Yes I know, I'm a bad, bad fanfic writer who doesn't update stories often enough. Please accept this oneshot as an apology. Love you guys!

Leave it to Hermione to have accidentally discovered a quick, albeit awkward and uncomfortable, way to master an Animagis form. It started in her second year – with Polyjuice Potion mistakenly mixed with cat hair. Minerva stared out over the piles of rubble before her, remembering.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva looked up to see Hermione Granger lingering after class. She was a fourth year now, and with Harry involved in the Triwizard events, the brains of the Golden trio was often on her own these days. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, how does one go about registering as an Animagis at the Ministry?" the girl has asked quietly.

Minerva had dropped her quill. She knew instantly that Hermione would not ask without it applying to her. "You've managed an Animagis form?"

Hermione shrugged. "It was an accident. After last year with the Polyjuice Potion, I started waking up some mornings in a cat form. I've finally managed to get control of the transformation, so I figured that I should officially register."

Minerva had been stunned to say the least. It was unheard of to manage an Animagis form as a third year. When the Marauders had done it to be able to keep Remus Lupin company during the full moons, they'd been hailed as prodigies when doing it in their fifth year.

And that had been where it began. Minerva's curiosity had compelled her to invite the girl to evening lessons so that they could talk about exactly how this had happened, and how the botched Polyjuice Potion had been a contributing factor. Minerva had even hoped to get a paper out of it. What she actually got out of those meetings was far more…difficult.

What began as Animagis discussions during Hermione's third year had become general Transfiguration discussions in her fourth year. By the girl's fifth year, Hermione was giving Minerva a run for her money in Transfiguration applied dueling, and by her sixth year, Hermione had surprised her Professor by applying for a level two Transfiguration mastery over the Christmas holiday, and becoming the youngest person to achieve such distinction in history.

During Hermione's seventh year, she had been on the run with Harry and Ronald, and the reality of the situation had hit Minerva like a ton of rocks as she'd contemplated the young woman's absence sometime around Christmas. Reality: Minerva missed Hermione, and not in the casual, 'oh I hope she's doing alright' kind of way. It was more of the 'it's killing me not to know if she's safe' kind of way. Not a good feeling.

It had happened somewhere between the first cup of tea in which Minerva had been in awe of the young witch's accomplishment, and the last cup of tea they'd shared at the end of Hermione's sixth year in which Minerva had noticed that Hermione seemed at unease about something. Somewhere between those two days, Minerva had fallen in love with Hermione. She could not nail down when exactly was 'the moment', but she knew it was a rather difficult reality to face. It was quite doubtful that Hermione felt any such feelings toward Minerva. And then there was, of course, the 'one or both of us could not survive this war' bit of things.

Granted, that last excuse seemed a bit less valid now – an hour before, Harry Potter had killed Voldemort. Many people were killed and injured, but the war had now turned drastically in their favor. Minerva was a seasoned enough war veteran to know that the war would not be considered over until Voldemort's remaining lieutenants where rounded up and tossed into Azkaban. But today, there was real hope.

"Professor?"

Minerva turned to see Harry Potter standing beside her. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Hermione said to give this to you," he said, handing her a bit of parchment.

Minerva did her best not to smile to brightly. Until this moment, she had not known if Hermione had survived. "Thank you, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded, and turned and left. Minerva opened the folded note and sighed contentedly simply seeing the familiar handwriting.

Minerva,

We need to talk. Meet me in your chambers as soon as you can get away. I'll be waiting.

Hermione

Minerva raised her eyebrows. Point one, Hermione had never called her by her given name. Point two, Hermione had never ordered her to do anything. Point three…need to talk? About what?

Curious nature be damned, Minerva thought as she started to make her way toward her personal quarters, deep in thought about what Hermione might wish to discuss. On one hand, Minerva felt inclined to march in the door and give the young woman a dressing down for ordering her around like this, but on the other hand…if Hermione was demanded equality between them, then perhaps there was a chance for…something more.

Minerva took a deep breath and opened the door to her rooms. "Hermione?" she called.

"Hello, Minerva," the young woman replied quietly.

Minerva's gaze followed the voice, and found Hermione sitting on her desk. Not in the chair…but on the desk. Minerva gulped, pushing the fantasy forming in her head away. "I'm glad to see you're well," she replied. "I've missed you."

Hermione smiled. "I've missed you as well. But the question we both must ask is 'how much?'?"

"How much?" Minerva questioned.

"How much we've missed each other," Hermione explained, sliding off the desk and walking slowly toward the older woman. "And what that might mean…for us."

Minerva felt her heart beat increase. "Hermione?" she squeaked.

By now, Hermione was inches away from her. "I realized something while I was on the run, and I suspect that you realized something this year, too."

Minerva cleared her throat. If this wasn't Hermione making a pass at her, she had no idea what it was. Fine, Minerva thought. Two can play that game. "And what is it exactly that you suspect I may have realized?" she said clearly, willing her pulse to desist it's pounding.

"Something important," Hermione punted. "Life altering."

Minerva put her finger on finger on Hermione's lip, as if to silence her. "Like a secret?" she asked. "Or something that we might have to announce to the world?"

Minerva grinned triumphantly as Hermione's body shuddered. "I suppose that would depend," the younger woman said.

"On?"

Hermione grabbed Minerva's wrist and guided Minerva's hand from her lips down the trial of her jawbone, neck, and rested it on the skin between her breasts. "Oh how long it takes you to get a clue."

Minerva smirked. "And what if I said I have no idea what you're going on about?"

"I might have to punish you for lying," Hermione smiled.

"Punish away, then," Minerva said, and it took all of half a second for Hermione's lips to reach hers.

It was an electrifying kiss. Want bottled up for who knows how long on either side came out with a rush. Arms wrapped around each other, not feeling the need to go any further than kissing, both finally realizing what it meant to be home.

"I love you," Minerva said, looking deeply into the younger woman's eyes. "I have for a while now, longer than it is exactly proper to have felt like that toward you."

Hermione smiled; a knowing look in her eyes. "Likewise," she said. "But no one decides who they are meant to fall in love with."

"If I had a choice, I'd still choose you," Minerva admitted.

Hermione laughed. "Again, likewise."

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