Entering Minerva McGonagall's private chambers felt to Hermione like she was crossing an invisible boundary that she had previously been completely unaware of. Their intimate moments in the headmistress's office just a few minutes ago had also been extremely transgressive, but in a completely physical, raw and hormone-controlled way.
Her lower urges had overcome her like a storm of lust and desire, without giving her the opportunity to think concretely about her actions, let alone act differently. She had never felt so at the mercy of her instincts as in these moments of physical weakness.
And God, had it felt good to just let go and give herself completely to Minerva, to let her take the lead and hand her body into the talented hands she had dreamed of for so long.
All of her fantasies had always taken place in places she knew: her own room that she had lived in at Hogwarts, the Transfiguration classroom, the prefects' bathroom, and of course the office of the formidable woman herself.
In her mind she had never entered the bedroom of the woman she had adored - and still adored - so much. This place was pure and untouched by all the dirty fantasies she had developed regarding the black-haired woman. Unexplored territory, just like its owner herself, who until now had absolute control over what happened between them and who Hermione still longed to finally be able to touch.
Here, in the place that was entirely Minerva. A room in which she was neither Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and headmistress of the most prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, nor the war hero Minerva McGonagall, holder of the Order of Merlin First Class and one of the pillars of her wizarding community, but just a woman with longings, wishes and dreams.
Experiencing these dark-haired Scotswoman's innermost thoughts was an intimacy that Hermione desired even more than the physical one, even though just the thumb that continually stroked the back of her hand as Minerva led her into her bedroom made her heart flutter.
At that moment, Hermione was completely overwhelmed by the stimuli that bombarded her, even if the room she was in was anything but special. But it was the space in which Minerva was completely herself, open and vulnerable, unobserved by the outside world, that stigmatized her as a venerable role model.
In this room she took off her dresses and robes that symbolically marked her as Headmistress of Hogwarts, here she freed her long black hair from her characteristic strict bun and took off the glasses that often concealed her emotions in emerald green eyes behind a haze of professionalism.
Hermione wanted nothing more than to see everything, everything that was behind the woman who was so much in the public eye. Did she actually know the woman who was now standing next to her, patiently waiting until Hermione had soaked up everything in her bedroom? Hermione didn't know.
But she knew with every fiber of her being that she wanted to get to know this woman, the woman behind the professional façade, whose big heart she had glimpsed every now and then in the past.
With this certainty she turned to Minerva, who was still watching her quietly and penetratingly with her green eyes and who seemed to recognize in the younger witch's hazel eyes that she had come to some kind of decision.
She raised an eyebrow questioningly, which immediately took Hermione back to her Transfiguration class, in which the older witch had used this exact silent gesture so often to challenge, discipline, or encourage her students to think, depending on the situation.
Hermione let out an involuntary laugh at the familiar display of emotion on the older woman's face, her lips curling into a warm smile as she seemed to absorb the cheerfulness that radiated from Hermione.
"Care to share with me what you find so amusing, dear?"
"You," Hermione laughed.
"Me? You'll have to explain that to me, my dear, because I've been called many things in the past, but amusing certainly wasn't one of them." She curled her lips and raised an eyebrow again, which only made Hermione laugh even more.
"Here," the younger woman raised her hand and slowly ran her index and middle fingers over Minerva's eyebrow, which immediately lowered at the touch as if it had a calming effect on her, "there it is again, your eyebrow. I don't know whether you do it consciously or unconsciously, but I don't know anyone who can communicate as much as you can with the raise of just one eyebrow. There is no one else who can silence an entire room with such a simple gesture. So much power in such a delicate part of the body."
Hermione's voice had grown quieter with each word, as if she were speaking more to herself than to the woman in front of her, lost in her thoughts, completely unaware of what her barely noticeable touch was causing in the headmistress, who didn't move a muscle as if she would be afraid of scaring the younger woman away by moving too quickly.
Hermione had reached the end of the eyebrow and let her fingers glide further, as if she wanted to trace every contour of Minerva's face into her memory with her fingers, imprinting it there forever.
"Those high cheekbones that give you an almost aristocratic look. If the list of the Sacred Twenty-Eight wasn't publicly available, no one would believe that someone like you wasn't on that list. That someone like you, who is so above things, comes from such a humble background. So untouchable…"
An almost awestruck yet sad tone had crept into Hermione's voice at the last word as she became aware of the gap that lay between them and how out of her league the woman in front of her was.
Her fingers slid down to Minerva's lips, which parted ever so slightly at the touch, releasing a shaky breath. "...and yet so close...so soft...so warm."
A soft sigh escaped the headmistress and Hermione's eyes shot up and met emerald green ones, but they seemed almost black, Minerva's pupils had become so large, whether from her words or her touch or both, Hermione couldn't tell.
Minerva's fiery gaze snapped Hermione out of her trance and she realized what she had just done, how much she had just invaded the privacy of the woman who was known for her reclusiveness.
But before she could withdraw her hand, slender fingers wrapped around the back of her hand and Hermione's breath hitched as Minerva nestled her cheek in her open hand like a cat begging to be petted.
"Don't." Minerva's eyes were almost pleading. "I'm not untouchable...Hermione...please."
Hermione realized with shock that the woman in front of her was anything but composed, stoic and above all things. That might be the mask she put on for the outside world, the face she presented to the world that had always relied on her so much and for which she had willingly taken responsibility.
For all the students who learned magic at her school, for the staff who looked up to her as a leader, and for all the magical people in Britain and beyond who knew that as long as Minerva McGonagall existed, there would always be someone there, who protected them and the world they lived in. So much responsibility on the shoulders of a single person, a single human being, a single woman.
Hermione's heart broke as she realized how lonely the woman in front of her had to be, hiding her true self from most of the world, and how much effort it must take for her to live up to the world's demands.
She wanted nothing more than to uncover all of this woman's layers, little by little, so that she could envelop and protect her innermost being. To be the pillar and anchor for the woman who was the support of the magical world.
She placed her other hand on Minerva's free cheek, cupping her face as gently as a warm cocoon, and pulled the slightly taller woman down until their lips touched in a gentle kiss. As light as a feather, Hermione glided her lips over the older woman's and traced every fine line with the tip of her tongue, as if she wanted to memorize her lips forever with just that.
She took her time, taking Minerva's bottom lip between hers and sucking gently, her thumbs gently stroking Minerva's cheeks in a silent plea for her to trust her and relax.
Hermione's tongue ventured forward again and gently pushed against Minerva's lips, who opened her mouth without objection and allowed her entry. Warm and wet, their tongues met and Hermione's hands only tightened their grip on the older woman to pull her even closer.
A soft moan escaped both of them as their tongues became more and more greedy, their dance became faster and the wet smacking that was the only sound filling the room became louder and louder. Hermione felt intoxicated by just one intense kiss, which clouded her senses like none of the kisses she had exchanged with the woman before and caused her abdomen to contract in such a delicious way.
She needed more, more of Minerva, more of the woman she wanted to see lose control through her touch and caress. She pulled away from her mouth and traced her lips along her jaw, sliding her hands to Minerva's shoulders to hold her in place as she sucked on her neck, intent on leaving a mark.
Everyone should see that Minerva was not available to anyone, that she was hers, and that it was her who gave her such pleasure that even the supreme headmistress of Hogwarts became weak and willingly gave herself to her.
She could feel Minerva's pulse throbbing excitedly under her lips at her carotid artery, as well as her quickened breathing, bursting excitedly and raggedly from between her lips.
But she was still so incredibly composed, controlled and calm. Hermione wanted to hear her scream, wanted hear her scream her name in a state of extreme ecstasy and complete uncontrollability.
She would break her just as Minerva had broken her resistance, little by little, until she was nothing but physical desires and unbridled lust. And Hermione Granger wasn't known for ever failing to achieve a goal she set for herself.
An old, familiar feeling settled in the younger witch's chest, one that she hadn't felt in a very, very long time and yet was as familiar as an old friend whom she embraced again after years of separation without their relationship having changed at all.
Eagerness, ambition, confidence. Hermione knew who she was, what she wanted and that she would achieve it. With newfound energy and determination, she let go of Minerva's neck, straightened up and looked deeply into the older woman's green eyes, which suddenly seemed so vulnerable and open that Hermione could detect every little emotional detail in them.
There was no longer any controlled composure, no professionalism and no facade. Hermione shuddered as she realized how willing Minerva was to open up to her, not just on a physical level, but more so on an emotional level, and her heart swelled with love for this woman who she had already loved when she hadn't known how to distinguish love from lust.
Her hands didn't hesitate for a second now as she ran her fingers nimbly over the buttons of the heavy black cloak that Minerva wore, determined to free her from all the material that prevented her from touching her body.
Heavy fabric fell to the floor as Hermione finally undid all the buttons of the robe and it off Minerva's shoulders, only to find a black floor-length dress underneath. She let out a frustrated growl as she moved on to the next layer, desperately hoping that it would be the last before she could finally touch the soft skin that she had dreamed of since the Yule Ball so many decades ago.
She deliberately ignored Minerva's slight chuckle at her obvious impatience and concentrated entirely on the new row of buttons in front of her that seemed to be mocking her.
"Patience is a virtue, my dear," Minerva smiled.
Hermione gave her a dirty look, which only made the headmistress laugh even more.
"I've been waiting for this for decades, so don't tell me about patience, and the next time you're wearing countless layers of cumbersome clothing again…," Hermione hissed through gritted teeth as she undid the final buttons and the dress revealed the first hint of milky white skin, making the younger witch pause before she placed her hands under Minerva's dress on her now almost bare shoulders and returned her amused gaze with seriousness, "…I will rip your clothes off with a single wave of my wand, regardless of the consequences, understood?"
Without waiting for an answer, Hermione took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what was to come, and let it out shakily as she gave Minerva's dress a gentle push and it fell from her delicate shoulders.
Together with the black cloak, it formed a black circle around her that only made her pale skin glow even more and Hermione greedily drank in every inch of skin that was exposed before her eyes as if it were the first and the last time she would see Minerva like that.
Almost awestruck, she let her eyes wander over Minerva's body, which was now covered only by dark green underwear, the sight of which made Hermione feel moist heat gathering between her legs, and she wondered if the same moisture was also present between Minerva's legs.
Judging by the heavy breathing that caused Minerva's plump breasts to rise and fall excitedly, she was just as aroused as Hermione, who couldn't take her eyes off them.
Her fingers were itching to wrap around them and search for the nipples that were hidden beneath the green fabric, just waiting to become hard and stiff at her touch.
But she would have to be patient for a moment, first she wanted to free Minerva from the last piece of material that separated her from her, before she would stand in front of her completely naked, exposed and unprotected. Hermione trembled as she spoke. "You are beautiful, Minerva, just beautiful."
The black-haired woman only raised a doubtful eyebrow at this praise, but said nothing in response.
"Stay like that," Hermione whispered in her ear as she walked around the tall Scottish woman and stopped behind her. Hermione could almost feel Minerva's tension growing. She heard her breathing quicken again and saw her shoulders rise and fall with each breath she took.
She knew, without being able to explain why, that Minerva had to use all her self-control not to look behind herself. The woman in front of her was famous for always being in complete control of everything around her. Well, in this situation, not knowing what was going to happen must be driving Minerva crazy.
Hermione smiled at the thought that now she was in charge, and the fact that it was the resolute Scottish woman who was completely at her mercy filled Hermione with an unusual feeling of excitement.
She slid her hands over Minerva's shoulders, pushed down her bra straps, and in a single movement unzipped the now annoying item of clothing and let it fall carelessly to the floor next to the other items of clothing.
It took all her willpower not to press herself directly against Minerva's bare back and grab her breasts with her hands, kneading and massaging them until Minerva moaned and melted in her arms.
She rested her fingertips on Minerva's shoulder blades and felt the older woman flinch briefly under the gentle touch of her fingers before a pleasant shiver ran through her as Hermione slowly slid her fingers down her entire back until the hem of her panties hindered her progress.
Just as gently, Hermione traced the waistband of the green underwear, forward over Minerva's hipbone, back to her lower back and forward again.
Minerva's breathing was ragged now and she felt Minerva trying to lean back, signaling to her that she needed more than just these gentle, barely perceptible touches.
Hermione quickly wrapped her arms around Minerva's shoulders again to stop her from moving backwards.
She leaned forward a little, brushed her lips gently over her shoulder, and felt a few small hairs that had escaped from Minerva's tight bun tickling her cheek as she whispered in her ear, "Not yet...I..."
She let out a shaky breath as she tried to put into words what she was feeling right now, now that the woman she had wanted for so long was standing almost completely naked before her, trembling under her touch, her skin so much softer beneath her hands than she could have ever imagined.
"Let me enjoy this, I've been waiting for this for so long. God Minerva…I want you so badly."
She felt the older woman suck in a sharp breath at the words and the hot breath on her ear.
Encouraged by this reaction and reassured by the fact that Minerva could not see her with her piercing eyes while her back was to her, Hermione dared to be even more frank: "I don't want it to be over too quickly. I want to delay this as long as possible. I don't want it to be over yet. I...I...I'm scared...This feels so unreal, it's been in my head for so long and now it's suddenly happening. I...I want you so much, but I also don't want to lose you, not after...after..."
Her voice cracked at the emotions that so suddenly overwhelmed her and she had to hold back the tears that were crowding the corners of her eyes and threatening to fall. She couldn't believe she was getting emotional right now when everything she wanted was right there in front of her, within her reach.
How could the mood have changed from sensual to emotional so quickly? Before she could react, Minerva had taken that moment to turn to her, and the piercing green eyes whose knowing gaze Hermione had so feared held only compassion and understanding for her.
She already felt a warm hand on her cheek, gently catching the one tear that had now escaped from the corner of Hermione's eye. She smiled at the loving gesture that warmed her heart and filled her with an inner calm that had been miles away just a second ago.
She looked up in admiration at the woman who managed to stand here in front of her almost completely naked, while Hermione was still fully dressed and the older woman was still the one who exuded a confidence and security that Hermione was attracted to and envied at the same time in this moment when she felt so vulnerable despite all the clothes she still wore.
She suddenly realized that in all these years it had never been the stylish and imposing cloaks and robes that had defined Minerva McGonagall's confident presence. They were merely decorative accessories for a woman who radiated power and strength with every fiber of her body.
She didn't need the whole appearance, she was everything she stood for, and Hermione couldn't ignore the feeling that she wasn't at all up to it, let alone worthy of it.
She blinked as tears welled up in her eyes again as she tried to take in every inch of Minerva's features, afraid that this would be the last time she would be allowed to be this close to the woman.
"You..." Her voice shook as she tried to put her feelings into words. "You are so much more."
Minerva's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at Hermione's words.
"You deserve so much more. Someone who…" Hermione swallowed. "…you have so much power over me and I have absolutely none over you."
Never had the imbalance between herself and the woman in front of her seemed more obvious to Hermione than in this moment, which was supposed to be comfortable and intimate. Which should go far beyond her schoolgirl fantasies and yet be much less.
Wasn't that what Minerva had demanded of her, wanted from her? Not sex between a student and her teacher, but a union between two women on equal terms? But they weren't on equal terms, Hermione had to bitterly admit to herself. They would never be.