I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!
Chapter Six.
It had been an awful and long night; after 4 hours of trying to sleep and being completely unsuccessful, Minerva decided to get out of bed. Her hips and thighs aching from the nights excursions, she paced the four walls of her bedroom for a half an hour, until she began to feel dizzy and needed a rest on the bed. Perching at the end, her left hand entwined around the oak post that was raised high, she began to sob. She placed her right hand over her mouth to muffle the cries of pain that ruptured from her lips, her forehead hurting from the frown that was causing tears to gush from the emerald eyes. The witch rocked back and forth slowly, drawing in deep gulps of air, her shoulders shuddering as she grieved.
"Stop this, Minerva McGonagall," She suddenly whispered sternly, slapping her hands on her thighs, "This is not you."
And standing from the bed, she glided to the bathroom, where her morning shower awaited her.
"Are you quite alright, Minerva?" Poppy asked, placing a gentle hand on the Headmistress' forearm.
"Sorry Poppy? Oh, yes..." Minerva replied, waving her hand in the air as dismissal.
She saw the concerned look Poppy had given her as the nurse's hand retreated back to her drink; she obviously looked haggard, otherwise Poppy wouldn't have asked. She sighed and looked around The Great Hall, her students chatting away noisily, many of them eating and drinking their weight in food, as children do. This is where I belong. Minerva recounted the times she had seen the three of them sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing and eating and plotting. She remembered the two boys, typical for their age, and the young, brown haired girl, witty and vibrant in every sense. She'd greet her Professor with a look and nod every morning, every evening, as she entered The Hall. She would smile and be stern all within the same sentence, keeping her boys in line; it was her job, the reason she was part of their group.
"Will you still be requiring to see us this morning, Minerva?" Rolanda asked four chairs down as she raised to leave breakfast.
The table looked at her warmly, sympathetic smiles on their faces; Minerva thought she must really look bad.
"Very well, we will cancel for today. Until tomorrow." She smiled, following suit of her staff and leaving The Great Hall.
Minerva sat at her desk, her classroom silent and empty. The light shone brightly through the windows, warming the cool stone walls. Minerva pulled a mirror out from the second draw of her desk, bringing it up towards her face and turning to the window. Looking at her features, she inhaled sharply; dark circles encased her eyes, especially underneath where the skin was beginning to sag due to crying; her eyes were puffy and still red, even though she had performed magic on them; she was looking more pale and gaunt than usual, her cheek bones no longer high and elegant but sharp and edgy; her skin was more wrinkled too, frown and worry lines erupting over her face as she stared into the mirror. Minerva felt embarrassed, that she, a woman of her calibre and status as Headmistress', had presented herself so in front of her staff. She was the highest, the person her staff looked up to and the one to set the example. It was as if she had lost control of herself, no longer knowing who she was, and there was no means of stopping it. She sighed and smoothed the skin on her face, realising it was rough and dry too.
"I thought I might find you here."
The most angelic voice that Minerva had ever heard spoke from the doorway of her classroom, the voice that had panted in her ear and asked for more during the most delicate of situations. Minerva gasped as she looked upon Hermione, closing the door behind her. She wore witches robes of teal, flowing and graceful in velvet. She walked toward the desk slowly and sat in the place she used to occupy as a student.
"I didn't think you'd come." Minerva stated.
Hermione smiled and bowed her head down.
"I know. But I wanted to."
Minerva stared at Hermione, who in turn stared back. For a few minutes, there was silence.
"Why did you leave?" Hermione asked quietly.
"I don't think that's an appropriate thing to discuss." Minerva replied in a dismissive tone, looking down on her desk and wiping it with the palm of her hand.
"I think I know... But I want you to tell me." Hermione said, as if Minerva had never spoken.
The elderly witch continued to look down, sweeping the desk with her hand. Through her peripherals, she saw Hermione leave her chair and walk closer toward the desk.
"Why did you leave me, Min?" Hermione asked again, sincerity in her voice.
Minerva looked up into the brown eyes, her heart leaping into action. She stood from her desk briskly and walked away from Hermione, unable to look at her again. She walked the half length of the room and stopped. Hand on hip, the other on forehead, she replied,
"It was a mistake, Hermione."
"No, it wasn't." Hermione replied.
"Yes, it was!"
"No."
"How would you know?" Minerva barked, still with her back to Hermione, her hand now dropping to pinch her mouth.
"Because Minerva McGonagall doesn't make mistakes."
Minerva stood silent. It was true; She'd always been able to catch herself before something drastic happened. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength.
"I think you're scared, Min."
"I'm not!"
"Then why don't you tell me?"
"I don't want to!" Minerva shouted again, this time turning to Hermione and pushing past her to start writing her next lessons objectives on the blackboard.
Tears stung the back of her eyes as she pulled her bottom lip in to stop it from trembling. Her other hand began clenching her robe in an uncomfortable fashion, trying to rid the pain in her heart. A hand had caught hers and removed the chalk, setting it down on her desk. Hermione brought both hands together, and looked deep into Minerva's eyes.
"What's going on, Min? This is not you."
Minerva's eyes widened, looking from one large brown eye to the next. She frowned and shook her head, unable for any more words to come out. The woman in front of her was also frowning, an encouraging but worried smile playing on her lips.
"Why are you here?" Minerva asked in a whisper.
Hermione sighed and took a deep breath in that caused her shoulders to rise.
"Because I care for you. You work so hard for everybody else, you don't have a second to be you. I've been trying now for weeks to get your attention, hoping perhaps that I was helping you come round to the idea that I feel a lot for you. I didn't mean for last night to happen the way it did, I did picture it slightly more romantic than a clumsy grope due to the wine on my part. But I was quite in my right mindset, I knew what I wanted and what I was doing, I remember everything, and I do not regret anything that happened, only that you left."
Hermione paused to draw breath, although Minerva couldn't say anything.
"I've enjoyed so much spending time with you the last few weeks, and last night meant more to me than you know. You're the reason I've been smiling, been able to get on with my job that needs my assistance all hours of the day, I've been able to pull through all of that knowing that I could be with you at the end of it."
Tears now trickled down Minerva's face; such raw emotion had never been presented to her like this, an ode of care and friendship. She didn't realise she was wanted, or needed so much by the woman. She shook with nerves and shock, having to take a seat with the help of Hermione. She held her head in her hand, her heart pounding and aching with happiness and sheer terror. Hermione now crouched down in front of her, her hand still encasing one of Minerva's.
"I want to make love to you, Min." Hermione said quietly.
Minerva looked up, frowning and hardly seeing through the haze of tears, mumbling a confused,
"What?"
"Please, Min? Let me make love to you?"
Hermione had closed the heavy drapes and lit candles, giving the room a darkened, romantic glow. Minerva sat on the edge of the bed, as Hermione had instructed her to do, watching as the woman administered to her bedroom. Minerva was sure she was going to wake up any moment now, pinching herself to make sure it was real; a small, red mark came up on her palm, two dark semi-circles in the middle where her nails had dug in. It began to bleed slightly, and she smiled.
"Now then." Hermione spoke, returning to Minerva.
The elder witch looked up into Hermione's face, her curls bouncing around her cheeks. Hermione took both of Minerva's hands and squeezed them tightly.
"I don't want you running out on me this time, ok?" Hermione asked, slight worry in her voice and a sudden pleading expression flashing across her face.
And it occurred to Minerva, not only did she rely on Hermione, but Hermione relied on her too. She brought the girl close to her, holding her tightly around the waist, hearing her heart beat thrum against her ear. Minerva felt her hair release from its usual tight bun, the ends hitting the sheets of the bed. Hermione ran her fingers through it, gently massaging the scalp as Minerva let out light moans of pleasure. Minerva stood, holding Hermione close by her shoulders. Towering over the younger witch, she initiated the passionate kiss that followed. Hands roamed and felt anywhere they could, never lingering for a second on any one part; there would be time for that later. The kiss was intense but caring, both sensual and comforting. Suddenly, Hermione broke the kiss. Minerva reached behind the younger woman's head to bring her lips back to her, but Hermione placed her hand above Minerva's mouth, smiling.
"What does gràdh, a rithist, mas e bhur toil e mean?"
"Pardon?"
"Last time, you spoke to me in a different language, you said gràdh, a rithist, mas e bhur toil e, I just wondered what it meant."
Minerva, unbelieving of herself, smiled and began to laugh. She threw head back, finally remembering the incident.
"My dearest, it is Gaelic. Gràdh, a rithist, mas e bhur toil e means literally, 'love, please, one more time' as there are some English words that do not translate into the Gaelic language, and the state that you put me in, I was finding words hard to come by as it was."
They both laughed, still holding each other close.
"But, what I was trying to say was: 'Please, my love, more, don't stop'."
Hermione smiled, a pink blush rising in her cheeks. Minerva began to unbutton Hermione's robes, the velvet feeling even more sensual on her finger tips. The younger witch's flesh began to show, rosy and creamy, which made Minerva's heart flutter and her head reel. Minerva bent low to kiss Hermione's collar bone and shoulder, resting in its warmth and darkness for a short while.
"Come, Min. Let's go to bed." Hermione whispered, smiling seductively.
De-clothing took no time at all, the sheets being kicked off of the bed took even less time, the tangled mess of legs and hands and hair was immediate within seconds. Hermione led above Minerva, kissing her neck and jaw line, her hands entwined with the elders and held next to her head on the pillows. Minerva bucked up into Hermione, their naked breasts sliding and pressing against each other causing unbearably pleasurable friction. Minerva's eyes were heavy, half lidded as Hermione saw to the much needed skin that had been too long neglected. She opened her eyes to see Hermione lift her head, smiling and smoothing her cheek.
"This is you." Hermione whispered.
With an even broader smile, the young witch began to trail sweet, burning kisses down Minerva's chest. Her breasts, now aching from the contact of Hermione's, were being wetted and kissed, easing Minerva slowly into pleasure. The elders eyes shot open, and for a moment, something seemed to come over her; she brought Hermione back up to her face by the shoulders, flipped her over and straddled her hips. Minerva now lay upon Hermione, in control and enjoying it. She began eagerly kissing the neck of the witch, squeezing her hips with both hands, suddenly needing to feel reality. She bit lightly at the soft, youthful skin, a rash now appearing where she'd administered. Minerva worked her way up to Hermione's ear, the woman beneath now groaning quietly and low in her throat. Using her tongue, Minerva caressed the skin that was now so open to her: She'd imagined this in her steamy dreams, for her to be the seducer and Hermione to give in to her every bidding. She dug her nails into Hermione's hips again, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave Hermione's mouth.
"Min, slower, gently, please..." Hermione pleaded, her eyes shut.
Minerva realised the damage she had done: Red marks trailed from Hermione's collar bone all the way up into her scalp, five deep purple grooves stood out from the creamy, voluptuous skin on each of her hips. The elderly witch new she had got carried away, felt stupid and worthless for being so rough with the girl for her own pleasures, and began to dismantle herself from the woman led beneath her. Hermione grabbed the waist of Minerva, pulling her forward once more. Once the elder witch was settled on the younger's hips, Hermione began to gyrate slowly beneath her, their organs pressing against one another. Minerva gasped as Hermione's face contorted in pleasure, her mouth open and her eyes screwed tightly shut. She threw her head back further, her brown curls spread across the crisp white pillows. Her hands pulled down on Minerva's hips, causing a warmth that spread from Minerva's organ, through her abdomen and up to her heart. With Hermione's guiding hands, Minerva too began to grind against the woman's hips. A sharper, more refined feeling shot through her this time, a moan shouting from her lips as Minerva tossed her head back. She lay her hands on Hermione's stomach, giving her more ground to push into Hermione, feeling the heat and wetness against her own. Hermione's hands still placed firmly on her waist, Minerva rocked until both were screaming and moaning. Removing her hand, Hermione placed it gently but firmly on Minerva's stomach. Minerva persistently ground against the hand that was making it increasingly more difficult, and finally gave Hermione a confused look. The youngest witch began to sit up on her elbows and squirm upward, Minerva lifting herself slightly so as to release her. The youngest woman finally settled herself sat upright, pillows supporting her. She brought her hands up and gestured for Minerva to come forward again. Panting and still moaning slightly from the tingling sensations that were happening below, Minerva slowly moved toward Hermione, straddling her thighs once again. Hermione drew one finger, down from Minerva's nose, past her lips, feeling her throat, chest, swirling around her tummy button, and suddenly, with no warning or hesitation, plunging gently and deeply into Minerva's swollen folds. One, two, three fingers entered her, each one making her gasp and groan until her breath was short. Her hair clung to her face as sweat dripped from her forehead, she could feel the tips bouncing against her bottom as she rocked on Hermione's hand, cupping her centre and filling it with pleasure.
Oh, how long Minerva had wanted to feel this. It had stretched in long years before Hermione was even born, back to Minerva's schools days. The loving tenderness of being with a woman, the sweet and subtle ways in which they make love, the flow of hair, the softness of skin, the understanding mixed with excitement.
"Hermione..." Minerva moaned, placing her hands on the witches shoulders to be able to ride more firmly on the hand.
Hermione's free hand had slid around Minerva, smoothing her back and cupping her rounded bottom. She felt wanted and beautiful, something she had never, ever felt. The stern, proper, long ago pronounced spinster Professor McGonagall was no more, and Minerva now sat rocking in her place. Confidence burst through her like a lightening bolt, and looking into Hermione's eyes, she saw the reflection of herself, now 20 years old again. The young girl who had kept a secret for 70 long and painful years, was now bursting through every pore on her skin. Hermione squeezed Minerva's bottom tightly, moaning quietly herself at the sight before her.
"Oh, Hermione, gràdh... more, more, more, harder..." Minerva panted, feeling Hermione withdraw slightly and place her thumb firmly down on the elder witches sensitive nub.
Minerva now moaned continuously, drawing breath and letting out another low groan of gratification. Her hips now bucked quicker, keeping pace with the hand that was massaging her insides and the soft flesh that caused so much pleasure to thrum through the eldest witch. She could feel herself tightening around Hermione, the familiar warmth spreading across her abdomen right down through her thighs. As the steady climb to climax began, she started to pant even louder, feeling her heart swell as the word she was forming couldn't be held in. She held Hermione's face in her hands, every grind now becoming too sensitive therefore becoming more shallow. With one, last thrust and a circling of her nub, Minerva came, her word loud and clear.
"Hermione!"
Over and over, the word burst from her, still gyrating on the ever steady hand that still lay inside of her. Finally, spent and sensitive, Minerva lay against Hermione, her chest heaving and aching. The young witch put her arms around her, summoning the bed sheets that had been disregarded in their haste. Wrapping them tightly around her and her lover, Hermione hummed quietly to Minerva, as the elder drifted off into much needed sleep.
Minerva's eyes shot open, firstly feeling the stiffness in her hips and the burning in her thighs. Then she remembered the reasoning behind why this was. She was still laying on Hermione, who was stroking her hair gently away from her face and down to the tips. The elder witch sat there for a while, too terrified to move; she didn't want it to end, waking up to this was the most wonderful thing Minerva had experienced in a very long time. Hermione kissed the crown of her head, and unable to hold the stance any longer due to the pain in her hips, she looked up into the face of her lover. Smiling vibrantly, Hermione was flushed and panting too.
"Hello, dear." She whispered, stroking Minerva's jaw.
"How long have I-"
"Only 10 minutes, not to worry." Hermione smiled.
Minerva was unable to take her eyes away from the creature that sat before her, and lengthening her long legs, she began to pull Hermione back down to a laying position. She kissed the young witch tenderly, Hermione moaning into Minerva's mouth. She played caringly with Hermione's nipple, arising to her administrations and hardening under her touch. Minerva gently suckled on Hermione's bottom lip, making the younger witch giggle delightfully, Minerva's heart expanding with the sound of it. And slowly with the hand that had been caressing the breast, Minerva smoothed down Hermione's hips and gently tickled the top of her opening. The younger witches smile soon faded, the giggle being replaced with gasps and mewling. Minerva let her finger slide down only slightly, and stopped, raising an eyebrow and smiling coyly.
"More?" Minerva whispered.
"Yes, oh god, Min, please, yes, more..."
With much delight and no haste, Minerva slowly slid her way down Hermione's lips and worked her way into the inner walls of the girl. Hermione's back arched and lifted Minerva, who began slowly gyrating in time with her fingers. Hermione wrapped a leg around Minerva's waste, meeting every thrust with her own. As they both began rocking together, Hermione moaned loudly, much more so than Minerva ever did. Her voice echoed in the dimly lit room as Minerva saw to both Hermione's opening and the pebbled flesh above that Hermione loved her to touch so much. She would scream and ask for more when Minerva touched her there, her fingers deep inside the younger woman. Her back would arch and her thighs would tremble, Minerva would play lovingly with her there, just balancing her on the threshold, making sure her climax didn't come too quickly. Minerva could feel Hermione contracting around her fingers, knowing the end was soon. Her hips sped up, but only slightly; she wanted to make love to the woman, not pound her. Hermione's mouth was open wide, the groans coming from deep within her throat. And as she climaxed, wet hot liquid spilling over Minerva's hand, she shouted,
"Oh, I love you Minerva!"
Again, her voice echoed through the room, as she panted her way through her orgasm, whispering the words once more. Minerva sat up, releasing herself from Hermione. The younger witch lay gently back into the pillows, panting with her eyes closed.
Minerva was sure she had heard the words come from Hermione's mouth, they echoed through her as they did the room. She daren't have asked Hermione to repeat it, for fear of embarrassing the young one. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs, beginning to shake and panic. She dismantled from Hermione quickly, pulled on her dressing gown, and ran to the bathroom to vomit.
A/N: TBC guys, sorry for the late update! Let me know what you think!