hair from Minerva's cheek and wipe away the dirt and blood that was trickling from her forehead with the sheer amount of rain dripping from her hair.

"You're ok?"

Understanding, Minerva shifted and shucked her outer robe to the floor. Indicating her torso, clad in a sensible if slightly damp vest and trousers, she answered, "Nothing a warmer soak than this won't cure,"

She smiled as Hermione's face relaxed, and the brunette gingerly moved closer, twining shaking hands behind Minerva's neck. Gently, she pulled, until Minerva, too, brought her hands unsteadily around Hermione's waist and held her gently.

Hermione breathed deeply, trying to get her emotions under control.

"I think I'm still terrified," she breathed, scrunching her eyes tight as she committed the smell of rain, mingled with Minerva's neck, to memory, trying to burn away the stench of death that had clung to her for hours.

Minerva squeezed her tightly, before pulling back and forcing Hermione to meet her eyes.

"The bravest, wisest people often are after battle," she responded. "And you, Hermione, are one of the bravest and wisest there is."

Hermione let out a shaky breath.

"You never answered my question,"

Minerva frowned.

"Which one?"

"Does it get better?"

Minerva sighed, stroking Hermione's cheek.

"For a while, nothing will seem like it will ever get better. Then, you start waking up and things are… different. Different things start coming together, and before you know it, it's not the same as it has been for days, or weeks, or even months. We all have our demons, and that won't change. But they stop needling us at every opportunity, and that… that is better."

Hermione nodded.

"Thank you, for being honest."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Minerva's cheek, lingering for moments longer than she knew was appropriate, even in her inebriation. Pulling back, she saw the faint glimmer on Minerva's face before the woman tried to retreat behind a semblance of her former self. Minerva's hand came to her cheek again, and with one finger, she guided Hermione's sopping chunk of hair behind her ears. Hermione held her hand in place, and guided her lips towards Minerva's palm. She felt Minerva's pulse jump beneath her fingers. The rain changed direction and showered them through the unglazed windows and doors. As the sky rumbled, Hermione pressed forward, placing the hint of a kiss on Minerva's lips. She pulled back slightly, nose-to-red-nose with Minerva. They searched each others eyes for what seemed like an age, until the sky crashed again, the rain swept through the boathouse, and Minerva captured Hermione's lips with her own.

They stumbled backwards until Hermione hit the wall of the boathouse, wrenching her lips away from Minerva's, gasping. Minerva's mouth immediately sought Hermione's neck as her head fell back, nipping and licking. She fumbled with the zip of Hermione's jacket until, frustrated, she pulled back and pinned Hermione with almost feral green eyes. Hermione got the message and shrugged her jacket to the floor, yanked her t-shirt and bra off and threw them aside, panting as Minerva also raised her arms to divest herself of her vest.

Minerva placed her hands on the wall, inches above Hermione's head.

"God, I need you," she almost growled, face merely a breath away from the other woman. Hermione's eyes dropped between Minerva's eyes and lips, hands shaking as she brought them to Minerva's breasts, still clad in a by now almost see-through white lace.

"I… I need you, too."

Minerva didn't hesitate as she captured Hermione's lips, devouring her mouth and causing Hermione's hands to fall uselessly at her side. She moaned and writhed as Minerva's mouth journeyed along her jaw and neck, and both their knees almost buckled when Minerva took her breast in her mouth, sucking it, hard, then flicking at her nipple. Hermione's mouth fell open and her hands fisted Minerva's hair as the witch continued to lavish attention on her breasts, causing sensations she had never before experienced low in her belly.

"Oh, God!" she cried, and Minerva hissed as Hermione scratched at her neck and shoulders, urging her on. Minerva dropped to her knees and immediately peeled Hermione's jeans and knickers down. Hermione kicked them to one side, after fumbling with her shoes, and Minerva cupped her thighs, staring, awestruck, at the sight in front of her. She reverently kissed Hermione's stomach, before trailing lower, dipping her tongue into the grooves of Hermione's pelvis. Hermione arched, her hands once again finding leverage in Minerva's hair.

Deep, almost black orbs pierced her own, and she pushed Minerva's temples with her thumbs, gently.

"Please,"

Minerva kissed and licked each thigh, until her own need and Hermione's keening pushed her to the edge, and she flattened her tongue against Hermione's slit and licked, soft and long. Hermione almost bent over double until her breathing got the sensations under control. She shifted her legs, and Minerva draped her calf over her shoulder, holding her firmly by the hips as her tongue firmly entered Hermione, drawing out the copious moisture she found there and laving it all over Hermione's cunt.

Hermione's mouth fell open in a silent scream, until Minerva's tongue flicked once, softly over her clit, and Hermione's hips bucked hard enough to almost throw Minerva away and she gasped, repeatedly. Minerva paused in her ministrations and watched, fascinated, as Hermione became wetter, her thighs beginning to tremble.

"Please!" Hermione choked, urging Minerva's head closer to where she wanted it. "Please, don't stop."

Minerva raised her tongue to circle Hermione's clit, swiping over it in random patterns. Hermione's hips gyrated, trying to find a rhythm . She cried out, her back arching as Minerva's tongue drove her to the edge of her sanity, making her forget everything but the ache spreading from between her legs all through her body. Minerva used her tongue to enter Hermione once again, relishing the different taste as Hermione's arousal had built. She could feel her inner walls fluttering as she pushed her tongue as far as she could, in, out, in, out, until she gave in to Hermione's cries and pressed her tongue against her clit before flicking it, fast with the tip of her tongue. Hermione's hips jerked, her thighs clenched quickly and rhythmically around Minerva's head. Her head fell back and she chanted mindlessly to the rafters as Minerva rolled her tongue ceaselessly, hitting the right spot time and time again. Hermione was forced to clamp her eyes shut as she held on to Minerva's head, blood pounding in her ears, struggling for breath as waves of ecstasy rolled through her. Minerva's tongue held on, guiding her through her orgasm, and bringing her back to reality. She could feel her desire building again as Minerva's tongue licked softly around her clit and her thighs.

Hermione's hands untangled from Minerva's hair and pulled at her neck.

"Come up here," she managed, quite breathlessly.

"Nnh. Want more," Minerva mumbled, not pausing in her ministrations.

Hermione almost let Minerva continue, but the need to touch the other woman was overwhelming, and Minerva eventually gave in and kissed her way back up Hermione's body.

Their lips met, Hermione groaning and the slippery wetness of both Minerva and herself that she found there. She cupped Minerva's breasts roughly through their fabric, causing Minerva to rip away her lips to moan. Garnering her strength, Hermione pushed away from the wall and reversed their positions, pushing herself flush to Minerva's body.

"I need to see you," she panted into Minerva's ear, sending goosebumps down Minerva's arms. Minerva forced her eyes open.

"You don't have to… do that," her ragged voice belied her words. Hermione answered by pulling down the straps to Minerva's bra and pinning her with a molten gaze.

"I want to… I need to."

Not waiting for Minerva to move, Hermione forced her bra down to her waist, and pulled it down her legs along with her trousers. She fumbled with Minerva's shoes, until Minerva creased her brow and waved her hand, and her remaining clothes vanished.

Hermione smiled as she captured Minerva's lips once again, losing herself in the sensation of feeling Minerva's naked body against her own, her nipples pebbling in her palms.

The rain swept in sheets through the open doors. Hermione's hands slid easily over Minerva's body, stopping at her hips and pulling them tight towards her. Their thighs slid until they were between each others, both gasping as wetness met firm muscles. They moved slowly together, Hermione nipping at Minerva's shoulder as her right hand continued to caress her breast. Hermione trailed nips and bites back to Minerva's mouth, meeting her tongue forcefully. Minerva pulled Hermione's bum so that they meshed harder together, but eventually ripped her lips away from Hermione's, groaning. Hermione shifted her legs and let her hand drop to Minerva's pubic bone, where she massaged, gingerly heading lower.

"What do you want?" she whispered in Minerva's ear. "Tell me… show me."

Minerva shivered and moaned as Hermione's timbre, then her words travelled through her.

"Hermione," she rasped, lacing her fingers with Hermione's. Their hands travelled towards Minerva's cunt, Hermione's knees quivering at the heat and wetness she found there. Minerva pressed Hermione's hand against her lips, then let her hand fall as Hermione twitched her fingers and electric shot through Minerva's body.

Hermione's fingers slipped easily passed Minerva's lips. Her head fell again onto Minerva's shoulder as she slid through Minerva's heat for the first time, exploring all the contours until Minerva was writhing.

"Please," Minerva pushed herself into Hermione. "Please, I need you."

"Show me," Hermione insisted.

Minerva kissed Hermione thoroughly as she retook her hand and, fingers on top of Hermione's, guided her to her aching clit. She rubbed Hermione's middle finger along the side of her clit, alternating between pressing hard and swiping softly, until they were both keening into each others mouths. Hermione pulled their hands away, eliciting a frustrated moan from Minerva, which was immediately changed when Hermione, fascinated by the stickiness coating their hands, brought Minerva's fingers to her mouth. Minerva's hips bucked, searching for contact as Hermione sucked each of her digits before placing Minerva's hand on her breast. Hermione arched into the contact as Minerva automatically began to massage it, spreading her wetness over and around Hermione's nipple. Before she got too lost in Minerva's ministrations, she brought her hand back to Minerva's clit and resumed the rhythm Minerva had set, gasping as she felt how swollen Minerva had become. Minerva lifted up her leg, hooking it around Hermione's waist, searching for leverage.

"More," Minerva panted, "Please, faster!"

Hermione complied, bringing another finger to rest on Minerva's clit and flicking hard and fast. Minerva cried out, her leg pulling Hermione even closer to her.

"There?" Hermione asked, drowning in Minerva's facial expressions.

"Yes! God, yes! There! Yes!"

Hermione felt Minerva's stomach flutter, and an ache began to grow in her own. No sooner than she began longing for more, Minerva's movements changed.

"Inside!" Minerva commanded, her voice and eyes turned to molten lava. "Go inside, I need you inside!"

Hermione immediately thrust two fingers inside Minerva, momentarily stilling any movements from the older witch. She breathed deeply as she adjusted to the new, almost overwhelming sensation of being buried inside Minerva, before she began to slowly thrust her fingers, pressing at Minerva's walls as she moved.

Minerva cried out, her hands grabbing Hermione's shoulders in a vice, her eyes rolling.

Hermione sped up her thrusts along with the jerking of Minerva's hips, squeezing her own thighs together.

"Oh, fuck!" Minerva ground out, and Hermione's legs almost went from underneath her at the sound. "Fuck… there... Yes… Herm… oh, Jesus fucking Christ, yes!"

Minerva kept up her nonsensical cries. Hermione easily slipped another finger inside Minerva, and manoeuvred her thumb over Minerva's clit, pressing hard with every thrust.

Minerva's eyes opened wide, her breath caught in her throat as she drowned in the feelings coursing through her, and the flushed, sticky body glued to her own. Her hips jerked, the "oh's" ripped from her throat almost involuntarily. Hermione kept up her rhythm as best she could as Minerva's walls swelled up and her movements became erratic. She moaned, long and loud along with Minerva as a gush of wetness spread from her fingers, down over her entire hand. Unable to stop herself any longer, Hermione squeezed her thighs harder and shook as her orgasm rippled through her. She collapsed forward onto Minerva, her hand still buried inside her.

"Did you…?" Minerva drawled, opening her eyes lazily.

Hermione nodded.

"I didn't even touch you."

Hermione smiled, lifting her head up to drink in the sight before her.

"I didn't need you to touch me. Look at you… my God, I could come just from looking at you, never mind touching you. You're amazing."

Minerva shook her head, then mustered some energy to capture Hermione's lips.

"You're amazing."

They kissed languidly, until Hermione gingerly flexed her fingers. Minerva immediately arched, inhaling sharply.

"Hermione, I don't think I can…"

The small twitching of her stomach belied her words. Hermione allowed all emotion to pour into her eyes as she stared into Minerva's. With her free hand, she held Minerva's, and trailed it slowly down her own body until she pushed Minerva's fingers inside, where she was already throbbing again.

"Try," Hermione whispered, as they began to move together.

And Minerva did.

Minerva blinked slowly, trying to gather her bearings. It was dark and gloomy, but Minerva knew it wasn't yet night. She groaned as she stretched, aching from battle and…

She stilled, turning her head, dread filling her as she took in the sight of Hermione, sprawled on the hastily conjured blanket next to her. The immediate jolt of arousal was dampened as guilt coursed through her. She rose to her feet, wand in hand as she hastily conjured her clothes and waved her hair up. Her inclination to flee back to what remained of the castle was strong, but she hesitated as her fingers unconsciously traced her lips, her neck. As if sensing the shift in the balance of the environment, Hermione stirred, her eyes opening blearily.

"What… Minerva?"

Minerva sighed, rubbing her hand over her face.

"I must return to the castle," Minerva said. "People will have noticed my absence by now."

Hermione sat up, noting the way Minerva averted her eyes.

"Me too, I suppose."

She stumbled to her feet, fighting a wave of nausea.

"Ugh, I don't want to touch alcohol again for a while."

Minerva smiled tightly.

"I told you all it will bring is regret and a headache."

Hermione paused, then continued to pull on her clothes, a drying charm already in place.

"I have the headache," she replied, cautiously. "And you?"

Minerva finally turned to face the other woman, her expression tinged with sadness.

"I shouldn't have done what I did."

Hermione tried to control the shaking she felt inside.

"You regret it."

"I wanted to forget, everything. You were here, we had both been drinking, and I took advantage of that. That's what I regret."

Hermione shook her head.

"If you are guilty of taking advantage, then so am I. Nothing happened that neither of us didn't want."

Minerva sighed again.

"Things happen in the heat of the moment; in the relief and terror and adrenalin that follows battle. I am sorry, that it happened with me."

Hermione shook her head more emphatically.

"No. No, you do not get to do this. I know my own mind, and you do not get to dismiss it now, just because you're sober and on your high and bloody mighty horse."

Minerva turned to leave.

"I didn't fuck you, just because you were here,"

Minerva froze.

"I didn't fuck you," Hermione added quietly. "And I don't think it was just a quick release fuck for you, either."

Minerva flinched at how crass Hermione sounded. She turned back around, her heart breaking at the sight of the woman standing defiantly before her, trying to keep the fear out of her eyes.

"No, you're right, it wasn't," Before Hermione could let out her breath, Minerva continued. "But when you look back, it'll be nothing more. When you are living your life to the full with people who can give you everything, you may look back on a fond memory of a time out of place. Not a "quick fuck". But yet, nothing more by then, either."

Hermione tried to bite her lip against the forming tears.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, don't leave me. I can't do this!"

Minerva caved and pulled Hermione towards her, holding her as tightly as she could.

"And that's why I can't stay," she breathed, kissing Hermione's head. She pulled back to stroke her cheek. "Things will be different now, disjointed for a while. I'll be your anchor, but I'll weigh you down, in the end, and instead of happiness, there'll be bitterness at what you could have had, could have done, if only I had let you go. So that's what I'm doing."

Hermione held Minerva's hand to her cheek.

"I don't have enough fight left," she sobbed.

Minerva smiled, gently pulling her hand away.

"Then don't fight me. Save it for going to capture your life."

With a last look, Minerva headed briskly for the boathouse steps, and forced herself not to look back at Hermione, where she stood, statuesque, for a long time, surrounded by the memories of broken dreams. The heavens opened, and it poured.

AN: There was a prompt a while back, given by MegaNerdAlert in the HG/MM fan club Facebook group. It went as follows:

The day after the battle of Hogwarts, it downpours. Minerva and Hermione both happen to be down in the Boathouse by the lake when the rain starts. They also had both gone down there with a bottle of the alcohol of their choice, each hoping to drink in solitude. On top of getting drunk, the two witches end up finding other means of comfort.

I was hit by inspiration, which has been somewhat lacking of late, so I hope this is ok. There will be another chapter.