Disclaimer: I obviously own none of the rights to the Harry Potter universe or the cover image, but the plot is mine
Fair warning: Chapter 6 may contain triggers of a sexual nature!
Cormac swaggers forward from the darkness. He has no doubt stumbled out of the nearby tavern and village inn. A muffled shout and breaking pottery sound from behind the inn door. The town has been keeping awake to hear the announcement: birth or death. Or both.
Cormac's gaze is appraising and appreciative as it slithers over my body. I don't understand why.
I push the curling frizz out of my face, my braid long since falling apart. I am covered in my own drying sweat and realize it has been nearly a full day since I've changed my clothes. I smell like birth and blood and life. An altogether unpleasant combination.
It is time to purchase new clothes I reflect. At nearly sixteen, I have long outgrown the clothing from when I arrived. While Minerva has never failed to provide me with new clothes, I have been resistant to the older more feminine style of clothing that I feel pressure to adopt. Living in the forest has afforded me the shelter to wear what I prefer rather than what is socially accepted. Britches for trapping hares with Hagrid, our forest neighbour. Or an sturdy fabric apron for gathering apples and other flora.
Dresses are not a common part of my wardrobe but they are what I wear most often in town to avoid censure. Minerva and I already stretch the bounds of propriety living alone in the woods as we do.
But Cormac has noticed how my breasts strain against the fabric of my old dress. Time for a roomier outfit. That or avoid Cormac forever. I'd be pleased with both.
"You've blossomed." His honeyed tongue disgusts me.
"I don't need a man, or babies," I huff.
"But there is such pleasure in making them," he shoots back leering.
Doubtless he has used this line before. As a traveling merchant, I'd wager there are plenty of tiny Cormacs scattered across the kingdom.
I can see the appeal to a degree. Strong strapping shoulders and wide blue eyes with eyelashes any woman would envy.
He grabs his crotch and scratches idly through his britches. Spits thickly over his shoulder. Aaaaand I'm reminded why not.
Nevermind the fact that he has been panting after the inn-keeper's daughter, Lavender. I caught them humping behind the inn barn weeks ago when I had been sent to gather eggs as recompense for a medicinal order from the inn-keep. I don't know how far they've progressed but she's a conniving woman and I won't get in the way of her designs on him. No matter how much he disgusts me, she's clearly interested in him, or perhaps the life she thinks he can provide. Lavender has already entertained the attentions of the youngest Weasley boy. But perhaps she thinks she can do better.
Cormac is an only son and spends the spring and summer seasons travelling, buying, selling and doubtless impregnating the entire kingdom. He recently took up the trade from his father who left his own seed scattered far and wide. But the air has become chill and it is fall again. Cormac's unpleasant presence has returned to town for the final weeks of fall before subjecting us to his ways all winter long. I wonder if I should start calculating how long until I deliver his next bastard child in town.
He is not without charm and physical appeal but at nineteen he has more lust per square inch than sense. While I've been distracted in thought he has weaseled his way towards me and makes a move to grope my arse.
"Come now pet -" he begins.
Quick as lightning I have my small blade pressed against his throat. I do not suffer fools.
Cormac freezes, his breath a mist across my face as his eyes bulge comically.
"You will keep your slimy putrid hands to yourself – ser!" I hiss.
Cormac smiles cruelly, his eyes unfocused with drink.
"All the boys in town know you need a good fucking, up there in the woods with no one to warm yer bed."
I smirk, "I already have a man to warm my bed, he is by far a better hunter and kisser than you could ever be." I boast.
Speaking of my love, a shadow peels itself from the side of the house lumbering towards us.
I smile releasing Cormac and turning towards my protector.
"Fang!" I dip down and ruffle his wrinkly hide. He slobbers all over my face in welcome after giving Cormac a baleful glare. We've certainly come far from our first encounter!
Cormac losing interest, has stumbled some ways down the street back towards the inn and is taking a loud piss against the one of the stone walls. Charming.
I turn as Minerva slips out of the home behind me and into the night. She hands me my cloak and the basket containing our tools of the trade. I notice her take in Cormac's presence but she says nothing as I pull the thick wool around me, finally registering the morning chill.
Another burst of sound escapes the inn, and I turn to see Lavender silhouetted against the light. She has a jug of something propped on my hip and her dress is notably rumpled and even lower cut than min. She pins me with a momentary stare before turning towards the nearby Cormac. I miss their exchange but hear her titter at something he says. The low rumble of his voice lost to the beginning of birdsong.
.
.
"Come Hermione, the goats will need milking soon."
Minerva draws me away from the morning drama and we begin the long walk back to our homestead. We are a community of two bolstered by forest and farm animals.
We are nearly home when she pauses.
"I was nearly married once."
She does not stop to acknowledge the words but continues speaking as we walk.
"His name was… Magnus." The name is nearly a whisper on her lips. "He knew me, body and soul."
I am speechless with this revelation. Minerva seems older, but also ageless now that we have spent years together. I am convinced that she manifested in the forest and has no other origin story. Aside from our first few days, she has never pushed for more of my childhood story and the circumstances that brought me to her door.
We have arrived back at the cabin and she busies herself putting away the items from our night. I chew my lips nervously pulling the skin between by teeth when I find myself without words.
"I know you're of an age," she pauses "where men will begin to notice you and –"
"Minerva please – "
"You are a beautiful young woman Hermione. It is not a bad thing to be loved."
She steps around our communal table and takes my face in her hands. I stare deeply into her eyes, the crow's feet and laugh lines that I have loved for so long. Up close I notice that her brown hair is more silver than I remember. My parents are with me always but Minerva is the mother of my heart. Tears cling to my eyelashes and I struggle to articulate.
"Don't make me leave," I choke.
"Oh Hermione," she laughs, a puff of warm breath across my cheeks. "I would never make you do anything but … to love, and be loved …" she trails off and guides me towards her and presses her cool lips to my forehead leaving the rest unsaid.
"While I vowed to a live a life helping others, I was just wasting time. Hollow. And you, my unexpected child, are the light that broke through my self-imposed isolation. But I don't want to keep you from the possibility of young love."
"Minerva, … Cormac is nothing to me but a cad!"
She laughs again, gathering a milking pail and preparing to head back outside. I stumble along behind me.
"I'm glad he does not interest you. But I'm talking about love, not lust."
I cannot believe we are having this discussion.
She pulls open the rickety gate to the small barn and the bleats of the nanny goats call a welcome. I sit myself on the small stool and gently coax one of the goats from her pen and begin to milk meditatively.
"You know the ways of men and women; how a child is conceived."
It's true, I have studied enough animal interactions to know the mechanics. We practice some animal husbandry and the business of midwifery means I am perhaps more enlightened than other women my age.
"Minerva, before I – " this is new territory. Or old, as it concerns my past.
"When my parents died," my throat still tightens. "When they died I approached the master for work and he –" I shudder in remembering. The ghost of his hands, the unwelcome press of his slippery tongue.
Fair warning: Chapter 6 may contain triggers of a sexual nature!
A/N: I'm looking for suggestions on how DM/HG meet! A lake bathing scene has been suggested ;) Thoughts?