A/N: This chapter is a little shorter, but no less important! I am waiting for my betas to finish reviewing the next chapter (which returns us to Miranda and Andy). I will post it after I receive their feedback. Thank you for all the positive reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy! And for those who are celebrating the holidays, I extend my wishes that you enjoy restful, happy days.
Chapter 4
Hogwarts School, Scotland, Monday, April 7, 2014
Minerva sat on the sofa with a sigh. Well, she had felt change in the air. How right her instincts were. Miranda Priestly, formerly known as Miriam Princhek, had left her office less than an hour ago, sweeping away as she had swept in—producing a wake as evident as if a boulder had been thrown into the Black Lake.
Hearing the door to her private rooms open, Minerva smiled softly. Hermione. She must have finished teaching. In an hour they would eat dinner in the Great Hall with the addition of Miranda, whom Minerva had invited to be their guest. Feeling Hermione's presence behind her Minerva leaned her head back against the sofa and moaned softly when competent hands began to massage her shoulders. Such magical hands.
"Mmm, Love. I am glad you are back," Minerva rumbled, her voice low as she felt their bond thrum through her. Soft lips brushed the side of her neck, and Minerva moaned her approval. Arms found their way around her neck, loosely hugging her as teeth joined those addictive lips in eliciting reactions from her body. Minerva tilted her head to provide more access as her hands came up to cover Hermione's smaller ones. Breathing in deeply, Minerva closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, content to forget everything else, if only for a few glorious moments.
"What's bothering you?" Hermione whispered near her ear. Minerva's eyes flew open, and she sighed.
"You know me so well, Gràdh," Minerva murmured. She lifted one of Hermione's hands to her lips and kissed the knuckles gently. "Come join me, Hermione."
Minerva turned to her wife as she settled herself on the sofa, noticing the worried expression. Grimacing, she rejoined their hands and focused on the bookcases across the room while gathering her thoughts. "I had a visitor today," Minerva began. "It was Miranda Priestly."
"Caroline and Cassidy's mother was here? Why? Are they okay? Does Andy know?" Hermione interrupted.
Raising a hand to stem the flood of questions, Minerva felt herself smile even though the subject matter was quite serious. "Hermione," she admonished quietly. Hermione's contrite expression signaled that she was ready to listen. "You may recognize the name she was known by in the wizarding community: Miriam Princhek." She watched with interest as the expression on Hermione's face morphed into incredulity, quickly followed by excitement and then concern.
"What's going on, Minerva?" Hermione asked quietly.
"What do you know of Miriam Princhek?" Minerva said.
"She is one of the most revered dragon masters of our time, if not ever. She studied with Scamander and was instrumental toward defeating Voldemort and his followers during the First Wizarding War. And then about thirty years ago she just disappeared."
"Quite right. The Ministry of Magic reached out to her yesterday and asked her to return. They require her expertise to deal with a growing problem. Dragons are venturing out and attacking some of the hinterlands, seemingly without provocation. I am sure you know that Charlie Weasley was hurt just last month while attempting to corral a wayward Hungarian Horntail that had attacked a small village near the Malvern Hills. You remember the area?" Minerva asked coyly.
"Do I remember it?" Hermione chuckled. "Of course." Minerva watched her wife's eyes darken and cleared her throat. Now was not the time to become distracted.
"Yes. Well. As you know, that area is mostly wilderness and unpopulated. It is grazed by cattle and sheep, and the lower areas are dotted with farmland. And yet, even with all that livestock roaming around the countryside, the dragon sought out one of the farms and attacked the main house before traveling to a nearby village."
Hermione's gasp stopped Minerva's narrative. "The reports mentioned none of this!"
"No, they did not. The Ministry thought it best not to bring attention to what they deemed to be an unusual occurrence. Only it has happened several more times over the past few weeks. Miranda Priestly is quickly becoming our only hope to stop the problem before dragons begin to attack more populous areas," Minerva said.
"Wow. Andy is going to flip!" Minerva smiled wryly, turning her head away so Hermione would not see her response. "What?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
Sighing in resignation, Minerva admitted, "I believe Andrea will be seeing Miranda sooner rather than later. When Miranda left my office, she was off to see her daughters. They were just finishing their last class for the day—Charms."
"I don't suppose you warned Andy?" Hermione said dryly.
"It may have slipped my mind," Minerva answered facetiously. She smiled when Hermione slapped her on the shoulder.
"You are horrible!" Hermione exclaimed. Minerva nodded agreeably.
"Absolutely. Particularly since I was the one to suggest to Kingsley that he contact Miriam." Minerva turned toward Hermione. "She was one of my better students oh so long ago. Albus and I had tried to lure her into a teaching position here several times, but she preferred to work with the dragons. Nor did she desire to be accountable to anyone."
"From the stories Andy has told, it doesn't seem like much has changed. This ought to be interesting."
"Yes. Interesting," Minerva said, elongating the word just enough to make Hermione chuckle. Minerva's expression became solemn once more. "We have enjoyed relative peace and quiet since Voldemort was defeated. I fear we have become too complacent. These attacks are too suspicious—too unusual. They are unnatural and point toward a greater danger we may have overlooked. I can feel it, Hermione. It is lurking, hiding in the shadows and orchestrating these increasingly dangerous confrontations."
"You think something is provoking the dragons?" Hermione asked.
"Or someone. Several people, in fact. I cannot make sense of why the dragons would take such actions unless they were being threatened. Or controlled." Sighing loudly, Minerva shook her head. "Well, if anyone can determine what is happening, why the dragons are acting in this way, it is Miriam. She used to be called the Dragon Whisperer. Somehow she was able to communicate with the dragons. I've never seen anything like it."
"In the Muggle world they have horse whisperers and even dog whisperers. Merlin, they'd flip if they ever heard the term Dragon Whisperer!" Hermione said.
Minerva hardly heard the comment as she fell into her thoughts, musing that Miriam may determine what the dragons' motivations were but not how to convince them to stop their attacks. Minerva had already offered to help in any way, and she was sure that many others within the wizarding community would step up if needed. This worried her, since Hermione would undoubtedly insist that she provide any possible aid to resolve the threat. Dragons were powerful, dangerous creatures—Minerva did not want Hermione to be anywhere near them.
"There's something you are not telling me," Hermione said softly as she gently lifted Minerva's chin with two fingers. Minerva stared into worried eyes and grimaced.
"I am worried, Hermione. This has the potential of becoming much worse. I do not want anyone to get hurt." Minerva stopped talking, not wanting to voice her fears.
"You are afraid I will get hurt," Hermione said confidently.
Her thumb brushed against Minerva's cheek, reminding her that her chin was still cupped gently. She trembled as her eyelashes fluttered closed, not wanting to see those tawny brown eyes shining at her. They demanded the truth, and Minerva did not want to face it.
"Minerva, I have the same fears regarding your safety, I assure you. It is natural. I promise to be careful if it gets to the point where I become part of the solution. Okay?"
Minerva nodded but did not open her eyes. She could not.
A moment later soft lips brushed against hers, reassuring her that Hermione was right next to her and not elsewhere, hurt or dying. Minerva pulled Hermione toward her, wrapping her arms around her wife tightly as she initiated the next kiss. Again and again Minerva kissed Hermione, needing to feel her responses, her aliveness, her passion.
"Hermione," Minerva groaned, not able to get close enough. She needed more.
"Shhh, my Love. Let me take care of you," Hermione crooned.
In a haze, Minerva did not quite understand what Hermione meant until nimble fingers opened her outer robe and cupped her breast. Gasping at the contact, she felt her body respond. As Hermione guided her into a prone position on the sofa, Minerva wrapped her legs around the younger witch to keep her close. She needed Hermione closer. Closer.
A gasp urged Minerva to open her eyes. She experienced the dual sensations of seeing Hermione's glorious nude form undulating over her even as her fingers registered the silky skin flexing beneath them. Groaning loudly, Minerva lifted Hermione's body up enough so that her lips could latch onto a hardened nipple. Desire pounded through her as she tasted the dark bud and sucked it strongly.
Grabbing her wand, now on the pile of clothes next to the sofa, Minerva muttered a spell to transform the sofa into a bed. She needed more room to maneuver. Before Hermione could react, Minerva flipped them and pinned her wife down as she tasted perspiring skin. Minerva hummed, sliding her lips over a collar bone to rest on Hermione's pulse point. It fluttered wildly, and Minerva rejoiced.
Such goodness. Such passion. She couldn't get enough. Could never get enough. Nearly fifteen years together, and Minerva felt as if they still had so much left to explore within their relationship.
Hermione's shapely body thrust upward, but Minerva refused to be removed from her position. She realized she was not normally this aggressive, this dominant, but it was not the first time, and she knew Hermione trusted her implicitly. There had been times, particularly after harrowing experiences, when Minerva had felt insecurities rise up, the fear of losing this precious being overwhelming her, and such feelings had found release through this type of coupling—wild, uninhibited, raw.
She needed to feel powerful and in control. If only she could banish such undermining feelings as she had their clothes. But no. These feelings were primal. Not to be ignored. And Hermione knew just what to do. Instead of giving in easily, docilely, she fought like a spitfire and gave as good as she got. Minerva became more excited with that thought.
Nipping at the soft skin offered to her so freely, Minerva growled as she bit down hard enough to leave a mark. The low moan she heard urged her to continue even as Hermione twisted beneath her. "Do you want more?" Minerva whispered harshly against a flushed ear, nuzzling behind it and delivering teasing kisses. Hermione's whimpers were not enough. "Tell me!" she commanded.
"More. Yes! More, Minerva. I need you so much. Please!" Hermione said in a raw voice as if her words were being ripped from her soul.
Without pause Minerva thrust two fingers into Hermione's wetness, grinning in triumph at the proof of Hermione's desire. She pushed harder with each thrust, twisting and rubbing as Hermione shouted out her responses.
"More? Do you want more?" Minerva asked heatedly, her mind already calling forth the desired spell.
"Yes! More!" Hermione answered breathlessly.
"Engorgio," Minerva commanded and felt her fingers elongate and thicken. Wiggling her fingertips, she felt Hermione jolt as a long moan filled the air. Minerva had never dared try this before, but she wanted to fill Hermione as much as possible and still be able to feel Hermione's responses around her fingers.
Hermione's body glistened with sweat as she met every thrust with her body. Sliding down that addictive body, Minerva nudged Hermione's legs apart with her shoulders and latched on to Hermione's swollen clit firmly. Hermione's gyrations increased as she neared her climax, and Minerva pounded her fingers in and out faster as she unrelentingly sucked on the cluster of sensitive nerves. Hermione's body froze, hovering above the bed, and Minerva took the opportunity to slip a finger between flexing buttock cheeks as she continued with her other ministrations.
The effect was immediate. A scream, the likes of which she had never heard issued by her lover, ripped through the air, and Minerva might have become nervous if not for the forceful thrusts Hermione began, impaling herself deeper with each motion on the newest stimulus while Minerva continued to pound into her from the front. Turning her head slightly, Minerva nipped at the enlarged clit, earning an animalistic shout, and then sucked on it as her tongue poked at the nerve center forcefully.
It was times like these when Minerva wished she had more hands or an extra mouth. She wanted to do so much more, to own this woman's body, to make it overload in ecstasy. She felt Hermione's heated body contracting around her fingers and lightly scraped her teeth against the stimulated nub, hearing Hermione wail as the next orgasm roared through her. Minerva softened her movements immediately, helping Hermione's body come down off the physical high with soothing finger movements and soft suckling. When Hermione settled onto the bed entirely exhausted, Minerva withdrew her fingers gently. "Reducio," she muttered before joining Hermione and pulling her into a tight hug.
"Thank you," Minerva murmured as tears tracked down her face. "You are so precious to me. I couldn't bear to lose you."
"You won't," Hermione answered before their lips met in a languid kiss which continued endlessly. Wet, deep, erotic—Minerva lost her thoughts, her fears, everything was banished by these kisses except desire. And love.
Unlike Minerva's wild ministrations, Hermione made love to her as if she were the most priceless, fragile flower. Soft, sweeping hand strokes and thorough, endless kisses brought Minerva to her climax without her quite realizing it. With the release came more tears, but she was no longer afraid. This incredible woman, her soul mate, would remain by her side regardless of the circumstances.
Many would attest that they were a formidable team. So they were. They would face this latest challenge as they had met so many others—together.
Gentle fingers traveled across her cheek and down the column of her neck, resting on a collar bone. "Love, we must get ready for dinner," a tender voice said.
Sighing with pleasure, Minerva opened her eyes, realizing she had fallen asleep, and rested them on her disheveled wife, noticing the swollen lips, reddened neck, and flushed chest. She looked glorious. Minerva felt passion surge forth as she reached for Hermione.
"Uh, uh, ah!" Hermione said as she pulled back, a teasing smile on face. "Later, I promise. You invited Miranda to dinner, though, and it would look rather odd for you to not appear."
Frowning, Minerva conceded silently that Hermione was correct. "Later, then," she growled and arose. Stretching her arms over her head, Minerva's keen hearing caught a whimper and she smirked. Yes, definitely more would occur later.
Soon after showering and changing, they arrived at the Great Hall and made their way to the faculty table. The hall had begun to fill up, and the noise level indicated carefree students whose only concerns were exams and essays.
Minerva gazed around the Great Hall calmly, noticing the Priestly twins talking animatedly as they began to eat their dinner. A smile threatened her placid features, but Minerva was well-versed in hiding her emotions while on display.
She did note the absence of one faculty member, however. Andrea Sachs McGonagall, her only niece, was notably absent. As was Minerva's esteemed guest, Miranda Priestly. Biting the inside of her lower lip, Minerva reminded herself firmly not to smile.
Instead, she purred.
