Shorter chapter, but an update is an update and it ended in a place I was happy with. Enjoy!

"Once more you prove to be the exception to the rule, Professor Granger."

Hermione growled at Antony's voice, knowing damn well what he was up to, but opting to pretend that she hadn't the foggiest. "Professor Ross. What can I help you with?"

"Oh, nothing," he said. "I was just bringing to your attention that the evidence mounts in my favor. She's never told anyone, you know? Not Dumbledore, not any of her other lovers over the years. Granted, I'm fairly sure that was greatly because my father insisted on the secrecy. Still, she tells you the truth that has been a family secret since the fateful day of my conception."

"Who your mother decides to confide in is not something I have a whole lot of control over," Hermione snapped. "And honestly, Antony, what exactly is your problem? I've never done anything to you, nor been unkind to anyone you care for."

"Just because you're nice doesn't automatically assume everyone will want to be your friend," he countered.

"I realize that," she said. "But generally speaking there's a level of civility that should exist between you and me, firstly because we are coworkers and are owed a certain level of respect professionally, and secondly because you know I'm a friend of Minerva's and out of respect for her, we ought to at least manage to be amicable."

"I can't argue the first point, which is why I do not confront you in front of the other staff, nor in front of students," Antony replied, "but if I were to be friendly to every friend of one of my parents, then I'd have been having high tea with the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback."

"I don't think the so-called friendship between Severus and the other Death Eaters was genuine," she shot back. "Though point of interest at the time of your birth, he'd have honestly considered them to be friends, so it begs to question who your godparents are."

Antony rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised Mother hasn't already said."

"I haven't asked."

"Well that just explains everything," he scoffed. "Because at this point, I don't think there's anything you could ask her that she wouldn't readily answer."

"I'm still puzzled as to why this sets you in a tizzy. We're friends," Hermione tried to reason, "and that's how friendship works. Friends are honest with one another."

"I do hope that's not the only basis you have for friendship," he said slyly, "as by that definition, you and I might be considered friends. We never have beat around the bush, you and I."

"And I wouldn't have a problem with being your friend," she countered, noting the surprise on his face. "You're intelligent, well spoken, and despite being a bit of an arse, your wit is refreshing to me. So like your father, in that regard, and I do miss having that in my life."

"You miss my father?" he asked, stunned at the notion. "Everyone, especially Gryffindors, hated him."

"I can't begin to express how many times I had to fake a cough to cover a laugh when he'd say something in response to an example of idiocy. Unlike many others, I never doubted his loyalty to the cause, and I mourned his death. I regret not having the time to form a true friendship with him, like I've been able to do with Minerva," she admitted. Merlin save her if Harry ever heard about this confession.

"Even Mother doubted him," Antony admitted softly, looking sad. "When you and Potter and Weasley came back to the castle that night, before the battle, and the two of them dueled… I was in France with August at the time, but she told me that she'd never been more conflicted in her life. She wanted to believe he was loyal, but she had enough doubts to treat him like an enemy. How did you never doubt him?"

She smiled tenderly as she thought back. "When I was in fifth year, and Umbridge was here, I'd been doing rounds one evening close to Christmas, and I saw him in a corridor, handing off a healing potion to a couple of House Elves, and directing them to see to it that any student who'd had detention with Umbridge receive some of it. He treated the Elves with a kindness I'd never seen him treat anyone, and I realized in that moment that if he had that much respect for a creature that most wizards and witches treat with, at best inconsideration, and at worse abuse, then there was no way possible that he could truly be loyal to the likes of Voldemort."

Antony just stared at her for a moment, and then turned and stormed off without a word, robes swishing so much like his father's that Hermione had to let out a giggle. She really did feel a bit daft for not realizing they were father and son before. While August showed a tenderness that made it easy to see that he was the scion of Minerva McGonagall, Antony was absolutely the son of Severus Snape, only slightly less practiced in the art of hiding his emotions.

Given that, clearly, her conversation with Antony had come to an end, Hermione continued on her way.

She supposed she wasn't all that surprised that, after wandering about per her usual evening rounds, her feet led her to Minerva's quarters. They were friends, after all, and who didn't enjoy having a cuppa with a dear friend before calling it a night? The butterflies in Hermione's stomach had absolutely nothing to do with anything. Nope, they didn't mean a thing.

"Good evening," Minerva greeted after letting her in, smiling softly. "How was your day?"

"Every troublemaker that I run into is greeted by the thought of at least Harry hasn't had children yet. It's sad, but I can't help but compare the antics of students today with what I know Harry got himself into," she admitted.

The older woman laughed at that. "I threatened to retire a number of times during your, Harry, and Ronald's tenure as students here. I understand. And I'm determined to retire before such a time as there are Potters in these halls once more."

"Oh, Harry wasn't that bad!"

"Alone, no. But with your help?" Minerva bantered. "Merlin, Hermione, was it entirely necessary to enable Harry's tendency to find trouble?"

She blushed. "I only helped when his life was in danger, which was often, and I was not the cause of him being in that situation. It's completely unfair to associate me with him in that manner."

"Life often is unfair, my dear. And scary."

"Speaking of scared," Hermione said, recalling her earlier conversation with Antony, "I believe I may have scared your elder son a bit this evening."

"How'd you manage that?" Minerva asked, curious.

"I told him I liked Severus, and never doubted him," she replied. "I may have also insinuated that I'd not be opposed to being friends with him."

The admission was met with barking laughter. "Oh yes, you very likely scared him to death. Antony, much like his father, has never been able to understand that some people appreciate a sharp wit. It's a shame you aren't interested in men. You and Antony would actually be very well suited to one another, and I wouldn't complain if I had to see you for family functions in addition to seeing you at work."

Hermione's nose wrinkled. "Why would you even suggest that? In light of his suspicions about you and me that's unbelievably awkward to even consider!"

"I'd suggest it for the simple sake of seeing that look on your face," Minerva teased. "Truly, it's adorable."

"Antony thinks, I'd imagine, you'd much prefer to see me flat on my back beneath you," she bit back, blushing once she realized what she'd said. "Um…"

Mirth still danced in Minerva's eyes. "He'd likely be right. I say this as platonically as possible, but you are a beautiful woman and any fool wouldn't be attracted to you on at least some level. If not for physicality, your intelligence, wit, and kind-heartedness are all alluring qualities."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that, so she offered a noncommittal grunt of disbelief.

"Drink your tea, my dear," Minerva suggested, trying and failing to hide a grin.

If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd be beginning to suspect that the older witch got a thrill out of backing her into awkward corners. She was certainly doing it with regularity these days. Fair was fair, however, so Hermione decided to push back. "In any case, why would I look twice at Antony when you're right in front of me? He may be a decent specimen of the male figure, but you turn the heads of everyone, male and female, without even trying."

Minerva did not blush, rather grinning slyly. "Who says I don't try?"

"If you do try, you make it appear effortless," she responded. "Do tell, what is the secret to being timeless?"

"I think it's about surrounding yourself with the right people," the other woman said thoughtfully. "If I only socially see those with taste, then statistics assume they would all see the obvious. If I, on the other hand, spent time with people who couldn't see past the end of their own noses, then the odds shift."

"Sure of yourself, are you?"

"Certainly not to the point of arrogance," Minerva replied. "Though with age comes self confidence, and I like to think I'm sure enough of my own merits to be confident in my own skin. Merlin knows, however, I do have flaws."

Hermione laughed at that. "What flaws? An overzealousness with your red quill?"

Minerva's demeanor shifted slightly. "I'm too proud, and I don't easily trust. I'm pants at asking for anyone's help, even if I know how much I need it. I've got a short temper, and a flirtatious nature which often gets me into compromising situations, and is hardly conducive to a career as an educator."

By now, the younger woman had finished her tea, and stood to take her leave. Before she did, however, she walked over to Minerva and touched her cheek. "Is that what we've been doing this evening? Flirting?"

Minerva leaned into the touch. "Probably, though it doesn't have to mean anything."

Hermione nodded, completely understanding how perfectly normal it was for two friends to have a flirty banter and how, as Minerva stated, it didn't necessarily mean anything. She had a similar dynamic with Harry. However, Harry and Minerva were two different people, and - damn it all - she wasn't attracted to Harry, and was attracted to Minerva. The self admission hit her like a kick in the gut, guilt turning about over how she'd been so quick to dismiss Antony's observations.

"No," she agreed. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

With that said, she pressed a light kiss to Minerva's forehead, whispered a goodnight, and left. While not a blatant advance on her part, it had been an advance, and Minerva was smart enough to see that. The questions now on the table were whether or not Minerva was likewise attracted, if she was going to initiate a continuation of the conversation they'd just had, and whether or not the attraction was something either of them were prepared to act on. The thought alone was a risk to their friendship, and no matter how much she might want to have more than friendship with the beautiful Scottish witch, she wasn't sure how prepared she was to risk losing her for trying to have more than enough. And friendship was enough.

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