Chapter 30
Swapping shifts was seamless. The pair of women shared their duties and the workload quite well, all things considered. The first week Hermione took the evenings, only to find that more often than not, her replacement remained in class for the duration. Only two days did the woman not stay behind, and on those two days Hermione was forced to wonder what she was up to. The following week, they switched, and Hermione took the morning classes gladly. Like her work partner, some days she stayed behind, where as other days, all she wanted to do was take her marking back to the staff room or Minerva's rooms and sit in comfortable quiet with the woman that she loved.
Of course, some early morning hours were often spent either with Rolanda in her quarters, or the silver haired witch joined her in Minerva's rooms. The new activity being introduced into her schedule made sure she was aware that her leg was still to give her a fair amount of problems. The more they worked at it though, the more it became manageable. Rolanda was the only person who really bore witness to the women in their natural state of being. Neither her nor Minerva really cared to attempt to hide their mutual affection in her presence. This morning was no different, aside from the fact that it was Saturday and neither of the women felt too inclined to leave their bubble.
On her back she laid while Minerva sat at her desk, mulling over the academic journal she was preparing to send in to one of the many council's to which she belonged. Hands stretched and manipulated her joints and muscles, Hermione focused only on her breathing, her eyes closed, while the woman above her applied more pressure. That was until she heard a faint and unusual sound followed by a string of grumbled curses, opening her eyes to see a crumpled piece of parchment ricocheting off her chest and landing on the floor. Her ankle and thigh was released.
"You're leering again, bloody tart…" A low muttering filled the air between them while the silver haired witch rubbed for a moment where she'd been struck in the forehead. "Don't act like it hurt." Hermione smirked, raising a brow at her friend with a humor filled gaze.
"Again?" Her unaffected thigh was swatted with a hand, garnering a deep chuckle.
"Not my fault you got your bloody tits falling out…" Rolanda mumbled bitterly as she began straightening Hermione's leg and kneading the muscles, as was customary, while shooting Minerva a glance. "So, have you two decided what you're doing about that Christmas Ball yet? Matching nuns habits?"
Minerva leaned back in her chair, peering over the rim of her glasses. They hadn't spoken about it, but the time was soon coming where students and faculty alike would adorn their dress robes and have a fun filled evening of food, drink, and dancing in the Great Hall before the Christmas break. The brunette leaned up on her elbows on the mat on which she laid and cast a glance over her shoulder, meeting Minerva's eye briefly, before her gaze turned to land on the silver haired woman.
"Whatever the Headmistress decides to wear, I'll find something suitable," Hermione stated after a minute, relaxed. "It's not like we'll be going together." Minerva's eyes were trained on the back of the woman's head, the brunette could feel it, but she said nothing more. Rolanda hummed to herself, her thumbs working the woman's thigh.
"And why is that, Bird… And here I thought since it appears you two are going swimmingly, you'd be jumping at the bit to shout it from the Astronomy Tower…" The brunette woman grimaced at the line of question but, also, because the woman's thumbs and hands found a particularly tender area. A warning glance was passed between them. Rolanda seemed unfazed.
Although working with Agustine had been actually more than bearable, when pertaining to classes themselves, the comments she would make in passing, the way she would think aloud to her audience of one, openly discuss her pursuit, it took its toll. Hermione remained tight lipped, she didn't entertain such thoughts, and although her disposition was tender, warm, and inviting with her lover, even Minerva could detect that in the background something wasn't quite sitting right. But she didn't question it. Hermione always came to her in time.
"Not while that woman is slinking her pencil skirt wearing ass around the castle…" The brunette muttered at long last, causing the pair of older women to look at each other. Hermione laid herself back down and covered her face with her arms. It was the weekend. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about dances, work, that woman… Yet, there she was. She felt a friendly, supportive pat on her leg and the woman shifted away, her footsteps grew distant.
"Is she posing problems, dearest one…" Minerva asked softly, watching as Rolanda brought two cold glasses of water from the kitchen. The brunette mumbled unintelligibly before her ankle was nudged with the toe of the Flying Instructor's shoe. Hermione uncovered her face and extended a hand for Rolanda to take and to help her up with as the yellow eyed witch placed their drinks down.
"It doesn't really matter, darling… I'm sure it'll pass." Hermione deflected the question swiftly as she was helped to her feet, she didn't let go of Rolanda's hand, she held onto it briefly, gave it a squeeze in gratitude, before letting go. A small smack on her butt is what she was given in return, that sparked a miserable glare passed from her lover to their dear friend.
"Oh, Minerva… Relax, loosen your bun a little bit…" Rolanda chided. Hermione couldn't help but to snicker as emerald eyes trained themselves upon her. The toned woman ventured to the slightly perturbed witch and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.
"Let Rolanda have her fun, dearest… She hasn't rolled around in a while." Hermione stepped behind Minerva's desk chair and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, feeling hands cover her arms delicately. Minerva relented… Somewhat.
After a few moments, peaceful moments, Hermione pressed a kiss to Minerva's neck and returned to the couch where she and Rolanda settled into relaxed conversation. Although she did chime in on occasion, Minerva mostly worked on sorting and editing her work while listening, it never ceased to amaze her how these two very different people had grown to be so very close. It was a pleasure that someone besides herself could make Hermione throw her head back and laugh the way she would when positively tickled pink by a thought. They talked about everything, it seemed - about school, about their individual travel and experiences, some of Hermiome's stories she'd heard before but there were many that she hadn't. Some stories were accompanied by a scar on her body, some weren't, but the way she described her life experience, if things had been different, Minerva sometimes wondered who this woman would have been.
Over the course of a few hours topics ranged from study, travel, and eventually landed on flying. When Hermione talked about her motorcycle, Minerva could hear her longing. She loved that bloody bike. Vaguely, Minerva remembered an evening of watching Hermione ride over the quidditch pitch and it made her feel somewhat queasy… Never did she imagine Hermione taking a liking to flying as much as she did. She wondered if maybe she'd ever tested out a broom…
"That jacket you always wear, the leather one… Did that come with the bike?" Asked Rolanda as Hermione passed a cigarette between them. Hermione gave a small shake of the head, expelling a tendrils of smoke through her nostrils.
"No, Amelia had it on the day she died, I've worn it ever since." Rolanda watched Minerva lift her head from the parchment she'd been inspecting, her eyes drifting over to them. As Rolanda passed the cigarette back, she softly cleared her throat.
"Do you still keep her things with you?" Hermione eyed Rolanda. She caught the older woman's gaze drifting passed her shoulder, no doubt to the woman who sat that distance behind at her desk. She took a drag of the cigarette and blew, leaning to tap her ashes into an ashtray on the table.
"We shared a lot of things so, I guess, yes," Hermione turned her head, but couldn't see the woman from their positions. "Does it bother you that I've kept things, Minerva?"
Truth be told, the woman wasn't sure. She could hear Hermiome's thoughts, hear her voice stating It's hard to be jealous of a dead woman… And this was true. But it was also difficult to imagine being compared to the wondrous idea of what could have been, opposed to what they currently had. It was bittersweet. At the end of the day, however, if she searched herself… No. She didn't truly mind.
"No… I don't mind that you've kept her things, she meant a great deal." Minerva replied tenderly, displaying as much understanding as she could convey. Hermione gave a nod and returned her gaze to their friend, butting out the cigarette they had shared when it was finished.
"Amy knew that I loved you, she entered into a relationship with me knowing that… And she loved me anyway."
"She sounds like a good woman." Remarked the woman resting on the other end of the couch. Hermione gave a nod, her hands lacing on her lap.
"You would have liked her… Both of you…" An unexpected knocking at the door caused the women to turn their heads and gaze in the direction of it. "Expecting anyone, love?" The brunette asked, however, she was met by Minerva shaking her head. Rolanda and Hermione looked at one another.
"Come in!" Minerva called, laying down her quill and rising to stand by her desk as the door was pushed open.
Hermione felt her stomach drop.
"Vell, vell… A private party, how… quaint." It was made clear by the way the ginger woman's gaze bounced between the three women that she wasn't expecting Minerva's quarters to be filled to the gills. Of course, that didn't stop the woman from closing the door behind her and stepping further in, rather than excuse herself and leave. "I vas hoping ve could go somevhere… More private?"
Hermione pursed her lips and reached, her hand almost slapping her pack of cigarettes with the force with which she grabbed them. She almost laughed, she could have laughed, this unbearable woman just didn't know when to quit. Even on her bloody day off, she had come and disrupt what could have been a wonderful day. Rolanda seemed to mirror her thoughts and waved her to toss the pack over so she could take one for herself. Minerva on the other hand stared blankly, utterly flummoxed.
"I… I don't think that's possible, Miss. Blanchett."
"I think it's time for a drink." Hermione's voice pierced the air with authority. She turned her head and fully appraised the ebony haired woman who looked back at her questioningly, Hermione gave a shrug. She turned her body away and lit her cigarette, tossing the pack of matches in her hand to Rolanda to catch in her lap, then rose from the couch.
"Have I interrupted somesing here... " Augustine gestured with a hand to the room, her manicured nails flashing. Hermione had to snort as she wandered into the kitchen to Minerva's ice box. It was awkward for a moment, Minerva's tongue was caught in her throat. She didn't know what to think.
With a bottle of wine in her hand, Hermione returned to the living room a few moments later, Minerva and Rolanda eyed her with mild surprise. She placed the bottle down on the coffee table and returned to the kitchen, without so much as a look toward the ginger woman. Sobriety be damned. She returned to the living room with her cigarette dangling from between her lips, two wine glasses in each hand.
"I had every intention of enjoying my Saturday," Hermione stated pointedly as she set the wine glasses down on the table, her frayed nerves only making each stiff movement more fluid. "So, pull up a chair, Augustine."
The author didn't know what to say, she simply stared at Minerva who peered down at Hermione, who remained puffing away on her cigarette as Rolanda tried not to let her features betray the absolute amusement of the situation. At the very least, Hermione wasn't grabbing the bottle and running out the door to drink alone. That was the crux of her issue… The hiding away her addiction. With both Minerva and Rolanda in the same room, there wasn't much she could do but behave.
Despite the tug in her stomach that told her that she could be stepping into a large mistake, Minerva recovered and took those few steps toward the coffee table, pouring wine into the glasses. With Augustine to her back, Minerva caught Hermione's eye with a suspicious and questioning gaze. Hermione arched a brow, willing her partner to read her mind that there was no way, no way in hell, that she was going to let her leave and be alone with the author. She trusted Minerva implicitly… Augustine, however, she did not. And so, if she needed to keep them all here in one room under the guise of an afternoon meeting of the minds, so be it.
"Please, feel free to make yourself comfortable, August." Minerva straightened and extended her a glass of wine, taking one for herself in the meantime while she returned to her desk in the corner to continue her work.
"We're not going to bite." Rolanda ventured to say as she passed Hermione a glass of wine, afterward taking one for herself. Chocolate brown eyes watched the awkward woman regain her senses over the rim of her glass, and then the author shifted to one of the wingback chairs by the fire place, turning it, to better face the couch. Her movements showed her hesitation, she appeared out of place there, so well done up while the rest of them were relaxed in their Saturday attire.
"You'll have to forgive me, I don't often receive invitation to join in on much around here." The ginger woman stated before lifting her own glass to her lips. Rolanada eyed her, however, it was the brunette who made the first move to extend the conversation.
"I've seen you teach and you are good at what it is that you do, but you need to understand… We are a tight knit group here, if you want to edge in, you do need to be likeable." Tapping her cigarette on the ashtray, Hermione cut no corners. She was afforded an unreadable look from the ginger woman, whose eyes glanced briefly to the Headmistress in the corner who sat steadily working. Steadily working but listening closely.
"Is sat so…" She questioned, torn between feeling attacked and read by the brunette woman. A feeling that was commonplace in their interactions.
"I'm afraid so, Augustine… The last time you were here certainly caused a ruckus." Stretching her legs, the yellow eyed woman rested the heel of her foot on the coffee table, crossing her feet at the ankles as she gazed at the stiff witch seated in the leather chair, none too far away.
"It vasn't one of my best moments, alsough I have been attempting to make amends… And you, Minerva, do not seem to care too greatly for my efforts in zis."
Now they were getting somewhere, Hermione put out her cigarette and took her friend's, who had extended hers out for Hermione to do the same with it, her eyes briefly drifting to her lover in the corner who turned her head and looked over.
"As I've told you, what happened before is forgiven… I wouldn't have returned you here to teach in place of our professor if it hadn't been, but beyond that… I had no ulterior motive for my decision, I consider us… Friends, but little more than that." Minerva made herself quite clear, and now, luckily, there were witnesses.
"And vat of zis voman?" Hermione watched one of those pale, slender hands gesture vaguely in her direction. She caught Rolanda's eye who appeared as though she were watching a tennis match, highly interested in watching the scenes unfold.
"I've told you many times, August… I'm little more than nothing to Minerva, we're friends and colleagues." Hermione jumped in to put her own foot down, and then lifted the wine to her lips to drain the glass in her hand. The silver haired witch was at the ready to pour her another, knowing that was what she was going to ask for anyway. At this, the emerald eyed witch behind her turned further in her seat to gaze the brunette, then her eyes drifted back to Augustine, meeting the blue eyes aimed upon her.
"Many times…" It was a gut punch. It began to make sense as to why Hermione was acting out in the way she had been, and the strange air she was sometimes rewarded with about the woman in quieter moments. Little was she aware that Hermione may have been subject to consistently undervaluing their commitment while working alongside the woman who persistently attempted to seek her attention. Persistence that she, herself, had been able to thwart thus far. And now the behavior Hermione exhibited, in these moments, began to make sense. But to hear her say it outloud, to hear her say 'I'm little more than nothing', which was a bold faced lie, that hurt. It hurt Minerva deeply, and she imagined it had a similar effect on her lover as well. She could sense it. But there they were.
Bristling, the ginger woman caught the looks on the women's faces. Her own discomfort rising as she began to see that there was a falsehood somewhere.
"Somehow, I don't believe vat you are saying is true... Ve have vorked togezer for two straight veeks, and you are never in your quarters…"
"You've been to my quarters?" Hermione's brows shot high. The woman never told her that…
"Vell, if zer is somesing zat I don't know or if zer is a section zat ve need to cover, you are ze one zat wrote the lesson… Of course, I need clarification to make sure I'm doing my job right, naturally, I go to ze source… So, now I'm beginning to assume ze reason I can never find you is because you are here…" Augustine pieced it together succinctly, Hermione could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, felt it creeping up her neck, and she began to feel… Trapped. A rolodex of excuses started to flip through her mind, each one sounded less plausible.
"August, Hermione and I…"
"Minerva…" The brunette angled on the sofa to give her lover a warning look, all the while Rolanda sipped her wine, biting her own tongue. Minerva ignored Hermione, shooting her only a glance before returning her attention to the author who sat, hanging on her words.
"Hermione, and myself, have been in some form of relationship for a very long time… She was my student once and when she became of age, after the war, she returned here to learn… Before her graduation, we were together… I made many mistakes in that time and we have recently come to the realization that our affection has not changed, it's been a slow transition…" Chocolate brown eyes stared at Minerva, the anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach made her want to throw her glass in her direction but she stilled. Blue eyes looked from one woman to the other.
"Vy didn't you tell me…"
"Because you have a big fucking mouth, and I asked her not to tell anyone." Growled the brown eyed witch at long last. The red headed woman lost her tongue.
"Out of respect for your feelings, what happened a few years ago was… Well, it was lovely until you decided to go against the only wish I had, which was to remain private, but there is no conceivable chance that it will happen again, under current circumstances… So, please stop pestering my professor with it, and, this time, keep it to yourself." Minerva returned to her work, leaving the three women in her living room to cling to their wine glasses, for their own separate reasons.
Rising from her seat abruptly, the ginger haired woman wordlessly placed her emptied glass down on the coffee table and turned from room.
"I sink I've heard enough for one day." She muttered angrily, her heels sounding over stone as she drew herself to their door. Without even a glance backward, she left.
"Rolanda…"
"Yup… Yup… Damage control." Smirking, the silver haired witch put her glass down on the table and collected herself to stand. Shooting Hermione a supportive look, the Flying Instructor left the rooms in order to seek out the scorned woman, leaving the two women behind to take in the silence that laid heavy.
Hermione couldn't find her words, she was furious. Meanwhile, Minerva remained at her desk and continued to quietly work, her wine remaining utterly untouched.
After many minutes, Minerva stacked her parchments accordingly and rose from her seat, drifting over to the moved chair that Augustine had used and returning it to its prior positioning, her eyes glancing over the woman seated on the couch who stared only at a spot on the coffee table.
"It had to be done." Minerva stated after a moment.
"You had no right…"
"I had every right," Countered the ebony haired woman, her tone growing in volume and severity. "Why didn't you tell me that for the past fortnight you've been having to lie? What has she been doing, or saying?" Hermione raised her head and peered at her lover, her eyes hardening.
"Because it's just the cross you have to bear when the woman that you love brings round her ex and you have to work alongside them… Now, how long do you think it'll be before the whole damn school knows?" Shaking her head, Minerva remained behind her leather chair, her arms folding on top of it.
"Rolanda will take care of it, she has a way with women." There wasn't a single doubt in Minerva's mind that Rolanda would be able to soothe Augustine into silence. Hermione remained unconvinced.
"I still have to work with her, you know… " Hermione reached for the bottle of wine to pour the remaining contents into her glass, her lover watching her with daunted eyes.
"Hermione, all of this could have been avoided if we were just honest… If we could tell the people we know to be our friends, the school wouldn't burn down just because we are here, together…"
How the tables had turned. Where as once Minerva, at one point, couldn't have possibly imagined their relationship being brought into the light of day for fear of being ostracized, Hermione was the one who kept it close to the vest, unsaid, and remained unwilling. Knowing now what she knew, how it felt to be smothered by secrecy, especially in light of current events, she would have never subjected her partner to it in the first place.
"Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to process all of this, myself… You and I, not working for the Ministry anymore, Kingsley, my job here, with you, fucking Augustine… My leg, all of it... " Gesturing to their rooms, the brunette woman finally stood, glass in hand. Minerva stilled, appraising. "I'm still processing everything, everything moves so damn fast… Emotions, my insecurities, they don't just change or get swept under the rug because you want them to, Minerva."
"I'm not trying to rush you…"
"But you are rushing me," Returned Hermione, nearing the woman who straightened from her leaning so that she could be on level with her lover who searched her eyes, seeking to find something which she did not know. "I know that I'm difficult, I'm highly aware of it, but I can't help this… I'm still adjusting to the fact that after years, here we are… I'm adjusting to life here, not having to look over my shoulder just in case someone is there waiting to hurt me, adjusting to the fact that here… I'm safe, I'm just starting to get used to the fact that I have friends again, a family, who loves me, I want people to know that I'm here because I deserve to teach, not because I'm sharing a bed with the Headmistress."
Minerva didn't know what to say. It was like every week she was uncovering more and more about the woman. The complexity of the woman's mind and her heart was intriguing, nothing was ever simply laid out, it was a spider web of thought. A map wasn't freely given, it was earned. And with each step, or misstep, more ground was uncovered. Navigating Hermione was a challenge, but one that she found herself so drawn to. The woman wondered if it would always be this way, she imagined it would grow easier over time, and it did nothing to deter her. She, herself, was a complicated woman. And now she had met her match. She had to think outside the box. Leaving Hermione to stand there, the warmth of wine flooding her veins, Minerva turned from the woman and wandered into their bedroom. She found a pair of Hermione's jeans in a drawer and began to lay out her attire on the bed. It didn't take long for Hermione to find her way to the doorway, her features adorning a question mark as she watched Minerva doing this.
"Get dressed." Minerva ordered, but not without a touch of tenderness.
"Minerva.. I'm not in the mood…"
"Please," The green eyed witch gazed at her lover, her own hands working at the buttons of her blouse to remove. "Get dressed."
Reluctantly, Hermione placed her wine glass down on their vanity and began to pull on the sweater that was laid out on the bed, changing out of her yoga pants into jeans. She was given a thick pair of woolen socks and her eyes watched as Minerva began to adorn herself in similar attire - a sweater, jeans, thick socks. The ebony haired woman found a short thick forest green woolen coat in her own wardrobe and nodded to the leather jacket hanging over the arm of the chair in the corner, a clear indication that she was inviting Hermione to wear it. The brunette pulled it on. From their previous conversation, before they had the unwanted company, Minerva could tell Hermione had had a craving. A craving for acceleration. She knew it well herself, and maybe… Just maybe… She could use her deduction to their advantage to avoid the argument between them from growing. Now that she had a better understanding.
Without knowing what the woman was up to, Hermione complied. She was unsettled by it, but she followed along, if only to understand why Minerva was acting so strangely after the events that had transpired that early afternoon. They got on their shoes, and left their rooms. Together. But not touching.
Minerva led them through the castle, the students mulled around them and they greeted fellow staff and student alike as they passed, both wearing masks of calm reservedness. Out onto the grounds, the pair journeyed. Hermione found herself taking some joy in the cool, it almost made her forget that she was somewhat pissed with the woman leading her onward, until she realized that the direction they were heading in was Hagrid's. Her eyes found the emerald woman who marched through the snow without affording her a sideways glance. Her features were serene, giving the sense that she was sure of herself. Although when they reached the hut, the woman stopped when she saw the tarped machine. She turned to Hermione, the crunching of snow beneath their feet and the clear blue sky above, the painting of the landscape behind the woman, even if she was angry, it was hard to deny that out on the white covered lawns of Hogwarts grounds, Minerva was beautiful.
"How do I work this thing?" She asked, leather gloved hand motioning toward the bike. Hermione tilted her head, her features wearing a look that said are you really asking me this… Minverva had been a seeker in her time, flying was no real discovery for her, but the motorcycle behaved differently from a broom. "Tell me before I lose my nerve."
"Alright." Hermione said, her warm breath causing the cool air to frost. She brought Minerva toward her bike and the women began to peel back its snow covered covering carefully. Hermione wiped the seat down with her own gloved hand, wiping snow that fell in its reveal, then she took hold of the handle bar and lifted her leg to straddle the machine. Minerva gazed at her with curiosity.
"Get on the back and hold on." Minerva's chin tilted downward, eyeing Hermione's leg, the one she knew wasn't quite well, her lover caught her look. "The clutch… Here…" The brunette placed her foot on a peddle above a larger, more difficult looking one. "This makes it airborne… It's not as hard as it looks, after that, the handles… They do most of the work, it's best if you watch before you try it… It's not like a broom."
She had her reservations. But, ultimately, Minerva gave a short nod and climbed aboard the bike, her arms wrapping themselves around her lover's middle. Hermione's heart beat wildly, for a moment… She almost forgot that she was mad. Almost. But now wasn't the time for anger, it was time to take a ride. A rather thoughtful suggestion…
She felt Minerva's chin on her shoulder and she began to explain that on one side was a kickstart, then the handle turned and generated a conversation between these two mechanics that started the motor. She gave her example by lifting her left foot, her unaffected leg, and forcing down on a bar, her wrist twisting the one handle of the bike that didn't remain stationary. Minerva watched with interest, her arms tightening around Hermione's middle when the noise began to rattle the motorcycle beneath them. Never before had she experienced a revving engine beneath her.
It was terrifying.
Yelling over the loud noise, Hermione further explained that it was the small peddle, the clutch her other foot was on, the one Minerva had seen, this is what drew them upward. Slowly, Hermione let her foot down, only for them both to experience the sensation of the bike rising from the snow covered earth below. Hermione felt Minerva's arms tighten exponentially. Meanwhile, her own pulse quickened by the feeling of weightlessness that caused her stomach to leap… How she had missed it. Without warning, and with Minerva clinging to her like a scared kitten, a sly smile curled the corner of Hermione's mouth - clear blue skies called to her, as higher off the ground they rose - Hermione twisted the handle her right hand rested upon, and the bike shot forward, mid speed. She heard a noise behind her, but the arms, their tightness, she had to laugh as her face was whipped by the breeze. Minerva didn't let go, thank Merlin. But Hermione didn't relent, she needed the speed, the height, and the feeling of freedom that flying that motorcycle gave her. And now she was sharing it with someone… She couldn't wait to talk about it with her lover, later, after she was done having her fun.
TBC...