Hermione scrambled from her bed, clawing at her throat where her pyjamas felt like they were constricting her airway. Panic gripped her heart and drove her out of the nearly decimated dormitory. Her form shifted halfway down the stairs and she scrambled through the destroyed portrait hole, running as fast as her little furry legs would carry her. Sweat clung to her fur as she made her way through the entrance hall and out into the night.
Only when the cool air hit her lungs did Hermione stop running. She stood, in the middle of a field, dragging in long deep breaths. The grass tickled her paws, the dew soaking through her fur and making her shiver. Darkness clung weakly to the sky as it slowly began to lighten in the east, changing from black to pale twilight. Slowly she made her way towards the quidditch pitch. A quiet calm settled over the grounds and the young witch reveled in it.
It wasn't long before she was standing in the middle of the pitch, a tiny black speck in the arena. With a quiet huff, she laid down right where she was, head on her paws, and allowed herself to drift off to sleep. Finally comfortable enough in her own skin to contemplate slumber.
When she woke again, she felt a gentle hand, gliding over her fur, sifting through the soft strands with careful fingers. She opened her eyes and came face to face with Rolanda, lying on her stomach in the grass in front of her. Her chin pillowed on her arm, eyes closed, a serene look on her face.
Acting purely on instinct, allowing the cat in her to have control for a moment, she pushed her head into the hand petting her, purring softly. A slow, lazy smile stretched across Rolanda's mouth. It took a moment for Hermione to come to her senses and pull away from the hand that offered so much comfort. She didn't want to, but she knew that it was inappropriate for her to behave this way towards one of her former professors. She had always had a close relationship with Minerva, but she very rarely spent any time with Rolanda, except recently. The two of them were hardly friends, She didn't want to ruin it by seeming too needy.
With a soft pop Hermione way laying where the kitten had been only a moment ago. Rolanda's fingers never faltered. They continued to sift their way through riotous curls, the same as they had through soft fur. Tears crept their way into the young witch's eyes and Rolanda sat up. She scooted closer to Hermione, and allowed the young witch to cling to her, burying her face in her stomach and resting her head in her lap. The older witch just held her, whispering words of comfort to her and combing her fingers through bushy strands.
Hermione had no idea how long she laid there, crying softly into her new friends stomach, but when her tears finally dried, she smiled shyly up at the golden eyed woman, who merely smiled back at her, offering no advice or words of wisdom, as any other would have, knowing that it would only serve to make the young woman incredibly angry.
The brunette sat up, drawing her legs beneath her, bringing her very close to the older witch. Their eye never left each other, and Hermione felt a pang of want in her chest. She didn't understand it, or think about it. For once in her life she wasn't going to think before she acted. She wasn't going to question her first instinct or try to use logic. She followed her gut and leaned forward, pressing her lips carefully against those of the older woman. Breathing ceased, sound went silent. Nothing in the world seemed to move around her until she felt warm lips move against her own.
Then the world didn't exist. They were the only people in the universe and the rest seemed to fall away. Fire lit in her chest and spurred her on. Her hands threaded into short silver hair and tugged herself closer to the warm body of the other witch. She felt a tongue run along her bottom lip and she granted access without hesitation. Hands wrapped around her hips and tugged her to her knees, giving her full contact from her thighs to her to her arms wrapped around the strong neck.
Rolanda for her part, was struggling to make sense of this. Hermione had never showed any interest in her or women in general and she knew, that this was nothing more than raw emotions and post war trauma coming to a head, but she was powerless to fight it. She had watched the young witch mature and been drawn to her for longer than she cared to admit. She had wanted her for years and the contact with her was intoxicating. She dragged blunt nails across Hermione's back, over her night shirt and revelled in the sound of it, before the sound brought her back to her senses.
Reluctantly, she dragged herself away from lips that she had craved her braced her forehead against the younger one. "We can't, Hermione."
"Why not? I'm tired of being sensible. I'm tired of being the one that everyone looks to for the logical answer. I want to be reckless, just this once." The brunette tried to drag her back but she resisted.
"And that is precisely why. I won't be an after trauma affair for you. I can't. I know that this is nothing more that over wrought emotions and the need to feel close to someone, but I can't be that for you. I have watched you, wanted you for it would break me for you to decide later that this was nothing to you." Rolanda whispered.
"I don't think that is what this is-"
"You told me, not two days ago, that you were doing what your parents told you. 'Fake it, 'til you make it', Remember? You are still faking it, Hermione. I can't be your fake until you make it. I have no right to ask you not to be angry with me, but I am going to ask anyway. Please, do not be upset."
"Rolanda, I'm not angry. I took a chance and you said 'no'. I am not angry." Hermione rested her head against the taller woman's shoulder.
"Don't think that I don't want you, sweet girl." The older woman took the younger's face between her hands and made her look into her eyes. "I want you, more than I can tell you. I have wanted you since you were sixteen. I will always be here. I just want to give you time to heal. When you are done 'faking it', and you start 'making it', if you still feel the same, we can revisit this. Until then, I can't be with you, for your own sake."
Hermione smiled up at Rolanda. "I think I can do that, as long as you will still be my friend."
"I will always be your friend. That was never in doubt."
Neither expected the stunner that was shot towards Rolanda, or saw the transfiguration mistress storming down the hill towards them, fury written all over her face and her hair blowing wildly around her. "I know," her voice was low, dangerous. "I know that the last time we spoke, I expressly told you to stay AWAY from her."
Minerva was storming towards them as Rolanda sat up, her hand on her wounded side, and Hermione sitting next to her. She stood quickly, drawing her own wand and pushing the younger woman behind her. "Minerva, don't."
"Have you thought about this? You know nothing about her. NOTHING. You told me that there was nothing going on between the two of you and yet here you sit in a very compromising embrace. Tell me the truth, Hooch. What have you done?" The future headmistress sent another round of stunners towards the flight instructor, but the silver haired woman never had a chance to raise her shields. The stunners were blocked and Minerva's wand went sailing out of her hand and was caught in the outstretched fingers of the young witch.
Both women were left staring at her. She had never spoken a word but held the wand in nimble fingers flipping it this way and that, rolling in between her digits. "Tell me, Minerva. Since you feel the need to interrogate Rolanda on the conversation that I overheard the other day, have you forgotten what I said?" Her voice was low, diminished in its sadness. She didn't want to lose the older woman as a friend, but she could not stand by and let her dictate her friendships.
"Hermione-"
"No. No I won't let you do this to me. You don't get to decide who I see in my own time. I will associate with whomever I choose. Be that Rolanda, Harry, Ronald, or bloody Voldemort himself." she rolled her eyes when the two women in front of her flinched. "I think I need to go. I am leaving, for a few days at least. I can't handle this right now, on top of everything else."
Rolanda reached out grasped her arm before she had stormed off too far. "Be careful, and don't forget."
"I don't think I could forget if you paid me to." Hermione smiled at her. She stalked off, flinging the foreign wand over her shoulder straight at Minerva, who caught it, staring after her daughter.
Minerva waited, listening, until she heard the echoing crack of the young woman's departure. "You have no idea, do you?" The ebony haired woman asked.
"About what, Tabby? Do I have any idea why my best friend is attacking me? No I don't. Do I have any clue why you are so protective of her, above and beyond any of your other students, including Harry? Again, no. So why don't you explain it." Hooch snapped. She was tired of the looks and harsh words already.
"You wouldn't believe me if I tried."
"Try me."
Minerva sighed, and sat in the grass. "She is my daughter." she whispered lowly. So quietly in fact that Rolanda was certain she hadn't heard her correctly.
"What did you say?" The flying instructor hissed.
"She is my daughter, Hooch." Minerva emphasised this time.
"Tell me everything." The silver haired witch sat in front of her friend and listened, disbelievingly to the entire story.
A/N - All mistakes are my own, and my apologies for not getting this updated very quickly. It has been interesting lately. I know that I have a lot of excuses for it, but really, it is just me not really having the urge. Luckily, the urge kicked me in the teeth earlier. So here I am! As always, read and review. Please please please review, and let me know what you think.