She repeated her haphazard drafted list— Parents, NEWTS, Job, Mastery, Place to live, Projects to take on….
Then perhaps due to the draining emotional rollercoaster and or pure physical tiredness, plus Minerva's soothing stroking of her hair… Hermione could not help but fluttered her eyes close.
Year 1998 | 1st Seventh of May
Chapter 7
Still the same evening | The Very First One
For the third time that night, in a faint lighted room, Hermione opened her eyes in disorientation. She yanked in a semi-sitting position as the classical designed bedchamber instead of her old familiar bedroom at their house in London registered her consciousness. Instant panic reigned in for a moment, but only for a moment as she had forgotten her whereabouts.
But her brain quickly coped with her surroundings as she listed the obvious quality of the room's columns and panels, and brought reconciliation of her present state.
She settled her head back unto the pillow, wondered what woke her up and at the same time realised her earlier apparent surrender to sleep- while she was talking to Minerva…
The very witch whose emerald eyes clouded with concern roused her from unconsciousness – twice.
Minerva.
When she turned on her side, her nose caught the lingering scent of olive left on the pillow her face is pressed upon.
Minerva.
Inadvertently, a sigh from the deepest core of Hermione's soul came through as the entirety of the last few hours prances in her mind… conflicting with her resolutions... colliding with implications… clashing with her heart's desire… and fastening her entirety with one woman...
Minerva.
Not in a million years Hermione could have imagined that there will be a time that she would faint in Minerva's metaphorical arms at a ruined Hogwarts no less. And wake up in one of the bedchambers at McGonagall's Manor. She did not even know there is a McGonagall Manor! It was surely one of those things she never found from the several books, (and several is quite understated) or articles she came across that featured the woman. In fact, she realised just now that there is a misleading reference to Hogwarts as the woman's only place of abode.
Hermione didn't know as well that it was ever possible to be eating in bed with the ever-formal woman she had watched countlessly at the dining hall at Hogwarts. That even Albus Dumbledore cannot escape receiving reproach for his comics during mealtimes by his then Deputy - the woman who in contrast had casually schemed her into finally eating by sharing a plate with her... and drinking from one glass...
Who would have known that her boggart admission would ever make the woman laugh fervently? And laughed to the point of affecting her emerald eyes to sparkle with joyful amusing tears. That was not the stern Transfiguration Professor she was accustomed with. Six years at school and she could not remember a single moment she had seen the woman do more than twitch the corner of her lips in amusement.
Hermione didn't know that she'd ever hear the woman profess her desire to be with her, okay, granted to be with her for protection, and not only her – but with Harry and Ron… to protect them during their horcrux hunt. Hermione will never forget the regretful pained expression on the witch's face during admittance for not being with them.
Hermione was also unfamiliar with the woman who had awakened her with tender petition when sleep had thrown her into another replayed episode of hell during their captivity at the Malfroy's. The clipped, no nonsense Scottish tone is what she was used to hear at Hogwarts. Completely far from the gentle pleading voice that moored her with sense of security and pulled her away from the nightmare.
Hermione was not acquainted with the woman who lovingly held her when the dam of sorrows inside her broke down, flooded her emotions from the sufferings of the war. She was used to the physical detachment employed by their Head of House that while concern would sound off with Scottish brogue, the woman never betrayed her strict countenance when she dealt with them. Hence to be carried by pale but strong arms of the emerald-eyed witch was unthinkable. To be caressed in earnest was inconceivable.
Hermione had read about the Minerva McGonagall war heroine and many of her career accolades, but she would never have guessed the severity of wounds and sufferings that the woman had endured for the two – now three wars. That this woman would pull open her own scars; expose private details just to reach out to her… to band with her in her desolate state. And anchored her in.
Certainly Hermione is not familiar with the very demonstrative Minerva who was introduced to her tonight… the intimate Minerva that she spent the earlier part of the evening. No doubt that here in her home, the public persona was shed... this is the private Minerva unknown to most... kept hidden...
But really, Hermione had long guessed that behind her damnable walls, Minerva is so much more.. Kind... generous... loving... And beautiful... And very brave...
And while bravery is one unsurprising dominant value of their Gryffindor head, it is almost incomprehensible how truly brave the witch is... the woman is almost unbelievably brave. And strong.
Merlin, at 14 years old – the witch had redefined the concept of courage and strength. When Minerva revealed her sorrows, her pain, Hermione cannot see frailty, instead her belief of the witch's strength merely reasserted. Of how overpoweringly strong — that storms have no chance to drench the woman. That lighting cannot strike the witch. And the sun would fail to burn Minerva McGonagall.
Hermione could not help but get drunk with the woman's gloriousness. A couple of hours spent in admittance inside the older witch's damn impregnable walls, and she already found herself euphorically chained furthermore.
A muggle writer – Agatha Christie, once penned the phrase 'Very few of us are what we seem'. That would have been an understatement of epic proportion when associated with the complexity of Minerva McGonagall. The kind that no one could ever imagined.
The woman is a walking masterpiece – but why not as pronounced as before? The answer is simple; she had long mastered erecting her walls. And she had strategically stayed behind them. Then until recently, her dominant cover was one Albus Dumbledore.
By choice, by chance, by circumstances, it mattered little. Minerva seemed to have contentedly settled into second of Dumbledore – even stood far behind the wizard.
But now that her cloak is dead—gone, the grandeur is seeping out… Had seeped out actually from the time the woman raised her wand to defend Hogwarts less than a week ago. Her answer to the call of the circumstances required her to be who she really is– a leader fighting for the light. And because the woman would never choose cowardice, some veil needed to be dropped... Thus finally let them bear witness to such Gryffindor— and the magnificence is irrefutable!
Hermione's fast working brain could easily guess which blanket Minerva would now enshroud herself with. That instead of choosing to ride to the top of the majestic position, she is certain that Minerva would employ Hogwarts as substitution to Dumbledore. The woman would make it all about the school, the staff, the students, the former students—consequently almost every magical person... except herself.
But Hermione can easily see that even with the domineering castle, without the convenience of staying behind Dumbledore, the prevalent pronouncement of the woman's entirety is inevitable. This time, it would unravel with certainty for everyone not to recognise.
Somehow, it already commenced with the woman decisions and actions during the battle, more so mere minutes after the battle. The manner she carried the war-torn Wizarding community on her shoulders when most were lost naturally unleashed the true Minerva McGonagall— a powerful and brilliant witch.
If one would just be perceptive enough, one would recognise that while books have described her magical capabilities as one not lacking in proficiency, it must be so much more as there were always talks of the woman's core magic to be so much more. And how it must not be just talks - but with strong basis as Albus Dumbledore had always given Minerva such regard.
She is a masterpiece indeed... The woman had just chosen to work behind the curtain - because she could afford so with Dumbledore around...
Hermione's awareness of the exquisiteness and vastness of the older woman grew into a level she is unprepared but very much willing to know, even thirsty to know. With the glimpse she had— from the battle, from the events right after the battle, and most particularly from tonight- she cannot be more positive that the woman is so much more underneath. She could feel it in her bones that she barely scratched the surface.
But along with it is the knowledge that getting to know and witnessing facets of Minerva is like scaling a fortress… You have to brave the unchartered terrain, trudge forth… brick by brick. And bloody hell she wants to learn more of the woman who had long captured her heart. She needs more.
So much more of Minerva.
And heavens help her as she could not think of better way to spend her life but dive into the depth of the character of the woman. Even if she weren't as deeply in love with Minerva, now she would not know how to not love the woman – not at this point.
It's not fair, what chance do I have to be liberated from this? The questions slammed into her mind, heart and soul.
How could I be more in-love with the woman than I was yesterday? Hermione defenselessly admitted in her heart.
Fear grappled her. Half in knowing that there will be no one else she'll ever love as much. And the other half from the fueling courage coursing inside her to make due of a promise she made during the war – give her heart's desire full reverence no matter what.
'Bloody hell... Either way I'm doomed. She concluded desperately.
Hermione turned on her other side; away from the side of the pillow that Minerva had lain to dispel the intoxicating scent, she needed to seek some sort of clarity from the mess her heart and mind had taken residence.
On the other side of the room, which she had earlier discounted is another door - one that is currently ajar.
Whether by fate… by coincidence… that door had led her into a relatively small receiving room… a kind of a connecting room to another bedchamber — Minerva's bedroom.
Its door is likewise ajar, and with the sky's natural light streaming from the partially drawn curtain of the windows, Hermione could see the large bed— where the older woman is sleeping.
From her position at the doorway, Hermione's heart clenched at the sight. Undoubtedly, every second spent even just within the vicinity of Minerva only led her into deeper breadth of attachment… One she willingly drowns herself in… Filling her lungs of Minerva with every breath she takes.
Hermione did not know what made her move forward into the room, but not even three steps from entering, Hermione was stunned that Minerva had roused in alarm– already wand on hand in seemingly split second. And as swiftly, the fir dragon heartstring was lowered upon recognition that it was no enemy attacking.
"Is everything alright?" asked Minerva in soft but audible Scottish brogue in concern.
Hermione could see that the alarm on the older woman's face has retreated, and obvious worry replaced it. She could also see how the witch blinked the last of drowsiness and focused on her after the well-used wand was put away on the bedside table and somehow settled back into bed.
On the other hand, Hermione felt like few seconds have been fast-forwarded and lost on her when she felt her hip pressed with the woman's side. It is only then did she realise that her feet had carried her further into the room unknowingly. Then sat down on the bed. Vaguely, she thought of how she is mirroring the way Minerva had sat with her earlier. And how this time, the older woman is the one lying in bed.
"I'm sorry I woke you up."
"It's not important. Did you have another nightmare?" The woman waved her hand to magically gauge time then uttered, "It's not even eleven o'clock – you barely had two hours sleep." Gentle but worried voice asked Hermione, "You can't sleep anymore?"
She slowly shook her head in an answer but unable to say anything. She knew that she is staring too hard but she could not help herself. Seeing Minerva for the first time with her luxuriant black hair spread on the pillow and slightly tousled from sleep is entrancing to say the least. The other woman's face is clearly devoid of any concealment charms and Hermione is struck with how breathtakingly beautiful the woman is. She always thought that the witch employs some sort of de-glamour spells. But now devoid of them, she had correctly proven so... Oh Salazar, the Slytherins truly have no idea how accurate they are of how Minerva is defying elementals.
At her astonished state, Hermione had almost missed out of what the woman was saying.
"…Strangely with the war over, sleep is so much harder to find than during the actual war. The terror will continue to hunt each of us for quite some time, some longer or worse than others… but no matter what, we can get past it if we persevere."
Minerva reached out to one of her hands, and impulsively interlaced their fingers, clasped them in a tight and familiar gesture.
"We just need to grab on what we think that could anchor us onward."
She comprehended that Minerva is still doing her best to ease her distress, obviously to convey assurance, and deliver some kind of aspiration. Hermione nodded to acknowledge the expressed statement. But then she wondered about the significance of their intertwined hands in reference to the profound counsel— 'grab on what we could anchor us'…
And wondered if Minerva had noted of it…
"After surviving Grindelwald's war, or even the first of Tom Riddle's, when you had to move forward, did you… did you do the things you promised yourself — if you ever come out alive?
Hermione is too aware of what she is currently setting herself with that question… Building herself a window, a platform, or a launching board to jump into the abyss.
"Most of what I needed to. And some of what I wanted to." Minerva responded while in apparent reflection. "Hermione, even without the war, we still have to assess the things that we think we need, and the things that we feel that we want."
Hermione thought of what she needs... Or is it who she needs— Minerva.
Hermione thought of what she wants... Or is it who she wants— Minerva.
To fight against what she feels for the woman is like swimming against the tide, the tide of loving the woman… the tide that would only have her drown. She's an idiot for falling in love with the woman. And possibly the biggest idiot to consider that she can work about un-loving the woman. What a bullshit resolution as she knows she has no chance of success. None at all.
"There are some things that are as undoable whether you are in a war or not. But those you could, especially if you need to, or sometimes you want to with ever fiber of your being… perhaps you just have to do so... or else, they say what is the point of breathing?"
Hermione heard Minerva's pronouncement and it drove her into an ultimatum...
Powerless to employ intelligence, she surrenders...
To love Minerva is insanity… but loving Minerva could not be more logical for Hermione. Because she is so certain that if she does not try- she fears the craving will only carve herself empty...
She finally reached that place of knowing nothing else but thrusting herself into the abyss…
"Could things be that simple?"
"Sometimes they could be. Sometimes they never are." Minerva answered her question, a question Hermione did not realise that she had voiced out.
Her big brain made one feeble attempt to stop her plummeting. It told her that the woman was referring to a different frame of context. That the veteran war survivor was apparently pointing to her earlier posted question of war aftermath... of surviving... But it was no use.
Her brain had shut down...
And her soul ripped wide open...
Hermione went forth and plunged into the unknown and trailed after the beating of her heart…
She loves Minerva.
She needs Minerva.
She wants Minerva.
Hermione's unoccupied left hand purposely travelled the length of Minerva's right arm to the woman's jaw, and then held smooth check in caress.
Minerva's eyes widened at the boldness… Countenance immediately turned into a grievous questioning one. But Hermione held the gaze and let the older woman search for the answers she knew were being sought...
'Yes, I know what I am doing. I am of age. I am no longer your student. And what is the point of breathing if not to go after what we want, what we need?'
She couldn't tell how long that moment of searching went on but she could tell that Minerva had found and convinced of the silent answers when her emerald eyes shifted into a glassy darker shade, and intuitively uttered her name in breathless whisper, "Hermione…"
Bewilderment… Arousal… Affection… Fear… All at once they flashed on the beautiful face of Minerva McGonagall.
Certainty… Arousal… Affection… Courage… All of them settled into Hermione's soul.
Hermione bent down and her plush lips pressed down on thin lips in the lightest of contact - just the slightest. Then she had their noses softly rubbed before she withdrew and gave space… But one of her hands indulged in the strands of black hair around the older witch's temple… and their still intertwined fingers loosened as Hermione's thumb reverently stroke Minerva's palm…
The gentle actions are quite maddening to Hermione as they are in absolute contrast to the powerful need coursing in her to ravish the older woman, but she employed patience and control. Although her actions were not pushed away, she is aware that she cannot discount that they are precariously at a precipice.
Suspended.
Even with the incredible sensation already spinning all over her, she gave Minerva time; time to be definite with her own response. Though her eyes, which had turned into whiskey-colored ones, firmly held emerald eyes— which are currently tentative ones in apparent uproar. And she willed the woman who had seized her heart to fathom that it's hers. Actually had been hers for quite sometime.
"May I kiss you again?" Hermione whispered in yearning but remained unmoving… waiting for acceptance.
When emeralds left her brown eyes and travelled to her lips, Hermione made a move for a second kiss, but stopped mid-way and breathed with equal yearning, "Will you kiss me back Minerva?"
Both of them seemed to have stopped breathing... Poised at the very brink… Hermione lost track how long they were frozen at that juncture… Until Minerva's hand had reached up to her neck, and drew her close. Finally responded to the intimacy.
They met for a kiss.
One that was asked and answered…
One that also started the hammering in Hermione's heart into a thundering rave. Yet astoundingly fashioning the long-awaited contentment in Hermione's soul.
When they parted for a final-final check, pure desire reflected in emeralds; of the very same degree that Hermione knew reflected in hers.
Intuitively, Hermione raised her body, climbed over Minerva's and completely crashed their lips into another kiss. The feeling had fuelled Hermione for more bold movements, so she probed open the older woman's lips. When the latter acquiesced, Hermione felt a shudder ran through her. And at the first touch of their tongues, for unexplained reasons, they felt like old acquaintances greeting each other.
The burning that Hermione felt with the realisation of what is definitively within her grasp is threatening at an accelerated speed to pounce on Minerva, but she is determined to cherish each moment.
She put a grip on her inclination to magically banish the clothes presently hindering her pursuit to learn every millimeter of Minerva's body. She elected to savour each button untagged with her own hands, followed by her lips on each revealed skin— one she truly longs to see and touch, but she never even dared imagine before.
After Hermione pushed the material away from Minerva's smooth shoulders, she briefly dazed out caused by the naked chest in front of her. She almost jumped when Minerva pulled her pajama top, removed it over her head, completely bypassed the buttons and confidently crushed their bare upper bodies together that elicited groans from both.
They captured back each other's lips, but this time their kisses have become long deep savouring ones… Tasting each other like they would never have enough…
Their eyes fluttered closed despite their intent to gaze at each other… Hermione knew that these exquisite moments are now burnt into her mind, heart and soul.
"Hermione…?" asked Minerva in thick Scottish burr that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. But with the urge she also heard the supplication for a pause, and so she dragged her lips away. Definitely shaking from the sensation, she pressed her lips on Minerva's temple; not giving more than that for a disconnection.
"Darling…" Hermione lips curved into a smile when she felt Minerva's equally shaking passion. The normally eloquent woman is currently having difficulty piercing her words into a sentence. "…Darling tell me, tell me that…that you're certain of—"
"Without a doubt Minerva." Hermione re-affirmed immediately. Not even letting the voiced concern be completed. She trailed her lips at Minerva's jaw, before she moved to elegant neck, and sucked on the found pulse point. She heard the heavy groan from the older witch and this pushed her own craving in surging warmth. And greedily take more of Minerva.
With milky white chest unveiled to her, Hermione touched and kissed it with tenderness. She gave adulation to the strangely quite faded scars from the stunning spells endured by the woman only just a year ago. Most if not all had heard of the incident; how it had seemed impossible for anyone to survive fours spells. But Minerva did. Hermione's heartbeat ran a little faster at the realisation that now, she is the one kissing these scars.
Her mouth travelled downwards, wanting to taste more. One of Minerva's hands running through her brown hair tightened when she took one breast into her mouth. Learning fast in pleasuring the woman for each passing second, Hermione took one nipple and rolled it against her tongue and gently pulled it with her teeth. She felt Minerva's other hand that has been skimming her back clawed her a little, raised the hairs on her skin with the stimulating touch.
Hermione devoured at Minerva's other breast before she continued moving down the body of the woman. Making her head spin faster… with no other thoughts but Minerva… More of Minerva.
She reverently caressed another scar, one across tone abdomen, one accounted for that bloodbath during Grindelwald's capture. Light kisses she rained on it and had her tongue ran back and forth at it; an injury long healed that is now just a faint white line, far from the grievous injury described, nonetheless an evidence of the woman's bravery.
Hermione removed the rest of the woman's clothes and skimmed her hands along smooth strong legs, and settled herself between them. It caused the older woman to flush deeper, and had her elegant hands clenching the sheets.
Hermione dived at Minerva's apex, her fingers fluttered across the hairs and her senses leapt into that exhilarated state. Quite urgently she felt thirst like never before at the display before her face. She could not go any slower and had to have more of Minerva. She took a single long lick and grinned maddeningly when Minerva's body instantaneously lifted in tremors.
This is what she was meant to do— love Minerva.
Hermione finally permitted herself to be lost in the scent, taste and feel of Minerva. Kissing and nipping and licking… Absorbing Minerva… Somewhat battling for control not to ravage the woman… She let her entire body follow what it always wanted to do— be with Minerva.
Tentatively Hermione started tracing Minerva most sensitive parts with her fingers, and groaned with the older woman at the found moisture. Likewise, she felt unfamiliar but delicious warmth and dampness spreading between her own legs; consequence of pleasuring Minerva. The sensation finally took over and Hermione found herself returning into tasting the love of her life together with her fingers now entering and withdrawing in earnest.
When she looked up at the older woman's face, she was spellbound by the exquisiteness of her expression, and only roused from the deliciousness of it all when she heard Minerva uttered her name in her heavy ancestry, accompanied by a Gaelic phrase that she filed into her brain to check its translation.
When the woman started to thrash her body erratically, Hermione doubled her exertion in giving the woman pleasure. Then several ragged heartbeats later, Hermione unreservedly witnessed the perpetually stoic Minerva McGonagall shattered that common depiction as the woman was tipped over the edge. Hermione had never seen anything so beautiful.
As Minerva came down from euphoria, Hermione climbed back up, and returned into brushing raven locks at the temple with one free hand. Contentment unfelt before just schooled Hermione that no book she rather commit to her big brain than the features and expression of Minerva at the moment. And when Minerva opened her eyes; Hermione was treated with the most glorious shade of green.
At her elated state, combined with much desire still coursing through her being, Hermione watched emeralds darkened after she pulled her fingers, instinctively lifted them to her mouth and sucked Minerva's luscious remnants. Before Hermione could voice out that she wants more of the woman, Minerva reached for said fingers and directed them into her own mouth and sucked them herself. Hermione swore that there is a direct line from her fingertips to her lower belly as her arousal propelled to unknown degree caused by such actions.
As Minerva licked her fingers and pierced her emerald eyes into hers, Hermione felt another arm secured her waist and be flipped over. In her haze, she couldn't make out what the other woman had murmured but when she was pressed into the mattress, and felt her naked lower body collided with Minerva's, then she understood that the rest of her clothing was magically banished by the witch.
"Gods Minerva!" Hermione gasped and moaned subsequently when teeth nipped her ear, and tongue outlined her jaw down her neck.
The sensation has now flooded Hermione and escalated furthermore when she felt her breasts have become Minerva's center of concentration; tongues and hands started licking, sucking, rubbing, and brushing them. She writhed in the sweetest torture and had bitten her lower lip in an effort to stop the full scream wanting to tear out of her throat, which made her shake almost violently in awakening.
At an uncertain point, Hermione dragged her eyes open and almost came at the sight of Minerva McGonagall in rapture as the woman feasted on her breast. Vaguely she realised that she had grabbed one of Minerva's pale hands and unsurely pushed it down her tummy and subsequently parted her legs. When the woman palmed her, she could not help the ragged breath she expelled and the lurched of her hips upward.
Then she heard a chuckle from Minerva whose lips traveled back into her neck up to her ear, and resumed sucking the skin behind it. Wet tongue also snaked insider her ear, almost mirroring the ministrations employed down at her bud. The torturous pace that the woman had set had begun picking up and Hermione could not help the clenching in her stomach and the grinding of her hips against Minerva's hand.
"Please—" Implored by Hermione in broken breaths. "Please – Minerva…"
Not roughly but assuredly, Minerva had thrust two fingers inside her and she stiffened at the pain from the first ever most intimate intrusion. Indeed, Hermione had just given her virginity to Minerva McGonagall.
Coming out from the abrupt ache is the consciousness that all movements have ceased, except for the rise and fall of their chests with heavy laboured breathing. Despite the fact that the experienced short pain is gone, and desire had returned especially with Minerva's fingers buried in her, a worrying notion had risen that she may have made a mistake of not telling the woman of her inexperience.
As brown ones opened to green ones, flashes of construed deceit with her failed forthcoming were quickly gathered, fought and set aside. Finding both her hands grasping Minerva's shoulders, she raised her lips to the woman and brushed them lightly, breathing the same certainty she gave at the beginning... "Yes, Minerva... Please..."
"Hermione…" Passionately whispered to her face in response in a very deep Scottish tone that only raised her desire to unknown degree…
With Minerva's smouldering emeralds wrapping her in affection, Hermione heard herself begged as the craving that had her in captive has started demanding gratification. Minerva returned to her lips, kissing her harder, deeper, with a fervent need that Hermione could feel down to her soul. Insistent mouth parted hers again, and then Minerva's tongue started making love to hers in equal passion to the movements of fingers that are driving her into ecstasy. It stole her breath away but then fuelled her every senses.
Then the most blinding light consumed her... Momentarily she felt suspended in the sensation... And finally fell into utter bliss. She breathed Minerva's name in exhalation and for a time, she could hear nothing else but the thundering of her pulse.
"Hermione, darling are you alright?" After a while, Minerva asked with heavy-laced tenderness. It made her finally open her whiskey coloured eyes to emeralds that are quite in conflict between elation and trepidation… "I could have been more gentle—"
"It was perfect." Hermione immediately understood the direction of the other woman's words; so she cut the growing misgivings instantly. "I'm more than alright, I feel perfect."
"Are you really—"
Again cutting the insecurity, she whispered in reverence, "How could I not be? Minerva, you just made love to me."
Minerva's eyes instantly burned more with affection. Hermione could not help but celebrate the marvellous response from the woman who had held her heart and soul… and now her body.
She threaded her fingers on lush raven hair, relishing on the silky texture that numerous times she had wondered about as they were always confined in a strict bun. She capped Minerva's nape to draw the woman close for a kiss. When their lips met once again, they elected to share incredibly slow sweet ones. One that seemed to go on forever...
Followed by equally long tender gazing at each other's face...
"You are so beautiful Mione."
Hermione felt pleasure from the praise, and likewise at the sound of her nickname from Minerva's lips. Only her best friends— Harry and Ron, ever use the familiarity and it had become somewhat deeply personal. No one else has… and now Minerva quite naturally used it. She let her face adore her signature Cheshire grin.
"Thank you."
She is not one to practice false modesty; around fourth or fifth year, she knew she started outgrowing her adolescence's physical oddities. Though far from interested, she was not oblivious that fellow students at Hogwarts have started noticing how nature began transforming her into a relatively good-looking girl. She was just really more preoccupied about many things and her appearance was not on her list of import. Of course it wasn't. Especially that she had been hard at work in figuring out (or denying) why she found no one attractive but one transfiguration professor.
"But far compared to you." Hermione added in all honesty after she placed another soft kiss on thin lips. Unsurprisingly, she got an immediate dismissal from the emerald-eyed witch. So she insisted, "I am accurate on this Minerva."
"And you do need spectacles." teasingly, Minerva responded and kissed her again. The woman shifted on her side, taking out her weight completely, but drew Hermione as well so they are still facing each other, and their bodies still touching.
"My eyesight is fine, I don't need glasses. But you, do you even need yours? You are an animagus, does it not cancel the flaw?" answered Hermione in equal teasing and curiosity as she tried to gestured towards the item she knew placed on the bedside table with the older woman's wand. "And lets say you do; why do you need to choose the most serious looking ones?"
"Hah, next time we're on Diagon Alley, lets see if I would be inclined to let you choose my next spectacles."
Hermione tried but failed to ignore the leapt of her heart at a picture of spending a casual shopping trip at Diagon alley with Minerva. As her girlfriend? She could not really let herself go further than the current moment. She returned to the here and now, and to the conversation at hand.
She focused on such beautiful face in front of her and could not help but marvelled more. "You really have no idea how intensely beautiful you are?"
"I am close to 7 decades, how—"
"No, no. I know you know. And I think you know that your age matters little."
"This topic matters little."
"I agree, because you are so much more than that. But let me just say this." Hermione pressed her lips to Minerva's, effectively cut the protest about to be verbalized, before she continued.
"You think no one had noticed because of your severe bun, your plain thick robes and always in your formal self, with your perpetual stern countenance. Plus, Dumbledore being himself helped you a lot as he had easily provided you with one big diversion…"
Minerva at this point had snuggled under her chin and she paused for a moment to gauge if she had over-assumed in her declarations. Or perhaps put the woman in her arms ill at ease. Or that she committed a lapse by mentioning the dead wizard. But when she felt Minerva's lips and fingers, nuzzling and skimming around her throat, she knew it was okay to continue and so she did, and ignored the distraction.
"You may be the only witch who uses de-glamouring charms and I wonder if even Flitwick could detect them as you have obviously well placed them on yourself day in and day out. But surely you know that sans them…" Hermione wanted to say just like now but refrained for reason she was not sure.
"…That sans them, you would definitely look like a woman who is not even in forties. But given your high regard on privacy—"
Unknowingly, Hermione paused again, as her thoughts connected the details and produced a conclusive depiction. She easily comprehended the reasoning that that the woman would rather deal de-glamourising herself repetitively than deal with repetitive unnecessary attention.
She thought of what she had learnt about Minerva tonight - of information that can't be found on the circulated books. And those that were written of her accolades, especially war related matters were all short of critical details that would undoubtedly hail the witch. And how the said witch is obviously content with the lack of applaud.
The knowledge only led her into understanding that much more is to be accounted. And that the over-ridding characteristic of the woman is private… reserved… but undeniably brilliant… The play on appearance is one of her tactic, a smart one to be inconspicuous. And such is truly consistent with Minerva's nature.
Hermione heard a mumble and it took her few seconds to work out what Minerva had said, which was 'Your brilliance frightens me…'
"Never..." Replied Hermione chuckling and dropped a sounding kiss on Minerva's crown.
"You do." Retorted Minerva smiling as she lifted her head. Then she trailed her lips on Hermione's jawline in light kisses up to her ear.
"I do not really—"
Hermione forgot the rest of her sentence when Minerva started nibbling her earlobe again. "Mmmm…. My god Minerva… You…you are distracting me…"
"Yes." Rich Scottish chuckles vibrated and sent Hermione into fresh episode of arousal, especially when warm wet tongue began its ministrations on her lobes. "And you like it… like me licking this." Hermione lost thoughts all together on the conversation they were having and surrendered to the pleasure.
Once again, Hermione moved on top of Minerva as they kissed and kissed. Heat coursed around them as they passionately held each other.
With feline grace, Minerva slightly parted her legs underneath and in between Hermione's… and maneuvered their most intimate parts to be in contact.
"Minerva…" Hermione cried at the never before felt sensation.
Instinctively, she wrapped her left arm around Minerva's exquisite neck while her right arm fell to the mattress to help support her weight. While she felt Minerva's own arms snaked around her back; one secured her waist and the other settled on her rear.
With her mouth just on Minerva's clavicle, Hermione breathed deeply, struggling to not thrust away at the unbelievable warmth of their connection. She wanted to revel in the moment of being in such position with Minerva. But her body demanded. It moved to increase pleasure but Minerva had other plans and stilled her movement. Nevertheless, the action and the contact had caused Hermione a shot of tremor. The deliciousness of it began swirling around her.
"Darling, look at me". She heard Minerva's strained voice calling for her absolute attention. So she gathered her control and raised her passion-laded eyes to accede. Her breath caught at seeing glassy emerald eyes, apparently laden with as much desire, and also saw the slightest indecision. But she quickly understood the woman, like they have been communicating all their lives; Minerva is somewhat asking for her permission… Again wanted to ensure that she wants it without a doubt.
"Please Minerva…" She repeated her earlier words. Green eyes peered deeper into hers for re-affirmation, and of course the woman found it as Hermione held her gaze as intensely.
Minerva leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on her lips but still had their lower bodies locked in motionless. Hermione willed her body to not pounce away and relented to the older woman's direction.
But she buried her head on Minerva's neck and shoulder, took another deep breath in attempt to regulate her throbbing, and then said in a surprisingly very low voice, "I'm going to hex you if we don't move NOW."
She felt the rumble more than heard the older woman's short laugh. She was about to give her indignant objection when it got lost in her throat and was replaced with a loud moan. Minerva's grip on her waist and rear loosened, and started guiding her into moving.
The physical intimacy overwhelmed Hermione and she knew that it was also emotionally binding her to the woman; one that would last her entire life. And she could bet that it will continue in the next life, and the next after the next...
Though it already seemed impossible for air to pass between their bodies, Hermione's desire to get closer is unrelenting so she pressed for more as they move. But Minerva had insisted on dictating their tempo and the pressure… And such are quite maddening to Hermione…
Minerva set soft, slow, and long sliding movements. Every time Hermione increased the speed, Minerva would press her firmly and halt their thrusting. It was torturous but delicious, and made her body quivering in sporadic thrill.
Hermione dragged open her eyes that had shut when they first started rocking. She found emerald ones watching her face with magnified tender look. She was stunned with the intense emotion fixed at her and it drove her pulse into unknown latitude.
It also propelled her to implore the woman, "Please— please Minerva." She repeated once again her earlier words. However, this time they were not about assurance, but really to beg Minerva for the release.
She begged like she will not catch her next breath.
She begged like she rather not breathe if her lungs will not be filled with Minerva.
Minerva's hands freed her waist and rear and snaked them around her neck. "As you please darling." The witch whispered to her in strong burr as the reins were handed to her.
Hermione's hands moved to anchor on each of their sides. And finally switched to that damning tempo her body had demanded. She moved on top of the woman like she had been making love to the woman all her life. And so it wasn't too long when she felt herself dripping... She knew she was moaning and racing after that exquisite feeling, and after sometime, that blinding light exploded and consumed her.
Her body was still convulsing in climax when Minerva rolled her back into the mattress and mounted on top of her. Her hands were seized by Minerva, clasped theirs together, and had them stretched above their heads.
As Minerva took over their movements, the recently satiated ache in her core shot to ascension once again.
In contrast to Minerva's earlier controlled ministrations, now the urgency is too pronounced as their hips rocked, rolled and slid with each other…
Desperate for that sweet release and with every intention to bring Minerva over the edge with her, she parted her legs wider and hooked them over long ones of the other witch. Then they met each other's thrust with equal passion.
For Hermione, the rest of the world vanished once more except the woman in her arms… The witch she's making love to… The same one making love to her.
Then she felt Minerva tremble on top of her... Waves of pleasure coursed through the woman, spreading down to her… Breathlessly called her name and it was more than enough for her body to follow the woman into rapture…
And uttered back Minerva's name…
End of Chapter 7 | The Very First One
A/N:
-Life's duties and responsibilities got in the way and caused the delay for this chapter :)
-And truthfully, I also had a hard time writing the love-scene, going back and forth with how to pen them.
-Once again, HP is not mine but just borrowing from JK and spinning into my liking.