Pomona Sprout thought Ginny Weasley was probably the person least like her in the world: where she was short and plump, Ginny was tall and lean. Where she had short white hair, Ginny's flamed red halfway down her back. Where Pomona was known as quiet and maybe a little slow (she was no Professor Snape, that was for sure), Ginny's reputation was that of a fiesty lioness with a mind at least as sharp as her claws. It was no wonder, then, that Pomona found herself a little infatuated.
Of course, when one was a Hogwarts teacher, one kept such things to oneself. Pomona allowed herself to watch the girl during class times, bustling up cheerfully next to her to see how her pruning or potting or planting was going. Once she allowed herself to watch Ginny's long, lean fingers as she pulled vines to herself and snapped them off. Pomona thought about those fingers alone in her quarters that evening, wondering how they would feel sliding into her, stroking her, making her come.
But of course, Ginny was dating the Boy Who Lived, and the romance between the two of them was talked about around the castle as fated. "Finally, finally that Potter boy has seen the treasure that was in front of him all along!" crowed Vector one evening at dinner, when Ginny and Harry made quite an amorous show of entering the Great Hall. Pomona laughed, said "Indeed, indeed," glad for her ruddy complexion that hid the blushes she felt creeping to her face whenever she saw the pair together.
One night, when the entire castle was still in mourning over the Headmaster's death, still pulling itself together after a terrible night of battle and betrayal, Pomona heard a small sniffling. She was in Greenhouse three, trying to coax some flowers back to life. They had sagged and shriveled immediately after the Headmaster's death, but she was tired of all the darkness. She didn't fully understand the war that was going on, or the whole Voldemort business. All she knew was that she needed to surround herself with living things. She was used to those living things being plants, so the little sounds coming from the back of the greenhouse surprised and intrigued her.
"Hello? Anyone there?" Pomona called, scanning the dark greenhouse a little tensely. Though she wasn't really afraid of those Death Eater people, as she had no business with them and was a pureblood, she was still on edge after Severus had turned so suddenly, had fooled them all. She didn't want to be the next of his victims, so she pulled her wand as she made her way to the back of the long, low building. Back here the foliage was thicker, and the night-blooming flowers had come out. She heard another sound, to the left. That was definitely human, and female. It sounded like someone was crying. Pomona knew that the hidden corners of the greenhouse were good for a good cry now and then; she had done the same herself many an evening. But if this was a student, she ought to be safe in bed.
Pomona lifted a curtain of morning glory vines from the corner where she heard the sound. Her heart stopped as she took in the flame of hair, striking against the blue-green color of the vines in moonlight.
"Gin -- Miss Weasley? Is that you?" Ginny turned a splotchy, tear-stained face toward Pomona, nodding slowly.
"I'm -- I'm sorry, Professor Sprout. I know I should--shouldn't be here, but...but...." Her face contorted and she drew in a shaky breath as if to let out a loud sob, but Pomona was on her knees, pulling Ginny towards her before she could cry.
"There, there. It's all right. We're all shaken up by what happened, it's fine to cry," Pomona said as she scooped Ginny's muscular body towards her softness. Ginny flung an arm around her, buried her head in Pomona's shoulder right above the pillow of her breast. They rocked like this for a few moments until Ginny's breathing became more regular. Pomona thought that both of them might fall asleep right there.
"It's not about that," Ginny mumbled into Pomona's shoulder. "That's why I'm here, I didn't want to make a scene when everyone else is so upset."
"What do you mean?" Pomona sat back onto her wide bottom, Ginny still clinging to her. She leaned back and rested against the greenhouse wall, thrilling at the sight of her short legs tangled with Ginny's long, muscular ones.
"I mean I'm not upset about -- about Dumbledore. I mean I am!" Ginny added quickly, moving so she could look up into Pomona's face. Pomona gazed down at her, put on her best matronly smile and hoped it was enough to disguise the pure lust in her eyes. "It's just...it's just Harry." Ginny said flatly, sighing and resting her head on Pomona's shoulder again. This time, Sprout noticed, her head was nearly on her breast. She wondered if Ginny noticed exactly how hard her heart was beating, or how fast.
"What about Harry?"
"He broke up with me. Can you believe it? He thinks I'm too young or too inexperienced or something. What bollocks."
Sprout could hardly believe her ears. Was Ginny Weasley telling her she was a virgin? And that Harry Potter had rejected her because of it? Pomona had a few ideas of things she could teach the girl. But of course, she was quiet Pomona, slow Sprout. She stayed quiet, just rocked the girl and hummed a little. Before she knew it, Ginny was asleep. Pomona told herself that she couldn't just leave the girl in the greenhouse. If Minerva found out, she'd have Pomona's hide. So she told herself that snuggling next to that firm body, those slim hips with just a hint of taper to the waist, those long muscular thighs -- all that was just her duty as a good teacher. Pomona drifted to sleep happier than she'd been in a long while.