A knock on the door caused Hermione to glance at it as she walked out of the kitchen and toward the Headmistress, holding a fresh cup of tea.
"Expecting anyone?" She asked while lowering a cup and saucer on the coffee table in front of the green eyed witch. Minerva smiled her thanks.
"Indeed, would you care to get that for me?" Minerva asked. Naturally, Hermione was already on the move toward the door. A few hours had passed since Minerva's shower and Hermione vaguely recalled hearing the Headmistress call for a house elf from her bedroom. Of course, at the time, she thought nothing of it.
Opening the door casually, Hermione was surprised to see Rolanda standing on the other side.
"Oh! Good afternoon," Stepping back and parting the door a bit more for the other woman to walk through, they shared a glance and a smile. "How're you doing?"
"Oh, lovely, always lovely," Rolanda greeted and answered, casting a glance toward the Scottish witch seated on the couch with a cup of tea. "Well, look at you… Much better than the last I saw you."
"And when did you last see me?" Holding her cup of tea close to her mouth as she was about to take a sip, Minerva asked feigning curiosity, knowing all too well when Rolanda had seen her last, however, she couldn't exactly say so when in the presence of the young doctor. Hermione busied herself with returning to the kitchen to gather another mug of tea for the new arrival while Rolanda tread to the couch and seated herself down alongside her old friend.
"The good doctor called shortly after you arrived, she needed a little assistance to redress your little knick back there… How is it feeling today?" Rolanda relaxed into the couch and lifted a leg to cross over her other, her arms loosely folding over her chest.
"Better… Slowly better."
"And thank Merlin for that," Hermione announced her presence, returning to the living room, holding out a tea cup and saucer for Rolanda to take. "Nearly half way there, hopefully, she should be just about ready to go for the beginning of the new term… Fingers crossed. Give or take a couple days."
"That's marvellous, truly… I'm glad that you've taken your health seriously this time, Minerva." Rolanda took the offered saucer and tea, eyeing the green eyed woman beside her with a small smirk, and a caring gaze.
"Well, the quicker she's healed, the quicker she'll be rid of me, which is the goal, right?" Hermione stated, standing off to the side with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. Minerva couldn't help but to gaze, mirroring the slight smile, while she spoke.
"And to be left without such a capable nurse? What ever will I do?" Minerva replied wryly, noticing a small glint in Hermione's brown eyes.
"Might have to take a stumble down some stairs, my dear." Rolanda offered with a small chuckle, her gaze travelling between the pair.
"Of which there are so many…"
"Hey, don't give her any ideas, I'm going to have hundreds of accident prone children running these halls in a week and a half… This whole live-in nurse situation is going to have to come to an end." The smirk on the young doctors face, paired with a glimmer in her eyes, was proof enough to the Flying Instructor that Hermione was in higher spirits than when they last met. Yellow eyes glanced at the Scottish witch beside her and saw a similar spark.
"A pity, really." Minerva murmured.
"So," Breaking the interesting bit of tension building in the room, Rolanda turned herself a bit more toward the Headmistress, calling for her attention, and was met by a glance. "What is it that you required of me, Headmistress…"
"Right," Minerva leaned forward carefully, minding her back, as she placed down her saucer and tea cup on the coffee table. "Madam Granger, if you wouldn't mind giving Rolanda and myself a bit of time, we have some term management to go over… And I'm sure you have some errands…"
"Of course, Headmistress," Hermione nodded, understanding the need for privacy between friends. "I have more than enough to keep me busy, potions don't brew themselves…" She stated matter of factly while wandering toward the door. "Call for me when you need me."
Opening the door, she aimed a glance and short wave back toward the women on the couch before departing from Minerva's quarters, leaving Rolanda to scan the side of her face with interest. As far as she was aware, there was no such thing as 'term management' to speak of. Unless some new procedure was introduce… Which she doubted.
Once Minerva was positive Hermione was well on her way back to the Infirmary, and no further interruptions would be had, she met Rolanda's curious gaze and looked into her eyes for a moment.
"Full disclosure, Rolanda… I know that you were in the Infirmary the night I arrived back at Hogwarts," Minerva told her plainly, watching the look on the other witch's face transform from confusion to concern. "I heard you and Madam Granger talking that evening."
"You were asleep." Rolanda stated.
"I wasn't asleep… Not for it all."
Continuing to explain all that she had heard, she watched her friend sip her tea uncomfortably and nod along with the explanation. A heat rose in Rolanda's cheeks. A nervousness. Not for her, not at all for her, but for the young woman who had left those minutes ago. Although, by the look of things, everything was smoothed over but then why would Minerva need to discuss it privately with her?
"She isn't aware that I know about how she feels, and I cannot tell her that I know… I want to spare her that. However, I would like to know how you came across this information… From your perspective." The Headmistress mentioned softly.
"Ohhh dear," Rolanda breathed the words as she leaned forward and placed her tea cup and saucer on the coffee table, much like Minerva had, realising the predicament. "She doesn't know… That you know."
Green gaze met golden and Minerva shook her head, confirming Rolanda's suspicions. She watched Rolanda relax back against the couch and fold her arms loosely across her chest again. A pensive expression crossed her friends features. Rolanda truly had to think about it for a few moments. It seemed wrong to discuss something like this without the affected party present. Especially after multiple conversations with Hermione regarding this very thing. She felt somewhat responsible for it to begin with, by cracking open the can of worms.
"It's important that it remains that way, the last thing I want is for Hermione to feel as though she should avoid, or assume responsibility for something beyond her… These things do happen, but…"
"Minerva, I have to tell you… I do not feel at all confident, or, truthfully, comfortable discussing Hermione with you in this capacity… She's felt horrendous about this," It was a very rare occasion when Rolanda put her foot down and adopted a quite serious tone, even with her, so when Minerva saw the silver haired woman grow somewhat taught in posture, she felt it best to relent. "All it was, was a glance… I noticed a glance… And I addressed it, and the rest… That's Hermione's story to tell."
"Well, I heard quite a bit of it that night…"
"Doesn't matter, I do have to decline telling you anything more, it would be a gross violation of trust and, if I may be so bold, puts me in a rather awkward position." Rolanda was firm. Minerva appraised her with a calm expression and digested her point of view. All in all, it was fair.
"I understand, and I respect that choice." She told her. Relenting in such a way seemed to loosen Rolanda minutely.
"Now what we can actually discuss is how knowing makes you feel… How do you feel about this?"
"At first, shocked… Worried… I felt disbelief," Seeking out words to use, the Headmistress answered slowly, pausing for a moment and rubbing her hands together before they laced on her lap, her eyes meeting those of her friend. "I still don't really think I've managed to understand it, and I don't think it's my place to understand why… But, I do care for her, just not in the ways of… You know."
"Well, sometimes one can easily be fooled, to be sure." Rolanda mumbled quietly, and somewhat more to herself. Of course, it was loud enough for Minerva to hear which caused the Headmistress to arch a brow.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You flirt, Headmistress." Rolanda replied airily, without so much as skipping a beat. She turned her head more and met Minerva's gaze. Her expression was pointed. At first, Minerva blinked, and then her lips betrayed her amusement.
"I certainly do not." She said, almost prepared to laugh at the thought. Rolanda found it far less an amusement.
"You absolutely do, whether you realise it or not, you flirt with her. I've seen it, I'm pretty sure we've all seen it, and just because you don't think you do, doesn't mean that you don't. You might not even realise you're bloody doing it." Explained the Flying Instructor as though she were stating facts. Catching Minerva off-guard, the smile on her lips faltered a little bit.
"I… Have never noticed…"
"And you have ogled her." Rolanda added, suddenly feeling as though she were on roll. Especially now that she could actually say something because it came up as a topic - something she never thought would happen in a million years. Hearing this, the Headmistress nearly looked aghast.
"I most certainly do not!" Minerva's voice rose slightly in volume. To Rolanda, if she had been wearing pearls, it sounded like she would have been clutching them. The widened green eyes she looked into cast their gaze elsewhere, still they shifted about, as though Minerva was recalling something.
"You do."
"I think I would know if I have done that!" Minerva bit back.
"I'm not terribly sure you would, because you certainly haven't been able to detect your own flirting."
Wracking her brain for any memory that she could call upon to prove her friend right or wrong, Minerva felt a flush of her own begin to crawl up the sides of her neck and pinken her ears. What if Rolanda was right? What if she had flirted? Wouldn't she have known it? And as for ogling… She looked at everyone! Well, within reason… And Hermione was another beautiful woman. She appreciated her looks, she'd grown into a stunning woman…
"Dear god… Maybe I have looked at her…" Minerva whispered, horrified.
Triumphantly, Rolanda's pride swelled in her chest. She was not lying, she was stating fact, however, she was planting seeds all over the place, she thought, she might as well become a farmer.
"What do I do? How can I rectify this? What if she believes I've… What if I've led her on? What if I have something to do with her attraction?" The flurry of words pouring out of Minerva's mouth, questions in rapid succession, was enough to make Rolanda's head spin. She needed to raise a hand calmly to quell the Headmistress's urge to further question, wincing at the shrillness of her tone.
"Minerva… She doesn't notice that you do any of these things." Aiming to ease the other woman, the silver haired witch spoke. Minerva peered at her for a moment, her green eyes flashing with even more questions.
"She doesn't?"
"Hardly, remember… She knows you're unavailable, she is a smart woman." Rolanda side eyed her friend with an arched brow.
"Perhaps, I should talk to Madam Granger about this… Clear the air…" Minerva settled somewhat, although her mind was plagued by the fact that a conversation like that worried her a great deal.
Feeling as though her work there was done, Rolanda gave a short nod. Somehow she had managed to steer Minerva in the right direction… It was easier than she thought it would be.
"I think that would be a very wise choice, Headmistress." The yellow eyed woman affirmed with a shallow nod, trying not to sound or look overly pleased with herself.
"Not today… Perhaps, not while she's here but at the beginning of term, possibly." Already the wheels were turning in her mind, and Minerva was powerless to stop them. There were so many unknown possibilities. All she knew for certain was that she wanted the path cleared between them, no secrets, and for their friendship to remain unchanged. She valued Hermione more than she could readily put into words, especially after all the young woman had done for her in the last weeks.
"I will leave you to that, but, Minerva, my wife is waiting… Is it alright if I…" Vaguely pointing to the door that she had entered in, Rolanda aimed a glance at her friend who seemed miles away.
"Oh, yes… Of course, thank you - and, please, give Lavinia my regards." The Headmistress replied distractedly.
"Of course." Rolanda slowly rose from the couch and wandered to the door, pausing to cast a final glance back at her friend still seated, gazing off into space. Sighing deeply, she felt for her friend, seeing as she was stricken by all that she'd learned. She decided on a few parting words. "Be gentle with her, Minerva… It's very hard for women in our positions when we fall in love with the unobtainable… Despite the fact that I'd like to believe that love can transcend things as silly as gender, if it's real, I recognize that this is not always the case. Let her down easy."
With that final nugget, Rolanda excused herself from the Headmistress's quarters and allowed the other woman time to think. What she had said struck Minerva as odd… And interesting all the same. Love transcends… Fall in love with the unobtainable… Although Minerva had heard Hermione's declarations that fateful night, who was to say that the young woman actually felt as deeply as that? To be in love with her? She doubted that. Hermione showed no real signs of it at all. Or she was a phenomenal actress. Either way, at one point in time or another, it would need to be a conversation shared between them. Even if it was uncomfortable, in truth, Minerva hated secrets. They were like a poison. It was best to have it out in the open that way, perhaps, it would even help Hermione move forward as she had so wished to do. Minerva remembered that much - Hermione felt compelled to move on with her life, and that was a reasonable quest.
Perhaps, a conversation could help her accomplish that goal.
In the days that followed, Minerva minded herself far more than she minded Hermione. Still, the young doctor did not present with anything she could point a finger at and say 'There. A sign'. So, her thoughts and investigation turned inward.
As Rolanda had pointed out, she did actually find herself surprised by her wandering gaze. Minerva never realised how often she appraised the young woman. She inspected her quite closely. She read her movements, read her posture, read her lips, as though they were sonnets from her favourite book. Even the smallest little acts like how she often held the handle of her tea cup, holding the cooling tea cups slightly aloft, while reading the Daily Prophet in the morning. Or for how long she heard the water run when the young woman needed to wash her hands. How rarely she let the sleeves of her shirts actually reach wrist, they were always rolled. It didn't matter if she was walking to the bathroom, or walking into the kitchen, or walking over to the couch to sit down beside her, Hermione walked with purpose. Like the pathing her feet took was never considered an afterthought, never questioned, and she had seen this before but Minerva never really had the opportunity to think much of it. They hadn't spent time like this together in such close quarters.
Her eyes glowed with laughter and light and were dimmed just as easily when something came up that jarred her. She could be quite bossy, actually. But it wasn't a bossiness that Minerva found herself irritated by. It was always presented with a caring and thoughtful tone - in fact, as she had discovered, somehow Hermione always found a way to make it feel like it was Minerva's idea all along. Now, that was irritating. She knew exactly what to say, how to phrase something, to get Minerva to abide by an idea or an order. It was only afterward that Minerva realised that the reason was really Hermione. But that irritation was often followed by a pause of reflection. Hermione knew her better than she realised, if she was capable of, not manipulating, but steering her in such a way. Hermione knew her far better than she had previously thought possible. When? How?
On the following Friday, seated on the edge of her bed, at this point, she had altogether grown accustomed to being somewhat naked around the other woman. Wearing a pair of slacks, and her bra unclasped at her back, Hermione kneeled on the made bed behind her for their morning routine of changing bandages. She watched in the mirror above her vanity, inspecting the woman over her shoulder who was carefully tending to her. With delicate fingers, Hermione peeled back the layers of bandages to discover that overnight, with the help of a bit more of a stronger, more potent, version of the potion she'd been using in the previous days, the muscle had done that last little bit of work to become flush. Filled in. The skin, however, needed to be addressed.
In order to ensure that the wound would be packed and healed, they had needed to cut away skin to ensure that it didn't fuse and try to heal over the cavity.
"Minerva, would you mind," Hermione crawled back to get off the bed, gathering the dirtied bandages to dispose of as she did. "Laying down on your stomach, please." Tossing the bandages into the small bin in the corner of the room, the young doctor vacated her bedroom and toward her own, meanwhile, Minerva silently did what was asked of her. She stood up from her seat on the edge of the bed only to lay down on her stomach and wait, quite still. Not a few seconds later did the other woman reenter her bedroom and walk over to the side of the bed.
Hermione glanced down at the smooth, toned back offered to her. Sighing deeply, the corner of her lips upturned. Finally, she could return to normal life and get as far away from the Headmistress as humanly possible.
It had been torture. Pure and unadulterated torture. She wouldn't wish the kind of inward chaos she'd experienced over the last two weeks upon even her worst enemies. She hid it well, but to be so close to Minerva, it was stifling. It was like she couldn't breathe, at times. The more she discovered and thought back to her years at Hogwarts, the more she realised just how much of a blind idiot she'd been about her situation. She needed a break. Badly.
Leaning over the other woman, she delicately grabbed a dropper from her pocket and a small phial from the other. She carefully took that dropper and inserted it into the potion bottle and retrieved a little bit of the chartreuse liquid, then carefully dropped beads of the potion along the perimeter of open skin. Quickly, she discarded both on the bedside table and grabbed her wand. Murmuring low, she circled the wound with the tip of her wand and watched those small beads of chartreuse potion begin to harden. They crept. As Hermione circled the tip of her wand close to the border, she began to make that circle she was painting smaller and smaller, until fresh skin knitted to its centre, closing in over the exposed muscle and blanketing it. Once there was no real injury left to investigate, she let her fingertips graze where it had been. It would take time for the new muscle to strengthen, but that would be by use and activity, a few massages to ensure it didn't knot couldn't hurt either.
"You're good, my dear," Hermione murmured, lifting her hand from Minerva's back to grab the phial and dropper from the bedside table. "Get dressed, stretch the arm, keep it moving… I'll gather my things."
I'll gather my things… Before Minerva could even get off the bed, she lifted her head, turning it, only to see the brunette disappear from her bedroom in her peripheral. The Headmistress could hear her in the other bedroom, shuffling around. It was all rather sudden and she hadn't fully prepared herself.
Getting up from out of bed, she reached behind for what felt like the first time in a milenia and clasped her own bra. The first act of freedom. Then she grabbed a blouse from out of her wardrobe and began pulling it on as she strolled out of her bedroom and down the hall to her spare bedroom, her fingers working casually up the row of buttons.
"Not even time for a cup of tea, Hermione? I didn't realise you had matters so pressing…" Minerva's casual tone made the young doctor look up at the woman lingering in the doorway, leaning against its frame, still buttoning the last few buttons of her blouse. Hermione thought to herself that Minerva had no possible idea.
In those few seconds, a myriad of feelings and thoughts rose within the young doctor, and flashed images in her brain that were unavoidable.
Keeping herself in close check, no one could ever surmise the amount of restraint she had endured since stepping foot in Minerva's quarters. Taking her role as personally as she did, being an instrument of healing for the Headmistress, and her loyalty to friendship, had been tested time and time again.
Now she needed to leave.
Painting her face with amusement and a slight curl of lips, a smirk, Hermione continued to fold her clothes and stash them away in her overnight bag, taking new items out of the wardrobe and doing much the same.
"I have to take inventory of our Infirmary, I have to run down to the Herbology greenhouse and meet with Pomona to check on our stock of ingredients, I have to go over schedules for the returning students who require daily, weekly, and bi-weekly treatments, I need to look over the first year rosters and see what students need medical attention throughout the course of the year and make sure we have what they need… My work never ends, my dear, the only difference now is that, instead of a team of people at my disposal, nurses and such, there's only me - just me."
The Headmistress gazed at the woman folding her clothes and listened. She had some inkling of what Poppy did year after year, but, if she were to be honest, Poppy was incredibly protective of her work. She acted something like a Headmistress herself, the Infirmary was her domain, and it was a solitary life. She didn't include others in her day to day and, evidently, she taught Hermione much the same. But to know that Hermione had a great amount of work to do and with only little more than a weekend to get it done in, she nearly felt guilty for having caused Hermione to spend the majority of the Summer hounding her until the last two weeks of break to finally do something about her own situation.
"The elves can help, I'm sure…" Minerva began to receive a short shake of the head.
"It's not their responsibility, it's mine… I knew what I was signing up for," Hermione told her, folding the last pair of jeans from the wardrobe and slipping them into her overnight bag, before zipping it. "Besides, I'm sure, by now, you'd probably like not to share your space."
With a flick of her wand, Hermione made the bed and closed the newly emptied wardrobe. While green eyes watched on with an unreadable expression, she took the book she had been reading off the bedside table and tucked it under her arm.
Casually, she strolled toward the Headmistress who shifted and pressed her back to the doorframe as the other woman brushed past her and strolled down the hallway to her living room.
The Headmistress felt herself losing her nerve. She knew they had to sit down and discuss what was happening, yet, Hermione was quite prepared to virtually run out her front door unexpectedly. She trailed after the woman, rubbing her hands together.
"Hermione, if I may," Minerva came to rest on the arm of her couch, perching there. "I would very much like to have lunch with you on Sunday, say a proper thank you for all that you've done for me this Summer, as trying as I know I have been… As difficult…"
She was silenced by a look as the other woman slipped into her shoes.
"Firstly, it's my job… Secondly, you had every reason to be resistant, knowing now what I know, I can't say I wouldn't have eagerly felt the same if I were in your shoes…"
"Even still, please… Would you join me for lunch on Sunday, or do you require me to flex some of my Professor-y power to ensure that it happens…"
"Professor-y…" Hermione drew herself up from tying her shoe and stared at the woman seated on the arm of the couch. It was a strange use of words from the Headmistress and familiar… Too familiar. That and the fact that Minerva insinuated a very mild, well meaning threat… It was an odd sort of feeling that began to fill her chest.
Feigning ignorance, noticing the impact the light words had had, Minerva stood from her perch and strolled toward the young doctor with an air of nonchalance.
"Just a lunch, nothing more, I won't take up too much of your time." The Headmistress soothed, slipping her hands into the pockets of her trousers. Brown eyes gazed into green for a number of seconds, searchingly.
This wasn't the first instance of Minerva acting strange the last two weeks. Curiosity about the reasons as to why, perhaps, could be addressed over such a lunch. Relenting, Hermione gave a shallow nod.
"Lunch… We can do lunch, where?" Hermione arched a brow.
"Where would you like?"
Hermione considered the question for a moment before replying.
"My quarters… We can have lunch in my quarters on Sunday… 1 PM?" Offered the young woman as she turned toward the door and reached for the handle.
"Sounds like a good plan, Madam Granger." Minerva smiled.
"See you then, Headmistress." Hermione looked back and gave her a brief nod, then excused herself into the corridor beyond, closing the door softly behind her.
Once she was on the other side, clutching the doorknob in her hand, she paused. A worn look of confusion etched itself upon her features.
"Professor-y." She questioned quietly, trying to understand how Minerva could even conjure such a term that had been shared in the quiet. Her hand slipped from the knob and she began to walk back to her Infirmary.
"Oh fuck… Oh god… Shit, fucking… Arse headed hole…" Groaned the young woman into her hands. Hermione was laid on her back on the grass, covering her face with both hands, and she could feel the sun soaking into her black leggings and tank. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat from having ran with them for quite a few laps, just wanting to work out the tension, but then she mentioned that Minerva had said that word… Professor-y… And she could tell by the deer in the headlights look on Rolanda's face that she was hiding something. Then the dam broke and Rolanda spilled her guts to the stunned brunette.
The two women she laid in front of on the Quidditch pitch that morning looked at each other. They couldn't deny that they felt bad for the turn of events. Lavinia, at this stage, was eager in knowing how it all was going to turn out, seeing as nothing terribly exciting ever happened in her own world, meanwhile, her wife continued to stretch and twist.
"I swear, I didn't tell her a thing… She just knew."
"How…" Groaned the young doctor louder from behind her hands. All she wanted was for the earth beneath her to part and swallow her whole so that she didn't have to deal with it. It had been hard enough as it was. She had managed to make it through the rest of Friday, met with Pomona, started looking over schedules that she continued to work on through Saturday, and suddenly… Boom. It was Sunday morning. She had to have lunch with Minerva who didn't know, she knew, that Minerva knew, the things that she didn't want her to know!
"Apparently, she was awake for a brief time." Rolanda told her, watching her friend slowly drag her hands down her face but only about half way.
"Sounds like it could be worse." Lavinia offered, reaching both hands to hook the toe of her sneaker, stretching out the muscles of her leg and her side. Hermione aimed a look at her, her hands finally falling from mouth.
"How could this possibly be put in the realm of 'could have been worse'? This is humiliating, I am mortified."
"Well, you just spent the last two weeks with her and she was fine, right? She wasn't weird about it, right?" Lavinia reasoned. She glanced between her silver haired wife and her newfound friend laying on the grass.
Hermione's brows bounced minutely as a look of consideration crossed her face.
"Well, not entirely not weird… There were these little pockets of weirdness, just like… A glance or something she'd say sounded… Or was worded strange, but I didn't read too much into it but now…"
"Don't," Rolanda told her, making a point to use a tone of seriousness that would cause Hermione to turn her eyes over to her. She watched the young woman turn onto her side on the grass and rest her head on her hand, wearing a weary look. "Don't read too much into it, you'll go mad… Just go and talk to her, clear the air, smooth things over, who knows… It might be just the remedy you need to move forward with your life. That is what you want, isn't it?"
"Is that even a question?" Hermione muttered, but she saw the value in Rolanda's words. "What time is it anyway?"
Lavina reached for her sweater that she'd discarded and withdrew her watch out of her pocket, her wife leaning over to take a look by force of habit.
"It's around 10:47." The auburn haired witch replied, passing her watch to her wife and holding out her arm for Rolanda to slip it on her wrist for her. She always seemed to have trouble with it.
Nodding her head, Hermione flopped back onto the grass and stared at the blue sky above. She watched a few birds chase each other high above ground and released a sigh. Don't overthink it, she told herself. It could… Actually be worse. Minerva could have heard all that silliness and told her that she never wanted to see her face darken her door again. Yet, maybe, it was because Minerva needed her, or what she could do… Then, again, she could have had St. Mungo's provide another doctor if she had really wanted to. She hadn't. And there she was, again, overthinking.
"You are terrible at self-soothing, aren't you." Rolanda remarked, seeing the clouded expression on Hermione's face as she reached for her bottle of water.
"You have no idea."
After a short while, Hermione got herself up off the grass and grabbed her own sweater from the pile of three on the edge of the pitch and excused herself from the company, thanking them for letting her join in on their early morning routine.
As the pair of women watched the young doctor stroll off the pitch and disappear into the Quidditch team tents to leave, Rolanda felt her wife's cheek rest against her shoulder.
"You know, I really like that woman… She seems to care a lot." Yellow eyes glanced down and Rolanda pressed a light kiss to her wife's forehead.
"Aren't you glad I wasn't that much work?" Rolanda murmured. Lavinia could only laugh and watch her younger wife slowly rise and extend a hand for her to take.
"All I had to do was smile and whoosh… Legs wide open." She replied coyly as the silver haired woman grabbed her hand and rose to stand, giving her wife a warning look, however, her lips did smirk.
"I doubt Hermione has that power with the Headmistress, that's for sure."
"But do you think Minerva could love her?"
Rolanda thought about it for a few seconds, then squeezed her wife's hand before letting it go to gather their things.
"I think so."
And with that, the pair of women followed to return to Hogwarts.