Professor Pomona Sprout hid a grimace of discomfort. Just because she was not feeling her best did not mean her students needed to know about it. She glanced at her pocket watch. Ten more minutes. Her interminable day was mercifully almost over.
She had visited the hospital wing during the afternoon break to see the matron, Poppy Pomfrey, about the clenching cramps in her belly, but there was no time for the healing she needed then.
"Is it bad this month?" Poppy had asked sympathetically.
Pomona winced and laid a hand on the curve of her belly. "I've had worse, but it's bad enough."
"Poor Mona. Can you make it through afternoon lessons?"
"I'll manage."
Poppy patted her arm, a twinkle in her eye. "Come find me after supper. We'll see what we can do for you then."
There were herbal remedies Pomona could whip up for herself that would provide some relief, but nothing worked quite so well as Poppy's cure. She had been thinking about it all day.
A crash jerked her from her musings. The remains of a newly-sprouted plant lay on the floor of the greenhouse, amid scattered soil and the shattered remains of its pot. Two third year students stared guiltily down at it.
"Mr Pettigrew!" Pomona snapped, striding toward them. "Can you not at least try to be a little more careful?"
Peter Pettigrew cowered before her uncharacteristic display of temper, but Remus Lupin dragged his glassy gaze up to meet hers.
"It was me, Professor," he said dully. "I dropped it. Sorry."
Pomona bit back a sharp retort, taking a breath to calm herself. "I see. My apologies, Mr Pettigrew. Please clean up the mess, and repot the seedling, Mr Lupin. Perhaps it can still be saved. Your friends may assist you," she added, glancing at the two other boys hovering nearby.
Lupin knelt on the floor as Sirius Black and James Potter leapt to his aid. Pettigrew hurried away in search of a new pot.
"Don't touch the broken pieces, Moony," Black murmured as Pomona turned away. "You might hurt yourself."
When the bell tolled the end of the lesson, and the students filed out, she breathed a sigh of relief. Wandering through the quiet greenhouse, straightening things and checking on the tender spring growth, soothed her. A few of the seedlings needed repotting. Pomona transferred them to their new homes with care and sympathy, imagining that they shared her cramped and swollen discomfort.
The sky through the glass roof was gray and heavy with rain. Pomona sighed. The days were growing longer, and the bite of winter had lifted from the air, but true spring was still weeks away. She longed for warmth and sunlight every bit as much as did the green things under her care.
When all was in order and settled for the night, Pomona removed her gardening smock. She scrubbed the dirt from under her short fingernails at the basin which stood next to her desk, and dried her hands on a towel, then headed up to the castle.
Passing through the heavy oak doors, she turned toward the great staircase. There was still more than an hour until supper, but her discomfort was such that she could not bear to wait that long for relief. Her cramps had stolen her appetite, in any case.
Near the hospital wing, she caught sight of Sirius Black again. He stared at her with guilty defiance, as if she had caught him doing something forbidden.
"Evening, Professor."
"Good evening, Mr Black. I trust you're not getting yourself into mischief?"
"No, Ma'am."
"Run along, then."
He bobbed his head and hurried away down the corridor, glancing back over his shoulder.
The matron was not alone when Pomona arrived at the hospital wing.
"You're early, Professor," Poppy said with a distracted frown, giving Pomona the professional honourific they always used in the presence of students. "I must just see to Mr Lupin. Please wait in my office. I'll be with you presently."
"Thank you, Matron. I'll keep," Pomona assured her, trying to ignore the clenched fist feeling in her belly.
She glanced at the boy sympathetically. Lupin appeared twitchy and anxious, eyes unfocused, mouth a tight line. He gave her no word of greeting, nor did he even seem to notice her presence.
Poor lad, she thought as she stepped into the matron's office, leaving the door ajar. He's probably having a worse time of it than I am.
Taking a French Herbology text down from the shelf, Pomona sat in the chair beside the desk and leafed through it. The volume was a familiar one, but the beauty of the illustrations never grew old. Turning to the frontispiece, she smiled at the inscription.
Poppy,
Friendship is the rarest and most precious bloom. What joy to have yours in the garden of my heart! My only regret is that it did not take root sooner. May our affection for one another remain evergreen.
Mona
They had been at Hogwarts together as girls, both of them in Hufflepuff House. Poppy was two years younger, so they had not known each other well. It was only the previous year, when Pomona accepted the post of Herbology Mistress, that friendship blossomed between them. Poppy had served as school matron a year longer, and was the only member of the Hogwarts staff close to Pomona's own age. They bonded over a shared love of healing herbs. Poppy took the novice professor under her wing, into her confidence, and after months of covert glances and hesitant words, into her bed.
Pomona closed her eyes, wincing as another clenching spasm gripped her. As if summoned by her need, Poppy appeared in the doorway.
"Is it that bad?"
"I'll live. How is Mr Lupin? He seemed to be having a hard time of it in Herbology this afternoon."
Poppy perched on the edge of the desk. "You know I can't discuss the private medical concerns of my patients."
"I know. But I'm fond of the lad, and I worry about him."
"He manages as well as can be expected," Poppy relented, taking Pomona's hand, and tracing the lines of her palm idly. "It helps that he has friends."
"Do you think they know?"
"It would be difficult to hide something like that from one's roommates for long. I can only hope that they show some discretion. If word ever got out that Hogwarts was harbouring a young werewolf, it would be a scandal."
"More of a scandal than you and me, do you suppose?" Pomona asked wryly.
Poppy arched an eyebrow. "I don't imagine some parents would be very pleased about us either, but our colleagues don't seem to mind, and the students never imagine their professors have private lives. Scandalous or not, I think we're safe enough for now." She slipped off the desk and drew Pomona to her feet. "Shall we?"
Pomona followed her through the door at the back of the office, into the dimly-lit chamber beyond. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the room was warm. A platter of bread, cheese, and fruit stood on an end table.
"I had the house-elves send it up," said Poppy. "I'm guessing you haven't eaten much today, and I thought you might be hungry later."
Pomona smiled. "You're too good to me."
"Nonsense," said Poppy, tossing a handful of sweet-smelling herbs on the fire, and removing the steaming kettle from the heat. "Go and make yourself ready while I prepare things here."
By the time Pomona emerged from the bathroom dressed in a lightweight cotton shift, Poppy had banked the fire, lit a few tall candles, laid a linen towel over the bedspread, filled a basin with a steaming infusion of herbs, and changed into her own nightgown. A stone glowed softly on the nightstand. It would light up and give warning if anyone came into the hospital wing in need of the matron. But for the time being, the woman sitting on the bed, her dark hair woven into a loose braid, a welcoming smile playing on her lips, was just Poppy. Here in her private rooms, her stern, no-nonsense manner fell away, revealing the softness and warmth of the woman beneath - the woman Pomona had fallen in love with.
Poppy held out a hand, and Pomona came to her.
"What seems to be the trouble, Professor?" she asked in a low, teasing tone.
"I ache for the healing touch of my Matron," replied Pomona, kneeling on the bed and leaning close to kiss her lover's smiling lips. "Without it, I fear I shall wither and die."
"Mm, well we can't have that. Lie back, and show me where it hurts."
Pomona reclined against the pillows. Without any sense of shyness, she tucked her shift up around her waist to expose her thick, soft thighs and belly, drawing her knees up and apart. Here, in Poppy's bed, was peace and safety. Here, they could shut out the rest of the world with all its judgements and uncertainties, and simply be, secure in their love for one another.
"Here," she said, cupping her tender breasts through the thin fabric, heavy and easily bruised like overripe fruit. Her hands flowed down the curves of her body to caress her aching belly. "And here." One hand moved downward again, coming to rest between her legs. "And here."
"I'll see what I can do," said Poppy, leaning over her.
Her hands on Pomona's tender breasts were warm and gentle. The ache began to ease almost at once as Poppy's hands moved over Pomona's body, leaving a sense of peace and wellbeing in their wake. Pomona sighed with contentment.
Sitting back on her heels, Poppy drew the steaming basin toward her. She lifted out a soft flannel, squeezing the excess liquid from it, and pressed the wadded cloth between Pomona's legs, resting a hand on her belly.
Pomona moaned softly. The infusion of murtlap essence was almost too hot to bear. When it began to cool, Poppy soaked the cloth again, squeezing out a little of the heated liquid so that it ran in rivulets between Pomona's swollen, aching folds. As Poppy swabbed her with the steaming potion, the cramping in Pomona's belly began to ease. The sodden cloth between her thighs seemed to draw the ache out of her, trading heat for pain. With a groan, Pomona relaxed, knees falling wider apart.
"Is that better, my love?" murmured Poppy.
"Mm, much," sighed Pomona. "I've been looking forward to this all day."
"Is that so?" Poppy sounded amused.
"Does that surprise you?" asked Pomona. "Your hands are magic."
Poppy chuckled. "Nonsense. You could just as easily do this for yourself."
"I could never. You have healing hands," insisted Pomona. "Your touch does things to me."
Poppy set aside the basin and the bloodstained cloth on the nightstand, and settled herself once more between Pomona's thighs. Her fingers, still slick and warm from the potion, brushed lightly over Pomona's skin, carding through wet auburn curls to touch the lush pink petals beneath.
"Like this?" she asked softly.
"Yes ..." sighed Pomona.
A teasing fingertip stroked her slit, coaxing her into bloom, and Pomona opened to the touch, like a flower to the warmth of the sun.
"You're so wet, my love," murmured Poppy, gentle fingers probing delicately between her folds.
"Told you," Pomona gasped, "I've been thinking about this all day."
"And you didn't touch yourself once?"
"Wanted you to do it. Helga's tits, that feels good!"
Poppy chuckled. Her fingers massaged the swollen bud that peeked out from between Pomona's petals, bathing it in her slippery juices. Tendrils of pleasure unfurled inside her, banishing the last of her cramps and replacing them with a sweeter ache.
"Is this all you wanted, dear one?" asked Poppy in a low, sultry voice. "Or was there something else ...?"
Pomona swallowed a moan. "Mm, the stone?"
Poppy grinned and touched her wand, lying on the bed beside her knee. "Accio stone."
A flat, polished river stone, of a size to fit neatly in Poppy's palm, rattled its way out of the nightstand drawer and flew to her hand. She tapped it with her wand.
"Vibratus."
The stone's edges blurred, and it began to emit a faint humming sound. Poppy caught Pomona's gaze and held it as she teased the edge of the vibrating stone down Pomona's abdomen, then led it in a swirling, roundabout path along her inner thigh, before pressing the flat of the stone to Pomona's sensitive bud. Pomona gasped and whimpered, the stone's vibrations weaving a web of tension and pleasure between her legs that was almost too much to bear.
"Please, Poppy ..." she begged.
Poppy's fingers caressed her, found the entrance to her aching, needy passage, teased her open, and slipped into that snug space. She rocked the stone with her thumb as her fingers stroked a lazy rhythm. Pomona moaned, hips rising from the bed, hungry for her lover's touch.
"Sweet Mona. I love the way you grip me," murmured Poppy. "Like your cunt wants to swallow me up, and take me all the way inside you."
"Yes," Pomona panted. "Please, Poppy! You know what I need ..."
Poppy pressed a kiss to her straining thigh. "Anything for you, my love."
Her fingers bunched together, their tips pushing into Pomona, opening her, stretching her. Poppy's other hand rested on her belly, her thumb holding the vibrating stone steady to Pomona's tingling bud, as her other hand pressed steadily deeper.
"Relax, dear one," Poppy murmured.
Pomona closed her eyes. In her mind, her lover's folded hand became a bulb, firm and full of life. Her own body was the rich, nurturing soil, longing to receive it. She drew a deep breath and held it, willing herself open to the joyful experience of joining.
"That's it, love," sighed Poppy.
Another moment's slow pressure, and her knuckles, slick with murtlap potion, eased past the threshold of Pomona's body.
Pomona's breath escaped her in a triumphant gasp. She felt gloriously full, stretched to her limit, her lower lips drawn taut around her lover's wrist. Poppy's hand twisted deep inside her, fucking her in short, sure thrusts. Desperate sobbing sounds tore from Pomona's throat as her straining hips rose to meet each movement.
"Oh, Merlin - fuck - yes - don't stop!"
But it was only when Poppy let the stone fall away, and bent her head to suckle Pomona's swollen bud, that pleasure burst into full bloom inside her, drawing a shuddering cry from her lips. She rode the cresting waves of climax for as long as she could bear, Poppy's mouth and hand working their magic on her and in her.
At last, she pushed her lover away, gasping. Flyaway tendrils of strawberry blonde hair clung damply to Pomona's face and neck, and sweat soaked through her shift, making her nipples stand out pink and bold through the thin fabric.
Poppy sat up, looking pleased with herself. She eased her hand from Pomona's spent and twitching cunt, and shook a cramp from it. Reaching for the bowl of cooling murtlap infusion, she wiped the blood from her fingers with the flannel, then gently dabbed the cloth between Pomona's bonelessly splayed thighs.
When she had finished her ministrations, Poppy stretched out beside her, taking Pomona in her arms, and kissing her long and deep, letting her taste some of her own musky sweetness on her tongue.
"How are your cramps now, dear one? Better, I hope?"
"What cramps?" sighed Pomona, feeling utterly blissful.
Poppy chuckled. "I suppose that means I did right by you?"
"You always do right by me."
Pomona cupped one of Poppy's small breasts, running a thumb over the nipple through the fabric of her nightgown to make it stand up, delighting in the soft wobble of flesh in her hand.
"You spend all day caring for others," she continued huskily. "You deserve to have someone take care of you."
"Mm, know anyone who might be up to the task?" sighed Poppy.
"I might."
Her hand strayed over Poppy's broad hip to tug at the hem of her nightgown. An amused smile playing on her lips, Poppy sat up and drew the garment over her head. Pomona peeled off her own sweat-damp shift, and reclined on the bed once more, propped up on an elbow, enjoying the view.
Poppy's skin glowed in the candlelight. Unable to look at her without touching her, Pomona cupped Poppy's face, leaning in for a long, sensual kiss that warmed them both. Her fingers traced the lush, rounded curves of Poppy's body, enjoying the softness of her; the weight of a breast on her palm; a shiver of gooseflesh as her fingertips trailed over a ticklish spot; the slickness between her thighs, juicy as a ripe peach warmed by the sun and bursting with sweetness.
The breath caught in Poppy's throat, and her eyes fluttered closed. Her thighs parted, opening to Pomona's touch. Pomona's fingers explored her slippery folds, stroking and teasing, eliciting breathless sounds of passion from Poppy's lips. She took nearly as much pleasure in her lover's responses as Poppy took from her caress. Pomona circled a fingertip around the bud of Poppy's pleasure, swollen with desire.
"Tease," panted Poppy.
"Do you want me to stop?" Pomona asked huskily.
"No! Don't you dare. Use your mouth -"
Pomona grinned. "With pleasure."
She moved to lie between Poppy's splayed thighs, taking a moment to savour the sight. This was one of her favourite views: her lover spread out before her, her garden of glistening-wet carnal delights openly displayed, in the midst of a forest of mossy hair.
With gentle fingers, Pomona spread Poppy's petals open, worshipfully bending her head to taste her rich nectar. She began with a slow and thorough open-mouthed kiss, lips and tongue caressing every fold and hollow. When Poppy began to moan, Pomona tickled and flicked the bud of her pleasure with the tip of her tongue, then suckled it as Poppy made desperate, needy sounds and clutched at her.
Alternating between slow licks, darting flicks, and gentle sucks, Pomona coaxed Poppy toward the zenith of her pleasure, never hurrying, but never relenting either, as the juices of Poppy's desire soaked her face and dripped from her chin.
"Please," Poppy whimpered. "Please, Mona -"
Pomona ignored her entreaties. She knew that if she kept up her steady pace, eventually Poppy would break, and the result would be all the more spectacular for the waiting.
Poppy strained and writhed against the bedspread, lip caught between her teeth as she strove for release. Pomona flicked her tongue against the sensitive bud again, and Poppy moaned. She was close. Pomona drew the bud between her lips and suckled it, gently at first, but in a steady rhythm, growing in intensity with each suck. Poppy gave a loud, sobbing cry, and convulsed, her body arching up off the bed.
Pomona drew back to enjoy the fruits of her labour. Limbs contorted, face alight with ecstasy, her lover was a glorious sight to behold. The tender flesh between Poppy's thighs twitched and pulsed with rhythmic aftershocks. Pomona sat up, drinking in the vision of loveliness before her.
When Pomona's fingertip delicately stroked her flushed and swollen petals, Poppy drew in a sharp breath.
"Give me a moment."
Pomona cocked her head. "Are you well, love?"
"Very well, dear one. Come here."
She opened her eyes, gesturing weakly. Pomona came to her, filled with tenderness. Stretching out beside her, she stroked Poppy's dark hair.
"Precious flower," she murmured. "I wish you could see how lovely you are right now. You always look so beautiful with your eyes all dreamy from being loved."
"I can see how beautiful you are," smiled Poppy. "That's enough for me."
She kissed Pomona, long and sweet, hand seeking the full roundness of her breast.
"Shall we see about that supper the house-elves brought up for us?"
They ate lounging on the bed, finishing a bottle of wine they had opened a few nights before.
"What time do you have to fetch Mr Lupin?" Pomona asked as Poppy banished the dishes back to the kitchen.
"Hours yet," said Poppy, kissing her. "We have plenty of time."
"You need your sleep, too, love," Pomona reminded her.
"I'll have it," Poppy assured her. "But I'll have you again, first."
Pomona grinned. "I'm all yours, whenever you're ready."
With an answering grin, Poppy retrieved her wand, summoning the stone to her hand and renewing the vibrating charm. Pomona watched, mesmerized, as Poppy lay back on the bed, spreading herself open and rubbing the buzzing stone against her bud, moaning softly. She looked up at Pomona with hooded eyes.
"Come fuck me," she murmured, voice low and husky.
Pomona needed no further invitation. She crawled between Poppy's thighs, fingers spreading her own folds open. When her bud touched the smooth stone, Pomona grunted in satisfaction, grinding down on it. The charmed stone stayed where it was put. No amount of rubbing or thrusting would dislodge it, even when its surface was slick with their juices.
Pomona's hungry mouth found Poppy's, as their cunts kissed around the edges of the vibrating stone. Pomona rolled her hips, delighting in the feel of her lover's most intimate parts sliding against her own, sending wild vines of pleasure coiling through her.
Bending her head, Poppy's lips caressed Pomona's breast. She suckled it, tongue flicking the nipple, as her hands slid downward to grip the thick flesh of Pomona's arse.
Pomona kissed her lover's sweat-damp brow. Their hips moved together now, grinding on the smooth stone with growing urgency. The soft, needy sounds of Poppy's passion sent answering thrills of excitement through Pomona's belly, to the hot, slippery centre of their joining, as if their bodies shared one sensation.
Poppy broke first, hips thrusting up sharply, whimpering cries muffled in Pomona's shoulder.
"That's my girl," Pomona panted, her own release close enough to taste.
She slid a hand between them, pushing the charmed stone aside. Poppy's slick, swollen bud kissed her own, rubbing and gliding, a bright spark of pleasure so intense that it took Pomona's breath away.
"Oh - oh!" she gasped, shuddering and clinging to Poppy, as if her climax might actually carry her away.
They clung to one another a moment longer as the waves of pleasure ebbed, then Pomona rolled onto her back. Damp and boneless, cooling in the night air of Poppy's chamber, she closed her eyes and sighed blissfully. The ache in her womb was only a fading memory now, banished by the healing touch of her lover, and the joy they found in each other.
Pomona wondered how she could be so happy, when all across the land, war was rising, hungry and ready to consume any who stood in its way. And yet she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She found Poppy's hand and squeezed it. As long as they remained safe behind the walls of Hogwarts, perhaps the war would not touch them.
It was a thought for another time. For now, she and Poppy were here, safe and warm and in love, in a bed that smelled of sex, with hours yet before the dawn.
Pomona turned onto her side to find Poppy regarding her with a fond, sleepy smile.
"Knut for your thoughts?"
Pomona returned her smile, along with a light touch. "Just happy, being here with you. Hoping we'll get to keep this, whatever else may happen."
"I hope so, too," sighed Poppy, nestling closer and pressing a kiss to Pomona's shoulder. "I've a feeling happiness of all kinds will be in short supply before long."