Soft. Warm. Heavy. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had felt so good. She kept her eyes closed, even though she could already see a faint glimmer of light through her closed eyes that heralded a new day.
But she didn't want to get up yet, didn't want to open her eyes and would much rather stay in that comfortable darkness that allowed her to just feel and be. The soft pillow under her head, into which she now buried her nose even deeper. The warm blanket that surrounded her naked body like a protective cocoon that she didn't want to leave so quickly. The heavy limbs that she now carefully stretched under the blanket and that protested a little at the stretching.
She felt drained, in the best way possible. Every muscle in her body felt heavy and strained, as if she had enjoyed an extensive massage from which her body had yet to recover. She sighed comfortably, turned on her side with her eyes still closed and inhaled the scent that emanated from the wonderfully soft pillow beneath her.
The smell was not hers, and yet so familiar to her that she couldn't help but sigh contentedly again as she breathed in the unique composition of ink, parchment and mint that she associated with only one person in her universe, around whom her very own galaxy orbited.
Just the thought of long black hair falling like a wild waterfall over naked breasts that arched up and stretched out towards her with pleasure, with erect nipples that practically begged to be sucked between her lips, a long, elegant neck, a throat bared itself to her, inviting her to nibble on the most sensitive places, while a narrow mouth opened as if in a silent scream, making harsh, breathless sounds, and emerald green eyes struggled to stay open, but fluttered uncontrollably with each new wave of excitement, Hermione felt a warm wetness spreading between her legs and her abdomen contracting wonderfully.
The sigh that escaped her lips this time, as she slowly rotated her hips and pressed her legs together to feel a little more friction in the place she so suddenly needed it, was no longer deep and content, but instead several octaves higher and desperate, almost pleading.
But before she could respond to the call of her own pleasure and let her fingers trail down her body, she felt bare breasts pressed against her equally bare back, an arm snaking around her torso and a soft hand resting on her breast and squeezing gently, eliciting a deep moan from her.
Warm breath caressed the shell of her ear as Minerva's voice, still rough from sleep, whispered in her ear: "How am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you make such delicious noises so early in the morning?"
Hermione couldn't suppress the satisfied grin at these words and didn't want to as she opened her eyes and turned her head back until she could kiss the narrow, soft lips that had just caressed her neck and shoulders.
Despite the passion that was already rising again between the two women, their lips only met gently and slowly. As if last night's events had made them both feel safe enough to take their time with each other.
This was no longer just the living out of long-held fantasies and the satisfaction of years of suppressed needs that had broken free like an erupting volcano in the heat of battle, only to become cold black ash after the eruption, the embers gone, the heat cooled down.
That morning, in that moment as they lay in each other's arms, their fingers gliding lazily over soft skin and the first rays of sunlight of the day falling on the bed in which they had woken up together, Hermione felt like she had finally come home. Safety, security and deep contentment filled her and she hoped to convey all these feelings in the kisses she shared with the woman she had dreamed of for so long.
She turned onto her back, still wrapped in Minerva's arms, not breaking the kiss for a second.
"Then don't," she breathed on her lips, looking deeply into her eyes. A pleasant shiver ran through her entire body as the older woman's hands, feather-light, moved over her stomach and hip bones down between her legs, which opened invitingly for her.
With a jerk, Hermione tore the blankets from their bodies, earning a raised eyebrow and a smirk from Minerva, "Hot, love?"
"Burning," Hermione moaned as Minerva's fingers met wet pussy lips and slid slowly up and down, teasing both her entrance and her clit with the gentlest of touches without applying too much pressure.
Green eyes fixed on Hermione's face as if drinking in her every reaction, and the younger witch's breath caught at the intensity of that eye contact. She had never felt so seen.
Sure, the sex the night before had been phenomenal - greedy, hard and wonderfully kinky. But this was something completely different. This wasn't a fantasy, this wasn't hiding behind roles, magic, toys, or dirty words in positions that didn't allow eye contact. This was genuine, it was real, it was intimate – it was everything.
Hermione trembled with excitement and the intimacy of the position beneath Minerva, her mouth open in a silent scream as Minerva slowly entered her. The dampness allowed no resistance and Minerva straightened up, kneeled down and rested an arm next to Hermione's head to get a better angle.
But before she could speed up her rhythm, Hermione took advantage of the new position, grabbed Minerva's hips and entered her deeply with a single thrust. Minerva groaned and jerked her head up at the unexpected intrusion, but quickly recovered herself and turned her trembling gaze to the witch beneath her. A silent exchange between brown and green eyes was enough.
Lips found each other, tongues pushed out and entered each other's mouths, while both of their hands simultaneously began thrusting into the other woman at a speed that they had to separate their mouths from each other to get enough air.
Heavy breathing, throaty moans and wet smacking filled the room as they brought each other to the edge of their own personal blissful abyss. But Hermione was by no means willing to jump first. She was determined to get the other woman to orgasm first, even though Minerva was making it extremely difficult for her to even think clearly.
She focused all her concentration on her own fingers instead of the ones penetrating her so hard that she began to see stars. She gripped Minerva's hips even tighter, ignoring the muscles in her forearm that were beginning to spasm from the unfamiliar strain, and drove her fingers into the black-haired woman with a relentlessness that made Minerva gasp loudly.
Hermione watched in awe as the otherwise proud and controlled Scottish woman broke - little by little, thrust by thrust. Green eyes inevitably closed, wet walls closed tightly around Hermione's fingers and the venerable headmistress lost all her strength as an orgasm so violent ran through her that she screamed Hermione's name and could no longer keep her upper body upright.
She let her head sink weakly onto Hermione's shoulder, her hot breath beating frantically against Hermione's throat. Not a muscle moved, her fingers inside Hermione had paused. But to feel the weight of this powerful woman who had dominated her senses, her thoughts and her emotions for decades and to witness her giving herself completely to her was all Hermione needed, and so she came too around Minerva's motionless fingers still filling her.
Her body arched, her free hand clawing at Minerva's back and a deep moan escaped her throat. Breathing heavily, they both pulled their fingers out of each other's bodies and held each other in their arms until their heartbeats calmed and the ringing in their ears quieted.
Hermione ran her fingers gently and soothingly over the heated body on top of her. She moved up Minerva's spine, carefully brushed the long black hair that clung to the headmistress's sweaty neck and face out of her face, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and simply enjoyed holding the older woman in her arms, breathing in her scent and enjoying the silence between them, only disturbed by their now calm breathing and their hearts beating side by side.
Minerva's fingers slid feather-lightly up her arm, trailed along her collarbone, and finally came to rest on her breastbone. The touch was so gentle and delicate and so intimate at the same time that it took Hermione's breath away and she blinked desperately to hold back the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes.
The emotions seemed to completely overwhelm her in this moment of calm and she tried unsuccessfully to get her breathing under control, but only managed a shaky exhale that she sincerely hoped Minerva hadn't noticed.
But even without the abilities of an animagus, the older woman would not have missed the trembling and raised her head to look her younger lover in the eyes. Green eyes looked worriedly into warm brown ones.
"Hermione, love, what's wrong?"
The brown-haired witch shook her head. The tears she had just held back now flowed freely down her cheeks and her voice broke as she uttered, "Nothing."
Minerva tilted her head and raised her eyebrows slightly - a gesture that showed genuine interest in the emotional outburst of the young woman beneath her, but at the same time also revealed clear doubts about her answer that were so contrary to her tears.
Hermione almost expected that the black-haired woman would now slip into her role as Professor McGonagall, scold her for the obvious lie and demand the truth from her, with all her severity and authority, just as she had been used to and as she had experienced so often during her school days. Minerva McGonagall was a woman who didn't tolerate being lied to and who made you feel the consequences if you did.
Hermione was all the more surprised when the easily angered woman stroked her cheek with a gentle and loving gesture to wipe away the tears that flowed freely from her eyes. Her voice was just as gentle and loving when she stated: "It doesn't look like nothing, love."
Whether it were her words, the tone of her voice, the worried look, the pet name, or all of it, Hermione didn't know, but it just made her cry harder. She rolled onto her side and buried her face in Minerva's neck as violent sobs shook her entire body.
The older woman didn't hesitate for a second and pulled her former student into her arms, held her tightly, stroked her hair and whispered soothing words in her ear. As Hermione's sobs slowly subsided and her breathing calmed down, Minerva's voice reached her ear again as she continued to stroke Hermione's hair soothingly: "Tell me."
Although it was only these few words from the headmistress's mouth, Hermione heard exactly what she meant: Your thoughts are safe with me. Your words are safe with me. You are safe with me. If she couldn't confide in her, then who else?
Taking a deep breath to release the last tremors of her emotional outburst, she leaned back a little to look into emerald eyes that met her gaze, still full of concern, but also full of warmth, kindness and understanding.
"I don't know..." she began, raising her fingers to gently stroke Minerva's high cheekbones, as if she needed to make sure she was really there.
"…I can't really believe that this is actually real, that this is actually happening right now. I...I've imagined this for so long, dreamed about it for so long, that it has become an integral part of my fantasy world. It feels like a dream. A dream that is far too beautiful."
She swallowed as she felt a new wave of emotions threaten to wash over her. "I...I'm scared, Minerva. Scared that I'll wake up and it...it wasn't real after all. Scared that it will be over before it even really began. I...I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you. Not...not now that I know...know what it feels like. I...I couldn't stand that. I wouldn't survive that."
Desperately she looked up at Minerva, whose eyes shimmered suspiciously wet and Hermione's throat tightened uncomfortably as, in the brief moment of silence, a thousand reasons flew through her head why this relationship should never be allowed to happen. All the reasons that she had already listed back in her school days, whenever she tried to rationalize away her love for the older woman in order to finally get over her and be able to continue her life unhindered.
But she never got over her, if she was completely honest with herself. The last few hours were proof enough of that. She had given herself completely to Minerva McGonagall - her mind many years ago, when she was her student, her body several times last night and just a few minutes ago, and now her heart, which she placed with all its vulnerability in Minerva's hands, and fervently hoped that the black-haired woman wouldn't break it.
The silence between them dragged on as the usually eloquent Scottish woman seemed to search for the right words, which only made the nervous fluttering in Hermione's stomach that bordered on nausea even more intense.
To the brown-haired witch it felt like an eternity had passed before Minerva's thin lips finally opened and formed words that would decide everything, that would mean either her beginning or her end: "To me it seems like it was only yesterday that you entered this school as a little girl and took in everything with your big eyes and your quick mind."
Whatever it was that Hermione had expected, this definitely wasn't it. But before she could think any further about what Minerva was getting at with this and whether that was a good or bad sign, Minerva continued: "You were so eager to learn and to get better, your knowledge and skills seemd to have no boundaries over the years and I was so proud to be your teacher and to have you in my house."
Hermione's chest inevitably swelled at the praise of the woman who was known for having extremely high expectations of her students and whose praise had to be earned hard, which also meant that words of praise from Minerva McGonagall's mouth outweighed her from everyone else.
"But you have already shown in your first years of school that you are not only extremely intelligent and talented, but also courageous, brave and determined and therefore more than worthy of the Gryffindor house - both to my joy and to my chagrin. "
Hermione grimaced as she remembered all the dangers she had faced throughout her school years with her two best friends: trolls, three-headed dogs, devil snares, basilisks, werewolves, dragons, centaurs, spiders, Death Eaters, and the most feared wizard of their time himself, Voldemort.
"I was always torn between my relief that you had found such good friends in Harry and Ron and that you were no longer just hiding in the world of books, and my fear that you wouldn't return alive from one of your adventures."
Feelings of guilt spread through Hermione at these words and at the same time she couldn't suppress a slight feeling of joy at the thought that Minerva was afraid for her, worried about her and wanted her to be safe. A faint hope peeked around the corner in the far corner of her mind, but Hermione didn't dare give it too much space, because she still didn't know where Minerva was going with her memories of the young Hermione Granger.
"But all my fears were nothing compared to your last year, when you didn't come back to me at Hogwarts." The pain that was so clear on Minerva's face at these memories hit Hermione right in the heart, but the only thing to which she suddenly clung to with all her senses was Minerva's last sentence: ...when you didn't come back to me at Hogwarts…didn't come back to me...to me...to me...to me.
"The uncertainty every day. Not knowing where you were, whether you were okay, whether you were even still alive." The headmistress bit her lower lip in a very uncharacteristic gesture, as if she needed to bring herself back to the here and now, to make sure that she was no longer in that time and that Hermione was here, safe and well, in her arms.
"At the same time, I tried to convince myself that you were safer outside than at Hogwarts, where you would have been such easy prey for Voldemort's men as Harry Potter's best friend. I...", Minerva's voice trembled slightly, "I felt an unbelievably big weight lifted from my heart when I saw you again at the final battle. Much too thin, completely dirty and scratched, but alive ..." she swallowed, "and with me again."
"You were so beautiful and so grown up. Seeing you fight in the final battle took my breath away. Gryffindor's warrior princess. My warrior princess. I couldn't wait to see what else you would accomplish in your life since you had accomplished so much at such a young age."
The infinite joy that had spread like warm rays of sunshine throughout Hermione's chest and made her feel like she was flying slowly withdrew and were darkened by a sudden shadow, for she suspected what was to come. She could feel the words in the air between them, like a guillotine threatening to come crashing down on her at any moment, even before Minerva spoke them.
She saw the disappointment on the honorable headmistress's face, even though she tried to hide it, and she understood it all too well, as it matched her own disappointment and shame at what she had done with her life - or rather what she hadn't done.
Hermione involuntarily sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. She could no longer look Minerva in the eyes. She couldn't bear to have the loss of her then so promising future, which she herself felt so clearly and which had been like a stab in her heart when she had returned to Hogwarts, reflected in the green eyes of the woman she loved.
She also didn't want to hear the disappointment in Minerva's voice, so she forestalled her without being able to banish the bitterness from her own voice: "And then I disappointed you and the entire wizarding world beyond measure when I fell so far short of my potential and didn't do anything with my life. The brains of the golden trio, the most brilliant witch of her time, solving all the problems that come her way and breaking all academic records. The next Minister of Magic, they said. And what did she do with her life? Nothing. There she goes, marries Ronald Weasley and becomes a housewife and mother. How far she has fallen."
Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and anger at herself. "And what's in it for her now?" She felt tears welling up in her eyes again as a warm hand gently placed itself on her lower back, rubbing comforting circles there.
"She is more dissatisfied and unhappy than she ever thought possible." Hot tears now rolled down her cheeks as she finally admitted out loud to Minerva, but more importantly to herself, what she had been feeling all these years, and all the anger she had just felt evaporated in an instant. All that remained was an endless sadness for a life she never had.