AN: So the plot twist in this chapter took me by surprise just as much as I imagine it will take you guys by surprise. My muse is a little asshole.

Week 8

Hermione couldn't honestly say she was resting easy with her decision to go through with the pregnancy, much less live at McGonagall Manor with her former Professor. She wasn't uneasy about those choices either. It was just… unusual. She had commented on how very unsure she felt about everything to Minerva the evening before, and the older witch had laughed, and said "Welcome to parenthood."

She'd been there nearly a week now, and she supposed she was settling in. It wasn't as if she was so pregnant as to stop her doing much of anything at this point, so she'd spent much of her time exploring the grounds. This manor would be a lovely place to raise a child, though Hermione had no expectation of that being a reality. If she hadn't worn out her welcome by the end of the pregnancy, Hermione was sure she'd be shown the door point blank once the baby came, and it was up crying at odd hours of the night. If she even kept the baby, that was.

"What are you thinking about?" Minerva asked from the armchair opposite the one Hermione was currently occupying in the library.

As much as she wanted to be honest about everything on her mind, she didn't want to pressure the older witch into offering a more long term arrangement. Minerva had done far more for her already than anyone could expect of her. "I was wondering if I could take my NEWTS at the Ministry before I start to show, so after the birth I can find a job straight away. I was also wondering if there was a job I could do remotely so I could be working through the pregnancy without alerting anyone of my condition."

That was, honestly, some of what was on her mind and it would serve as a solid conversation. "I wouldn't worry about working now. You'd have to stop any job toward the end of pregnancy and for a time after the birth for you to acclimate to motherhood - should you choose to keep the child, that is - and if your desire is to hide his or her existence for as long as possible, a maternity leave would be counterproductive to that end. Even if you give the child up, you're going to need at least a week or two after the birth for you to stabilize both physically and emotionally. Giving up a child… it's not easy, even if you feel it's the best thing to do."

The look on Minerva's face spoke of personal experience and Hermione gave her a questioning look. "Did you…"

"I had a daughter just before I turned nineteen," Minerva said softly. "And I gave her up. Her father was a muggle man who I'd been engaged to, but I broke things off, afraid that our marriage would mirror my own parents. My mother was a witch, my father a muggle, and my mother lived her life in his world, never using magic as not to break the Statute of Secrecy. That lasted till my elder brother started showing signs of being magical, and my parents' marriage was strained from then on."

Minerva paused, and Hermione remained quiet, allowing the the other woman to gather her thoughts. "I didn't want that. I didn't know I was pregnant when I called off my engagement to Dougal, but being pregnant didn't change that I didn't feel I could marry him. As such, I hid the pregnancy with my dear friend Filius' help - yes, that's Professor Flitwick to you - and after she was born I left her at an orphanage for wizarding children."

"Do you know what became of her?" Hermione asked, thinking of Tom Riddle, a half-blood child left at an orphanage who grew up to become a Dark Wizard.

"I do, though I didn't learn of it till she was into her fifth year at Hogwarts. I was teaching my own daughter, and for five years I didn't know who she was. My half-blood daughter was adopted by a pureblood family...Druella Black had accidently smothered her own infant girl and in fear of going to Azkaban for causing her own child's death, she and Cygnus quietly adopted a little girl, near enough to their own girl's age, and no one was the wiser."

Hermione's eyes widened. She knew the Black family tree well enough to know that who the progeny of Cygnus and Druella Black were, and after doing some quick math she realized that only the youngest of the three daughters fit the timeline. "Narcissa Malfoy?"

Minerva nodded. "Can you imagine how difficult it was to see her marry Lucius? Or raise her son to hate muggles?"

"It's… Merlin, Minerva, I'm so sorry," Hermione said sympathetically. "Does she know you're her mother?"

"Heavens, no," Minerva laughed. "I've thought about telling her, over the years, but what would it serve? Her world would be turned upside down. Her marriage would suffer. And can you imagine young Draco coping well with waking up one day to find that the woman who was Head of his rival House at school is actually his grandmother? No, Hermione, I gave up my right to be a part of her life the day I left her at that orphanage. I share this with you not as a pressure of any kind, but to get you to consider the lives impacted by the choices before you right now. You said your child's father died. Did he have family who might want to be part of this baby's life? How will you feel in twenty years if you have to learn that your child led a life so very contrary to what you'd have wanted for them? Will you be able to handle seeing your child, and later grandchildren, potentially hating you for your nature, because of the convictions of their upbringing?"

Hermione raised her knees to her chin. "He had no family that I'm aware of, and yes, I have looked a bit. His parents are dead, and he was an only child. His mother was an only child as well, and I've not been able to find anything about his father's family, though what little I know about his relationship with his father, I suspect that there was some estrangement there. Do I want to learn my child is being raised in the dark arts? Merlin, no! But honestly there are plenty of cases where children raised by their own parents go contrary to how they were raised. Sirius, for example. Or Barty Crouch Jr. Keeping the child makes no guarantee they will choose a path of my approval."

"Fair point," Minerva conceded. "I'm not trying to argue with you, Hermione. I suppose I just wanted you to know that of all people, I do understand how difficult a position you're in.

Week 9

Minerva wasn't quite sure why, after all those years of keeping it a secret, she'd told Hermione about Narcissa. Filius had been her sole confidant in that truth since the beginning. Hermione certainly wasn't the first young woman she'd tried to steer away from the notion of aborting a child, and in some cases, she'd even advocated for giving the child up. In those cases, it was because the mother was in no fit state to see to a child, not because she liked the notion of the risk in sending a babe out into the hands of chance any better. Hermione, however, was as emotionally stable as one could be in the wake of a war, physically healthy, and mentally sound. She was more than able to take care of a child, and Minerva honestly thought Hermione would make a great mum.

She would admit, but only to herself, that the selfish side of her just wanted Hermione to keep the baby because it would increase the chances of Hermione sticking around. Much to Minerva's surprise, she found that she actually quite liked Hermione being around all the time, and the notion of a baby in this house didn't bother her one bit. She knew that any good counselor at St. Mungo's would accuse her of trying to live vicariously through Hermione; to push Hermione into making a choice she wished she'd made, so in a small way she could find some peace in her regret. The counselor would likely be right, to a point, which did make Minerva feel a bit guilty, but at the end of the day Minerva could honestly say she was not a bully and while she would present argument, when all was said and done she knew full well it was Hermione's choice to make, and she would respect that.

As to the why she'd told Hermione about the daughter she'd given up, Minerva supposed it boiled down to the level of ease she'd always felt around the young woman now living with her. Even at eleven years old, Minerva had looked at Hermione and felt a sense of calm. As Hermione grew, that feeling grew into an odd sort of trust. Something inside of her simply knew she could trust Hermione Granger. Odder still, it seemed that the unasked for, and unearned trust seemed to extend both ways. Hermione seemed just as at ease around herself as she was around the younger witch.

Why was that?

Minerva looked over to her bedside table at a picture of her now deceased wife, Amelia Bones. Amelia would have known why Minerva was so drawn to Hermione. She'd have given the matter only a few moments of thought before coming to a probably ridiculous and yet decidedly correct conclusion.

There was a rap on her bedroom door. "Minerva?"

"Come in, Hermione," the other witch called, pulling on a silk robe to cover the rather risque sleepwear she'd already changed into.

Brown eyes widened at the still rather revealing attire on her former professor. Hermione was wearing a pair of lightweight shorts and a tank top that showed her midriff a bit, which Minerva knew was fairly common sleepwear for the current generation. "Um…"

"What did you need, dearest?" Minerva inquired, trying to focus on the younger witch's eyes but distracted by the way pregnancy was already starting to emphasize Hermione's womanly curves.

"I was planning to go into London tomorrow morning for some shopping. I was wondering if you'd like to come," Hermione spewed out, suddenly eying the floor intently. "I mean, I know you said your plan was to hide at the manor for the foreseeable future, but honestly Minerva, you have to get out now and then. Staying cooped up is hardly healthy."

Minerva nodded in agreement. "As it happens I'd been meaning to suggest a trip out over breakfast in the morning. That sounds like a plan. We can grab lunch out before coming home, if you like."

A memory flitted into the older woman's mind of an Italian place in Muggle London she and Amelia had used to frequent. She would take Hermione there. It had been ages since she'd made time for that wonderful little eatery. Despite being in the middle of the city, the restaurant was actually situated between two buildings, leaving an open courtyard which was landscaped to mimic the Italian countryside.

"Sounds like a plan," Hermione agreed. "Breakfast at seven?"

Minerva nodded. "Indeed. Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Minerva."

After the younger woman left to return to her own bedroom, Minerva curled up in bed and found herself sound asleep not long afterward, a long hike that evening having worn her out. Sometime in the middle of the night, Minerva woke with a start at the sound of Amelia's voice giving her the answer she'd been seeking only hours prior.

"You're attracted to the girl, you idiot," Amelia's voice informed her smugly.

Minerva just stared into the darkness for a while, considering what her subconscious was trying to tell her. It didn't take her long to consider how complicated that would make things if she were truly attracted to Hermione, though she was a far cry from being ready to full on admit it to herself, even if she could plainly see the denial for what it was; denial.

"Well, shite," she muttered grumpily, rolling back over and trying to think of anything but the beautiful woman in the next room.

PLEASE REVIEW! (Should Minerva tell Narcissa the truth, after all these years?)