When the two women returned to their quarters much later that evening they were both a little stressed and exhausted by polite conversation and formalities. The door closed and the wolf wrapped both arms around a slender waist, pressing her body against the Minerva's back. The older witch shivered at the sensation of warm breath on her spine as Hermione's forehead leant against her nape. "I am so glad that is over."
"I am too," said Minerva, placing her hands on top of the ones resting on her abdomen.
"Mmmmm. Hard being the belle of the ball?"
"A room full of people who change into wolves and I am the one who feels like a zoo animal."
"I feel like that a lot too, sometimes I feel as though I don't fit in here anymore than I did in your world. I see things a little differently than they do."
The witch gave a small sigh and squeezed the wolf's hands. Hermione released her as soon as the older woman's body language indicated that she wanted to step away. "We'll be outcasts together then?" Minerva smiled at the happy grin that she got given in response to those words.
"Sounds pretty good to me." Hermione shrugged out of her suit jacket and tossed it on the end of the bed, then took off her tie and loosened her collar with a deft motion.
Minerva kicked off her heels, curling her stockinged toes into the sumptuous carpet with a wordless sound of pleasure. "May I ask why you choose to wear that type of suit? You look stunning in it, strikingly beautiful even, but it is an unusual choice."
Hermione laughed a little nervously, fiddling with her cufflinks, "I hate dresses, absolutely loathe them and I am not fond of skirts either - on me that is; other women in dresses and skirts… That's something else entirely." She gave a slightly naughty chuckle, "Anyway women's trouser suits always seem to have no pockets, silly waistbands, fake buttons and are weirdly cut. Men's suits are fun: there are so many choices, accessories and styles - I like the pageantry and history that comes with a nice suit, luckily I have a good tailor who enjoys the challenge of defying convention and evidently, a mate who is better at knotting ties than I am."
Minerva nodded along with her, seemingly understanding. "Well I do know another few ways to knot a tie, some of them rather eye-catching." The simple acceptance in her voice made Hermione's breath catch. "Now if you could help me out of this dress and wouldn't mind if I had a bath before bed? I think I need to relax from this evening's events, if I have any chance of sleeping."
"Sure." Hermione walked over and unfastened Minerva's dress in a smooth motion, this time letting one of her fingers follow the zip down the line of the older woman's spine - raising goosebumps in its wake but she didn't dawdle over the contact. There was plenty of time for that.
"Thank you Hermione."
"Oh the pleasure was all mine."
Emerald eyes sparkled brightly, "Not only yours, my dear." Minerva sauntered off towards the dressing room, feeling more alive than she had in years and if she dared even to think it; more of a sexual being than the old maid most people normally presumed her to be.
The bath was luxurious for a Muggle bathroom fixture and Minerva was more than happy to take advantage of it. The quick shower she had managed that afternoon had managed to get two weeks of grime off of her but it had been a long time since she had managed to soak in peace and it was delightful. The witch took the time to fully relax and take stock - for the first occasion since this had all started.
She was worried about what was happening back in Britain, there was so little of the resistance left that it would probably crumble without her but truthfully it had been already and there was nothing that she could do about it. She had to draw a line under it and start over. It was really too soon to know if she could be happy here or if she could fit in. The prospect of a return to teaching was something she had previously given up on and she found herself excited about the possibility.
Then there was Hermione Granger. The young woman had managed to enthrall her in an amazingly short space of time. The wolf was stunningly attractive, completely shameless in her nudity and comfortable with her body. Truth be told, it made Minerva's blood run rather hot. She had rarely kissed someone so soon after meeting them but in no way regretted the rash move. But she wasn't only beautiful physically; the witch was highly intelligent, an engaging conversationalist and very pleasant company.
She turned into a wolf - true, but no one was perfect.
Hermione was running on her treadmill; as fast as it would let her go, paws pounding across the rubberised surface. Getting on the treadmill was easy; you started off in human form, punched the top speed into the computer, pressed go, and shifted into wolf form mid stride. Getting off was another matter, you would either have to jump from the front or yank the emergency stop cord in your teeth.
She could understand why Minerva would want to relax in the bathtub but personally she preferred physical movement when she was stressed. It was mind-numbing, running on the spot, she could let her mind wander without having to worry about placing her feet and Hermione let herself fall into a rhythm.
Her thoughts turned to the witch she had rescued from the forest. She had first seen the woman wearing tattered, filthy wizarding robes almost an hour before the scuffle had started. Her patrol team had spotted the witch and her distant pursuers before they even reached half way through the no-man's-land in front of their current border. In wolf form, Hermione and her friends could be almost invisible and they had watched what was happening.
Minerva had impressed Hermione even then, scrabbling over rocks and fighting with the terrain, despite her hands being chained together. The witch was battered and bleeding but still fought for every inch. The wolf prayed a number of times that the older woman turned a little to the left - her angle of approach meant that she was so close to missing their territory entirely. The witch ran out of time, her pursuers caught up and she turned right, literally stumbling onto their land.
Hermione had been the last wolf to arrive at the battle, she could have killed the witch quite easily but her heart really wasn't in it. She had no problem attacking humans who posed a threat but this was no rifle toting hunter with a hair trigger, or superstitious pitchfork wielding local, it was an injured, chained and beaten woman with a bent butter knife and one who, despite her fear, squared up to face off with the wolf.
Once the fighting with the wizards was done, she turned to heal Andrew's wound and found that Minerva was already there, doing it - despite the danger, despite the fact that four other wolves were almost literally breathing down her neck. The older woman's wand movement was almost a joy to watch; falling somewhere between utilitarian and flashy, her hand moving with economical grace.
She found it fascinating and the woman's bravery when she awoke Andrew was startling. Her speaking voice carried with it, a regional British accent Hermione recognised as Scottish but the witch spoke clearly and with authority. The wolf was entranced, in so many ways and all at the same time - it was overwhelming. Then the pack were readying themselves to strike and she couldn't let it happen.
Hermione's paws missed their stride and she almost stumbled as she remembered the desperation that had overtaken her before she had made a claim on the witch. She recovered almost immediately, not wanting to be thrown off of the treadmill - knowing from experience that it hurt.
Minerva's intelligence and insight had been a welcome revelation, correctly identifying Hermione in human form, simply from a head tilt. The wolf had taken her wand, just to see if she could while the witch was not expecting it and was surprised to find that it did not belong to her. The woman's confused frown when she gave it back had been adorable.
Hermione's discovery that she already knew of this witch was another welcome development. There could only be one Scottish witch with Minerva as a first name and she had been happy that her guess was correct. A world renowned expert would be invaluable and certainly a selling point if her father decided to be a pest about her taking a human mate.
The witch made her smile, laugh and chuckle. The skin that showed through her torn clothing was pale, soft looking and she had the prettiest green eyes. Hermione had quickly realised that she was becoming rapidly infatuated with Minerva McGonagall, which of course wasn't a bad thing if they had to spend the rest of their lives together.
The sound of the bathtub draining could clearly be heard over the sound of paws on the magically silenced treadmill. It was several minutes later that Minerva emerged from the dressing room in a long night gown, still towel drying her hair. She stood still for a minute, obviously trying to figure out what Hermione was doing.
By this time however, the wolf was getting a little tired; it had been a long day, despite their earlier nap, and her muscles were starting to ache and her pads felt hot from the constant friction against the belt. Stretching her neck up, Hermione pulled the emergency stop with her incisors and caught herself when her momentum tried to throw her forward. She let her tongue hang limply from the side of her mouth as she panted hard and then looked over at Minerva, foam splattered across her muzzle.
"If you even think about trying to lick me while you're covered in that much drool, I will hex you." Despite the harshness of the words, Minerva's voice told of a smile that the witch was trying to hide.
The wolf snorted, held her head up haughtily high and she walked past Minerva. She bounced up onto her hind legs for a moment, pulling the door handle down with a paw and let herself into the dressing room. "Next time I'll test that theory," Hermione's voice rang out a few moments later.
"Your funeral."
"Don't try me McGonagall."
Minerva silently laughed at that comment and didn't respond, hearing the shower turn on. She stepped around the odd Muggle device that the wolf had been running on and went to find a book to read. Her eyes flicked over the spines of the volumes on the bookshelves, smiling a little at the eclectic nature of the collection. Settling on an old novel that she had read a hundred times the witch slid into bed, tossed the comforter over her bare legs and quickly lost herself in a familiar tale of forbidden love and intrigue set in Georgian England.
Hermione hadn't been exaggerating in the cave earlier that morning; her bed was truly sumptuous, with a soft comfortable top layer but firm enough underneath to be wonderfully supportive. Minerva was so relaxed in fact, that she barely lifted her eyes from the page when the younger witch walked back into the room half an hour later. The wolf was delighted by this behaviour; it showed that the older woman was confident enough to make herself at home and happy enough to rummage through her book collection.
Waving her wand, Hermione put away the treadmill and quickly cast a scourgify to remove her shed fur from the carpet. Dealing with stray wolf hair was something of an occupational hazard, but she didn't want to put the rather fastidious older woman off. She banished her worn clothing into the dressing room and turned on her bedside light, before walking over and switching off the main one.
Finally the older witch got to the end of her chapter and looked up. Hermione had forgone the pyjamas that she had worn for their earlier nap, instead wearing a dark red scoop neck t-shirt and black knickers. Minerva let her eyes wander; noting idly that the young woman would have looked good in Gryffindor colours and she had no doubts that is where Hermione would have been sorted.
"What are you thinking?" Asked the wolf, lying down on top of the covers.
"Aside from the fact that you have lovely legs?" Hermione blushed slightly at the tone the words were uttered in, rather than the rhetorical question itself. "I was just thinking that you would have been a Gryffindor if you had attended Hogwarts."
"I'd always thought so, it would certainly have been my preference. Though if I had been your student you wouldn't have looked at me twice." The unspoken truth; that Minerva would have had little choice in the matter, given their current circumstances, was left unvoiced and quite frankly they were both trying to move past it.
"If you had been my student, you wouldn't have dared to growl at me."
Hermione laughed, turning onto her hip to face the older witch, who put the book aside with a smile. "I wouldn't?"
"Well, you might, just to be contrary. Cheeky." Emerald eyes turned serious, "I'm still curious about why you couldn't leave at eleven and why your magical children are educated here."
"At any given time there are probably almost... half of us who are not allowed to leave the Conclave, simply because they cannot control their transformations. If one of us were to lose focus in the wrong place and expose our kind, we could all die. As adults with better self-control, many of us go off to university, or on missions for the community but as children and teenagers, it's highly dangerous." Hermione turned off her bedside lamp, leaving Minerva's as the only illumination in the room. "Imagine a school corridor; with all the hustle and bustle that involves, then a child runs past… Humans may not be our natural prey but the instinct to chase is incredibly strong. It would only take a split second of faltering concentration…"
"Like this evening, when your eyes changed or started to?"
"Yes and no." Hermione sighed, "I sort of allowed that to happen. Normally, I am very good at clamping down on my inner wolf - some would say too much - not letting my instincts control me, but that was a safe environment. Dimitri was pumping out aggressive pheromones and I let go just enough to show everyone there how far I am willing to go to protect you."
"I'm very capable of protecting myself." Minerva's tone was a little acerbic.
"I know that. You are more than capable and I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't. However the fact that I am willing to do so should be enough to stop anyone from trying to do anything. The same way that you standing up for me at the Council meeting protected me. It's more about posturing and ritual, than anything else."
Mollified, Minerva nodded and touched Hermione's hand with her fingertips - thrilling a little inside when the wolf turned the palm over, inviting the witch to grasp it. "I'm the only witch here to receive a proper education in the last thirty years and it's only because I worked damn hard for that level of physical control when I was just a child."
"You teach at the school?" Minerva put the book on her bedside table, fumbling a little as she dimmed the Muggle lamp and then sidled closer, rolling over to face the younger witch.
"Occasionally. My plans were to eventually move over to the school full time and make it better or at least adequate but I felt that what I am doing now was more important. I've been torn in two directions over the issue. And quite frankly, if you are willing to help sort out that mess in the meantime, I would be forever grateful."
"Mmmmmm," came the non-committal reply from Minerva, she wasn't quite ready to share her enthusiasm about the prospect but it seemed as though Hermione could sense it to a certain degree, judging by her grin.
"So about tomorrow, would you prefer to start with a tour of the castle or alternatively we could do the town; take a look around, buy you some stuff, grab lunch and head for the school?"
Minerva gave it careful thought, "The latter."
"Alright."
"How does money work here?"
Hermione shuffled closer, letting their joined hands brush the front of her naked thighs. "Uh, a variety of ways. If you do work for the community, you get paid in money by the bank. Or you can choose to work for someone else for cash or goods. Or you can trade something for what you want. Alternatively you could earn money from outside, we have contacts in banks all over the world. For now, there's plenty of money in my account for whatever you may need or want."
Minerva shifted her weight, leaning nearer, running the fingers of her free hand across Hermione's exposed collarbone. "You want me to be a kept woman?"
The wolf laughed, closing her eyes in delight at the sensation of Minerva's touch on her skin. "The idea has a certain appeal but it's not quite what I meant."
"What's yours is mine? That kind of thing?"
"You are infuriating, has anyone ever told you that?"
Minerva gave a quiet chuckle, "I believe it has been mentioned…" Whatever Hermione was going to say in answer was cut off by Minerva's lips on hers.
It wasn't as brief as their second kiss, nor as hesitant and emotional as the first had started off. This was an unhurried exploration of lips as they sunk into an embrace on the bed. Hermione's tongue traced the shape of a full bottom lip and begged entry. The older witch gave a gasp when their tongues touched for the first time, playfully dancing as the intensity started to rise.
When they finally parted, both witches were breathless, shaking, hormonal messes but neither really cared about decorum at that point. Minerva's hands had made their way under Hermione's shirt at the back, stroking warm skin and pulling the wolf closer still. The young witch was a little more circumspect in her touch, having one hand on a shapely hip and the other on Minerva's face, sensing that it would be easy to push the woman too fast and without meaning to.
Neither spoke, for fear of breaking the spell that had fallen between them. Gentle lips touched Minerva's forehead and she closed her eyes, feeling completely overwhelmed but so very safe at the same moment. Hermione pulled up the blue throw and magically threw it over their bodies. Minerva waved one hand at the lit lamp, turning it off and plunging them into darkness.