Confronting her own feelings about the young doctor who had not ventured back to her quarters that previous night, Minerva called for a house elf to deliver her new clothes the following morning. She got dressed for the day, folded the pyjama's she had worn to bed that night, and found herself standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom. After she had washed her face and brushed her teeth using a spare toothbrush that Hermione had offered her on a few occasions, she leaned on the vanity and just looked over her own features.
Her green eyes bore into the reflection, and the eyes peering back with the same expression.
It wasn't about sex at that point. That wasn't what was frustrating her beyond measure. It was that place beyond intimacy, beyond the quiet, relaxation. It was that need to connect with the person who had already assumed possession of her heart and mind. Steadily downward, Minerva had fallen deeply for the young, compassionate, and determined healer. She couldn't say with resolute certainty when it happened, or how, but she knew she had fallen.
And then she imploded.
Grieving her actions more than she could say, she turned away from the mirror, unable to look even herself in the eye.
Ensuring that she had her wand and that her hair was tied back into its signature bun, she left Hermione's quarters and checked the time on her own wrist. Classes were about to begin.
Briskly, the ebony haired witch walked through the castle, joining the students in her classroom as they, too, were entering in. It was a Quidditch match day, one of the last before Christmas, and the school was positively buzzing with excitement. The usual rivalry between Ravenclaw and Slytherin was afoot.
There was a level of distraction among the students when it was a match day. Minerva could hardly blame them, but it did make wrangling the class into action a bit more trying.
Finally managing to get her pupils into gear, the ebony haired witch began wand work instructions, all the while, her mind drifted.
By the time afternoon rolled around, the faculty and the students were leaving the school and wandering down to the pitch in droves. It was a sea of scarves and posterboard, house flags, and among them, walking down the trodden path toward the stadium alongside Septima and Pomona, Minerva strolled and tightened her tartan coat around herself just a little bit more.
Splitting off from the students, the faculty members made their way up the rickety wooden stairs, climbing higher and higher into the stands to seat themselves in the faculty box. Minerva was not surprised to see Hermione standing off to the side, chatting to Rolanda, adorned in a knee length grey wool coat. Everyone was taking their seats, carrying on their idle conversations, meanwhile the Headmistress stole glances from her spot between Aurora and Filius at the brown haired woman who didn't pass much of a glance back toward the rest of the group. She couldn't really determine what they were chatting so quietly about, however, neither of them looked troubled.
With the stands filled to the brim with excited students, Rolanda patted Hermione's arm and then straddled her broom, pushing off and up into the air to speed downward toward centre pitch, where sat the long standing Quidditch chest. The teams made their way out of their respective tents, stradled their brooms on snowy ground, before lifting off into the sky to assume their positions.
From where she stood, leaning against the edge of the box in the corner against one of its walls, Hermione had a clear view of the players flying into the sky. She could feel eyes burning holes into her at some points from somewhere behind in the stands a foot or two away, however, she maintained her own business. There had already been some very close calls during Quidditch matches, she hardly remembered the players being that rough when she watched Harry and Ronald play in her young years.
Suddenly, the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch were released and they sped off in their chosen directions mere moments before Rolanda tossed the Quaffle up towards a near cloudless blue sky and between the two team captains, causing an immediate stir among the players who aimed to snatch it.
The roar of the crowd was deafening as the fast paced game began, houses vying for different teams to win.
It was hard for Minerva to concentrate on anything other than the game, especially since her love of it, and the fact that she really didn't have any opportunity to do anything otherwise, which alleviated some of her worry a little bit.
With a close eye on the players, having to duck a few times to ensure that her head wouldn't be kicked off by hanging feet, Hermione almost felt lulled into a false sense of security when she noticed a player veering off their expected course.
She had to squint her eyes against the sunlight in order to catch the sight in time.
A beater swung hard and sent a bludger hurling toward a Slytherin chaser. Distracted by the direction of the Quaffle, the girl took an intense blow, knocking her clear off her broom that she held onto with a hand for dear life.
Faculty member's stood in the stands, Quidditch players whizzed past the blond chaser who seemed to be losing the battle with her grip. Hermione could see the pained expression on her face in the distance. Although the girl would easily be cushioned from her fall, it seemed like fear and, quite potentially being hurt, rendered her into inaction. Rolanda zoomed across the sky toward the young woman, however, she was fighting against a wave of swarming players.
In a snap decision, Hermione grabbed Rolanda's spare broom from the corner and took a flying leap off the faculty tower, careening towards the ground and at a sickening speed before managing to wedge the broom between her thighs. The yelling and the ruckus she left in her wake as faculty members rushed forward to watch just as she managed to begin her ascent, guiding her broom towards the player, was incredible. Minerva, suffice it to say, nearly had a heart attack when she watched the brunette cast herself over the hip tall barrier separating them from a death drop.
"I didn't know she could fly!" Septima yelled from behind the nearly green faced Headmistress.
"She can't…" Minerva murmured, watching in complete terror as Hermione weaved none too smoothly between a still active game.
In a split second, Rolanda had managed to clear her way through and was trying to get to the player from the other direction.
Speeding her way toward the Matron and the player, it took about a moment for another loud crack of a bludger bat to see that Hermione was closing in on striking path.
Thinking on her feet, Rolanda reached into her robes and grabbed her wand to send a deflection spell toward the bludger that was closing in, however, just a second to slow.
Hermione didn't see it coming, but she sure as hell felt the impact when the shot put sized ball of rage smoked her clearly in the back.
If Hermione had been paying any attention, she would have heard the sounds of students going crazed at the sight of her lurching forward on her broom, slipping, but managing to hold on to it with her hand and her hooked leg. Grunting through the shock and the pain radiating through her shoulders and her left side, she managed to pull herself up and re-mount her broom then close that bit of distance to the hanging girl.
"Hold on to your broom!" She called out through the searing pain sending alarm signals through her left side.
The young blond merely nodded her head as Hermione withdrew her own wand and cast a sticking charm to the Slytherin's gloved hand. Sure that she wouldn't lose her grip, aided by the spell, she looked up to see a positively red faced Rolanda on the other side.
"Are you alright, Granger?" She called worriedly through the cutting wind. At their height, she was somewhat surprised the brown eyed witch hadn't been knocked off her broom by the breeze alone.
"Fine, I'm fine… Help me get her down to the pitch so I can assess… I'm assuming you got yourself hurt, right?" Hermione and Roland sidled up to either side of the girls' broom and took hold of it, taking care to make their descent gradual.
Most eyes in the faculty stands were on the Headmistress who had gone from shades of green, to red, to ghostly white as she watched the scene unfold at the other end of the field.
Cutting between staff members to get to the stairwell down, by the time she reached the ground, some students were already helping the Slytherin girl off the field with a stretcher, meanwhile, Hermione was walking alongside them. The game raged continuously above their heads and, before long, the scene was entirely forgotten. Neither team had managed to catch the Snitch yet, so it was still on. Seeing that Hermione appeared to be alright, the Headmistress decided it best to return to the booth… She would check in with the young woman later, knowing that now was not the time.
When Minerva returned to her seat, she felt like every inch of her skin was covered in a layer of sweat. Her heart was still rapidly beating in her chest to the point where it almost made her feel ill.
"Can't say I'd ever imagined Poppy doing that!" Pomona chuckled, elbowing the Headmistress in the side.
"That's because she wouldn't! Having a young Matron seems to have its perks, luckily she got to Miss. Clearview in time, isn't that right, Minerva!" Filius joined in. Minerva could only sigh deeply, willing her body to stop reacting to the sheer amount of panic she'd been put through.
Hip dislocation was tricky business. The moment the young girl had been put on the stretcher, the way her leg was bent, told Hermione that was exactly what she was dealing with. To perform the proper reduction technique in order to align the ball back into its socket required an extreme amount of force, and in some cases, such as this one, surgery.
Angrily, Hermione sent an urgent owl for medi-transport and gave the girl enough sedative potion to knock out a grown ogre.
If she had a team of her own and an operating room at her disposal, she wouldn't have needed to send the girl all the way to London in order to fix this injury. Hermione knew how to fix it, she knew how to heal it, although she had majored in General Surgery, she knew her way around Orthopaedics better than some Attendings. The fact that she was handcuffed into doing nothing royally enraged her. She felt like she was only capable of doing half of what she knew. The rest was wasted.
To add insult to injury - rather just injury -, she had made a snap judgement call that landed herself somewhat hurt.
Maybe it was the adrenaline or the hubris, but seeing that girl dangling metres above ground with nary a net to catch her, even though magic was always accounted for, she couldn't help but to do something instead of standing there like a useless statuette of the doctor she used to be.
Standing in front of her examination room mirror, even though it was rather small to be taking a look over her shoulder in, she could already see the etchings of a fine bruise just starting to form off-centre of her spine on the left side. It looked like someone had beaten her ribs with a bludger bat. It was ugly, still, she had mobility and it wasn't so bad that she couldn't still tend to her duties.
When she heard her office door open, she snatched her blouse off the examination room bed and quickly began to button it, turning her back to the partially open door of the room. The examination room door opened wider and revealed two witches, worriedly looking in.
"Oh, blimey… Thank Merlin, are you alright?" Rolanda asked hurriedly. Hermione looked past her shoulder in the reflection of the mirror and saw Minerva and Rolanda standing there in the doorway, still in their coats. Someone must have caught the snitch…
"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" She answered, turning around while tucking her shirt into her trousers. She glanced at the Headmistress who, much her to surprise, looked an odd shade of green.
"Because you took a hit like a bloody champion, that's why… Delicate creatures like yourself aren't meant to be having conversations with a bludger, you know." Rolanda remarked pointedly, surprised that Hermione seemed to think nothing of it.
"I was tortured for forty eight hours by Bellatrix Lestrange once, I think I can manage a bludger," Hermione's brows rose a little bit, punctuating her point that had both Minerva and Rolanda glancing at each other. "Just bruised… That is all, pride a little wounded, nothing more."
Minerva began shrugging off her coat but Hermione's next words stopped her.
"Really, ladies… I'm entirely fine, I have no need for company…"
Seeing a little exchange of looks between the Headmistress and the young doctor, Rolanda decided to take her leave, knowing a little of what had happened but not the entire extent.
"Well, just to make sure you're alright, at least let your Headmistress give you a hand." Rolanda told the brunette with a mild look of seriousness before she turned, clapping Minerva on the shoulder, and gave the women their privacy.
After a few moments, Minerva did shrug her coat off her shoulders despite the heavy sigh she heard from the younger witch.
"Really, Headmistress… You have nothing to worry about, you can go about your business…"
"You are my business." Minerva simply said, returning to Hermione's office to hang up her coat on the coat rack. She aimed a glance toward the doorway when she heard footsteps, where stood the brown eyed woman leaning against its frame, watching her.
"I don't have to be."
Tucking her hands casually into the pockets of her trousers, the young doctor's eyes scanned the woman's face as she turned slightly on the spot toward her.
Minerva's gaze held within it a look of remorse, as well as the residual panic from earlier, mixed with affection that just barely shone through. The Scottish witch reached out a hand and gently pushed the office door properly closed.
"I would like to talk to you about last night." She said, twisting the locking mechanism and hearing it spring into place. She met an unwilling gaze.
"It's entirely unnecessary," Hermione stated simply, airily, as though it were more an inconvenience than anything else. "I think we have a really good idea, at this point, where our priorities lie and it'd probably be best if we leave it at that."
"Priorities? And what are my priorities?" The tone edged her toward incredulity, somewhat taken aback by the way Hermione was gazing at her with unfeeling, guarded, eyes.
"Headmistress, I beg you," The young doctor began to take steps through the room to the other side and the opposite doorway, heading toward her potions laboratory. "Leave the way you came in, I would open the door for you, however, you'll find that form of chivalry most often with men…"
Astonished green eyes watched the lithe woman disappear into the opposite room, leaving her to stand there somewhat torn between feeling anger and a shocking amount of hurt. Pressing on, the Headmistress tentatively took steps toward the lab and tread into the large, dungeon-esque room. She eyed the hanging ingredients and the numerous bottles lining shelves, her gaze eventually landing on the woman who had the bridge of her nose pinched between her index and thumb where she stood alongside a large circular, antique wooden table where her cauldron bubbled away.
"Can we not resort to low blows…"
"Minerva… There is nothing around here for you, or me, to fucking blow… Blow jobs - not included, for further instructions, please read the manufacturer's pamphlet…" Mumbling the last bit to herself, Hermione dropped her hand from her face and folded her arms over her chest, gazing up at the hanging herbs.
She was quick witted… Minerva gave her that. Quick witted, tired looking, and all Minerva wanted to do was hold her close, beg for forgiveness, just to feel her long slender fingers curl into the fabric of her blouse, holding tightly back. Hermione appeared to be questioning everything. She was pushing her away, and for good reason. So, Minerva needed to push back.
"I love you."
Silence.
Brown eyes fell upon the witch standing about a foot inside the room. The Headmistress spoke the words as though they were a secret she was afraid to tell, leaving the younger witch to question it, at first. She looked into green eyes and, as she did, saw that they shone with a conflict of emotions.
"I love you…"
"I heard you the first time." Hermione interjected quietly, trying to determine what she felt hearing those words spoken by thinner lips. She didn't know how to feel. What did hearing that change? Nothing? Everything?
Closing a bit of that distance, the Headmistress apprehensively, slowly, crept forward until she could run her hands down Hermione's upper arms, arms that remained protectively over the young doctor's chest.
"It was never about sex," Minerva told her, bending slightly at the knees to catch the eyes that were casting downward and away, forcing her to peer into green orbs while the woman who they belonged to pieced together for her why she had had such an adverse reaction the night before. "It was… Never purely about sex. I've never wanted to be as close to someone, to lie with them, the way I wanted to be close, and lie, with you… It's not about sex…"
Hearing her repeat that fact, over and over again, Hermione felt herself react, despite herself. She took a deep and steadying breath and then sighed, her serious gaze and slight frown causing the Headmistress to continue gazing into her eyes, imploringly. The hands resting on her upper arms gave the slightest squeeze.
"I've felt this way for days, knowing it, that I have loved you," Peering into eyes that appeared to be hiding a war raging behind them, Minerva's voice was lower, softer, as she continued to explain. "And all this time we've been spending, and… The other things we have been doing, I've never had to experience desperation the way you've made me experience it… In my anger I said something that compromised everything, but I need you to know that I am truly, deeply sorry that I said what I did, in the way that I did, because I was weak in that moment…"
"Why could you not just do the typical human thing and tell me that I was pushing you too far? Be honest with me." Hermione asked, her tone, finally, giving off the inflection that she felt something other than abject indifference. Hearing a bit more life in her voice, Minerva felt soothed.
"Because… I'm Minerva McGonagall - I don't get pushed too far, I have a firm handle on myself, and I know exactly what I'm getting myself into and I understand the expectations… Until I don't. And then I break down and have a temper tantrum."
She wanted to be just as mad as she was when she woke up that morning, but the earnest admission of what she knew to be true began to chip away at that anger. Hermione shifted, the slight movement making her wince as a shooting pain sent ripples through her side. The wince and the brief stiffness felt beneath her hands made the Headmistress aware, once again, that the brunette had taken a hit. The flashing imagery of it filled her mind and brought about that same sickly feeling she had gotten upon witnessing it first hand, helplessly, from the faculty viewing box.
"Can I check you… Please…" Minerva asked softly. Hermione, seeing the expression the Headmistress was giving her, briefly met her eye, then gave a small nod before turning around toward the bubbling cauldron on the table behind her.
She lifted her hands and began to unbutton her shirt enough so that, while it remained quite tucked into her trousers, she could still slip the fabric down her arms and let it hang at her wrists, baring her back to the woman behind her.
Green eyes traced over the reddened skin where blood had begun to pool beneath. The left side of her back from the bottom of her shoulder blade to just beneath her ribcage was one big red patchy mass that appeared to want to curl around her side to her front. In a day or two, the woman would be black and blue… She could almost see it now.
"Whatever compelled you to do what you did astounds me…"
"She dislocated her hip, that's why she didn't want to let go of her broom, and why she didn't try to re-mount it… And she shouldn't have, one wrong move and it could have been made all the more worse…"
"Still," Minerva told her. "I nearly fucking died."
It was a rare occasion that the green eyed woman cursed. Hermione felt her fingertips lightly graze her affected skin softly, a tender featherlight touch upon its inspection.
"How much do you really trust me, my dear?" Hermione asked, honestly wondering about whether or not Minerva did in fact trust her at all.
"More than you think." Replied the woman behind her, the obvious tenderness in her voice comforting the younger witch.
Not ready, still, to slip between the sheets with her lover in the way she might have preferred, nor ready to hand over the whispered words Minerva had gifted her with yet, and seeing as the compromise of simply sharing a bed to be less than what the Headmistress required… Hermione was forced to give thought to alternatives.
The fact that Minerva had willingly, albeit a bit scaredly, admitted that her growing attraction had evolved into something far more serious, and that had been a large part of why her mounting sexual frustration had caused her to act out, did soothe the doctor in a bizarre way. It made sense now. Where as before, Minerva's explosion had made very little sense prior to the knowledge Hermione had obtained.
Something had to give.
She did want to give the woman something. Just not everything.
"If I told you to go lay down on the couch and over there, by the corner, would you do it without protest?"
Behind her, Minerva's gaze shifted over to the addressed piece of furniture against the wall. A black leather sofa, much like the one in Hermione's and her own quarters. Large, cushy looking, it sat there with vacancy.
Unsure of what she was being asked but wanting to prove her willingness, Minerva replied.
"I would - for you, I would."
"Then will you, please." Hermione gently ordered the woman behind her, beginning to draw her shirt up her arms and shrugging it back onto her shoulders. She heard the woman's footsteps and the sound of weight upon leather. By the time she turned around, there the woman was, laying on the sofa, her head resting upon its short arm, hands laced on her stomach, and legs crossed at the ankles.
Her eyes were closed.
"Now, I'm going to trust that you will keep your eyes closed for the duration, and I need you to relax." Hermione told her with a slightly authoritative tone. The woman laying across the room cleared her throat quietly, fidgeting somewhat, but gave a blind nod.
"If that is what you require, I will try." The Scottish witch told her.
Reaching for her wand, the young doctor's hand curled around its handle and withdrew it from her waistband.
Behind closed eyes, senses were heightened. Minerva listened to the bubbling cauldron and heard faint rustling, but little more than that. No footsteps telling her that the younger witch was shuffling about, no more orders spoken by soft lips, just the sound of her even breathing and the slight presence of her own pulse in her ears.
Quietly, Hermione murmured and gave her wand a vague swish, watching lavender strands extend and wrap themselves around the Scottish witch for seconds until they dissipated into thin air.
Minerva felt a warmth enrobing her briefly, then it faded.
Testingly, her shirt still open, Hermione drew her hand to her own stomach and lightly dragged her own nails across her skin.
The sensation caused the Headmistress's eyes to snap open, her hands grabbing to any part of the couch to push herself up with.
"Minerva… Lay back down…" Ordered Hermione firmly, she watched the woman look down to find herself still quite clothed, despite the fact that she was positive she had felt nails raking over her skin.
"What in Merlin's bloody name…"
"Lay… Back… Now, Headmistress," Hermione's deepened voice, paired with her commanding and self-assured tone, made green eyes aim upon her briefly. "I'm not going to ask you a third time, so, please… Lay back down, relax, and just feel me."
Just feel me… The Headmistress heard her say. It was a form of magic, she supposed, and one she hadn't ever experienced before. Slowly, the ebony haired woman did as she was told, her senses alight, while she lowered herself back down and laid, eyes closed, awaiting the brunette's next moves.
Hermione couldn't deny that she enjoyed having that level of control over the woman who laid there. Little did Minerva realise just how much power she'd handed over to the woman who she couldn't see was untucking her shirt and peeling it off.
Feeling what felt like a sweeping of something down her arms and then light touches behind her own back, followed by a release at her front… The green eyed witch couldn't define what it was.
Hermione watched a crease begin to form between Minerva's brows. She was trying to figure out what was happening, unaware that Hermione had merely just unclasped and removed her bra.
Lifting a hand, Hermione trailed delicate fingertips down the centre of her chest, over her sternum and watched the Headmistress draw her bottom lip between her teeth. The woman breathed just a little bit heavier, her body tensing just that little bit more, while Hermione looked on with increasing curiosity.
Although the touch was light, the Headmistress felt it permeate through her body. It felt like Hermione was right there, touching her bare skin, even though she knew, and could still feel, that she was entirely clothed.
"This is not a reward for poor behaviour…," The young doctor murmured aloud, her own hands unexpectedly slipping to her own breasts and squeezing them, none too softly. In an instant, the Headmistress was hissing her name and arching her back, her hands again seeking purchase of any cushion she could find to hold tightly to as she felt the onslaught of sensation. "Just a little something to take the edge off."
"Please… I beg you…." Groaned the Headmistress, her roughened tones cut short by a gasp when she felt her nipples begin to be rolled by decisive fingers. Hermione watched her grit her teeth, curse, and hiss in pleasure the more she squeeze, pinched, rolled, and tugged the erect nubs between her thumb and index. She was already wet, how could she not be? She had her lover begging, moaning her name, writhing with her legs squeezing tightly together because each and every new and unseen sensation was shooting electric signals directly between her thighs. Hermione knew it, because she also felt it. She was causing it. And it was more than a little alluring to be the cause of that effect on the other woman.
The poor Headmistress had waited long enough, perhaps next time she would feel more sensual about it. But, for now, she could easily read between the writhing and the guttural moans of want that Minerva needed a quick release.
Anchoring herself back against her work table, a wicked smile gracing her lips, Hermione continued to appraise the Scottish witch with passionate joy while she played with her own nipple and slid her other hand down into the button on her own trousers, releasing it, and unzipping. With a bit more room, the pads of her fingers easily slipped into her own knickers and grazed over a neat mound of curls, feeling moisture when they finally sunk low enough into the fabric.
Slipping her index and middle finger between her soaked and sensitive folds, she was none too surprised when Minerva nearly screamed her name in sheer delight. She heard the leather of the couch creaking in the woman's grasp and began to wonder whether or not those nails would leave marks on her furniture.
At that point, Hermione finally released a desperate sound as she began to vigorously toy with her clit.
Minerva was positively beside herself. On instinct, she spread her legs impossibly wide just to feel more, the fact that she was clothed and a hand was not actually actively guiding her toward release was entirely forgotten. Shutting her eyes tightly to keep them from flying open, it all seemed to happen in an instant when she felt that hand furiously rubbing over most sensitive flesh, while another found itself firmly wrapped around her throat, an act of pure domination.
That was the moment stars began to explode like fireworks behind her eyelids. The sound of release she heard feet away seemed to meld with her own vocalisations. She came harder than she ever expected to, after weeks of teasing and feeling like a mad woman.
It was hard to say when the hand she felt between her thighs left the region. Even harder was it to pinpoint when the brunette, fully dressed, lowered herself down to lay herself on top of her panting, dishevelled lover. Finally, Minerva opened her eyes to see soulful brown orbs peering down into them, while tanned delicate fingers brushed wisps for loosened locks from her brow.
Minerva could have very nearly cried.
"Next time… Just tell me when you're feeling a little too amped up, I'm sure we'll be able to work something out… Doctor's orders." The young woman told her darkly, although quite seriously all the same. Minerva gave a shallow nod, closing her eyes once more when she felt the young woman's forehead press to her own.
Hey lovely peoples,
Probably going to need to take a bit of a break in the near future, depends on my scheduling. I've been lucky this far to have a bit of time and luckier still that I'm a bit of a fast writer when I want to be and the ideas flow. So I hope you are all doing well, but just giving a bit of a heads up.
I just want to give a special thanks to Lib McGranger, Buf87, Skytie, natureisneverspent, Ermer, LunarMiko07, sammcdore, minervaswife, and Mischiefmanaged09 - who have been like super active (like really active) at leaving comments on the story and being incredibly supportive of the content. Thank you so much, your comments drive the story (basically drive my inspo) so I really, deeply, from the bottom of my heart, appreciate them.
And everyone else who is reading along, or I haven't mentioned, I do thank you too! It really does mean the world to me that you're taking the time. I see the views, I know you're there, and I'm thinkin' of ya.
Take care everyone!
P.S. Do something nice for yourself. Even something small. Get a snack you really like. Get a bevvie you really like. Treat yourself to something this week that makes you happy. Even if it's as simple as just taking five minutes that you really need just for you. You deserve it.