Chapter 5 - Are you on fire, from the years?
-The Indigo Girls
Eleven PM came and went. Hermione lay miserably in bed as the clock ticked relentlessly towards midnight.
Wiping tears from her face, she wondered if Durmstrang was taking applications for exchange students.
There was a soft sound at the door and a small shadow entered the room. Hermione watched as the shadow grew and took the shape of a woman.
"You did come," she said.
The figure remained firmly in the shadows.
"I don't know why," McGonagall's silhouette said softly. "This is mad."
McGonagall walked slowly into the dim light from the windows. Her hair was down, and her black robes were new.
"I'm terrified," Minerva said flatly. "A sixteen year old child has managed to frighten me more than Voldemort ever did. Why are you asking this of me?"
"But you came anyway," Hermione said, looking confused.
"I'm much too old to be slinking around the school at night," Minerva said. She sat carefully on the side of the bed.
"I'm glad you're here," said Hermione. "If it helps."
"I've never done this," McGonagall said. She took Hermione's hand carefully. "Not with a woman, not with a student. I wouldn't even know how to begin. You can't expect this of me. I came to tell you how foolish this was."
Hermione said slowly, "I understand." She stared at her feet for a moment, trying very hard not to cry. "I'm sorry Professor," she said, and a strangled sob escaped her lips.
"Please, don't do that," McGonagall said. "Or I will too." She rummaged a handkerchief out of her pocket and began to dab. "It's all right, I'm not angry with you." Without meaning to, she found her hand massaging the back of the girl's neck.
Hermione cried harder, turning away to hide her face in her hands.
Minerva tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.
Carefully she began to smooth Hermione's hair, allowing the thick strands to tumble through her fingers.
After a long time the crying stopped.
McGonagall returned to the girl's neck, working at the knots she found there. Slowly, Hermione began to relax.
"It's not that I find you unattractive Miss Granger," McGonagall said haltingly.
"Then why?" Hermione said. The fire had died down and the air in the infirmary was chill and damp. Hermione shivered.
Instinctively, McGonagall drew closer.
"In 1945, my husband was killed in the battle against the wizard Grindelwald," McGonagall said. "I thought my life was over." Her robes rustled as she arranged herself more comfortably.
"I never knew," said Hermione. "You must have loved him very much." She breathed deeply, inhaling the other woman's comforting smell of sandalwood and evergreen.
"I came to Hogwarts that same year," said Minerva, "Dumbledore asked me to teach, and I suddenly had a reason to go on living."
Hermione turned slightly to look at the woman.
"And since then?"
McGonagall let her fingertips trace patterns on the girl's neck.
"I've become a martinet, my dear," McGonagall said. "A dried up old stick who lives for her Quidditch and her classroom."
Hermione scooted backwards so her bottom rested firmly against the woman's leg. "No one else has ever- ?" she said.
McGonagall took a sharp breath. "No one," she muttered. She stroked gently along Hermione's hairline, and felt her nipples tighten in response to the girl's soft sigh. Her face reddened with shame.
"I swore years ago that I would never do this, not with a student. It is too easy to take advantage of a child's infatuation, a replacement for a real relationship with someone who can see your imperfections."
"But I've asked you," Hermione said. She sounded very unhappy. "Doesn't that make a difference?" She tilted her head to allow McGonagall to stroke the base of her neck. "How could you be forcing me?"
"I don't honestly know anymore," Minerva said after a few moments, "Why do you believe that you love me?" Her voice was low and uncertain, but her hands drifted through the neck of the girl's nightshirt to massage her shoulders.
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Not because you're perfect, but because you're smart and excellent at transfiguration, and you're not afraid of anyone." She gulped. "And because you're beautiful."
"I think you flatter me too much," said McGonagall. "I'm an old witch who should know better than to get herself in such a muddle."
"But it won't be a muddle forever," said Hermione. "In two years I'll be - "
"A beautiful young woman tied to her aging transfigurations professor," finished McGonagall. "No one, including you, will ever know what you saw in me. I was shocked to hear that you believed yourself in love with me in the first place." The woman knew as she said them that the words were a lie.
She hadn't been shocked. At least, not for long. Mostly, she'd been excited.
"I am in love with you," Hermione said.
McGonagall's hands trembled on her shoulders for a long moment.
"I never thought I would hear you say that," Minerva said at last.
"Do you want that, with me?" said Hermione.
"I have no idea what I want," Minerva said. "But I don't need to have my hands in your gown." She pulled her hands back through the nightdress's tight neck. "I'm sorry Hermione."
"Here, that's an easy one." Hermione pulled the nightdress over her head and held it in front of her protectively. "Is that better?"
McGonagall blew out a shaky breath. "No," she said. "That was not what I meant. I think that you should get dressed, and I should go, before I do something - foolish." Unable to stop herself, she leaned forward and laid a hand on the girl's back. "Please, get dressed. I don't know what I'm doing here."
Hermione quivered as one delicate hand tentatively traced her spine, and another trailed along her neck.
"It doesn't feel foolish to me," she said. "No one is supposed to be alone forever."
McGonagall hung her head. "I thought I could tell you no," she said. "I promised myself I would not do this, I would never do this."
She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the girl's back and whispered, "I never let myself touch you, I was never alone with you for more than a few moments, but yet, here we are."
"You did want me," Hermione said quietly.
"I've wanted you, and hated myself for it," Minerva said. "and I could not live with myself if I harmed you."
McGonagall's hands slid across the girl's back; caressing the skin.
"That feels good," Hermione whispered. "What he did wasn't good."
"Had anyone ever touched you, at all," McGonagall said, "before he - ?" She did not elaborate, but the girl understood.
"No," Hermione said quietly. She closed her eyes and laid her head on her knees as Minerva slid even closer and began to stroke her bare arms. She could feel the soft cloth of the woman's dress against her back, the gentle press of breasts against her shoulders.
"I don't want to hurt you Hermione," Minerva said desperately. "It's been too long, and I've never, not with a woman."
Hermione leaned back so that her head lay on McGonagall's shoulder. Slowly, she pulled away the nightdress and let it drift onto the floor.
"I trust you," the girl said.
McGonagall's voice was strange and heavy, her breath hot as she said "Hermione, please." The sound was almost a moan.
"Touch me," Hermione whispered.
Minerva's breathing speeded as her hands slowed, stroking sensuously up and down Hermione's bare arms. With each stroke her fingertips slid closer to the curve of the girl's breasts.
Unable to bear any more, Hermione turned her head and brushed her lips along the woman's throat.
"Please," she begged.
Trembling, Minerva allowed herself to cup the girl's breasts. Hermione made a soft sound of pleasure as tentative fingers rubbed carefully across her hardened nipples.
"Is that - Does it feel good?" Minerva asked nervously.
"Yes," Hermione hissed. She arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against the woman's hands and smiling at McGonagall's gasp of pleasure.
A moment later and it was Hermione's turn to gasp as fingers slid along her sides and danced teasingly across her thighs.
"Do you want me to take the drawers off?" the girl said.
"Please, not yet," Minerva said, her breath rasping. "I can't."
"It's all right," Hermione said. Gently, the girl turned, tugging at the woman until they were laying side by side on the narrow bed. She could feel the older witch shivering madly.
"It's all right," Hermione said again. She covered McGonagall's hand with her own and moved it carefully to the top of her white cotton panties.
Minerva closed her eyes and allowed her hand to slip beneath the thin fabric. Suddenly, Hermione's mouth covered hers and she was lost.
Heat flooded the older woman's body as her stroking fingertips brushed the soft nest of curls hidden between the girl's legs.
"Show me what it's like," Hermione whispered, "When it's someone that you love."
Cautiously Minerva let her fingers slide forward.
Hermione moaned and twisted as the older witch began to rub, first only back and forth, then, as she grew more daring, in gentle circles.
"Profesor McGonagall," Hermione said softly, "Oh God, Minerva." This was better than touching herself had ever been.
McGonagall rolled atop the girl, and shuddered with pleasure as Hermione clung to her. Feeling quite bold, she pressed more deeply at the warm opening beneath her fingers.
"Hermione," Minerva said, "Tell me if it doesn't please you."
"What are you - ?" Hermione managed, then she gasped as she felt a finger slide inside of her.
"Are you all right?" Minerva asked anxiously. She moved as if to withdraw her hand.
"No," Hermione said, "Oh don't stop."
Together, they began to move. Slowly and uncertainly Minerva worked first one and then two fingers inside the quivering girl.
Hermione bit her lip to stifle a cry as McGonagall increased the speed of her thrusts, brushing across the sensative nub with each push. Slowly she reached out and tangled her fingers in the woman's flowing hair.
"Oh my dear," Minerva said.
In a moment the girl gasped, her muscles stiffening. McGonagall moaned as her own climax washed over her in waves.
For a few minutes they lay together in the darkness, Hermione lying silently with her head beneath the older woman's chin.
Minerva realized with a start that she could feel warm wetness running across her shoulder.
Crying. Hermione was crying.
She raised a hand and swiped at the tears on the girl's face.
"Hermione, did I hurt you?" she asked. "What did I do? I'm sorry dear." The witch sat up abruptly.
"No," Hermione said weakly. "You didn't. It's just that it's not like - It's not - "
"What Hermione? It's not what?"
"The books tell you all about it," Hermione burst out, "But it's not like that at all! They don't tell you how it really feels. I thought I knew but it wasn't, it didn't-" She stared at the older woman in the darkness, "I love you so much I hurt."
Minerva ran a trembling hand over the girls cheek. "The books tell you the how of it, love. They can't tell you the rest." She lay down again and wrapped her arms around Hermione's shaking shoulders. "I wish it were all that easy."
"Do you love me?" Hermione asked, her voice breaking a little.
"Give me time, Hermione," Minerva said. "Right now, I honestly don't know whether to kiss you or go straight to Dumbledore and turn myself over to him."
"I have to know," Hermione pleaded. "Do you love me?"
Minerva hid her face in the curve of the girl's neck. "Yes," she whispered.
-The Indigo Girls
Eleven PM came and went. Hermione lay miserably in bed as the clock ticked relentlessly towards midnight.
Wiping tears from her face, she wondered if Durmstrang was taking applications for exchange students.
There was a soft sound at the door and a small shadow entered the room. Hermione watched as the shadow grew and took the shape of a woman.
"You did come," she said.
The figure remained firmly in the shadows.
"I don't know why," McGonagall's silhouette said softly. "This is mad."
McGonagall walked slowly into the dim light from the windows. Her hair was down, and her black robes were new.
"I'm terrified," Minerva said flatly. "A sixteen year old child has managed to frighten me more than Voldemort ever did. Why are you asking this of me?"
"But you came anyway," Hermione said, looking confused.
"I'm much too old to be slinking around the school at night," Minerva said. She sat carefully on the side of the bed.
"I'm glad you're here," said Hermione. "If it helps."
"I've never done this," McGonagall said. She took Hermione's hand carefully. "Not with a woman, not with a student. I wouldn't even know how to begin. You can't expect this of me. I came to tell you how foolish this was."
Hermione said slowly, "I understand." She stared at her feet for a moment, trying very hard not to cry. "I'm sorry Professor," she said, and a strangled sob escaped her lips.
"Please, don't do that," McGonagall said. "Or I will too." She rummaged a handkerchief out of her pocket and began to dab. "It's all right, I'm not angry with you." Without meaning to, she found her hand massaging the back of the girl's neck.
Hermione cried harder, turning away to hide her face in her hands.
Minerva tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.
Carefully she began to smooth Hermione's hair, allowing the thick strands to tumble through her fingers.
After a long time the crying stopped.
McGonagall returned to the girl's neck, working at the knots she found there. Slowly, Hermione began to relax.
"It's not that I find you unattractive Miss Granger," McGonagall said haltingly.
"Then why?" Hermione said. The fire had died down and the air in the infirmary was chill and damp. Hermione shivered.
Instinctively, McGonagall drew closer.
"In 1945, my husband was killed in the battle against the wizard Grindelwald," McGonagall said. "I thought my life was over." Her robes rustled as she arranged herself more comfortably.
"I never knew," said Hermione. "You must have loved him very much." She breathed deeply, inhaling the other woman's comforting smell of sandalwood and evergreen.
"I came to Hogwarts that same year," said Minerva, "Dumbledore asked me to teach, and I suddenly had a reason to go on living."
Hermione turned slightly to look at the woman.
"And since then?"
McGonagall let her fingertips trace patterns on the girl's neck.
"I've become a martinet, my dear," McGonagall said. "A dried up old stick who lives for her Quidditch and her classroom."
Hermione scooted backwards so her bottom rested firmly against the woman's leg. "No one else has ever- ?" she said.
McGonagall took a sharp breath. "No one," she muttered. She stroked gently along Hermione's hairline, and felt her nipples tighten in response to the girl's soft sigh. Her face reddened with shame.
"I swore years ago that I would never do this, not with a student. It is too easy to take advantage of a child's infatuation, a replacement for a real relationship with someone who can see your imperfections."
"But I've asked you," Hermione said. She sounded very unhappy. "Doesn't that make a difference?" She tilted her head to allow McGonagall to stroke the base of her neck. "How could you be forcing me?"
"I don't honestly know anymore," Minerva said after a few moments, "Why do you believe that you love me?" Her voice was low and uncertain, but her hands drifted through the neck of the girl's nightshirt to massage her shoulders.
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Not because you're perfect, but because you're smart and excellent at transfiguration, and you're not afraid of anyone." She gulped. "And because you're beautiful."
"I think you flatter me too much," said McGonagall. "I'm an old witch who should know better than to get herself in such a muddle."
"But it won't be a muddle forever," said Hermione. "In two years I'll be - "
"A beautiful young woman tied to her aging transfigurations professor," finished McGonagall. "No one, including you, will ever know what you saw in me. I was shocked to hear that you believed yourself in love with me in the first place." The woman knew as she said them that the words were a lie.
She hadn't been shocked. At least, not for long. Mostly, she'd been excited.
"I am in love with you," Hermione said.
McGonagall's hands trembled on her shoulders for a long moment.
"I never thought I would hear you say that," Minerva said at last.
"Do you want that, with me?" said Hermione.
"I have no idea what I want," Minerva said. "But I don't need to have my hands in your gown." She pulled her hands back through the nightdress's tight neck. "I'm sorry Hermione."
"Here, that's an easy one." Hermione pulled the nightdress over her head and held it in front of her protectively. "Is that better?"
McGonagall blew out a shaky breath. "No," she said. "That was not what I meant. I think that you should get dressed, and I should go, before I do something - foolish." Unable to stop herself, she leaned forward and laid a hand on the girl's back. "Please, get dressed. I don't know what I'm doing here."
Hermione quivered as one delicate hand tentatively traced her spine, and another trailed along her neck.
"It doesn't feel foolish to me," she said. "No one is supposed to be alone forever."
McGonagall hung her head. "I thought I could tell you no," she said. "I promised myself I would not do this, I would never do this."
She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the girl's back and whispered, "I never let myself touch you, I was never alone with you for more than a few moments, but yet, here we are."
"You did want me," Hermione said quietly.
"I've wanted you, and hated myself for it," Minerva said. "and I could not live with myself if I harmed you."
McGonagall's hands slid across the girl's back; caressing the skin.
"That feels good," Hermione whispered. "What he did wasn't good."
"Had anyone ever touched you, at all," McGonagall said, "before he - ?" She did not elaborate, but the girl understood.
"No," Hermione said quietly. She closed her eyes and laid her head on her knees as Minerva slid even closer and began to stroke her bare arms. She could feel the soft cloth of the woman's dress against her back, the gentle press of breasts against her shoulders.
"I don't want to hurt you Hermione," Minerva said desperately. "It's been too long, and I've never, not with a woman."
Hermione leaned back so that her head lay on McGonagall's shoulder. Slowly, she pulled away the nightdress and let it drift onto the floor.
"I trust you," the girl said.
McGonagall's voice was strange and heavy, her breath hot as she said "Hermione, please." The sound was almost a moan.
"Touch me," Hermione whispered.
Minerva's breathing speeded as her hands slowed, stroking sensuously up and down Hermione's bare arms. With each stroke her fingertips slid closer to the curve of the girl's breasts.
Unable to bear any more, Hermione turned her head and brushed her lips along the woman's throat.
"Please," she begged.
Trembling, Minerva allowed herself to cup the girl's breasts. Hermione made a soft sound of pleasure as tentative fingers rubbed carefully across her hardened nipples.
"Is that - Does it feel good?" Minerva asked nervously.
"Yes," Hermione hissed. She arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against the woman's hands and smiling at McGonagall's gasp of pleasure.
A moment later and it was Hermione's turn to gasp as fingers slid along her sides and danced teasingly across her thighs.
"Do you want me to take the drawers off?" the girl said.
"Please, not yet," Minerva said, her breath rasping. "I can't."
"It's all right," Hermione said. Gently, the girl turned, tugging at the woman until they were laying side by side on the narrow bed. She could feel the older witch shivering madly.
"It's all right," Hermione said again. She covered McGonagall's hand with her own and moved it carefully to the top of her white cotton panties.
Minerva closed her eyes and allowed her hand to slip beneath the thin fabric. Suddenly, Hermione's mouth covered hers and she was lost.
Heat flooded the older woman's body as her stroking fingertips brushed the soft nest of curls hidden between the girl's legs.
"Show me what it's like," Hermione whispered, "When it's someone that you love."
Cautiously Minerva let her fingers slide forward.
Hermione moaned and twisted as the older witch began to rub, first only back and forth, then, as she grew more daring, in gentle circles.
"Profesor McGonagall," Hermione said softly, "Oh God, Minerva." This was better than touching herself had ever been.
McGonagall rolled atop the girl, and shuddered with pleasure as Hermione clung to her. Feeling quite bold, she pressed more deeply at the warm opening beneath her fingers.
"Hermione," Minerva said, "Tell me if it doesn't please you."
"What are you - ?" Hermione managed, then she gasped as she felt a finger slide inside of her.
"Are you all right?" Minerva asked anxiously. She moved as if to withdraw her hand.
"No," Hermione said, "Oh don't stop."
Together, they began to move. Slowly and uncertainly Minerva worked first one and then two fingers inside the quivering girl.
Hermione bit her lip to stifle a cry as McGonagall increased the speed of her thrusts, brushing across the sensative nub with each push. Slowly she reached out and tangled her fingers in the woman's flowing hair.
"Oh my dear," Minerva said.
In a moment the girl gasped, her muscles stiffening. McGonagall moaned as her own climax washed over her in waves.
For a few minutes they lay together in the darkness, Hermione lying silently with her head beneath the older woman's chin.
Minerva realized with a start that she could feel warm wetness running across her shoulder.
Crying. Hermione was crying.
She raised a hand and swiped at the tears on the girl's face.
"Hermione, did I hurt you?" she asked. "What did I do? I'm sorry dear." The witch sat up abruptly.
"No," Hermione said weakly. "You didn't. It's just that it's not like - It's not - "
"What Hermione? It's not what?"
"The books tell you all about it," Hermione burst out, "But it's not like that at all! They don't tell you how it really feels. I thought I knew but it wasn't, it didn't-" She stared at the older woman in the darkness, "I love you so much I hurt."
Minerva ran a trembling hand over the girls cheek. "The books tell you the how of it, love. They can't tell you the rest." She lay down again and wrapped her arms around Hermione's shaking shoulders. "I wish it were all that easy."
"Do you love me?" Hermione asked, her voice breaking a little.
"Give me time, Hermione," Minerva said. "Right now, I honestly don't know whether to kiss you or go straight to Dumbledore and turn myself over to him."
"I have to know," Hermione pleaded. "Do you love me?"
Minerva hid her face in the curve of the girl's neck. "Yes," she whispered.
