Consequences of Falling

Ch. 5

Of course, Rolanda had known that her dear friend would be furious with the fact that they had wandered off as they had, drunken and silly, without much care for decorum. It wasn't the point to make the ebony haired witch jealous, although that was certainly the response she received when Minerva cornered her in her own private quarters the following afternoon. The woman didn't have to say it, she could see it plain as day, which caused the conclusion to be drawn that, even still, there was some emotion still felt there.

"Oh, calm yourself... I was saving you, you daft cow." She said, exasperation clearly writ upon her face. For the better part of thirty minutes the Headmistress had made no attempt at letting up, choosing to storm about and throw off scathing glances. It wasn't until Rolanda finally spoke that the other woman stopped her pacing.

"Saving me? From what, exactly, I may ask? Ridiculousness..." As though Minerva couldn't tell. The sober, pointed, gaze of her friend caused a grim line to form upon her lips.

"You could see as well as I could that Hermione has hardly warmed to you.."

"And whose fault is that... You should have let me go." The Headmistress seethed. Rolanda shook her head at the woman. Folding her arms over her chest, she relaxed back into her seat, affixing a determined look about face.

"It will take time, I know you... You would have said something and then, what? We would have been one professor down. At least, with me, there was no chance of that." She didn't want to admit that Rolanda could potentially have been right, but who was to say? Of course, she would want to ensure that the playing field was even, that her staff and she was on the same page, that turbulence wouldn't be a factor. There was no telling what would come of it if that were the case. Soothing her frazzled nerves, Minerva permitted a sigh and just placed her hands on her hips, aiming a glance out the window.

"She could hardly..."

"Look at you? I'm aware." Perhaps not obvious to all, but certainly to the woman who had some inside scoop on the matter. She watched Minerva raise a hand and pinch the bridge of her nose.

"What am I going to do?" The answer wasn't complex, hidden, or unusual. It was simple, really. Rolanda knew it and she knew it. Time; she had to give it time.

"Whatever happens, happens. I will not be a go between for you... So don't request it. Just let it happen organically, and don't push it. Keep it professional." Despite better judgement, the ebony haired woman relented, gave a short nod, and turned to leave the woman in peace. Worn out and decided, she did, however, linger in the doorway a moment longer.

"Will you keep an eye out?"

"You know I will."

This sated the Headmistress, so she took her leave. No comfort was awarded but a direction to drift did present itself and she took it. There was nothing left to lose. She would let the young be.

.-*HGMM*-.

Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and before Hermione could realize it a month had passed. Tirelessly, she worked for the Ministry and often stuck to her rooms, rifling through parchments and scrawls while also forming her lesson plans. It didn't take very long once the paperwork had been documented and signed for the woman to accept that this was her chosen path now. It did offer security and the promise of new scenery, new trials obstacles to overcome, and since some things would never change... She did find some joy in the thought. Meals we joined for the most part, though was often quiet and brought work with her, whether it be reading or a notebook to scribble in as thoughts formulated. She barely seemed to take a break from toiling. Again, not unusual, and most certainly in her nature.

Early that particular morning, she woke and rose from bed to pull on a fitted pair of leggings and a sports bra, tugging over head a tank top for further comfort. As requested, left upon her table on entering her living quarters, a mug of black coffee and some toast sat in waiting. She grabbed a piece of toasted, buttered, bread and bit down, holding it with her mouth, as she grabbed a towel and ventured out into the corridor beyond, chewing while she made her way down to the grounds to fit in a quick work out.

The sun was only just rising and the air was cool, the perfect temperature to ensure the faint breeze would catch the perspiration beaded upon her neck, chest, and shoulders when she strolled later to return for a quick shower then proper breakfast. With a routine being set firmly in place, her unease was slowly beginning to subside and structure was taking place of the uncomfortable abnormality she found herself leaning into upon her return to Hogwarts. For those days Minerva seemed to distance herself, give her room to breathe, allowing her to do as she pleased without comment. In another life, Hermione would have begged for the attention she knew the women was easy to pay. She would have bathed in it. But, as it would be, she was capable of avoiding the woman. And so she did.

Crossing the grounds, the brunette was unaware of the gaze following not to close behind, she didn't notice the agile grey spot silently zig-zaging towards the offered cover of rock or brush. It had been one of many mornings that Minerva had taken to the grounds when sleep evaded to chase after an unsuspecting mouse, pouncing and ridding her mind of unwanted thought. That was until ears perked toward the noise of footsteps upon the grass, the vibration felt beneath paws, to peek from Hagrid's garden to see the younger witch retreating toward the Quidditch Pitch. Naturally, she grew curious.

Closing in and focusing on the woman, Minerva couldn't help but take in the sight as she ducked through an opening at the bottom of wooden wall, just to creep out around a beam and peek at the woman stretching on the well manicured grass. As Hermione loosened up for her run, the older woman heard a faint knocking and rustling, she hid further behind a grouping of brooms just as one particular flying instructor jogged passed and out onto the field.

"Good morning!" The woman called out and Hermione affixed a faint smile, pulling her leg behind at the ankle and balancing upon one with ease.

"Rolanda, good morning." Minerva was somewhat speechless as the women began to chat about nothing in particular, their evenings and studies, while preparing themselves for what appeared to be a ritual of some sort. They had clearly bonded over a well maintained work out schedule... Even began to include one and other in their individual routines. She was amazed at the connection made, but not nearly as amazed to note how fit her newest professor had come to be.

She couldn't remember Hermione ever taking to sports or fitness. The woman had been a bookworm through and through. Although she had to assume working in the field for the Minister would require a level of activity, she did not ever expect to see that, though Hermione did maintain some curves, her stomach, legs, arms, and shoulders had grown quite defined. At least, from what she could discern beneath the tight tank and leggings. Her shoulders had broadened a bit, filled out, and the softness... It was almost minimal. Just a bit.

As she watched the women psych themselves up and break off into a racing sprint, she had to turn her back on the scene. She'd done enough eavesdropping and snooping, now she wanted to return to her tea and think about what it was she had witnessed. Rolanda was doing as asked, she kept an eye on the woman, was a friend, that was good enough.

.-*HGMM*-.

"Slow down, Granger!" Rolanda puffed and leaned back as she halted, her flushed face betraying the obvious discomfort of a cramp. The brunette slowed and jogged in place, her heart racing but in that comforting way it often did when adrenaline pumped through veins. They must have been going at it for an hour or so, each gaining on the other, shouting jabs and praise, egging the other to keep up and carry on.

"Come on, Hooch... That's all you got?" Grumbling and puffing, Rolanda waved at her in mild irritation at being bested, making no move to continue whatsoever, rather she dropped back to sit on the grass and laid back on the cool earth, letting that sooth her throbbing muscles.

"You win! You are Queen of the Pitch... So fuck off and let me relax." A deep chuckle rose in Hermione's chest and she let herself cool down, pacing slowly to allow her legs to grow used to just strolling rather than sprinting at full speed at great lengths.

"You did good, maybe Thursday you'll keep up." She chided airily and relished in the sound of hearing the older woman groan in defeat. It had taken a week for the women to discover one and other sneaking down to the pitch in the early hours, to talk about their activities and to run together. As Hermione had isolated herself quite well in the past, using the remnants of rage to fuel her work outs, she couldn't help but notice the differences between that and running alongside this woman. It felt nicer. To have someone there to push her further, to talk to. Someone. The flying instructor kept things light and manageable. She didn't pry into Hermione's life so deeply that made the woman want to lash out and seek silence, she was just there. An unlikely duo, to be sure. But for some reason it felt right. Comfortable. Lifting off the grass and into a seated position, Rolanda raised a hand for her to grasp.

"Give me a lift, will you?" Without hesitation Hermione drew near and reached, pulling the woman up to her feet and eyeing her with some bit of mischief.

"We should get ready for breakfast, come on, Hooch." Never before compelled to, Hermione flung her arm casually about the woman's shoulders and steered her toward their things for collection. It was a brief contact, but one that struck Rolanda. An uncertainty crossed tanned features, marring the slight curl of a smile that would have done just fine on its own. And Rolanda began to realize that contact wasn't customary for the young woman. Hermione must have sensed these silent musings and acted upon instinct, the young woman, once loosened, buckled and threw up an air of stoic defence, falling silent.

"You seem rather nipped, witch." The grey haired woman ventured nonchalantly as the pair strolled toward the castle. Hermione remained quiet, a warring of thought battling within the confines of her skull. Why had she done it? Been inclined to be close even just for that moment. She knew better... Then again, since her arrival her closest contact had been this woman. It was difficult to discuss when didn't have discussions any longer about feeling, friendship, or prospect. What to reveal and when to reveal it... She abhorred the undecided nature of it.

"I don't do this often." Her tone lacked strength and melody, falling flat, and gaze trained itself along the path ahead. Feeling those golden eyes scan the side of her face, she schooled her features into a look more neutral. Nothing, however, could ever mask the discomfort. It was a look that Rolanda was growing accustomed to seeing, though it didn't make her feel any less sorry for the woman. Not that she would ever say. It became ever more obvious just how deep the rabbit hole truly ran.

"You know, people here... Your colleagues, we can be decent people," She ventured to say while following the younger woman's gaze. "We aren't perfect, we do not always get along, but we are a team here. You can allow yourself a bit of freedom."

"No... I think not." Hermione sighed after a moments pause as the pair ascended the stairs and raised wands to part those large wooden doors. These few words stumped her company, not exactly the response she had been anticipating.

"You think not?" She asked evenly and with the lift of a brow, hand reaching to halt the woman that moment before she appeared to be turning to stroll without further notice to her own set of rooms. Hermione immediately stopped and looked down at the hand curled loosely about her arm, eyes raising swiftly to shoot an unreadable glance at the woman.

"I enjoy my peace and my quiet, my work," The syllables formed upon lips without pausing, chocolate eyes darkening as she addressed the woman and slowly removed her arm from grasp. "I work alone, far less messy... Far less complicated. If you'll excuse me." Before Rolanda could say another word, the woman was already striding off to avoid further questioning. The elder witch couldn't help but to think she'd set the other woman back... Got too close, too quickly.

"Damn it..." She muttered under her breath, chastising herself for not letting things lie as they were. The young professor was delicate, so delicate, it was like defusing a bomb. Patience was a virtue... She would give her some space.

.-*HGMM*-.

Who was she trying to fool here...

What was she doing?

Hermione was livid and she couldn't quite grasp why.

The water ran over her shoulders and back, scalding her skin, she let it. The heat only seemed to make matters worse as a bubbling rage settled deep in the pit of her stomach. Admitting to herself that the hate fuelled front she'd managed to convey was unnecessary at all times was the hardest part when, still, she couldn't manage to allow herself that bit of slack. Something had to give. Rolanda was there, aiding, and Hermione was just... Stuck.

It hadn't always been this way. It hadn't always been difficult. Letting someone, anyone, closer than the topical was a trial. All due to that damned fucking woman... The memory hit her like a flash.

"Boys! Stop!" Laughter through words caused the pair of arm wrestling men to aim glances in her direction. Seamus took that as distraction and slammed Ronald's hand down against the flat of table, immediately releasing to throw his arms in the air.

"Finnigan is victorious!"

"You cheated!" The ginger shouted as he rubbed the back of his hand, tossing a glare at the brunette who was trying mightily to stifle her giggles. It was, in fact, her intention to spark a bit of a scene, causing one or the other to end their duel.

It almost felt like the golden days, before the wreckage of war, though the knowing it had transpired would always still play upon their minds in dreams and thought.

"We need to finish this." Hermione gleefully pointed out to the disappointment of her working partners. Despite the lack of enthusiasm, they did resume. She had always taken the lead, checked over assignments for her friends, and made sure they got a decent grade. More than anything, she loved the closeness. Though Ron had definitely made advances in more than one occasion, after a slightly less comfortable conversation, they managed to remain close friends. It had initially caused pain to know her family was still in Australia, well under the effects of the memory charm she'd put in place, but that didn't erase the fact that she had family here. She was never truly alone. Life had returned to some normalcy in those two months. With Christmas quickly approaching and an invitation to spend it at the Burrow, Hermione was thrilled. The only discomfort then was the simplest of facts that arose to be sensations felt when in the presence of a certain professor.

'Speak of the devil' She thought as she lifted her head to notice the woman entering into the study hall, her emerald eyes scanning for something in particular. When gaze met gaze, the woman made her way past groups of chattering students and reached to touch her shoulder gently upon arrival, a touch which sent a jolt of electricity through the woman who peered up to catch her eye.

"Miss. Granger, might I inquire after your assistance after dinner? I do have the last bit of catologuing to be finished and it may be well in our interest to get it sorted, finally, this evening." Her professor gave vague nods to her fellow Gryffindor's but ultimately settled her gaze upon the witch, her features relaxed.

"Of course, Professor... I'd be glad to."

"Thank you, Miss. Granger. Feel free to join me once you're ready after dinner, you know the way." And with that the woman carried on, emerald robes bellowing behind.

"Sheesh, she's had you doin' that stuff since start of term... It's ridiculous." Ron mumbled as he looked up from his parchment, eyeing his friend across the way with a mildy irritating expression on her behalf.

"A lot was destroyed during the battle, the Ministry needs to know what was lost." Hermione stated as she turned her attention back upon the work. "It would have taken triple the time if I wasn't helping... And she's got enough on her plate already."

"All part of bein' McGonagall's special favourite." Seamus mused, half paying attention, as he continued on writing and cross referencing his text book. "Just glad it's not me." A thought that Ron clearly found agreeable as they nodded and returned back to finishing their history assignment. Hermione could have cared less. She enjoyed the work, enjoyed spending time with the woman, and how easy it was to pass the time talking to her on equal footing, far from prying eyes and opinions. It was no secret that she was, really, the favourite. And never once did it bother her.

The day drew on and, once classes and dinner had concluded for the day, she bid Harry, Ginny, and Ron farewell for the night and ventured through the castle to seek out her adored mentor. Treading lightly, she reached the woman's door promptly and knocked, waiting, and adorning herself with an expression reading that she wasn't as overly eager as inwardly felt.

"You may enter!" She heard the Scottish woman call from within before reaching to turn the handle and tuck herself inside. The Professor rose to greet her younger company and gestured her over with a hand, her gaze bore signs of a quiet thank you for the willingness to aid in the taxing task.

"We have these three piles left to sort, number, and organize... Then we are finished, Miss. Granger." Hermione nodded and began to leaf through pages.

"Let's get started, then."

The history of Hogwarts had always intrigued the witch. So, it didn't have to be told, that when given the opportunity to learn more, she was always up for the challenge. It was hard, however, to see the clear disdain written upon Minerva's features that told of the gravity of the situation; much had been destroyed, priceless items and articles, especially since the Room of Requirement had been positively ruined. As luck would have it, it was Friday. So it truly didn't matter how many hours into the night they worked. Once it was done, it would be done. Then both could slip into bed in comfort knowing that the information was complete and no obligations would further impede upon their schedules above that of the typical day to day.

Closely they floated around one and other in near silence, only speaking when cross referencing with the other what was held in hand, until the very last of it was numbered according, sorted, and lain to complete the massive volume of text to be sent off to the Ministry for documentation. Hermione found herself loosening her tie and drawing the thin slip of fabric from beneath collar, unbuttoning the top button of her uniform, and tossing the tie to lay upon the sweater she'd discarded what felt like an age ago.

"That's the last piece..." She heard Minerva softly utter from behind, partially startling the girl to turn swiftly around, near tripping over herself in the process. Strong hands reached to take hold of the woman and redirect her, pulling her forward until steady, but Hermione couldn't help but tumble into the woman still and knock her back against the table. Her hands had found the professor's arms and clung to, her heart leaping into her throat at the feel of muscle beneath, and she swallowed her surprise when she found Minerva peering back at her with the same astonishment.

"Miss. Granger, I apologize..." Whether it be sleep deprivation or whatever addled her mind, Hermione didn't hesitate when she leaned in to press her lips against the woman wedged between her and that surface. For reasoning beyond what her brain could tolerate, she committed to it and found that her lips felt the gasp of the woman, that sharp intake only furthering the need to feel more.

Minerva hadn't the slightest what was playing within the young woman's mind, the least expected being... Whatever it was she was doing. A moment passed and, though the kiss was met with a slack mouth, initially, the woman felt compelled to return... Something. That was until her brain caught up. Tearing her mouth away and forcing the brunette harshly backward, taking a step from the table herself as she held her at arms length, Minerva stared at Hermione in outrage.

"What ARE you doing?" She thundered viciously, absolutely taken aback by what had transpired. She watched Hermione attempt at catching her breath, her fingers still twisted into the fabric clinging to her upper arms, shocked by the separation and the anger crackling within green eyes. There was no going back now...

"You have to know... You must have known." Hermione felt that, that moment when Minerva nearly gave into it; the attraction. That had to mean something after all they had been through... The rise and fall of her chest was mirrored by the ebony haired witch, both unsure, both reeling. Still, Hermione was the one to make the move.

With a strength and conviction she wasn't aware she even possessed, Hermione drove the woman back against the table grabbed her wrists, forcing her hands from her shoulders, as she claimed the woman's mouth and actually allowed herself to taste it. There was a fighting moment when Minerva, try as she might to shove the younger witch back again attempted, although this morphed into something else entirely as Hermione found the mouth beneath hers begin moving against, tasting, while wrists slipped from grasp to guide hands down around hips, tugging fiercely toward.

The sensation was felt everywhere, in places she had never thought could be accessed by another human being. While wild hands groped for any part to grip, ensuring no separation was to be had, one kiss became many, until Hermione found the tables turned as Minerva regained her strength. The green eyed witch swiftly switched their positioning, guiding the brunette against wood grain only to forcibly lift and seat her there, hips spreading knees, making the young woman whimper with the shock wave of pleasure such an act evoked.

She trusted Minerva... She felt safe in her arms, she felt passion, and knew that whatever course taken would be the best possible choice. The ebony haired woman could do no wrong. Hermione wasn't aware of how much she truly loved the woman yet but she knew what she felt then and there was incredibly deep, overpowering, and sincere. Which is why when she felt fingers trace along her thigh and slip beneath that thin fabric, she allowed them to seek entry where no one had before; as deep in her as they could get.

Curled in the corner of her bathtub, the scarred woman wept and let her tears be carried away down the drain by snakes of water. That first time had been just the start of what she thought was going to become a lifetime of mutual affection. Had she known then what she knew now, she'd have never taken that chance. It was a trial just to manage through mere conversation... Never mind allow friendship to blossom... Love? How? She couldn't help but feel that Minerva was winning. And she let her time and time again.

After what felt like an hour, she summoned the strength to get up off the floor and dry herself, fix her hair, and dress. A knock at the door interrupted the process.

"Come in!" She called miserably, buttoning the last few buttons of her white blouse as she heard the door open and close. She didn't look up from the task her fingers were tending to until they were finished, only to find a flash of green eyes staring from across the room when her gaze lifted. "What are you doing here..."

TBC...