AUTHORS NOTE: This story happened to come to me in a dream.

I have seen fics where Hermione doesn't know of Minerva's affection, or where Minerva rejects her, or when they get together.

But I have only read one where the more realistic prose of a much older professor being interested in an underage student came into play. Meaning she got taken to Azkaban. I rather liked that fic, but it was because it was so well written, I actually hated knowing Minerva had to be scenetanced to death.

I know none of us want to see our favorite couple like this, but I felt like it had to be written, if just for a bit of something new if nothing else.

While it does have more parts I am unsure as to whether or not I will be posting them. I am sorry things seem a little unbelievable and a bit graphic towards the end, or if things seem to move a little too quickly at first, I apologize, I was trying to write everything down while it was fresh in my memory.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and don't kill me for what I did to Minerva. Oh, the whole punishment thing at the end came from an idea from a rather ancient punishment for traitors in a culture, can't remember which though.

PS

I finished writing this at five in the morning with no sleep, please go easy on my soul.

Minerva McGonagall was not your average school teacher. She was as strict enough for three Muggle teachers put together. On top of that, she happened to be a witch whose ability to handle a wand was nothing to sniff at. Minerva had been teaching at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for almost four decades, and her reputation of being stern yet fair preceded her.

Minerva McGonagall was a rather powerful witch with years upon years of experience not only in a class room, but in war on the open battlefield. She had battled with a Dark Lord, wicked witches and wizards, and a bad muggle or two in her time.

Granted, that was long ago, when she was much younger.

Minerva McGonagall was blessed to have the physical prowess of her mother flowing through her veins, although she was in her mid seventies when she had first met the girl who would change her life, she did not look a single day over forty. At the time, she didn’t even realize that the young genius witch in her first year class would turn out to be one of the key players in the upcoming fight against the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and a key player in her own life later on.

As the years went by, the war raged on, and the girl had since grown into a beautiful, intelligent young woman, Minerva McGonagall had discovered something truly frightful, something so horrible, terrible, that some days she could hardly face herself in the morning.

She was falling head over heels for Hogwarts star pupil, and her favorite student, Hermione Granger.

At first it was respect for the maturity not usually seen in girls her age, then wonderment for her abilities and mind, and then admiration for her courage and strength as the war finally came closer than ever, and then discovering her pleasant company and wonderful friend. And finally, in the dim glow of the torches lighting the stairwell leading to the great hall before the Yule Ball, she had realized just how beautiful her young pupil had become.

But the moment she had truly realized she had fallen for Miss Granger, was when the dreams started, almost a year after the Yule Ball. They were beautiful, lovely dreams. Dreams about long strolls under the moonlight, or picnics in the summer sun warm caress, or of a candlelit dinner under the stars in a romantic restaurant, ending in a sweet kiss. That was only the beginning of the horrible curse of Minerva McGonagall. As the year had passed, the once sweet and innocent dreams turned to erotic and sensual nightmares. She was disgusted with herself, but the dreams did not relent.

Finally they became so unbearable she tried not to associate with her pupil unless deemed otherwise necessary by schoolwork, and unfortunately for her, this was happening around the same time her young pupil began to have several questions that one would often go to their older, mature advisor to seek solace.

“Miss Granger, I hardly think I am the appropriate person to speak to about this!” She had said in response to Miss Granger’s questioning about sex after one of their private lessons. The poor girl had gone so red, Minerva thought she might explode from the sheer embarrassment. Guilt wracked her relentlessly afterwards when Miss Granger couldn’t look at her the following week.

To make amends, she began to draft sleeping potions, special potions which would take away those horrible dreams which plagued her in the night. After she had done this, she had begun to feel relief. She was doing fine, and able to answer most of the questions young Miss Granger dared ask her after the incident. That is until the following Valentine’s Day.

“M-Miss Granger, Mister Weasley! What on earth…!”

She had the unfortunate experience of walking in on her prized pupil, and her sorest excuse of a pupil, snogging like the teenagers they were, in what had previously been thought to be an empty common room. She never knew she could experience such fury. She never knew her heart could break so easily. She never knew just how obvious she could become in that single instant of weakness.

The pain of seeing the two together brought nightmares, nightmares so strong the draft no longer held them at bay, nightmares, which in her opinion, were far worse than simple dreams of romance between a professor and her student. Now, they were of romance and sex with Miss Granger with Mister Weasley, of marriage with children, of being exposed by her jealous and angry ways towards the happy couple, of being alone for the rest of her life, trying to desperately, foolishly conceal a broken heart from the cruel laughs of fate.

But what was worse than the nightmares, worse than the ache she felt every time she saw her student, worse than she fear of her headmaster noticing, was the fact that after the explosion that had been her reaction to the sight of Miss Granger and her new boyfriend, her dear pupil spent twice as more time with her. She constantly trailed beside her whenever possible; asking such nonsense questions that Minerva knew she already had the answer to. It had felt as if the young woman had been secretly mocking her.

But that was months ago, and the lock around her heart finally seemed to be doing some good. She was once again friendly with Miss Granger. She still felt the aches, but had trained herself to pull on her best game face, ready to face the world if she had to.

It was winter, a few weeks before break. Everyone in the castle was anxious to leave on holiday, and at the same time nerve wracked about the war going on just outside of Hogwarts’ walls. Minerva walked briskly through the corridor heading towards the Gryffindor common room. As of late, Miss Granger had been insisting they spend time together after everyone had up to their dorms. Unable to refuse her young student, and against her better judgment, she had agreed, but only on the weekends and after she had finished her homework.

“Toadstool,” Minerva said to the Fat Lady, who then swung opened and allowed her passage. Miss Granger was sitting down in an arm chair reading out of her book and gently petting her cat Crookshanks. She looked so natural that way, Minerva had to pause. She was beautiful young woman, far from the awkward somewhat shy young girl she was when she had first arrived at Hogwarts six years prior.

Minerva could have stood there forever just looking at the beautiful young woman, but Miss Granger turned her head and smiled a beautiful, kind smile that made her heart flutter. She walked over to Miss Granger’s side and sat in the chair next to her. They talked for hours, and hours on end, about anything that came to their minds. It was wonderful. She hated to admit it, but she loved this newfound time with her pupil.

“Professor McGonagall.”

“We’re alone, Miss Granger, you may call me Minerva.”

“Then you have to call me Hermione.” Hermione said with a smile.

Although the urge to blush was intense, Minerva simply smiled and nodded, “Alright, Hermione.” She flicked her wand, and appeared on the small table in between them was a teapot and two cups. Hermione took a cup and waited until the teapot poured itself out into the glass before taking a sip. “Now, what did you want to say, Hermione?”

“I wanted to ask you for some advice.” Hermione sounded a bit concerned. Ah, must be another question leading towards a sexual nature. Well, Minerva wasn’t going to make Hermione feel foolish again. She didn’t want to see that expression on her usually sure student’s face ever again.

“Go ahead and ask, Hermione.” Minerva said, putting a hand over hers. “I’ll answer to the best of my ability.”

“What should you do if you know something about someone,” at Minerva’s confused expression, Hermione continued, “a secret about them that they probably wouldn’t want anyone to know about.”

“How did you come across the information?” Minerva asked, trying to gather enough information to give a logical response.

“By accident actually,” Hermione said, taking her hand to Crookshanks head and gently scratching his ears, which flicked in response.

“Do they suspect that you know?”

“No,” Hermione’s eyes trailed to the fireplace and Crookshanks flicked his tail side to side in his slumber. “I’m quite sure she hasn’t a clue. But, if I tell her I know, I’m afraid she’ll push me away. I feel like she’ll think I betrayed her somehow, even though I didn’t go sneaking around...”

“If it is a secret she has not told you as of yet, and there is no reason for you to worry about it—I’m assuming this little secret isn’t anything bad, which is why I’m not asking—you should simply let her know she can trust you, and wait when she’s ready.” Minerva had said finally. She had surmised that one of Hermione’s friends might have had a… questionable secret. Perhaps one she herself had at that age, when she was so deep in the closet she was finding Christmas presents from the last year. She was so glad that part of her life was over. Though, for all the childish drama she had had, at times she missed those years.

“I… suppose that’s reasonable…” Hermione seemed a bit odd, as if something else was bothering her. This didn’t sit well with Minerva, and she leaned a bit closer, wanting Hermione to look her in the eye.

“Is there something else?” she asked.

“W-well…” Hermione stammered, her cheeks going pink. “What if…” Minerva listened closely, her attention didn’t waver from her pupil, but unfortunately, her other students had other plans for her.

“Professor—professor!” a young first year called.

Minerva didn’t get to see Hermione until the day before break. Every single one of the students were snickering and whispering about something, every time she turned a corner, there was another group of students, staring and whispering. She could only guess what the school rumor was this time, usually such things made its way to the teachers, but this particular piece of gossip seemed too good for the adults.

“I hear they do it after class, right in the classroom!” a loud, squeaky whisper came from another group of students she happened by as she entered the library.

“No!” a girl had gasped, as if scandalized.

“I heard the reason Gryffindor got so many points after Granger transfigured that mouse into a ballroom carriage was because they’re shagging.” Another giggling whisper came.

Minerva paused at a bookcase on the other side where the small group was at this.

“That’s disgusting! How could Granger be interested in Professor McGonagall?”

It was this particular whisper which caused Minerva turn a bit pale. Her hands clenched tightly into fists. What on earth were they talking about… not about what it sounded like, surely! What kind of sick joke was this?

“Oh!”

“What?”

“What if she’s… you know.”

“WHAT?”

“What if Professor McGonagall… you know… blackmailed her or something?”

A collective gasp came from the group. Minerva felt her stomach quickly sink. These false rumors were getting too out of hand. This was ridiculous! Years of building a reputation, all to be soiled by some outrageous lie! She wouldn’t stand for it.

McGonagall stood out from behind the bookcase, and all the girls in the group gasped loudly, looking up in terror at her.

“Who told you this sickening story of my supposed attraction to Miss Granger?” she demanded.

“I—we—”

“I suggest that if you do not want to suffer a fate far worse than anything you could possibly imagine, you will tell me who started this wicked lie.” Minerva spoke in a very low, very angered voice. She could see from the scared expressions on the seven years faces that her voice was dripping with toxic venom. They didn’t believe she was shagging with Hermione Granger anymore. They thought she was the devil incarnate.

“We… well Jonathan told us that Mary said that James said that Connor heard from Goyle—”

“For Goodness Sakes, girl, get to the end!” Minerva yelled.

“Draco Malfoy over heard Ron Weasley telling Harry Potter!” one of them said quickly.

Minerva’s fists clenched so tight blood dripped from her palm to the ground. The students were trembling so badly and looked so pale they seemed ready to faint any moment.

“Back to your dormitories—all of you!” she barked. They all ran away.

After years of upholding appearances, years of earning the respect from her fellow professors, decades of hard work—all of that to end up being broken by the wild imaginations of boy?! NO! She wouldn’t stand for it! It was impossible! She had feelings for Hermione but no one, ever, was going to know that. Ever. She wasn’t going to let some adolescent ruin her teaching career and her reputation. Not to mention mock her.

Minerva McGonagall stormed quickly through the corridors, any student who saw her pass quickly shrank away, shivering in fear. She must have looked ready to kill, because several of the students even gave a yelp and ran in the other direction. It would have amused her if she weren’t so incredibly angry, so embarrassed… so filled with unimaginable hatred that she was ready to use the killing curse on one of her own students.

The Fat Lady looked at her with compassion when she arrived at Gryffindor Tower.

“Oh—don’t worry Professor—I don’t believe a word of it! Such nasty little brutes those children are!” The Fat Lady seemed to be frightened of the look in her eye too. “Please don’t do anything you might regret—”

“Wobble leaves!” She hissed.

The Fat Lady gulped and opened the portrait hole for her, and she stared, horrified at what she saw.

Draco Malfoy was lounging back on a sofa, and Hermione Granger was—

All Minerva could see was red.

“GET AWAY FROM HER RIGHT THIS INSTANT!” she screamed. Before she could realize what she was doing, she had wiped out her wand and pointed it right at Malfoy’s soft head. All she could hear was screams; she couldn’t tell whose they were though. Malfoy was on the floor on the opposite side of the room. She turned towards Hermione, who looked up at her in shock. Her heart broke, but she was in so much pain, she couldn’t stop herself from going off the deep end. She grabbed Hermione by the arm, and grabbed Malfoy by the ear, and dragged them both out of the room. It didn’t matter Malfoy had his pants down, and Hermione’s shirt was opened, and all the students starred. She marched to the dungeons and shoved Malfoy into the stunned possession of Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin, then proceeded to drag Hermione to her office, where she slammed the girl into a chair and shut the doors.

“Professor—please—” Hermione had started.

“What on earth do you think you were doing?!” Minerva snapped. “I thought you had more brains—I thought you had more self respect!”

Hermione was blushing and close to tears, but Minerva didn’t stop. “How could you?! Bringing a Slytherin into the Gryffindor tower is bad enough but to be doing that?! In broad daylight?! In the middle of the common room?! You’re a wonderful, brilliant witch—how could you let yourself turn into this?!” She threw a disgusted look to Hermione’s disheveled appearance, her bra was showing, her shirt was open, and her school robes were nowhere to be seen.

Hermione looked angry now. She must have hit a nerve, but she couldn’t stop.

“First Mr. Weasley, now Mr. Malfoy—you’re behaving like some common tramp!”

“It’s your bloody fault!” Hermione screamed, standing up and pointing at her. “I only did it so he would make another rumor to get people to stop talking about you! If you hadn’t been so damn obvious you were interested in me, than I would have never have had to do this!”

Minerva was taken aback, and to her surprise the door to her office swung open to reveal Albus Dumbledore with the Minister of Magic. But Hermione hadn’t seen, and what came out of her mouth next made Minerva ready to faint.

“It’s your own fault everyone’s talking about you bedding your prized pupil!”

Minerva trembled as Albus and the Minister looked at her in shock. She felt herself grow dizzy when the Minister stepped forward and she saw the two aurors on either side of him, wands at the ready and pointed right at her.

“I… n-no… it’s not…” She should have felt foolish, she was backing up, tripping over books and pieces of furniture to get away from the advancing aurors, her whole body was shaking, she was stammering like a criminal caught in the act instead of the innocent teacher she was. “P-please—A-A-Albus, it’s not what…!”But when her eyes darted across the room, her heart stopped. All she saw was the piece of parchment in the Minister’s hand, and the quill he handed Albus to sign it with.

“Minerva McGonagall, you are hereby stripped of your position as Deputy Headmistress.” The Minister was reading from the parchment Albus was hesitantly signing, casting her sorrowful, hopeless looks.

Oh Merlin no… if Dumbledore looked so helpless… what hope was there for her?

“You are from here on banned from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are under arrest for the crime of suspected sexual deviancy and endangerment of a minor.” She felt the aurors tie her hands and feet together with a spell which sent out white hot chains that burned deep into her skin. She let out a cry of pain as she fell to the ground.

No…

“You will be taken to Azkaban prison to await trail…” The auror to her left spat on her and kicked her onto her stomach. The other placed a boot over her face, pushing her head down painfully into the floor.

“If it were up to me, you’d be sentenced to death by the crucio curse this second.” The other auror hissed. “You kind of people disgust me.”

Minerva couldn’t believe that she was being dragged out in chains. She couldn’t believe that her students were allowed to watch as the two aurors quite literally dragged her through the mud. She couldn’t believe that Albus did nothing to stop them as they beat her into a pulp as he and the Minister went over paperwork.

No… no… this can’t be happening… It was the only thought that she could manage through the events that transpired next.

Minerva’s mind was in a horrible fog. Everything that was happening around her was surreal and hazy. It felt like a horrible nightmare, a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. She couldn’t believe it was real, she just couldn’t. The weeks of torture that followed after her arrest within the walls of Azkaban, the names they called her, the horrible things they described to what they did to ‘people like her,’ never given a chance to explain. She would never touch Hermione, even if it was her deepest desire, she would never have touched her. She would never have been able to live with herself.

But she wasn’t given a chance to explain, she wasn’t even given a proper trail. The war outside had turned for the worse, and no one had any time for anything else. Murderers were spared, rapists and kidnappers, traitors and spies, all of them went unpunished.

Not her, though.

One night, late after the prisoners were supposed to have gone to bed, her jail cell opened up with a loud crash. She had jumped from her bed, holding her thin, scratchy sheet close to her chest in fear. They hadn’t needed to declare why they had entered for her to know. It was quite clear it was not a simple nightly beating for her, not when she saw the Minister and two other wizards who appeared to be witnesses.

It wasn’t long, or fair. There were no witnesses to be called, no gathering of accounts, no evidence laid out. They merely dragged her out by her hair to an ancient looking chair. Then the two Aurors strapped her down, and cast another spell on her so she was stiff as a board, and she noticed very quickly that every sensation felt intensified, she could feel every splinter in the chair beneath her, the air at her face. At first, this confused her, but she would not be in the dark for much longer.

“Minerva McGonagall, under the order of the Minister and this court, you are found guilty of all charges.” An Auror held a wand at long, metal branding iron. He muttered a spell she couldn’t make out, but a second later the iron was blazing a bright red and it bended and curled into a pattern. She immediately recognized it, and her heart pounded in fear as she realized why they had given her extra sensation of her skin.

No, they couldn’t do that to her! They couldn’t brand her as a deviant predator—it had been stopped when she was a small child, decades ago, for being inhumane. And besides that—they had no proof she had done anything! No, this was too cruel!

Minerva tried to voice her disposition, tried to explain that this had all been a huge misunderstanding, that this had all been because of a rumor a boy from a rival house had started, that she had never laid a finger upon Hermione Granger, but her throat was sealed tight by the spell which held her in place.

To her horror, the branding iron was lifted up, and an auror with a sickening smirk walked close to her. She wanted to move—to get away from the advancing iron—to scream;

No—I-I didn’t do anything!!

But her inner screams went unnoticed, her obvious innocence ignored, and she was punished for the crime she did not commit.

A howling scream of agony ripped from her throat, even past the spells and enchantments to keep her pleas of non guilt at bay as the white hot iron pressed deeply into her enhanced skin, and the smell of burning flesh lingered in the cell. The pain was so excruciating she could barely stay conscious. Her body writhed as the auror held her head in place, for it had seemed the spell had only worked long enough to ensure she did not try to escape her fate. Once the iron was pressed into her, she could move. Or maybe it was because the pain was so intense that the reaction from it was far too powerful to be held at bay, even with magic.

Her stomach churned violently as the pain rushed through her entire body, from the wound fast forming on her head to the tips of her fingers and toes, it was such intense agony as she had never before known. She became violently sick, gagging as the auror grabbed her head, forcing her head to stay in place, not allowing her to spit out the horrible acid vile in her mouth. She thought she was going to drown in her own vomit, she even began to black out, but something unexpected happened.

There was a giant blast, and Minerva felt the iron fall from her head into her lap. She let out another scream as she managed to writhe right out of the chair and onto the floor, wildly kicking the iron away from her. Her vision was hazy and she was still terribly sick to her stomach. In her daze, she reached for her forehead which burned with the intensity of what felt like a thousand suns. The touch only made it worse, and she let out another shriek of pain. She felt wetness on her cheek, but she was in such pain, she couldn’t tell she had begun to cry. Everything hurt. That’s all she knew.

Her mind was so far gone she hadn’t wondered what had happened to have caused the Auror to release her, or why said auror had not attempted to recapture her. She hadn’t wondered how the giant whole in the wall had come to be, or why the dementors seemed to be helping certain prisoners escape from their cells. She didn’t realize she was stammering towards the newly formed exit, or that she was making her way out of the most secure Wizarding prisons in the world back to freedom.

In fact, in later years to come, she wouldn’t remember how she had survived the first few weeks out of prison, much less how she survived living on the street.

But one thing she would remember, there was one thing no amount of pain or suffering or punishment could make her forget.

The names of the ones responsible for placing her here on the streets, homeless, her career ruined, in hiding, nearly powerless after months of torture, branded as the worst kind of criminal for the rest of her life; Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley.

And the girl who had signed her arrest warrant, the one who had opened her mouth at precisely the wrong time, the one she should hate the most, but the one she could never bring herself to hate…

Hermione Granger.

The student she had had the great misfortune of falling in love with.