Chapter 33

Incredible, all consuming, undeniably delicious - these were all thoughts that pooled in her mind as this beautiful, powerful, brilliant woman pumped her fingers deeply within, all Hermione could do was hold on for dear life, one hand gripping at the back of Minerva's neck while the other held tightly to the edge of the work table she'd been so sat upon. This woman's mouth was sweet, her tongue sweeter, and the moaning that rose in the back of the ebony haired woman's throat at the feel of tightness embracing her digits was swallowed by the witch she was fucking mercilessly. So fast that it was unspoken, they fit perfectly. The contours of Minerva's body felt right, a missing puzzle piece, and with the woman holding tightly to that form she felt one with. Control was lost, what was gained was relief, and when Hermione came against her hand, her knees squeezing at Minerva's hips as the young woman nearly collapsed backward, Minerva felt herself become sated. The young witch whimpered, begged, ordered her not to stop, cried her name to the heaven's, and she felt complete. Completely lost… Until their eyes met and her fingers stilled, the clenching of muscles fading.

What had she done?

Breathing heavily, the women looked at one another. Hermione's flushed features glowing due to the sensations coursing through her body. This woman… This woman was a student. The Headmistress felt the world start to close in, her chest rising and falling ever more quickly. She shook. Everything that a professor shouldn't do, she had done. All in a blink of an eye, her career, her livelihood, hung in the balance, for a second of freedom.

"Miss. Granger…" Stunned emerald eyes looked upon her face as though seeing it for the first time, Hermione's irregular breathing hitched. It was like watching the portal to Diagon Alley behind the Leaky Cauldron close, the older woman was reeling back into herself, closing off brick by swinging brick. Panicked, trembling hands, sore by how fiercely they had been clinging, rose to Minerva's face and held in her hands the woman so that she could remain peering into her brown eyes.

"Minerva, don't… Look at me, stay with me, please." Painfully slow, fingers withdrew from her aching sex and caused a fractional grimace to cloud Hermione's tanned features, just a moment, then was replaced with a calmness. A sincerity that could only be mustered while the panic was forcibly pushed aside. She knew this woman. Her conviction and her responsibility, she adored her for it. But now wasn't the time.

"I should never have… I'm so sorry." The fear in the young woman's mind was displayed so clearly on the features opposite her own, the smell of sex still hanging in the air. She had been taken by force and she loved every moment, she had wanted it, and here lay the apology for something she had been silently praying for months to achieve, to be made love to by the woman who she adored so. Of course, she hadn't expected it to be while still in uniform but evidently Minerva had wanted it badly. Badly enough to remain in her teaching robes and to bypass the hem of her skirt. Now the hands were gone, but the woman remained between her knees, disheveled and nearing tears. Hermione wouldn't have it.

"If you apologize for this, I will have to apologize for so much more, please… Don't make me do that." She stated, stroking the woman's cheeks with her thumbs, watching the clouded look pass over Minerva's features. They had meant to be working, rebuilding… Trusting each other. Every barrier had been crossed and left the realization that this was an instance of teacher/student complication, but it was so hard to see Hermione as a student, when she was a warrior. A beautiful, strong, intellectually equipped woman who was now seated on the edge of her table after… It was supposed to be a kiss. It should have stopped at the kiss, but her own desire made it so much worse.

"This shouldn't have happened, Miss. Granger." Unimaginable pain flooded the young woman as her would be lover vacated the spot between her thighs and created distance, turning her back and taking steps away, further, until the older witch leaned against her bookcase and averted her gaze to the kitchen. Hermione couldn't see her face, but knew she was trying so hard to remain stoic. That was who Minerva was. In control, at all times, of everything and everyone. Except for those precious minutes.

If Hermione had been younger, less world weary, more adolescent, and not have had the opportunity to grow into herself by way of war and study, she would have run crying. Dejected and rejected. This was not a rejection, this was Minerva working through her own feelings of what had happened, still, nothing could hide the truth that when brown eyes met emerald those moments ago, she could see the unadulterated joy, the emotion behind the act, that passion she so craved, reflected back at her upon that woman's face. Nothing could mar that image imprinted upon her mind, and so regret was not so easy to make its mark. Slipping from the edge of the table, regaining her legs that burned with exercise that she hadn't been prepared for, the brunette glanced briefly at her discarded sweater and tie. It used to feel like armor, yet, in this moment, it was an anchor pulling her further into nothingness.

A test to make sure…

"I'm not worth a moment of your time afterward?" Hermione ventured to ask softly, wondering and praying if another rise would be what it took the bring the woman to her senses. Delicate wording, not meant to manipulate but to gauge, if what she had seen in Minerva's eyes was true… Or only true in that moment. She watched as Minerva's head snapped back in her direction, confusion mixed with… Anger?

"What on earth are you talking about, Miss…"

"Well," Hermione cut her off. "It's not exactly ideal to be made love to and then just… relieved of my duties." She could feel the woman's eyes burning into her figure, watching her closely. What began as a gentle nudge, as much as she hated to admit it, began to fuel her insecurity. With the suddenness of a strike of lightning, Hermione's mind began to formulate so many possibilities, the many that she'd mulled over before she ever had the opportunity to make her attraction known, which she had now sufficiently done. She had thought this far… It was all in wondering what the outcome would be, now that it was here, uncertainty rose.

All the while, the other woman watched her collecting her sweater, tie, and book bag, rooted to the spot. Minerva could hardly believe what had transpired, nevermind the rest? A large majority wanted to to scoop the woman up and take her away, feel the same thing she had felt when the world stopped for those minutes and she allowed herself the gift of making her heart's desire known - she had always held this individual close. Age, lifestyle, obligation be damned… Since the war had ended and she had returned, all Minerva saw was a woman who captivated her mind and soul. But, like so many great tragic love stories, it simply could not be. Of course, when Hermione parted her lips once more, it made the emerald eyed woman question everything once more.

"After last year, I thought you'd know me better… I commit to nothing without considering all variables, every route, and although I knew this was possible, that you'd tell me off or… Maybe you don't actually feel for me like I do you, I didn't think I'd actually lose you after finally having you in my arms so quickly." The young woman murmured, bent over to fold her things and pack then away in her bag, taking up her wand in her hand. Finally, she turned her gaze upon the woman standing by the bookshelf, unreadable eyes aimed back.

"Why are we doing this… You know that it's impossible, don't you?" A whisper. Tanned hands stilled and Hermione straightened, slowly. Her heartbeat picked up pace, realizing that anything, something, was better than the nothing she had expected to guide her out the door. Anything at all was better than the disappointed silence. Minerva's arms wrapped themselves around herself, as thought holding herself tightly together under the gaze which she returned. Tentatively, the brunette approached, tilting her face to give a slight side eye in question. Too near? Not near enough? Minerva remained standing as she had, her gaze imploring, unshed tears lingering on eyelashes. She did nothing to indicate whether the closing distance was wanted or unwanted, so the younger woman only came to a halt within a few feet, resting on the edge of the couch back across from the ebony haired witch, her hands resting at her hips on either side.

"Impossible… I thought fighting Voldemort and winning was 'impossible', that surviving a year without the safety of Hogwarts, friends and family, was 'impossible', while Dumbledore sent us off on what could have been a death mission," Softly spoken words, to which Minerva listened, came as a rather unusual surprise - she could feel more coming but was she ready for it, to fight her on her points? As she should do... "But we won, we survived, and then I realized… Now that it's over, what did we fight for if not to have a future - I can actually be who and what I want to be, be with who I want, dream as I want… And I realized I felt connected to a woman, just one person, who makes every horrible thing that's ever happened in these past years fade into the background when I'm with her, makes me want to be better, who raises me up, and sees me for exactly who I am without questioning it, and I adore her. I don't want to lose her yet, when I've just had her, and she's had me."

"Hermione…" Declarations such as these were not an expected outcome for Minerva, she gazed at the serene, sincere features of the younger woman who raised a hand to stop her from speaking, while the words she had formulated still laid foundations in her mind. It rocked her to the core. How was it even possible? Hermione averted her gaze to the bookshelf beyond Minerva's shoulder briefly, gathering herself, taking just a moment to fill her reserves of resolve in order to commit to the truth of the current matter. Their individual positions… Made things complicated.

"I understand your position, Headmistress… And you understand mine, but you need to know me enough by now to know I would never jeopardize us in any way… Not even if you tell me now that what just happened was nothing to you, and that you just needed to scratch an itch with me, I won't tell a soul, even if it hurts… But if you feel anything for me at all, please, tell me… Let me prove to you I can be the person that fills your days with the same giddy, happy, unimaginable pleasure you give to me just by being around, reading a book, having tea, in silence or with your amazing conversational skills and debates… Together we fit." Eyes bounced back to lock on Minerva's to see tears freely spilling onto cheeks, the corner of her mouth twitching into a small smile. If anything, she knew how this woman appreciated earnestness. And earnest she had been. Minerva was a romantic. It took everything within the brunette not to near and wipe those tears with the cuff of her sleeve, but she remained until permission was granted.

"No one can know… Even after graduation it would be… Difficult to explain." Minerva stated at long last.

Acceptance. Hermione sighed deeply, relief flooding her veins as she rose from the couch and neared the woman at long last. Without further hesitation, she wrapped her arms around the woman's waist and felt arms wrap around her shoulders, holding to with closeness, tightness. As Hermione tucked her face against the side of the woman's neck, Minerva's gaze rose to the ceiling. How could she deny this woman? Push her away? She should have… She couldn't. And feeling this, a true embrace, made it harder to even entertain the thought. Everything she felt was displayed in the words Hermione had used, their chemistry, the friendship they shared, as wrong as it was in the eyes of the world… After everything they had been through, they deserved pockets of happiness, they'd earned it… And trust, Minerva trusted Hermione immeasurably.

"I would rather no one know, and have this… Then for a soul to know and never be able to do this again," She heard Hermione murmur against her skin. "No one will ever know."

_~*HGMM*~_

This was her personal hell; the justification.

Minerva sat ramrod straight with her lover on the arm of her chair, her hand held tightly, anchoring her, whereas otherwise she would have wanted to flee.

The bombardment… The pair of witches hardly had the opportunity to cut a word in edgewise. They glanced at one another as the speculations, assessments, indignant questioning, filled the air between them. By then, Poppy and Sybill had edged closer to invest themselves in the new improvements that came to light, joining with Pomona, mostly, who was flabbergasted to say the least.

"But you hardly even like each other, you can't stand one another…"

"The age… Her age, Minerva!"

"We are shocked, entirely shocked…"

Meanwhile, tears streamed down Filius's puffy cheeks, and large drunken blue eyes peered up at the round woman beside him, his pipe forgotten but gripped tightly. He sniffed. Hermione couldn't help but see him as a well dressed adult toddler, her brow furrowed and she bit her lips, trying not to laugh at the poor sod. Rolanda, however, did the giggling for her. Not going unnoticed by Poppy who eyed her with suspicion.

"I'm confused." He mumbled tremulously as Pomona gave his cheek a small pat.

"And here I thought things would go smoothly." Hermione heard Minerva mutter as the woman placed her tea down, no longer wanting it, on the side table opposite to where the brunette was perched.

"Nothing has ever gone smoothly with me, darling." Brown eyes met green and the women passed a look between them.

"When did it happen?"

"This time or the first time?" Hermione replied with a sigh, angling a wary eye at Sybill. If the eyes she was met with weren't already magnified by the thick specs on the bridge of her nose, Hermione thought they might have rolled out of her head.

"Minerva… There was a first time?" Aiming her questioning toward the tight lipped Headmistress, Poppy stared at her friend with confusion and concern. Through the years, she had never been given a single shred of indication that there had been a singular soul on this earth, besides Augustine, who was a piss poor choice, that Minerva held any affection for. The disruption in the infirmary now struck her as an instance. Being fought against just so Minerva could be close to the woman at her side, now, she understood was not simply because of being the beloved Head of House, Hermione's esteemed mentor, and obligated by business. She should have seen it.

"The scandal…" Sybill shook her head, unable to wrap her enlightened mind around it. This caught Hermione and before Minerva could make a move to finally say a word to defend, she felt the hand holding hers tighten immeasurably. Embers in flecked chocolate brown orbs blossomed into a full blown fire as she stared at the faces of her colleagues.

"See… This is exactly why I wanted not to tell anyone, after what had happened with Augustine and having to deal with that mess for the past few weeks here, shame on all of you for being so damn bewildered about something as simple and unobstructive as two people, your colleagues, embarking on nothing more than a most earnest romantic relationship," Her voice deepened immeasurably, disappointment sharpening crisp syllables into thin blades. "Yes, now it seems odd… It's odd because when we last parted it wasn't on good terms, because I…" She felt herself get sucked in, bricks starting to get laid, a wall building. How much information was too much information? Sensing Hermione's roadblock, Minerva picked up where she ended.

"She hadn't graduated yet," Softly, Minerva filled in the blank, addressing their stunned friends. "I told her it was an adolescent nothing and that it was best to leave it be, but it wasn't that at all… And, now, our situation is very different, so… That is that, then."

"The girl was heartbroken, hence showing up quite the haughty bitch. As I'm sure you all remember this last summer." Rolanda seemed to sober, interjecting to the surprise of the small grouping of people, eyes turned upon the silver haired woman who sat defensively, at the ready to shield the brunette at the sign of her discomfort. They were supposed to be among family. That was the point. Even she was growing rather hot under the collar by how the news was being received.

"But you graduated almost nine years ago now…" Finding his voice, Filius turned sights to the young witch with wonder filled eyes.

"Tell me," Leaning forward minutely to address the Charms professor solely, the only one, at that point, who seemed the least aggressive with their question as Filius was all heart, a lot of intellect, but an emotional man; not to mention, one of Minerva's closest companions. "Does Minerva really strike you as a woman one could get over in ten years' time?" His watery eyes fell upon green, to Minerva who sat almost poker straight. He could see it there, she hid the hurt well but not well enough.

"No," A little smile graced his moustached face. "No, she's not a woman one easily forgets." Leaning back into straightened posture, Hermione's gaze narrowed at the woman. She set her jaw, her attention piqued.

"Now, you all know, and the only reason you do is because so does Augustine, and seeing as she has a habit of telling people things that shouldn't be anyone's business, I had to do something before she went around and blabbed… Otherwise we would have navigated this quietly and too ourselves, because I was so damn afraid of having to sit here and go through exactly what I thought I was going to have to - your judgement and your questioning about something that should have been considered a fucking wondrous thing - if not for me, then for her," Lifting from the arm of Minerva's chair, she cast a glance down at the Headmistress, the corners of her lips twitching. Minerva couldn't tell if she was going to laugh or cry. "Shall we go to bed, busy day tomorrow."

Wordlessly, the ebony haired woman rose and grabbed her gloves, leaving her half drunk cup of tea on the side table without a second thought. The want to escape was so very real. Hand in hand, the lover's left the group of women - the women that were eyeing one another with some shame and discomfort -, and Filius. It hadn't been taken well. And for a woman like Minerva McGonagall, who had done so much and had little care to obtain for herself the most human of needs, the realization was beginning to set in that the level of disrespect they had depicted through the shock would be enough to deeply unimpress and hurt their most revered leader.

Once the women left, their departure sounding with a snapping of a closed door. The silver haired woman leaned forward in her chair and planted her elbows on her knees, shaking her head.

"You owe them both many apologies… Except for Flitwick, you were fine." She met his drunken eyes and he grinned, whilst the women behind him glanced at one another.

_~*HGMM*~_

The news spread quickly.

Hermione had expected that much. Nothing ever stayed secret for very long at Hogwarts. In the meanwhile, the women tended to their work as though nothing had happened. They went to bed that night, Minerva being more upset than she was, they briefly discussed it, but Hermione remained vigilant in her perceptions that it was merely the shock, nothing more and nothing less.

Unlike before, now that anyone who was anyone knew, the women found themselves easing into standing nearer, touching on occasion, small parting or greeting kisses shared no matter the prying eyes. In front of the students, they remained as they always had been, however, in the staffroom, parting at their quarters in the morning, none of that mattered. The whispers were deafening, however, Hermione found herself thinking Damn them. And that was so freeing. The author stayed her distance at long last, and Hermione was thankful. They taught well together, but the conversation about pursuing one Miss. McGonagall had finally ended, and now work was all it was. That little bit of personal interaction that Hermione had no interest in vanished. Daily life began to feel somewhat normal again.

With the Christmas Ball less than two days away, and the students growing more unruly with each passing hour, Hermione found, regardless of this new more relaxed existence, she was growing more aware of the upcoming dance. The kids looked at it as a well deserved break, but she didn't want the break, no matter how it was deserved, she wanted to work. To teach. To regain her balance. Unsettled, almost perturbed by it, she threw herself further into marking and researching for the next year when, undoubtedly, she'd make some modifications to her lesson plans.

This evening was no different. Augustine took her leave for dinner without a parting word, leaving Hermione to revise while darkness settled over the grounds outside the windows, a heavy snow falling and further burying what had been lush and green. Hermione's thoughts drifted to Remus, she considered him so often more recently, how she missed that man. He had been the marker, the unattainable goal of greatness - if she could become half the teacher he had been when he was alive… Her place would be solidified. With the scratching of quill against parchment, books strewn to various open pages, the woman worked and lulled herself into an easy rhythm. She didn't notice the door open minutely or a figure tuck itself inside, so quiet, until footsteps began to make their presence known.

Lifting her head, her brown eyes fell upon the unexpected visitor and her brow arched. Poppy looked uncomfortable, stiff. Resting back in her seat, Hermione dropped her quill into her ink.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Madame Pomfrey?" She greeted, tonelessly. The blue eyed woman took pause, although she recovered and summoned a chair to seat herself down upon.

"How's your leg, Professor?" A question with a question. Eyeing the medi-witch delicately, the brunette's hand instinctively fell upon her own thigh and rubbed the muscle, the faint feeling of topographical scars felt through fabric.

"Sore, but not bad… It's getting easier week by week." She answered, drawing her hand back and up to fold with its other on the flat of her desk.

"I'm glad to hear that." Acknowledged the other woman before falling silent. They peered at each other. Hermione could see that Poppy was with want to say something, the cogs were spinning and trying to catch. Luckily, she had approached Hermione when she was most patient. Although, when the quiet became so strange, she parted her lips to speak.

"I came to apologize…"

"How else can I help you… Oh," Bristling, Poppy shifted in her seat, her folded hands clutching. "Whatever for Poppy?" Oh, how Hermione would have bottled that level of discomfort radiating off the older woman, it flowed like a wave, rippling the air, like far rings after a pebble had been dropped in a still pond.

"Last weekend was a surprise to us all… We've been discussing it at great length…" The woman stated, garnering a slight tilt of the head of the younger witch before her.

"Discussing it at great length… Intriguing… Well, I accept your apology." Succinct, simple, what more could be said from her end than that. This seemed to jar the older woman. Whether she expected it to be easy or not, a quick dismissal wasn't on her agenda so she pressed on.

"Miss. Granger… Hermione, it was very wrong of us to react in that way, something you said… It is wonderous news, it's been a very long time since Minerva has found anything akin to romance in her life, after Augustine and the utter lack of propriety on that woman's part, we doubted she'd find it again…"

As much as Hermione was pleased to know that no further arguments were on the table to further thwart the newly budded relationship, she hadn't been the one so badly affected by it.

"I have to stop you, Poppy," Hermione rose from her chair and slowly angled, venturing to sit on the front edge of her desk in front of the woman, a sigh parting her lips. "Believe me… I'm well aware of who Minerva is, how she works, and although I do greatly appreciate your apology… I'm not the one you should be apologizing to - and I think you know that." Brown eyes met blue and watched as the older woman averted her gaze momentarily to her own hands.

"She holds you and her staff in such high esteem, here… We're a strange, dysfunctional little family of brilliantly capable people, caregivers, and… As such, we have histories and rapport, I'm the new one, but you've all known her for years… She was so hurt… I expected the difficulty, she didn't. She's an optimist." Caring and thoughtful, regardless of what masks Hermione chose to wear on any other given day, it was hard not to express the earnest affection for the woman who she held so closely. Poppy cleared her throat, glancing up from her hands.

"I know, she's a romantic… Augustine didn't quite feel right with us, what she had done, I don't think I've seen Minerva that furious since… I think that was partly what made a rise in me, half expected that she would be furious again with how it came out, but then I remind myself that you are a very different woman than Miss. Blanchet, you and Minerva are very similar." Hermione gave a short nod, in the background she was building confidence, a questioning of her own sitting on the tip of her tongue.

"Poppy, you remember when we were eating dinner that one night, and you asked me if I'd ever considered healing? Now that things have advanced so far?" Hermione asked as she raised a hand to her cheek, feeling the deep lines beneath her fingertips there. The Medi-witch, glad to finally be freed of the prior conversation rose and stepped to the young professor, her delicate fingers lifting to turn Hermione's face and tilt it. Blue eyes scanned the scars cutting through cheek, years of untreated healing stitching the skin together, but inspected the few other nicks and scratches.

"You know, I really do believe we could remove these if you wanted… I can't say that there won't be little marks in the eyebrow, but I think we could manage the rest, it'd take a couple hours at most."

"Let's do it, then…" It was decided. She was ready.

"Tonight?"

"No… Before the ball?" Answered Hermione, feeling the fingertips leave her chin. Poppy pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded.

"I think we can." She wondered why now. Being so adverse to the initial ideas those months ago, now asking for it. She imagined Minerva had something to do with it, but the emerald eyed witch had never been one to care for physical abnormalities, even with them… Hermione could never be considered anything but a stunning woman. A little rougher around the edges, but stunning nonetheless.

"Thank you," The brunette replied, briefly touching Poppy's elbow while rising to stand from her leaning to grab her wand and bookbag. "Now, I think I'm late for dinner, accompany me on the walk?" With the rest remaining unsaid, and leaving the day's work behind, the women began walking down the center aisle. Finally, Poppy seemed to loosen up a bit, they discussed the procedure, if one could even call it that - being more like a slathering of ointments and a few carefully selected spells -, and strolled down corridors toward the Great Hall. Hermione expressed her wish to maintain this between them two, solely, in case of any mishaps, despite being assured that nothing of the sort would occur. Even though she was unsure of how well received it would be, it was a surprise. Something that had been playing upon her mind since being made aware of the prior engagements Minerva had had in her absence. The more she sat in the company of the ginger woman, the less she wore the pride having etched skin had given way to before the knowing.

Change was good. Needed, maybe.

_~*HGMM*~_

A small piece of unseen lint was brushed from her form fitted skirt, two hands loosely clasped then rested on the woman's lap. Minerva scanned the mildly irritated witch with a weary eye and continued to lay out the plan of the next two months.

"I think that it would be reasonable to consider the end of February to be ample time for Professor Granger to be capable of continuation without assistance," Ruby lips pursed, a short hum sounding behind them. "We do greatly appreciate your assistance in these times, you've been… Very accommodating to us."

"Accommodating to you, McGonagall… I vazn't avare zer vas an us." Sniffed the woman, warranting a hardened glance from the Headmistress.

"The students, Miss. Blanchett - I was referring to us as the school itself? The reason why you're here?" The air crackled with discontent, if it wasn't already uncomfortable enough.

"I hadn't come for ze students, und now I realize zat my vasted talents mean little to you." Blue eyes flashed, porcelain features wore discontent with ease and a slightly raised chin, almost petulant, punctuated statement that couldn't be taken any other way. Minerva sighed deeply, peering at the woman, utterly exhausted by the attitude.

"It was a tryst, I made myself very clear…"

"A mere tryst, my love, doesn't last more zan two years… A tryst is a moment, a fractional breath of a moment, two years is a relationship… I had exhausted my last reserves and ven it became clear you vere too afraid to make mention of me… ME!" The woman's voice rose, almost shouting it, as she rose from her seat, heels clicking to the front edge of Minerva's tall desk. "Look at me, anyvon vould be lucky to have me in zer bed every damn night, and you… You shirked integrity."

"It wasn't a relationship to me, Augustine," The temperature in the room dropped, stern green pools filled with disdain locked onto blue. The woman standing there in front of her seemed only to be made more angry by the admission, regardless, the Headmistress pressed on. "There's nothing more to say on the matter, what's done is done, and now we move forward… I have no interest in entertaining a thought of an old flame sweeping me off my feet, I've been already swept, and you will find in time that we were not a fit."

"Ve'll have to see, as far as I'm avare, your fit knows only one side of ze story," Minerva paled. "And by zeez comments she makes about my abnormally large mouth… I have to azzume zat all she has 'eard paints me in a light zat you shine… And ve both know zat isn't entirely true… Now is it." Rising from her own chair, Minerva leaned forward, her palms resting on the flat of her desk as she eyed the red headed witch. Augustine stood aloof, her arms folding across her silken blouse clad chest, manicured brows lifting to display a challenging look about face.

"What's done is done, neither of you have been too kind with one and other… So even if you tried, I hold doubt she will take your word… And if your only aim is to tarnish my image with Hermione, believe me… It's tarnished enough, she's well aware of my imperfections, far more than you will ever realize." A low growl was reward for the clear threat that had been posed. Unaffected, the other woman gave a small, short, hum.

"You played me like the vorlds smallest violin, Minerva… I don't enjoy being played with, not like zat anyvay… So, vat I choose is vat I choose," The woman stepped down and away from Minerva's desk, swaying as she was so inclined to do to take up her dinner jacket from the back of the chair where she had been, stopping there, she half turned to see a positively seething Headmistress. She paused. "I do hope you have a pleasant night."

With that, the woman left, leaving Minerva to silently seethe and sit back down in her chair. Augustine was bluffing. She had to have been. It was all just a ploy to take out whatever vengeance she so pleased and for the time Minerva truly regretted what had transpired between them. When loneliness had driven her to take up a daliance, it never ended well. Tapping her nail on the lacquer of her desk top, Minerva's gaze cast itself off, not really focusing on anything at all, as she considered the events of the week. With the ball just around the corner and preparations underway, she thanked some unnamed god for the ability to take some time off and away from Hogwarts. Nothing but the quiet moments with her lover felt easy. Her faculty was acting strangely, Augustine remained an irritant, she could hardly get any of her own work done because her mind was racing, and Hermione was the only person capable of settling her thoughts. But Hermione couldn't be around all the time with her own responsibilities. She prayed the rest would blow over and they could settle into comfort once again, as they had once before. With that in mind, she rose and ignored the pile of parchments calling her name on the corner of her desk and retired to her quarters to rest, tomorrow would always be a better day.

TBC...