Chapter Four
Minerva frowned at the room in front of her. It seemed oddly familiar, and yet she knew she'd never been here before. Then, on the fireplace mantle, she saw a familiar Muggle photograph. It currently sat at her bedside in her dorm, an image of her parents on their wedding day. "What in Merlin's name? What is this place, Hermione?" she asked, picking up the frame.
Hermione sighed. "Your quarters at Hogwarts, before you move to the Head Tower after your promotion to Headmistress. This moment from my memory is in the beginning of May, nineteen ninety eight. You see, while I am a Dagworth, I'm not actually Olivia's daughter. I'm her great-great-granddaughter, and I am from the future."
The Scottish woman's mouth opened and closed several times in shock, searching Hermione's face for some lie. When she found none, she took a deep breath, and nodded. "Go on."
"I'm certain of your future and am adamant we take care not to disrupt it, because I've seen it," she continued. "Minerva, you can't comprehend, now, how important you are and will be to the future of the Wizarding world. By my time, your name is already in history books."
"While I'm still alive?" she yelped.
Hermione chuckled. "Very much so. You'll teach Transfiguration for years, become Head of Gryffindor, and then Deputy Head. Your insights into the field of Transfiguration will be published in journals almost monthly, and your summers will be spent largely traveling around to speak at conventions internationally. You pioneer Transfiguration-applied dueling to a whole new level, becoming an icon of not one, but two Wizarding wars, one of which is on your doorstep even now. Then, in ninety-one a girl called Hermione will come to Hogwarts, and in her Third Year you'll give her access to a Time Turner so she can take every bloody class on the roster. You'll let her have it again when she returns for her Eighth Year, her Seventh having been interrupted by the second war. Then, you and that girl will begin to get to know one another. The war changed the dynamic between the two of you. Beyond being teacher and pupil, you were soldiers fighting together, and it made you equals. She develops feelings for you, but despite her casual flirting, you'll hold back. Then, you start telling her about your school days, and one night you tell her about your final year here and in passing about a Professor Dagworth who taught Defense. She'll be on her way back to dorms that night and a part of a corridor will start to cave in. She goes for the Time Turner, thinking if she could just not be there then, she would survive."
Minerva was wide-eyed at this point. "Then you woke up more than fifty years in your own past," she said, beginning to put things together. "You went to the Dagworths for help because they are your family, however removed, and they agreed to provide you with a cover story. You remember my older counterpart telling you about having a Professor Dagworth, so when you realized the Defense Position was open…"
"I applied," Hermione said, nodding. "Yes."
"So you felt something for me, even when I was decades your elder?" Minerva asked, putting down the picture frame she'd been clutching, and moving over to a sofa in front of a bay window.
Hermione joined her. "Oh yes. I'd hoped that you'd be willing to see me as more than a friend after I graduated, so I was waiting to push you. When I realized, after arriving here, that I'd be teaching you, I honestly expected a similar response from you. I didn't think you'd bloody push."
"Yes, well," Minerva said, shrugging. "Gryffindor. We're rather known for being a bit pushy. So what now, Hermione? I mean, are you staying, or are you looking for a way back to your time? I can't choose not to love you, so that's not the issue here, but I'm trying to sort out in my head what exactly our future is going to look like. Did the Minerva you know ever mention having a partner in her life?"
"She rarely spoke of her personal life," Hermione admitted. "I do know she was briefly married, before being widowed, in the early eighties. By accounts he was a good man, Minerva. You'll meet him for the first time in a few more years."
"A man?" the Scottish woman asked, wrinkling her nose.
The Defense Professor laughed. "I got the impression the marriage was one more about companionship than sexual intimacy. As your older counterpart briefly told it, you were both lonely, and facing a great deal of grief. It happened right after the end of the first war."
Minerva looked out the window in front of her, for the first time noticing the fact that the Hogwarts out this window was not the Hogwarts she knew, but rather was covered in rubble and in places, burning. It looked like there had been a devastating battle. "What in the bloody hell…?" she asked, leaning forward to get a better look.
"This is what Hogwarts looked like after the final battle of the second war," Hermione said softly. "I wasn't kidding, when I told you before, that I'd seen a great deal of time on the front lines. I was a child soldier, Min. This battle was the last of many, although it was months before the Aurors finished rounding up the last of the Death Eaters, even after this."
"What's a Death Eater?"
"Enemy soldiers," Hermione shrugged. "Supporters of a Dark Lord who refused to bloody die."
Minerva looked at her critically. "Why are you being vague about some things but detailed about others?"
Hermione sighed. "Because your impulse control is shite, and the future depends on neither of us doing anything to change what is meant to come to pass, good or bad. The ripples through time would be too hard to predict. You might save someone you cared for, and end up killing two others as a ripple. You don't know. You can't know."
"Can you tell me some things about the future? Things that are good and I can look forward to?" Minerva requested timidly. "All the death and destruction just makes me feel pretty hopeless."
The other woman smiled softly. "Let's talk a bit about your friends. You shouldn't tell them, but perhaps you'd like a peek into what's to come for each of them?"
Minerva grinned. "Brilliant. Elise?"
Hermione frowned slightly. "I'm not actually completely sure about her. You talked about her a good deal, but only in the context of your time at Hogwarts together. I do know, through a friend of mine's Godfather, that there was an Ollivander who married a Squib from the Black family, who'd been blasted off the family tree. I don't know what became of them, but that could well have been Elise. The time frame fits from the records I saw."
"What records?"
"Black family tree, inside Grimmauld Place."
"What in Merlin's name were you doing there?"
She smirked. "Hanging out with the current Head, who happened to be my best friend's Godfather. Who next?"
"Genia?"
Hermione smiled brightly. "You'll enjoy this. Genia will marry Melok. The two of them will have a son together. His name is Filius. He'll be a Ravenclaw like his mother, destroy Wizarding society's perception of Goblin half breeds by taking a pile of Dueling championships, and going on to become Charms Professor here at Hogwarts, and Head of Ravenclaw House. I never had the opportunity to meet Genia in my time, but I fought with Filius in the war, and had him as a Professor. You two are quite close, which didn't make sense to me until you told me you and his mother were good friends. The pair of you spend more time debating the finer points of dueling than you do having civil conversation. He's your Deputy, now."
Minerva grinned, appreciating a story that didn't have so many question marks. "Alright then, what about Roland?"
"Like Elise, I don't know too much about Roland. I think he marries a Quirke, as there was a girl a few years below me in school, Orla Quirke, who mentioned that Oliver Wood, who would be Roland's son, was her cousin. Oliver, for the record, is as Quidditch mad as you and Roland are, if not more. I remember once, there was an attack and a Quidditch match had to be canceled, and Oliver knew full well what had happened, but it didn't seem to matter to him. He just marched right up to you and said, Professor, you can't cancel Quiddich! with this expression on his face that made it seem like he was dead sure you'd understand and reconsider the decision."
"What did I say?" Minerva giggled.
"Same thing you say to his father when he's being unreasonable," Hermione teased.
"Silence, Wood," the Scottish woman said, voice firm and commanding. "I bet my older self had a laugh over that one. Alright, what about Iggy?"
"Ah. Ignatius I can tell you a great deal about," Hermione grinned. "I'm quite close to a number of his descendants. He marries Lucretia Black, and they have four children. Three sons, and a daughter. None of their sons went on to have families of their own that I'm aware of, but that's not the branch of the family I know so I could be wrong. Their daughter, Molly, eventually marries Arthur Weasley, and the two of them go on to have seven children. Six boys. One girl. You never said, but I am fairly certain your ability to deal with two of Molly and Arthur's boys - twins - is simply because they are so like Ignatius."
"Oh, Gods," Minerva said, aghast. "One of him is trouble enough! Two would be a nightmare!"
"You survive them, I promise," the older woman assured her.
"What about my family?" she asked next. "My brothers, I mean. Surely they had families. Rob is already married, and Mal is seeing Katrina Green and I'm fairly sure he's serious about her."
Hermione sighed. "I don't honestly know. I inquired after your family a number of times in interest of knowing you better, but your family was a subject you were quite reserved in speaking about. You did mention a niece named Maisie at one point, but I haven't the foggiest when she'll be born, or who her father will be."
Minerva leaned back, considering the situation at hand. "Likely I didn't want you to be put in a situation, knowing you were going back in time, to make a choice between lying to me or telling me things I may not want to hear about my family's future. That suggests to me, Hermione, that my older counterpart believed that you'd come back some day, and she'd have to face the music of what she chose to share or not share."
Brown eyes widened in new understanding. "That's astute."
"Not terribly difficult to get inside my own head, you know," the Scottish woman teased. "Even if it is my old head. Hey, am I at least decent looking in my mid seventies?"
"You don't look a day over forty five," Hermione smirked, "and you could look like a frog and I'd still want to be with you."
"A frog, oh?" came an easy laugh. "What about a toad? Do I still have your love if I look like a toad?"
Hermione stilled, hand unconsciously moving to rub the back of her left hand. "Sorry," she said after a pause. "I'd love you no matter what, although I'd really prefer if you not compare yourself to a toad. That brings up some unpleasant memories."
"Tell me," Minerva urged, seeing the other woman beginning to shut down.
"I have scars, darling," Hermione whispered. "I have scars caused by things I can't talk about, because you can't hope to understand. You don't have context yet. You don't know about Harry, for Merlin's sake. It blows my mind that you don't know about Harry. Yet, he won't be born for years. Hell, his parents aren't even born yet. Everyone in the Wizarding world knows his name in my time, but you don't. Not here, not now, but my scars are the story of a war that he is central to, and I can't…"
Minerva watched as tears began to fall down Hermione's face, the emotion welling up in her overwhelming the other Witch. She leaned forward and caught Hermione's lips in a kiss, fingers threading through her riotous curls. The older Witch reciprocated with raw feeling, pulling Minerva down on top of her as she fell back and lay on the sofa, the Scottish Witch straddling her, relishing in the little moans Hermione let out as Minerva's hands moved under her shirt and up over the bare skin of her torso, although in fairness, feeling Hermione's hand snake up under her skirt and grab her arse left her gasping in pleasure as well. "Want to touch you everywhere," she whispered.
"Bedroom," Hermione muttered, vaguely waving toward a door on the other side of the room.
It made sense, Minerva mused. This was a representation of her own future quarters. Of course it would include a bedroom, and presumably, a comfortable bed. She reluctantly pulled away from the other woman and pulled Hermione to her feet, barely breaking the kiss as she did, and taking the opportunity to unzip Hermione's pencil skirt much as Hermione was unbuttoning her shirt. By the time they made it to the bedroom door, Minerva was down to her bra and skirt and Hermione was down to her knickers and blouse, both barefoot, as their shoes had been lost over by the sofa. She didn't bother taking in the sights of the bedroom other than to locate the bed, tumbling back onto it and pulling Hermione down on top of her. She hissed in pleasure as the Defense Professor's lips moved down her neck and over her torso, as nimble fingers made quick work of her skirt and pulled that away.
At that point, Minerva grabbed her soon to be lover and flipped her over, sitting astride her as she began unbuttoning her blouse. Hermione sat up briefly to pull the garment off, Minerva taking the opportunity to unclasp her bra, smirking a little as Hermione deftly unclasped her bra at the same time and tossed it to the side. As they came back together, the only thing separating them were knickers, although Minerva thought they'd soon be gone as well. Tongues danced, limbs tangled, and the pair tossed and turned on the bed as they continued vying for dominance.
Eventually, it was Minerva who surrendered first, as Hermione slid down her body, and then bit down on the inside of her thigh, hard enough to be painful, but close enough to the apex for it to be deeply arousing. "Oh, Gods," she muttered, muscles going limp and all fight leaving her. Minerva's core throbbed, begging for attention, and she gasped as Hermione nuzzled at the slip of fabric that guarded it.
"Yes?" Hermione whispered, asking permission to cross the final line.
"Fuck, yes," she groaned, squirming. "Please, Hermione. Please don't stop."
Hermione slid her knickers down her legs slowly, and then kissed her way back up even slower. As she neared the upper part of Minerva's thighs, she began to nibble on the sensitive flesh, earning gasps of pleasure and whispered expletives from her lover. Then, almost painfully slowly, Hermione's tongue swept at Minerva's center as her hands snaked around to hold her hips in place. It didn't take her long to begin picking up the pace and narrowing her focus to the bundle of nerves that she must know would drive Minerva mad, at which point the Scottish woman was clawing at the sheets and lost in sensation, waves of pleasure crashing over her.
"You're so close," she heard Hermione say softly.
Then, she let out a low, throaty moan as Hermione sank a couple of fingers inside her and began thrusting, angling her assault in just the right way to hit her g-spot. "Fuck," she let out, hips bucking wildly. She almost expected, as lovers had done to her before, for Hermione to begin licking at her again as she continued finger fucking her, but the other woman adjusted her position and lowered her mouth to a point just above her pubic bone, and began to swirl her tongue around. "Holy fuck," she swore as an orgasm raced through her, stronger than she typically experienced, with waves that churned instead of rippled away. Her heart was racing.
Hermione wasn't through. Fingers removed, she moved her mouth back to Minerva's core, intently focusing on the Scottish woman's clit. Minerva might have fought under the intensity of feeling if her muscles weren't completely limp from the orgasm that had just ripped through her. She couldn't think of anything but the feeling as another began to build, intense and sharp, and then exploding inside her as Hermione's teeth quickly nipped at the bundle of hypersensitive nerves. She was sure she'd screamed, but in the moment she could hear nothing, and see nothing. She could only feel as her body lay limply on the bed and Hermione's lips trailed kisses slowly up her body, half shuddering as those lips found particularly sensitive spots.
Eventually, Hermoine lay next to her, propped up on her elbow, and brushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "You okay?" she asked.
Minerva huffed. "I can't feel my legs. Or arms. I'm fabulous. Merlin, Hermione, you're incredible. I need a minute to recover here, but don't think for a second you're not getting similar treatment. Granted, at some point I'll have to get back to dorms."
Hermione offered a soft smile. "Mother has been badgering me to talk to you. I talked to you. If it happened to take all bloody night, then she can be helpful in covering for you to your dormmates and saying you were in the Hospital Wing. Stay with me?"
"Alright," she agreed, muscles protesting as she rolled a bit and snuggled into Hermione's embrace. "Of course, Olivia isn't technically your mother."
The Defense Professor kissed her shoulder. "Technically, but my real Mum is gone, where I come from, so let me enjoy having one again while I can. It's been nice."
Minerva didn't know what to say to that. She got the feeling she was only beginning to scratch the surface as to what her lover had lost and gone through, and while a large part of her wanted to know so that she'd be better able to support Hermione, she also understood that knowing would mean knowing some of the horrors she herself was going to face in the future, and that was a difficult prospect to consider.
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