Once the medi-vac team arrived to transport the young Quidditch player, which had been hours later - well after the women had regained themselves and eaten a small dinner together in Hermione's office -, the young doctor was led by hand through the school and back to her lover's private quarters.
Behind Minerva's door, Hermione couldn't help herself but to wind her arms about her ebony haired woman and kiss her soundly, the image of the Headmistress writhing in pure ecstasy seared into her mind.
Two warm and tender hands ran languidly up and down the curves of her sides, minding her injured left ribs, and eventually found purchase against her hips.
The way Minerva kissed her made the young woman all too aware of the quietly spoken confession of love, and in that heated moment… She couldn't deny the fact that she wanted so badly to be able to say it in return. Three small, seemingly harmless, and simple words sat on the tip of her tongue while Minerva's own darted to seek entrance, making the brunette deepen the kiss only to feel that sweet, persistent muscle battling with hers for dominance.
Rendering a strong and domineering woman, in her own rights, to be rather submissive, Hermione knew, was only a brief stay along the way to a much more equal footed place. Minerva McGonagall was not submissive by nature, she didn't bend to the will of others, not even a lover as capable and independent as Hermione was. Yet, somehow, Hermione had gained such an upper hand, so early on, that she was able to draw it out in the Headmistress.
However, in moments like the one they were sharing, quite nearly still in the entrance to Minerva's quarters, she could feel the other woman silently struggling within herself. She had felt it a few times now, especially more recently, how badly Minerva wanted to have her way. Hermione knew those signs well. Still, the Headmistress showed her mercy and restraint.
Breathlessly, the women's lips parted, their foreheads meeting gently, and Hermione lifted a hand to rest against the side of her lover's swan-like neck, her thumb lightly brushing against a soft, pale cheek.
"Will you stay the night with me… In our bed? One of our beds?" Minerva asked her huskily, a residual desire darkening the look about her eyes.
"Only if you're sure you can tolerate it." Hermione told her, her own roughened voice, soft and filled with the grit of wanting, music to the green eyed woman's ears.
It was a comfort for the Headmistress to know that she was desired. It seemed sometimes Hermione could keep quite a good lid on it, and that tightly secured lid did, at some points, make her question.
"Please, stay. Stay all night."
The young doctor dipped her head once more to kiss her lover by way of saying yes… of course, briefly before she found herself being led by hand through Minerva's quarters toward the woman's bedroom.
They changed into night clothes in silence, each leaving to go to Minerva's loo to brush teeth and let down hair to tie back comfortably. Before long they were laying in the Scottish woman's bed, not exactly tired but comfortable, which marked one of the very few occasions in which Hermione permitted the Scottish witch to hold her.
Drawing Minerva's hand up to her breast and holding it there, she felt the woman sigh in delight behind her, and lips pressed to the back of her shoulder.
Minerva felt blessed to be gifted with so many new and exciting little things that Hermione had scarcely let her experience prior to those three small words.
"I do have to ask," Hermione heard the woman murmur against her skin. "Where did you learn that particular spell…"
"I studied it… I studied sex in general," Hermione told her after a few moments, her gaze drifting out the bedroom window at the darkened, moonlit sky beyond it. "When I was married, I couldn't understand why I didn't feel immense pleasure from having it with my husband and so I consulted books. Many, many books."
She heard the woman hum low tones.
"I shouldn't be very surprised… Is there anything else I should prepare myself for in the future? Any other surprises?"
There were. Hermione knew it within herself that she had a bit of fondness for fun behind closed doors, she enjoyed sex, she enjoyed exploration… However, it was dampened by a memory. Round a corner in her mind, there it was, lurking like a mugger down an alley in the early hours, waiting for some unsuspecting sod with a lowered guard.
Minerva felt the young woman tense in her arms. It was so little that one might not have noticed it. But she did.
Turning on her back toward the Headmistress, the ebony witch remaining on her side, Hermione drew her hand down to rest upon her stomach. She didn't wince or grimace at the pain of being on her back, growing rather accustomed to it now after quite a few hours, but her expression did give off a rather odd, mildly pained and uncomfortable look. At least, that's what green eyes fell upon. The light in the room was so minimal, only from the windows, which made it somewhat hard to really make out.
"A few years ago… It was quite shortly after Ronald and I separated and I broke it off with Evelyn, I was working at the hospital," Hermione explained softly, apprehensively, while the woman, who was now leaning up on an elbow peering down at her, listened. "We had a massive trauma come in and it was quite late when I got out of surgery… Around two or three in the morning. I was exhausted but… wired, I guess. I needed air, and I needed to get out of the hospital for a moment."
Hermione paused to breathe deeply and shifted her gaze upward toward the ceiling, stealing herself a moment of thought.
Her lover felt a shift in the atmosphere, a more serious aura radiating from the slender woman laying on her back.
"I went outside and across the street to the park, it wasn't unusual for me sometimes, nothing about that day was terribly unusual, in fact - it was standard, everything about it," Minerva saw a crease begin to form between Hermione's brows as she spoke, leaving her to wonder where it all was leading. "I walked around for a while in the park, it's rather expansive, as I'm sure you remember. I walked the paths and collected my thoughts, then, out of absolutely nowhere, I heard someone. I never looked, I was used to joggers and runners, sometimes at all hours… Sometimes they were even other staff, we used to get our exercise in when we could, but I got knocked down into the grass. Whoever it was, knocked me down. I was completely in shock by it, it was so sudden, I had no idea what to do so I froze."
Hearing this, the Headmistress didn't move a single muscle. Hermione's voice grew more distant, toneless even, quiet, yet, disengaged. Though her fingertips still traced the back of Minerva's hand, her expression was incongruent with the delicate, tender touch of her fingers.
"Next thing I know, I'm flat on my stomach and this wretch has his hand up my scrub shirt and he's grinding himself against me like I'm a bloody body pillow for a sex forward teenager, grunting away and grinding like I owe him something… It was humiliating and disgusting. And I froze. I could do nothing, until some runners started to approach and scared him off. They picked me up off the ground and there I was - still in my scrubs, a good scrape on my chin, feeling like I was still being crushed beneath some figure in the darkness."
Green eyes stared at the young woman's face as though seeing it for the first time. The despondence in the doctor's eyes was now entirely all too familiar… Little pieces fit together, painting a picture that began to make more sense.
"I used to love sex… Everything about it. I loved feeling someone play my body like an instrument, but that moment took something from me, a power I had, an identity I'd carved as a strong, sexually empowered and commanding woman… Reduced to nothing more than an object of someone's perverse desire… He didn't even know who I was or saw my face, I certainly never saw his - and ever since I cannot stand when someone is behind me, I cannot stand when I feel like I'm not in control of what's happening… And that's what love making, fucking, and sex is… Isn't it? An exchange of power? A physical dialogue… And you," Hermione's brown eyes turned upon green, looking into the surprised and saddened eyes of her lover. "You're a powerful woman, and I feel it when we're together how badly you want me to let go. And I want to… But I can't. Until I'm sure I won't turn into some quivering and emotionally charged ball of snot and tears."
"Has that happened to you?" Minerva asked her, her brow furrowing.
"Yes, on a couple of occasions when I least expected it… Even with someone I knew I trusted beyond measure, someone familiar."
"Evelyn?"
"Indeed," Hermione answered somewhat bitterly, sighing deeply. "However, Evelyn was always more of a pillow princess, easily swayed into bottoming and taking instruction. So I never really had to get over a hurdle with her because our sex was very straightforward. I knew what to expect, and with you… I don't."
Minerva's fingers splayed beneath the other woman's hand, seeking those fingers to lace with her own, which they did. She released a long breath of air and, quietly, cleared her throat, her gaze drawn downward to their joined hands.
Not knowing what to expect, knowing Minerva was not, as Hermione would say, a pillow princess. At least, not purely… Their situation, Hermione's situation, and her rules and constraints, became more obvious. The young doctor was afraid of reacting poorly, she was afraid of handing herself over to something that she couldn't surmise, and that was a terrifying experience. After everything Hermione had gone through in her life, to know that one more thing had surfaced that knocked her down a peg or two, or even three, made Minerva rethink how she had been handling the frustration and desire.
"Why couldn't you have told me sooner… It would have made a difference to how I've reacted…" Minerva managed to ask, despite not wanting to make Hermione feel as though she had done wrong by withholding. Still it would have made all the difference in the world.
The young doctor turned onto her right side, drawing the Headmistress's arm to drape about her waist. Hermione's hand travelled up Minerva's arm and, once more, she rested it against the side of the woman's neck, only for a moment, before fractionally lifting her head and kissing the woman softly. Minerva sunk herself into that kiss, conveying her obvious affection tenderly before soft, plump, and deliciously skillful lips parted from hers, leaving only the feather light sensation of warm breath upon her own.
"Because you hadn't said that you loved me yet," Hermione replied, their faces mere millimetres apart. "And if that is true, then you deserve to know why I struggle as I do, don't you…"
A few days passed.
Students left the school for Winter holidays and returned to their families to celebrate Christmas and the dawn of a new year. With so much time, and only a small handful of students remaining at Hogwarts, it cleared Minerva's schedule quite drastically. Which, of course, meant that she had the opportunity to secure a meeting on behalf of her Matron's cause.
Save for the whirring of baubles and whizzing knick-knacks, little orbs floating in air, the Headmistress was relatively silent. Minerva sat behind her desk looking down at a portly fellow sitting in one of the chairs in front of it. In his hands he held the Matron's file of notes and propositions, detailing to a great degree the needs of the Hospital Wing in order to remedy the current situation of the Infirmary. She tilted her head as she watched him, his monocle running over line after written line. Every once in a while he'd give a grunt or a hum, although, for the most part, he, also, was silent.
Suddenly, he tucked the monocle away in his breast jacket pocket and closed the file, looking up at the witch seated behind her desk. He lifted a hand and ran chubby fingers back through wispy, greying hair, hardly very much at all as he was balding quite severely on the top of his head.
"Headmistress, I can see your new Matron has given it a lot of thought…" He told her, his naturally tremulous voice ringing a bit more pitchy than usual.
"She has, Mr. Lawson… She has put a great deal of thought into what we require in order to move forward, however, it still requires a great deal of work," Minerva told him with enough self-awareness not to sound overly confident. "I suspect Mrs. Parkhill will have much an argument in regard to funding…"
"Oh aye," Agreed the fellow, smoothing his hand over the file, his watery grey eyes glancing between the file and the ebony haired witch. "You best be prepared. Mrs. Parkhill is scrupulous by nature, even to the point of inaction on matters such as this. Wastage has been a burden for us."
The Headmistress laid her hands on the surface of her desk, placing one on the other as she leaned forward. Adopting a charming smile and a glimmer, she continued on.
"Surely, you can see though that there is merit here… I trust that you won't be so easily swayed into inaction when cleary innovation is necessary for the school to function efficiently… In all departments."
"Yes, well, it isn't up to me alone anymore to hand out money, whether it is or isn't due," He told her, fidgeting somewhat beneath her steady gaze. "It will need to go before the board and, collectively, we will have to decide upon whether or not we can reform the post. But, I will tell you this…"
Raising his chubby finger and then drawing it to tap on the beige folder in his other hand.
"It will certainly make for a great debate."
That was not what Minerva had wanted to hear. In fact, it was quite patronising, really. Which frustrated her a bit, considering that the chairman who sat before her desk she regarded in quite high esteem. The look on her face hardened so minutely that it went easily missed. She rose from her chair and rounded it over to the fellow who stood up himself, reaching one of those chubby hands out to shake one of hers.
"When can we expect to hear back from the board for a meeting, anytime in the next few weeks?" She asked relaxedly, shaking his hand.
"Well, I will bring this back with me, of course, and we will find a bit of time for it." Mr. Lawson told her with a welcoming smile, however, Minerva did not let go of his hand, but rather squeezed it when she felt his retraction.
She met his eye with an imposing gaze, her own narrowing ever so slightly while her lips curled into a smile.
"Mr. Lawson, I brought this to you not because I suspected it to be taken lightly, but because we have a decent rapport, you know I wouldn't dare attempt to make undue alterations to an institution without just cause… It deserves more care than 'a bit of time'." She told him quietly, her tone controlled.
The shorter, rounder fellow seemed to take pause for a second or so, his smile faltering.
"I'll make sure we go over it diligently." He told her.
"I trust that you will." She replied, finally releasing his clammy hand.
They nodded briefly to one another, their short meeting drawn to a close, and he shuffled his weight out of the office, closing the door behind him. Wiping down her wetted palm on her emerald teaching robes with a small sniff of disgust, never having liked shaking a man's hand when they were prone to being clammy, Minerva returned to her chair behind her desk and plucked her quill from her inkwell to continue with the last few essays she'd yet to grade.
Needless to say, she was stressed. More stressed than usual. With the Christmas party a short couple of hours away, with essays that still needed attention, with everything she was aiming to help Hermione on with, in regard to the Hospital Wing, she felt a great deal of pressure. The Headmistress placed it all on her own shoulders, she knew. But she couldn't help but want to get it over with, and, perhaps, have a few drinks. It was Christmas, after all. Maybe, she should loosen up a bit.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, Hermione rallied with the staff in the faculty lounge to decorate and expand the room, just a bit, to accommodate for the Christmas party.
Hanging tinsel and stringing up fairy lights, Septima and Hermione were a force to be reckoned with. They ran circles around people, grabbing chairs and setting up a few extra tables, to the point where no one knew where to look or what to do because they were both taking care of tasks with military precision, calling out and pointing, directing one another as well as everyone else, because, Hermione thought, if she put that much effort into creating a festive atmosphere for the party then maybe she would be forgiven for not wanting to really be there at all.
She didn't want to be in the small crowd, sober, watching her colleagues and potentially her lover getting sloshed while she maintained her sobriety. All she really wanted to do was pour healthy amounts of liquor down her own throat but the fact that she had done just that on her birthday, and ended up not being able to be in full control of herself, caused a sickly feeling to form in the pit of her stomach.
Once candles had been lit on tables, and little decorations had been placed, eventually, plus one's slowly began to trickle into the lounge, as with any staff party, some elected to bring their spouses or a friend. Minerva was nowhere to be seen, Hermione had to assume that she had work to complete or that she had wanted to, at least, finish before taking the time to join them.
It took very little time for drinks to be poured and offered, varied edible delights began to appear on tables, much like food would often appear in the Great Hall, sent up by the hardworking elves who catered to the school. Unlike her birthday celebration, however, when offered a drink Hermione graciously declined, which did not go unnoticed. Especially by Rolanda who sidled up to her.
"Don't care for a brandy at all?" The silver haired witch asked, curiously. Hermione simply shook her head and tucked her hands into the pockets of her trousers, eyeing the new guests who began to wander in.
"Not a single bit… I think I drank enough on my birthday to last me the rest of my life, if need be." Hermione leaned in and told her quietly as they both watched Lavinia rushing off to greet another new entry with arms wide open.
"That's too bad, you looked rather dashing in your sunglasses." Rolanda chuckled, only to receive a well-meaning glare from the brunette beside her.
"Girls! Say hello!"
Ushering forward a woman, Lavinia returned to them with her friend. Hermione vaguely recalled Rolanda explaining that they had invited one of their mates because she was going through a rather nasty break up and could use the high spirits of a party.
"Ahhh, Una… So glad you could make it." Rolanda greeted the other quite athletic looking woman with a handshake so enthusiastic and firm it nearly sounded like a high five when their hands met.
"Anythin' to get out of that flat, I tell you. It's been a long few weeks." The sandy haired woman replied. Her smoky voice seemed well fitted to her looks. A wee bit taller than Hermione, a bit squarer about the shoulders… She must have been a Quidditch player.
"This is Hermione Granger, the Matron of our dear Hogwarts, very good young friend of ours." Lavinia introduced.
Sticking out her hand toward the older woman, Una, it was taken, shook, and squeezed by the other woman's rougher and calloused palm.
"Very good to know ye."
"Likewise." Hermione stated with a smile curl of her lips.
Hermione stayed for a while chit chatting amongst the various groups, met spouses and friends, but excused herself for a while in order to get away from the drinking type atmosphere that was beginning to spill over. She kept remembering her birthday and how far gone she'd managed to take herself. It was an uncomfortable thought. Knowing that the first kiss she had ever shared with the woman she was involved with was under some drunken haze was embarrassing to say the least.
Hermione never wanted to feel that way again.
Feeling like she had no control over what she had said or done, even if she was, in the Headmistress's eyes, not at all outside herself, and quite within her boundaries, the fact that her mind had completely shuffled those memories and disposed of them without even a consultation still bothered her to a great degree.
Making her rounds about the castle, strolling casually down corridor after corridor, remembering her own vulnerability from a few nights prior, she really began to feel as though her and the Headmistress were building some sort of life. Sure, things were taking a bit of time but they were making a real and honest go of it. It was something the young doctor never saw coming or thought possible.
Eventually, Hermione found herself in the library of all places. Surrounded by books, she merely wandered through, visions of her younger self floating in and out of the frame of her mind. Who would have thought then that this was the life she would have chosen to lead? Who would have known it would all have boiled down to this? She was right back where she started, full circle, a few months away from her first year done… Six months passed quickly within those walls with the amount of work she had to do.
Reminiscing, her legs worked of their own accord and began to draw her back toward the faculty lounge. She glanced at the watch on her wrist and noted that she'd spent a fair bit of time away. About two hours and twenty minutes of it.
Feeling far more prepared to take on the drunken antics of the party, having taken that bit of time away from it, she felt the tension ease.
Of course, that was until a rather slurry Rolanda turned round a corner in front of her, her yellow eyes searching. Relief appeared to wash over the woman when she spotted the meandering brunette.
"There you are! Good lord, I was wondering what you've gotten up to…" Rolanda told her, trying to be smooth but failing to reach her mark. Hermione met the other woman half way up the corridor and, together, they began to walk back toward the party.
"You're tipsy."
"Only a wee little bit… Doing better than others." Rolanda added that small little remark with a rather animated expression, as one did when they were well on the way toward pickled. Hermione had to arch a brow.
Something wasn't quite alright with her friend. The silver haired witch looked bothered. It wasn't often the rather jovial and humorous woman looked out of sorts, especially on a night of food, drink, and banter.
"You're acting odd. Is your wife threatening lap dances in public?" Hermione asked, amused. From stories she was told, it didn't seem too far out of the realm of possibility. Suddenly, Rolanda turned toward her and in drunken sincerity planted both her hands on Hermione's shoulders, catching the younger witch somewhat off-guard as her friend forcibly turned her and stopped her from walking onward.
"No, but yours is." A genuine concern lit yellow eyes. For a minute, Hermione's features grew confused and then she couldn't help but laugh and look at Rolanda as though she'd grown a second head.
"First of all, Minerva is not my wife… Secondly, if she's offering lap dances, I should return to my quarters and get some galleons, because she deserves a fine tip for her business…" Hermione didn't at all aim to hide her disbelief, but Rolanda didn't let up. Rather she grumbled incoherently and shook her head before replying.
"Well, she's not actually offering lap dances, but she is gettin' on rather too well with our friend… You know, the one that's havin' a rough time. They're getting a bit too comfortable…" The last words were enunciated so dramatically that Hooch looked about thirty years younger.
Hermione blinked a few times.
"How much has she had to drink?" The young doctor asked slowly.
Rolanda looked like she had to think about the question for a bit, her hands slipped from Hermione's shoulders.
"Enough, apparently… She showed up about ten or so minutes after you left for your stroll. Last I saw, Una's hand was on her thigh…"
"Oh, really now…" Two brows rose up the brunette's forehead.
It was uncharacteristic of Minerva to be out of hand. So uncharacteristic that she didn't actually believe it. But, then again, alcohol did funny things to a person sometimes. The Headmistress wasn't immune to that fact.
Rolanda continued on to say.
"You need to get in there and tell your woman…"
Hermione lifted a hand, instantly halting any further instruction from her pink faced friend.
"Let's just get back to the party and I'll figure out what to do from there, I highly doubt it's as dramatic as you say it is." The brunette told her, casting aside the obvious concern lighting Rolanda's golden eyes.
"Alrighhhttt." The Flying Instructor said, drawing out the word in a disbelieving sing song as they began to stroll casually back to the faculty lounge.
Upon entering, the music and the talking was uproarious. Hermione needed to squeeze past Pomona and her husband just inside the door, who were quite obviously teasing one another about something, like people who were married for a lengthy period of time did. She smiled at them but Rolanda came up next to her and began steering her toward Lavinia, who was watching across the room with a stern eye.
Weaving between colleagues and their friends, their partners, eventually the pair made their way over to Rolanda's wife.
Again, a similar rush of relief appeared to wash over the auburn haired witch when her head turned and she saw them approach.
"Oh, thank Christ you're here… I'm so sorry, I knew Una was going through a rough time but I didn't think she'd use this gathering as some sort of rebound night." Lavina gestured vaguely with a finger toward the other side of the room as Hermione dropped down in a chair beside her, Hermione had to lean in a bit closer to Rolanda's wife in order to peer between people at the scene she was gesturing toward.
On the other side of the room, Minerva sat beside the sandy haired witch. Closely inspecting the pair of women, who appeared to be sharing a bottle of some dark liquid, Hermione could see that they were quite enthralled in conversation… Suddenly, Minerva threw her head back and laughed while Una appeared to be telling her some sort of funny story, by the look of the positioning of her arm, which was somewhat hidden behind the table, it was bent in a way that did appear to give off the impression that the woman, Una, was leaning, her hand on Minerva's leg.
A number of things ran through the young doctor's mind. Her expression gave her away.
"I told you… I had the same look on my face… One minute we were all chattin' together like chums and the next I look over and they're off in their own little corner…"
"Shush, I'm thinking…" Hermione told Rolanda who shut herself up. Lavinia drew her drink up and sipped it, shaking her head at the scene on the other side of the room.
"You have to say something… It wasn't really our place."
"We aren't exclusive." Hermione told them at long last, pushing down the jealousy and the discomfort and choosing to look at it objectively.
"Whut." Rolanda grumbled, angling dramatically toward her in her somewhat tipsy state, her drink sloshing in its glass and precariously close to spilling. Hermione just gave her a disapproving glance.
"We haven't talked about exclusivity, we aren't exclusive…" Rolanda's gaze bounced between her wife, who was staring at the side of Hermione's head with a befuddled look, and back to meet Hermione's again.
"What does that have to do with anything… You are together." Lavinia offered, leaning forward in her chair a bit and angling fractionally toward the brunette between them. Hermione just shrugged an elegant shoulder, feeling somewhat like a fool for never having broached that topic with her lover.
"Yes, we are involved, but we actually haven't talked about the nature of our relationship… We don't call it a relationship, we never said we were exclusively seeing only one another… Which makes it a bit difficult for me to go over there and play the jealous girlfriend, make a right arse out of myself, if we haven't actually talked about that yet." Hermione explained thoroughly to her friends. All the while the two wives' were exchanging glances, while also looking between Hermione and the two other women on the other side of the room.
"Why haven't you talked about it?" Asked Lavinia, her tone a mixture of confused and worried. Hermione just gave her head a small shake, averting her gaze briefly to the table top then to the woman alongside her.
"It honestly hasn't ever come up… But," Hermione aimed a look at Rolanda who seemed to be in the same boat as her wife - puzzled. "Is your wife the only woman you've ever flirted with? Kissed? Slept with?"
The question was met by furrowed brow and gentle clearing of the throat. When Hermione and Rolanda locked gaze, the young woman could see that Rolanda was somewhat taken aback by the question.
"Uhhh… Well… No?" She answered slowly, wondering in somewhat sobering thoughts why that mattered to begin with.
"Well, the Headmistress has only ever interacted with me, as a woman, in such capacity so… Maybe she's curious. I may have opened a door for her and, if by doing so I've awoken some curiosity - and with the fact that we haven't had the exclusivity clause ironed out in our arrangement - who the hell am I to close that door on her," Hermione told them point blank, relaxing back in her chair and avoiding the urge to watch her lover and the sandy haired witch do… Whatever they were doing. She focused her sights on the table in front of them and the decorations they had placed, eyeing the little wreath wrapped around a few lit candles. "She's a grown woman, who recently has discovered the world of women… I've sewn my wild oats, so have both of you, so may as well leave her be."
Hearing that, Lavinia and Rolanda shared a somewhat astonished glance between them.
"That's… Shockingly progressive of you, Little Granger…" Lavinia stated, her gaze lingering on the silver haired witch beside the brunette who looked like she lacked for anything to say.
Hermione's lips formed a line and she really had to stop herself from getting up, walking over, and throwing her weight around in front of the grey eyed witch who appeared to be quite content making her lover laugh… It would have been humiliating to have to do it in front of all the people talking, laughing, partying around them. She wouldn't allow herself to do that.
"But what if… I know you say to stay out of her business, but what if our friend, who's clearly tryin' to get on the mend here, makes a real pass… Do you want us to step in then?" Rolanda asked hopefully as she set her drink down on the table. Brown eyes aimed a glance at the golden ones inspecting her.
"No…"
"Why?!" The question was furiously whispered and made Hermione sigh deeply.
"Because I love her… If some objectively attractive woman is going to make a pass at my…," Hermione had to stop herself and groan miserably at her near misstep in speech. "Going to make a pass at Minerva, and she accepts, that's her own adult choice. And I've been withholding, so, let her have her fun. If Una makes a pass and Minerva refuses… Then, shit… Maybe she is only attracted to me, in terms of women. It'd help her understand herself better."
Rolanda was about to argue when her wife interrupted her thoughts.
"They're on the move!" Lavina interrupted, causing the two women to her left to lean one way or another.
Brown eyes watched the ebony haired woman walk alongside the athletic witch toward the door leading out into the corridor. Perhaps… They needed air. Maybe they were wandering off to do more, maybe they just wanted to get away from all the noise… Maybe, maybe, maybe…
"I'll go and join them." Rolanda stated quickly but Hermione grabbed her arm when she was lifting herself out of her chair, giving the woman a firm yank back down into her seat. She gave Rolanda a solemn look.
"Just leave them alone." She told her friend seriously.
"Why are you okay with this?! HOW can you be okay with this?!" Argued the silver haired witch, frankly bothered with Hermione's inaction or the cool way she was handling something so… Well, wrong… so easily.
"I'm not okay with it! Alright? But I'm also hyper aware of the fact that Minerva is a grown bloody woman capable of making her own damn choices! We aren't exclusive! She's a free agent! So, just… leave her be!" Angrily, Hermione whispered in furious tones, rising out of her own chair so that she could excuse herself.
"Where are you going?" Lavinia asked, placing her own drink down on the table. The young doctor leaned down, putting each of her arms about their respective shoulders.
"I'm going to my quarters, my birthday has entirely worn me out from parties… I think I would like to settle in bed with a book and tomorrow we'll see where we're at… But, please, for the love of Merlin just have a wonderful night and do not worry about the Headmistress." She told them, leaning to press brief kisses to their cheeks as the couple just looked at one another.
Plastering on a smile, Hermione vacated their table and began to weave her way through small groupings of people toward the opposite door. She didn't want to even think about what the Headmistress was doing, nor did she want to spend her evening surrounded by alcohol - that she so badly wanted to drink right about then - while waiting for something or nothing to happen.
"I had no idea I was going to be in the presence of a great Quidditch fan." Una chuckled.
The pair of women strolled casually down one of the staff access corridors and Minerva, feeling lighter, and frankly more than a little inebriated, gave an unceremonious snort of laughter.
"I used to play when I was a much younger woman," Minerva replied casually, her green eyes glinting. "Seeker… I suppose I was a rather gifted player, but that career path was cut short when I fell from my broom. Rather nasty fall."
It felt good to let loose, and very loose, she was. She felt the responsibility and the pressure slip away and her sole focus fell upon the most glorious moments of conversation she was sharing. To say that she was a great fan of Quidditch was reductive. She was an enormous fan. More than that, she had actually been a large fan of the woman she was in the middle of meeting, and that was a pure delight. Something did linger in the back of her mind, though. It was the same sort of feeling of one forgetting something. She cast it aside quickly, not allowing it to dampen her spirits. She deserved a fun filled evening.
"Had my own fair share of scrapes," The smoky voiced woman replied, knocking her elbow lightly against Minerva's, causing the green eyed witch to aim a glance her way. "But the Appleby Arrows just refuse to let you give up. My team was relentless."
"Oh, I am very aware of that," Minerva felt warmth spread throughout her body, the look she received was one that she couldn't quite place but it was familiar as she gazed briefly into grey eyes. "I remember one match in particular, against Puddlemere United in 1973…"
A loud groan parted thin lips, the tall woman lifted a hand and brushed it back through her shoulder length hair. There was amusement written on her stone cut features, as well as a vague look of frustration from the memory.
"You couldn't possibly imagine the arguments that match spawned… A thirteen hour game, in the bloody freezing rain, I thought half of us were going to be hypothermic before we even gained an inch on that pitch."
"Rolanda always managed to drag me along to the longest bloody matches." Mused the Headmistress, shaking her head with a small smile at many memories of her friend, and the trouble they would get up to in their younger years.
The taller woman walking alongside her tilted her head somewhat, watching the side of Minerva's face closely.
"You know, I didn't think I wanted to come tonight, I almost didn't," Una stated softly, causing Minerva to meet her eye, there held that familiar, undefined expression. "But I'm very glad I did."
Feeling the effects of two thirds of a bottle of whiskey, Minerva's steps began to slow until both of the women were standing in the middle of a vacant corridor, gazing at one another. There was something about that look that the Headmistress couldn't figure out. Her own features, mildly curious, inspected the bright eyed woman's.
The warm light of stone sconces, the relative silence, and the fire in her stomach made the woman pause. The taller witch seemed to hesitate.
"You're quite striking, you know." Una told her, her rich tones causing Minerva's brow to slightly arch.
Everything from that moment the brief statement was uttered was an absolute haze… From the slight touch of a hand on her arm, to the woman who seemed to be growing more magnified in the passing of moments until she could see nothing, but felt lips lightly graze her own, teasingly. An image burned itself into the Headmistress's brain.
She reacted to that image along with the touch of lips.
A kiss that was teasing morphed into a desperate attempt at closeness, the taller of the two witches having to slightly bend at the knees to maintain her balance as the Headmistress took a steady hold of her waist. Minerva was on fire in an instant. Being walked backward, her back met cool stone. The lips on her own were relentless, a combination of tongue and teeth, while the hands were rough, and then… She felt it. Something wasn't right there. The image in her mind didn't quite match to the sensations those lips, those hands, were giving.
In her inebriated state, it wasn't until a hand cupped her breast over her blouse and squeezed, something that her lover had yet to actually do, that caused her eyes to fly open and there she saw pale, light brows on a forehead that carried a unique scar… Dirty blond hair, a unique taste, foreign and unusual, Minerva gasped against that mouth and drew her hands up quickly to strong upper arms and pushed.
"I'm sorry, so sorry…" She whispered quickly, green eyes widening in horror as the blond in her grasp quickly regained herself and peered into them. It took a moment for the gravity of what had just happened to hit the Headmistress squarely. This was not the woman whose image was seared into her brain.
"Did I hurt you?" The grey eyed woman asked her quickly, reaching up to curl calloused hands around Minerva's forearms, an immediate concern found in her gaze.
The Headmistress felt ill. Drunk and ill. Her entire body felt like it was trembling, both by adrenaline and fear.
What had she done?
"No… I am involved with someone, I'm with someone." She replied quickly, watching as recognition dawned on the chiselled, yet femanine, features across from her own.
"Oh! Good lord, then I am… I am very sorry. I had no idea… Rolanda didn't mention…"
"No, I… I should have mentioned, I should have…" Minerva released the other woman as panic began to course through her veins. It made the world spin and she had to slightly turn away from her company in order to anchor herself against the wall, lifting hand to rub slowly over her face. She felt like she was going to be sick.
Seeing how quickly the change came about, Una cautiously reached to touch the Headmistress's shoulder, green eyes darting to meet her own of grey.
"Maybe, we should wander back… Get some water in us, and just…"
"Yes, that… That would be a good idea." Minerva interrupted, ready to get as close to other people as possible and no longer to be alone with the woman who she had just had her mouth on.
Seeing the Headmistress's reaction and realising her mistake, the sandy haired woman felt terrible. It clearly had been the cause of some intense feeling, and had she known she wouldn't have even attempted making a move on the woman.
Gradually, the pair began the walk back in an awkward silence. Minerva was personally afraid to open her mouth, unless her stomach chose to gift her with a sickly surprise. With each passing foot of distance closed, the more overwhelmed she felt, the drunker she began to feel, and the more guilt began to settle in.
It had not felt right. It had felt very, very wrong. She had never done something that felt so wrong before. The reaction to it was visceral. She needed water… As quickly as possible.
It was around 1:20 AM when a persistent knock on Hermione's door woke her with a start. She threw back the covers and got out of bed, turning on the lamp on her bedside table.
Wiping the sleep from her eyes, the young doctor quickly strode out of her bedroom in her pyjamas and walked to her front door, quickly opening it to reveal a rather surly looking Rolanda who was holding an incredibly drunk Headmistress's arm around her shoulders, while her other held tightly to her lover's middle. Sniffling and mumbling, Minerva looked the definition of a drunken mess.
Hermione pursed her lips and opened her door wider,
"I think this sorry sack belongs to you." Rolanda had long since lost her buzz, though her eyes were bloodshot, as she manoeuvred and half carried Minerva in, haphazardly tossing the ebony haired witch down on Hermione's couch. There, the Headmistress curled herself up, mumbling all the while, apologising to no one… Hermione could only sigh and watch as Rolanda straightened up and began walking back toward the door, her eyes still cast back at the quivering Scottish witch who was out of her own head.
"What happened?" Hermione asked her, eyeing her ill looking lover and then her friend. Rolanda looked none too pleased with her either.
"She got plastered, they went for a walk, apparently had a heated exchange in a corridor, and then she came to her bloody senses… At least, that's what Una told Lavinia," Rolanda muttered, looking at the brunette, unimpressed. "All of which could have been rectified immediately had you intervened."
Hermione sighed deeply and peered at the yellow eyed witch.
"It wasn't any of our places to intervene."
"Then make it your place, Merlin damn it! If you fucking love her, it is your fucking place!" Rolanda huffed, her finger jabbing the air and pointing at Hermione's chest. Not wasting another moment before walking out of Hermione's quarters and leaving the brunette witch to think over those last few words, the young doctor could hear Rolanda cursing as she strode down the hall and away.
Maybe she should have…
Closing the door and locking it, she glanced over at the Headmistress… Minerva was holding herself tightly, her eyes closed just as tight, and Hermione released a steady breath. Quietly, she padded over to the couch and kneeled down beside it, tentatively brushing a few loosened locks from Minerva's forehead.
"Sweetheart… My love," Things she had never once called Minerva prior slipped past her lips, it drew attention and green eyes slowly opened to find soulful brown hues. "Let's get you into some clothes for bed, come to bed with me, my darling witch."
Minerva's lip trembled and she lifted a hand to wipe her wetted cheeks.
"I've done something terrible…" Her voice quivered uncharacteristically. Hermione's features softened and she leaned in to press a kiss to the woman's clammy forehead.
"We've all done terrible things… But don't you worry 'bout that… Let's just go to bed and we'll talk about it tomorrow."
After much convincing, Hermione finally managed to get the Scottish witch up off the couch and carefully led her into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Hermione took down her bun and braided her hair, all the while Minerva needed to keep a firm hold on the bathroom sink.
Hermione felt badly for her… She had not yet seen the witch so intoxicated. But, at the end of the day, Minerva was a grown woman. She could only feel so bad considering it was her lover's choice.
Making sure to keep a glass of water on Minerva's side, she helped the woman into bed and tucked her in, crawling back onto her side of the bed and holding tightly to the woman in her arms.
She whispered I love you into the darkness as she heard the woman's breath evening out.
It became a choice sometime in the night as Hermione lay awake, listening to her lover breathing deeply, that she would talk to the woman about alcohol… Evidently, both of them could get carried away at one point. Eliminating it from their life together, even if for a while, would be best. And so that was decided. They would discuss it.
My goodness, so many amazing comments.
Thank you so very much! I felt bad because I know it's been a few days so I made this one a little bit longer. I know it might not have been the most enjoyable content, but, personally, it's something I've suffered with in the past.
Alcoholism runs in my family, and definitely with me. I've seen a lot of stories where no one really talks about it so I wanted to raise a bit of awareness in the best way I can and actually make it a theme where our amazing leading ladies choose a sober lifestyle. I think it's important, especially in our community, (for anyone who is LGBTQIA*2) that we look at it from all perspectives.
So, yes. That. Very that.
I hope that didn't sound preachy, so, I digress - thank you so much for your continued support and I'll catch everyone on the flipside.
-Haughty