I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!
Chapter Seven.
Clinging to the white porcelain bowl, gulping air into her lungs and wiping the sweat from her brow, Minerva felt shame start to riddle her.
"I don't want you running out on me this time, ok?" Hermione's words rung through her head, her brain buzzing and fuzzy with all that had happened that evening. Minerva felt emotionally drained, how could you have let this happen again? Resting against the cool toilet, she closed her eyes, frowning and pursing her lips; she had done exactly what Hermione had asked her not to. But then, the woman, who writhed beneath Minerva's touch and held her so steady and sure, had declared love to the elder woman so suddenly during climax, and not once, but twice through.
Minerva hung over the toilet again, sure she was to expel the rest of her dinner from her stomach, when the door to the bathroom creaked open. Someone knelt gently down beside her, pulling her hair to one side and out of her face. She rubbed the elder witches back gently, and leant closer to her face.
"Are you alright, Min love?" Hermione asked quietly, stroking Minerva's hair away from her sweating forehead.
Minerva reached up, pulling on the chain as she closed the lid of the toilet. She rubbed her eyes fervently, sitting cross legged on the cold stone floor. Hermione got to her feet again, smoothing Minerva's crown as she passed her to the sink, wet a flannel and returned. Minerva sighed deeply as Hermione placed the flannel on her forehead, the cool water dripping slowly into her brow.
"I didn't mean to-" Minerva began.
"I know." Hermione interrupted.
"No, Hermione, you don't... Please, I have a lot to say..." Hermione sat back a little, neither affronted nor offended by the way Minerva had spoken to her. "I didn't mean to run out on you, and I don't want you thinking that the sight of you makes me feel physically ill." Hermione chuckled to herself. "It's just, a woman of my age... It's very hard to hear... Oh, goodness, Minerva, get your words out... Your sudden declaration shocked me rather. And, although I am flattered, I am afraid I cannot accept it." Minerva turned away, tears in her eyes.
"Minerva. Are you telling me, after what we have just done, after those cries and pleas and moans, after the way you touched me, teased me, that genuine act of love making, the affection in your eyes, the sureness in your thrusts, the hunger and desperation in your kisses, that tumbling into bed, pure and naked and free, both of us together, all of that, everything that happened in your bed... Was nothing to you?" Hermione now stood, pointing to the door way, but still calm and serene. "Was all of that a lie to you?"
Minerva stood shakily, leaning on the toilet for support. Her heart hammered in her chest, threatening to burst; she was convinced she would have a heart attack and die, willing it to happen knowing this would be the easiest way to end it all; the heart ache, the constant pressure, the tears, the lies, everything. She clung to her robe on her chest, breathing steadily.
"I think you should leave, dear." Minerva quietly informed Hermione.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Hermione, please-"
"Minerva, I am not leaving you. Not in this state, I care too much about-"
"Stop it! Just stop it!" Minerva burst, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation.
"Minerva, why are you so closed? After what we just shared... Why can't you tell me what's going on?" Hermione asked with a confused look on her face.
Minerva was truly fighting with herself, the voice in her head screaming at her to leave the situation right now, her heart wanting everything and nothing.
"Hermione, you are a young, vibrant woman. You have absolutely everything going for you, a wonderful job, a homely place to live, the most beautiful looks..." She hesitated, looking in the brown eyes of the youngest witch. "I am an old woman. I am Headmistress of Hogwarts, almost at the end of my time here. Oh, I have plenty of years left, but not as many as you do." Looking away, she began to pace the bathroom. "I am tired, Hermione, and I cannot keep up the facade. You have divulged the fantasies of an ageing witch, but that is all."
Hermione stood still, shaking her head, her arms by her side and her shoulders drooping.
"That's not it." The youngest witch said firmly.
"Who are you to tell me what I do and do not feel?" Minerva's fight or flight senses were kicking in suddenly, expecting Hermione to have left by now.
"Look at me." Hermione said through clenched teeth.
"What?" Minerva replied, confused and angry, still pacing up and down.
"Look at me, and tell me you don't care."
Minerva's averted eyes stayed firmly on the floor in front of her, rubbing her chin with her right hand.
"Minerva, look at me! Look at me and tell me you don't care! Look at me, and tell me everything was a lie!" Hermione shouted, her fists clenched. "Look at me, and tell me you don't love me..."
Minerva could hear the words of her Mother in her head; how her parents had wanted so much for her to marry, have children, be the housewife whilst her husband went and worked. How all of her staff had wished for her to find love with a man that could entice and look after the stern, upper-crusted Professor McGonagall. How her brother had looked when she refused his best friend, how Albus had looked when she turned away from his advances. Minerva looked up into the face of Hermione.
"I don't..."
A silence fell between them. Although Minerva hadn't finished her sentence, Hermione had swooped from the bathroom back into the bedroom, and started to get her things together. Minerva kept back sobs and cried quietly in the bathroom, as she heard Hermione start to put on her shoes. She desperately wanted to tell the dear girl what was going on in her mind, and for the first time in 70 years, Minerva had found herself starting to trust someone: Hermione. Her heart pulled at her veins as she heard Hermione start to leave her bedroom, as though all would be lost if she didn't act now. She felt her life would be forever empty without having what she'd experienced the last few weeks. So stuck between a rock and hard place, for the first time in 70 years, Minerva McGonagall finally listened to her heart.
"Wait! No, Hermione! Please! Wait!" She cried from the bathroom, stumbling into the bedroom. Hermione was stood at the door, tears in her eyes and a disappointed look upon her face. "Please." Minerva pleaded, walking slowly toward the younger witch. "Please, don't leave me." She stretched out her hand to Hermione, whom just looked at it glumly. "Hermione?".
The young witch looked upon her lover again, and turning on her heel as she left the doorway.
"Oh, God, no, please Hermione!" Minerva pleaded, following her through the door.
A dread like no other filled Minerva, as if her last breath were about to come.
Hermione stood by her drinks cabinet, her bag resting on the armchair closest to the fire. Two glasses were ready to be filled, Hermione uncorking a bottle of red wine. She poured two generously and sat by her bag, staring into the fire. Minerva walked slowly around the back of the sofa, wiping tears from her eyes, taking the glass in her hand and taking a large gulp. The red wine made her wince slightly, the sourness of the grape sending a shiver down her body. She took another sip, which seemed to taste better. Sitting on the sofa adjacent to Hermione, Minerva stared longingly at the younger witch. Her heart expanded with glory and joy; looking into her glass, she began.
"When I was 6, I realised I wasn't like many witches. I enjoyed all the usual things; dressing up, putting on dainty robes, dancing. I also enjoyed riding on brooms, swinging from trees and getting dirt on my knees looking for bugs. Hard to believe, I know, but true none the less. By the age of 8, I knew why I was different: I wasn't interested, unlike my girl friends, in boys. I didn't want to date; I didn't swoon over posters of the newest boy bands, I didn't try and get their attention by acting silly. I felt uncomfortable if a boy came too near me, putting his arm around me when we played at the park. By the age of 11, I realised my real differences: I wasn't like most witches', I didn't run after boys, and most importantly, I was attracted to girls. I liked the way their hair flowed, their hips curved... everything that a man could never be. I began to fantasise about girls at school, both my age and older, even some of my teachers. I tried so desperately to rid myself of the notions I was having, knowing my Mother, Father and Brother would disapprove, possibly even disown me. I spent my school years day dreaming of love and lust; I was young, slender, with black hair that curled beautifully. My skin was smooth, my eye lashes long, and I caught the attention of many. It was when I was 16 I had my first kiss, a young girl named Danica took me around the back of the broom shed for a quick smooch and fondle. My heart raced wildly, and as I watched the girl walk away from me, I was in love. I couldn't help myself, my fantasy becoming reality, youth and looks on my side. We kept our, what you could call 'relationship', to ourselves. We would find quiet corners of the castle, sneak out after curfew to the edge of the forbidden forest where we would make love. I'd felt ashamed and embarrassed every time we became intimate, thinking of my parents faces if they knew. Eventually over time, our elicit affair seemed too dull for Danica, and she moved on. I vowed to move on too, throwing myself into my studies. After this, I only ever kissed girls; drunken nights to them, a friendly kiss with her girl friend, but to me, so much more.
"After my studies I travelled, wishing to forget my time at Hogwarts girls. My Mother and Father disapproved of my leaving for other countries, concerned that I hadn't found a man to settle down with. I threw myself into many a woman's bed on my travels, only to leave before she woke, feeling like I wanted to die. I returned to England when my Father sent for me, Mother had fallen ill and was on her death bed. I rushed as soon as I could, and as I sat with her, her last breath drawing near, she asked if I'd found anyone to love. When I replied no, she closed her eyes, a painful upset smile on her face as she passed into the next life. And I vowed, from that day on, that I would never divulge in such acts again. I would ignore my very being, the shame and guilt too much for even me to handle. For years I hid myself away, only knowing what I truly am; a lesbian. I tried so hard Hermione..." Minerva broke into tears, Hermione now looking at her. The younger witch moved to the sofa next to Minerva and placed a gentle hand on her knee. Wiping away the tears and raising her hand, Minerva continued,
"I tried so hard to be the woman my family wanted me to be. And I am not. But only I, and now you, know that. I fear that, if I were to enter into a relationship with a witch, what people may think of me. I am Headmistress, what would parents think of coming to the school under the hand of someone like me? My staff; they will feel uncomfortable and none of the women will ever be able to talk to me alone again..."
Minerva placed a hand to her mouth, the other one had subconsciously covered Hermione's still resting on her leg.
"Minerva... Why didn't you tell me? You've been keeping this bottled up for... For 70 years?"
Minerva closed her eyes, nodding her agreement.
"Come here to me." Hermione said, opening her arms.
Minerva rested on Hermione's shoulder and wept, the younger witches arms wrapping around her shoulders and head.
"You are so stubborn. Everybody loves you for who you are, Minerva. You are intelligent, kind hearted, up-front when needed to be, caring, witty, and to me, you are beautiful. I love you Minerva, and if you'll let me, I want to try and help you." Hermione leant back to look into Minerva's face.
"You can't help me, Hermione. I am an old dog; a new trick is beyond my talents now." Minerva sat up, wiping her face once more.
"You must try Minerva. All of your family are gone now. Stop living in the past, it is time to start anew." Hermione said, rubbing Minerva's face with her hand. "We will take care of each other, and it'll just be between us until you're ready, ok?"
A/N: Epilogue to follow my lovelys!