Author's Note: Thank you so much for your support and patience! Your reviews are very kind and make me way too excited to write more. Please feel free to comment anything, critiques, questions, concerns, anything I can answer or fix up! This chapter gave me some trouble, and I'm still not sure I'm completely happy with it... Let me know what you think. Also let me know if there are any characters you would like to see more of or see at all. Enjoy :)
Hermione, her head craned backward, looked up at her professor who was looking down at her. She stood there for a timeless moment, mouth open just a bit, face red, eyes wide, and feeling an odd tingling, even more magic swelling in her body. She was suddenly brought back to earth, her mind brought back to what she had just done rather than how close her professor stood.
"Professor, I'm so sorry, I-I," she stuttered slightly, utterly bewildered. "I don't know what happened... I-"
The elder witch had been looking extremely startled and unsure what to do, but suddenly her lip twitched at the end. Then something extremely unexpected happened, catching Hermione completely off guard. Her professor began to laugh. It was a beautiful, pure, sweet laugh. Hermione looked at her, taken aback by the reaction, unsure what exactly to do, and mesmerized by the melodious laughter and her professor's lovely face inches away, her breath just tickling Hermione's nose.
"Oh, Miss Granger," she said, merriment evident in her voice, "do not fear. We just find ourselves in a bit of a predicament, don't we? No bother, we'll be sorted out in no time." She smiled, clearly amused.
Hermione felt a sense of relief knowing her professor was not upset. The woman looked down at her reassuringly.
"Now we have only to get to my wand," McGonagall said as Hermione realized she had dropped hers when she saw what she had done. "We could get yours, but I don't know if you're quite ready to unbind what you unknowingly bound," she teased.
"I must admit you're right. I have been most humbled this afternoon," Hermione replied, a rueful grin coming across her face. "Where is your wand?" She asked, looking back over her shoulder into the woman's eyes.
"I put it atop the far side of the desk so I could help you with the hand m..."
But her voice faded in Hermione's ears as Hermione stared into her emerald green eyes that seemed to be taking up more and more of her view. She remembered that green. She was suddenly taken back to the mystery dream she had woken up to. It all played vividly through her mind. Dear Merlin. She turned her head swiftly away from her professor, terribly guilty. Hermione tried to push it all from her mind, feeling she was absolutely disrespecting her professor by letting these unbidden images back into her brain. But they came. Hermione tried to ignore them, but the effects had already been set into motion. She could feel her professor close behind her, occasionally brushing up against her. She tried not to think about her professor's chest and hips as they brushed across her back while the two witches clumsily made their way over to the desk. She tried not to think about the way her own nipples had started to pebble and rub against the fabric of her bra. She tried not to think about the heat growing between her legs.
It was as if her "silly little crush" had been quite offended at being so quickly dismissed, and decided to fight back with a vengeance, on a mission to prove it was not "silly" nor "little." And it was doing a very convincing job.
Minerva couldn't help but laugh at the situation that one the best spell casters Hogwarts had ever seen had landed them in. It was surprising that Hermione's magic had been so unbridled, but few other students would have been able to release the magic required to do what Hermione had done with one quiet word and one small wand movement. This was turning out to be a far more entertaining evening than she had expected.
The way they were bound made it difficult, if not impossible, to move apart without twisting each other's arms. The length from their elbows to the tips of their fingers were bound together, the inside of Minervas arm pressed along the outside of Hermione's, spooning it, so to speak. They were bound in just the same position they had been in when Minerva had guided Hermione's hand. Minerva had not contemplated what exactly went wrong, but that could wait.
Making their way to the desk was trying, but eventually they found a certain rhythm and were well on their way, bodies moving in sync. They'd be ready for a ball in no time. Minerva scolded herself for the amusement she had found in their predicament while poor Hermione was probably absolutely mortified. When they had made their way to the desk, Minerva reached for her wand with her free hand. In doing so, she had to reach around Hermione and, although attempting to keep distance between her student and herself, their bodies' full lengths had ended up pressed together. Hermione suddenly flinched and stumbled forward. Minerva, on instinct, reached out to catch her before she could take them both tumbling to the floor. Her free arm wrapped around Hermione's waist and her bound one pushed itself and the young woman's arm in to meet it. Minerva could feel a strange sensation similar to the one she felt before executing a spell, magic swirling out from her core to every cell in her body. Minerva was not sure why exactly she was feeling that way, but it was unimportant. One's magical core was often a unpredictable, extraordinary, and inexplainable thing. Her bound arm hummed especially excitedly. Her body felt as though it was gravitating toward the young woman. Must have had something to do with the binding charm.
"Are you quite alright?" Minerva asked, concerned, as she steadied them both.
"Yes, I'm sorry professor, I was just startled," Hermione replied, looking back at her.
"Don't apologize, Miss Granger," Minerva said, feeling even worse about how uncomfortable her student must be. She now had only to reach back and grab her wand.
"Alright Miss Granger," McGonagall said, wand in hand. "We will need to be careful unbinding our arms. Be very still."
Hermione tried to stay still as her professor ran her wand along their bound arms, murmuring a few enchanting words under her breath. It was hard to stay still. She had not been able to when the elder witch's body had pressed against her back. It had just been a bit too much. She couldn't be that close to her. She couldn't stand it. But she wanted it. Hermione was new to this feeling. Not being able to stand something but, at the same time, wanting it desperately. She took a deep breath and kept still.
Feeling a new tingling in her arm, she looked down. They were unbound. Thank goodness! As they stepped away from each other and Hermione turned around to face her professor, she felt the humming in her body go down. Must be the spell fading. She was quite relieved to not have to stand in such close proximity to McGonagall, but... she also found herself wanting more of that contact... She was filled with opposing desires. This woman would be the death of her.
"That was quite the evening, wasn't it?" The elder witch said, sighing with relief. "We have a bit more work to do with that spell," she winked at Hermione, whose knees went weaker. "But it's getting rather late so we can call it quits for tonight."
"That sounds like a plan, professor," Hermione said, just noticing the time.
"You'll forgive my violation of your space I do hope," McGonagall said, concern in her voice.
"Professor, it was my fault!" Hermione said firmly. "So I'm sorry." Hermione paused until her bold side won her over. "And you needn't worry professor, I feel very comfortable with you."
McGonagall looked deep into Hermione's eyes, making her knees go weak yet again. The elder witch appeared to be genuinely touched.
"I'm happy to hear that, Miss Granger," her professor said, sounding as though she were trying to retain her professional teacher voice, but failing. Her response was gentle and tender.
The two witches continued to talk as Hermione gathered her things. They arranged for another tea time the next week, and agreed to figure out what had gone wrong then. Hermione headed for the door, her mind still full of opposing emotions.
"Goodnight, Miss Granger," her professor said as she reached the door.
Hermione's bold side had won her over again. She suddenly turned around and looked right at the older woman.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
Hermione paused, before continuing more boldly. "Might you call me Hermione?" She looked the elder witch firmly in the eye, desperately hoping she did not portray her hopeful, pounding heart.
McGonagall looked deep in thought.
"I suppose that would be acceptable," she said after a moment. "Especially after the evening we've just spent together," she said, smiling in contemplation. She continued although she was unsure if she was doing the right thing. "I suppose I could, but if I do, Miss Granger, it would be fair for you to call me Minerva." She looked at Hermione intently. "Outside of class only, of course," she added after a moment's pause.
Hermione didn't know about that. Perhaps she shouldn't have asked. Her mind- or was it her heart? -was battling over a somewhat uncomfortable feeling about referring to her professor in such a personal way and allowing her feelings to grow any further, and a deep, opposing want to refer to her professor this way, a want to become closer to the woman, to explore these feelings a bit more... Mm, yes. This was the side that won.
"Ok," Hermione paused, a nervous sensation spreading through her, "Minerva." A jolt of pleasure struck through her body.
"Hermione," Minerva said, giving her a curt nod and a quick wink.
Hermione turned and left the room, tingles of pleasure running through her at hearing her name in the lilting Scottish brogue. Still aching and feeling want deep within her, but smiling, Hermione walked to the common room, her home.
Minerva walked into the the teacher's lounge to retrieve some papers she'd left there earlier, only to find Head of Hufflepuff and Herbology Professor, Pomona Sprout, a dear friend of hers.
"Minerva, dear," she said jovially. "I've been hoping I'd get so see you tonight!"
"Oh, Pomona," Minerva smiled, taking a seat next to her friend.
They began to catch up and chat about the events of the day and all the current gossip of the students. Their conversation made its way to Minerva's evening with Hermione.
"Oh Pomona, the poor girl. She must have been very uncomfortable being in such close proximity to her professor. The situation was pretty funny until I realized how terrible it might've been for her," Minerva told Pomona regretfully.
"Why, with your magical ability, I'm sure it took but five seconds to fix it right up," Pomona replied in a reassuring tone. "Wandlessly and silently you did it, didn't you? I'm sure she was not uncomfortable for long."
Minerva paused, thinking back. She had not done that. She very easily could have. Why was this just occurring to her now? Why had she let that moment drag out so much longer than it needed to last? Why, after all these years, she could wordlessly and wandlessly move a wall if she really wanted to.
"Uh huh," she lied to Pomona.
"I'm sure she's just fine! You said yourself that she said she was comfortable around you and everything was just fine when she left," Pomona continued sounding sure of herself. "Well, better be off to bed! Night, dear," she said with a smile and pat on Minerva's shoulder.
"Goodnight, Pomona," Minerva responded, not looking at woman as she left the room. She sat there for a few minutes more, perplexed.
A short time later, Minerva headed back to her private quarters. Once in the door, she peeled off her shoes and gradually undressed as she walked up the stairs to her bathroom. She stepped in the shower and let the cool water run over her body. Still far away, she wandered through her nightly routine absentmindedly.
Minerva went to bed that night searching for sleep and all the while pondering why she had remained bound to Hermione's arm for so much longer than she needed to be.
Hermione walked the stairs to her dormitories, through the door, and into the dark rooms. She peeled off her shoes as she made her way to own bed. In the dim light, she saw Luna on her own bed, Spectrespecs on, reading The Quibbler. Her head lifted as Hermione walked past her bed, and she took her blue and pink glasses off. She looked up quietly, gave Hermione a slow look up and down, something shockingly suggestive for Luna, and then smiled as if satisfied before pulling her Spectrespecs back over her eyes. Hermione was hardly fazed by the odd interaction as she was much too tired and much too preoccupied to care.
Hermione found her bed and laid down, not bothering to take anything but her outer robes off first. She stared up at the ceiling and searched for sleep, but was only bombarded with more thoughts and feelings. She was still aching for something, she was still being yelled at by the two opposing parts of herself, the good and sensible part becoming quieter and quieter while desperately screaming out warnings of entering uncharted territory, going down a path of no return, taking things too far, her heart following silly notions of a lovesick school girl. But this faded until it was gone, overpowered by the other part of her, the one thinking about epoximise. The one thinking about touching, about feeling. The one thinking about her professor. The one thinking about Minerva.