NOTICE: It's been pointed out to me in a number of reviews that I missed several pronoun changes from my original story. How embarrassing. It's unforgiveable, and I'm sorry. I do not have a beta so all mistakes are mine. This is the new and improved chapter. I do hope you don't abandon me for these errors. I will strive to do better in future. Thanks so much for reading. This is why reviews are so important. I take each and every one to heart.

Disclaimer: It's J.K. Rowling's sandbox. I just come over to play. I make no money from this work.

A/N: Full disclosure, my previous FFNet pseudonym was TigerLily28. I pretty much stopped writing and have recently gotten the itch again, so I opened a new account and am writing under a new name. I went back and read some of those old TigerLily28 stories and this one still spoke to me, however, it was written during my awkward straight years and abandoned. I tried to pair Hermione with Lupin (shudder) I'm not sure why I'm drawn to the Hermione/Minerva pairing and the age difference freaks me out a little bit, but I can't get enough of reading them, so I'm rewriting my TigerLily28 story, Jasper, into a Hermione/Minerva fic. I am also making the storyline slightly less complicated but hopefully just as magical. Please R/R so I know if I'm on the right track.

Jasper - Chapter 1

The sound woke her from a fitful sleep. She'd fallen asleep on her sofa again, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the sheer dullness of the fifth years' History of Magic essays she had been trying diligently to grade. As much as she hated to admit it, fifth year History of Magic was about as exciting as watching flobberworms grow. Most of the curriculum is the History of the Ministry of Magic and the pointless arguments therein. She dismissed the sound. It was just a dream, she thought. The baby dreams had become more frequent and more vivid. It was not unusual for Hermione to awake with the sound of a baby's cries echoing in her mind.

She glanced at the clock which, to her despair read, "Time to finish grading essays." She sat up, and with a yawn, took up her discarded quill.

Then she heard the sound again, quieter this time, but just as clear. There was no mistaking that this was no dream. There was a baby crying in the hall outside her chambers.

Odd, she thought, there are no babies at Hogwarts. In fact, to her knowledge, none of the Hogwarts teachers had any children at all. The situation warranted an investigation, and it sure beat grading essays.

She stood and started towards the door. Immediately she noticed the absence of the warmth being away from the fire. The chill easily penetrated her loose fitting pajamas. The crimson silk covered her from ankle to wrist but didn't do much to keep out the drafty castle air. She threw the afghan she'd been wrapped in around her shoulders and tentatively left her chamber. Hearing the foreign sound of the obviously unhappy infant echo down the corridor nearly broke her heart and she headed toward the noise.

The sight that awaited her when she turned the corner charmed her to her toes. Standing with her back to the cold stone wall, cradling a squirming bundle in her arms was an exhausted looking Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

Hermione took a brief moment to bask in the vision before her. Minerva was exhausted, yes, disheveled, yes, at the end of her wits, yes, but still elegant and statuesque, her firm presence filling the narrow corridor. And with a baby tucked in her arms, Hermione thought she had never looked more beautiful.

Another sharp cry from the tiny stranger shook Hermione from her musings.

"Minerva?" she asked as she crossed to her and reached for one arm, drawing the woman's attention, cinnamon eyes met mossy green for only a second before Hermione's focus dropped to the squalling child. "Okay, I'm going to bypass all of the obvious questions and ask the most immediate one. Can I help you?" She instinctively reached out to gather the child in her arms.

Minerva didn't put up much of a fight, except to wearily say, "You don't have to do that Hermione," even as she allowed her to remove the baby from her arms.

But Hermione barely heard her. She was so wrapped up in the infant cuddled against her. Minerva could have been playing bagpipes in her altogethers and Hermione wouldn't have noticed. The baby was still squirming and crying, obviously uncomfortable. Hermione quietly drew her wand and whispered a quiet charm.
"Relaxo Pressum"

Almost immediately the child quieted, settled and within a few minutes was sleeping soundly.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Hermione reluctantly tore her adoring gaze from the baby and their eyes met even as a tear made its way slowly down her cheek. Her voice broke as she answered. "Just a simple relief charm. Colicky babies sometimes need more than a little burp. I learned it during my apprenticeship at St. Mungo's." She returned her focus to the bundle and she wiped another tear from her cheek.

"Hermione, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Minerva wanted to reach out to her, but thought better of it. Instead, she crossed the corridor and leaned against the opposite wall next to Hermione, glancing sidelong at her.

Hermione lifted her eyes to her and smiled, the happy twinkle in her eye was new. Minerva had never seen it before. "Boy or girl?" she asked simply.

"A lad" answered Minerva, "His name is Jasper."

"Jasper" Hermione breathed, returning her undivided attention to him, "Beautiful"

"Aye," agreed Minerva, unsure whether she was talking about the baby, or the woman.

She watched Hermione watching Jasper and was struck at how beautiful and natural the scene was. There she stood, wrapped in a blanket against the stone wall of a hallway in her red silk pajama pants and for a second Minerva considered telling her that one of the buttons on the matching silk shirt was undone, but decided not to disturb her. Snuggled safely in her arms was this mystery of a child, wrapped in a sea green blanket, breathing easily and sleeping peacefully. But for all the wackiness of the situation, Hermione seemed completely at home. She looked perfect. Almost ethereal.

They stood in silence for several more minutes before Hermione looked up and realized what had been going on. "Oh, Minerva, I'm sorry. I don't know why I reacted to him this way." She sniffed. "It's probably just because it's late, and I'm tired, and little Jasper here is quite a bit more interesting than the stack of essays waiting in my sitting room."

"You're very good with him," the Headmistress said quietly, "you seemed to know what was wrong before you even touched him. It was quite amazing."

"The way he was moving," she explained, "it was obvious he was in pain. But no harm done, he's fine, see?" she looked down and her eyes shimmered again. She tucked the sleeping baby gently back into Minerva's arms. "He's perfect." She finished with reverence.

"Aye, when he isna squalling." Minerva smiled, her brogue seeming more pronounced in the quiet hallway.

"Minerva, if you don't mind my asking, how on earth did an infant boy come under your care?"

There was a flash of something in her eyes. Sadness? Anger? Fear? Minerva became uncomfortable. She gently straightened up to her full height. "It's time." She said under her breath before addressing Hermione. "Come to my rooms for tea tomorrow after classes Miss Granger. Now that you've met Jasper, I believe there is no longer any reason to withhold the truth from you. In the meantime, I suggest you get some rest. The essays will hold until tomorrow, aye?"

"Miss Granger? You haven't called me Miss Granger in years. Minerva? What's going on? Why can't you tell me now?"

Minerva had gently steered Hermione back to the portrait guarding her rooms. "Tomorrow. Hermione. I promise. Get some sleep." At her door she turned to face Minerva and looked down at Jasper, still sound asleep. She swept a gentle hand across his forehead and whispered a soft "Goodnight" the tears threatening again as her eyes met Minerva's

The elder witch gave weak smile, gave the younger's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, gathered the blanket tail and made her way back down the corridor.

"Let me know if you need anything else." She said just loud enough to be heard. Her lonely voice echoed down the corridor, but Minerva didn't turn around.

Hermione entered her chambers, took her boss's advice and left the essays for later. She folded the blanket neatly on the back of the sofa and crawled into bed. She went to sleep thinking about Jasper. What is he doing here? Why is Minerva playing mum all of a sudden? Why did I react the way I did when I held him? Her questions all remained unanswered.

Jasper - Chapter 2

Hermione woke early the next morning and finished grading essays. Glad to have it done, she headed to the Great Hall. She had an hour before the second year Hufflepuffs invaded her classroom. It was a great way to start her Friday, Hufflepuffs are sweet and this particular batch were particularly inquisitive. They wanted her to teach them things, and because Ancient Chinese Dragon Lore was one of the most enjoyable units in her entire curriculum. She looked forward to getting started.

She sat down in her usual spot at the Head Table and poured a glass of pumpkin juice. She helped herself to a Belgian waffle, smothered generously with butter and maple syrup. She looked around, hoping to see that Minerva had brought Jasper to breakfast with her, but she knew that the baby was probably a secret and showing up in the Great Hall with him would be opening some sort of Pandora's Box that Minerva would just as soon avoid.

Classes went smoothly, but Hermione was anxious to get through them. She was looking forward to seeing Jasper again and whatever Minerva had to tell her was obviously very important.

She softly muttered "Ginger Newts" into the stone statue and stepped on the staircase with trepidation.

The Headmistress was sitting at her desk, writing diligently with an elegant pheasant feather quill. She'd obviously had a bit of a rough afternoon. Wisps of black hair had escaped her standard bun and a rosy flush colored her cheeks, as though whatever she was writing had her dander up.

"Good afternoon, Headmistress. I'm here for tea, as requested."

Minerva looked up briefly. "Come in Hermione. Please have a seat by the fire. I'll be with you momentarily."

"Actually, Minerva, if you don't mind, could I peek in on Jasper while I wait?"

The Headmistress's head popped up again, her eyes darkened and the flush on her cheeks deepened. "I'm sorry, Hermione, he's no longer here. He's gone back. Home."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she approached the large desk. "You're a terrible liar, Minerva. You always have been."

A slender hand drew her spectacles from her nose and the embattled Headmistress let out a deep sigh. "Actually, Miss Granger, I am an exceptional liar, except, apparently, around you. Now please. I must speak with you and it is best not done in the presence of the bairn. If you would just – "

It was that moment that a serendipitous wail echoed through the office from the private rooms beyond.

Hermione saw red and stormed toward the door leading to the inner chamber. Minerva beat her there and took her firmly by both arms, attempting to dissuade her from entering.

"No, Minerva, get your hands off me. I don't know what's going on with that baby, but it obviously has something to do with me. I refuse to ignore a crying baby, so I'm going to see to Jasper, and you're going to let me. Then, we're going to sit down and you're going to tell me everything. Excuse me." And she was off.

"Hermione." but it was no use. Hermione returned to the front room, a now happy Jasper cooing in her arms, and on her face was the same look of reverent adoration he'd seen the night before. Minerva sighed and shook her head. This was going to be hard, really, really hard.

Hermione sat in the antique wooden rocking chair in the hopes that a gentle rocking would put Jasper back to sleep. She, of course, was right. Within a few minutes the baby was snoring softly and a permanent lump had settled in Hermione's throat as she fought back tears. Why do I feel this connection to him? She asked herself for the millionth time. She knew that Minerva held the answer in that mysterious countenance, so she looked at her expectantly. "Well, Headmistress, I'm waiting. Start explaining."

Minerva shook her head, suddenly filled with anxiety. "Where to begin."

"Begin at the beginning. I need to know why you've been put in charge of him. Why did you feel the need to lie to me? And why, when I look at him do I feel like my life finally makes sense?" her voice cracked at this last question and she resumed her adoration of the sleeping child. "I know you know, Minerva, and I can stay here all night."

"Hermione, look at me." She did. "Hermione," she paused, unsure if she should actually start down this road. She knelt next to the rocking chair so she could see Jasper's face, "Jasper is your son."

Jasper - Chapter 3

The room was painfully silent, but only for a second. Almost immediately the sound of the palm of her hand landing with almost supernatural force across the Headmistress's left cheek echoed throughout the room.

SMACK!

The force of impact threw her backwards and she landed ungracefully on her arse. Hermione tore from the room. Fortunately, Jasper hadn't awoken and she was able to lay him gently in his crib before she lost complete control on the anger roiling through her.

What on earth would possess her to tell such horrible lies. To tell her something that was obviously impossible; which couldn't be true. How does one even make up something like that? That perfect infant couldn't be hers. And even if it WERE true, that baby is months old. How could this be kept from her for so long? Had she ever planned on telling her? Was Hermione just supposed to go through life never knowing that that perfect baby boy was hers? Was he hers? Could it be true?

Hermione was pacing now, wringing her hands and running them through her hair. She was muttering incoherently to herself, trying desperately to clear her thoughts, trying to make sense of each new pang of hurt threatening to overtake her.

Minerva chose that time to approach her. "Hermione." she said tentatively. She didn't hear her. "Hermione." Again no answer. "HERMIONE!" she said forcefully and she looked up into mossy green eyes. Her entire being radiated contempt.

"Please let me explain" she softened her voice now that she had her attention.

"Piss off!" she exclaimed. Minerva was taken aback. "You don't get to talk right now. How could you? I don't know what you're playing at, but if this is true and you somehow kept it from me, you deserve the Unforgivable Curse I'm about to cast on you. And if it isn't true, and you are lying - "At this she began to pull her wand from beneath her robes, "What would possess you to tell such a monstrous falsehood? What kind of twisted mind can even fabricate such a lie?" she raised her wand and pointed it at the taller woman, now standing stock still in the bedchamber. "How did you know, Minerva?" The older witch began to approach the younger hesitantly, so as not to alarm her. She was serious about hexing her into next week, and now she wasn't making sense. Know what? She continued her rant. "How could you possibly know how badly I want to be a mother? The dreams, God the constant dreams. The hollow ache, it never goes away." At this point Hermione had drawn completely into herself as though she weren't even addressing Minerva anymore. Her hands were in her hair and she was shaking her head. "To exploit something so precious, so personal? How could this be true?" By now Minerva had reached Hermione, had removed her wand from her hand without her noticing and was trying to get her attention once again. She reacted violently. She pushed her away. "Get your hands of me! Don't touch me MCGONAGALL! To let me love that boy and tell me something like this!" She was struggling against a taller, firmer figure, but the figure wasn't letting go. Her fists were flying, landing willy- nilly on chest and arms. "I can't believe this. I thought we were friends. I came to you when I needed help. When Ron left me. When I could barely get out of bed. I trusted you. LET GO DAMMIT!" she struggled more and Minerva held on tighter, she was practically incoherent. Her face was red and tears covered her cheeks. "Why? I don't understand. Why would you? How can I?" her fists were landing harder. "It's not 's NOT! It's 's 's not." With this last statement she collapsed against a solid form, violent sobs wracking her body. She allowed strong arms to envelop her. Minerva stroked her back silently as she cried, trying diligently to hold back her own tears. She was unsuccessful. They streamed with abandon down her face and into chestnut curls.

A half an hour later found them curled up with each other in an overstuffed arm chair next to the very spot the outburst had taken place. Hermione sat curled into Minerva's side, cheek resting on a bony shoulder, hiccoughing quietly in her sleep. Thin, strong, hands gently stroked her back, her cheeks, her hair.

Neither of them had brought up the subject of Ron's infidelity and departure since the day Hermione had showed up at the gates of Hogwarts, broken and alone, in the Highland rain, five years ago. They'd had a long night of talking, mostly Hermione telling Minerva of her disastrous marriage, the loss of her apprenticeship when she missed two weeks of work and her subsequent messy divorce. Minerva had offered Hermione a job teaching History of Magic and they had never spoken of it again. The first three years, Hermione had practically hermited herself in the castle. She taught classes, marked essays, ate, slept and watched after the students. She read every book in the library and had tea with Minerva every Saturday afternoon, but they never spoke of Ron. Two years ago, Ron had shown up at the gates and Minerva was prepared to hex him across the Forbidden Forest before Hermione turned up, placed a gentle hand on her wand arm, and heard Ron out.

The friendship was tenuous, at best, but "under construction" as Hermione liked to say. Minerva had never forgiven Ron. She could never forget the haunted look in those cinnamon eyes that night in the rain. But slowly, over the next two years, she watched as Hermione came back into her own. She watched her grow into a strong, sturdy, empowered, lively, beautiful witch. And now, Minerva thought, as she stroked the curls falling through her fingers, I've broken her all over again.