A/N:
I haven't given up on any of my on going projects. Lately, I've been rather taken with the idea of writing glimpses of lives well lived. This is one for Narcissa and Hermione.
The war was over. It had been for years. Yes, they won, but it wasn't without great loss. With the last battle the final light of Hermione's innocence had been extinguished. She stayed at Hogwarts in the aftermath. She helped to rebuild the castle, though in her soul she knew knew it would never be same again. There wasn't enough magic on earth to entirely clean away the blood that had been spilt. It had been natural to stay for her 7th, albeit delayed, year. That decision alone was the final nail in the coffin of her relationship with Ron. He jumped at the opportunity to become an auror without completing his education. He was ready to move to London, get a flat, and start a family. In the abstract, those were things that Hermione wanted too. She just couldn't see them with him and she had a number of things she needed to do first.
The final year of her studies allowed her to avoid her fame. After a couple of weeks, the other students were so preoccupied with exams, homework, and quidditch that they paid her little mind. The privacy gave her the opportunity to develop a close relationship with her mentor, the type that could never have been possible before the war. It was at Minerva's insistence that she retained a lawyer to see to her affairs. There was a disgusting amount of money being thrown at her and her friends. Her legal counsel helped her control her image and invest wisely. As a result, by the time she graduated from Hogwarts she could afford to do anything she wished. The war took her family, as it took so many things. She quickly found that money did little to fill that void. Instead she turned towards her work for a sense of fulfillment.
At Kingsley's insistence, the Ministry of Magic established a special department dedicated to peace and reconciliation in the British magical world. He offered Hermione a job as soon as she finished school. He made it clear that he was relying on her to help sell the message of the program to the public. It was the only way she felt comfortable using her accidental fame. He envisioned the department hers alone in time, but wanted to give her time to adjust to ministry inner workings. She wasn't shocked when another large name was appointed to the new department. The Minister of Magic was a clever man. Hermione reveled in the challenge of creating a work environment where she and Narcissa Malfoy could create a microcosm of what they hoped to develop in the larger world.
The first year working together proved to be one revelation after another. The blonde was breathtakingly intelligent. She delighted in challenging Hermione and making her laugh. In turn, she was truly and deeply forgiven. Common ground was forged over kettles of tea sipped in front of Hermione's fireplace. The young witch listened with empathy to the stories of the oppressive upbringing of children in the Black household. Her heart ached for all three, even the one that marked her indelibly. She regaled the blonde with stories of the muggle world until Narcissa insisted that Hermione show it to her. The older witch treated each experience with the sort of reverence that reminded Hermione of her first trip to Diagon Alley.
The women fell into an easy rhythm as the seasons turned. It was a rare day that they were not in each other's company. Their work caused them to travel the whole of the country together. They gave joint speeches and listened quietly to gut wrenching stories of the first and second wars. Together they helped lay the groundwork to ease tensions in decade long disputes. The greatest peace they brokered was between Narcissa and Lucius. They separated immediately after the final battle. But it was Hermione who was there every step of the way as the blonde witch made life altering negotiations. After months of work, the divorce was finalized and the former spouses were able to amicably take part in their son's wedding.
On the third anniversary of the final battle, they arrived together to the memorial. Narcissa had been watching her younger companion for days gauging her stress. Hermione was infamous for her ability to bury her emotions and carry on in the most difficult situations. But after 18 months of spending 12 or more hours a day with the young woman, Narcissa felt the subtle shifts. As they walked up the path to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade, the blonde intertwined their fingers. The action was a habit saved for the most challenging moments. Over the months the small comforting touches had become commonplace. Yet still the older witch felt affirmed when the slender fingers around hers tightened. To her surprise even as they came into the sight of other people Hermione didn't disengage. She spoke to the others while affectionately stroking Narcissa's thumb with her own as though it was as natural as breathing.
But it stole the blonde's breath as all too clear revelations came crashing down over her. In the last 18 months somehow she'd gone from hate to love, love to lust, lust to truth without even noticing the change. She wondered if the lovely witch had experienced the same.
They parted as Hermione greeted her mentor and adopted mother by launching into her arms. The blonde couldn't help but to watch in fondness. She so treasured the few moments where the brunette was unreserved and joyful. As Hermione's confidant, she knew well the pain the witch bore. The small group they were standing with moved towards the Great Hall. The location would forever be an odd amalgamation of memorial, meeting room and battle field. The witches drifted back together as they reached the doorway allowing the backs of their hands to brush.
Narcissa paused midway through the room while staring at the floor. That particular piece of stone was the last place her eldest sister stood alive. An arm wound around her waist, hand cupping her ribs with tender possessiveness. The warm voice in her ear soothed her as she leaned into the touch. The young witch at her side was deceptively strong in numerous ways. As she attempted to gather her emotions again she paused to inhale the soft scent of Hermione's perfume. There were few in the crowd that would understand the significance of where they stopped, and those that did chose to discretely ignore that the two witches had paused. After a moment of pregnant silence, the blonde turned her head towards her companion only to find hazel eyes searching her face at close range. She couldn't help but return the same intense gaze. She was suddenly extremely aware of the proximity of the pink lips she would not mind tasting. But before she could act on the thought, Hermione pressed soft fingertips to her lips.
"This isn't the time or place, darling. But when we leave here today I promise to fulfill your unspoken request."
Narcissa nodded slowly at the person who knew her better than all others. The young witch always followed through with alarming consistency. And of course, she was right. The blonde did not want their first of (hopefully) many kisses to be marked in any way by the tragedy of their current location, nor did she wish it to be tainted by association to her deceased sister.
"I will hold you to that," she responded when the soft fingers were removed. She smiled slightly at the thought of a future with the young witch.
Hermione winked at the response and started moving them forward again to keep up with the crowd. She did not release the blonde witch from her arms. There was no question that the older witch could handle the situation, but there was no cause for her to do so alone. Not to mention that they fit together astoundingly well, but they had from the first moment they were in each other's orbit. Once Hermione had gotten past the fact that the beautiful woman had birthed the young man who tormented her throughout grade school, she couldn't deny how much she desired the woman. She had begun to think of things like age and gender as small details in the wake of the generosity and beauty of the witch. Over the last few months she was certain that the blonde was awakening to her feelings, but the young witch held no real expectation that they would ever act on them. She was too grateful for the relationship they had developed to feel as though she was owed more. But as always, Narcissa was intent on pushing her slightly beyond her comfort zone. She couldn't bring herself to deny the woman anything.
For the rest of the event the witches were cocooned in one another's presence. Though there was considerable sadness, a sense of closure settled over the attendees. Narcissa and Hermione had been invited to speak, but declined. Over the last year and a half they had done the lion's share of the talking about the war. It was high time that other voices were heard. When Minerva rose to speak, Hermione almost immediately began crying. While she was generally stoic, the elderly witch had the ability to transport her back to her darkest days with just a few words. The blonde witch pulled her into a tight embrace. Hermione buried her face into the soft pale neck absorbing every bit of comfort offered. She felt a completeness she couldn't have imagined existed when Narcissa's hand cupped the back of her head holding her in place.
The remainder of the day passed quickly. The witches greeted old and new friends alike as representatives of the ministry. The blonde finally pulled Hermione away from her fans sensing that her companion was at the end of her tolerance of crowds. The young woman went willingly at the gentle pressure at her elbow, going happily wherever the blonde wished to take her. Narcissa surprised her by making a small detour through the town at the edge of the castle. They sat down together at an intimate booth near the fireplace. The blonde ordered them a small dinner and wine.
Hermione was astounded at how seamlessly the atmosphere had shifted between them. It was clear that the blonde had reset her intentions on seduction. The young witch had never been so doted on, nor had she ever enjoyed it so much. She couldn't tolerate men who insisted on treating her as though she was incapable of caring for herself, but she loved the attention from Narcissa.
When a single chocolate dessert was delivered, the young witch intertwined their fingers. She was nervous until the slender hand squeezed gently in reassurance. The bottom fell out of her stomach when Narcissa offered the first bite on her own fork. Hermione closed her eyes and moaned at the sensation of being fed. When she opened them again, she was being consumed by bright blue eyes.
"Please take me home," she finally begged when she could take no more.
"All you had to do was ask," the blonde smirked in response.
The older witch quickly settled the tab and gathered their cloaks. She smiled as she stepped into the green flames directing herself with floo powder to Hermione's apartment. The young witch smiled at the audacity of the woman, but knew her reasoning. As always the blonde made the decision that she knew would put Hermione most at ease. The moment the young witch stepped from the flames she was pulled flush against a decidedly soft female body. She nearly fell apart at the first achingly gentle kiss. When they paused for air, she moaned the woman's name in need.
With obscene familiarity, Narcissa led her towards her own bedroom. Hermione paused in the doorway to take in a sight she had only dreamt she might see one day. The blonde stood next to her bed in a sinful blue gown that matched her eyes. And those eyes that had once been so chilling were setting Hermione's body alight with desire.
"Oh Cissa, you've no idea how many nights dreamed of this," the young witch said from where she was leaning against the doorway. The blonde in front of her was genuinely beautiful.
"And what did you dream," the older witch asked reaching her hand out waiting for her soon to be lover to take her offer.
Hermione slowly slid her hand into the soft palm and allowed herself to be led into a warm embrace. The strong arms that held her flush against the older woman's curves made her feel safe and desired.
"Everything. I dreamed of your skin against mine. Being at your mercy for hours on end. Having my name chanted from your lips. Late nights and early mornings. Just you," the young witch whispered reverently against soft skin.
"If I have you, I fear that I won't be able to let you go," the blonde witch said slowly measuring each word as though it might break the moment.
Hermione chuckled but didn't move from the warmth of the older witch's embrace. When she felt the soft body tense at her reaction, she nibbled lightly at her neck. "I won't want to be let go, Narcissa. We've practically been dating nearly 2 years. I've had plenty of time to think about it. I just want you."
The blonde leaned her head to the side exposing more skin to the devious mouth. "Not everyone will understand," she said gasping for air.
"Honestly, Cissa. At this moment do you really think I care." The young witch bit down a little harder tugging their bodies closer. "I just want you."
The heartfelt confession pulled at the last stands of the blonde's hesitation. With two slender fingers she raised the chin tucked against her neck so that hazel eyes met her own. The desire and love was palpable. Narcissa wanted to speak out in poetry to lay plain her heart for the young witch. They lived in such a world of words it seemed appropriate the the beautiful woman knew every cliche thing the blonde had ever thought about her. The pink lips that consumed her own seemed content to communicate through other means. And as Narcissa was lowered gently to the bed, she began to see the value in actions. Small soft hands traced her body through the formal dress, worshipping every curve.
"I haven't been able to take my eyes off of you for months, love," Hermione cooed close to the blondes ear before taking it gently in her mouth. "I want to feel every bit of you coming undone for me."
Narcissa arched wantonly into the woman hovering over her. "Believe me when I say I am more than ready for you," she groaned.
The young witch looked decidedly blonde squeaked indelicately as cold air followed by warm skin enveloped her. Hermione ground lightly against her leg causing Narcissa to shudder and grab her hips. As the blonde set a steady pace, the young witch dropped her head back and moaned. When she grasped a firm nipple between her finger and thumb, Hermione's hips bucked and the slick spot on her skin seemed to grow exponentially.
"You are so beautiful," Narcissa moaned when a toned thigh came into contact with her wetness.
"Oh, Cissa. You have no idea. May I have you?"
Clear blue eyes blinked in an attempt to process the question, as she felt thoroughly had already. She nodded not wanting to deny the witch whatever she wanted. She held her breath as the body sheened with sweat slithered between her knees. She forgot how to breathe entirely as the hot mouth engulfed her. Hermione was at once soft and demanding. Narcissa had never known such burning need. She teetered on the edge just from the attentions of the girl's clever tongue. When hazel eyes peered up at her filled with adoration and love, she came apart at the seams. She didn't notice Hermione climbing back up her body. Gentle fingers wiped away tears from her face followed by feather light kisses.
"I love you," Narcissa whispered into unruly brown curls.
Hermione froze and smiled broadly. She kissed the damp forehead, proud cheekbones and pursed lips.
"I love you too, Narcissa. I have for a very long time and I will even longer."