The idea of something being too good to be true struck Hermione multiple times within the first few weeks. Before she could snap her fingers, Halloween had come and gone and they were steadily inching toward Christmas.
Routine had taken place and it was an easy routine. Minerva maintained her post in her classroom, guiding young minds down paths of learning the art of Transfigurations as she had always done. Meanwhile, Hermione continued to spend her days in the Infirmary, having a multitude of injuries roll in from something as simple as a sprain to something far more complex like a spell or a potion gone awry. Quidditch injuries were positively the worst of them all, now that the season was in full swing. Already a number of students had needed to be evacuated to St. Mungo's for things that Hermione could have easily dealt with, should she have had some assistance. It infuriated her to act as triage for the hospital when she was perfectly capable of handling the instances herself. Beyond that, she was still reasonably happy with her post.
Changes had come about slowly as days and weeks drew on. Now when Hermione felt the urge to wander the school, she would once more pause to gaze into the Headmistress's lecture room. She would meet the professor's eye and cast her a discreet, knowing smile that said 'I'll be seeing you in a few hours'.
Their involvement was no secret. It wasn't hidden behind closed doors, especially not after the following evening, after their conversation, Hermione had leaned down and kissed the Headmistress goodnight in front of the staff members in the faculty lounge. It was chaste, but it was also incredibly obvious. Maybe, they had gotten lucky that not one single person chose to ask a question or make a spectacle of it. It could have, also, been the slight glare that Rolanda had given to those who seemed about to address the interaction, unbeknownst to the women creating that brief scene who did not see the look the Flying Instructor was aiming at anyone who's gaze lingered on the pair a second too long.
Inviting each other to their respective quarters a few nights a week, they spent time making dinners together, roaming about each other's kitchens, cleaning up dishes and cutlery, pots and pans, one washing, one drying, and then settling on couches to read, or to talk. All the while, managing one of the golden rules of Hermione's construction with… some ease. There were a number of occasions when passion overrode the sense of the conditions, and even Hermione had to throw in the white towel and put a stop to the intense sessions. At one point, she swore, she could actually feel Minerva grinding herself against her thigh, trying to find release, whether she recognised what she was doing or not.
Everything was so good. So settled. So comfortable. So easy. It instilled a fear in her of losing that, losing what she had right then, that beautiful connection with somebody that was based on adoration, admiration, a strong base of close friendship… She was afraid of what would happen after the build up to that moment was dashed. Could sex ruin it? Could it change it, or pervert the beauty she had found in the chaos? The very thought terrified the young witch who often laid on the couch, spooning the Headmistress from behind, and feeling her hand trace over her own with delicate touches. It felt like the pads of the Headmistress's fingers were trying to memorise every knuckle, every joint and curve her hand possessed. Would that end somehow?
She wasn't ready to let it go. Intimacy was rare in her own experience. What they shared now was pure intimacy, nothing else, and they entered into those moments with the understanding that that was what it was. Minerva never pushed her, she never tried to slide in an untoward remark, she, to the young doctor, seemed to genuinely enjoy being held, or kissing, or running her hands down Hermione's body above the structure of clothing. Never once did those hands venture so far as to grab at or grope her ass, her breasts, or otherwise, rather they almost teased her by seeming close to, however, slipping away to her hips, or ribs, or her back.
It were as though Minerva was awaiting approval, waiting for consent that Hermione had yet to give. The level of restraint was astonishing, because no one that she had ever been physically close to, for any amount of time, had achieved that extent of composure.
She thought about it carefully as she listened to the sounds of snow crunching beneath two pairs of trainers. Beneath quite a few warming charms, the Flying Instructor and the Matron ran along the path around the lake, which had yet to freeze over. The temperature had dropped, snow had fallen now that it was mid-December, however, it hadn't dropped far enough to stop them from running yet.
They were on their fourth lap around the pond when Rolanda puffed heavily and motioned for them to slow down to a walk.
Slowing their pace, Hermione breathed the cool air heavily, glad to not feel it against her bare arms.
"So, how have things been with the missus?" Rolanda asked, her voice a bit gruff from the exertion. She planted her hands firmly on her hips as they continued to stroll.
"Very well," Hermione answered, catching a bit of breath herself. "Can't quite believe it's almost Christmas, time goes by so quickly."
"Aye, it does. Before long it'll be Summer again." Rolanda agreed, squinting against the sunlight reflecting off the untouched, powdery snow lining their trodden running track.
Time seemed to act differently at Hogwarts. It seemed to pass quickly and slowly all the same. It didn't at all feel linear.
"My ex-husb… Ronald… Ronald is getting married next Summer," Hermione announced conversationally, garnering herself a mildly interested look from the silver haired woman beside her. "I need to stop calling him my ex-husband, but, blimey, is it ever hard sometimes."
They had corresponded on a number of occasions since they had met in the tea room in Hogsmeade. At least one owl a week. Sometimes they were lengthy, sometimes they were short little notes, but they were talking again, and much more easily than they had before. Hermione had even found herself looking forward to receiving the correspondence. It felt familiar.
"Yes, I overheard you mention that a few weeks ago. Who's the woman?"
"A lovely woman, I worked with her sister at the hospital for some time, her name is Erica. Erica Barnes… She's a clerk at the Ministry." Hermione found herself casting her face toward the sun, she could feel its rays beating down upon them, soaking into her dark workout attire. At times she felt like a cat who could easily curl up in front of a warm window, it made the ache in her knees and her calves from vigorous activity more manageable.
"Are you going to the wedding? Bit odd that, hmm?" Rolanda asked, eyeing the point in the distance from where they started their work out.
"Not odd. Not now, anyway… We seem to be on the mend, which has been pleasant. When we are good, he's the easiest man in the world to talk to. He invited me to the wedding, and I'm going to go."
"With Minerva, I imagine."
"If we make it that far, I gather so."
Hermione felt her friend touch her elbow and glanced at the other woman's face. There was a subtle expression of concern found there.
"Speaking of, has Minerva been strange with you lately?" Rolanda asked, returning her hand to her hip as they continued to walk onward.
"Strange," Hermione pondered, thinking back, then shook her head. "No, not at all strange. Has she been strange with you lately?" Nothing was out of the ordinary, at least, not to Hermione's knowledge. They had been perfectly fine.
"She's been rather curt lately, I've found. Perhaps, not with me but in general. A bit quick to frustration, it seemed. That's why I asked earlier how things were going." Explained the silver haired witch only to receive a vague look of confusion.
Not once had Minerva been short with her, or curt with her, rather she had been quite the opposite. A bite more stressed, maybe - but that could easily have been explained away by mid-term assessments.
"No… Nothing at all that I can think of, and we've spent a lot of time together as of late."
"Naturally," Rolanda remarked. She guessed it must have all been in her mind. "Perhaps, I'm off base then…"
"When did you notice it?" Hermione asked, not letting it slip so easily in case there was actually something going on that she should concern herself with.
Rolanda gave a shrug of the shoulder, looking at the woman guiding them on their path back toward the school and to leave the lake behind.
"Only the last couple weeks, generally takes a bit longer to strike a tone with Aurora, and it appears as though that time has now been halved. It was only a minor observation."
Hearing that, Hermione hummed softly. It was a strange behaviour, stranger still was that she hadn't really noticed it. It wasn't until a passing thought entered into mind that she really began to look back on their time together. Then, she thought to herself… That certainly couldn't be it. But it was possible.
"Just the last couple weeks, you say?"
"Aye." Confirmed Rolanda, her yellow eyes glancing at the side of the younger woman's face. It appeared as though the doctor was reflecting deeply.
"And she's been getting frustrated," They were just about halfway back to the school when Hermione reached out to stop her friend from continuing forward, causing Rolanda to turn slightly toward her, favouring her weight onto a foot. "Curt, as you said."
"It could all just be in my own head, Granger…"
Minerva had been more persistent as of late… A bit more vocal when they were… At once, Hermione lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Why hadn't she accounted for that?
Seeing the sudden change in Hermione's features, the golden eyed woman folded her arms loosely over her t-shirt adorned chest and eyed her. She paused, waiting for Hermione to explain why the sudden expression of… Worry? Amusement? It seemed torn between the two.
"I think… I might have been blue-balling the Headmistress a bit lately…" Mused the young woman, cursing lightly under her breath. She dropped her hand back to her side and placed both of them on her hips, glancing up at the school and then back upon the Flying Instructor who gazed back at her with a clouded expression.
"Thank Merlin for blessing my ears with a phrase that will bring me much enjoyment in the near future," Rolanda's expression broke and immediately betrayed her amusement, she had to laugh seeing the slight look of wickedness and remorse on Hermione's own face, which only made it all the more funny. "You can't be serious."
Hermione passed her a glance which said 'it's possible', then continued walking up the slope to the school, the Flying Instructor falling into step alongside her.
They muted their conversation when they entered into the halls. It wasn't appropriate when so many groups of students were mulling about, chatting, running around, studying in any open corner.
The women walked in silence to the Infirmary and didn't say another word until they were behind Hermione's office door. Once inside, Hermione offered Rolanda a glass of water, which the woman took and offered her thanks. She dropped down into a chair in front of Hermione's desk while Hermione simply shoved some of her files back towards her chair and seated herself down upon its surface.
"So you and the missus haven't…"
"No, we haven't." Hermione interrupted, her tone even, though not crisp. Rolanda arched a brow.
"I'm surprised."
"Are you?" Hermione leaned on a hand, holding the edge of her desk while she massaged her aching thigh with her other.
"I didn't think people still waited for marriage." It was a light tease, and it did make Hermione smirk a bit, but, truthfully, Rolanda was somewhat taken aback. And, yes, it did explain their absent friends recent behaviour actually quite aptly.
From her own recollection, Minerva hadn't been involved with someone for… Quite a few years. Naturally, there had to be some sort of pent up tension. They were all only human.
"I'm afraid that once we sleep together, it won't be the same." Hermione told her airily, continuing to knead her leg with her knuckles, working on a rather interesting knot of muscle.
"What won't be the same?" Drawing her glass of water to her lips, Rolanda watched the young woman shake her head and sigh quietly.
"Everything… She's helped me rediscover that sex isn't everything." Explained the young doctor, leaning to rest on her opposite hand while she began to massage her other leg. The Flying instructor ahh'd quietly.
"I think… Well, no… I know that sex isn't everything," Rolanda gently agreed, her eyes dropping to briefly watch Hermione's hand knead her other leg. "With Lavinia… The longer we've been together, the more intimate we've become. We made a point for it… We never entered into our relationship purely because we wanted to sleep together. But, when we did, I can honestly say it was one of the most fulfilling experiences I have ever had."
"And, perhaps, someday I'll be ready for it… But, right now, I'm enjoying what we have." Hermione stated preemptively, nervous that Rolanda might have begun to guide the conversation to a place where she might begin to feel undue pressure. Her mind was put at ease when the yellow eyed witch adorned herself with a mild expression, and a small smile.
"You should enjoy it… There is no pressure, no handbook to say you must feel ready by this time and date. I think it's admirable that you're taking the time… And if Minerva gets a little feisty in the meanwhile, let her. Believe me, she'll be far better off."
Hermione didn't say it then, but she thought so too. She didn't want to take the woman to bed only to find herself unable to give her what she needed. Whatever that might have been.
If waiting meant she would actually be able to be in the moment, then she would wait. And so would Minerva.
They chatted idly for a short while, until a few students knocked on the door and alerted Hermione that she needed to return to her duties. It was funny… A little twinge in her stomach seemed to alert her far before there was a knock at the door. Poppy had warned her that the school might call for her attention, but it wasn't until recently that she appeared to be adopting a sixth sense about these things. She almost wondered if the school needed to accept her before it began to happen.
That evening, Hermione returned to her quarters to find Minerva sitting on the couch, her back was to the door and the woman was resting against the arm of it, her legs stretched out along the cushions and crossed at the ankles.
"Evenin'" Hermione greeted, dropping her workout clothes in the chair by the door and creeping forward.
"Good evening… There's some dinner on the counter for you." Minerva told her gently.
Rather than go and grab the plate Minerva had made for her, the witch strolled over to the edge of the couch and laid a hand on the Headmistress's forward, gesturing with a nod for her to move forward a bit.
Minerva did inch forward a little, allowing the brunette to carefully lower herself down behind her, then Hermione gently guided her lover to lean back against her chest as she sandwiched herself between the Headmistress as the arm of the couch. It were those moments that she felt entirely at peace, having the ebony haired witch sitting between her legs, her head resting back against her shoulder, or chest, where Hermione was content just to read along.
"How was your day?" She asked Minerva quietly, pressing a kiss to her hair, then resting her cheek gently against the woman's head as she watched the page being turned.
"Aside from the usual monotony of having to listen to Filius and Pomona argue about… Whatever it was they had chosen to peck at each other with today, it was lovely. Students were well behaved, assignments handed in on time for a change. Yours?" Answered the Scottish witch, fixing her book with one hand so her other could seek out one of Hermione's which she brought to her lips briefly to kiss hello.
"Busy… Nearly thought we were going to have another air-evac today, luckily, it wasn't so dire," Murmured the brown eyed witch, lacing her fingers with the Headmistress's paler ones. "Would you like to stay the night tonight?"
The Headmistress stilled for a moment. Slowly, she angled her head to look up at the face that, then, looked down upon her own, meeting Hermione's eye.
"Stay the night…" She repeated, her tone not giving way to what she was thinking as she eyed the woman who was gazing down at her with mild amusement.
"Yes, sleep… Just sleep… With me. In my bed. Tonight." It was a fair halfway point, Hermione thought. A compromise that went unsaid. Now with the understanding that, perhaps, she might be causing her lover some added frustration, and after having thought about it, she decided to see what it would be like to share a bed with the woman. Just to sleep. Just to see how she reacted to that particular change. It might have seemed small and slightly adolescent, but Hermione did want to ease herself into the possibility of a real future. Something that was tangible. Eventually, they would share a bed. At least, that was her assumption if everything worked out. Might as well try it.
"Not moving too fast you think?" There was a glint in Minerva's eye. Something that, had she not spoken to Rolanda earlier about, she might not have noticed. It wasn't quite resentment, but it was some sort of something that Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on. It wasn't exactly upset, but not entirely… Calm.
"I wouldn't ask you if I thought so… I know it's not exactly all the bells and whistles, your patience with me has been… Remarkable. So, perhaps, together we can take some next steps, hmm?" Guilt. It was guilt that caused that glint in Minerva's eye. She saw it shining through even more so upon addressing the woman's patience. She was feeling guilty about something…
"I think, for now, we should continue to sleep separately." The green eyed woman told her, her tone towing the line somewhere between even, calm, and ever so slightly crisp. Giving her hand a squeeze before letting go of it, Minerva returned to holding her book with both, turning her face toward the pages once more.
The tone Minerva struck with her nearly made her feel embarrassed for asking. Nearly. If she were younger and less aware of her limitations, she probably would have been. In this instance, she was more concerned than anything. Was she pushing Minerva past one of her own limits? Was she considered difficult? They had yet to really have an altercation or disturbance in their peace. They hadn't had an argument, nor a disagreement. Neither of which particularly frightened Hermione, she knew at one point in time or another, they would have a moment where seeing eye to eye would be hard done.
For it to happen now… Maybe, it was best to have it out. Hermione wasn't one to ignore or let something fester. Especially not if it somewhat involved others, and the behaviour Rolanda had described earlier certainly fit that bill.
"You're upset with me, I think." Hermione murmured, once again pressing her cheek to the woman's head and continuing to partially read the book in Minerva's hands. The Scottish witch stiffened a little bit.
"I'm not." The woman replied, her tone carrying discontented notes.
"Yes, you are… Whether you're too kind to bring it to my attention or not, you're upset with me."
"Miss. Granger…" Minerva addressed her with a warning tone, however, her old title lacked the same sort of weight as it would have if she were still adorned in uniform.
"Minerva… You realise, calling me Miss. Granger has zero effect, it's been a bit too long…" The book in Minerva's hands snapped shut and the ebony haired witch tossed it to land with a flat sounding thud on the coffee table alongside them. She lifted herself up into a sitting position and turned on the couch, her feet finding the area rug, and looked pointedly back at the brunette peering at her with interest.
That righteous Scottish rage was building behind those emerald orbs. Hermione, however, remained entirely relaxed beneath the bubbling anger aimed at her with a glance.
"Why on Earth do you continue to needle me when I tell you that I'm not upset." The older witch almost seethed, her eyes flashing as they took in Hermione's composed features.
"Because you are contradicting yourself, Minerva… Your tone, the way you are acting, is not the way you are when you are not upset about something." Hermione reasoned with the ebony haired witch. Minerva gave a look that was the closest thing to a scoff as Hermione had ever seen her give. The Headmistress rose and smoothed her hands down her blouse, strolling away to the bathroom briefly. Hermione heard the water run, she heard the sounds of splashing, and she continued to sit on the couch, resting back against its arm, waiting, until she saw the woman wandering back from down the hallway directly in front of her. Wiping her face with a plush hand towel, Minerva leaned at the corner of the wall, still standing in the hallway, and tossed the towel to hang on one of her shoulders, giving her the chance to cross her arms as she appraised the young woman peering at her from the couch.
"I am not upset."
"What's on your mind…"
"Nothing."
"Minerva… Please, don't play games." Hermione sighed, drawing up a hand to rub her forehead. She knew her lover could be petulant at times, she'd seen it, because Minerva sometimes liked to have her way. She took things hard. Meanwhile, Hermione could be much the same if she felt so compelled. She knew she could. She recognized it. In this case, Minerva seemed not to.
"I'm not bloody playing a game! I'm fine! You are the one continuing on here, testing me, when all I desired was a quiet evening!" Minerva exclaimed, turning the blame onto the woman sitting on the couch, trying to avoid the fact that something was wrong to begin with. Hermione had to bite down on her lower lip, the ridiculousness of it making her want to give an uncomfortable chuckle.
Relenting somewhat, seeing that Minerva had quite readily dug her heels in and wasn't about to budge, Hermione sighed and pushed herself up off the couch to grab herself a glass of water from the kitchen. Grabbing a glass out of the cupboard, she felt a presence standing in the doorway but didn't look up at the woman until her glass was filled and the tap was turned off, then she angled slightly on the spot to rest against the counter and meet Minerva's eye.
Minerva was furious. She was furious for a multitude of reasons. She was upset. She felt pinned by being called out, she hated the fact that Hermione seemed to see through her at every conceivable turn, she despised the fact that her body reacted to the woman in ways that she hadn't been forced to face with another person prior to their connection, and she was… So very frustrated. Weeks of pent up tension in her body did very little good. She'd not had the experience of it before, she never realised what it might feel like, and now, there Hermione stood, in front of her yet out of reach. Entirely out of reach. She hated how it made her feel. She felt silly. Truly humiliated - how was it at all possible that this woman could put up such a resistance where she was failing miserably. It almost made her resentful. Almost.
But she couldn't say that. How horrible would it have been to say that? That made her all the more livid.
Before she could say something irrational, Minerva chose to do the 'right' thing, in her mind, and addressed the young woman.
"I think I'll be returning to my quarters, we'll try again tomorrow night." Minerva told her firmly, taking the towel off her shoulder and turning away from the woman in the kitchen, eager for space as she tread through towards the door, leaving the towel to hang on the back of the couch as she passed behind it.
"If that is what you need, Minerva."
Hermione's controlled voice caused something in the green eyed witch to snap. Need. Needing. Wanting. It unhinged her to hear that string of words and she spun when she was about to reach for the doorknob. Green eyes met brown quickly, noticing that the younger woman seemed to have followed her a few steps outside the kitchen, and she opened her mouth without thinking over her next words.
"Need… Need? What I need?! I need you, Merlin damn it! And if you were a fucking man you would have already bloody given it to me rather than all of this business waiting… Waiting for what? For the next lunar eclipse?! But, here we are! I'm… I'm… I…"
Hermione was stunned. It had to have shown on her face because she watched Minerva stumble over her last words as her brain caught up to her mouth while she came to realise what she had just thundered at the young doctor. A flush crept up the sides of her neck and took place upon her cheeks.
Being entirely prepared for Minerva's anger, knowing the Headmistress well, did not make the words she used any easier to hear. If she were a man… If she were different. If she were more convenient… If she thought with a cock and balls rather than the rapidly beating heart within her chest, she'd have already given the woman what she wanted. All of these thoughts cut her off at the knees. While she had been oblivious in her state of bliss, she wasn't giving the trade off. Meanwhile, there the young doctor was, living in her fantasy realm… If she were anymore mortified, she might have run. Instead, she felt a coolness. A coolness that sunk deep to the bone.
After a few moments of stunned silence, Hermione inched her way to the coffee table where she placed down her glass of water.
"Hermione… I am so…"
"Nope, no… Not ready to hear you tell me that you are sorry yet." Hermione told her, lifting a hand to halt the words threatening to pour over the other woman's lips. When Hermione straightened, her hands smoothing over her waistcoat and coming to settle on her hips, her brown eyes scanned the other woman who seemed frozen to the spot. Being an imperfect person, recognizing just how imperfect, Hermione knew her reaction could be extreme. She didn't want it to get to that point, but Minerva managed to say in a clear, sharp phrase, that left little to interpretation, exactly what Hermione was afraid of. If you were a man… I wouldn't have this problem.
It reminded Hermione that all of this, all of this beautiful and wonderful joy she had been feeling, could be rendered simply an experiment. It was an experimental relationship. She was an equation that, once solved, would either make or break the whole endeavour.
The longer she stared into green eyes, the more of a curiosity she felt herself to be. The more of a curiosity she felt like, the more she cracked under the pressure. The more she cracked, the less stable her decision making became.
"Alright," Hermione stated with an eerie sense of calm. "These last… This month and a half we have had has been… Some of the best weeks I can honestly say I've had in a long time, Headmistress. And, you are right, I am no man - allow me to elaborate that point, if you will." Hermione ventured to say, her toneless voice causing the Headmistress to grimace inwardly. She watched delicate fingers rise and begin to travel the line of buttons, popping them open.
"Hermione, I truly didn't mean to say that I would want you any…"
"Any other way? Well, can't take that back now, can we… Come on then, let's get this over with." Again, her tone lacked any inflection. Hermione tossed her waistcoat down carelessly on the couch and began to take steps toward the Headmistress who watched, horrified that her lover's fingers were quickly beginning to unbutton her crisp, white shirt. Let's get this over with, continued to ring in her ear. What on Earth was she doing?
It took Minerva a moment to realise that Hermione was undressing herself before her, giving her the first glimpse of taught, tanned skin she had ever seen beneath cotton. Her heartbeat skipped but it was uncomfortable.
"Hermione, please… "
The young doctor's expression was muted, but Minerva could see in the depths of her eyes that she was conflicted, hurt, and the glossy look she was being given even as those fingers continued down the line of buttons told her that the woman… She looked like she was holding back more emotion than she would let play, near tears. Minerva was dumbfounded when the young woman parted her button up to reveal a teal bra, a flat, taught stomach, and rolled her shirt off her shoulders, tossing it back on the couch along with her discarded waistcoat.
"You're overdressed, Minerva." Plainly put, Hermione eyed the woman's blouse housed chest, reaching behind herself to unclasp her bra but before she had the chance to reach it, the Headmistress rushed toward her and grabbed hold of the arms behind her back to stop her from releasing the clasp, thus stopping the woman from undressing herself further in front of the horrified witch.
Drawing Hermione's arms quickly back to her sides, her hands holding to Hermione's wrists a bit more tightly, the Scottish witch couldn't believe what the young doctor had almost done. Damning her Scottish temper and the way she had spoken, she regretted it deeply. The young woman in her grasp remained entirely calm, too calm, and, being that close, it was the first time she had seen more of the woman. The only tells were that her breathing was not even, and she appeared to be quivering with adrenaline. It was not the way Minerva wanted it to be, that this would be the first time she saw her lover's bare skin… Along with a blank, empty expression adorning a slender, beautiful face.
"This isn't what I meant… This isn't what I want." She told Hermione quickly quickly, back peddling, while she searched brown eyes, her own of green trying to convey that she didn't want the young woman to actively force herself to please her. The light within them had diminished, extinguished entirely. Hermione sighed deeply, unaffected.
"No? Would it be easier for you to take if it was from a man? Or do you not want me right now because it's not on your terms, Headmistress…" The monotone the young doctor had adopted, the way she seemed to be disassociated with the entire circumstance, struck Minerva as bizarre. It was strange, uncomfortable, and it made her all the more aware that she had deeply impacted the witch who had been ready to bare herself in front of her.
"I should have told you that I've been having some… Difficulty. I've never experienced this…" Quietly, the Headmistress finally admitted that she had been having some conflict. Pursing her lips, feeling the green eyed woman's hands loosen around her wrists, granting her some freedom, she still couldn't will them to touch the woman standing in front of her. It was dangerous - considering the only thing on her mind was that she should just take the woman to bed, give herself over, see if it would effectively end their brief courtship. And if it didn't? Well… She wouldn't know what to do then.
On one hand, she was so fucking hurt by what Minerva said. On the other hand, she, herself, felt guilty for pushing Minerva to a point where she had to be compared to something she couldn't compete with. She couldn't compete with a man, because she wasn't one.
How could she compare herself to something she wasn't?
"I cherish you, you know… I bloody adore you," Hermione breathed, her eyes deeply meeting and gazing into green as she tried to explain her extreme behaviour. "I want to be ready to give it all up, to feel like… This isn't some test. Do you even know how good it feels for me to be involved with someone who didn't appear to be in it for a pay off?"
"I should have never said what I said." Minerva murmured, her hands gliding up bare arms to rest on either side of the woman's neck. Hermione couldn't help but feel comforted by the tender touch and the feel of Minerva's thumbs brushing her cheeks, however, she had to turn away when a hard tug pulled at her stomach.
Minerva didn't move as she saw the young woman return to the edge of the couch. Hermione grabbed her shirt and quickly pulled it on, running her hands behind her neck to lift her hair from out beneath her collar before quickly buttoning her shirt.
"After we sleep together, you'll know if being with a woman is something you can tolerate, and, if you can't tolerate it, then things will change… I'm not ready for things to change. I have loved being close to you the way we have been," Hermione told the other woman firmly, tucking her shirt into her trousers, then reaching for her waist coat to pull on and button up. "I know I have limited time and you won't wait forever, and I never expected you to… I thought inviting you to sleep in my bed would be a decent compromise, but… I realise now, it's just sleeping. It's not what you want, I'd just be plying more intimacy on top of intimacy, and that… Well, I won't force you to feel any more discomfort than you already do."
Glancing down at the time on her wristwatch, that tugging in her stomach became more persistent. The Infirmary was calling and the longer she waited, the more painful that feeling would become.
"Hermione… Stop for a moment…"
"I can't stop, Headmistress… There's an emergency, I need to go to work." Hermione told her as she walked back toward the door, and the woman standing off-centre of it. She hesitated there, then leaned to press a chaste kiss to Minerva's flushed cheek.
"Stay here if you want, I'll sleep in my lab." She told the ebony haired witch who wore a similarly conflicted expression, before she reached behind the woman for the doorknob and squeezed herself out of her quarters. She broke out into a run back to the Infirmary, wondering what would be on the menu upon her arrival, and pushing away every intrusive thought that weakened her. It wasn't the time or place.
Minerva could hear the hard, fast footsteps echoing down the corridor beyond the door and then silence. The young doctor had blown her expectations out of the water by her reaction. It was a sickened feeling to think that her lover had nearly just exposed herself without feeling a singular ounce of want to do so, just because Minerva finally lost her nerve and snapped for lack of control over her own attraction.
Taking a steadying breath, the ebony haired witch was vibrating with anxiety. She felt cold and hot all at the same time. She tread forward lightly and seated herself down on the couch, reaching for the glass of water Hermione had barely touched to drink from it, wetting her suddenly dry mouth.
When she reached a point, she knew, she could speak out of turn, shout without thinking of the ramifications. She'd done exactly that when she insinuated that a man would have… She needed to take another sip of water and clear the thought from her mind. Hermione had been upfront with her feelings to a staggering extent. Minerva knew that the young woman felt strongly for her, she never tried to mask it.
Beginning to see that she had been less than upfront with her own feelings, leaving it up for interpretation - that and the fact that she had blundered terribly those moments ago -, made her take into account that Hermione couldn't possibly know that this was no test. There was no experiment to be seen or had. Minerva was more than aware that Hermione's body was no obstacle because it was her. It was the woman, in all her stunning glory, that drew Minerva in; it was who she was, what she stood for. It had nothing to do with whether or not she was a man, or wasn't a man, it was just her. The rest didn't matter.
They had yet to fight. They hadn't even a partial disagreement between them. And this had been a big one.
Shame wasn't a feeling that Minerva was altogether accustomed to feeling. But as she pieced together everything Hermione had said, the way she had said that the last weeks had meant so very much to her, that the intimacy had held such weight, and that she wasn't ready because she didn't want their bond to change, it made her feel ashamed of herself to think that she had hurt the woman who cherished her so to the point where she was willing to throw it all away, throw down her clothes, because of misplaced anger.
Minerva felt terrible.
Downing the last few ounces of water in the glass, she numbly drew herself up off the couch and wandered down the hallway slowly. She turned into Hermione's bedroom, a room that she had only entered into once or twice, and found herself turning on a bedside lamp and opening dresser drawers. She withdrew a pair of pyjama pants and one of the young womans' tank tops, a looser one, considering her chest was a little more abundant than that of her younger lover's.
Undressing from her school attire and folding it, leaving it on a chair in the corner of the room, Minerva turned toward the clothes she had laid out for herself on the bed and dressed herself. She pulled back the blanket and slipped between the sheets and curled onto her side facing the bedside table. Reaching for the lamp, her hand hesitated, then retracted back slowly beneath the covers. She left it on.
There she lay, plagued by the comprehension she was suddenly beginning to experience regarding the course of events until, eventually, slumber sent the woman into an uneasy sleep.
Not once was her slumber interrupted, even by the woman whose bed she slept in.