A/N: I know, I'll get right back to the God Only Knows sequel. But it's just been the kind of weekend, with just the right kind of weather, where a bit of a lark is in order. A pinch more spice than my usually fare, but if you're going to write frippery, why hold back?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hogwarts, and all the characters in this story are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I am borrowing them under the fair-use clause, receiving no tangible compensation from producing this work, and certainly not taking any profits from Warner Brothers by creating it.
Roland Hooch couldn't tell which was giving her more grief: her broken heart or her throbbing head. Both were strongly related. It was only two days ago that Leticia quite suddenly ended their relationship. And while Friday evening had been devoted to their argument, and a subsequent storm of tears, Saturday provided a dangerous opportunity. Halloween fell on a Saturday this year, and Albus Dumbledore, mad old queen that he was, could not resist the chance to have a bit of fancy dress and liquid cheer. This was only Rolanda's first year on staff, and she felt it only polite to mingle with her colleagues, despite her current emotional distress.
Unfortunately, said distress proved veritable rocket fuel when combined with the ubiquitous social lubricant of the evening's festivities. As it so happened, Kettleburn, a devoted quidditch fan and all around wonderful fellow, was on the outs with his lady love as well. The two dove headlong into their cups, and by the end if the night, were trading old drinking songs about the faithlessness of women. Try as she might, Madam Hooch could recollect nothing of the night's events after the last chorus of "Three Drunken Maidens".
Regardless of her physical state, the quidditch equipment had to be checked for the Ravenclaw practice this afternoon. Rolanda steeled herself against the snapping wind and looming clouds and trudged out to the pitch. As she walked, her aching brain kept returning to one particular moment from the night before.
Deputy Headmistress McGonagall had been highly enthusiastic to hire a woman as the flying instructor and quidditch coordinator. From what little she knew of the witch, Hooch could tell that Minerva had no patience for silly things like gender norms and old, stuffy wizards dictating the future of the magical world. When Hooch met with the Board of Governors to sign her contract, she got the impression McGonagall had employed considerable amount of persuasion in their decision. Up until last night, Ro had been so busy settling into her new position, she had not had time to properly thank Minerva for this boon. Early in the evening, Ro moved to Minerva's side, and joined her conversation with Horace Slughorn. The wizard was in full name-dropping form, expounding, in great detail, on the idea that Minerva's class at Hogwarts was one of the most gifted in memory. He was about half way through the Slug-club's roster from that era. Suddenly, Dumbledore slipped by, whispered something in Horace's ear and flounced off. Horace turned beer red, giggled, and breathily excused himself.
Immediately, Minerva released a long-pent-up sigh. "Blessed Merlin, I never thought that man would stop!" She put a finger to her temple to shield her face from the hastily retreating Potions Master. Her eyes darted sideways to Rolanda's. The two women shared an exasperated look, and Minerva chuckles, "you know, I don't think I saw him pause for breath more than once! Ten minutes he rambled on!" Seeing the Headmaster and the Slytherin Head slip out, she muttered, sotto voce, "I hope Albus puts his ability to hold his breath to good use."
Hooch had to keep her mouth from falling open. She had never expected this level of insouciant cheek from former Head Girl Minerva McGonagall. And the conspiratorial grin on Minerva's face was wildly alluring. Roland was beginning to realize how much she had imbibed. "I...I...thank you!" Yes, the alcohol was clearly at work. Minerva raised an eyebrow at her colleague. "I came over here to say thank you for all you did to get me onto the staff."
"Och, that? Madam Hooch, I did that as much out of self-defense as anything!" Her face relaxed into that disarming smile again. Minerva laid a conspiratorial hand on her colleague's shoulder "In case you didn't notice, you, Poppy, Madam Honoré and I are the only women at this party. I had to fight tooth and nail to get Poppy hired as well."
"Call me Ro," She had to fight a giggle, "And after my shoulder injury last season, my quidditch career was at an end, so I am extremely grateful to have a sustainable job as a coach. No respectable league will hire a woman to coach at this point." She sighed.
"Their loss is our gain, Ro," Minerva grinned, "You had quite the career as a Keeper! I'm amazed we were able to snatch you up at all!"
"Well, here's hoping I'm as good at coaching as I am at watching a quaffle. Ravenclaw is in poor form this year, and I'll be damned if I have to watch my house loose the Quidditch Cup ten years in a row. Samuel Rossert has asked for a few pointers next week, to help get the team into shape. Hopefully we'll manage a more respectable record."
"You may improve their game, but no team can beat Gryffindor this year. Yanto Wood is a force to be reckoned with as beater." Minerva teased, "Perhaps you should drill the Ravenclaws on staying out of his way!"
"That's feisty talk for a witch who hasn't set foot on the pitch in over a dozen years. We'll see how they play in a fortnight at the Ravenclaw Gryffindor match!" Rolanda grinned.
She hadn't thought of Leticia once during that conversation. But she did find herself eyeing the Deputy Headmistress' backside as Minerva walked away to refresh her drink.
Her musings were abruptly curtailed as a snitch zipped past her ear, followed by a cackling poltergeist. "PEEVES!" Rolanda bellowed. Enraged, she rushed to the equipment room to see what misery the monster had inflicted on her muddled mind.
The door to the equipment room was flung open. Two score brooms were whacking at each other, and at least a dozen bludgers were being sent asunder by animated beater's bats. Another snitch made for the door. Rolanda snatched it with a speed that spoke of conditioned reflexes. As she clutched the snitch, the flying instructor debated: should she dive into this hullabaloo by herself, and risk being knocked unconscious, or should she seek the aid of her fellow staff members? Slamming the door shut to stop a bludger headed her way, Hooch decided on the latter solution. She was dashing toward the main castle, when she say the unmistakable green of the Deputy Headmistress' robes marching towards her.
"Do you need assistance, Madam Hooch?" Minerva called over the distance. Rolanda winced both at the formal address and the unpleasant volume of the Deputy Headmistress' voice.
"Please, call me Ro. And yes, how did you know?"
"I was out trying it get a bit of fresh air." Rolanda noted that Minerva's complexion was a bit green, and her eyes were bleary. "I encountered Peeves. He told me of his welcome gift to you." Rolanda saw Minerva glance at the snitch still clutched in Rolanda's hand. "I assumed you could use a bit of help."
"Thank you!" Rolanda sighed. The two women made quick work of the calamity, until the last beater's bat avoided capture and cracked Minerva on the nose.
"Sweet Circe's arse!" The witch swore, trying to stop the bleeding, as her peer tackled the errant bat.
"Are you alright, Professor McGonagall?" Rolanda automatically asked as she turned back to Minerva, "Of course you're not. Hold still!" She pointed her wand at Minerva's bent nose, and after a moment of silent concentration, the nose snapped back into place. Minerva yelped at the unexpected pain. "I feel terrible! You have to come back to my quarters and let me take care of you! I've had my share of broken noses, and know just the thing to cheer one up afterwards." She quickly used a spell to get most of the blood off Minerva's robe.
Mineva eyed her for a moment, "I suppose I am in no state to get work done today." She sighed and followed Rolanda out, "And Rolanda, it's Minerva, all right?" Her grin was more of a wince, but the flying instructor was willing to take it.
The skies made good on their earlier threat and opened up on the witches as they made their way back to the castle. Rolanda caught a groan from her companion, and both witches picked up their pace. By the time they reached the doors of the school, they were soaked to the skin. They cast a quick drying charm on their robes, and made their way to Hooch's quarters. Seemingly without reason, Rolanda's hand was shaking a tiny bit as she pushed open the door to her sitting room. Thankfully, the trembling had stopped by the time Rolanda was pouring whiskey into tumblers.
"Whisky?" Minerva laughed, "That's your broken-nose cure-all?" Her right eyebrow was raised nearly to her hairline. But the glint in her eye was playful, if not completely seductive. She removed her outer professor's robes, which were still a bit damp, and sat on the plaid loveseat in a simple forest green robe that had a lovely plunging neckline.
"You doubt me?" Hooch quipped, removing her teaching robe as well. She was chastising herself for not wearing something nicer, but her khaki breeks and tatty red jumper would have to suffice. She alighted on the armchair opposite Minerva and ran a quick hand through her wind blown haystack of hair.
The conversation began simply. Rolanda Hooch related the four times she had had her nose broken while playing quidditch, and the aftermath of each of those occasions. By the end of the fourth tale, both women were laughing quite heartily, and were on their third glass of whisky. Hooch had no idea how they had gotten so far along in the afternoon. The first glass was only polite, but the second glass made the remnants of her hangover vanish. And as she stood to refill the glasses for the third time, she could have sworn she caught McGonagall eyeing her in a certain way.
"So, tell me, Minerva," Hooch used her coworker's given name for the first time, "I'm newly single. What are the dating prospects like in this neck of the woods?"
Minerva, her face still wreathed in mirth from the last story, gave a sad chuckle. "About as dismal as you'd expect." She leaned back against the couch and gazed into her drink, "I haven't seen someone socially in over a year. And I've only been at Hogwarts for three."
"A gorgeous witch like you?" Hooch's opening volley did not go unnoticed. Minerva's eyes briefly narrowed, as if to zoom in on Ro's intention. "Surely you've managed to garner the attention of few interested parties?"
"Sadly, Ro," the way Minerva's Scottish r's rolled over her lips filled Hooch with the urge to kiss her. "That is not quite the case. When a woman is locked away at a school with a bunch of older men, people start to make assumptions, even when half those men quite obviously play for the wrong quidditch team, so to speak." The raven haired witch swirled her glass and sighed, "And those that don't assume I'm bedding my colleagues assume I'll leave my career and immediately start popping out little ones as soon as they pop the question!" Minerva took a swig of her drink. A droplet of the amber liquid remained at the corner of her mouth. Being slightly tipsy, she simply swiped at it with her long, spindly index finger. She then promptly licked her finger, and looked teasingly up at Hooch, green eyes crackling with an untamable energy. Rolanda was gob smacked.
"And your love life... How is it, Ro?" Minerva asked.
Closing her mouth, and forcing herself to focus, Rolanda was barely able to respond, "Currently wide open..." She had never been so completely taken by a dark-haired woman before. Leticia, and her predecessors had been blonde, with the occasional ginger (Holy Prospero, Ariadne Prewett was a wonder!). "I mean, I finally have a bit more time year-round to devote to a special someone, so I don't plan to let my current location put an end to my romantic endeavors, Minerva."
"Yes, well, babysitting a castle full of children tends to be a bigger handicap than estimated." Minerva polished off the glass, and stood to fill it again. Her robes flowed so seductively against her breasts as she stood, Rolanda found herself standing up and following her over to the liquor cabinet.
"I suppose that is quite the encumbrance." Ro muttered, watching the woman as she poured.
Minerva must have misjudged the distance between them, because when she turned, her whiskey glass caught Rolanda in the arm, and immediately splashed across both women's clothes.
"Your breeks!" Minerva lamented, her fingers ghosting over the thigh of the now-stained trousers.
"Your dress didn't fare too well, either." Rolanda noticed that the stain ran handily across the professor's chest. It was too much. She brushed her fingers over the damp gown, take special care to brush the slightly peaked left nipple. "You should get it to a house elf straight away!"
"I know just the elf for the job!" She murmured, but she pulled at Rolanda's soaked breeks, "Fingly will make short work of these stains."
Minerva summoned the elf, and within moments, both witches were alone on the love seat, in their knickers and brasseries. Rolanda saw her opening
"Your brasserie is a bit stained as well, I think I can get this one out, though. It isn't as bad!" She ran another adoring hand over the lacy cup, now pointed in arousal. "I'll help you get it off." And turning to Minerva's back, she began a very drunken attempt at undressing the Deputy Headmistress. After a moment, Minerva reached back to still her wrist. Afraid she had crossed a line, Rolanda looked to the witch's face, and saw a gleeful smile.
"For a lesbian, you're not very skilled at undressing women, Ro." And she finished the job with a seductive flourish. The bra discarded, Rolanda began to slowly explore the broad, alabaster plain of Minerva's back. Her lips caressed her prominent shoulder blades, the delicate ridge of her spine, and finally, all the way up to the nape of her neck. When Rolanda leaned around to gently bite the side of Minerva's ear, she could hear Minerva panting. She paused to face Minerva. Hooch had to make sure there was not a hint of regret in those gorgeous emerald eyes.
"Is this..." She whispered.
Minerva instantly dove for Rolanda's neck, and sloppily kissed her way up to whisper. "Don't you dare stop, Rolanda Hooch."
And that was the end of coherent conversation. From there on out, small sighs and gasps were heard from both parties as they inched over each other's bodies, delighting in the ripple of every muscle, the tenderness of every curve. To Rolanda's surprise, it was Minerva who dragged her to the bedroom. The lanky witch draped herself seductively across the midnight-blue bedspread, and ran a hand slowly down her body, until it came to rest casually over her center. Rolanda grinned like a hormone-ridden fifth year. She dove onto the bed next to Minerva, and began to suck and nip at her delicate the coral-colored nipples. Minerva ran a roughly caressing hand down Rolanda's backside, ending in a firmly kneading grasp of the witch's heavily muscled arse. Her moans were all the encouragement Rolanda needed.
She moved down the taut white belly, passed the patch of black curls, kissing her way down. When Ro finally reached her goal, she began to practice her alphabet. The positive results were nearly instantaneous. Minerva was now firmly grasping Rolanda's hair. She howled as her legs first tightened around her partner's head and then began to tremble as she crashed into orgasm. Hooch sat up, grinning as she wiped her runny reward from her chin.
Minerva, however, was far from done. In a flash, she had pulled Ro up to straddle her face. The lush ruby lips rubbed teasingly against Ro's nearly dripping center. Finally, McGonagall's tongue slipped out to probe Ro's lower lips. In a sudden, quick thrust, her tongue was sheathed in her partner, thrusting in a synchronized rhythm with Minerva's hands, which were pumping Ro's hips in time. Just as Hooch threw her head back at the start of orgasm, Minerva switch up to the throbbing bead just a few inches away. Tentatively, she sucked the pink nub into her mouth. Her gamble played off, as Rolanda grasped the headboard, riding the forceful orgasm that ripped through her.
But Rolanda would not stop until Minerva McGonagall was yelling her name in that blessed brogue. She moved to Minerva's side, summoning a curious metal device with two hoops connected by a chain. Minerva looked up, wiping her own mouth.
"What in Merlin's name?" She started to laugh. But Rolanda snapped one of the loops around her wrist.
"A muggle invention. One of my exes introduced me to these lovely little beauties. Muffles think of the strangest things," Rolanda's grin widened, as Minerva comprehended.
"Alright, Ro." She raised one skeptical eyebrow. "But you had better make this worth it."
"Just be patient!" It was almost nothing for Ro to shift Minerva's lithe body to stretch across the bed diagonally. With the handcuffs secured around a bedpost, and Minerva sufficiently intrigued, Ro moved back between Minerva's legs. She spent a full five minutes gently running her nimble, snitch-catching fingers around the edges of Minerva's center, occasionally brushing over her still-swollen pearl. Minerva's gasps finally began to grow.
"Mmmmm...Ro..." Minerva moaned, she thrust her hips erratically up. "Don't make me beg!" She whined.
"You begging? Minerva McGonagall, Head Girl, Dumbledore's pet, youngest known animagus, and Deputy Headmistress begging to be fucked? Merlin forbid!" She laughed. Her fingers danced deftly over Minerva's clit.
"Rolanda, please!" Minerva shouted, straining against the handcuffs.
That was all Ro needed, swiftly, she buried three fingers into Minerva's sopping center, and began to thrust with the accuracy, speedy, and strength only an athlete could sustain. Minerva screamed encouragement in a shrill brogue.
"Oh, good Godric! Don't stop! Fuck me! Fuck... Me! Fuck... Merlin! Iontach, álainne!" And Rolanda realized that Minerva had lapsed into a fevered Gaelic. The syllables continued to roll off Minerva's tongue, until finally, she yelled, "Trócaire, Rolanda!" Satisfied, Rolanda took her other hand from Minerva's hip and fiddled with clit. Minerva's release was loud, long, and wonderful to behold.
Releasing Minerva from the handcuffs, Ro gently kissed the insides of her wrists. Completely sated, Minerva and Rolanda nestled down under the blankets, wrapped in each other's arms.
As she kissed Minerva's collarbone, Rolanda contemplated, sometimes the best thing for what ails you is the hair of the dog that bit you.
A/N: I know. I know. I'll get back to work now.