Curled around Hermione, Minerva woke as the sky touching the horizon began to glow a cool pink. She could see the early dawn through the french doors that lead out on to her balcony terrace. Her internal clock rarely let her sleep past six, even on days where nothing pressing awaited her attention. She buried her face into Hermione's hair and inhaled; her little fox smelled like sandalwood and sunshine and the heather that grew on the moors surrounding the manor. Minerva closed her eyes, preparing to fall back to sleep.
"Minnie?" Hermione whispered urgently. She sounded distressingly awake.
"Hmmm?"
"Please tell me that isn't your mother watching us sleep."
"Seanmhair." Minerva groaned. "Grandmere."
"Even better," said the young witch sarcastically, then she turned over to face Minerva, propped her head on a hand, and looked at the older woman with soft eyes. With her free hand, she trailed a finger down Minerva's cheekbone and along her jaw.
"You are so beautiful, Minnie." Her hand traced down Minerva's neck, dipping briefly into the hollow at its base, and then continuing over her collarbone. Down, down the hand went, until it stopped just above Minerva's buttocks. Hermione used it to pull herself closer to Minerva, dropping her head onto the pillow and snaking a leg over the older woman's hip in the same motion. Minerva bit back a groan at the full body contact; she could feel Hermione's full breasts just beneath hers, could feel the soft skin of her inner thigh where their nightshirts had ridden up.
"You don't have to hide it or fight it, Minnie. I feel it, too." As if to demonstrate her point she ghosted her lips along the column of Minerva's throat and slid her hand more fully onto the older woman's ass. Minerva did groan then; and her hips twitched, bringing her hipbones into uncomfortable contact with Hermione's. It didn't matter though, every point of contact was maddening. Hermione whimpered very close to Minerva's ear. They both held very, very still, each afraid that their next movement would start something that neither of them were ready for.
"I never knew it could feel like this," Hermione breathed, her voice hot and moist against Minerva's scalp. "We haven't even done anything yet." She sounded a little incredulous.
"I know, mo luaidh, I know. But we had better stop." Minerva's voice sounded low and throbbing to her own ears. Hermione whimpered again, and all of a sudden, Minerva found herself on her back, pinned to the mattress between Hermione's thighs.
"Talking about stopping when you have sex fairly dripping from your voice is the very essence of ridiculousness, Minerva McGonagall." She grinned cheekily and slid off Minerva and off the bed, leaving the older woman nearly panting with the memory of the heat she could feel coming from between the younger witch's legs.
"You are going to be the death of me, aren't you, Hermione Granger."
"We won't be waiting as long as you think, Minerva." She gave the older witch a hungry look. "Not if I have anything to say about it. Now, where's a robe. I'm starving."
Minerva groaned and flung a hand in the direction of the bathroom. The younger woman found two robes on the back of the door, both of the same tartan - and cashmere - she found as she pulled them off the hooks. She slung one on the bed on top of a very shell shocked Minerva and then thrust her arms through the sleeves of the other. She found Minerva's lack of movement a little distressing.
"Don't fight your emotions so hard, Minnie," Hermione said softly. "They aren't your enemy." Minerva's brow furrowed and she turned to look at the woman who had perched next to her in the bed.
"How did you…?"
"I can see it - see you shutting down." Hermione smoothed a thumb across Minerva's cheek. "It's just us, here together, there is no need to hide from me, love."
"It's hard, 'Mione, to let myself feel. I haven't been open like this in many, many years."
Hermione favored her with a soft, understanding smile. "It's been like gravity, Minnie, ever since I left. Love pulled us back together, and what we have, what we're going to have, is beautiful. But you have to let me see what you're feeling - not just because your desire is thrilling to me, but because we're going to need to know how to read one another." Hermione allowed Minerva to gather her in her arms and relaxed into the older woman's strong embrace.
"I love you, 'Mione," Minerva sighed into Hermione's hair.
"And I you, Minnie. Now put your robe on and let's eat. I'm starving."
"I see how it is. You're just here for my house elf's cooking." Minerva's voice was light.
"Mmmmm," Hermione purred. "I am anticipating other rewards in the future, dear Tabby." She rolled off the bed and pushed the second robe towards Minerva.
As soon as Minerva's feet touched the floor, a tray of breakfast materialized on the pedestal table in the corner along with a tea service and chocolate pot. The day's paper was leaning against the chocolate pot, and a note from Tilley told them that a change of clothing for each of them waited in the bathroom, and that she had returned to Hogwarts to make sure the school's cadre of house elves remained on track in their preparations for the start of term.
After inhaling a plate of eggs and bacon and fried tomatoes, Hermione nibbled thoughtfully on one of Tilley's wild blueberry scones. Minerva was reading the paper and eating at a more leisurely pace.
"Did you even chew, 'Mione?" Minerva asked without looking up from her paper.
"I told you I was hungry. I don't know if its the magical drain or what, but I've been ravenous the past few days."
"Mmmm, probably. Why don't you shower. If you feel up to it, maybe we can go for a run before we have lunch, rather than just lounge the day away in the library."
"Yes! I'd love to. Can we do, you know," she wiggled her fingers nervously, "big forms? I need to practice."
"Hermione, we're not going to give my neighbors a heart attack. Schedule permitting, we can reenact the Ice Age in the Forbidden Forest next weekend."
"That sounds good. I want that form to be as effortless as my other one." She grinned. "It's pretty cool, now that doesn't completely freak me out."
"It is remarkable that the Heart can pull the entire being of extinct animals from its magical memory." Minerva peered at Hermione over the rim of her spectacles.
"The first time I changed into the Scimitar-toothed cat, I was attempting to surveil a family of dark wizards for the Auror Corps at Dumbledore's request. Needless to say, as a 14 stone prehistoric cat, stealth was no longer an option, and I was so unnerved that I was incapable of changing back." She chuckled. "I ended up running nearly 60 kilometers before I could calm down enough to change. Luckily, Dumbledore only had to Obliviate one person in the aftermath."
"You're going to have to tell me more stories about the things that you and Dumbledore got up to, because I'm sure the stuff that isn't terrifying is probably ridiculous." Minerva scowled at her, though her eyes were sparkling. "I could always ask Dumbledore…" Hermione said significantly.
"Cheeky witch." Minerva smiled softly at her young love. "Go shower. I want to take a nice long run."