Chapter 32
Every surface had the woman's imprint. Forced to live in the confinement of her memory was as heart wrenching as reliving it over, and over again. In the darkest moments, just when she thought she could feel everything begin to start feeling just a little more normal again, a flash of hair, a scent, a vague remembrance of a touch, had her on her knees.
The woman was everywhere here; in the smell of fresh ink on parchment, in the caressing of book spines, curled in the corner of her couch, and laying in front of the fire like a kitten stretching in a warm patch of sunline. The image lingered in doorways draped in sheets, sat on the corner of her desk while she worked, and nothing could erase the visions that her mind produced when longing set in.
Minerva didn't realize until she was gone how much she'd grown to truly love.
As a fresh wave of despair rose in her chest, she felt herself cling to the doorframe of her bedroom, her forehead making harsh contact with the woodgrain as new tears rolled over her cheeks. Months had flown by, unrelenting, as time ticked ever onward. Still, she was stagnant, in the same place where she was left, and forced to reply each minute, whether tender or otherwise, until all that was left were fragments of what had been. Crying out to no one, cursing between her teeth, her voice didn't sound like her own as it filled the empty rooms. Glaring from shadowed corners, her personal failings crept like monsters in the dark, tearing with sharpened claws at her resolve and piercing her with a loneliness that had hardly been felt before the girl.
She couldn't tell a soul. Not a singular one. No one could know.
If only she had been strong enough to keep her, to tell her that the feeling she had been gifted was reciprocated in every way, if she had only been able to face the world with clear eyes and take on the judgement, the fear, everything would have been different. She did it to herself. It wasn't the first time, either. Only this time, she couldn't justify it anymore.
If by some miracle, it came to an end, she would never make the same mistakes again…
_~*HGMM*~_
In the quiet, with the soft crackling fire and the sound of a heartbeat against her ear, the ebony haired witch laid above her lover and felt fingertips trace along her spine. A tangle of arms and legs, she was held there. Captive. Unmoving. Not wanting to.
Evenly breathing, she felt herself succumb to deep self reflection. Promises she'd made to no one in the dark crept into her mind and she began to realize that she was going about the important things all wrong. Declarations of love and devotion only went so far, the woman beneath her was a beautiful mix of then and now, she was altered, where as, Minerva had remained fundamentally the same. She had been wondering for quite some time why they were so intune and, yet, could stumble so easily in one another's presence, it was presented on both sides. Looking at it from the outside in, core values being shared aside, there was still so much learning to be done. Minerva had yet to master the delicate art of delivering Hermione's needs beyond that of bedroom and the things that were typical of sharing a home. Tending to one and other was simple and easy, but the real tasks were still a daily discovery.
As she lay there, wrapped in thought, the gentle drawing of languid circles lulling her further, the woman beneath stirred her attention with a soft, deepened hum.
"I can hear you thinking." She heard the woman say as that hand stopped and splayed fingers between her shoulder blades. Minerva felt lips against her forehead, a gentle kiss. The headmistress slowly exhaled the breath she had been subconsciously holding and sighed, relaxing against the woman beneath her. Aiming a glance upward, she was met with the spectacular view of Hermione's chin, but little else, and so her gaze returned to the fire.
"If you could change me in any way, would you change anything…" Plainly, she asked, and felt the woman beneath her still. The woman seemed to have paused, but only for a few short seconds before a soft chuckle filled the air.
"You're a control freak." Hermione stated through a small, crooked smile, her eyes aimed at the ceiling. Minerva stiffened. With furrowed brow, she lifted her head from Hermione's chest and leaned up on her elbows, her eyes finding a faintly amused look on her lover's face.
"That was rather quick…"
"You did ask… And you are, you are controlling, and you like being in control… What more would you like me to tell you?" Remarked the younger woman, her own brows raising in challenge to be met with the look of slight discomfort, almost hurt.
"I am responsible, you've seen how many plates I have to spin at once." Defensive. Despite the fact that Minerva's features bore indignance, Hermione had to laugh. Of course, she would defend it. It was Minerva McGonagall - Leader of Hogwarts, Transfigurations Extraordinaire… Her fingers were dipped in so many pies at once. Head of House, not to mention all these groups to which she belonged, scholarly - the only time Hermione saw that bun fall loose was when her own fingers were the ones to loosen it. But, again… Minerva had asked and she answered. She wouldn't change her statement.
"Darling, do you remember when I came back to Hogwarts, as a student, and you asked for my assistance with the library and the Room of Requirement, and you said to me," Hermione cleared her throat, setting her features to mimic her lover and attempt to pull a Scottish brogue. "I know you will make me proud, sort them as you find fit, Miss. Granger… Just make sure you… And then you listed about twenty seven bloody things for me to remember whilst I worked… Why do you think I stood there with a notebook at the ready when I asked for instruction, and you've always done this… Your way."
The ebony haired woman was about to argue, somewhat ruffled by Hermione's imitation, when the memory hit her… Eventually, she closed her parted lips. Hermione watched some realization dawn across her lover's features, Minerva aimed her gaze upon her face and Hermione gave a short little nod, her lips curling further into a smirk.
"You see?" There could never be any doubt, Minerva enjoyed her control. It made it very difficult to feel like her partner when, in reality, you always felt that little bit less enlightened, a little less entitled to unpopular opinion - in fact, sometimes, it made Hermione feel like she did when she was a child. Which wasn't exactly a sexy thought to have.
Hermione lifted her hand and grazed Minerva's cheek with the knuckles of her fingers, drawing the woman back to the present and from deepening thoughts. She took the woman's chin between index and the pad of her thumb, gently guiding her toward for a soft kiss, then they parted. Sincerely, she gazed at the woman above.
"When I was younger, before I left and I lived through my own set of experiences, I would never have questioned you… My whole world revolved around you, and I would have followed you blindly to the ends of the world, without question, if you had required it," Hermione stated in earnest, locking eyes with those inches from her own, seeing the emotion swirling there within them. "But the truth is, that isn't a partnership… That would have been you having some puppet on a string, and with mutual affection and responsibility comes respect… I am due to have yours, and if you truly respect me… Show me by listening and abiding by what I tell you I need, don't make decisions without me that will impact our lives like you did yesterday, do these things for me and I will follow you to the ends of the world beside you, not behind you, if you should require it."
A pale hand covered Hermione's tan one, and Minerva held that hand against her cheek, the warmth of her lover's palm vanishing the chill that had wanted to settle itself. Ultimately, the young woman wasn't wrong. She did have power, she enjoyed being in control, and even sometimes neither were necessary.
"How is it that you have managed to grow into such an extraordinary woman while I have remained entirely the same…" Minerva ventured to ask, almost reflectively, as she led the hand beneath her own and pressed a kiss to Hermione's palm.
"Because you already knew who you were by the time we met - you were Professor, mentor, friend, colleague, fought already to defend our ways of life… You were everything you could have been," Hermione explained thoughtfully, her thumb brushing over the curve of Minerva's cheek. "I had yet to figure out what I was capable of… And now I have."
"And what are you capable of?" Chocolate brown eyes traced angular features, caressing with gaze. It was a loaded question… She was capable of anything, unpredictable where she had been utterly predictable in her youth, now she kept people guessing… She loved that. But, she realized, much like this woman, she adored her position, to be stationed in front of a crowded room, to gain attention, to teach right from wrong… To teach children.
"I'm capable of being one of the best members of Hogwarts faculty the school has ever seen, and it makes sense for me to be there, it's filled a void… As much as it was difficult for me to admit, I knew from the moment I stepped off the boat in my first year that Hogwarts would always be where I belonged… That school has weaved itself through every single detail of me, I owe it to myself to accept it… And share that way of living with you, as I would have done had we… Well," Hermione paused, bringing Minerva's hand to rest with her own on her chest. "Had you not had your head shoved so deeply up your own arsehole."
The ebony haired woman didn't argue with that, though a fleeting look of slight disapproval crossed her features. Sometimes it was refreshing, the brazen way Hermione had developed her style of communication - when she was communicative -, the woman cut no corners, never gilding the lily, but in some cases, it was also striking.
"I have wondered, I am wondering, if I… As you have put it, not had my head shoved so deeply up my own arsehole," Hermione pursed her lips to quell a bit of a chuckle that threatened at the sound of her most proper Headmistress returning her phrase, a sight not unnoticed by the woman resting on her elbows above. "What is it that you had wanted to happen, what did you envision for the future back in those days?" The question caused that small smirk to slip from Hermione's lips gradually. It would have been a bold lie to say that she had had no expectations, that her memories of it were lost by avoidance, and that after she left the woman that day, she had never thought about it again. But what good would it do now? Why was it even a question if it didn't really matter? What was its relevance?
"Firstly, I thought we didn't want to rehash any of that, and, secondly, I'm curious what your motivations are in wanting to know…" Her voice was, perhaps, a bit more stern than she had intended, but it didn't deter or cause any undue harm to her lover. Minerva merely leaned down and dropped a kiss to her collarbone, then lifted her head to gaze upon her face.
"I said I didn't want it used as ammunition against me in an argument, should we have one, but I never said that my curiosities hadn't lingered about the event…" Having this clarified and explained, Hermione listened and eyed her lover, her hand gently guiding itself down to Minerva's hip where it gave the woman a pat, an indication that she wished to be freed from beneath her frame. The figure above slipped from her and rested itself alongside, beside her, an arm draped across her stomach briefly; briefly only because Hermione began to raise into a seated position, a motion that Minerva had intent to mirror before a hand landed upon her and gently guided her back down, punctuated by a slight turning of face so that her eyes could view Hermione's features. Only just.
"I can't look at you if you want me to answer you, so… Please, lie down and listen." The hand on Minerva's side squeezed her for a short moment, it was a touch that told her it was alright but she needed patience. Propping her head, Minerva laid, her eyes tracing her lover's bare back, tracing the long, white lines that mapped her past excursions as she waited for the brunette to speak.
Hermione wrapped her arms around her knees and turned her face towards the warmth of lit fire. In a place of safety, in her home, it was easy to find words that were more difficult to locate and produce when they were in their shared rooms at Hogwarts. Her mind wasn't caught up by anything other than the fact that, together, they were on her own playing field. And with that in mind, she cleared her throat, her own eyes tracing the far reaches of her fireplace at the soot stained bricks.
"I would be lying to you if I said that when we were together, the more we progressed… Even when every once in a while you would come to your senses and try to break it off between us, that I didn't often think about our future together," Listening intently, the only sound apart from Hermione's voice and the crackling embers was her pulse in her ears. "I always thought of what I would do when I graduated from school, after seeing how proud you would be of my accomplishment, how we would navigate our future... I would attend Dunbar, I would intern with the Ministry in the research department, we would find a place in between to be together, and, eventually, I would become your equal… While you maintained your position at Hogwarts, I would work and learn until, maybe… Possibly… I would have the opportunity to work with you again. Work and grow older, have a family, and I wouldn't have changed a damn thing about that… I was so proud to be yours, that you could have chosen a life with me."
Hermione ran a hand back through her hair, her elbow planting on her knee, holding her head still. She had thought these thoughts so frequently that saying them aloud was like unearthing a body. It felt like an excavation, brushing away the dirt and grime from the person who she could have been. It didn't hurt anymore, as she found out. Surprising, it was like collecting the bones and giving a proper burial, respectfully. Behind her, Minerva couldn't help but feel a weight on her chest. Although Hermione couldn't see that green eyes were shedding tears in silence, Minerva's even breathing spoke volumes to the control she was exerting. She continued despite this, and let the release flood her body, freeing her from the most painful experience she had ever faced - rejection.
"By now I thought we'd be married," Minerva's breath caught in her throat, her eyes training themselves on the flat of marred back facing her. "Maybe we'd be thinking of children of our own, but, absolutely… I would have asked you by now to marry me." She had known it for a long time, that was what she had wanted for herself. A career, her wife, a home… Stability. Divorcing who that woman was, with those wants, from who she became had been the goal from the minute she straddled the back of Sirius's bike and rode off into the night, on her own, for the first time in her young life. Even though those wants lingered for a long time, years, she warred with her desires, creating a new want to replace the old, then another, until that fragile, inadequate person wasn't even a passing thought. "When I left, when I realized these silly, adolescent dreams weren't possible, I had to reinvent myself… Even though I would think about it often, what I had craved… There wasn't a place for it anymore, or me - for that matter. So, there it is and here I am. Different."
"I am so sorry…" Closing her eyes, Hermione let herself hear the words and accept them as fact. She felt a hand on her back and she, finally, turned her face to see Minerva's features twisted, the hand that had propped her head covering her eyes, her shoulders shaking. Was it difficult to hear? It had to have been. To know that she had thrown away ten years. Ten years wasted. In Hermione's mind, however, it wasn't truly a waste. Hermione had discovered parts of herself in that time that she would have never discovered if Minerva hadn't made that fateful decision. Partly, even though it had hurt beyond measure, Hermione was grateful. Even if it didn't make sense to anyone but herself.
Hermione reached for the woman and drew her up to sit beside her, the hand on her back lifted and Minerva fully buried her face in both, weeping. Faintly whispered words of apology through sobs, the woman was almost considered hysterical. Hermione could only sit beside her, rub her shoulder, and wait. There was nothing more she could say - Minerva knew that she was loved, knew that she had always been, and now she knew the depth of that feeling, the fact that Hermione had at one point wanted nothing more than a full life. Fingers uncovered reddened emerald eyes which sought Hermione's calm features, features that were lacking concern in the moment which only seemed to upset her more.
"How can you.. be relaxed?" Hiccupped the Headmistress wiping the moisture from her cheeks. A serene smile curled the corners of her lover's lips.
"My darling, we are sitting like two adults talking about our grown up feelings… And our head's are out of our asses. It's progress."
Minerva had to blink away her tears, a deep sigh releasing through the small gaps between the pads of her fingers as she felt the witch beside her press small kisses to her bare shoulder.
"Can you ever truly forgive it… How can you forgive it?" She asked, squeezing her eyes shut tightly to try and stop the creation of more tears. Useless it was to cry for pain that wasn't hers. Yes. She had been heartbroken when Hermione was nowhere to be found, heartbroken by the distance and the not knowing, but it was nothing in comparison. Their stories were very different. She felt the kisses to her shoulder cease, a chin softly placing itself there. Still, she couldn't open her eyes. What she didn't see was chocolate brown gaze tracing her features with such adoration, the fact that Minerva's guilt and sincere hurt over what it was she didn't know, now realized, made it easy to lean toward forgiveness… The Headmistress didn't try to defend her decision of that day, she accepted the wrong. That, in and of itself, was enough.
"Minerva McGonagall… I forgive you, I forgive you because I am so tired of feeling miserable over the things we cannot change, but now we don't have to deal with again… But if you ever… Call me an indulgence or make light of what I want, you can be sure you will never find me." Opening her eyes, bloodshot by crying, Minerva found those of the younger witch peered into their depths… I've indulged - She could remember saying it. It had stuck. How she had regretted saying it.
"I will refer to you only as you wish to be referred…"
"Your partner." Hermione stated without a moments breath. That's what she wanted to be, part of a working, loving, complete partnership. Now that the years had passed, this meant more than marriage. It meant more than a slip of paper recognized by government, it was a vow far deeper and all encompassing, it was a promise that, equally, they would share in life and the joys life had to offer, together, side by side - not one a step behind, or ahead.
"Partner." Thinner lips repeated, forehead meeting forehead gently, as a purple and pinkish hue began to lighten the sky in the picture window behind them.
Distinguishing between late night and early morning, as illumination began to trickle into the room, the women laid back down, facing one and other. Slumber crept upon them both, succumbing to it, they fell asleep nose to nose, arms draped along the gentle slope of side and hips, legs tangled. The warmth of breath on her lips, Hermione found one of the most enticingly relaxing sensations. And for the first time in a long time, not a singular dream to impact her sleep was had. She slept well, as did her lover, and neither moved for the duration.
_~*HGMM*~_
Riding back to Hogwarts that afternoon seemed far less a long trek then it had been flying out to the cottage to begin with. Once they had had their fill of roast beef, dinner rolls, and roast vegetables from the dinner that they had by-passed the night before, the women spent a bit of time exploring Hermione's home. The brunette gathered some old books, some photo albums to share with her lover at one point or another, and then they showered, cleaned and collected their clothes, and prepared for the journey. A strange shaped case was shrunk pocket sized and shoved into Hermione's breast pocket, Minerva didn't ask about it, considering she'd most likely find out soon enough. Instead, she prepared herself to be sat on the back of leather seat, and the vibration of a machine between her legs. Something she was certainly not used to, not necessarily opposed to, but still somewhat apprehensive about. Luckily, it was easy to forget reservations when her cheek was pressed to Hermione's shoulder and the weather was fine.
All the while, Hermione couldn't help but feel as though the journey had been so badly needed. So much had been laid out on the table, accepted, paid proper attention to, that she felt that, at long last, they were finally getting somewhere. If in the future they needed that separation of work and home, her cottage would be the source. Minerva was comfortable there, she was very comfortable there, and it could be their little hide away from the obligation of school and work, prying eyes, and opinion. It was safety. And they needed it. She did, at least.
Returning to Hogwarts felt different. Less chaotic, more settled. When they arrived, Hermione didn't steer her way towards Hagrid's as she'd often done, much to Minerva's curiosity as the woman watched the snow covered grounds shift below to a much cleaner, closer, view of the school. Rather, her lover slowed their speed and guided them around towers and roof, and when appropriate, got them stationary before delicately lowering them down to Minerva's office balcony, a more than adequate space. She cast back a look of question, willing to drop the woman off and return it to where it had been stationed if need be, but Minerva simply let a ghost of a smile play upon her lips. That was acceptance enough. The ebony haired woman wondered if she would ever get used to the slight feeling of jelly knees when she was met with hard stone beneath her boot clad feet after hours clinging to the other witch. It was nothing like a broom that could glide with such fluidity, it was something still so new. Hermione could sense it as she rose from the motorcycle herself, Minerva leaned against the barrier of stone along the edge of her balcony, steadying herself. When Hermione neared, a gloved hand found the front of her leather jacket and laid there, slipping to shoulder as nearer she drew to press a kiss to her lover's lips. Her own gloved hand gently found Minerva's denim wearing hip. As they parted, eyeing one another with renewed appreciation, tenderness, and affection, Hermione let her arm loop around the woman's lower back as she felt the weight of an arm drape across her shoulders. Briefly, they discussed tea.
Hermione bit the inside corner of her mouth as they walked in step into Minerva's office, passed knick-knacks and her desk. She suggested the staff room, a small night cap, and then bed. Minerva didn't think anything of it, agreeing almost immediately because… Why not? It wasn't uncommon. In the back of Hermione's mind, the little annoying thoughts began to rise to the surface. By now, they could have all known. If Augustine couldn't keep her big mouth shut, everyone could have been made privy. It was bothersome, and she hated that someone had that sort of hold and power. Something to lord over her, if need be. The ginger woman had it. And that simply wasn't going to do. She had to know once and for all if Rolanda had managed to talk some sense, or whether the cover was blown. Meanwhile, Minerva remained blissfully unaware, which was fine.
By the time the women reached the corridor leading from the Headmistress's office, Hermione was leading onward, with the ebony haired woman keeping stride beside her. They idly chatted and unbuttoned or unzipped their coats, passed students as it was only late evening and before curfew, offering smiles and waves to those who addressed them in passing. Hermione detected nothing unusual, no whispers or side glances that seemed suspicious, at which she took great delight. Paranoid as she might have been, the last thing she wanted was to lose respect with her students. And although she doubted she would, it was still a thought that drifted in and out. As proficient a teacher as Augustine was, the students responded to her differently. They were more reserved. Less willing to make mistakes, ask questions, and Hermione felt this. She saw it. And it filled her with hope.
Reaching the faculty lounge, Hermione reached for the doorknob and twisted, opening the door so that the Headmistress could pass through before her, an act that produced the reward of a curl of lips and a softly spoken thank you.
The women entered together and strolled to where the party of professors was gathered, seated in various places but clearly caught in enthralling conversations, quite a few of them, in fact. Again, Hermione thought, nothing out of the ordinary. When their presence became apparent, they were ushered to sit and join in, which Minerva did, although Hermione stood beside the leather chair of Minerva's choosing as the ebony haired woman sat down and began taking off her gloves.
"Ladies! Where have you two been, you look like you've been out for a long walk, is it very chilly out?" Filius, who was clearly already half in the bag, puffed on his long pipe and wiggled in his seat until he was sitting on its edge. His watery eyes blinked from face to face. Before either witch had the opportunity to answer, another voice pierced the calm atmosphere.
"Is it cold out… It's bloody middle of Winter, little man… Of course it's frigid," Pomona's thick voice rose, as did the woman, who brushed past Hermione, but not without giving her elbow a squeeze. "Tea and whiskey?"
"Two, please." Hermione replied through a crooked little smile, removing her leather riding gloves.
As Sybill and Poppy carried on their own little conversation by the fire, Augustine and her assistant sitting in the corner carried on their own, Filius, Septima, and Pomona addressed the new arrivals.
"Are you going to take a seat, Hermione?" The fluid, deep tones of Professor Vector reached her, and she turned her head slightly to look at the Arithmancy professor.
"Yes, I guess, I will…, " Her own voice caught the attention of the ginger woman across the room who glanced in her direction briefly, but didn't linger. They met gaze, nothing more. Clearly affected, the ginger woman straightened but continued her own discussion, as though she hadn't just met Hermione's eye. Evidently, Rolanda, where ever she was, had managed. "Has Rolanda been by?"
"She's coming, she had a Chaser sprain an ankle, poor lad… Didn't look good at all." Pomona stated as she appeared at Hermione's side, offering Minerva and the brunette their steaming tea cups. Hermione remained standing.
"Ah, good…" Hermione found herself saying, lifting her cup to her lips. Catching a look from her lover, Minerva's eyes discretely glanced from the cup in her hand to her eyes, a brow raising. Hermione just gave her a reassuring look. A little bit of whiskey she could take… Hard liquor, on its own, no, she could not. One drink. That was all. That's what she told herself and she believed it. She had no reason to doubt her own judgement.
Sipping her hot drink, she stood and waited for the feeling of the long ride to rid itself from her legs. One leg in particular. It didn't take long for the conversation to turn to the upcoming dance and the festivities of Christmas. Despite Hermione's distaste for the holiday, she couldn't help but smile and nod along with the joy speaking of the break produced from her colleagues. Minerva asked what their plans were, what their hopes were for the brief hiatus, and discussed her own consideration of briefly venturing to her manor, the family home, and a place Hermione had yet to see. When she, herself, was asked about the break, she felt her shoulders shrug, an absent smile still playing upon her lips. Although she was sure that Minerva would ask for her company, it wasn't as though she could admit to it… Although standing that short distance from her lover and to not touch her, even a touch as tasteful or fleeting as a light resting of hand on her shoulder, never had it bothered her as much as it was beginning to in that moment.
"Alright sods! Where's the liquor!" Familiar, a voice filled the room and heads turned to see a silver haired witch tuck herself into the lounge quickly. Hooch turned to see Hermione and Minerva, but her eyes fell more so upon the younger witch as she strolled to greet them.
"How's the student, Rolanda?" Minerva asked, cradling her tea. Rolanda sighed, hand lifting to her forehead as her other rested upon her hip.
"Stevens landed a little too rough, too much adrenaline I think, he'll be right as rain in a week or two," She replied, eyeing Hermione's tea. "That seems like a good idea, mind giving me a hand, Granger?"
"Of course, not." Hermione stated smoothly, turning with the yellow eyed woman towards the beverage bar along the wall. She felt an arm link around her own, and eyes on their backs, as they wandered away from the increasingly loud conversation. She eyed her friend's face with a look of subtle pondering as the distance grew.
"I don't trust her," Rolanda whispered as they reached the edge of the counter, warranting a narrowed look from the brunette who began to grab a glass and ice to fill it, the silver haired woman reaching over her for the bottle of firewhiskey. "I managed to convince her not to say anything, but I would make a move before you give her one more reason to be a little bitch. I sense it's coming." Yellow eyes met her own narrowed ones, giving a look that was both warning and telling.
"I very much so appreciate you trying…" Knowing that Rolanda had done all she could, and that it may not be enough, Hermione felt a tension grip the muscles of her shoulders. After the Flying Instructor filled her glass, Hermione took it from the counter and lifted it to her lips, seeing confusion write itself there upon her friend's face. She took a deep pull of the liquid and found her throat wasn't as practiced as it had been those months ago, the taste causing her face to screw itself up in a look of slight disgust and pain. "I used to drink this like water.. How did I used to drink this like water…"
"You alright there, Granger?" Concern was evident in the question, and Hermione answered it with a nod and a shiver, her stomach burning.
"I'm fine, I'm good." Taking up her tea, Hermione turned herself and gazed at the room - Minerva carried on her talk, Sybill and Poppy looked like they were debating heatedly enough to start boxing one another, Filius was puffing away as would a chimney, and the woman sat off to the side with her own company, seemingly too good to join in with the rest of them. For the most part, all were present except for only a few. With warmth in her belly and alcohol sending signals to her brain, the young woman ventured back with the silver haired woman following closely behind, drink in hand. Awkwardly, Hermione paused where she had been stationed beside Minerva's chair, gazing down at her lover briefly.
"I am more than happy to manage decorations for the Great Hall, I've whipped up some brilliant new little designs, I cannot wait to show them…" She heard Filius state, watching as Minerva gave a nod and smile of contentment. Clearing her throat gently, emerald eyes rose to see what was calling Hermione's attention. With eyes upon the young woman, not only those of green at which she was peering, the youngest professor gave a brief gesture for Minerva to move her drapped arm from where it rested on the armrest of her chair. Minerva obliged, but not without a short look of questioning.
"I'm sure they will be marvelous, they certainly used to be," Hermione addressed the tickled Charms professor as she seated herself down upon the place she had spied, next the Headmistress and perched on the spot her arm had been. "Won't they, darling…" Stunned, Minerva didn't react. Not even when Hermione leaned and pressed a delicate kiss to her temple, eliciting a none too quiet, high pitched squeak followed by an exceptionally dramatic gasp. Two sounds which caught the attention of anyone attempting to carry on their personal business beyond them. Pulling back with a casual air, Hermione lifted her tea cup to her lips and took a sip, exuding nonchalance in spite of her racing heart. An abrupt laugh filled the silence and Hermione shot her amused friend a look, the sound of hearing an obnoxious BAHAHAHAHA out of nowhere causing a crooked smirk to curl the corner of her lips while Rolanda clutched the robes at her chest and threw her head back.
"But you… And-and-and YOU…" One of Pomona's stubby fingers pointed, outstretched. Minerva was speechless, all she could do was stare at the side of Hermione's face, perplexed.
"I know, just… Try not to picture it, will you?" It wasn't a denial, nor your typical affirmative statement, but it was something. The snickering those few feet away continued. Meanwhile, brown eyes caught sight of blue, a look was passed between the two young women, not going unnoticed. The author rose abruptly from her seat and snapped her fingers at the fragile looking brunette she was with, and the women made their way to the door. After the departure, Hermione cast a glance down at the ebony haired witch beside her, the image of astonishment, confusion, and something else burning into her mind. Freeing herself from bewilderment, Minerva's head turned back to her staff and she reacquainted herself with reality, finding pairs of eyes resting upon her and expressions of shock and disbelief. She cleared her throat softly and sipped her tea, adorning herself with a brand of nonchalance all her own, peering back over the rim of her cup.
"Surprise." She murmured, a none too typical affirmation of her own parting her lips. How on earth was she going to explain this one?
TBC...