Heads up, this is where the story gets rated M. Enjoy.

Chapter Five

Four weeks passed without further incident. Minerva's life went on with very little change, which pleased her, although she couldn't help but have this nagging feeling in the back of her head that there should be more change in her life than there actually was. After the first several days of chatter at Hogwarts, and a flurry of letters from concerned parents about her new marriage, the shock of her handfast with Hermione had worn off and it had gone back to business as usual. She and Hermione had officially moved in together, and were sharing a bed, although aside from chaste kisses and a sense of growing intimacy as they shared with each other details of their daily lives, especially where the pregnancy was concerned, very little had changed between them. Neither of them had initiated a physical relationship beyond that. Minerva wasn't certain if this meant that they both had an underlying need to take things slow despite their wedded status, or if perhaps there wasn't quite as much attraction as they'd initially thought. Minerva worried Hermione regretted marrying her.

It was generally believed that the child Hermione carried was hers. Minerva knew better, as did Narcissa and Poppy, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Robert knew as well, although Robert did not know the identity of the child's father. Minerva knew that eventually she was going to have to tell him, although she was putting it off for as long as she could manage. In her role as a Professor, she'd long since needed to get over the idea that the sins of a man be passed on to his offspring, but her brother had not had that sort of personal growth. Abraxas Malfoy's wand had been the one to end their brother Malcolm's life, and for as much as she'd greatly disliked Lucius, and disapproved of Draco's choices on his own path, she'd not held either of them accountable in regard to Malcolm's death. Robert, however, would be just as content to throw any Malfoy in Azkaban for their brother's death and still call it justice. She had no idea how she was going to convince him that the child that would, by both law and by the choice of her heart, be her son or daughter, would be anything other than something he would hate. Could Robert ever come to love his niece or nephew, once he knew that by blood, the child was a Malfoy? Merlin, she hoped so.

Minerva knew it was just a matter of time until Pomona confronted her about the paternity of the child. Thus far she had left her best friend in peace, but the elder of the pair knew it wouldn't last, and rather than waiting for the Hufflepuff to demand an explanation at the most inappropriate time possible, she'd opted to just head it off at the pass. "I'm going to talk to Pomona," she told Hermione on her way out the door. They'd not really discussed the matter, but her wife couldn't possibly imagine any other reason she'd be going to talk to the woman who'd essentially set them up. Hermione wasn't stupid.

She also didn't disappoint. The younger witch looked up from her book and sighed. "About Draco being the father? I'm honestly surprised it took you this long to decide to talk to her."

"I kept figuring she'd come to me and ask for an explanation. There's no way possible that she honestly believes I both married and impregnated you on the same night," Minerva admitted. "Pomona knows me far too well to think I'd have been that level of either careless or irresponsible."

"Oh, so I'm both careless and irresponsible?" Hermione snipped, looking annoyed. "Thanks."

"Please don't put words in my mouth," she rebounded. "Everybody has standards by which they hold themselves. I have certain standards I hold myself to. So do you. So does everyone else. Pomona knows very well what things I consider responsible and otherwise, for my own behaviour. Both impulsively marrying and impulsively agreeing to a lifetime commitment of a child fall well outside of that pattern of behaviour. You, on the other hand, have at least seven years worth of history of following Harry Potter into potentially life-altering decisions on a bloody whim, so no, I cannot say it was terribly shocking that you would make choices that would impact the rest of your life on an impulse. That does not mean that I think less of you. It simply means that it is not something that I would characteristically do myself, and as marriage to you and a child with you are both choices which impact my life quite directly, Pomona has to be wondering at this point if I've lost my damn mind."

The younger woman looked thoughtful. "I guess I have always been a bit impulsive. I never really thought about it that way. I just thought I was doing what needed to be done. Thinking the thing through never seemed worth the effort, as it wouldn't have changed the fact that Harry needed me."

Minerva kneeled beside her wife. "Hermione, your well-being is just as important as Harry's. In our future together, I should hope that you consider that the well-being of our family on the whole is more important than even the well-being of a single individual member of that family. You cannot go on impulsively acting on the happiness of one without considering the potential hurt of the whole. That's not fair to the rest of us. Even before I was your wife, I was still someone who cared for you, and don't think for a moment it didn't hurt me every damn time you and those boys ran headlong into danger without any consideration for how the rest of us might have helped you if you'd only stopped and asked for it."

Hermione nodded, clearly humbled and chastised. Minerva hated to use her teacher voice, as it were, on her bloody wife, but it needed to be done. She wasn't going to enter into parenthood with this woman and have her inflict onto their children the same self destructive tendencies she'd had in her youth. She wanted her children to trust her, and it was clear that Harry's lack of trust toward adults had rubbed off on Hermione and Ronald. Albus had hoped that Ron's happy home life would have helped Harry learn to trust adults, and Minerva found herself wondering why it hadn't. Hermione should have been the tipping of the scales, so if she'd sided with Harry and Ron had lost the argument, the question begged; why? Hermione had seemed to have a happy enough childhood, although until recently, Minerva had thought she'd been an only child. What else was her wife hiding in regard to her childhood?

With a jolt, Minerva remembered that it was a nanny, not their parents, who had been in the automobile the day Nicolas had died. Being frequently in the care of a nanny wasn't uncommon among British families, mind, but it also wasn't uncommon for children raised by nannies to have a distant and cold relationship with their parents. Resolved to pry more into Hermione's early childhood later, Minerva pressed a kiss to Hermione's lips and said goodbye. She was reminded, now and then, that the Professors at Hogwarts took for granted their early introduction to their students. They met their charges at the age of eleven and so often believed that they therefore knew what they needed to know about their students' childhoods, having witnessed the bulk of it there at the school, but the fact remained that there was still eleven years worth of childhood that they could not account for at all, not to mention the summers they were home after coming to Hogwarts. There were still gaps.

It was almost nine when Minerva arrived at Pomona's quarters, but the Head of Hufflepuff, for some ungodly reason, seemed to sustain life on no more than four hours of sleep per night and rarely went to sleep before two in the morning. Nine was still plenty early to be charging in. She knocked.

Her friend answered with a smirk. "Well hello, Minerva. How's married life?" Pomona asked. "Ready to tell me who actually knocked up your wife?"

Minerva huffed, stormed in the door and slammed it behind her. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet, you suffer me anyway, and have for the last five decades and change," the other woman mused. "It was Draco Malfoy, wasn't it?"

Green eyes narrowed. "How the bloody hell did you guess?"

"I asked Robert, and he said that you wouldn't tell him, but was able to confirm that the child wasn't yours," Pomona said easily. "Of course, I know you well enough to know that there is really only one family whose offspring you'd claim, but hide from Robert. He is going to be rather vexed when he learns the truth."

"I don't know why I bother trying to hide anything from you at all," Minerva groused. "It's pointless."

"Would make more sense not to hide anything," the other witch agreed. "Are you really going to raise the Malfoy heir, though?"

"It's my wife's child, Pomona," she sighed. "Even if I were terribly compelled to press her into aborting, it would be a fight I'd ultimately lose given who my wife is, so it's not worth the fight. Further, I'm not terribly compelled. Yes, Abraxas killed Malcolm. Yes, Lucius was equally as monstrous in his actions, and I feel no regret whatsoever in his passing. Draco, however, while he did make some poor choices as he came into adulthood, pressured by his father, he ultimately did set himself on a different path and had he lived, I believe he would have come to be a better man than the Malfoy family has seen in generations. It could have been a new start for them, and I do intend to honour the efforts that Draco was making by raising his child with the right values, so that they can continue to make the Malfoy name worth a damn. It will be something that both Hermione and I, along with his or her father, can be proud of someday. Robert will just have to get over it."

"What of Narcissa?" Pomona asked thoughtfully.

"Is excited at the chance to have a grandchild by Draco, and considers it a miracle," Minerva confided. "She even offered to burn down the Manor if that's what it took to earn Hermione's trust."

The Hufflepuff frowned. "What's the Manor got to do with Hermione's trust?"

"I wondered that myself at first," the Scottish witch said lowly. "Evidently, right before the battle, Hermione and the boys were taken to Malfoy Manor. That much we knew. What we didn't know was that Hermione was tortured while they were there."

Pomona paled. "Tortured?"

"Extensively," Minerva admitted. "By Bellatrix Lestrange. After the pregnancy and the potions to stabilise Hermione's core, I mean to have Poppy run Hermione through further potions to deal with the damage done by the Cruciatus. She'd not taken those either, and they also can't be taken while pregnant. She's got some serious nerve damage. I've also been trying to talk her into seeing a counsellor at St. Mungo's. That much she can do while pregnant. Of course, that's the one thing I can't seem to talk her into. The stubborn woman is so used to dealing with things on her own."

Her friend laughed a little. "Pot, meet kettle. Still, not many who go under Bellatrix's wand for extended periods even lived to tell the tale. The ones that did weren't doing much in the way of talking. The Longbottoms."

"Don't even get me started on her hairbrained theory about the Longbottoms," Minerva groaned. "It came to her last week while she was reading a Charms book from the restricted section and now she's very moody because she can't test her theory since she's not allowed to do magic."

"Surely she can't fix them," Pomona said doubtfully.

"According to her, she'd need to develop a potion that, when consumed, would allow someone experiencing duo ut unum to actively purge the magical signature which holds them together," Minerva said. "She muttered something about using sands of time as an ingredient in the potion, which made no sense to me and I've never even heard of a potion with that ingredient, but this is Hermione Granger we're talking about, so who knows."

Minerva knew the spell. While restricted, it wasn't really unheard of. It was most often used between siblings who were having trouble learning to get along, or between two Aurors who happened to be related. James Potter and Sirius Black had used it frequently enough, she knew, them being cousins. It was a charm which allowed two magical users who shared a bloodline to temporarily merge in body and mind, effectively becoming one person. Unusual ideas could occur during this merge, as the merged brain thought, or stealth could be achieved as one body had to move through enemy territory instead of two. There were plenty of uses. However, unless you were related and thereby sharing a similar magical signature, you could not use the spell.

Pomona had been thinking silently while Minerva pondered the charm's uses, and suddenly, the other which let out a yelp. "Oh, your girl is very smart."

"So you know what she's going on about?"

The Hufflepuff nodded. "She doesn't have to be related to Frank or Alice. They were both extensively tortured by Lestrange. So was she. There's a lingering magical signature in all three of them. Maybe even enough to fool the charm. So if Hermione can develop a potion to strip the magical signature which caused their condition, which is laced with the properties of the sands of time, then the torture never happened so far as their minds are concerned. Everything else, yes. Time flows naturally. The only thing the potion would target would be what Lestrange's magical signature did - for both of them. The only hangup in this plan I can see is that Hermione, while excellent at Potions, is not a Master, and I think this calls for a Master, and even if she managed the Potion, she cannot perform this procedure on both Frank and Alice. She'd have to pick one. Once she chose one, she'd have lost her own connection to Lestrange and be unable to connect to the other via the duo ut unum charm."

Minerva was following everything Pomona was saying, and now that she laid it all out simply instead of rambling the way Hermione had last week, it did make sense. Her mouth opened to continue the constructive thinking before her brain caught up to it. "There's always Severus. He's been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange more than enough to qualify. He'd also be useful in developing this potion."

Pomona stared at her. "My dear, last I checked, Severus is dead."

She bit her lip and shifted her feet a little. "That, that, that's not entirely accurate," she admitted after a brief pause. Might as well rip the plaster off now, Minerva figured. It wasn't as if Pomona wasn't going to figure it out eventually anyway. She couldn't keep a damn thing from her best friend, and if what Robert and Hermione said was anything to go on, neither were going to rest until Severus was awake and kicking. She'd have her surrogate nephew wide-eyed and rearing for his next battle of wits before Hermione's first trimester was over at this rate.

In the meantime, her best friend's current inability to form words was making her day. Minerva smirked a little. "What? Cat got your tongue, Pomona?"

"Hello Severus," Hermione greeted, stepping into the Potions Master's quarters. "Hello Robert."

Robert McGonagall was working in the adjoining lab, which was now more or less in the same room since he'd removed the wall between the two spaces so that he could watch Severus while he worked. Hermione had always just gone back and forth to check on her former Professor, but Robert insisted that was a waste of time. He set up wards so that any explosions in the lab would be contained and Severus would still be well protected, but he could see his surrogate son at all times. "I love how the man in a coma gets greeted before the one slaving over a cauldron."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He was here first. It's his quarters. I've known him much longer than I've known you. It would be rude to not address him first."

Robert laughed. "Well, when you put it that way, fine. If you weren't so clearly enamoured with my sister I'd wonder if you were sweet on my son."

She shrugged. "I've always been fond of him, even if circumstances didn't allow me to show it. I did try to show respect toward him, at least. I hope he was able to see that much, although he did always seem annoyed by me. I never felt romantically inclined, even if I am sexuallly inclined both ways. The affection I felt was always more… familial, which I suppose is sort of convenient given the fact that if all goes according to plan, I'll technically be his aunt by marriage, and he my nephew."

"I wouldn't count on him calling you Aunt Hermione, if I were you," Robert warned.

Hermione laughed. "No, I can't imagine he would. I'll consider myself lucky if I can get him to address me as anything other than Miss Granger, or maybe Mrs. McGonagall. Would just Hermione be too much to ask for, do you think? Will he lose his mind if I call him Severus?"

"You saved his life, Hermione," Robert said. "You are more than entitled to call him by name for that alone, in my book. Knowing him, he'll disagree, however I'll gladly beat sense into him after he wakes up if he kicks up a fuss over the issue. After I hug the stuffing out of him, of course."

"He's got to get some stuffing built up first," she cautioned. "The nutrient potions keep him alive, but he's still so thin."

"Fair enough," the Potions Master agreed. "Although I could probably tweak the standard version of that to add more fat content. Perhaps help put more meat on his bones in the coming weeks so when we do wake him up, he's not just skin and bones."

"Speaking of Potions tweaking," Hermione said, eyes gleaming, "where do you suppose one would get their hands on some sands of time?"

Robert raised an eyebrow. "As a potions ingredient? That's no potion I've ever heard of."

"Alright fine," she gave. "Original concept."

"I remind you that you don't have a mastery."

"Did Severus ever tell you what I brewed, in a Lavatory my second year, without supervision?" she asked sweetly.

He frowned, then shrugged. "What, some acne cream or some crap?"

"Polyjuice Potion."

He nearly dropped his stirring rod. "What? Are you mad? How badly did you botch it?"

"I didn't botch it at all, thank you very much," she said, crossing her arms. "At least, not in the brewing. I did however learn the hard way that one musn't use cat hair for the transformation. I'm sure Minerva can tell you all about how long I was in the Hospital Wing for that mishap. Harry and Ron's transformations, however, went perfectly."

"That shows real talent, albeit a fair amount of insanity that you would even attempt it at that age, much less without supervision," he mused. "I submit further evidence to my case that, if not for your muggleborn heritage, you'd have sorted to Slytherin."

"Probably shouldn't tell Minerva."

He grinned. "Let's not. So, sands of time as a potions ingredient. What are you thinking?"

"The duo ut unum charm allows for two persons of similar magical signature to join together temporarily," she said. "I trust you know about this charm."

"Of course."

"I was tortured at Malfoy Manor, by Bellatrix Lestrange," she admitted carefully. "No, I don't want to talk about it, but it's relevant data for the conversation at hand."

"Merlin," he muttered. "I've no love for the Malfoys. I don't know if Minerva's said, but it was Abraxas who killed Malcolm and his family. I'm sorry you had to go through that in their home, and I imagine under their supervision and consent, if not at their pleasure."

Hermione stopped short, understanding clearly why her wife had not wanted Robert to know who the father of her child was. Robert was clearly holding on to some serious unforgiveness toward the Malfoy family in general, and if he knew their child was the Malfoy heir, Merlin knew how he'd react. She swallowed, and buried the information in her mind, continuing with the subject at hand. "Thank you for your concern," she said. "In any case, I found myself recently considering the case of Frank and Alice Longbottom. Their son Neville is a dear friend of mind, after all. Long term exposure to that kind of curse at someone's hand leaves behind a residue - a signature."

He nodded. "So you're supposing that you could viably - you or anyone else who had been seriously tortured by Bellatrix - achieve duo ut unum with someone else who was victim of her curse but no longer able to actually cast. Such as Frank or Alice. Only one person has to cast the charm."

Hermione smiled. "Correct. Granted, I don't think there's anyone still alive except Frank and Alice, although it would be worth looking. In theory, there may be others out there like Frank and Alice who aren't victims of Bellatrix, but of someone else, who could be paired with others in their right minds who were tortured by the matching caster. Ultimately, the theory here is this; that one caster is insane, one is not. Both tortured by the same person. They merge together via duo ut unum. Then, we develop a potion which utilises the sands of time, some of the properties used in the potion that makes up the base of the Pensieve perhaps, and probably some antibiotic elements, and bring it together to create something that effectively rips out the magical signature which binds the two parties together in the duo ut unum, so that when they separate because there's nothing holding them together anymore, the minds and bodies have both reverted to a point before the spell damage occurred. That won't change muscle atrophy or anything like that, but things that were spell damage directly, would be erased by the sands of time. The beauty in this is that one caster's sanity cures one person's insanity via the charm. In theory."

The Potions Master looked thoughtful. "That's a hell of a theory."

"I know."

"Most Potions Masters wouldn't touch it with a ten metre stirring rod," he admitted. "Partly because it's outlandish and could go wrong in a number of ways, and partly because it's in no way lucrative, given it would only help a few people."

"I know," she agreed again.

"We're going to have to wake Severus up first," he mused. "Even if you figured out how to do this, you couldn't fix both Frank and Alice. You'd need someone else who'd been through a tourture session by Bellatrix. Severus wouldn't be too hard to convince if it would rid him of many of his numerous aches and pains. He's also rather keen on proving outlandish theories."

She grinned. "I know."

Robert looked at the clock and realised it was nearly ten. "If your wife gets home and you're not there, it's my arse that will be in trouble."

The grin faded, and Hermione sighed. "I know…bugger."

The young woman moved over to Severus' bed and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight Severus."

"Your sister wants me to talk to a counsellor about what happened at Malfoy Manor," she admitted before she walked out the door.

"Then talk to a counsellor," he said.

"I talk to Severus about it," she argued.

"He can't talk back," Robert countered. "You need feedback."

"I talk to George, sometimes," Hermione tried.

"George won't talk back," the older man said, pausing his movements and looking at her with eyes that matched his sister's. "He won't call you out when you need to be called out, Hermione, because he needs your friendship too much. You need someone who is willing to call you on your shite."

"I could talk to you," she offered weakly, in a last ditch effort to bail out of counselling. A part of her knew she needed it, but she hated the idea intensely. She hated feeling that weak. She hated the idea of sharing herself with a stranger. She hated the idea of trusting herself with an institution, when institutions had never done anything but let her down.

Robert laughed. "At what point in our, albeit brief, relationship have I given you the impression that I'm a people person? Honestly Hermione, I have the life skills of a niffler. You'd be better off getting advice from Argus Filch. Do both of us, and my sister a favour, and get proper help from a proper counsellor, who can get your head properly screwed on, ideally before you and Minerva become proper parents. Don't you want to be the best version of yourself for your child?"

That notion hit Hermione like a kick in the gut. For a man professing no people skills and poor life skills, he'd known exactly what advice to give to send her running for therapy. Merlin. Of course she wanted to be a good mother! Her own parents certainly hadn't been shining examples to learn from, and for as much as she adored Minerva as a person, she couldn't say she didn't see Minerva's failures as a Head of House, just as she saw failures in Pomona, Filius, and Severus over the years. None of them were perfect, just as none of them were horrible. They'd all been a step up from her parents, of course, so perhaps she'd judged them less harshly by comparison. In any case, yes, she wanted to learn. Maybe, in addition to St. Mungo's, she could spend some time with Molly Weasley. It wasn't a substitute, but Molly had done well by Ron and his siblings, and that was something to aspire toward. If ever there was a parental example she wanted to follow, Molly was a very good option to consider.

"Goodnight Robert," she conceded.

"Goodnight Hermione," he said, looking amused. "Give Minerva my love."

"Robert sends his love," Hermione said as soon as Minerva reentered their quarters.

"I take it you nipped down to see him and Severus while I was out to see Pomona?" she asked, not even remotely surprised. Hermione seemed to habitually like to check in on Severus at least twice a day, even if she could no longer magically do much to be of help to him. What had once been her responsibility to change his linens and magic nutrient potions into his stomach and so forth had been shifted to one of Robert's personal House Elves, but it did not seem to change Hermione's preference to keep a close eye on the situation in general.

Minerva had only gone down to see Severus once, shortly after learning he was alive four weeks prior. She told Robert and Hermione that her movements were watched more closely than theirs and it was only asking to get caught if she kept disappearing into the former Potions Master's locked quarters, but the truth was that it had been very startling for her to see Severus in a coma like that, looking so thin and sickly, and she couldn't bring herself to revisit the sight. It was haunting her in her dreams often enough as it was.

"As usual," Hermione confirmed. "How did it go with Pomona?"

"She guessed it was Draco from the off," the older witch scoffed, "based on the fact that she'd gotten Robert to admit the child wasn't biologically mine, but that he didn't know who the father was, and she knew me well enough to guess as to why I'd keep Robert in the dark if a Malfoy was the father."

"Robert mentioned that Abraxas killed Malcolm," her wife said softly. "I'm sorry."

Minerva groaned. "Please don't tell me that you told Robert Draco is the father…"

Hermione shook her head. "No. The history with Abraxas only came up because we were talking about what happened to me at Malfoy Manor. We'd been discussing my theory about the Longbottoms."

Relief flooded through her. She was not prepared for that particular shite show with Robert just yet, and it didn't surprise her that Hermione would take her thoughts regarding the Longbottoms to him. At least he'd be able to make sense of them. "If you and Robert get stuck on the charms application part of your theory, you could always speak to Filius," Minerva offered, trying to be supportive. "He's done a great deal in regard to charms research and development."

Her wife smiled in appreciation. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

"Are you about ready to head to bed, then?" Minerva asked, knowing that this particular conversation had come to a stall. "I still need to shower."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "So do I. Perhaps… perhaps we could shower together."

Minerva raised an eyebrow, thinking again of the fact that Hermione hadn't initiated much in the way of physical intimacy since their handfasting. "Are you sure?" she asked softly.

The younger witch laughed. "Minerva, I've been sure since the day I married you. I've been holding back not because I was uncertain, but because you seemed to be uncertain. I wanted to give you time to adapt. I want you, desperately. Do you want me?"

The last four weeks, Minerva had been living in self doubt, wondering if Hermione had regretted her choice to handfast. Living with this woman day in and day out had been so bloody easy that it had done nothing but solidify her inebriated decision to take Hermione as her wife, no matter how complicated it had made her life. If she had no regrets, and Hermione had no regrets, then what the bloody hell were they waiting for?

Minerva crossed the room swiftly and pulled Hermione into a scorching kiss, hoping that answered the damn question clearly enough. The younger witch moaned into her mouth, hands grabbing her face and pulling her closer, as Minerva's arms held Hermione's body tightly against her own. "Mine…" Minerva breathed.

"Yours," Hermione agreed, voice raw with emotion. "How about that shower?"

A part of Minerva wanted to argue and just move right to the bedroom, but it had been a long day and they were both in need of getting clean. Besides, there was nothing wrong with a decent bout of foreplay. Once into the bathroom, they helped one another strip as Minerva flicked her wand to turn on the large shower, steam beginning to fill the room. There was barely a moment during the process where they stopped kissing and touching, each article of clothing removed offering more skin to explore.

Minerva was surprised, but pleasantly so, when Hermione showed a dominant side of her personality as they entered the shower together, pushing her against the tile wall roughly and then slowly kissing her way down her wife's body. The older witch gasped as Hermione suckled her breasts, then kissed her stomach and hips as she kneeled on the floor, before nipping at the inside of Minerva's thighs with her teeth, causing the older woman to impulsively move her legs apart.

She ought to have seen it coming when Hermione looked up at her with a grin, and then moved her mouth between Minerva's legs and began to taste her wife's centre. "Gods, Hermione…" the older witch moaned, grabbing at a wall for some support, and when that failed, resting a hand on her wife's shoulder. "Oh, Merlin…"

After a few minutes, Hermione paused, and looked up at her again, this time with an expression that seemed one part curiosity and one part utter and complete lust. "Can you… I want to feel you inside of me."

They hadn't done that the night of Beltane, and Minerva had to admit that she was eager to try the spell. The idea of being inside of her wife was a carnal, animalistic sort of lust and if she was perfectly honest with herself, had Hermione not just suggested it, they'd probably not have made it through the night without her suggesting it herself. "Yes," she all but growled.

Casting the spell wandlessly was a bit more difficult than if she'd had her wand with her, but she was not about to ruin the moment by summoning it. She could afford the magical energy for it. A few seconds later, the transformation was complete, and her anatomy had morphed in entirety. Were Hermione not already pregnant, it would be feasible to get her pregnant in this manner. It did change everything.

She'd been about to help Hermione to her feet so she could get on with the getting inside of her wife, when Hermione surprised her and enveloped her mouth around the changed anatomy. Minerva's brain exploded. "Oh, gods!" she gasped. "That… that's… wow…darling if you keep that up I won't last."

Hermione pulled away with a smirk, and allowed Minerva to help her up, kissing her softly. "Just wanted to try that out."

"It felt incredible, Hermione," Minerva admitted, "but I want to make you feel good too."

Hermione grabbed Minerva's waist, and spun them, so that she was now back against the wall. "Don't let me stop you, love."

Minerva pressed her body against her wife, pressing her hard erection against Hermione's stomach, enjoying the moan that came out of the younger woman's mouth. She proceeded to kiss Hermione again, first on the mouth, and then along her neck, and down to her breasts, following her wife's example by moving on to the stomach, hips, thighs, and eventually, between Hermione's legs.

"Yes, Min…" Hermione breathed. "That's it. All I want is you."

She didn't spend as much time going down on Hermione as Hermione had done for her. Another time, she'd draw that activity out, ideally when she wasn't kneeling on a tile floor and her knees weren't deeply protesting. Hermione was wet and ready and more to the point, wanted to be shagged. Thank Merlin being an Animagus gave her good upper body strength, because it gave her the ability to easily lift her young wife up, and without any ceremony whatsoever, impale her.

"Fuck…" Minerva let out as she felt Hermione's walls clamp around her. There was no feeling in the world like this. It was Nirvana. "Oh, sweet fuck…"

Hermione moaned at the contact, and kissed Minerva fiercely. "Yes!" she breathed between kisses. "Gods, you feel amazing. Move now, Min. Move!"

And move she did. The next few minutes were something of a blur for Minerva. Conscious thought was lost to pure sensation, and if the sounds Hermione was making were any indication, and the repeated way she kept clamping down on Minerva like a fucking vice, the younger witch had several orgasms before Minerva finally came crashing down, almost dropping Hermione in the process. "Gods…" she choked, as Hermione's back slammed into the wall.

They were both panting heavily as Minerva slowly lowered her wife to the floor. Both women were smiling shyly at one another as they proceeded to make small talk as they actually showered in the shower, Minerva's anatomy returned to normal by the time they padded off to bed together half an hour later. Neither bothered getting pyjamas on as they climbed into bed, and as the older witch drifted off to sleep spooned against her young wife, she couldn't help but hope that this would be the new normal. It wasn't about the sex; not really. Sex was nice, and so were deeply personal relationships. She'd had both in her life over the years, but Minerva had never been blessed enough to have both in a package deal. She'd never had a relationship with someone that she felt was both deeply personal, like what she had with Pomona, but that included incredible sex. With Hermione, she believed it was possible that she could have everything.

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