Consequences of Falling

Ch. 15

Into Hermione's quarters the pair entered, the heavy wooden door closing softly behind. Rolanda had yet to see it in a status of relative order, having only been by a couple of times, so the fact that, now, it appeared as though the woman was trying to settle in, caused her to hum in surprise.

"You've decorated." She stated as she began to inspect the newly changed rooms. The younger woman made her way into her small kitchenette to put on the kettle, her head peeking out slightly to address the statement made.

"Yeah, I figured since I had no plans on leaving anytime soon, I might as well try to do something with it." Then she disappeared behind the partition to set up a couple of mugs, leaving the other woman to peruse as she wished.

No surprise that books filled the shelves, covering various topics from potions to history, a few of her old school text books among them for nostalgia, she imagined. Hermione would always be considered a bookworm in her eyes. She could still remember seeing the bushy haired young lady meandering the halls and the Great Hall hidden behind the spine of some volume more often than not. Pictures and little things, interesting looking little things, where strategically scattered about and caught her eye. Standing there, her gaze fell upon an image in a plain wooden frame of a pair of women laughing but, clearly, trying not to cause a scene in a parlor booth. The setting around them was familiar and Rolanda recognized it to be The Three Broomsticks. Between the giggles and drinking of whiskey, the pair didn't look anywhere but at one another, completely ignoring other patrons.

Moving on, the flying instructor wandered around the couch and toward the fireplace mantle where more pictures stood. She eyed each of them for a moment, pausing once again in front of one that gripped her attention more than the others - in which, the pair of women stood in front of a little cottage, vines creeping up the front, a large picture window… Flower beds like a colorful carpet of foliage curling around the corner of the humble home. The women held each other, the blond tucked against the younger looking professor, gazing with infinite adoration at the side of her face. It must have been some time before Hermione's face adopted her scars because they were not present there on her visage. She just stood, holding the other woman, peering closed lipped and proudly on at the camera while kisses were pressed to her cheek, causing a flush.

"We just bought the property the week before that was taken," A voice beside her made the silver haired woman jump a little, evidently she hadn't heard the kettle boil or the womans feet against the floor. "We were so proud of it, having a home of our own… We'd spent so many months traveling from Inn to Inn." She sounded detached. Handing over the steaming mug, Rolanda took it from her, then watched as Hermione just slipped away to leave her to investigate while she chose a spot on the couch. The woman didn't linger in front of the portrait, rather she joined her young friend on the leather sofa.

"I'm sorry that I didn't owl you while I was away." She said, lifting the offered mug to her lips. Hermione dismissed her with a casual wave of the hand.

"Now that I have a bit of a better idea, I understand why you didn't. You were dealing with enough." Replied Hermione, her hand falling to rest on Rolanda's leg briefly, giving it a squeeze, before lifting it back to wrap with her other around her own mug. "Do you want to talk about it?"

An arch of the brow was what she was met with. For a moment, the silver haired woman looked her over, thoughtful. Hermione didn't often see this particular brand of inspection aimed from this source. She, too, looked back at her friend with silent inquiry.

"I'd rather not, quite frankly… Perhaps when I've had a minute to settle," She responded after that short pause, her gaze turning to the steaming liquid. "I'd like a distraction though - how have you been doing?"

"Better, I think," Dropping her sights to the edge of her cup, her thumb drawing the line of its rim, she could understand more than anyone when and why distractions were needed; she could supply this. "I went to Molly and Arthur's for tea last week."

"Did you?" Suddenly quite interested, Rolanda relaxed against the back of the couch and lifted a leg to cross over her other, leaning slightly toward Hermione as she addressed her. The other woman gave a short nod, and returned her attention to her company.

"It was… Cathartic, in a way. I was half expecting it to be unbearable, but it wasn't as awful as I thought I would find it." She went on to say, admitting aloud the fact that she was able to take those few baby steps forward.

"Didn't see that coming." Her friend admitted quietly, just as she raised her tea to take another sip. Who did, really? Hermione's features briefly displayed a look as though to say You're telling me. Neither of them suspected that she would be willing to make any move. But it happened - now it was onward from that.

"People seem to think I'm unruly beyond all else, but, really, I'm not entirely unreasonable… After seeing Ronald, having someone like you to rely on, visiting Molly… Coming here, even…" Hermione paused, chewing on the inside corner of her mouth for a second, her mind abuzz with generated thoughts. Rolanda just listened, watched, intrigued. Hermione's tone was softening, shreds of her last remnants of humanity beginning to shine through. "I'm not a stupid woman, it's taken a long time to discover my limit… But I'm starting to see how strictly I've limited myself."

It had taken weeks to get to a point where speaking to the troubled young woman didn't feel like a teetering raft on rapids - one false move and the entire voyage could end in being dragged by the undertow. It was such a drastic turn around that Rolanda couldn't help herself but to just stare on at the brunette with a mild look of wonderment.

When a silence fell over the interaction and the eyes opposite her own began to appear vacant, as though the golden orbs were peering straight through her to the empty space behind, Hermione began to feel self conscious. Firstly, she had become incredibly privy to the fact that she was at such a point of exhaustion, in all forms, that she had grown exceedingly more sensitive - and, secondly, her friend had gone through something quite awful to have had to go through. She couldn't tell if the flying instructor was currently in a state of emotional interference due to the loss she was grieving, or if she was attempting to withhold judgement and failing. Mere seconds felt like an age.

The silver haired woman seemed to catch herself.

"Have you spoken to Minerva?" She asked abruptly, seemingly coming back to life. Hermione relaxed, minutely - incredibly thankful for the end to the quiet.

"Spoken to her? Are you mad?" Was the reply Rolanda received, along with a small shake of the head and a soft chuckle. "Merlin, no… I highly doubt she wants to sit across from me after the strips I've torn off her the past, nearly two, months." Giving credit where credit was due, Hermione soon realized that she had given over to the much darker side of herself. Did she regret all of it? No, not in the sense that one probably should. Rather, she owned this. Or, at least, was trying to.

"Are you planning to?" Furthered her friend, her friend whose head was beginning to tilt as the woman appraised her much more closely. Hermione paused.

She had thought about it. There was the potential for it. Filius had really gotten into her head with their last little back and forth, although the idea wasn't exactly enticing. The very thought of speaking to the woman still pissed her off to the high heavens. She hadn't gained much control over that yet. One step at a time.

"Maybe, not now though," She replied after a moment or two, her smooth tone garnering a slightly raised chin from her company. "I want to make sure I'm in control before I go ahead and put myself in close quarters with the one person who I'd love to jinx on the best of days." This small piece of information caused Rolanda to smirk as she placed her emptied mug on the coffee table.

"Jinx, hmm?" Her eyes flashed with only an ounce of humor. Hermione feigned some exasperation.

"You have no fucking idea." She muttered quietly.

"Why do you want her to feel so damn badly, I'm still trying to understand, after all this time, why someone as smart as you still cares so deeply over a person, I have to assume, you wouldn't consider worth it. Why do you let her have such an effect?" It was a question Hermione was surprised to be asked. And, frankly, one she had asked herself multiple times over the years. The truth was obvious, even to her, however, she would never admit to it. Not now, not ever, and not to anyone. Although, there in lie a secondary truth; A quite inconvenient truth that was petty and altogether horrible which she could admit, at long last, since Rolanda cared to ask. Hermione gave her a rather pointed glance, masking the bit of shame with a bit of calculation.

"I thought it would be rather clear why," She began before mirroring Rolanda and crossing her leg, her hands still curled around her mug in her lap. "If Minerva had thwarted me properly, if she had never allowed for me to believe that we had a fighting chance, if she had never caused me such heartbreak… Amelia would probably still be alive."

The woman beside her blinked a few times and Hermione could see the confusion in her eyes. Confusion quickly was replaced by horror, as the weight of Hermione's words hit her squarely. All the while, the brunette sat there, peering back, with a blank slate expression.

"You've got to be joking…"

"No, nope… Definitely am quite serious, and, I know, I realize how horrible it sounds said out loud but I do, partially, blame Minerva - for if she had just… Stopped me, properly stopped it at the very beginning, I could have nursed my feelings, maybe just settled down with a man… Ronald, most likely, and then I would have never forced myself down the road less travelled by any decent person," Hermione further explained, her tone turning crisp to depict her sincerity. "I would have never been paired up with her, I probably would have never been in the field to begin with, I might have taken up a desk job, I would have never met Amelia, and, for all I know, she'd still be alive somewhere. I would have never known who she was."

The young woman rose from her place on the couch after a moments pause, picking up Rolanda's cup and taking it with her to the kitchen. She left her friend sitting there, absolutely flummoxed, on the couch, speechless. Standing at the kitchen counter, she turned on the tap and started cleaning the mugs. It didn't take long for her space to be invaded.

"She had nothing to do with the death of your friend." Rolanda's voice was raised, enough for Hermione to take into account that she might of been angry with the information she was just passed; information she had asked for.

'I know." She replied simply, her back turned upon the woman who stood near and behind, as she continued to wash the two mugs, taking her time.

"The fact that you could entertain such a thought is positively ridiculous, and you know it." She heard the flying instructor continue, the heat playing on her tongue.

"Again, I never said that what I feel is right… I only admitted to feeling it." The brunette returned, coolly. The temperature rose in her cheeks despite the chill in her throat, it had been some time since she had been collected while another was coming undone. The interaction was testing her, even if Rolanda wasn't aware.

There was silence.

Hermione only heard the sound of feet carrying a body away and then the sound of her door open and close, announcing that Rolanda and left. Once the door was closed and Hermione was alone, she turned off the tap and placed both hands on the edge of the counter, hanging her head. A deep sigh parted her lips and she let herself have that moment.

What her friend had to know was that love, and losing love, made people think, feel, and do a great many things. Not always rational. Not always right. In Rolanda's heart, Hermione knew that she did know this to be the case. In this matter, however, she imagined that it was hard to wrap her head around. Minerva was still her closest friend, as well. Which made it worse. Still, she was honest with her feelings. She admitted them to someone other than herself, and, having said it - having thrown it out into the universe -, she realized how it made her feel… Worse. It made her feel worse. But, at the end of the day, she couldn't help but to think it is what it is; only time could tell if, or when, it was subject to change.

_~*MMHG*~_

A week remained. Only one. And in that time staff began to take notice that, once again, their youngest professor found herself at odds with another member of staff: Madame Hooch. Eight days had passed since Rolanda returned from her excursion to tend to her sister's affairs. The pair had been relatively chummy up until that point, jovial with one another, and now they hardly maintained eye contact. One less than the other. No one took more notice of this than Minerva. When privacy allowed, she broached her old friend on this point, although Rolanda remained relatively close lipped. She made excuses. She changed the subject. This only made Minerva more suspicious of the pair, as Rolanda always had something to say on almost anything one could name. Not in this instance.

When the air grew too uncomfortable to ignore, Minerva decided against her better judgement and decided to broach the topic with the other party instead. She fully anticipated that it would not go terribly well. No interaction up until that point had gone the way she had wished it to, until the point came where she chose not to try and force any matter at all. Then again, she had been the point of contention; the thorn in the young womans' side. It was a different story if Hermione had become a thorn for another member of staff. This she could not have.

This particular morning, Hermione didn't come to breakfast. Minerva slipped away from the table while the other members remained, eating, chatting, and reading their daily mail. She wandered off through the castle until the opportunity arose where she could consult the Marauder's Map. Scanning the enchanted parchment, she was quick to note where the young woman was - pacing, obviously so, in the library. The Scottish witch made off in that direction, collecting herself along the way and giving some order to her thoughts. Unfortunately, her timing was cut rather short to do, for as she arrived at the library and turned to enter in, the young woman was turning to leave. Both collided, leaving the Scottish witch to stumble back quickly to get away, knowing how inappropriate it would have been to cling to the brunette to steady herself. Without a question, or a thought, Hermione instinctively reached to regain her own balance, catching Minerva in her arms and drawing her forward with the realization that the woman was about to fall back onto the stone floor of the corridor by sheer act of stupidity. Caught entirely off-guard, and not having a second to digest, Hermione didn't have time to school herself, or even think of to do so, and addressed the woman in a moment of pure earnestness.

"For fuck sake, darling… What are you doing?" The ebony witch heard, the voice smooth, though concerned, close to her ear before corner of emerald eye caught corner of chocolate brown, their heads fractionally turning. "Are you alright?"

Minerva froze. They were close, incredibly close. So close, in fact, that she could note that the woman didn't, for once, smell of liquor and the occasional cigarette, but coffee and earthiness. She became quite aware of the fact that her hands were gripping Hermione's upper arms and that made her terribly conscious of their proximity. Hermione seemed to read this through the shock and horror on Minerva's face and stepped back and away, ridding the woman of her. Then, the bitterness returned.

"Forgive me, Headmistress." She said simply, quietly, then shifted to move passed the woman and continue on.

"I wanted to speak with you." Minerva's hand shot out and touched the younger womans' shoulder as she brushed passed. Beginning to re-collect from the brief surprise of their initial hello, she turned toward the retreating body, watching as the young woman immediately turned back toward her. Brown eyes gazed into her own questioningly.

"Well, do you feel steady enough to stroll without falling on your arse?" Hermione replied in an unreadable tone, somewhere mixed between placid and humor. The young woman again turned, strolling off, waiting for the woman to either decline and leave her be or fall in time with her steps. After a few moments, she found the taller, ebony haired woman did manage to fall in line with her, and they began to stroll around the castle.

Minerva wasn't sure where to begin, if there was a proper starting point. They were far from being friendly, although Hermione appeared to be carrying herself a bit less abrasive than she had been. This didn't mean, however, that the woman couldn't turn on a dime and aim to cut with a phrase. But it did make things a little less uncomfortable.

"I've noticed that you and Rolanda haven't exactly been seeing eye to eye as of late, I have tried talking to her about this but she doesn't seem to be interested in the topic." The Scottish woman began. The pair turned a corner and started taking stairs, the line of which they were travelling, where they were headed, a complete mystery to her. At once, she noticed Hermione's shoulders slump slightly.

"She's a bit upset with me over a few things I might have said."

"Might have said?"

"Did say." Corrected the young woman upon the addressing of her discrepancy. Her hand fell upon the stone rail as further they climbed. Unbeknownst to the Headmistress, Hermione's heart felt a tug toward the Astronomy Towers. A strange place for her to feel compelled to wander to. Still, she felt the need to feel the sun at the tallest point of the castle, and so there she wandered to when the books she had surrounded herself granted her no comfort at all. She felt Minerva's eyes gazing at the side of her face along the way, and for the first time in a long time, didn't feel like the glance was clawing marks.

"Rolanda doesn't get upset easily, we've been friends for many years… It's only ever been if something strikes a very deep chord that she will become… Almost petulant." Minerva stated after a moment or two, offering up that little bit of information for Hermione to do with as she pleased. Being that Minerva had quite a history with the silver haired woman, and that Hermione's was just beginning to be written, at the very least, a mindful heads up could have been helpful to return things to their proper state. Whatever that may have been.

"Either I will have to apologize or she will come to me, I imagine." Hermione responded, her voice maintaining the same relative smoothness. She wasn't being pointed or telling Minerva to fuckoff. Despite the fact that a little war in the back of Hermione's mind wanted very much so to do all of the above. Ron's words kept playing around amongst the demons saying 'Try. Try to get well'.

"You may have to take the reigns on this, I've played the game with her before and she has, more often than not, far outlasted me… She doesn't exactly seem the sort, but the woman can hold a grudge, perhaps, even better than we can." Reaching out on a limb, Minerva extended a few notes of humor. So minute that they could have been missed, had Hermione not been well versed in the voice. The women turned down another corridor from the stairs they had been climbing, Minerva keeping up in step, although Hermione was hardly at a quickened pace. She considered this for a few seconds, before glancing at the ebony haired witch.

"Even better, you say? Remarkable… I guess, I will have to take that into consideration." Hermione's tone matched Minerva's, a very light sprinkling of humor to mirror that which was offered. Although they may jest, for now, Hermione knew that the depth of the conversation that Rolanda and she would have to have could be… Explosive? Heated? Something other than this somewhat cordial discussion that was currently being shared. It was then that Minerva's hand found the crook of her arm, her inner elbow, and pulled ever so to slow the woman down, to stop her from continuing the walk. Although the fingers seared through the sleeve of her white cotton button up, Hermione didn't flinch away or make Minerva aware of the pain the contact was causing her. It was only all in her head.

"I have to ask, partly due to the friendship I share with Rolanda and partly due to being Headmaster at this school, why she has turned such a cold shoulder upon you and what has caused this?" Their eyes locked and Minerva unhanded the arm she had taken. The womans' expression was sincere in her line of questioning, she wasn't aiming to force the answers out of the woman in front of her, but she did, by obligation, have to inquire… Whether Hermione liked it or not.

The brunette swallowed the lump forming in her throat, willing herself to push her sensitivities aside as she was not prepared to unleash them upon the unsuspecting Headmistress standing in front of her. She maintained a controlled look about face and aimed a glance away from the woman's face and down the corridor.

"Do you think it's wise to have this conversation in a hallway, Minerva… Or do you think it would be wiser to find somewhere more private?" Hermione eluded to the fact that it wasn't wise. It was posed as a question, however, it was a cleverly wrapped statement to say we should go somewhere private. There were still staff members about and, although Minerva left them eating their breakfast, time had passed. There was no telling who they may bump into, where, and whether they wanted their personal information to be relayed elsewhere… Especially if, Merlin forbid, Sprout popped up out of nowhere, being the unforgiving gossip that she was.

"It sounds as though you already have an answer to this…"

"If you'll care to join me on the Astronomy tower, I can get the sun I was aiming for and I will give you some answers, despite the fact that I am well aware that you will not like them, and I'm telling you this in preparation. You have a choice, either you can leave it alone, or you can come with me." Hermione told her, her tone taking on a quality of matter-of-fact. She hadn't been planning on having any sort of discussion with the Scottish witch, but… Since she had been approached for a reason, and Hermione found herself actively working towards redefining herself as someone who wasn't the tortured creature wandering the halls, she might as well try slipping into that new skin. Even if it made her incredibly uncomfortable. She threw Minerva a bone.

Minerva didn't answer in the verbal sense, as she found her senses clouded by the statements previously made. She merely gestured for the woman to lead on, which the brunette did without moments pause, and followed closely behind. Concern rose in her chest as she folded over what the woman had so announced; you will not like them. It was best then that they did meet privately to discuss anything further, as it became relevant that she was part of the discussion. Of course, I am. The older woman thought to herself - being that she was the source of Hermione's greatest pain. How could it be anything but? A bitterness sat on her tongue as she prepared herself for a fight. Up until that point, despite the interaction being far less strained, there could be no doubt that what was about to transpire would test her will to keep it that way. Insecurity began to bubble beneath the skin.

The pair of women strolled in relative silence, winding down corridors until they reached their aim. Hermione led on, up the circular staircase until they reached the top, and the door that separated them from the outside. She paused for a second before gripping the door latch and pushing the heavy wooden door open, revealing the first glimpse of a sunny day. She held it open for the woman behind and closed it after Minerva stepped through, pulling her wand from a loop on her belt to lock and silence.

"Extra precautions?" The Headmistress asked, her voice crisp. Tense and well-expecting a clash, she fell guarded. Hermione heard the discomfort rising in the womans' voice. Of course, Minerva wouldn't consider it, not now, but it was for her own protection. If they were going to talk about anything pertaining to their previous dalliance, no one could know. Hermione was a well kept secret, very few knew, besides Rolanda, the portraits hanging in her office, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny. These people could be trusted. The ones who lived would take it to the grave. Minerva and Hermione knew that. Regardless, the brunette wasn't an entirely heartless bitch. She turned toward the Headmistress and holstered her wand, her eyes turning towards the bright sky to feel the warmth of sun rays play across her face.

"Minerva, if I'm going to talk to you about us, of course I'm going to ensure that no one can hear or is listening," Hermione stated, that pointedness returning to the voice rising in her throat. "I'm not without sense - a rumor, even now, could be catastrophic. I'll gladly remain a dirty little secret to deter you from garnering the harm that I've had to deal with." Despite the controlled demeanor, when Hermione met her gaze, she felt nothing but pain in her chest. The frequency that the young woman referred to herself in a manner so belittling, so reductive, it made Minerva nearly feel sick. Yet, even after all that time and all that had gone wrong, despite Hermione's anger, mistrust, and hurt… There she was attempting to offer some form of preservation. And verbalizing it. If she were being frank, it made her feel worse.

What had changed in the past month for Hermione to be standing there and speaking to her like a human being and not the beast who had made a young girl into a monster?

"You and Rolanda talked about us and that's what made her cross with you? Was she tired of hearing it?" It was a sincere question, although with a bit of an edge. Minerva couldn't deny that she abhorred knowing that she could be any part of their conversation. Hermione felt this and aimed her gaze at the woman, the woman whose arms had risen and folded across her chest.

"Not exactly." Hermione told her, stepping up to the Headmistress until there was but a foot of separation. She peered into emerald eyes and those peered back into her own, both swimming with a mix of emotions.

"What then?" Minerva asked, her voice lowering. Her skin felt alight and her arms across her chest was all that was holding her back from growing unruly.

"And this is the part where I can see where my faults lie, because, as much as I hate to admit it - especially to you - I do really feel… A very strong resentment for you not being able to have better control of me in my younger years," Hermione began, her hands coming to rest on her hips as her weight shifted onto a foot. She maintained eye contact with the Headmistress, and continued on while birds flew over head in a clear blue sky. "I confided in her that I, in part, blame you for the death of my girlfriend, by your utter lack of legitimately forcing me away."

Scottish rage was not quickly to be quelled by mere posture.

"How do you possibly think that me breaking your heart sooner would have caused you to act any different," The ebony haired woman, her voice piercing Hermione's ears with an unsettling anger. "If you've forgotten, allow me to remind you that I tried… I tried to break it off with you and you persisted. You continued, or do you not remember? How could I stop you? When I cared so deeply for you…"

"I'll tell you the same thing I told Rolanda," Hermione's voice raised above that of the other womans', her body tensing under the strain of not trying to match the emotion displayed by the Headmistress who was within arms reach… Close enough to cause much damage if she so felt the urge which, at times, she was oh so close to committing. "I never said what I felt, what I feel, is right… I only am admitting to feeling it."

"It's preposterous!" Raged the older witch, brushing past Hermione with such force that their shoulders connected harshly. That was enough to hammer a crack in the brunette's resolve.

"Is it? Is it really, Minerva?" The younger woman questioned, her voice raising further until she all but shouted the others' name. "You were the one in power, you were the one in charge… I was just a fucking leech for your affection and I felt so strongly, yet, you had the upper hand. You should have stopped me from the beginning, instead you kissed me back, and continued to do so…"

"I LOVED you… Of course, I wanted it to continue! If Rolanda had let me go, I would have begged for your forgiveness…"

"If you had had half the fucking brain to just accept me, IF you loved me instead of trying to convince yourself I was incapable of loving you at all, then we could have been happy!" Hermione's strength all but dissipated. At long last, tears sprung to her eyes while the one's aimed at her were furious, her own only held despair. How she wanted to summon the will to be livid, she wanted to express her anger as freely as the witch in front of her was willing to do so, however, she didn't feel the heat of fury, much to her displeasure. Her enmity was only replaced by anguish.

This was not how she had wanted it to go, they were getting too carried away. Hermione turned on the spot and withdrew her wand, her vision obstructed by tears. Aiming to put up a charm, a separation between them that might fall within moments, those moments that she would take to get away and leave the woman and escape this interaction, she parted her lips but a hand on her wrist and a body crashing into her own sent her wand flying from her fingertips. Minerva's growl in her ear as they fell to stone filled Hermione's head, without magic - and not willing to use wandless against the woman - all she had were her hands. In Minerva's mind, she didn't know what Hermione attempted, only that a weapon had been brandished and that was enough to set her off. She wouldn't allow whatever spell Hermione had attempted to pass those lips.

In broad daylight, the two women struggled for dominance, rolling from side to side as each tried to gain the upper hand.

"Stop… STOP!" The Scottish woman yelled, gaining the strength to plant her knees firmly on either side of the slender figure below, her fingers clasping wrists and pinning them down. Their faces mere inches apart.

Heaving heavy breaths, emotions running high, the women stared into each other. Eyes shining with unshed tears, Minerva losing all sense of composure as the woman beneath stopped struggling, she did what she felt like and abruptly leaned down and pressed her mouth to the one beneath, crushingly. A strangled sound erupted in Hermione's throat, but Minerva couldn't see the look on her face, for her eyes were closed tightly. The younger woman strained against her hands but, ultimately, after a few moments, stopped. Initially, her lips were slack… But after a few seconds, Minerva felt those lips move. The Headmistress shifted, breaking the kiss to position another, then another, only to find that the woman beneath was matching her. Hermione's head lifted from the stone beneath and she felt herself losing it. The fingers around her wrists slacked. When she thought she might be freed, the first thing to cross her mind was to try and throw the woman off when she least expected, however, her hands found themselves gripping Minerva's shoulders, keeping her in place.

Beautiful madness took hold of the young woman and she let herself force every ounce of frustration, every modicum of guilt and sadness, into the searing kiss she was being offered. Limbs grew frantic in their grasping and pulling, shirts being untucked from jeans and slacks, hands finding skin. She allowed the Headmistress to have her way, despite the feeling of how wrong it was, the woman wanted it. She needed a release of something and found it in the form of digits forcing themselves into her with such power that she nearly screamed into the Scottish womans' mouth, the tightness of her jeans causing that hand to struggle but still hit its mark.

When all was said and done, and Minerva realized what she had been so compelled to do, after Hermione came more than once and was shaking beneath her, the woman abruptly withdrew and left the woman lying there without another word between them. Hermione couldn't deny that she was satisfied - that the tension she'd been carrying had been released - but the circumstances were questionable. The act, itself, was questionable. Although, much to her surprise, it didn't make her feel anything other than Ah, well… That happened. Once the realization had washed upon her and she was left to pick up her wand, retuck her shirt, and shake out her hair, the woman hadn't the slightest which way was up or down, only that her core ached with the feeling of a fresh fucking, and her legs weren't able to keep her upright without quivering. Her lover was dead and gone, she had no obligation to be faithful to anyone anymore… Yet, the guilt rose. It had felt good… The woman still knew how to work her body even after all these years. Still, what would be the consequence? Certainly not hers, she was only the willing victim of Minerva's unbridled passion… But who knew what conversation, if any, would follow.

Some time passed before Hermione left the tower and sought her own rooms. There she remained for the rest of the day, pondering over what had transpired, and why she didn't feel anger towards the witch who took her without asking. Again.