Hope you like it; an idea that wouldn't leave me alone. I may not have managed 4000 words for my dissertation yet, but I could submit a detailed account of the wicked imagination that has given me countless smutty ideas recently!
It was the Easter holidays of 1999 when the Weasley clan, Hermione and various others had somehow found themselves roped into helping Harry finally sort the almost decrepit house of Black that he had inherited from Sirius. They had been at it for three days with Molly, Hermione, Ginny and Harry putting the most effort in, whilst everyone else either pretended to be busy or made even more of a mess. The fourth day, even Molly had declared a rest day, seeing as Harry and Ginny were spending the day with baby Teddy; Ron was not-so surreptitiously sneaking off to Lavender's; and George was...well, nobody asked, sparing him the need to lie. Arthur had spontaneously turned up with a bunch of flowers for his wife, and promptly whisked her away for a 'nice country drive'. Hermione thought he'd been sneaking glances at the Mills and Boon series that Molly had become so enthralled with. And so it was, with even Neville and Luna spending the day together away from the house, Hermione found herself sitting in the kitchen, sipping on a Gillywater, glancing through The Daily Prophet and marvelling at how deadly quiet a space could turn into in a matter of minutes. She sighed happily to herself, wondering how to spend her day, when a loud crack echoed throughout the kitchen, causing her to squeal girlishly and spill her drink all over the paper.
"Bloody Hell, George! When are you going to grow out of that?" she took a few short breaths to try and regulate her heartbeat whilst George meandered around the kitchen,
"Language, Hermione. Surely a witch of your intelligence could be a tad more eloquent?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes as he appeared to be studying some sort of ancient clouded bottle, trying too hard to look casual.
"George, what do you want?"
George clutched his hand to his heart and gave a barely passable attempt at a wounded look.
"Honestly, Hermione, you offend my delicate sensibilities. Can't one just drop by for a chat?"
At Hermione's doubtful raised eyebrow, he sighed.
"Of course, knowing one as well as one does...testament to a true friendship. Which is why, I turn to you in my hour of need."
As Hermione sighed, George rummaged in his robes, and with a flourish pulled out an almost miniscule potion bottle, setting it down gently in front of Hermione.
"No." Hermione immediately said, turning her attention back to her soaked paper. George sighed.
"But you haven't-"
"I don't need to. I am not being your guinea pig...go find Ron and Lavender."
George pulled a face.
"This," he gestured at the potion. "Is not just any old potion. This is in development for a very special kind of clientele. Very elite."
Despite herself, Hermione's interest was piqued.
"Oh yes?"
George nodded.
"It's been requested by the minister for magic himself, for use in the Department of Mysteries and the Auror office amongst others. And so neither Ron nor Lavender are really the best candidates for this type of testing."
Hermione still looked dubious.
"And what, exactly, is this potion for?"
George smiled smugly. He almost had her, he knew.
"Well, what it does is show the person their heart's desire. Kind of like a liquid Mirror of Erised. But the image projects outwards for a minute to enable others to see..."
"So the ministry can tell if there's any malicious intent behind a job application."
"Exactly. Among other things."
He didn't add that the potion was also in development for a string of Investigation Agencies, thinking that, on ethical grounds, Hermione may object.
"The minister has given me a grant; I can pay any testee." George added with a sparkle in his eye.
"I have reservations," Hermione began, and George knew if her speech went on for longer than a minute, he'd have to intervene before it turned into a full on oral essay. He'd had enough experience of that with his mother. "I mean, it'd be a gross invasion of privacy to use it on everyone; there's the potential of blackmail; of broken hearts...but, the idea is quite a solid one."
She sighed, and levelled such an intense look at George that he felt as though he were the object on trial. "Very well. I'll do it. But don't tell anyone. Least of all your mother."
George grinned and nodded. He handed her the bottle.
"Do I have to take it in front of you?"
"Well...it is kind of the point, Hermione. Otherwise how am I to know that it works?"
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then tilted the small bottle back and swallowed.
After a moment, she felt the sudden urge to heave. She opened her mouth and gagged, but out of her mouth came a steady jet of mist that, after a moment of swirling about Hermione as if indecisively, morphed into the figure of a person. Hermione's eyes went as wide as her mouth, and George, for once, was utterly speechless. The swirling mass had morphed into a very clear, very unmistakeable projection of Minerva McGonagall. It stood between the two people almost defiantly, but with a soft smile and a sparkle in the eyes, before dematerialising slowly.
George blinked.
"Well..."
Hermione turned scarlet.
"Perhaps it means that...um...Transfiguration..." she trailed off helplessly.
George snorted.
" Hermione, I may run a joke shop, but don't try to insult my intelligence." He poked her in the ribs.
"Hermione and Minerva, sitting in a tree..."
She glared at him until he had the sense to stop.
"Please, George, don't tell anyone."
Suddenly serious, he put his arm around her shoulder.
"I wouldn't do that, Hermione. It's not just some crush; it's your heart's desire. I wouldn't mess with that. But perhaps you should think of telling a certain someone."
Hermione gave a short laugh.
"Yes, that'd go down like a lead balloon, wouldn't it? Hi, Professor, great lesson, by the way, I'm in love with you."
George smiled softly.
"Hermione, you could have passed your NEWT's last year; hell, you could've passed them at the same time as your OWLs; you've spent most of this year giving out extra tuition, and helping the staff with the first year essays; it seems to me that that leaves only one real reason why you are still at Hogwarts."
He tapped her lightly on the nose and changed the subject to spare her from trying to answer.
"Now, I need you to keep a record of any symptoms you may experience; any activities that you were undertaking at the time; here's the sheet. I'll be checking on you every hour or so, ok?"
Hermione nodded, and George apparated with a loud crack, leaving her alone to the welcome silence but her suddenly unwelcome thoughts.
An hour later, Hermione threw down her book with a noise akin to a snarl. She ran a hand through her hair, wiping the back of her hand over her forehead simultaneously for the umpteenth time. She got to her feet and frowned as she realised that her back was clammy, too. She made her way to the kitchen, suddenly very aware of the friction the movement caused between her legs. Her thoughts straying to the whereabouts of the rest of the gang, the almost-moan that emanated from her as she thought of Minerva McGonagall took her completely by surprise.
"Minerva..." she whispered, testing, and felt a jolt straight between her legs. "Oh for the love of..."
The rest of her sentence was drowned out as George apparated into the kitchen. Glaring at him, Hermione moved to the kitchen sink, and taking deep breaths, she held her wrists under the cold water.
"Everything ok?" George asked over her shoulder, slight concern lacing his words but his eyes still sparkling over what he had seen earlier.
"Fine, I think. It's just a little hot in here."
"About to get hotter, I'd say!" he nudged her as the fireplace roared to life and out stepped Minerva McGonagall, her robes almost instantly cleansed of the effects of using the Floo network. Hermione heaved her eyes from the ceiling to pierce George with a withering stare.
"Crikey!" he said, stepping backwards, holding up his hands in surrender. "Perhaps it's best you don't spend intimate time with her; you're already far too alike-" he was cut off by Hermione's wand held steadily against his chest.
"We don't threaten wand violence unless we really mean it, Miss Granger." Minerva commented, as she entered the kitchen and observed the scene with a quirked eyebrow.
Hermione didn't lower her wand, and Minerva detected the tiny beads of sweat forming around her hairline.
"Are you ok, Hermione?"
George snorted, but as he opened his mouth he felt Hermione's wand harder in his chest, and he promptly shut it again and backed away. Hermione finally lowered her arm and broke eye contact with the mischievous Weasley.
"I'm fine, Minerva. What brings you here?"
"Goodness, Hermione," George began, pulling out a chair with a flourish and offering it to Minerva. "Wherefore art thou manners? Tea, McG?"
Minerva raised her eyebrows and tried to keep her gaze stern.
"Sorry," George responded. "It just rhymed. Anyway, I think it's rather fortuitous that our esteemed headmistress has dropped by today. With everyone else out and me having to pop away on unavoidable business, it seemed rather sad you here all alone. Now...you're not!" he beamed at the amused Minerva, and the bemused Hermione, before busying himself with the tea.
Hermione took a deep breath, and willed her body under control. Smiling, she sat opposite Minerva.
"It is good to see you." she said, then almost wished she hadn't as Minerva smiled back and her insides tightened.
"And you, Hermione. I dropped by to offer my services in the great clean up, but it seems I come too late."
"Imagine that." Hermione responded drily, eliciting a mock glare, then a wicked smile.
"Domesticity has never been my strong point, but I daresay it would have been fun to have a rummage through this house." As she spoke, Minerva picked up the miniature bottle that had contained the Erised potion. Hermione gulped as Minerva took off the top and sniffed. She pulled an almost approving face. "Smells like it was interesting."
"That's one word for it. And you'll be glad to hear that the cleaning is by no means finished; today is just a day of rest. So your hands would be very welcome tomorrow."
George snorted, but as he felt Hermione's eyes boring into his back, he managed to turn it into a hacking cough. Minerva pulled a face.
"Ah, how unfortunate. Today is really the only day that I am free this week, and no doubt it will be finished by next week."
George turned around and placed the tea set on the table.
"Don't let our Hermione put you off, Prof...another rhyme! You can pop around for a cuppa anytime, and we promise not to bundle you into a protective outfit and leave you to the murky mercies of the attic."
"Now put it like that, and it sounds far more intriguing."
George grinned. "Well, I'd best be off. Time is money. Time is a wasting. Time...to go." He finished, seeing Hermione's almost murderous glare. "I'll pop back in around an hour."
And before Hermione could protest, he was gone, leaving Minerva chuckling and Hermione squirming.
They exchanged small talk for a while, Hermione for once not so grateful that the other woman seemed genuinely at ease in the company of a student, her skin seeming to get hotter with every second.
"Hermione, are you quite alright?"
Hermione jerked forward in her seat, immediately wishing she hadn't because of the pressure it placed on her groin. She hastily shifted and suppressed a moan, instead managing to plaster what she hoped was a convincingly charming smile on her face.
"I'm quite fine. Just a little lightheaded. They weren't too fond of windows in this house, were they?"
"Wanted to keep the house Black, like their name and their souls, is what Sirius used to say when he was younger. We used to reprimand him for it when we first heard him say it at school; but then we met his mother."
Hermione snorted. "Her portrait's enough for me. We've still got nowhere near getting her down off the wall. But at least the curtains are charmed to stay shut now."
Minerva smiled.
"I don't doubt that you'll find a solution eventually." She reached out to lightly touch Hermione's hand. The contact sent shocks through Hermione's whole body, and even Minerva pulled away as if burnt. She studied Minerva with a furrowed brow, and looked to be on the verge of saying something when a loud crack announced another visit from George.
Hermione almost fell to the floor in her haste to get out of the chair. George frowned, taking in Hermione's flustered appearance and Minerva's half-frown.
"Mind if I borrow Hermione a moment, Minerva? Not to be rude, but it's something she needs to see and something that you'd probably be happier not knowing about."
Minerva nodded, smiling, knowing from past experiences that if it was a new brand of Puking Pastilles Hermione would be the first to let her know.
Alone in the adjacent dining room, George anxiously felt Hermione's forehead.
"You've got a fever? How long have you felt like this?" he checked his watch, and then studied Hermione's eyes, which had narrowed into menacing slits.
"I do not have a fever." She ground out. George held up his hands.
"Now Hermione, just remember before you bite my head off that you volunteered for this ok?"
She sighed exasperatedly.
"I'm not feverish, George, I'm bloody horny!" she hissed quickly, and then blushed profusely.
"Wha...oh!" he giggled like a girl.
"I think your potion has too much desire in it."
"So it would seem. And perhaps this house has too much McGonagall in it hmm?"
Hermione groaned and wiped her hands roughly over her face.
"George, please...tell me that you have some sort of reverso...thing?"
George gulped, not even cracking a joke at Hermione's abandonment of her impeccable English.
"Well, umm, you are the first subject, and...umm...well, I know the effects wear off after several hours so..."
"Several hours?"
"Give or take. It can't be that bad, Hermione; I mean, it's just desire, right?"
This time, Hermione did snarl, and George backed up towards the kitchen.
"Just. Desire?"
Hermione whipped her wand out and for the second time aimed her wand at George's chest at the same moment that he backed all the way into the kitchen. Minerva got to her feet.
"Miss Granger, really. Twice in one afternoon? I hate to question your state of mind but..."
Hermione smiled, sickeningly sweet.
"You're absolutely right, Minerva. And my father always said that it was rude to curse in company."
She lowered her wand and George was about to give a sigh of relief when she punched him on the arm, sending a tingling sensation all the way down to his fingertips. She turned on her heel and left the room, not trusting herself to be around anyone for any longer.
Minerva's head whipped to the kitchen door and back to George. She looked at him expectantly.
"Well, Mr. Weasley. Or is it best that I do not ask?"
George rubbed his arm but flashed a disarming smile.
"If you don't ask, Ms. McGonagall, I won't lie."
Minerva rolled her eyes.
"All the same perhaps I should go check..."
"No!" George's reply was so forceful that Minerva stopped in her tracks and blinked several times.
"No?"
"No...well, I think it's best if she has a bit of time to calm down, otherwise she'll be riled up for hours."
Minerva half-nodded, not really convinced, but at that moment the fire roared to life and out stepped a laughing Neville and Luna, followed by Bill and Charlie Weasley, whilst simultaneously the front door opened and the distinctive voices of Ginny, Harry and Andromeda could be heard along with the gurgling of a happy baby. Minerva soon found herself embroiled in catching up on gossip and having her share of 'Teddy time', so for a while she completely forgot about Hermione's rather hasty and violent exit. When it became apparent that everyone had reappeared hoping for something to eat, Andromeda decided to be mother and in no time had put together an assortment of sandwiches and snacks.
"Where's Fleur?" Minerva asked Bill, passing him the salsa dip.
"Oh, she said she has enough trouble getting on with her own housework, thank you very much. Especially since Mr. Ollivander has decided that he needs to repay her for her care last year and that means popping in at any given moment for tea, coffee and biscuits. He's driving her nuts."
Everyone smiled, which sparked a general discussion about various couples and situations. Everyone 'awwed' when Neville, blushing profusely, said that he was very glad he'd got to know Luna, and everyone looked amused when Luna said she'd like to marry when the rare potted pernalunnus plant was in bloom. Everyone snickered when Charlie dramatically threw himself at Bill, pretending to be Fleur; and after a minute of shocked silence, everyone guffawed when Minerva managed a scarily accurate impression of Lavender Brown's 'Won-Won'.
"Bloody brilliant!" George exclaimed with a wicked glint, earning him a stern glare.
"What was, Mr. Weasley?"
"All we need now is to get Hermione out of the house and into somebody's arms." Ginny said. George was not oblivious to the strange, tense look that flitted quickly over Minerva's face. Putting two and two together and hoping against hope that he was taught math correctly, he cleared his throat.
"Speaking of...she's still upstairs somewhere. I'm pretty sure she hasn't eaten all day, either...perhaps I'd better..."
Minerva got to her feet.
"Perhaps it's safer if I go, after your earlier encounter."
George pretended to sulk and sat back down.
"Why not just send a patronus?" Ginny asked.
Minerva pierced her with a look before she exited.
"Just because one can, Ginny, doesn't mean one always should. We'd all be giant blobs of useless fat if we used magic for everything."
"Well Dudley doesn't use magic for anything, and from the little I've seen of him he's been well on his way to one of those since he was born!"
The whole room burst out laughing once again, echoing up the stairs as Minerva made her way to the third floor.
Hermione reached her room and slammed the door behind her. With a growl she practically ripped her top off and threw herself face down on the bed, hoping the cool sheets would dampen the fire that had spread throughout her whole body. Unbidden, images of Minerva flooded her mind, and she was left exasperatedly wondering how anyone could look so bloody sensual brandishing a wand as well as a cup of tea. She hissed as another shot of desire bolted through her body, pooling in one already painfully uncomfortable place. Moaning in frustration, she slipped a hand underneath herself, straight into her underwear, her middle finger instantly resting on her throbbing clit. She sighed in relief at the contact, and whilst her hips immediately bucked into her hand for more, she audibly swore at the ludicrous situation she was in. Logical thought went out the window as she continued to finger herself harder and faster, her thighs contracting rhythmically around her hand. It wasn't long before she was biting into the pillow as her body jerked erratically, her fingers extracting every bit of pleasure before she ripped them away, the contact too intense. She rolled onto her back, trying to steady her breathing, her hand now drawing lazy patterns on her bare torso. Her eyes fluttered closed again as the movement caused goose bumps all over her body. Her eyes opened wide in surprise at her body as her hand once again slipped into her now soaked underwear, and her hips were already arched off the bed in anticipation. It was as though the first orgasm she gave herself was a warm-up, as the desire and heat that now coursed through her body seemed to have intensified tenfold. She shoved her jeans down to her knees, not bothering to take them off. She slipped a finger inside herself, mouth dropping open at the contact, which she quickly discovered wasn't enough. She added another finger, and used her other hand to roughly pull at her nipple, her mind flashing the most erotic images that she'd ever seen.
"Fuuuck," she whispered, neither knowing nor caring what part of her brain had dragged the word out. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck," she panted as she thrashed wildly on the bed, hips thrusting, searching for more contact. She flipped onto her stomach and thrust down hard onto her hand, not entirely successfully muffling her noise this time as she came.
Half hour later, Hermione lay in the middle of the bed, sheets tangled all around her, dripping with sweat. She let out a frustrated groan as she ground her cunt against the pillow unceremoniously bunched between her thighs. It seemed the more she tried to sate her desire, the more it built, until she didn't know what to do with herself. Feeling her muscles tighten again, she balled her fist against the pillow and bucked against it until she saw stars again. Shakily, she got off the bed, and made her way to the bathroom, deciding that if a cold shower couldn't sort her out, then all hope was lost. As she divested herself of the last of her clothing - a pair of unseasonal Christmas socks - she mentally conjured up every known swear word, jinx and curse for George Weasley and Minerva Mc Bloody Gonagall. Pressing herself against the cool tiles and wincing as the cold water cascaded down her back, she cursed herself, too.
Minerva reached Hermione's door and knocked gently. She tried calling Hermione's name and when she received no answer, she gently opened the door, wondering if the young woman was sleeping. Entering the bedroom, Minerva was almost sent reeling. The scent in the room was almost overpowering. Hearing noise in the bathroom, she made her way over to the door, frowning at the severely mussed bed sheets. She was about to knock when she heard some sort of muffled moan from inside the door.
"Hermione? Are you alright?" This time she heard a squeal.
"Minerva! Fine! Yes...quite fine!"
Minerva nodded, still frowning, and then remembered that Hermione couldn't see her.
"Very well. There is food prepared downstairs; some people came back for lunch."
This time Hermione nodded, before remembering and trying to find her voice.
"Ok, I'll be down in a minute."
As Minerva left the room, she breathed in once more, and when the realisation hit her she was almost floored. The bed...the smell...the shower...she made a hasty retreat.
When Hermione re-entered the bedroom, she took in the bed and the realisation hit her. Minerva had entered the room, and as an animagus, she had without any doubt not mistaken the lingering scent in the air. Groaning, she thought about skipping lunch, but then realised that that course of action could bring a troupe of visitors to her door, and even with a scourgify, she was sure they'd still be able to tell. Quickly drying her hair, she pulled on a light yellow summer dress, strappy with a plunging neckline and a loose, airy skirt falling to just above the knee. Hopefully it was light enough to keep her from sweating, at least whilst she was in company. She left her room quickly before she changed her mind.
In the room, conversation quieted slightly when Hermione walked in. Neville, ever the gentleman, got to his feet.
"You look wonderful, Hermione."
She blushed as she assessed the table and saw with dismay that the only available chair was at the head of the table, with Minerva directly on the left and George on the right. Deciding it would look rather odd if she conjured another chair, she resigned herself to the inevitable discomfort, and sat, plastering a winning smile on her features.
"Thank you, Neville. Just something I threw on."
"Well you threw it marvellously, Hermione." George added, smirking into his goblet of pumpkin juice as he noticed the surreptitious glance Hermione threw Minerva, who actually looked like she was blushing. "Well worth the unceremonious exit you deigned to produce earlier on."
Hermione scowled, and quickly moved her attention to baby Teddy, who had a firm grip on Luna's earring, attempting to get it to his mouth. Andromeda was trying to intervene. Hermione couldn't help but smile; the earring was, after all, a radish, and would ultimately do him no harm. She caught Minerva's eye and they both shared a grin, before they both simultaneously remembered the state on Hermione's room, and both quickly focused elsewhere.
Minerva didn't know why, but she found herself feeling rather...jealous was the only word she could find that came close to describing it. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the inside seam of her jeans suddenly resting in an altogether too personal space.
As the food and conversation flowed, Minerva relaxed more, letting herself keep hold of Hermione's gaze on occasions and touching the other woman lightly when called for. Hermione, for her part, was having trouble keeping her hands to herself, though given her earlier state, she supposed it wasn't such a bad thing. Every time she caught Minerva's eye, it was like a jolt was sent straight to her groin, leaving her at one point almost rocking on the edge of her seat. She knew that a flush had crept up her chest and to her face, and she could feel her palms beginning to sweat again.
"How much longer?" she hissed to George when everyone else was engrossed in conversation.
"I don't know, Hermione; you really are the first test subject. Perhaps it might last till you get the touch of your heart's true desire..."
She swatted him lightly on the arm; not having enough energy left for anything more, and truthfully blaming herself as much as she did George. But if she had to stay by Minerva for much longer...At that moment, Bill and Charlie announced their imminent departure, and Hermione practically fell over them in her haste to see them to the door. On the way back from the front door, Hermione could hear everyone discussing their plans for the rest of the day. Andromeda wanted to nose about the attic for a while; Harry and Ginny were taking Teddy to Hogsmeade, and Neville and Luna were going to the zoo. Hermione skirted around George's chair, barely managing to keep her breathing even.
"I'm going to the cellar to get some wine." She muttered, and flitted quickly out of the kitchen. Conversation kept flowing, and George gave it a few minutes to make sure Hermione really wasn't rushing back before he leant over to Minerva.
"Prof, would you mind going to the cellar and making sure Hermione doesn't ruin the collection with her philistine ways? I would, but there's a quick something I need to share with Ginny..."
Minerva nodded as she rose.
"Of course. That collection would be envied by even Madam Rosmerta. We can't have her drinking a 1600 vintage with a tuna sandwich."
George snorted and waved the older woman away before she could see his devilish smile.
He waited a few minutes before he cleared his throat.
"Right, guys. Sorry to break it up but could we move out of the kitchen please?"
Harry, Ginny, Neville and Andromeda looked at him with furrowed brows.
"Well, we were going to have coffee before we left."
"Didn't Hermione go to get some wine?" Harry asked. Ginny looked around for Hermione, and seeing no sign of Minerva either, met her brother's eyes in understanding. She swatted Harry lightly on the arm.
"Come on; you can't be under the influence with a baby in tow anyway. And if we don't leave now, we won't have long before Teddy's bedtime."
Harry rolled his eyes, but knew better than to argue.
Ginny made sure Andromeda was on her feet before they left, and as they said goodbye, gently steered her towards the dining room door.
"I'm sure you remember where the attic is; but there were obviously a few new additions since the last time you were here; best you start now...pick your way carefully over the rubbish bags; some are merely unconscious, not dead."
If Andromeda thought it odd that Ginny ushered her out of the room, she didn't mention it.
They heard a slight noise coming from beneath them.
"What was that?" Harry asked, tensing.
Ginny lightly pushed him towards the fire.
"What was what? Come on!" she managed to get Harry out of the house before he decided to investigate further. Ginny left with a quick peck to George's cheek and a hastily hissed, "I hope you know what you're doing!"
Neville looked thoroughly confused at the haste with which his friends departed.
"What..."
"Come on, Neville," Luna said in her dreamy voice. "We won't want to be here when they start making too much noise."
Neville just looked baffled as they reached the front door.
"Who?"
"Hermione and Professor McGonagall of course. Goodbye, George."
George laughed and hugged his quirky new friend. He went back to the kitchen, intending to clear up, but upon hearing another noise that sounded suspiciously like a groan, he himself made a hasty exit.
Down in the cellar, Hermione sat on a pile of empty crates breathing deeply. Her attire had done nothing to help her rising temperature; if anything the dress exacerbated her desire, the material softly tickling her skin. Raking a hand through her hair, she failed to notice the presence of another person until she heard a softly cleared throat. She kept her face buried in her hands.
"George, please...don't tease...I can't do this anymore."
Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder and started.
"Can't do what, Hermione?" Minerva asked, concern lacing her features.
"No..." Hermione whispered. She slowly got to her feet, trying to shrug off the hand of her professor, but she held fast.
"Hermione..."
"Please, don't touch me." Hermione almost sobbed, taking almost all of her self control not to throw herself at Minerva.
Instead of listening, Minerva lifted Hermione's chin, trying to meet her eyes.
"Why not, Hermione?"
Hermione's whole body shook as she roughly grabbed Minerva's hand and pressed it hard against her chest, her already aroused nipple tightening painfully. She pressed her lips against Minerva, and the two women stumbled backward until Minerva was backed up against the wall. Hermione's eyes flew open as she finally felt Minerva struggle, and she let go of the woman, backing away quickly.
"That's why." She said harshly, her voice shaking.
Minerva's eyes were wide with shock and she couldn't tear them away from Hermione.
"What the..."
"God, Minerva, I'm sorry! It's just...GAAAH!" Hermione almost screamed with frustration. "I just...Oh, God...I just...I can't be near you; I just want to touch you, to feel you, to...feel you touch me." her voice finished in a whisper, and she had slowly made her way back to Minerva. "And it's wrong. Like this...now..."
Minerva's eyes closed as Hermione cupped her cheek.
"Yes," she breathed, and for a wild moment Hermione thought she was dreaming again. "It's wrong."
"Minerva..."
"What are you doing, Hermione?"
"I want to kiss you. Do you want me to kiss you?"
Minerva took a raspy breath.
"Want has nothing to do with it."
Despite herself, Hermione chuckled.
"Right now it does." She pressed her lips to Minerva's and felt the other woman gasp softly. Their bodies melted together as the kiss deepened.
"We can't do this, Hermione," Minerva panted, managing with seemingly great effort to drag her wandering hand away from the hemline of Hermione's dress, no idea when it had reached there.
"No we can't." Hermione half-groaned as she wrenched herself away from Minerva. Dragging a hand through her already mussed hair, she took in Minerva. "I...I tested a potion for George earlier. This...it's made me..."
Minerva frowned.
"This is due to a potion?"
"Yes...No! Sort of." Hermione groaned; she'd never known herself to be so tongue tied.
Minerva straightened her outer robe, torn between being hurt and concerned.
"And how long have you been feeling like this?" she finally asked, concern overriding her personal feelings.
"About 3 years, give or take," Hermione whispered softly.
"Hermione, you have two minutes to explain, though heaven knows why I'm asking."
Hermione took a deep breath, deciding that honesty was the best policy, before she ruined everything.
"Minerva; I agreed to help George test his latest potion; it's a sort of Erised potion...it projects the heart's desire of a person, so other people can see too. It's not a commercial thing. But it...well, it projected you. For the last three years, I've been falling for you; I just...thought it would go away." she willed Minerva to meet her eyes, willed her to see the truth in them. "These are not false feelings, Minerva. Just..."
Finally, Minerva met her eyes, though Hermione was hard pressed to read anything in the eyes that she now realised could be many different shades of green.
"Just the addition of too much desire to the potion?"
Two smiles helped to ease the tension.
"I'm sorry, Minerva; it shouldn't have come out like this. It shouldn't have come out at all."
The silence went on for too long to be anything but uncomfortable.
"Hermione..."
"Minerva, don't. Please don't. I know that-"
Hermione was silenced by a pair of lips pressed firmly against her own.
"You can't know anything when I am not even sure myself. Perhaps some of that potion has spilled over, because I can't..."
They kissed again until Minerva ended up sat on the crates with Hermione half on her lap.
When they both moaned, Hermione pulled away.
"We can't do this." Minerva whispered again, her cheeks flushed, her heart pounding.
Hermione turned away. She pressed herself up close against the wall of the cellar, but instead of offering a reprieve, the coolness of the smooth plaster on her nipples and flushed cheek only served to accentuate her arousal. Pressing herself harder against the wall, she closed her eyes. "But if we were, what would you be doing to me?"
She heard Minerva's raspy breath, the small tremble of her body against the crates.
"I'd already be inside you."
"Oh God."
Hermione heard the distinct rustle of material and a softly whispered incantation. She felt a flood of warmth and her hips bucked again.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, her palms braced against the wall, not daring to turn around.
"I'm fucking you." Minerva breathed, and from the hitch in her breath and the little sounds coming from behind, she realised Minerva was touching herself.
"Am I wet?"
A heartbeat passed, and Hermione thought she may have pushed too far, but then she felt something, and though it was the faintest brush against her clit, she almost slammed into the wall.
"God, yess." The tone of Minerva's voice was almost enough to send Hermione over the edge. When she looked down and saw that Minerva's hands were nowhere to be seen, she realised that the incantation must have been a projection charm.
Her nails dug almost painfully into the stone wall as the pressure steadily increased, but the touch was still achingly slow.
"Can you feel me?" Minerva asked, the timbre of her voice resonating through Hermione's whole body.
Hermione moaned in response and slipped one hand to her breast. Hearing Minerva's gasp, Hermione instinctively squeezed.
"Can you feel me, too?"
When Minerva groaned a yes, Hermione began to play with her nipple, causing Minerva to add another finger to her clit and quicken the pace, making both of them arch and moan.
"Minerva, please..."
"What do you want, Hermione?"
Both their voices were shaking, their breaths coming in short bursts.
"I want you to make me come...like you make yourself come."
No sooner had she said it than Hermione felt the palm of Minerva's hand pressing against her clit, seconds before she felt two fingers unceremoniously sliding into her and begin to move.
"Oh, God." Even though there was nothing physically there, Hermione still opened her legs further.
"I...need more," Minerva ground out, not sure if Hermione would be comfortable.
"Please." Hermione pleaded, and when Minerva tilted her head and saw the way Hermione was stood, she almost sobbed as she inserted a third finger into herself, holding them inside her up to the knuckle to draw as much pleasure as possible before thrusting slowly in and out.
"You're going to kill me," Hermione panted, her hips bucking with every thrust. Minerva quickened her pace, Hermione's voice and her hand on her nipple almost driving her to insanity.
Hermione's eyes widened as she felt the tingling sensation building in her stomach; felt her muscles tighten; her hips moving more erratically; the feeling familiar yet not as she experienced Minerva, too.
"Minerva..."
"I'm coming." They both whispered simultaneously, the added knowledge that the other was feeling exactly the same pushing them over the edge.
It took a few minutes for both women to fully return to normal. Hermione didn't know if Minerva had finished the spell, but she was feeling more content than she had for months, and her desire was sated. Reality took a moment longer to seep in, but when it did, Hermione felt as though she'd been punched in the heart; she heard Minerva's quickly uttered Finite and realised that she'd still been experiencing Minerva's feeling, too. Agonisingly slowly, she turned around, but not quite trusting her legs enough, she kept her back leaning against the wall.
"Minerva."
Minerva had sat up on the crates, and put her robe straight, but she refused to look up.
"Minerva."
"Goddamnit Minerva, look at me!"
Guarded green eyes finally met Hermione's flashing brown ones. Hermione sunk to the floor, knees drawn up, just about eye level with Minerva.
"Are you ok?" she asked softly. To her surprise, the other woman snorted.
"Ok? Hermione, I just made love to a student! Do you know what that makes me?"
Hermione's eyes melted in compassion.
"Horny? Minerva, I'm sorry."
Hermione leant forward on her knees and cupped Minerva's chin, forcing her to keep eye contact.
"Minerva, I really am sorry...for this; for making you do this. But I am eighteen years old, and not really classed as a Hogwarts student by anyone. If you don't feel anything for me, then fine; I'll allow you to wallow in your self-flagellation; but Minerva, you didn't say sex; you said made love. To me, that means something. So don't bloody beat yourself up if you meant what you said."
Despite herself, Minerva smiled.
"You do have quite a way with words. Hermione, you didn't make me do this; that's the point. I wanted this; wanted you. But...not like this. In a wine cellar, under the influence of a potion...yes, I know it only enhanced feelings already present, but still; it seems like I used you, because you had no control. Student or no student, that's not right."
"You want me?"
Minerva's eyes sparkled as she smiled softly at Hermione.
"Of course."
"And you didn't use me...I used you."
"Hermione..."
"Oh, ok, so we used each other!" Hermione said exasperatedly. "The point is; yes, it's a wine cellar; yes, I drank a stupid potion, but we both wanted this regardless. Three years ago; six months ago; today; tomorrow; next year, I will still want this; want you. I love you, Minerva, and I don't regret this."
"I could never regret this." Minerva whispered.
"Then stop feeling guilty."
Hermione's hand squeezed Minerva's knee, and in that moment, they both became aware of the hand that had been gently stroking Minerva's thigh.
"How much longer until it wears off?" Minerva asked, and Hermione swore she heard sadness in the voice. Hermione cupped Minerva's cheek.
"It already has." She whispered. "Please believe me, Minerva; I wanted you anyway."
"And now that you've had me?"
Hermione leant forward between Minerva's legs and pecked her softly on the side of her mouth.
"I haven't stopped wanting you yet...nor can I see myself stopping...and in case you've forgotten; technically, I haven't had you."
Minerva's breathing hitched as Hermione gently pulled her in for a kiss. She decided to reassure Minerva with a truth that she had only just accepted herself.
"The only reason I'm still at Hogwarts is because of you."
This time it was Minerva who searched Hermione's eyes, and seeing nothing but truth, pulled Hermione in for a breathtaking kiss.
Hermione pulled away, and rose to her feet, waiting for Minerva to do the same. When they were in each other's arms, Hermione concentrated and with a loud crack they ended up in her room.
Minerva raised an eyebrow.
"Couldn't think of anywhere a bit tidier, Miss Granger?"
Hermione kissed Minerva and pressed her backwards until she sat on the bed. When Hermione straddled her lap, Minerva moaned appreciatively.
"It doesn't need to be tidy; it's had a practice run so it's warmed up."
Minerva laughed, the sound sending shivers down Hermione's spine. She pulled Hermione back on the bed, so that Hermione was now lying on top of her.
"I knew you were a very logical woman."
"Logically, it makes no sense to get our clothes dirty, though, does it?" and with a muttered spell, they were both on top of each other in their underwear, gasping at the first contact of skin on skin.
Hermione rolled on to her side so that they could both explore each other fully, but she couldn't resist the temptation, and pulled Minerva on top of her, relishing the warmth and the weight. Their legs mingled as their lips crashed together, their hands touching every inch of skin they could find.
Minerva pulled away, and quickly fumbled for her wand, shakily pointing it at the door, casting silencing charms and warding it against anyone else entering.
Hermione smiled a wickedly delicious smile, and sent a silent thanks to George, before she forgot that a world outside her bed even existed.
George, for his part, had heard the loud crack of their apparition, and had had the foresight to enter the attic with Andromeda and cast a soundproofing on the entire floor.
Mischief managed he thought smugly.
The End...for you!