A/N: Firstly, let me say thank you for the very kind reviews! They are definitely appreciated. I do hope this story is enjoyable to everyone. This was originally a one-shot of a scene that just would not get out of my head, but as I have found out, I tend to get very wordy. So, that's how we have gone from a one-shot to a three chapter story. I should have the final chapter out sometime this coming week. Hopefully, it's to everyone's liking :-)
Chapter 2
Feeling the distinct pull behind her naval, Minerva was propelled through the fabric of space to the unknown locale determined by whoever planned the masque. Coming to an abrupt stop at her destination, the Headmistress fought off the slight nausea that portkey travel always gave her. For an inexplicable reason her mind traveled back to a Muggle book she had read several decades prior, at Albus' request, about space travel through tesseracts. She wondered momentarily if the author had ever inadvertently touched a portkey, the description of her tesseracts was quite similar to portkey travel.
Or maybe she was a seer, Minerva thought wryly as she recalled the plot had something to do with children defeating a great darkness. Shaking her head at the direction of her thoughts, Minerva focused on the protkey that had brought her here (wherever here was). She thoughtfully considered the black, silk square of material. Her fingers glided over the two meticulously woven blood red capital Ms on the border of the square before she carefully tucked the handkerchief into her right sleeve. Leaving the thoughts of meaning and importance of the item for a later time, the Headmistress followed the path at her feet. Taking a deep breath, she finally noticed the smell of pine. Scanning her surroundings, she noted she had arrived in a small clearing that was surrounded by, from what she could see, an impressive forest.
Walking out of the tree line, Minerva felt herself pass through a barrier. She knew instinctively that her magical signature had just been read. The Headmistress was more than a little impressed at the security measures taken for the party. The locale of the ball was secret, accessible only by a premagicked portkey that activated only at a specific time on the date of the masque. And, a barrier barring anyone whose magical signature did not match the invitation list was erected in order to maintain the secrecy of those behind the masks but also assure their safety. Minerva knew the masquerade was bound to be full of politically minded people if so many precautions were taken to ensure its safety.
The thought of spending an entire evening in the company of people whom she normally attempted to avoid did not appeal to the woman. But, she could not deny the thrill of excitement that went through her every time she thought of being in the company of the female third of the Golden Trio. Pace unconsciously quickening, Minerva let her thoughts wonder unrestrained for a moment. Five years of corresponding with an intellectually stimulating woman who challenged her mind at every turn. Five years of getting to know Hermione on a deeply personal level, so much so that it challenged her boundaries of comfort and demanded reciprocity. Five years of sharing details of her everyday life, hopes, and dreams with someone who encouraged her passions and assuaged her fears. Five years of falling deeper in love with someone her mind protested, but her heart adored, and her body wanted. Five years of wanting a face to face meeting. Five years of interminable wait would be over tonight.
Cresting the small hill, the Headmistress paused at the grandeur before her. Sat atop a hill, standing tall and unmovable was a magnificent castle; in scope, smaller than Hogwarts, but in no way less striking. Torches illuminated a cobblestone path to the entrance. Tall, solid oak doors splayed open in welcome to the masked revelers walking the path to the castle. Resuming her brisk pace, the Headmistress quickly reached the entrance. Heart beating wildly, she walked through the doors into the spacious foyer that was crowded with excited people filling the high ceilings with chatter and laughter. The intrigue of secrecy creating a palpable atmosphere of exhilaration among the crowd.
"Aren't you one handsome devil?" Came a sultry voice from behind her. Minerva turned and almost let out a bark of laughter at immediately recognizing Xiomara. The flying instructor was decked out in her usual Quiddictch referee outfit. Her short, spiky, grey hair looking windswept, broom held in her right gloved hand, and goggles serving as her mask (though, they did not hide her face in the least) made her recognizable at a distance.
Feeling the effects of all the excitement of the night, Minerva allowed a wicked smile to play over her features. She stepped closer to the slightly shorter woman, minding to keep a respectable distance despite her playful attitude, "Thank you, Xiomara," she did not try to conceal her voice, "I shall keep that in mind when you're up for evaluation." She let her smile broaden, "I'm sure you'll be outstanding in all categories with compliments like that."
Minerva chuckled at the widening of her friend's eyes. "Oh my God," came the shocked response as yellow eyes roved over her once again, "I don't think I've ever seen you in anything but your robes," her eyes made another pass over the stunning woman, "you certainly know how to do yourself up."
Smiling genuinely at Xiomara, the Headmistress felt tension she did not know she had been carrying dissipate slightly. "Only on special occasions," she playfully lobbed back.
"My, my Headmistress," hawk eyes narrowed knowingly, "Who are you trying to impress?"
Picking up a flute of champagne from one of the roving wait staff, Minerva shrugged her shoulders before taking a sip of the alcohol. "If ye keep yer eyes open, ye may find out," she answered evenly, though lilting slightly into her Scottish brogue her tone did not betray the ribbon of nervousness that shocked her system, "Now, if ye'll excuse me, I've an admirer to unmask." Sweeping by the other woman, Minerva moved easily through the crowded entryway. People unconsciously recognizing the confidence, authority and grace with which she walked moved out of her way and gave her wide berth to move freely in the packed environment.
Entering the Great Hall of the castle, Minerva let out a low growl of frustration at the sheer number of people present, "I cannae believe this." It seemed that half the Wizarding world had been invited to the masque. Scanning the crowd, she noticed various people she recognized immediately but generally she had no idea who was hid behind the seemingly endless masks in the crowd, "This mey prove an arduous task."
Nursing a quickly warming glass of champagne, Minerva tried to find a way out of the circle of people she found herself caught in. Her mind was already slightly fuzzy at all the alcohol she had consumed to stay sane throughout the evening, and this discussion on some piece of legislation was not helping her condition in the least. At the first lull in conversation she excused herself. Needing a breath of fresh air, she exited the Great Hall and meandered her way aimlessly until she found herself staring up at the stars dotting the night sky.
Breathing in deeply, the animagus enjoyed the cool air. It felt cleansing after the oppressing heat of so many bodies in the Great Hall. Leaning back against the stone parapet, Minerva sagged in disappointment. She searched for Hermione for the better part of the evening. She had moved through the throng of people meticulously. She had joined circles of conversations ranging from magical creatures to Muggle relations in an attempt to find some clue as to Hermione's whereabouts. She had talked to countless women who made her heart skip a beat at the possibility of being the one she wanted but was let down each time. She had denied several invitations for dances from men and women as the night wore on. On those occasions, Minerva had felt eyes following her every move but she could never seem to pinpoint the location the scrutiny was coming from. The alcohol might have been to blame for the deadening of her senses, but there was only so much boredom the woman could stand.
Closing her eyes and not thinking about anything for a moment, the animagus simply enjoyed the muted tones reaching her ears of the jazzy music the band was currently playing in the Great Hall. At the inception of the evening, the Headmistress was unsure if she dreaded or desired meeting the young woman, but having been thwarted in her effort at finding Hermione, Minerva only felt an ache in the middle of her chest. Rubbing the middle of her chest in an attempt to assuage the ache, the witch contemplated leaving the party she was not even enjoying and trying to contact Hermione at another time.
Snapping her eyes open and standing erect at the sound of approaching footsteps, the witch readied her wand out of ingrained habit. Seeing the silhouette of a woman, she relaxed marginally. Something about the woman's gait intrigued Minerva. Studying what she could see, the Headmistress tried to identify who she was. Even though she was fairly certain she had not lain eyes on her all night, the woman seemed familiar. Green eyes slowly appraised the figure before her.
Unconsciously licking her lips, Minerva practically devoured the woman before her with her eyes. A fox mask mostly hid the woman's face, except for deep brown eyes peeking through the eye slits and plump, red lips that were drawn in a small smile. The animagus' green gaze took in the wild mane of brown curls falling unrestrained down the woman's back before moving down a slender neck and the expanse of skin the woman's shirt exposed. The billowy white shirt clung to the edge of each shoulder and scooped to reveal just enough cleavage to tantalize. Swallowing thickly, Minerva's eyes moved down the tiny waist accentuated by a black sash tied around it to the full, ruffled, multicolored skirt to dainty feet that she thought were bare for a moment before noticing the thin sandals the women was wearing. The costume was not overly revealing or risqué (as some she had seen that night) but the longer Minerva stared at the woman the faster her heart beat against her ribcage.
The stranger finally broke their standstill by slowly closing the distance between them. Minerva stood transfixed at the lithe grace in the woman's movements. She could only stare (her voice having mysteriously deserted her) as a small, delicate hand was outstretched in her directions followed by a voice she had only heard in her dreams for the past five years, "Could I have this dance?"
TBC