AUTHORS NOTE: This is a short follow up to the previous chapter. I don't know when the next chapter will be written up, though. But, I think I'm going to put it about ten years into the future.

Oh! And when Madam Pomfrey is talking about Minerva having a weak heart, for those of you who have read the books, she seems to hold her chest quite often especially in moments of surprise. So, I figured I'd tie it in. That, and older people do tend to have weaker hearts.

Hermione had gone through the day in a cheerful mood. She was engaged to the guy of her dreams, she, he, and Harry were all close friends again, her grades were soaring as always, and she was sure that a bright and beautiful future was waiting just around the corner for her.

But still... in the back of her mind, far from her immediate thoughts, there was a certain… something, something that jabbed her mind every now and again when she wasn’t thinking about Ron. A certain something she couldn’t place, something she had forgotten, like a dream she had had a long time ago.

Hermione fixed her bag, which was filled to the brim with books as she turned a down a corridor, heading for her next class. The sight she was met with was more than a bit unsettling. Professor McGonagall was standing stiffly to the side of the hallway.

She had a sudden ache in her chest when she saw her professor, but assumed that it was just heart burn. She was just about to move along when she noticed Professor McGonagall grasped her chest, and noticed how pale the older woman looked.

‘’Professor?” she asked worriedly, walking towards her. She had never seen Professor McGonagall look so weak before. She felt panic rush through her as the older woman gasped for air, but no sound came from her throat. She couldn’t breathe. “P-professor! Are you alright?!”

But that question was answered in the most horrible way possible. The professor’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, and Hermione screamed as the older witch fell to the ground with a sickening thump, unconscious and unmoving.

“SOMEONE HELP!” Hermione shrieked in horror, forgetting all about her large stomach and getting to her knees as quickly as possible to check on Professor McGonagall’s pulse. There was nothing.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” she whispered brokenly, her eyes watering and overflowing with tears from a pain in her heart she couldn’t explain. She reached wildly to her robes for her wand, but remembered she had accidently left it in her last class. “No, no, no, no, no—HELP!”

Students had fled in all directions, each desperate to find a professor nearby. But Hermione didn’t see, all she could do was feebly try and bring Minerva back to life, by doing the only thing she could think of; CPR. Most of the students looked confused, but those who were muggle-born and those who had lived with muggles understood immediately. One student had quickly stepped in to do the compressions while Hermione did the breathing.

It felt like years before a professor had arrived. Hermione was in a daze now. She didn’t think about Ron or the baby or anything other than Minerva’s welfare. She didn’t even notice that somehow, somewhere, she had stopped thinking of McGonagall as a professor, and now held her as someone close to her heart.

“Is she going to be okay?” Hermione asked desperately as three of the professors gathered around Minerva, She was in too much of a haze to recognize whoever they were.

“She’s fine—please, Miss Granger, go to your class.”

“NO!” Hermione fought against the hands that had suddenly appeared around her arms. “No, let go of me!”

“Miss Granger, please, calm down!”

But she did not calm down, not even when she felt immense pain rip through her stomach, or when Madam Pomfrey came and begged her to, not when three professors had to try and physically restrain her for fear of injuring the baby. Not for anything. Not until Minerva had been successfully taken to the hospital wing, and she was lying in a bed next to hers.

“Can’t believe you,” muttered an annoyed Madam Pomfrey as she made sure the infant inside Hermione’s stomach was safe. “Putting yourself through all that stress—could have—foolish girl—I never—”

“What happened to the Professor?” Hermione asked softly, her eyes not once coming off of the sleeping witch.

“She’s always had a rather weak heart when it came right down to it, dear.” Madam Pomfrey said, her eyes never leaving the task at hand. “And she’s not exactly young anymore, is she? Yes, I think it’s the stress gaining up on her, the poor foolish thing. She desperately needs a vacation, but does she listen to me? No.”

Madam Pomfrey finished up her work and glanced at Hermione. “Your baby’s fine, dear. But no more stress. Understand?”

Hermione gave a half nod, not really paying attention to the nurse’s words. Her eyes were just locked onto the sleeping professor. She looked so… troubled, so sad. It was truly heart-wrenching to witness the once strong Minerva McGonagall reduced to a lump of a body on a hospital bed.

And yet… it felt… somehow… intimate, like this was a part of her that she would never allow anyone else to see. And for some reason, this thought made her smile, and feel a sort of pride deep within her heart that soothed some of the ache in her heart that had came when she first saw Minerva faint.

For some reason she could not explain, just being near Professor McGonagall, it made her feel, calm, comforted…

Maybe even something she couldn’t quite place, something that confused her…

Love.