Chapter 39: Christmas with The Weasley's Part 1
Christmas was meant to be a time for family, chosen family, to share in the joy of being present with one another, and begin the journey on to a new year. Although gifts had been purchased, wrapped neatly and hidden away, it wasn't about the material things that children often associated with the holiday; it was about getting together, enjoying each others company, getting stuffed on good food and drink, which, truthfully, Hermione had almost forgotten over the past few years.
Laying in the early morning hours, she listened to her wife's heartbeat, her ear pressed against the witch's chest as the night before the woman had managed to fall soundly asleep beneath her. The snow was falling heavy out the window. Hermione watched it as the moonlight reflected off the world beyond their bedroom window. Large, fluffy flakes made their descent over the tops of trees and the property, further blanketing it in white. She wanted to shed a tear because, in the stillness, with the only sounds being that of her lover's slumbering breath, her beating heart, she was content. It was beautiful. Such beauty, she had thought, would be evasive. Yet, there, she found it again. It was this feeling that made her slowly lift her head and gaze through the darkness at the outline of Minerva's face. Brown eyes scanned angular features, memorizing every slight curve, every line, she looked serene. Breathtaking. It was nearly painful how beautiful she was. The young woman couldn't help herself but to let her eyes linger on the womans' lips. She wanted so badly to kiss her, to ring in the morning with tenderness and affection, although a tug at her stomach told her she wanted more. So much more.
Carefully, slowly, Hermione shifted between her lover's legs and watched as her wife didn't even stir, still quite asleep, much to her delight. Her lips finally made contact with skin and pressed a featherlight kiss to the place between her breasts, eyes trained upward, to investigate for any change in breathing or alertness. She found nothing. If anything could be said, Minerva had become a much more sound sleeper the longer they had shared the same bed. It must have been her own level of comfort rising steadily. Focused and quietly determined, Hermione crept painfully slow downward along her wife's body, watching and waiting, her lips pressing soft kisses down her flat stomach until she reached navel. It was then that Minerva slightly moved, as did the woman beginning to settle between her parted legs, however, Minerva seemed only to cover her eyes with her arm and sigh, with no real recognition of the position she was in or the desire she was eliciting in her young wife. When the scent of musky sweetness infiltrated Hermione's nostrils, she couldn't help but to allow the corners of her lips to upturn into a smile. Whether the older woman wanted it or not, she was mere seconds away from being had. Which, as Hermione had discovered, was one of her favorite surprises to inflict upon the unsuspecting, slumbering woman, to wake her by means of love making. She had loved it years ago, and loved it in that moment, if not more considering the ring fitted snug around her finger. She would gladly have this very moment repeated for the rest of her life, if her eyes were afforded such a stunning view of a sleeping Headmistress on her back, as bare as the day she entered the world, forever altering the rotation of Hermione's own.
Teasingly, her head dipped forward and Hermione tasted the slumbering woman, her tongue parting folds of sensitive flesh and seeking out her bundle of nerves. Brown eyes, unwavering, watched the woman who subconsciously seemed to be reacting to the touch of her tongue. Minerva's legs parted fractionally more. Circling her clit languidly, Hermione slid her hands and arms beneath her wife's legs so that her hands could rest atop those strong thighs, and it was this along with added pressure she was willing to offer that awoke Minerva with a start.
Being physically shifted in her sleep, and recognizing this, Minerva quickly lifted the arm that lay over her eyes which sprung open as she partially grew conscious. Conscious enough to be shocked by the feel of her clit being sucked into a tantalizing mouth. Immediately her back arched and she hissed in pleasure, her hand reaching down to wind through thick, chestnut locks. She was not prepared to be awake, yet, how could she be upset when the good morning she received was causing her such vast joy? Tilting her chin forward, emerald eyes found those aimed up along her naked figure, the sight of her lover's mouth consuming her causing her own lips to part and a low moan to rise in the back of her throat. Fully awake, entirely conscious, her body reacted on its own and she spread her thighs wider to accept the gift of sex willingly, a slight action that afforder her feel of the pad of Hermione's finger circling her entrance. Despite herself, Minerva began to beg for it. She wanted it. There was a time for teasing and there was a time to be taken, the latter was now.
She was not disappointed.
Minerva rarely begged for anything, so when pleas hung in the air between them, Hermione submitted and gently entered her wife with a finger, then two, and began to deeply and languidly fuck her blind, her mouth sucking determindly on that sweet nerve center that caused the woman's voice to grow ragged with need, grow louder, producing a sound that made her heart swell. Feeling the ebony haired witch begin to roll her hips and impale herself on the digits with unbridled need with each upward stroke, Hermione knew she was close. She wanted to watch, admire, and store the memory of it. Her fingers picked up speed while her head lifted from Minerva's core just for a moment, enough for her to ask the woman to look at her, to let her watch her come against her hand and mouth, something that seemed to drive her wife further toward climax as she complied. Darkened eyes strained to maintain their lock on the tender gaze of the woman between her legs, and it was the look of resolute love and desire found in their depths that caused her to cry out the name that hung on her lips, repeatedly, as that delicious mouth continued to drag it from her tight throat.
Feeling the woman grip her slick fingers through orgasm, her walls contracting with every furthered move, Hermione eventually stilled there and allowed for her lover to enjoy the come down from the place she'd been steered to. When she was ready, she withdrew and began to kiss her way back up the body quaking beneath. Her reward was Minerva partially dragging her back up desperately to kiss her good morning. It wasn't about reciprocation, although Hermione knew that, eventually, her time would come to be completely enveloped by Minerva's want to please her, but for now… It was about simply having the opportunity to express that which couldn't quite be put into words. Taken by the beauty, and the love, the quiet, and the conversations they'd shared, all she could think of to do, which felt right, was give Minerva something that only she could give; Herself. And she'd gladly give herself to the woman over, and over again. She didn't even need to be begged or asked, the desire to do so came so naturally. It had always been there.
Back and forth until they were completely spent, the women rolled around their bed in mutual pleasure until the sun cast itself across their bare flesh. Their blanket had long since been shoved off the end of the bed and pooled in a pile on the floor there. Hermione held Minerva to her chest, the woman's head tucked beneath her chin, while they took those precious moments to catch breath that had been lost, or intentionally avoided, because the need for touch or kisses overpowered necessity of human function. They held each other closely, and when true alertness began to return them to reality, Hermione felt Minerva's fingers drag softly along her spine.
"Remind me again why we are leaving this bed?" She heard her wife ask against her chest, lips punctuating the question with a soft kiss before Minerva's head angled so that her cheek met where a kiss had been landed. Hermione chuckled softly, the hand she had weaved through Minerva's hair beginning to comb through strands, relaxedly.
"Because I promised my mother that I would be home for Christmas, and you know how Molly can get." She had to keep herself from laughing at the deep groan of feigned displeasure she was rewarded. The older witch began to shift and move, maneuvering until she could lay her head on the pillow beside Hermione and aim a look at her young wife. A pale hand rose and cupped her cheek, Minerva's thumb lightly tracing across her bottom lip. Instinctively, Hermione's lips caught the pad of Minerva's thumb and kissed it.
"Do they know that we've eloped, Hermione?" There was an uncertainty displaying on her face, a look of caution that Hermione had somewhat been anticipating, because, truthfully, no… They hadn't told anyone. As far as Hermione was aware, the only people who knew that the relationship between them existed was Harry, Ginny, and Ron, but even Ronald didn't know that much. Oh, it was going to be an interesting time.
"I failed to mention it." Hermione replied honestly, eliciting another, now sincere, groan of displeasure as she watched Minerva roll onto her back and cover her eyes with her hand. Maybe it was the fact that she'd just been completely and utterly loved up, or the fact that she truly didn't consider it to be the biggest deal, but Hermione was far less bothered by this than Minerva seemed to be.
"You write to the Weasley's what...Twice a week? How could you fail to mention it?" The Scottish woman put on that tone that sometimes made Hermione bristle, that Headmistress-y tone that she liked to use when she was doubtful, concerned, or simply slightly irritated. On this day, however, it didn't take effect. That didn't mean Hermione wasn't going to call her on it though. With a glint in her eye, she reached out a tanned hand and laid it on Minerva's stomach.
"Now, listen here, woman… Use that tone in our bed and I'm going to have to drag you back to Hogwarts so we can have this discussion in your office, which, neither of us want, hmm?" She replied with a thinly veiled smirk, Minerva's fingers parting only slightly so that her eye could cast a half-hearted glare at the woman rising to rest on her elbow beside her.
"Do you really think now is the best time to tell them? Do they even know that I'm to be coming with you?" The brunette paused, her bottom lip captured between her teeth as she gazed down between her wife's fingers and into the one eye she could see. Hermione was silent. She was silent for quite a few moments, which was a very telling sign. The realization crept over Minerva and she couldn't help herself but to reach out and give Hermione's arm a firm smack. "YOU DIDN'T TELL THEM?!"
"OUCH, Christ, no I didn't tell them!" She stated loudly in response, as Minerva slipped out from beneath her arm, a long string of expletives parting her lips as she cursed her way into the bathroom for a shower. Sighing heavily, guessing it was now time to get up, Hermione rolled to the edge of the bed and sat there for a few minutes, hearing the shower spring to life behind the closed door.
As concerned as Minerva may have been, Hermione was not. If there was anything that she knew about the Weasley's, it was that if Hermione was happy, truly happy, then it didn't matter who she brought home for dinner, it was accepted. Did she think that they would be slightly hurt by the fact that they had, as Minerva had called it, eloped without warning? No, not really. Hermione didn't do anything without considering everything about a decision. They knew that much. Would it be a surprise, absolutely, would they be somewhat shocked by the fact that her affections had landed on one of the most unconventional of partnerships? They may have been, but none of that mattered. Minerva was only mildly overreacting, which was alright. It could be dealt with. And they would deal with it in the afternoon when they flew over to exchange gifts, something that was more for the kids rather than all of them, seeing as once you hit a certain age it became more about the act of being together than the want of presents.
Hermione gave her wife a few moments to be by herself in the shower, a bit of time, and then rose from the edge of the bed and rounded the end of it to the bathroom door which, thankfully, wasn't locked. She opened it and entered into the steamy room, suddenly struck by a slight shiver. She closed the door quietly and crept toward the tub and the shower curtain. Reaching out, she parted the curtain a little to find Minerva bracing herself against the wall, fully beneath a cascade of hot water and, she knew, the woman was having a slight battle within her mind sparked by their earlier conversation. Minerva knew she was there, still, said nothing. The younger woman stepped into the bathtub and closed the shower curtain. She cautiously nearled and wrapped her arms around the woman standing there and drew her backward, back enough so water hit Minerva's chest and the woman could rest her head back on the inviting shoulder of her young wife. Despite what Hermione thought, Minerva wasn't angry. She was worried. She'd never been thrust into a situation that she felt she had so little control over, although it seemed only when Hermione was involved, those circumstances arose so much more frequently. It was a scary feeling. They stood there for a while and Minerva laid her arms over the ones circling over her stomach, allowing herself a moment to sigh and squeeze those arms closer.
"I've known Molly and Arthur for many years, I've watched and have helped guide their children to grow, I've been a constant… And now I'm the spouse of a person who is considered to be one of their own," She said softly, peering at the shower head and the water searing water pouring out from it. "With no warning, revealing this to them, what will they think of me?"
"They will think that I have chosen the person that is best suited to dealing with me," Hermione answered, closing her eyes as she rested her chin upon Minerva's shoulder, reveling in the warmth. "I have never been conventional, I have never sought out anything or anyone that was ever considered safe, until you… You keep me safe, you please me, you help me to find happiness, everything else… Doesn't matter." Whether by the sheer force of calm tone or by the comforting hold she had on the woman in her arms, something made the Headmistress begin to relax. Hermione felt it.
"We'll see about that."
And that brought the conversation to an end.
Nothing brought Arthur, or his wife, greater joy than their grandchildren and children. And although not all the Weasley clan could make an appearance on Christmas day, due to travel and In-Laws to split the time between, they at least knew that come New Year's Day, everyone would be gathered at the Burrow. As it would be, it was nearing four in the afternoon, and the children were running amuck with their new gifts, in knitted sweaters that Molly had always given at Christmas. It had become tradition.
While Ronald, George, their father, and Harry sat with glasses of eggnog and rum by the fire, Harry minding his and George's kids to the best of his ability while his wife, sister in law, and mother in law busied themselves in the kitchen for a bit before joining them, Hermione and Minerva were in the throes of travel over white covered landscape. Molly was beside herself with cheer, Christmas at the Burrow being one of her favorite times of year.
"And when Bill, Charlie, and Percy, their wives and children come join us for New Years, it'll be a full house again…" The eldest ginger woman stated with a satisfied smile as she leaned on the arm of her husband's chair.
"And Molly couldn't be more overjoyed, nothing makes her happier than caring for an army." Arthur remarked, a slight smile catching at the corner of his mouth as his wife swatted his shoulder. The kids could only chuckle as it was undoubtedly the truth.
"Well, if it wasn't for that," Shot back his wife as she shifted to go get a glass of eggnog for herself, pointing vaguely somewhere toward the crotch of his trousers. "We wouldn't have an army." George and Angelina cracked, cackling while the youngest Weasley screwed her face in disgust.
"Mom… Gross." Muttered Ginny, which Ron seconded as he bounced little Albus on his lap, the little boy quite content to stay right there with his favorite uncle. Harry just shook his head, smirking. The antics would never die. Molly only shot her daughter a look as though to say Well, it's the truth.
They settled into easy conversation as they watched over the kids, with Angelina and Ginny seeming to steer it back to Quidditch whenever they had the opportunity. In the distance, eventually, over the laughter and conversation, a distant rumbling called for Ron to slightly turn and peer out the window to see a distant speck in the sky growing nearer with the passing seconds.
"Looks like Hermione's finally made it down," He announced, turning back to toss a glance at Harry with a smirk. "Bloody woman is always fashionably late, isn't she."
Before Harry could answer, Angelina piped in.
"So she's the new professor, hmm… Can't say I didn't think that'd happen eventually, she was always so bookish." George leaned against his wife's leg from where he sat on the floor sipping his drink, as her dark skinned hand combed through his hair, absently.
"Hermione's bookish, certainly… One tough dueller though too." He mused.
"She's got someone with her…" Ronald stated as he turned a bit more on the ottoman where he sat to peer out the living room window once more, Albus paying little to no attention as he played with one of his new toys, a little hippogriff plush, folding it over in his tiny hands.
"Does she now?" Molly strolled over to look out the window as the motorcycle flying toward came nearer into view, Ginny being the presence at her side as curiosity rose within the younger witch. "Is that… Is that Minerva McGonagall I see there, on the back of a motorcycle?"
Ginny leaned backward, her eyes catching her husband's behind Molly's, a look that was caught by Author and whoever else sat on that side of the room. George and his wife looked at one another.
"Did she really bring McGonagall home for Christmas? Blimey… Well, the woman probably needed a bit of time out of the castle." Arthur explained away as he rose from his chair gingerly to take a look for himself.
At the mention of his aunt, James popped up in front of them and quickly stumbled over Ron and his brother to the window sill to watch his aunt and the stranger glide down toward the road, back tire spitting gravel and snow upon meeting it.
"I'd better get a few more glasses ready here." Molly turned toward the kitchen to sort out some drinks for the new arrivals, chuckling at the image of an old friend riding a machine which, she could swear, she would never have thought in a million years Minerva McGonagall would ever straddle in her lifetime.
Meanwhile, outside, Minerva gripped tightly to her lover as they made the descent and landed, not too roughly, but with enough force that it did cause the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. That had to be the thing she abhorred the most about this mode of transportation; when they hit the ground and just kept on going, it was far more jarring than a nice ease down into landing that she had grown somewhat accustomed to.
They pulled into the Burrow property and slowed by the garden where, finally, the vehicle came to a halt. Using Hermione's shoulders as leverage, the Headmistress rose off the back of the bike and swung her leg over as the engine died down, watching as her wife heeled down the kickstand and lifted herself off in a similar fashion. Standing in the snow, having at long last arrived, the women turned toward one another. They made eye contact. Hermione could see Minerva's discomfort, her concern, written plainly there across paler features, although the woman tried to push that feeling down, she always had a tell; her lips. When they formed that thin, grim line, even if the rest of her features bore some calmness or relaxation, it was her lips that told otherwise.
"They're watching from the window, which is normal… But, I'm going to tell you right now, act natural," As Minerva listened she watched Hermione bend down to collect some of their brought things from the saddle bag hanging by the back tire, regaining some of the sensation in her legs, her hand instinctively moved to her hand and, to Hermione - who's eyes had since traveled back to gauge-, seemed to be questioning whether to remove her ring. An act that warranted a faint smile. "And don't you dare take off that wedding ring, darling… I'm surely not taking off mine."
"Are you positive about all this?" Minerva questioned, turning herself just a bit further so that her back was what any onlooker was given from the towering home behind, reaching to take whatever was too much for her wife to carry.
"Never been more so." Was the reply she received, along with a brief touch of gloved hand against her own, letting her know that Hermione could handle the things that they brought but wanted to offer her comfort. Minerva gave a brief nod, setting herself, and then followed closely behind the brunette woman, the sound of crunching snow beneath their feet suddenly quite soothing.
The nearer they drew, the more heat rose to Hermione's cheeks. Although outwardly she was only to display a quiet determination, a confidence, she would be lying through her teeth if there wasn't just that little bit of self consciousness. Just like the last time she brought a woman home for Christmas, but it felt different. Just as they were about to reach the kitchen door, Molly flung it wide open and gleefully announced that it was about time they showed up. Standing there in the doorway, ushering them into the kitchen, others trickled into the space from the living room to give the women tight hugs and cheery hello's, they passed Happy Christmas back and forth, Minerva noting that Molly clung to Hermione for a great deal of time in a tight hug as Arthur shook her hand. Harry, Ron, and Ginny quickly followed, telling her over the elder man's shoulder that it was so nice to have her around. She wondered for how long that opinion would remain true, all things considered.
"McGonagall, we had no idea that we'd be your host this evening, but I'm so glad you joined us." He told her, giving her pale digits a final squeeze before their hands dropped to their respective sides.
"Good ol' McG!" George maneuvered around his father to offer his prior Head of House a proper hug, his wife close behind, something that surprised the ebony haired witch beyond measure but she had always had a soft spot for the Weasley twins and their zest for life. And, she knew, they had always held a soft spot for her. But it was hard… Where there was one, she always would expect the two. Their hug was brief but deeply felt, and Angelina wasn't too far behind.
"Afternoon, Minerva." The dark skinned woman smiled as she, too, gave the woman a tight, brief, hug of greeting.
Meanwhile, Molly held Hermione's face in her hands and inspected her closely, her bright eyes combing over her features.
"My dear girl, you look different." She stated, her gaze zeroing in on missing marks that had marred Hermione's features for quite some time, suddenly… Gone.
"Poppy." Was all she had to say, and as Arthur stepped in toward them, he lifted his hand and tucked a thumb under Hermione's chin, guiding her face toward him with an inspectful eye as he'd caught the brief conversation.
"Well, well… Would you look at that, she does good work, that woman."
"You've no idea." The young brunette chuckled as Molly let her go so that she could give the old wizard a strong hug.
It took some time for the greetings to die down and for the women to be ushered further into the living room where the kids played, James however became fixated on his godmother and immediately attached himself to her hip. Minerva couldn't help but to notice as she was offered a seat beside Arthur by the fire. Hermione declined a chair and took place, like George, on the floor by her leg, James quickling making a home for himself by sitting down on her crossed leg lap so he could tell Hermione all about the gifts he was given. When offered eggnog and rum, she begged it to be more rum than nog, and accepted the drink graciously. Before long the conversation ensued and the excitement relaxed, the air still crackling with its remnants but it also grew more comfortable over time. Topics ranged the more topical, less heavy, and the witches settled in with ease because, among friends, it was hard not to be taken by the nostalgia. Ginny, however, caught Hermione's eye and simply raised her eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing at the corner of her mouth that was incredibly reminiscent of Fred. How badly she must have wanted to tease or make mention, but she didn't. One thing, however, struck Hermione as odd and that was the fact that she had entirely anticipated Lavender to be present. Ron sat alone, between Angelina and Harry, Albus on his lap, but his girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. She leaned down and murmured into James's ear that she'd only be a minute and that she needed to speak to his uncle, the young boy peered up at her with questioning eyes for a few seconds, still, he grudgingly shifted to go find his sister while Hermione used Minerva's knee as leverage to stand.
"Ronald…" She addressed, his head turning toward her and away from the conversation he'd been listening in to. No one else really noticed, as even Minerva was in deep discussion with Arthur and George. "Can I steal you to the kitchen, need a refill." She shook her near empty glass.
"Absolutely." He replied, tilting to pat Albus's leg to let him know he needed to get up. The boy slid from his lap and settled immediately on the floor with George's kids to play, none too bothered by being displaced, while his uncle and his aunt wandered out into the kitchen where food and drink was found.
The ginger man reached and took Hermione's glass with a smile and angled to start mixing her drink at the counter, she leaned against it close at his side and inspected him for a moment.
"Are you going to tell me why you brought Minerva down?" He asked softly, quietly, as rum sloshed in the glass he was pouring it into.
"Are you bothered that I did?" She asked in turn, genuinely curious now about whether he was taken aback. He turned his gaze upon her for a second, then passed her shoulder at the oven and the full stove top, food bubbling away for the dinner they were about to be having.
"No, not at all, you just haven't brought anyone around since… Since Amy, I guess." She could tell he found it difficult to say her name, it was somewhat difficult to hear it, but it was getting easier. He gauged her features and watched as his best friend turned to fully press her lower back against the edge of the counter while he slowly reached for the eggnog, prolonging their little visit into the kitchen so they could properly talk without everyone else hearing.
"I was actually wondering why Lavender isn't here… I thought she might be." As soon as the words left her mouth, Ron hummed softly, giving a nod as he realized her concern. A well formed concern, really.
"We aren't together anymore." He replied simply, stirring her drink.
"What?" Hermione's features scrunched in confusion, her head twisting quickly to look at the side of his face. He appeared calm, collected, and didn't seem phased.
"After we lost the baby, we just… Couldn't really see eye to eye on anything, we got bloody stupid with one an other and decided it was probably best to end things now before it got worse, but we're working on things, just friends though. For now." He explained and, as she listened, she had to say, that was probably the most adult thing she had ever heard him tell her. Still, it didn't make the realization of what he must be going through any less heavy.
"Ron, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me, in all those letters, you could have told me?" He passed her the drink he'd made which she placed down on the counter a second later, reaching for his far arm to turn him toward her, and his back to the living room. She looked up at him and saw a bit of sadness in his eyes but, otherwise, he looked rather at peace with it.
"It was around the same time that you decided to just about get yourself killed, that was a bit more important, but now you know." He replied through a bit of a smirk, taking the hand from his arm and holding it in his own. "You're my best friend, girlfriends can come and go, but you are my best friend. I'm just glad to see you happy and… just a bit sober."
"Fuck you, Ronald Weasley." Hermione felt her eyes burning, even after all those years she still couldn't quite shake the fact that this man, despite the fact that they had never really been intimate, never romantically involved, was still quite a soul mate in the sense that he was her chosen brother. Like Harry. But far greater. He just chuckled and pulled her in for a tight hug.
"Yeah, yeah… Fuck me." He replied airily, the only thing really playing at his thoughts was the fact that right now, he had his family under one roof, and Hermione was home, everything else could wait to be dealt with another day.
"I married her." Muffled against woolen knit, Hermione murmured into Ronald's chest. He was positive he hadn't heard her correctly, even more positive that his mind had conjured up that she had said something at all. His hand stilled on her shoulder blade where it had been rubbing.
"Hmm?" He wordless asked with a hum, only for Hermione to lean back fractionally and gaze up at her friend, her brown eyes showing signs that they once held a few tears.
"I brought McGonagall because I married her." Their eyes met and he stared at her, her hands on top of his arms that still held to her sides. His eyes dropped to them, from one to the next, where, on her finger wrapped something that he hadn't noticed, nor had anyone else; a simple band. Peering hard at it, Hermione couldn't read what he was feeling. All she knew was that he was staring at her ring like he'd never seen one before. It was only in that moment that she realized how truly terrified she was to expose her happiness to her friends and family. Because now it was real, it could go either way, and she couldn't predict which way it was going right then.
Ron let her go.
Her feet were rooted to the spot as he slowly backed away and held up a hand, he looked like he didn't know what to do. He pointed at it, his hand shaking with what appeared to be adrenalin, and then he turned his back and strode into the living room with Hermione hot on his heels. It was this swift entry and Hermione's raised voice calling his name that captured the attention of the room. He avoided stepping on kids but found himself standing in front of Minerva's chair, his gaze bounced from her face to her hand where, like the brunette, bore a gold band. He stared at it for a moment.
"Mr. Weasley?" Suddenly dry of mouth as she was forcibly pulled out of a rather enjoyable debate by the red headed man standing in front of her knees, Minerva's eyes cast themselves at the brunette standing off to the side as the rest of the Weasley's watched the scene unfold. Hermione kept her eyes trained on the tall man standing in front of her wife.
"Stand up." He told the Headmistress who hadn't a singular clue what was happening. Molly tried to intervene and inched closer from her standing spot beside her daughter but Hermione's arm shot out to stop her, halting the woman in her tracks. Minerva paused, eyeing Ronald with curiosity and slight reservation, she placed down her glass on the side table between her and Arthur who eyed her with confusion before the woman cautiously rose from her chair to stand. She drew herself to full height, as though this would somehow save her. At nearly eye level with the man who had addressed her, there was a brief second of contemplation crossing his features. Even the children seemed to grow curious as the grown ups were silently watching, looking concerned and unusually bewildered. In an instant his hand reached out and he pulled his Head of House into a hug, Minerva froze as her form was enveloped in two strong arms, her own rising on either side of his torso but the shock prevented them from closing. Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach as the realization dawned that it was okay. She released the breath she was holding and doubled over to grab her knees as she began to steal herself, now that the threat of anger had passed. She felt a hand drop onto her back, and Molly's skirt come into view beside her. Regardless, everyone was still perplexed.
"You made her an honest woman." Minerva heard him say gruffly, her arms finally realizing that she had some power over them, which granted her the capability of enclosing around the man hugging her so tightly that she thought she'd still feel it for the next hour. Hermione had told him.
"What's going on?" Ginny asked as Hermione straightened once again, the brunette brushing her hair back and away from her face.
"Minerva and Hermione got married." Ron called back, answering for the women as he let the ebony haired witch go.
Casting a glance at a shocked Molly standing at her side, Hermione's gaze then shifted to Ginevra. They looked at one another, then, much like her brother, the youngest Weasley stood and reached past her mother to pull her friend in for a close hug, the sounds of George and Angelina beside themselves with laughter in the corner filling the room. Harry cheered like he'd just watched the Keeper of his favorite team score the winning goal, the rum in his belly pinkening his cheeks as he hollarred, clambering to his wife and brushing past his mother in law to envelope the women in a hug.
The wave of relief was all encompassing.
TBC...