Hello readers!
We do hope you're enjoying our reworked fic. As it would be, there is a song reference within this chapter that, if you should so want to listen to it, would be found by researching Sara Bareilles's amazing original song from the musical released in 2015 'Waitress'. The song is called She Used To Be Mine.
We hope you enjoy and thank you all for coming on the ride with us!
Chapter 9: In My Capable Hands
Ground rules: Touch was permitted. Not obvious touch, not public groping and the like, but simple affections were tolerable. Nothing needed to be explained or stated, for it was no one's business but their own. Announcing it to the world wasn't required because, at the end of the day, it was incredibly new. Terms of endearment, although not entirely accustomed to in public by the ebony haired woman, were permitted. She would allow it. Aside from that, there was little more that Minerva decided to lay down for Hermione to pick up.
Respectful, courteous, as always, when Hermione asked her if she had boundaries, she produced that small list. The tanned woman listened intently, nodding her head, offering words of encouragement and agreement. They didn't reach out and touch, taste, or quickly jump at the opportunity to enter into a physical relationship even though it had been decided that they were going to try seeing one another, and see where such involvement led. Neither woman felt that the environment granted that sort of opportunity when they had friends below waiting for them to return. That didn't mean, however, that there was no desire to do so.
Holding to the crook of Hermione's inner elbow, once the conversation and decisions had been made, she let the woman lead her back to the wilds of the party down below. Upon re-entry into the tent, they noticed that, as the band played casual dinner music, many people were eating or finished eating. Hermione leaned close to her ear and expressed that they may need to seek out their own little party a bit more closely, the difficulty being the sheer amount of people. No doubt, Minerva thought, as they casually made their round along the edge of the room.
Outward appearance lended to the idea that the Headmistress was quite relaxed. Her soft smile and regal posture certainly masked the explosive urge in the pit of her stomach. She reviewed their conversation and Hermione's most apt questioning of her personal public parameters with close examination and realized that this remarkable author was treating her… For lack of a more fancified word, like a lady. Something that she hadn't yet realized, what deeply intrigued her, was that the woman who led her onward about the room, often adopted a subtle gentlewomanly air about her in such circumstances. She'd never noticed it because it was the first time she'd been subject to it. By doing so much as ensuring her soon-to-be-lover had the chance to set rules of public engagement, she gifted Minerva autonomy. Not something that every partner was willing to do as soon as it was decided they were now entering into that sort of personal affair. It was… Actually, quite new for the Scottish witch as well.
The women who she had dated - she used that term incredibly loosely -, had often been younger, like Hermione. They had often been stricken with infatuation and want of her, most of that infatuation being due to status and physicality. And it was the Headmistress who demanded certain attention, who took up that gentlewomanly mantle with passionate authority, not ever the other way round. Not with such ease as Hermione, in fact, had those minutes ago out in the night air. It was… Quite attractive.
As they took their turn about the far end of the room and began to stroll along its opposite side, Hermione stopped a waiter who was heading in the opposite direction, asking her whether or not she'd like a glass of champagne. With her mouth as dry as it was, Minerva simply gave a nod of the head and brief smile. She was passed a flute, Hermione took one in hand as well, and they continued onward for a brief moment before a loud whistling, so sharp that they instinctively aimed a glance toward. Hermione saw Todd withdrawing his hand from his mouth and wave them over.
They had found their company, or, at least, their company had noticed them.
The women parted and Hermione gestured for Minerva to lead on between tables. Naturally, Minerva did so with ease, granting Hermione the most spectacular view of the woman's shoulder blades and the nape of her neck. Unknown to the Headmistress, the raging urges she felt in the pit of her stomach were mirrored by the brown eyed woman who couldn't help but to focus heavily on the skin her eyes were afforded. How Hermione longed to kiss that place along the back of her shoulders, the base of her neck… Such bliss could be found along that soft skin that Hermione couldn't find a coherent thought. That was until the voices of their friends entered into mind.
"We saved you two some dinner! Ginny kept it warm for you," Lydia called over the din of conversation. "With a mother's touch, of course."
"And a wand." The ginger smirked at the dark skinned woman. When they approached the table, it went noticed but unspoken when Hermione brushed past Minerva and pulled out a chair for the Headmistress to slip down upon. She seated herself, afterward, in the empty chair beside the woman and between the ebony haired witch and Luna.
"How is it out there tonight?" Todd asked, now knowing the whole story.
"A bit cool but lovely, thank Merlin." Hermione replied, taking a sip of her champagne before placing it down ahead of her plate.
The conversation flowed with ease as the pair of women were given the opportunity to fill their empty stomachs. No one mentioned the reason for their absence. Settling into drinks and the meal, any awkwardness washed away as conversation gave way to stories and laughter. And although Lydia and Todd weren't from their graduating class, they had stories of their own to share. They seemed to hit it off easily with Neville and Luna and Harry and Ginny, Hermione being the bridge between them. Minerva and Lydia, as usual, easily found themselves victims of wicked humor. They had met many times during Hermione's Mastery, being that, at the time, Hermione and she were living together, a time that had built some rapport.
Soon enough, empty plates were pushed forward and eventually cleared by staff, small trays of desserts appearing on tables shortly thereafter. Although coffee was certainly an option, Hermione voted for the champagne to keep flowing. Something that Lydia could only smirk about. She must have needed it.
"We were talking," Harry leaned in to keep the conversation somewhat private, not that anyone was listening. "We are thinking of bailing and just writing some cheques... "
"Oh, yesss…" Luna whispered, her blue eyes shining with excitement as eyes turned toward the ebony haired witch and her partner.
"And doing what, exactly, Mr. Potter?" Minerva asked, feeling an arm lay down to drape behind her along the back of her chair. She held her glass of champagne aloft and raised a brow. Hermione remained silent, watching the exchange with interest.
"There's a new little pub in Ottery St. Catchpole, just opened up… They do this thing called Karaoke, we were thinking our group could move over there and have more of an us night? What do you girls think?" Neville piped up, his brilliant smile and brows raising in question. Ginny wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin and eyed Hermione, who glanced at the side of Minerva's face.
"What is it?" The Headmistress's brows somewhat furrowed in interest. It wasn't a denial of the invitation but it wasn't something she'd heard of before.
"People choose songs, they go up on a little stage, and sing along without the vocals behind it... " Lydia offered by way of explanation. "I vaguely recall our dear literary friend being rather good at such a thing."
Green eyes cast themselves at the side of tanned features with an arched brow. Hermione only peered at Lydia with a thinly veiled look of warning and amusement.
"Harry loves it too." Ginny chuckled lightly as she affectionately patted the side of his blushing face.
"I like music…" He mumbled, reaching for his glass of wine.
Finally, Hermione angled her head toward the Headmistress and offered a slightly apprehensive little smile. Their eyes met.
"What do you say, love… Stay or go?" She asked softly, her thumb lightly, briefly, brushing the back of Minerva's bare shoulder. The touch was so minimal, so light, yet, it remained long after it vanished.
"Who knows the next time we'll all be able to get together… It is closer to your place…" Even though her tone bore trepidation, her eyes searched those of brown for hesitation in equal amounts. She found very little. In fact, what she found was that little glimmer of spontaneity that she so adored at the prospect of having their night take on a different course. It was one of the things she loved the most about the author, something that didn't seem to have lessened in recent years.
"That is true," Hermione aimed her sights upon the table and the pairs of eyes waiting for an answer. "Alright, shall we get out our pocketbooks and go there? Neville, you know where it is?"
"Absolutely!" Neville beamed as he reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat for his cheque book. His wife leaned over to lay her cheek against Hermione's shoulder for a second in appreciation.
"It'll be marvelous." The blond giggled, excitement lacing her syllables.
It seemed to be decided. They produced their cheque books and began to write out their donations to various organizations. Of course, Hermione donated mostly to the arts while Minerva donated mostly to the educational programs. Once all was said and done, the group began to rise from their seats, leaving their table to give their offered amounts to the heads of those organizations with plans to meet outside where they would apparate away into the night and to the small town.
Hermione couldn't say she was terribly disappointed to leave the party earlier than expected. She almost forgot what it had been like to be surrounded by liquor fueled loudness. A smaller venue where they could actually enjoy each other's company more closely, less restrictively, sounded far more appealing. At the very least, they would be able to let loose a little. The additional thought of seeing the Headmistress in a venue outside her comfort zone did also sweeten the deal.
Meeting out on the lawn, it took a little bit of time for everyone to arrive. Once everyone was accounted for, they settled on a place of apparation and decided where to meet. One by one, the couples disappeared with a pop to rejoin at the target location, however, the author and the Headmistress lingered for a moment.
Wrapping her coat a bit more tightly around her shoulders, the green eyed witch appraised the brunette.
"If in the event that it's not a place where we want to linger for long, what would you propose we do?" She asked lightly, eyeing the tall woman who hummed thoughtfully, the expression on her face hard to read through the darkness and the dimness of moonlight.
"Well, as you said, it is closer to my house… We could go home together and you could apparate back to Hogwarts from my place," She ventured to say, offering the woman an out if she should so choose to take it. "Or…" The woman furthered, reaching with a delicate touch, her thumb brushing the angled chin of the woman watching her quite closely. "You could simply come home with me, stay the night, or allow me to grab an overnight bag and we could return to Hogwarts together… The decision is yours."
Minerva felt the pad of Hermione's thumb linger on her skin, a hum rising in the back of her throat, thoughtful with consideration.
"We shall see." She found herself replying, her voice dropping immeasurably. The smallest of affections Hermione offered - the touch to her shoulder, the touch to her chin - making it all the more difficult to draw up reasons why not to allow this woman to spend the night in her bed. Still, would it have been considered far too soon?
"Of course, my darling Headmistress… No pressure at all." The author smirked lightly, dropping her hand to the other woman's, lacing their fingers before asking if she was ready to leave. Giving a nod of the head, Minerva allowed Hermione to jointly apparate them both to Ottery St Catchpole. Regardless of who it was, joint apparation never felt good. Luckily, it was over with a swiftness.
The lights lining the street, the store fronts long since having turned their signs to closed for the night, left nothing for most town goers. The only places that seemed to still be teaming with crowds were restaurants, pubs, and lounges.
Their group looked slightly out of place with how well dressed they all were. Because of that, and the fill of wine and champagne they had had, the amusement ran high. Joking, laughing, talking loudly as though they were still surrounded by a large mass of people, the couples walked down the sidewalk, led by Neville and Luna, towards their destination. People who watched them walk passed wore curious looks, looks of wonderment, although they hardly noticed due to their own slightly tipsy, rather scattered, conversation.
Minerva was somewhat quiet. With her mind being tugged in various directions, it made it hard to keep up with most of them. Hermione, however, was quite invested. All the while, the brunette held to the hand laced with her own as though she had always held that hand. The warmth against her palm drew with it her gaze, glancing on occasion to the Headmistress who seemed glad to just be there, listening, as they wandered through the quiet town.
When they finally arrived at the pub nearing the end of the town, a heavy door was pushed open and granted the group entry down into a comfy looking local bar. The walls were adorned with various little neon signs of beer and spirits on tap, pictures, little maps of the area, and decorative knick-knacks. Immediately, Hermione felt comfortable. The floor, despite the newness of the establishment, was already scratched by the moving of chairs and tables. The barman shouted welcome, as, up on stage, a rather young looking man sang a song that was familiar, but, then… Not at all. He sang to his own small group of friends, they looked very young, and seemed to be enjoying their friends rendition of whatever song was being sung. It wasn't, by any means, packed. Some people sat in booths, very few at the bar, although, and ultimately, it seemed to be a very slow night. Ordering drinks to continue on enjoying their night as they had been, the couples paid then asked if they could pull some tables together. The bartender waved a waitress over to help them along, allowing them to do just that, seeing the size of their party. The boys made off and let the women linger behind, watching as they made a set up for them to seat themselves at. Once all was said and done, they all gathered round and found their chairs.
They watched people get up and sing, they chatted idly among themselves, laughed, and settled into a relaxed evening. Minerva sat closely with her brunette lover, she let her hand fall easily to rest upon Hermione's leg. Being as Minerva had never seen such a thing, she asked questions about what Karaoke was about, when Hermione had first seen it, herself, and the woman explained that it all had to do with university days. Although Hermione didn't go out often, she would accompany Lydia on the rarest of occasions to the bar with Todd - as potential back up when they had first started dating - and their group of friends. His friends loved karaoke, mostly a tool utilized to impress girls at school. Clearly, something which worked as they had gotten married very shortly before graduation from university. Minerva ahh'd softly and found herself chuckling as Hermione began to further tell her stories about those days. Knowing what she knew now, for Hermione to go out to a bar seemed out of place. But, also, seeing how protective Hermione was over the years with her dear friend, it made much more sense.
"So, Harry… Going to sign yourself up?" Todd called over the group and down to the green eyed fellow who laughed and looked at his wife.
"Depends on whether this one will let me make a fool out of myself." Ginny eyed her husband with suspicion as he addressed her, sipping her drink.
"And all the headlines will read The Boy Who Cleared Out The Pub In Five Minutes," She teased him, causing a pinkish hue to light the apples of his cheeks as the group snickered. "Go on, love… Do your Potter thing."
He didn't have to be told twice, despite his slight self consciousness, he'd had just enough to drink that he didn't care who he cleared out the pub. Hermione drew up a hand and combed it back through her hair, the weight of it, the alcohol flooding her veins, bringing a flush to creep up the sides of her neck.
"How about you, babe?" Lydia called over to the other brunette, as Luna snuggled into her husband's side and flashed her a look.
"I've never heard you sing…" Luna mentioned, her features adorning that familiar dreamy look as she thought back on their school years.
Hermione glanced at Minerva then the blond down the table.
"You have."
"No I haven't, I'd remember that."
"Are you sure you would, Luna?"
"She remembers bloody everything, it's sickening." Neville added his two scents as he lifted his pint to his lips, garnering himself a small slap to his leg.
"I'd make your ears bleed worse than Harry." The brunette announced, although she briefly eyed the piano on the stage. It seemed they either had a bar band or some music that was played, probably on weekdays, as there, behind the singer, were unused instruments.
"Now that is a bold faced bloody lie." Stated Lydia with partially drunken enthusiasm, aiming a finger at the author who was being smirked at by her lover, who had no real clue as to Hermione's musical prowess, if she housed any at all. At this, Minerva was intrigued. Being out of her comfort zone, and seeing Hermione quickly being thrust out of her own, was interesting, to say the least.
"Lydia… You're drunk." Hermione chuckled upon Harry's return, the man looking rather pleased with himself.
"If you don't sign up, I will sign you up." Not dropping the topic, eyes around the table bounced like they were watching a tennis match between the darker skinned women. Lydia's eyes showed a similar defiance to what Hermione's bore themselves. It was like watching sisters squabble.
"Lydia…" Her voice carried with it notes of warning that absolutely no effect on the woman down the table. Todd simply draped his arm around the back of his wife's chair, not in any way about to intrude on the two women's back and forth as he'd often been told to close his mouth when doing so. He just smirked.
It was at this time that Hermione felt the hand on her leg squeeze gently. Brown eyes turned upon those of green who had watched the back and forth with silent amusement.
"Now I don't believe I have ever heard you sing… Which, I think, I'd very much like to see." Minerva remarked with an arched brow, her rouge coloured lips adorning themselves with a half smile. Hermione felt her stomach drop. Perhaps, this wasn't exactly the best idea after all. A request from Lydia, she could easily ignore. A request from the Headmistress, however, was not so easy to deny… Especially not when the woman's emerald gaze fluttered from her lips to her eyes in that way they did when she knew she was going to get what she wanted from the brunette, whether Hermione liked it or not.
"Et tu, Minerva…" Hermione sighed, shaking her head in defeat. "Alright… Alright… Fine, but you… You owe me very big. So big." The brunette mumbled as she pushed back her chair and began to rise, the hand on her leg slipping to its owner's lap.
"That's my girl!" Lydia called after her as she began to squeeze down the edge of the table, affording her gleeful friend, much to Minerva's surprise, a flash of the middle finger. Lydia just took it as even more of a joke, laughing as she rubbed her hands together.
"Is she any good?" Ginny asked when Hermione was out of earshot, leaning on the table, her arms crossing on its surface as she eyed the dark skinned woman down at its other end. Todd nodded emphatically as he drew the straw of his drink between his lips.
Treading toward the side of the stage, a witch sat there next to a chalkboard. Hermione felt her nervousness inflate with every click of her heels against hardwood.
"Signing up?" The blue eyed girl asked, eyeing the brunette and her attire. Her gaze lingered on Hermione's tie for a minute, then rose.
"Unfortunately… My so-called friends think I should." She muttered as she reached for a piece of chalk in the tray beside the board. She wrote her name beneath Harry's and noted that he was singing a Muggle song… An 80's Muggle song. It made the corner of her lips curl.
"What are you going to be singing, Miss…" The woman leaned forward to read her name. "Hermeee-one? Herm-eye…"
"Her-moy-nee" She filled in, watching the witch nod her head and test the name on her tongue.
"Gotcha… What can we do for you? I'm Lucy, by the way… I host our Karaoke on Saturdays, every second Saturday." Hermione gave a nod as she listened, her eyes drifting to the stage alongside them and the piano sitting there.
"If it's alright, could I maybe just use that instrument… Rather than having the back up audio, I can play… Proficiently." She asked with trepidation, her fingers itching.
"Sure, just, please, put it back after." The girl answered dismissively, through a bored little smile.
"Alright, thanks…" Hermione replied before turning around and strolling slowly back to the bar, a pit stop before returning to the table, needing a bit more liquid courage by way of filled shot glasses. She ordered. She ordered a lot. Far more than she should have, which included a fair few trays costing more money than she might have liked spending. But, she had company.
Needless to say, no one expected a waitress to return to the table with her, balancing two trays of short thin glasses of various spirits and liquor.
It was partial payback, partial requirement, and partially because she just wanted everyone to get on her level. And her level was going to be comfortably drunk as her nervousness, her self consciousness, and racing heartbeat began to swell in her chest. The ebony haired woman returned her hand to rest on her thigh, rubbing the muscle beneath the thin layer of fabric, soothingly.
Reaching for shot glasses, the small group toasted to a wonderful night, good friends, and fabulous entertainment before throwing back various ounces of liquor.
It certainly was turning out to be a strange and wondrous evening.
By the time it was Harry's turn to go up on stage and sing along to We Built This City, his friends were well on their way to being utterly bombed. They yelled and hollered over one another, clapping him on the back if they could reach, until he jumped that two feet up in front of the raised platform. As always, even though fueled by many shots, he wasn't sloppy or unaware of himself. Ginny laughed and had to lift her hand to her forehead, seeing his pinkened face grinning across the empty dance floor at them who turned in their seats to watch the dark haired fellow sing.
A quick beat and music erupted from speakers, paving the way for him to grab the microphone from its stand and sing.
Minerva leaned close to Hermione's ear, her lips almost brushing against brunette locks.
"Seems to be you're next… Nervous?" Though their eyes watched Harry closely as the fellow in his navy suit kept beat with the music with his heel, his voice, untrained and only the slightest bit pitchy flooding the room. Hermione dipped her head somewhat closer to the Headmistress.
"If you had to sing in front of me, wouldn't you be nervous?" She asked softly, watching as their friends in their jubilance pumped the air with their fists or drinks, singing along with him while they shared in quiet conversation, unknown to the rest.
"I don't sing… So, certainly," Admitted the green eyed woman whose nails were tracing the inner seam of her trouser leg, stilled. "You could have said no, Miss. Granger…"
Hermione laid her hand on top of the one on her leg and gave it a squeeze.
"Saying no to Lydia is easy, but to you… I doubt I'll ever be able to say no to you again." The author lifted that hand to her lips and pressed a firm kiss to the back of it. Finally, they shared a glance, listening to the end of Harry's song and turning their attention back to the man, in all his glory, having the time of his life with his friends supportive chair dancing and clapping. As final notes blared over speakers, his crowd found themselves rising from their chairs and giving him his due applause.
Minerva repeated Hermione's words in her mind, folding over them. A shadow of an expression past over her features for the briefest of moments. Sometimes… It was alright to say no. Sometimes no was needed. Deeply affected remained the brunette woman who, with her sweet words and frequently implied adoration, seemed to aim to give Minerva any whim she so desired. Any request… It would be a conversation for another day. Hermione need not bend herself over backwards, she need not contort into an impossible mould for Minerva to love her. She deserved to know that much.
Leaning toward her, the author gave Minerva's cheek a chaste, although tender, kiss and began to squeeze behind Luna and Neville toward the stage where, along the dance floor, she passed Harry who gave her a sharp high five, grinning.
"Go get 'em, gal." He chuckled, the wildness in his eyes telling her his adrenaline was still at its peak. She smiled, although her legs felt jellied by the bundle of nerves in her chest.
"I'm just going to draw it over a bit," Hermione announced to the host who just gave a dismissive nod, hardly caring to watch as the brunette withdrew her wand from a loop attached to the side of her trousers. Stepping, as Harry had done, onto the carpeted stage, she murmured Wingardium Leviosa as she waved her wand gracefully toward the small, squarish, keyboard style piano at the edge of the stage and drew it over to its center. She set it down gently then strode over to take its seat to bring with her.
She tapped the instrument with the tip of her wand, amplifying it.
Confusion lit eyes at the table she had left, even Minerva seemed somewhat caught off guard by seeing her lover rearrange the stage.
"What's she doing? Does Hermione play piano?" Todd asked his wife curiously.
"I don't know… I mean, I think so?"
"She does, she played when we were kids…" Harry stated with astonishment, answering many of the unspoken questions.
This only heightened Minerva's interest as under the bluish lights of the stage, they watched the brown eyed woman take a seat, avoiding the microphone.
Hermione raised the tip of her wand and held it to her throat, apparently forgoing the set up.
Others in the room seemed to sit captivated in watching this unknown woman, sitting center stage with one of the instruments they dare not touch.
Amplified by a sonorus charm, they heard Hermione hum lightly, her rich notes filling their ears. She aimed a glance at her friend Lydia who sat on the edge of her seat, waiting.
"This is for my friend Lydia, who I dragged to a musical with my mother last Summer…" Hermione announced softly before her hands expertly played the first notes of a song that immediately struck Lydia with recognition.
The voice which followed those soft notes left the table in utter awe.
"It's not simple to say that most days - I don't recognize me.
That these shoes and this apron, that place and its patrons, have taken more than I gave them.
It's not easy to know, I'm not anything… Like I used to be although it's true - I was never attention's sweet center, I still remember that girl.
She's imperfect but she tries, she is good… But she lies. She is hard on herself… She is broken and won't ask for help. She is messy, but she's kind… She is lonely… Most of the time - She is all this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie.
She is gone but she used to be mine."
Minerva felt a heat. It crept up her chest and neck. A musical voice, smooth and melodic, touched something deep beneath the skin. She could hardly even begin to understand where such a gift came from. The words hit her deep, they were heavy and far too relatable regarding the brown eyed woman baring her soul as though it came easy. Never in her wildest imaginings did she think Hermione was a singer… How wrong she had been.
A dark skinned hand rose as Lydia wiped moisture from her cheek, her husband rubbing her arm, as the small group listened intently to the voice of the woman which carried tenderness and… Almost, pain, as expert fingers danced across keys. Lydia remembered that musical, she thought back on it often, she'd never been to a Muggle theater before.
"And it's not what I asked for, sometimes life just slips in through a back door and carves out a person who makes you believe it's all true… And now I've got you.
You're not what I asked for; If I'm honest, I know, I'd give it all back for a chance to start over. And re-write an ending or two, for that girl that I knew.
Who'd be reckless just enough… Who gets hurt, but who learns how to toughen up when she's bruised, and gets used by a man who can't love… And then she'll get stuck.
And be scared of the life that's inside her, growing stronger each day, 'til it finally reminds her to fight… Just a little… To bring back the fire in her eyes…
That's been gone, but used to be mine.
Used to be mine…
She is messy… But she's kind.
She is lonely… Most of the time.
She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie.
She is gone… But she used to be… Mine."
There was a profound silence for a few moments as final notes faded into the ether. Hermione felt her heart still.
When the small bar erupted in applause and whistles, that's when she knew she'd done just fine.
Around their tables, her friends stood and clapped, whistled, and called their appreciation of her taking that short moment to share with them a song. Even though Hermione's hands remained shaking, trembling, with the exertion and the adrenaline, she thought, Harry must have felt, her eyes couldn't stop peering at the ebony haired witch who had, in that time, found a napkin to dab her cheeks with.
Like she had promised to do, the author rose from her seat at the piano, lifted her wand to her throat and cancelled the sonorus charm. She tapped the instrument and levitated it back to where it had been, carrying the chair with it shortly thereafter.
Once all was said and done, she hardly had enough time to stroll halfway back across the dance floor when her friend ran forward and threw her arms around her neck. With wand in hand, Hermione hugged Lydia closely.
"Serves me fucking right, ruined my make up…" Sniffed the woman close to her ear. Hermione dropped a kiss to her shoulder.
"Do you think she liked it?" Hermione asked quietly, uncertainty lacing her words.
"She'd be crazy not to." Heard the tanned woman against her shoulder before the women parted and returned to their friends. Hugs were shared among them, Ginny giving her arm a slap for having not warned her beforehand to grab something that she could use to wipe her face. Neville, however, was wearing a similar expression to Minerva. A sort of interesting mix of having no idea what had just happened and resolute adoration.
Slowly, Hermione squeezed behind her friends once more and between the backs of their chairs and the wall to the woman who gazed upon her with an unreadable expression. When Hermione managed to make it back to her space at the table, the Scottish woman leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"Your home… Now, please." Pulling back, Hermione investigated her eyes for a moment. A bit pinkish from tears that had been shed, slightly watery still, however, an emotion held within them that told her best not to deny the request.
"Ahhh, well… Tonight has been absolutely lovely but we have a bit to do tomorrow," Hermione lied through her teeth, regaining the attention of their friends. "Minerva and I are going to head out for the evening."
It happened quickly. Once they had announced their departure, no one argued, rather they stood upon ceremony once more and shared hugs around to their friends, kisses to cheeks, before Hermione helped Minerva with her coat.
"We'll have to come together again soon." The Headmistress stated, fingers tending to buttons, while her smile masked the rising warmth beneath the fabric she adorned herself with.
With waves and well wishes, the women made their way out into the cool, Minerva's hand guiding Hermione a short distance before turning to face the woman. Little needed to be said, all that was requested was to go home. So, drawing the ebony haired woman near, they apparated, leaving behind the small town and their friends who remained in that small pub.
With the women gone, their table, now with two empty seats, continued to chat and converse for a few minutes before Neville eyed Harry with mischief.
"You owe me about 50 galleons, Potter." Neville chuckled as he pulled out his pocket watch to look at the time.
"I can't believe it actually worked… How long do you think before they're in bed?" The green eyed man mumbled, tossing coin down the table to the other man.
"Will they even make it to the bed? Have you seen the size of her house?" Ginny laughed as she rubbed her husband's arm.
"Probably not." Luna giggled to herself, smoothing down the skirt of her dress.
The best laid plans that ever could be, the small group felt like they had accomplished a brilliant task over the course of the evening. Little did the pair of women know, all was premeditated. All it took was good food, drink, and loving friends… And a song.
A pop announced the presence of two figures on the porch. The author withdrew the key from her trouser pocket and unlocked the door, opening it wide to step through. Brushing past the brunette woman, pale fingers worked at the buttons of her coat feverishly as the Scottish witch heard the lock snap into place.
"I hope you had a good evening, Headmistress…" Hermione murmured softly as she turned around, unsuspecting of the hands that would then grab the front of her waistcoat and force her back against the flat of the front door. The key fell from tanned fingers and landed, bouncing, across hardwood at their feet. A noise, like an ooph softly sounded as her back met wood, parting her lips just enough that, when green eyes fell upon them, Minerva's couldn't refrain any longer from tasting the sweetness.
Minerva finally committed.
She leaned in and allowed her own lips to brush those of the author - the warmth of breath, the scent of liquor, and a sharp inhale driving her desire to hear that voice again. That smooth and beautiful voice… Minerva wondered what else Hermione could possibly do with it.
Tanned fingers gripped to stiff fabric. The touch of soft lips growing hardened, more persistent, as deepened kisses bled one into the next… It had been years. She didn't care. If giving in to imagination every once in a while produced this feeling, this aggressively needing to be close, to have and to hold, feeling… She hardly thought she would have been able to maintain patience… Now having what she had missed, discovering what a kiss could possibly do with this ebony haired woman's body forcing her to be locked against the door, while a mouth, so expert in its exploration, drove her further toward absolute madness… It wasn't what she thought their first kiss would be. However, she wouldn't have changed a singular thing.
Bruised, reddened, and stained with her own lipstick, the pale witch broke the kiss, her shaky breath and half lidded gaze making Hermione weak in the knees.
They gazed at one another through the dim, the only illumination being that of the kitchen lights shining down the hall. Hermione was trembling. Adrenaline from singing in front of an audience felt like child's play in comparison to the feeling rising from deep in her chest. That tension, that fucking insufferable tension, rose. It almost seemed like Minerva was waiting, her hands still clutching the fabric it held balled in fists against Hermione's chest.
Wordlessly, Hermione rose a brow as though to say Can we? May I? The anticipation was enough to cause tears to spring to her eye. Searchingly, Hermione's lover peered into her eyes, they were swimming with insatiable desire. Was she ready to undertake that passion and feel it? It took a second, just a fractional moment, before the Headmistress gave her head the slightest of nods, so minimal it hardly presented at all. Teeth bit down into bottom lip, stifling a wide and wicked smile from the brunette, who's hands shifted to the back of the woman's dress, her head dipping to kiss the side of that swan-like neck she'd been so captivated by. Tilting her head back, giving the author room to do as she so pleased, the ebony haired woman felt the zipper on the back of her dress become discovered. Agonizingly slow, the brown eyed woman began to drag that zipper down her back, the heat of her mouth felt not only upon Minerva's neck, shoulders, and the center of her chest but reaching to the very deepest, most sacred channel of her core. She ached to be filled.
Before she realized what was happening, the author forcibly shoved the bodice of her lover's black dress down and over her hips. She didn't ask, she didn't request, Hermione took it upon herself to lay bare the gift of skin and body. Gasping in surprise, the ebony haired woman felt hands blazing trails over her thighs and lower back, her own hands lifting to thread through chestnut curls. When lips met once more, no longer did the Headmistress feel in a position of power. Her lover had adopted the upper hand and used it with a passion, guiding the pale witch to step out of her gown, their heels clicking audibly over floorboards.
Minerva didn't care where she was being guided, her focus solely on the mouth that was battling against her own to deepen an already incredibly deep kiss. A tongue managed to gain entry and massage her own. Teeth sunk into her lower lip, punctuating that kiss, only to bring about another with heated persistence. The witch couldn't think.
Here was this young author who had mentioned only ever having touched another woman once in her lifetime. One brief interaction. That inexperience seemed not to affect her knowledge of how to please a partner. The backs of her heels met stair, causing the woman to become all too aware that she was being led backward toward them. There was no possible way, in such a position, that they were going to be able to continue this to the upper floor. Little did she realize, that wasn't Hermione's intention at all. With a short, sharp shove, the Headmistress found herself successfully landing back onto one of those wide stairs, inhaling sharply as kiss was broken and her backside was met with cool varnished wood. Hermione stood between her legs at the bottom of the stairs. the advantage of her height over the ebony haired witch giving her a magnificent view of creamy breasts, hardened nipples, the muscles 'neath the Headmistress's stomach twitching with unspoken want… And that sheer pair of black knickers…
A twisted little half smile adorned Hermione's lips. Her own tanned hands lifted to loosen the tie around her neck, one briefly reaching to flick on the entrance way light, the sudden change of illumination causing the emerald eyed woman to adjust quickly.
"You… Stay." The author ordered huskily, her own half lidded eyes dragging over pale features. Minerva's mouth dried as she realized their disparity in amount of clothing, quivering, she didn't move a singular muscle, save for those which chose to twitch beyond her control. Green eyes were afforded the sight of the tanned woman slowly stripping herself of tie and waistcoat. Hermione tossed fabric carelessly on the floor. Suspenders clung to the woman's shoulders, suspenders which found themselves hooked by thumbs and drawn down arms.
Never had Minerva wanted nothing more than to tear clothing off a body. But watching this woman slowly unbutton her shirt to reveal inch after inch of tanned, taught skin was one of the most singularly sensual moments she'd ever experienced. Hermione watched her lover take in the sights she was rewarded with for listening to her request. She took hold of her wand and dragged its tip along the seam of her fitted trousers, along either leg, still wearing her unbuttoned shirt, her crimson bra, her heels, and finally gave the Headmistress permission to reach out and tear the fabric from her legs.
"Lend me a hand…" She murmured. The woman didn't need to be asked more than once. Pale hands reached out and tore those slim trousers off the toned legs of her lover, the fabric easily falling apart in her hands by the spell used to sever the thread binding them together. A red pair of lacy hip hugging knickers was the sight she was given. A sight which made her run her tongue over her lip at the thought of tasting the woman within them. Hermione's gaze narrowed. She reached down and hooked her fingers into the fabric at her lover's hips and met her gaze. There was no question in Hermione's eyes that told the Headmistress that her knickers weren't going to be removed to reveal the slick skin beneath. Even though she felt trepidation, uncertainty… Almost a bit self conscious, she lifted her hips and allowed the author to slowly reveal her most secret of parts. Hermione slowly drew that black fabric down her lover's thighs, her calves, and maneuvered them over her heels. The fact that Hermione made no move to remove her heels, or her own, only heightened Minerva's excitement… It was sexy in a way that she hadn't expected or was prepared for.
Tanned hands rested upon her pale knees and the younger witch leaned in to press a kiss, tender, wanting, against her lips.
"I've been waiting fifteen years to make you come against my mouth, Miss. McGonagall…" Lips spoke against her own. A moan rose in the back of her throat, the pale woman relaxing against stairs as she felt one of those delicate hands run its knuckles against her inner thigh… Creeping upward toward her center. They were never going to make it to the bedroom, she realized quickly. Hermione's need to please her informed her of this. The Headmistress felt those lips slowly kiss a trail down the center of her chest, digits sweeping between slick folds. She gasped and groaned her desire to be touched. Her hips rose to meet that hand, her own hands gripping tightly to any firm object which would allow her to gain leverage. With her chin tilted back, her slack mouth releasing sounds that Hermione had only ever dreamed of, the witch dipped her hand to taste sensitive flesh and began to roll the woman's nipple between her lips with a heated tongue, her fingertips toying with an entrance so slick, she would surely be able to sink two fingers into her lover with ease.
The teasing of skin rendered the Headmistress nothing more than a quivering pile of whimpering flesh. The level of enjoyment her lover recieved from garnering such a reaction only heightened her desire to make this woman scream her pleasure, to offer her the kind of sex that made others pale in comparison. As she had stated, she had waited fifteen years to claim this woman's heart and that delicious space between her thighs. She wasn't going to waste a second of it. Dipping to and from breast to breast, paying tribute to nipples so sensitive they almost caused pain, the brunette's fingers shifted from circling the woman's entrance and rubbing that sweet bundle of nerves that swole against her fingers with the passing of moments.
A pale hand found her shoulder and applied pressure, green eyes sharply shifting their gaze to the woman who was driving her fucking insane.
"Hermione…" Her name, breathlessly spoken with strain, never sounded so pleasurable to hear.
"Yes, Headmistress?" She knew Minerva wanted it… She could hear how horribly she needed to feel that brain bursting orgasm. But the author needed to hear it, in all its splendor, so… She continued to tease the woman, however, lifted her head to gaze into her lover's darkened eyes.
"Please…" The woman begged. Just one singular word. Fingers, lubricated with her wetness, positioned at her weeping opening and stilled. The author's gaze held with it a firmness, an authority, as those brown eyes narrowed at her lover. Minerva could hardly contain her moan at receiving such a look.
"Remember… It's been quite some time… I want to hear you say it, all of it, tell me how badly you want it… Show me…" The hand gripping to Hermione's shoulder, balling the fabric still found there, gave a forcible shove downward as words poured over Minerva's lips.
"INSIDE me, damn it… I need to come against your mouth, Hermione, please, just fuck me, darling… OH!" Fingers slipped easily inside the woman and a mouth, guided by the push of her shoulder, dove to taste the sweet and musky aroma the Headmistress's dripping pussy offered. Moaning into that sensitive flesh, Minerva's taste coating her relentless tongue, Hermione lost all sense of time, pressure, and reality. As one tanned hand furiously worked to pump the Headmistress full, her mouth sucked and rolled her clit in a way that, she knew from singular experience, would drive the woman quite mad. Minerva spread her legs impossibly more than she thought she could, taking in the gift of a generous fucking she was receiving at the hands of the woman who she had wanted to feel for what felt like a lifetime. She was not disappointed. In fact, she felt like a fool for ever harboring a doubt…
Hermione's next move came as a relative, however pleasant, surprise as a tanned hand smoothed over her stomach and chest, landing a firm hold of her neck. Possessive in its presentation, Minerva had never had a lover hold her by the throat through a thorough, earth shattering fuck, yet… Here she was.
That touch alone was what made her come… Hard… Against the woman's mouth, a warmth and wetness coating the hand which still pumped furiously within. Only when the cries began to fade into whimpers did Hermione gently guide her fingers from the woman's abused channel and kiss her way up the stomach of her gasping lover. It was then that Hermione heard the whispered words bubbling over lipstick stained lips. She heard I need… I love… I adore… I've missed.
Breathing deeply, the author gazed into the tear filled eyes of the ebony haired witch, those words finally settling in the pools of her mind.
She was needed…
She felt loved…
She was adored…
"I've missed you too…" Hermione murmured softly, guiding the woman up and into a seated position, pale arms winding around her back with a tightness as a face buried into the side of her neck.
Bed or not, right or not, it felt good…
TBC...