Well, this happened today at work...(LOL don't I wish it had happened!)...that is to say I got the idea, and wrote it. A one shot, and yes, I know, you all are going to demand I write a follow up...but just know that if you do...you will be distracting me from Wizardry Park. That said, I hope you all enjoy...and please wash your hands before reviewing. The next person to use your keyboard will be grateful. ;)
Nobody knew where they were. It was a quiet, abandoned park in a muggle neighborhood outside of Surrey, just after sunset on a summer night. The breeze caressed Minerva McGonagall's face as she looked toward the approaching figure of a slender young woman with wild, curly hair, and eyes that she knew were the color of chocolate, even if she could not see them in the dark. Minerva was here tonight to meet Hermione Granger - to see her former student for the first time in a year, and talk about the issue they had been dancing around for the last seven years.
Hermione's Owl had simply stated that they needed to talk, and named here and now as the place and time. Minerva knew she shouldn't have come to meet the beautiful young woman, but she also knew she couldn't continue to avoid this conversation.
"Minerva," Hermione greeted, stepping into the light under the lamppost where the older witch was waiting.
"Hermione," came a whispered reply. Formality had been dropped between them years ago, and Minerva now realized that formality had been the wall which, upon crumbling at the younger witches tender gaze, had marked the end of the first battle of many in the war called love they the two found themselves fighting.
She shouldn't want Hermione.
Hermione shouldn't want her.
Yet, despite what shouldn't be, it was, though up to this point, that notion had been a secret that each carried; a secret which had festered in each of their souls until this moment when the wound would burst open, and bleed three words that would spur this conversation forward.
"I love you," Hermione admitted quietly. "And I think you know that."
Minerva swallowed. "Yes," she croaked.
"I know you don't want to," Hermione continued, reaching out and taking Minerva's slender hand in her own, "but I think you love me too."
Minerva felt a tear drifting down her cheek. "It cannot be," she stated, considerably less firmly then she had meant to.
"But it is," Hermione concluded, taking a step closer to the older woman, and resting her other hand on a pale, damp cheek. "Isn't it?"
Minerva instinctively tilted her head to nuzzle Hermione's hand, and with a shuddering sigh, she said a word she knew would change her life. "Yes."
"What are we going to do?" the younger woman wanted to know. "Nothing, or everything?"
Nothing would mean walking away now, with a whispered goodbye and tears to ruin her makeup, becoming the cause of unwanted questions upon her return to Hogwarts. It would mean a murder-suicide, because the ruined hearts between she and Hermione would leave each of them as only a shadow, a ghost of who they were right now; of the women they each had fallen in love with.
Everything, on the other hand, would leave both of their hearts intact, though it would utterly destroy everything else that made each of them who they were. Careers would be finished. Friends would be lost. Even families would be broken to bits should she and Hermione follow the urge that now drove them to, even now, hold the other tightly regardless of the potential ramifications.
She shouldn't want Hermione.
Hermione shouldn't want her.
But, oh, damn everything and everyone to hell; they wanted each other with a passion that forsook all reason, and all concern for the greater good. Their thought processes moved as one, both considering the question asked, the problem pondered, and the choice to be made. Resolution came in concert with a syncing of heartbeats, as each woman leaned forward to answer the call with a soft kiss.
It was soft, at first, but mounting with emotion, and growing in intensity with each breath drawn. Tongues met with gasps, each woman gripping tightly to the other in fear that should they let go for only a moment, the kiss would end and reality of what had just been done would set in. When they stopped to breathe, Hermione would remember her fiancé, and Minerva would remember her duty to Hogwarts.
Too long; they had waited too long to have this conversation. The point of no return had come and gone without either of them being strong enough to step up and say no while denial of what had been born between them was still feasible option.
The kiss did eventually end, eye contact was made, and a silent agreement was made over what must be done. "We have to keep this quiet," Minerva whispered. "A secret."
"I know," Hermione agreed, burying her face in Minerva's neck.
"We'll make it work."
"How will I see you?" the younger witch asked. "And when?"
"I have a flat in London I use for a get away," the elder offered. "No one knows about it."
Going to Hogwarts was not an option, she thought bitterly, remembering the frightfully loud argument she'd had with Albus a few weeks ago regarding her feelings for Hermione and the unwritten, unspoken rule that the Head of Hogwarts may not engage in romantic relationships. As for Hermione's flat, the young woman shared the living space with Ginny Weasley, who could not catch them in bed together.
"Is there time?" Hermione asked, running her finger down Minerva's jawline, then across her collarbone, and then downward as far as the modest neckline of the older witch's dark green, cotton shirt, would allow without argument. "Now?"
"Are you absolutely certain you want this, Hermione?" Minerva asked, giving the younger woman one last chance to run the other way.
"I am," the younger woman nodded with a smile.
With a deep breath, Minerva apparated the pair of them to her small, London residence, and upon arrival, Hermione stepped out of Minerva's grasp and began to curiously look around.
"This place is you," she said, noting the paintings of Scottish landmarks, the neatly filled bookshelves, and a marble chess board set on a small table.
Hermione had once, years before, observed that her quarters at Hogwarts did not have many personal effects lying about. It was obvious a person of intellect lived there from the reference book filled shelves, but beyond that, there were no markers to tell who that person really was. This place, as Hermione had quickly noticed, was quite the opposite. This place was hers. When Hermione ventured down the hall toward the lavatory or the bedroom, Minerva was sure she would take note of the family photos that adored those walls.
"I got this place right after graduating from Hogwarts," the older witch confessed. "My parents had just died, and I was uncomfortable living in the family Manor with my brothers. We never were close, you see; my brothers and I. Robert and Malcolm agreed to bequeath me my part of the inheritance, and I used it to buy this place outright. I was able to study for my mastery without worry about bills and such, though I did still work part time at a Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley to allow myself some pocket money."
Hermione smiled softly. "This, Minerva, is what I look forward to in our...relationship. You have always been so closed off about your past, when all I really wanted at the start of this was to simply know you."
"So, no interest in the sex aspect?" Minerva asked, teasing Hermione for being so sentimental.
The younger woman blushed. "You know I am. However, I desire more than just a sordid love affair based on sexual attraction. I want all of you. I need everything."
"You have it," Minerva whispered, drawing Hermione close again. "You have my heart and you have my soul, Hermione Granger. I wish so badly others would be understanding, and we could be open with them about how we feel for each other."
"This is enough," Hermione promised. "Your love is enough. I don't need them to know."
With that said, Minerva leaned in and captured Hermione's lips for a second kiss. This time, they were safe from discovery and all cards were on the table, so now, there was no hesitation in the giving or receiving of said intimate gesture.
While Minerva McGonagall, in all her long years, had never been with another woman, nor desired to do so, kissing Hermione seemed natural. She felt instinct take over, and then before her next coherent thought could form, she and the brunette were naked and on her bed, though Minerva could not recall how they had gotten from the living room to the bedroom, though she thought there might have been a banishing charm involved somewhere. Come the next morning, she would notice several of the framed pictures on the hallway's walls were knocked to the ground, and Hermione would giggle about it.
There was no laughter now, however. Minerva knew, as she slid her hands down Hermione's wonderful curves and suckled on one of her breasts, that this night was to be a somber affair. They might as well have been secretly marrying tonight, for the ultimate trust each was offering the other. If their affair ever went badly, Hermione could ruin Minerva; just as she could ruin Hermione. The future as they knew it rested on their ability to keep this quiet.
Hermione moaned loudly as Minerva knelt between the younger woman's thighs and ran her tongue across her pulsing, wet opening. "Please!" she cried.
Minerva sunk two fingers inside Hermione and pulled out some thick lubricant, slathering it around the young witch's clitoris, massaging the sensitive nub into a very perked interest.
Squirming did not assist Hermione in escaping from Minerva's dominating ministrations. The older woman wanted to overwhelm her lover; in fact, she thought, she needed to do so. She'd wanted to do this since the first time she'd seen Hermione post her graduation, randomly one day in Diagon Alley. Seven years of unquenched desire left Minerva feeling rough and animalistic, a thought that caused her to reinsert her fingers and began pumping away, fucking Hermione roughly.
Hermione did not seem to mind this side of her former Professor. In fact, she seemed to like it quite a bit, if the moans and the way Hermione clawed at Minerva's ebony hair, urging her to keep licking, were any indication.
"Close!" the brunette hissed, breathless and biting her lower lip harshly.
Minerva's ceased licking, but removed her hand and continued to stimulate Hermione's clit with her fingers as she crawled atop Hermione and moved so that their faces were inches apart. Hermione orgasmed at last and Minerva moved forward to capture the scream of pleasure with her lips. Hermione kissed her back with desperate force, wrapping her cum soaked thighs tightly around the slim, older woman. Silence followed as Hermione breathed deeply in an effort to get her heart rate down, all the while still tightly gripping Minerva.
Hermione looked into Minerva's dark emerald eyes intently, as if she was trying to read the older woman's mind. After a moment, she let out a soft huff, and then used Minerva's relaxed state against her, twisting her body so that Minerva fell off of her, and then Hermione immediately climbed on top.
Anticipation rose in Minerva's chest, and as urgently as she had needed to touch and kiss and lick Hermione only minutes before, she felt double the need for Hermione to take control now.
Every other minute of every other day, she was the stoic Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall, and for once in her life she wanted to be as vulnerable as any other woman in love. She wanted no expectations, no image to maintain, and no demands on her presence. She wanted Hermione to claim her.
"Yours," she breathed as brown eyes stared down at her, looking mildly unsure.
Surprise, followed by satisfaction and then resolve flitted in Hermione's gaze. "Mine," she growled firmly after a moment.
There was no further hesitation. Minerva moaned deeply as Hermione kissed and then bit down hard on the pulse point on her neck. Need flowed through her body, setting every nerve on edge, as this was followed with Hermione's slow, methodical kissing and caressing of her body. Every inch of Minerva's skin burned with desire, getting hotter and hotter the lower down her chest, and then torso, that Hermione moved.
"Please," she begged as the kisses came to a pause at the top of her mound. "Please!"
The seconds were being counted by the drumming of Minerva's pulse.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
And then with a glorious eruption of ecstasy, Hermione dove forward and began fucking Minerva with her tongue. A minute passed and then Hermione moved her tongue to Minerva's clit. As wonderful as that felt, Minerva's core was still pleading for attention.
"Hermione," she whispered breathlessly, arching her hips upward in an attempt to force Hermione's tongue lower.
"No, you don't," Hermione ordered. A moment later, Minerva felt Hermione's fingers slide easily into her core, and then pressing the remaining part of that hand down into the mattress, forcing Minerva's hips to still. "Behave," came the added demand.
Hell, Minerva thought. If this is punishment I should defy her more often...
Her clit throbbed as Hermione continued her ministrations, and she could feel an orgasm building.
"Oh, gods..." Minerva panted, gripping the sheet beneath her frantically. "...'Mione."
And with a quick, hard thrust of Hermione's hand, Minerva's body shook with a wave of pleasure like she'd never felt before.
Hermione's hand stayed buried in her core until the contraction around her fingers ceased. Minerva was still breathing hard when Hermione came and lay next to her, pulling a cool sheet over their bodies, and cuddling close.
They stayed there, quiet for a time.
"I love you," Minerva croaked out eventually. "So much."
"And I love you," Hermione replied in an awed tone, nuzzling Minerva's breast with her cheek.
It wasn't long before the steady rhythm of Hermione's breathing told Minerva that her lover had fallen asleep. Just before following suit, Minerva thought about how scared she'd been a few hours before, and of how she'd known that no matter how the conversation with Hermione went, her life would have been turned upside down, and how huge of a risk being with the beautiful brown haired woman who had stolen her heart would be.
"No matter what happens in the future," she whispered to Hermione's sleeping form. "You're worth it."
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