Author's note: Sorry for the not-so-timely update! Unfortunately, my break is over and I'm back to twelve hour days *deep sigh*. I'm hoping to fit in some writing time late in the evening and on weekends. Bear with me :) I polished up the previous chapters a bit and added a few more sentences to Chapter 2, but it's nothing plot-changing so don't worry about rereading it. Here is a bit longer chapter (that was actually meant to be longer, but I wanted to get something to you guys) that I found my way through after some heavy contemplation on whether I will attempt to make this a cute, short story, or a longer, more detailed, bit dramatic, and complex story. I'm still not completely decided. Any thoughts or opinions are welcome! Let me know and hope you enjoy :)
Hermione sat down on a cushy chair in the back office, her professor across from her. Thoughts whirled through her mind as she was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization Luna had brought to her conscious mind just minutes ago.
"Tea?" McGonagall's voice snapping her back to reality.
"Thank you," Hermione replied with a polite smile.
They exchanged some small talk, Hermione struggling to keep a level head and steady voice as she sorted through the now undeniable facts.
She fancied her professor. Dear Merlin, she fancied her professor! She felt an unequivocally strong attraction toward her. She deeply desired the company and attention of the elder witch. How did she possibly get to this?
Her respect and admiration for the distinguished witch must have, somewhere along the way, so quietly and subtly developed into an powerful attraction to her. She couldn't quite place when it had happened, but figured it had begun long ago, growing over time. All she knew was that it had just hit her now. It had finally hit her at the most inconvenient of times, during a one-on-one tea time with said woman, and when her romantic feelings had culminated to a very high peak.
Likely, she had unconsciously known all along. Consciously? Not in the least. How could she have been so blind to the facts? She had spent a whole class admiring the woman, for Merlin's sake. She couldn't take her eyes off her. Even Luna had known. Luna had discovered Hermione's feelings before she herself was even aware of them. Luna. Luna, although a brilliantly intelligent witch, often seemed to have her head in the clouds. Yet she had still seen it. She had spelled out the truth of Hermione's feelings; a truth Hermione herself previously could not -or would not- admit. A truth involving her professor. That truth being that she simply could not get enough of the woman.
Her mind felt as though it was erupting as new waves of realization swept through it, giving her a throbbing headache. She desperately needed to get out of her own head before her professor caught on and realized something was off. All she had to do was put these thoughts aside, get through the afternoon, and then straighten out all the feelings that were now pummeling her hard-at-work mind.
Minerva sipped her tea, having a quite enjoyable time with her student. Miss Granger really was an extraordinary young woman. Her mind worked in fascinating ways; her sense of humor was a antidote of cheer after a tiresome day; her unwavering kindness seemed to radiate from her being; her passion was plainly evident when she spoke of magic, elvish equality, and using correct pronunciation in incantations such as Leviosa; and her skill and immensely powerful magical core put witches and wizards Minerva's age to shame. She had blossomed into an exquisitely rare and beautiful person.
Minerva had missed just spending a bit of time unwinding and engaging with a student. Particularly this student. She would enjoy this as she and Hermione got back into their old familiarity and comfort with each other. She decided to save any questions regarding her suspicion of Hermione not telling her something until later. Hermione might be more likely to open up once their found their way to back to the swing of things and, if not, Minerva wanted to savor this time for as long as it might last.
As she and Hermione finished their cups of tea, she proposed they begin a bit of spell work. Hermione readily agreed, and Minerva grinned as she introduced the spell epoximise, a word that had become a sort of inside joke between the two of them.
Hermione seemed to be enjoying herself. Minerva certainly was. She hoped Hermione was too.
Professor McGonagall had stood near the side wall on her office, beckoning Hermione closer. Hermione came up slowly, trying to hide her hesitance. Perhaps she'd overreacted before. It was just a silly little crush. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing too out of the ordinary. It was normal for students to develop little crushes on professors occasionally. This was nothing more. It needn't stop her from enjoying her time with the woman. She needn't feel strange or guilty about it.
As she stood near McGonagall, waiting for further instruction, her professor raised her wand at Hermione. A swift flick of her wrist cast a wordless spell, and a top button on Hermione's outer robes popped right off. It floated in the air, close to the tip of her professor's wand.
"Hey!" Hermione said in a light-heartedly accusatory tone.
"Patience, Miss Granger," her professor replied, amused at the woman's apparent attachment to her button.
McGonagall, still holding the button up through magic, had pointed her wand near the now buttonless collar of Hermione's black witch's robes.
"Epoximise," she murmured. The threads of the black material that lay across Hermione's collarbone reached out and grabbed the button, which was more than willing to oblige, and the two bonded back together.
"You see?" McGonagall inquired. "Epoximise is a spell with a wide range of uses, common repairs being one. If the repair simply requires something by bound to something else, epoxmise can be used in place of reparo."
She then gently swept her wand down the side of her long emerald robes, magically creating a tear in the fabric. Hermione got a quick glimpse of creamy white skin, and flushed. It was gone as soon as it had come and Hermione's body cooled to its previous temperature.
"Epoximise," McGonagall murmured again, wand tracing the tear made in the cloth of her robes seconds ago. It stitched right back up.
"Interesting," Hermione said honestly, a bit intrigued. "You said this is it at its simplest. What else is it used for?"
"Really binding of any kind. If someone wanted to, say, bind a shirt and pair of pants together to create a jumper, they could use epoximise. If someone wished to combine a string of beautiful lights with a blossoming garden of roses, they could use epoximise, and the two would bind to perhaps appear as a rose with light emanating from within it."
"That's quite a versatile spell," Hermione responded, excited to try it out herself.
"Indeed," Professor McGonagall agreed. "I can see you are eager to release some magic, my dear," she continued, enjoying her student's enthusiasm. "I'm sure you will not struggle with the more simple binding, but the spell does grow more complex as the nature of the two things being bound becomes more complex. There are stories that tell of some dangerous and life altering applications of epoximise. The fabric of lives, hearts, and souls are not so simple as that of robes." She paused, looking serious, eyes far away, before her focus snapped back to her office and the interested woman she was tutoring. "The complexity does not increase in the words said or the hand movement necessarily, but in the harnessing and focusing of the magic at your core."
"Yes, professor," Hermione nodded, feeling her magic swirling inside her, ready to try this new spell and impress the witch who was ceding her whole afternoon to teaching her.
"Let's begin with... perhaps the binding of a salt and pepper shaker," McGonagall said, the seasonings materializing in front of Hermione with a wave of her wand. "A random pair to bind, but helpful for our purposes."
Hermione looked at the salt and pepper shakers and raised her wand.
"Epoximise," she whispered, while attempting to wave her wand in the movement McGonagall had demonstrated.
Nothing happened.
"Your hand movement was just a bit off," her professor said, stepping close behind Hermione. She reached out and wrapped her hand softly around Hermione's wand hand, and Hermione could feel her professor close behind, her breath just grazing Hermione's neck. The length of the two woman's elbows to their hands were pressed together, and Hermione felt her professor's slender wrist snug against her own. The elder witch guided her wand hand through the correct motions as Hermione's breath hitched in her throat.
McGonagall gently let go after moment, faltering slightly, and then stepping away.
Hermione was doing so well. She was doing so well. She had pushed aside her crowded thoughts and focused on the the task at hand. But feeling her professor so close to her had woken something. Her mind flooded once again. She became suddenly distracted with her recently realized feelings for her professor, her scolding of herself for being inappropriately attracted to her professor, and her current inability to calm neither her heart, nor her rapidly heating body as she thought about how it felt when professor McGonagall's hand had held hers. Her beautiful hand, her strong slender wrist. Hermione glanced sideways at her professor who was waiting for her to cast the binding spell, an encouraging smile gracing her already breathtaking features.
"Epoximise," McGonagall murmured encouragingly, sounding far away in Hermione's mind. As she placed her hand on the young woman's back, Hermione's mind rushed back to long, gentle fingers, soft palm, elegant wrist. Hermione whispered the words, swept her wand, and felt her body hum as a powerful, yet currently unfocused magic left her being.
She blinked.
Something had happened. Had she executed the spell successfully? She looked at the salt and pepper shakers. They stood a oddly familiar distance apart. It had not worked.
After accepting the fact that she had failed twice now, she felt a tingling along her lower arm and wrist. She began to pull her arm up in front of her to see what caused the strange sensation, but her arm resisted, something weighing it down. What was that?
As she looked down, McGonagall uttered a quiet "oh dear..." from right behind her ear.
Hermione looked around at McGonagall regretfully. She found her face inches away from the elder witch rendering them both speechless but staring into each other's eyes with startled expressions. Now she'd done it.
She had bound her arm to her lovely professor's.