Minerva's voice cut through her dark thoughts, "Look at me, love."
Sobbing, Hermione shook her head and pulled her bent legs even tighter against her chest.
"Look at me," Minerva's voice demanded again, with much more force.
"I can't," Hermione sobbed, shaking her head vehemently again. "I can't bare to see it. I don't want to see the disappointment in your eyes. What has become of me."
Delicate fingers cupped her chin and turned her head, but she stared stubbornly downward, refusing to meet the older woman's eyes.
"Hermione," her tone tolerated no further contradiction, "look at me!"
Reluctantly, Hermione looked up and was startled to see the anger boiling in Minerva's eyes. "Listen to me carefully." Her eyes flashed dangerously and Hermione couldn't help but think that she looked absolutely beautiful in this moment.
"Don't think for a second that I've ever been disappointed in you and your decisions." Hermione's mouth dropped open.
"You chose a family life when the whole world expected you to have a groundbreaking career. You chose family happiness over the loneliness of a full-time job, even though the pressure of expectations was so high. Don't you see how brave that was? You have raised two such adorable children that you can be extremely proud of. This is your work. Your life. That's what you achieved."
The black-haired woman stopped her preaching and seemed to gather all her courage for the next words. "I admit, I was…" she swallowed, but didn't avoid Hermione's gaze, who was listening intently, "…hurt when you tied yourself so quickly without me ever having the chance to present myself to you as a possible option for you. And then to Ronald Weasley, of all people."
She snorted and Hermione had to smile. "But what I wanted more than being with you was your happiness, love. Even if it meant not having it with me."
Hermione's heart broke as thin lips curled into a sad smile and she realized how much she had hurt Minerva so many years ago without even knowing it. She never wanted to see that sad look on Minerva's face again, let alone be responsible for it.
The need to take the older woman in her arms and never let her go again, to avert all harm from her and just make her happy, was suddenly so overwhelming that Hermione couldn't breathe.
Without thinking about it, she cupped Minerva's cheeks in her hands and looked deep into her eyes as she said, "I am so sorry, Minerva. I am so sorry. I…I love you. I have always loved you."
Without waiting for Minerva's answer, she closed the final distance between them and pressed her lips to Minerva's, again and again and again. And with every kiss she repeated the words she had just spoken in her head like a mantra: I love you, I love you, I love you, as if the headmistress could hear them in every kiss, feel them in every kiss and simply know in every kiss that Hermione was serious about it.
Only the lack of oxygen forced the younger witch to break their kisses. She sucked in the air greedily and leaned her forehead against Minerva's, who was breathing just as heavily as she was.
"I love you, Minerva McGonagall," she gasped, "I...I want to be with you, I want to be with you and never let you go again."
Minerva's emerald eyes shone brighter than Hermione had ever seen them and her voice trembled with all the emotions that were so obviously flowing through her: "I have always loved you, Hermione, and I always will."
Lips met again, arms wrapped around each other, hands gripped hair to bring their heads even closer together and seal the love they had just confessed to each other.
A comfortable sigh escaped Hermione's lips as they pulled away from each other, running their fingers over each other's skin and just content to look into each other's eyes and read in them the same love they felt in their hearts.
Suddenly the rumbling of a stomach cut through the silence between them and the headmistress threw her head back, laughing. Hermione felt her cheeks flush.
"Hungry, love?" the headmistress asked, still grinning, and Hermione had to laugh herself when she saw the amused sparkle in green eyes that was simply contagious.
She playfully nudged the older woman on the side: "I guess that's no surprise. I didn't have dinner yesterday because a certain headmistress wanted me to drop everything for her. Not to mention the tiring evening and morning."
"Oh, so tiring it was?" Minerva raised her eyebrows mockingly.
"Yes," Hermione confirmed, although it was difficult for her not to beam from ear to ear at the memory of the efforts of last night and this morning.
Minerva pulled her even closer to her: "Good tiring or bad tiring?"
"Wonderfully tiring," the brown-haired witch whispered and gave the older woman a short but meaningful kiss before she went back to beaming at her. Why couldn't it have been this way from the start? Suddenly the younger woman's guilty conscience began to gnaw at her.
"Minerva..."
"Hm?"
"I'm sorry for barging in here and for the way I talked to you yesterday. I was so incredibly angry - "
The headmistress shook her head vehemently, her fingers still stroking Hermione's back: "I shouldn't have called you in at such short notice and without mentioning the reason. I understand why you were angry."
"But not really at you, well, not only. I was mostly angry at myself, at Ron, at my life, at everything. It was easier to take it out on you than to face the fact that I'm just not happy."
"Do you want to be it?"
"What? Happy?"
Minerva nodded.
Hermione was confused by the question, but replied, "Of course. Who doesn't want to be?"
"And what do you need in order to accomplish that?"
When Hermione didn't answer, Minerva added, "What do you want?"
The question surprised Hermione. Yes, what did she actually want? Her gaze wandered without focus over the rumpled bed and the blankets that partially covered their bodies. Minerva's voice reached her ears, patient but clear in what she wanted from her: "Imagine it. Imagine yourself happy. Who are you? What are you doing? Who are the people in your life?"
Hermione knew that particular tone. She was immediately reminded of her school days. Professor Minerva McGonagall had never been a teacher who handed answers to her students on a silver platter. Oh no, her aim was always to support her protégés, to push them to their magical and intellectual limits, to expand their minds and to encourage them to think for themselves. But maneuvering herself into a utopian fantasy world and imagining a life that she didn't have...Hermine felt idiotic.
"Minerva-"
The headmistress stopped Hermione's doubts before she could voice them: "I'm serious. Come on. Use your brilliant mind and imagine it. Every little detail. You can live your dream life. How does it look? Tell me. Don't think about where you are now, think about where you could be if you wanted to."
Even though the words were urgent, Hermione felt the older woman's unbridled patience as she had finished speaking, and she knew that she was now giving her the time to feel and think within herself without pressure, to seek a vision and to find answers. And finding answers had always been something Hermione had excelled at.
She opened her mind and, deep within herself, she felt herself disappearing from the here and now and sending her thoughts on a journey. Invisible brushstrokes began to paint a new picture, at first blurry and incomplete, until it became sharper and clearer.
As if in a trance, Hermione began to describe the picture of her life as she had always wanted it: "I'm sitting in the Great Hall. It's my graduation ceremony. I graduated at the top of my class. Not because I wanted to be better than anyone else. No, I just wanted to do my best to become the best I can be. Because I love doing my best, I love learning and growing. And there is still so much that I don't know yet, but I really want to know and learn. All my friends are there and are happy with me. Ron too, but only as a friend, one of my best friends, nothing more, nothing less. A lot of important poeple from the ministry are there and make me job offers. They are tempting offers and they all appeal to me. But I'm not done learning yet, I don't want to be done with it yet. I want to get my Masters in Charms and Arithmancy first and then take a job at the Ministry where I feel like I can really make a difference in the world."
Blinking, she emerged from this fantasy, her gaze refocused and turned to the black-haired witch next to her, who smiled contentedly: "There you have your answer."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Minerva, I'm no longer a student."
"Thank God, otherwise I definitely wouldn't have you here in bed with me."
The younger witch gave her an annoyed look: "You know what I mean. I can't make up for all the thime I've lost."
"Says who?"
"Minerva-"
"You are the most talented, brilliant and disciplined witch I have met in my entire life - which is quite an impressive number of years, if I dare say so, and which makes me extremely qualified to be able to give this assessment objectively adequate. Your skills were already at NEWT level by the time you took your OWLs. You could walk into the Ministry right now and take your NEWTs and you would pass with flying colors."
"Do you really mean that?"
Minerva nodded: "Yes, I really mean that. And in the meantime, I will consult Filius and Septima about whether their workload allows them to take you as an apprentice and, if not, which candidates they can recommend."
Hermione was just able to grab the older woman's wrist as she started to get up and asked in a panic, "What? Now?"
With a smile, Minerva explained: "Hermione, I am not a woman for half-measures. As you should know best."
Hermione was completely stunned, but regained her senses when Minerva made another attempt to stand up, which she stopped again: "Wait."
The black-haired woman turned to her and emphasized urgently and a little impatiently: "Hermione, I want you to be happy."
Hermione stroked her thumb soothingly over the wrist she was still holding: "I know and that's terribly sweet. But do you know what would really make me happy right now?"
"What?"
"Food! I'm starving, I have to go to the bathroom so badly and I can't think straight like this! Besides, I'd like to discuss all this with you calmly, make a plan and then you're welcome to go into full Minerva-McGonagall-Headmistress-of-Hogwarts-getting-things-done-mode, but first I need food, woman!"
Laughing, Minerva leaned forward, kissed Hermione, and covered their naked bodies with the blanket before speaking into the empty room, "Weesy."
A house elf appeared at the end of the bed and bowed to the headmistress: "What can Weesy do for you, venerable headmistress?"
"Be a dear and bring us breakfast for two, please."
"You're welcome, headmistress. Weesy will be right back," the elf chirped and disappeared straight away.
Minerva turned back to Hermione and nodded her head towards the door behind her: "There is the bathroom. Breakfast in bed or –"
"Breakfast in bed!" Hermione giggled blissfully as she jumped up and hurried to the designated door. Before she went through the door, she turned around again and looked meaningfully down her naked body: "Can I perhaps borrow something from you to wear?"
She blushed at the lascivious look Minerva gave her as she let her green eyes wander appreciatively over the younger woman's naked body, "We'll have breakfast in bed, love, so the need for clothing completely escapes me. "
At Hermione's raised eyebrows, she became more specific: "Why wear something if I have to take it off again right after? That's just a waste of time."
Trying to ignore the heat that coursed through her body at those words coupled with the intense gaze of those piercing green eyes, Hermione countered: "And if Weesy comes back with our breakfast at the exact moment I come out of the bathroom naked?"
Minerva's lips curled in frustration at this argument, which she could not counter. "Okay," she sighed and reached for her wand on the bedside table and the next moment Hermione felt soft silk on her skin.
Looking down, she was wearing a light pink nightgown with spaghetti straps and a neckline that left little to the imagination. It barely reached the middle of her thighs. Finished with her inspection, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
"A little less fabric wasn't possible?" she asked ironically.
However, the headmistress was not so easily intimidated: "That's all you get, love. This or nothing, your decision." A victorious grin spread across her lips and Hermione threw her arms up in frustration, but couldn't suppress a head-shaking laugh as she turned around and disappeared into the bathroom.
How did she come up with the idea that the Minerva McGonagall would leave her the field without a fight? The woman gave as good as she took, and Hermione didn't know anyone more stubborn.
As she emerged from the bathroom a short time later, she paused in the doorway and leaned against it. A deep warmth and satisfaction spread through her at the sight before her, and in this moment she wanted nothing more than to be able to see this image before her every day for the rest of her life.
The tall Scottish woman leaned with her back against the headboard of her bed. Her long black hair fell over one of her slender bare shoulders and, to Hermione's chagrin, she had pulled the covers up to her chest. A book leaned against her retracted thighs and her green eyes darted quickly over the lines in front of her behind her reading glasses, completely absorbed in its contents.
A smile spread across Hermione's face. She loved that Minerva loved reading as much as she did. It was no surprise to her that the older woman filled her short absence with reading. She would have done the same thing herself.
She could already see it in her mind: long evenings next to each other in front of the fireplace, both of them immersed in a book, tea and cookies, the crackling of the fire and the occasional turning of a page the only sounds in the room, while they simply enjoyed being together in silence .
"Do you see anything you like?" Minerva interrupted her thoughts without looking up from what she was reading.
"Maybe," Hermione smiled, went to the bed, fell onto it next to her and leaned on the older woman's shoulder.
"What are you rea- " The rest of her question caught in Hermione's throat as she recognized her own writing. Panicked she straightened up and tried to reach for the notebook in Minerva's hands. However, she couldn't match the Animagus's cat reflexes and before she could even touch it, Minerva had reached out with her long arm, holding it out of her reach.
"Why the hell are you reading this?" Hermione exclaimed, looking aghast between the notebook and Minerva, who stayed absolutely calm, took off her reading glasses and countered with a question herself: "The question of why you don't want me to read it seems much more important to me." Her piercing gaze fixed Hermione, as if she wanted to get into her head and read her darkest thoughts.
Hermione ran her hands restlessly through her brown mane and struggled for words: "Minerva, these are the fantasies of a teenager, that was years ago and -"
"Fantasies that you were only too happy to live out yesterday, if I remember correctly, love. So don't tell me they're out of date. That's not why you don't want me to read them."
"Jeez, Minerva, why do you think I wouldn't want that?! These thoughts, these fantasies are private and intimate. I didn't write it down for the whole world to read! They were for me and for me alone," her voice had become quieter and she looked almost lovingly at the notebook in Minerva's hands, "no one should ever see that, least of all you."
When she looked at Minerva as she spoke the last words, she could just see the pain flickering in her emerald eyes, but the headmistress regained control of her features so quickly that Hermione wasn't sure if she had imagined it.
However, the barely perceptible tremor in Minerva's voice as she spoke betrayed the emotions raging within her: "Do you regret it?"
Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what she had just said without thinking and how it must have made the woman in the bed next to her feel. And instinctively she knew what Minerva was actually asking: Do you regret that I read your fantasies? Do you regret living out those fantasies with me yesterday? Do you regret sleeping with me? Do you regret…us?
Cold terror gripped Hermione's heart like an iron fist as she realized how important Minerva's question and even more so her own answer to it was. It wasn't just about the notebook anymore. It was about their entire relationship, for which Hermione suddenly had full responsibility and which, with just one wrong answer, she could tear from its roots like a young plant that had not yet buried itself firmly enough in the ground to withstand such an attack. It would be ripped out with the slightest tug and would die before it had a chance to grow properly.
Tears now glittered in Minerva's eyes as she could no longer stand Hermione's silence and spoke up again. Her voice was now noticeably shaking, barely above a whisper: "Are you ashamed of this?"
Again, Hermione heard the real question behind it, heard the uncertainty and pain that the older woman tried so desperately to hide: Are you ashamed of your fantasies? Are you ashamed…of me?
The realization hit Hermione like a train barreling toward her at full speed, and her heart broke at the thought of hurting the woman she had dreamed of all her life so badly and then losing her so quickly after she just had had her, because of her own stupid insecurities. She wouldn't allow that - ever. Fiery determination shot through Hermione as her inner lioness took over, ready to fight for the woman who owned her heart.
She could see the surprise in Minerva's eyes as Hermione lifted her leg and straddled her, successfully trapping her. With both hands she cupped the older woman's face, who was looking up at her with large, teary eyes, and held it so that Minerva couldn't avoid her gaze, but at the same time she stroked her cheeks soothingly with her thumbs.
"Yes, I'm ashamed of it." Minerva's last bit of composure collapsed at these words and the pain that now spread unhindered on her face stabbed like a thousand small needles into Hermione's heart, as if it were her own.
Hermione's nightgown: products/pure-silk-spaghetti-strap-lace-trimmed-nightgown-p1474?variant=41237629370425