Christmas Wishes – PART II/II
It wouldn't be the first night she dreamed of Minerva McGonagall. In fact, Hermione had a lot of dreams about her… and daydreams, but those she tried to always ignore when she could, because they were truly the ideal mix to cause her mind to go right in the gutter when she could occupy it much better. They were rather various, but there was one common factor to them: those dreams always included them at the least kissing passionately, like she might have done with Ron once upon a time, before she realized that they were no good like that. Ron had spoken against it, of course, telling her he loved her and that he really thought they were good together and meant to be… Hermione did loved him lots, but they were too unlike each other to ever manage it as a couple – she feared the war had brought together what shouldn't have been. After a little while of not sharing each other's bed anymore, just behaving like they used to as much as possible, Ron had had to admit that she might have been right. He had met another girl not long after and felt the difference between what he felt for her and what he had for Hermione – this was truly better.
One of the reasons why they had kissed and engaged in sexual actions… but never quite intercourse. Hermione had somehow felt it wasn't entirely right – that it wasn't going to last forever. She used to be the little girl who read fairytales to herself, watched Disney on television. Hermione therefore still somehow believed in a happily ever after despite the great heartache, pain and downright suffering that she had seen yet in her still-young life. Seeing that had of course made her far less naïve, too – that and her own intelligence. She didn't believe in rose gardens, knew that life was not always fair and nice and nothing could be held together if it wasn't meant to be and it didn't come from the both sides. It was one of the reasons why she knew that nothing could ever happen between her and McGonagall.
It made the dreams harder to live with, because no matter how much delight they somehow contained, there were always realizations and rationalizations gnawing at Hermione come morn.
Hermione rolled over in bed, flittering between R.E.M. and a deeper sleep. Tonight was one of these nights where the Headmistress came to her in her sleep unexpectedly – this time rather in the form of a memory slightly altered.
Hermione laid a gentle hand on Minerva's as she saw her look about the office now restored to how it used to be before with her own and the Headmistress's magic. It looked like it had, which appeared to have touched the elder woman deeply. Hermione had never seen the new Headmistress like this. Somehow, she knew memories of times long lost were coursing through her mind. She had seen both Harry and Ron do this at times while on the Horcrux hunt and most often at nightfall. Harry, unlike Ron, would sometimes tell her what he thought about, and no immediately turn away and resume what he had been doing until then – especially when Ron had just left them. Hermione believed it had been a rather unyielding foundation added to their friendship. She didn't dare to ask what Minerva thought about, though. She had no idea. Somehow, it seemed one bridge too far.
Minerva turned to her and smiled weakly, her hand slipping from Hermione's as she already began to the bedrooms and said they better continued. The way her eyes had looked in that moment was an image that Hermione couldn't forget. They seemed to have been spun of emeralds, containing her every emotion for just one second… and it shot straight to Hermione's soul.
Hermione tossed on her back, remembering in her dream how they had gotten to the bedrooms and looked upon all damage – most of it had definitely been done to the content; the room itself had mostly been intact. She remembered how it had looked when they had left, her dream skipping to matter of more relevance…
Minerva McGonagall fell back on the mattress with an 'ooff'. She didn't speak as Hermione moved to straddle her, their pelvises at level as Hermione's knees cradled her slender waist… She bent down to kiss the older woman, feeling her warm hands moving higher slowly on her clad thighs… move to her waist and push her closer as a more skilled tongue overtook and passionately twiddled with her own – fucked it. Hermione's wanted destination was clear, and she was rather determined to get there and deliberately seduce Minerva… make her feel the best she ever would.
It had been a rather long while since Hermione's sleep had been so peaceful, she realized upon waking. The bed somehow felt warmer than it ever had, which was welcome that cold and hazy winter morning. Her eyes opened slowly, and Hermione Jean Granger frowned to herself as she came to from her sleep. It was then she realized by feel more than sight that this wasn't her bedroom at all. In panic yet slowly she pulled her left arm back upon realizing it was draped casually across someone's waist. Her breath hitched as Hermione's mind connected the dots, the smells and other, and told her who that someone was. The smell of almond lingered in Hermione's nose more than ever… belonging to Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress.
Hermione rolled to her back and hastily scrambled into a sitting position, swallowing nervously, trying to get her raging breathing under control. How had she even got there? How was she going to escape without being noticed? Her heartbeat pounded loudly, as if she had run for miles. She never could have guessed it was loud enough even to awake her slumbering sleeping partner entirely, though. As she heard the sheets rustle and moved her gaze to the side to see the witch slightly move, she closed her eyes, just awaiting her fate. In seconds, Minerva would discover her there, and she wouldn't have words for her or herself.
Hermione's breath caught. She tried to hold it in… but couldn't. She was seriously panicking, unable to remember how she had gotten there and why there, why now. She closed her eyes, felt her heart beat severely against her ribcage, easily carrying over the sound of quietly rustling sheets… until suddenly it sounded, "Miss Granger! What are you doing here? How have you gotten here?"
Hermione forced herself to open her eyes and then look open Minerva McGonagall, who had scrambled upright in a half-sitting position, too, on the far very edge of the bed, having pulled the covers to her neck. Hermione couldn't blame her. It couldn't get much more intimate than being in her bed anymore!
Hermione watched as Minerva slowly seemed to collect herself, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes thoughtfully for a moment. "What's the very last you remember?"
"I, uh… I was readying for bed, Professor McGonagall."
Minerva's eyes opened and gazed quietly upon her Seventh Year pupil – greens were tightly squeezed in slits as she drew upon her logical thought, trying to find reason. "The Anti-Apparition wards within Hogwarts were down over night due to immense increase of magic used by the House-Elves and other to ready all for today. Do you believe that could have anything to do with it?"
Hermione felt her blood had gone cold from shock, vague images of last night's dream returning. The pieces of the unsolved puzzle finally fell together. Yet she couldn't reason now, had no clue at all whether this was how she had expected her to react… but she almost wished Professor McGonagall had yelled and sent her away, instead of somehow trying to calm herself through the obvious shock and trying to find how and why. This was one question she couldn't answer. She could not lie to her, especially when those green eyes and that tone seemed so sure, so knowing… almost rhetorical. She couldn't bear to answer it, though. She felt that it would lay her soul bare more than it already was. She couldn't hear her say that she was foolish and couldn't happen in any case – this was Hermione's cue to leave at once. The portraits would find it quite weird, but… Oh, why did she have to pass through there anyway? Why? She couldn't stay there, though. She needed to leave, couldn't bear being in that same room with that same woman anymore. Hermione had never wanted her to know at all, and certainly not like this…
She finally tore her gaze away and made to leave the room and the Tower. She needed to get away, go hide under a rock or whatever large enough. Wasn't it rather curious how a young woman who had seen so much, had fought in a war and the like, could still be made to feel so insecure about matters of the heart? It was still true, though…
"Hermione, stop," a voice came as the far younger witch slid her legs over the edge of the bed, ready to take a run for it. Hermione only barely held back a sob and did as she had been told, going against her instincts. She closed her eyes again as she felt the bed buoy behind her somewhere and then suddenly a presence beside her. "Hermione, will you look at me?" Minerva calmly asked.
Slowly, Hermione lifted her face and let her brown eyes flutter open as she turned her head to look at the Headmistress who had come to sit beside her. She didn't dare to let her gaze trail down no matter how much it desired to. Green connected with hazel, and the younger woman nervously swallowed. She had never learned of any anything like this happening, but then 99% of the time there were Anti-Apparition wards, and the majority of Hogwarts pupils didn't know a lot on how to Apparate. Plus, Hermione Granger doubted that any pupil would have ever thought with that desire about being in McGonagall's bed. For her, it was quite obvious. She saw such great beauty in the older woman; it made such sense. At the same time, she knew it was uncommon for people to see the same beauty she did in a woman Minerva McGonagall's age. Maybe Hermione herself had once upon a time not seen it either, but she didn't remember that time anymore. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It isn't your fault," Minerva said. "I undoubtedly should have anticipated. You've been through a grave enough ordeal this year, and it is absolutely normal even for someone with your intelligence, to go seek solace with someone…"
"It isn't like that," Hermione interrupted – the bad had already prevailed anyway. She had nothing more to lose. Professor McGonagall was already trying to rationalize it, trying to give meaning to it in a way. She didn't know how she would have felt in that same position, what she would have done… but maybe something similar. It undoubtedly sounded very impolite, but still it felt important Minerva knew the whole truth. If she was going to know something of it, then better all of it. "Those feelings have been there for longer; not just from over these last months," Hermione whispered.
Minerva sighed, nodding slightly. Hermione couldn't immediately pinpoint the emotion behind it. "That's what I already feared. It would have been… easier if they had not been. Still, I am your Headmistress and you a pupil under my direct care. I would mean I'm taking advantage of you to only begin with even if I felt the same way. I am in an influential position, which I'm sure you do know…"
"It doesn't matter to me what the rest of the world believe, as long as both you and I knew the truth of it. If– If you had felt the same way." Hermione sighed; her insecurities had overtaken her speech right now. "I hadn't planned on you ever knowing in any way. I knew you wouldn't – couldn't feel even remotely the same for me. First off, you're a woman… and it is understandable enough that you wouldn't be willing to deal with someone so much younger, more naïve and less intelligent, like me. I'm not even half as successful as you in any–"
"Hermione, stop – right there," Minerva spoke and laid her hand upon the younger Gryffindor's gently. She softly squeezed it until Hermione turned her face up again, which she had cast down while speaking. "Hermione, in a world where people perform magic, where dragons still exist, gender and respective ages are of… minor importance. However, you've got to take into consideration that someone of, for instance, my age and someone of, for instance, your age, often need and want differently. That's the hazard, I am afraid."
"How can you know that?" Hermione whispered. "Who knows, we may want the same, entirely or partially so. I have had enough excitement for a lifetime."
Minerva sighed deeply. "Indeed, I can't know that. However, Hermione, you are a beautiful and intelligent young woman. Even if I had not been your superior, I remain an old woman, and you deserve better than me – someone attractive, for instance. There'll be someone you like that way."
Hermione couldn't take it any longer, and a sob escaped her lips. "I am attracted to you…" she whispered, brokenly, tearing her gaze away once more and hiding her face in her hands, no longer able to suppress many tears, no matter how much she would have liked to. This wasn't how she had imagined Christmas morning… at all.
Minerva struggled for several minutes before she wrapped her arm about the younger witch's shoulders, pulling Hermione against her. This would have been so much easier if she herself hadn't felt those feelings develop over the last couple of months now, when they had worked so closely together. Even before, she had been charmed by her beauty and her great intelligence, her modesty about both. She had not only teased Hermione with it when they had been rebuilding… but herself, too. She should have ended it when she could, but then there would have been questions, which Minerva McGonagall wasn't ready to answer yet… She had hoped she could be stronger somehow, but the way her heart ached so irrationally upon seeing Hermione cry, like love was irrational, too, told her that she wasn't. "Please, Hermione, I really hate seeing you cry…"
Hermione slowly shook her head, then stood, turning to Minerva with tear-streaked eyes and red cheeks. "I'm sorry for loving you," she whispered, moving to leave when her arm was gently caught in a tender yet firm grip, making her stop and spin to face the woman sitting on the bed.
Well, fuck it. "Me, too," Minerva whispered, getting upright, taking a hold of Hermione's chin and leaning in to kiss her, take her breath away.
There was no better time to lose the fight and give in to loving than Christmas.
Author's Note: Merry Christmas to everyone!