I would recommend listenig to the song while reading the dance, but you certainly don't have to.

Despacito (Bachata Remix): watch?v=hoNi9NeS5OE

Unlike her younger sister, Bellatrix didn't leave Hermione alone on the dance floor, which calmed the younger witch immensely. She didn't want to be completely alone again, as if on display, at the mercy of everyone's gazes around her - and especially not the gazes of two very specific women which were almost certainly resting on her at that very moment, examining her new outfit and thinking about what the two women, who now took up positions in the middle of the dance floor in their black suits, had been doing for so long in the bathroom.

Just the thought of it made Hermione's cheeks heat up and she tried to concentrate entirely on Bellatrix. The black-haired witch pulled her so tightly against her that Hermione let out a gasp of surprise when Bellatrix pressed not only their breasts but also their hips together. Their faces were so close that Hermione feared for a moment that Bellatrix was going to kiss her - here, in the middle of the dance floor, in front of everyone - especially when she raised her hands to cup Hermione's cheeks - and waited.

Suddenly, soft Caribbean drum sounds came from the speakers and Hermione felt the magic of the shoes flooding through her body and how it moved intuitively as if by itself. She instinctively wrapped her hands around Bellatrix's waist and held on as Bellatrix, with her hands still on her cheeks, gently turned her head back and brought it back to her face.

Her breath fell hotly on Hermione's mouth as a male voice began to sing in Spanish, their two hips pressed tightly together began to gyrate in time and Bellatrix whispered, "I've been watching you for a while. I have to dance with you today. I saw that your gaze was already calling to me. Show me the path I should take."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat when she realized that Bellatrix was translating the lyrics to her and she didn't know what made her more nervous in that moment: their bodies nestled tightly together, their hips circling in time with the song and almost rubbing against each other as if they were in the middle of lovemaking, or the suggestive words Bellatrix whispered in her ear after each verse of the song: "You are the magnet and I am the metal. I get closer and make a plan. Just thinking about it makes the pulse quicken. Yes, I like you more than normal. All my senses demand more. But in no hurry – slowly."

Bellatrix's hands slowly slid down her arms, grasping Hermione's hands and intertwining them together. Then she jerked Hermione away, let go of one of her hands and led her into a twist and a second one, which she didn't complete, but instead pulled Hermione tightly back to her body in the moment when her back was turned to her. She wrapped an arm around Hermione from behind and placed her hand directly under Hermione's breasts, causing the younger woman to suck in a sharp breath as she automatically stretched her own arms up, bent them back and dug her hands in the soft curls of the older woman.

Bellatrix held her so tightly against her body that Hermione could feel the older woman's breasts against her back and had to suppress a moan. Their hips moved in unison again, Hermione's bottom rubbing against Bellatrix's crotch, and the younger woman tried not to think about how intimate this dance was and that they were doing it in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

But before she could think about it any further, she felt Bellatrix's hot breath on her neck and shivered at the next words she whispered in her ear: "I want to breathe in your neck slowly. Let me say things in your ear so you remember when you're not with me with me. Slowly. I want to undress you slowly with kisses, trace the walls of your labyrinth and turn your body into my manuscript."

Bellatrix's lips slid down her neck as she spoke and Hermione struggled to ignore the throbbing between her legs that seemed to grow more intense with each of her touches and each of her words. God, she had thought dancing with Narcissa was sensual and passionate, but this was a completely different league. They practically had sex in the middle of the dance floor. How could she have expected that the eldest Black daughter would be inferior to her sister in anything? No, of course she had to far surpass her.

Suddenly Bellatrix's hand, which had been resting under her breasts, slid slightly down and cupped her stomach, while she pushed the other between their bodies, placing her palm between Hermione's shoulder blades and gently but firmly bent her upper body forward. Hermione's arms automatically fell forward until her hands almost touched the floor. She felt the blood rushing to her head in this hunched over position.

But she felt even hotter when Bellatrix ran the flat of her hand down her spine until it reached the level of her hips and, together with the hand that had just wrapped her stomach, grabbed her firmly by the hips and pushed her crotch firmly against Hermione's bottom. Hermione groaned as that one thrust ran red hot through her entire body. Shit, shit, shit.

At that moment she was almost grateful that she was bent over so no one could see her face, and hoped fervently that her moans had been lost in the music. She tried to stifle a whimper as Bellatrix began gyrating her hips and grinding against Hermione's bottom. Jesus Christ, the woman was really fucking her in the middle of the dance floor. Even worse, however, was Hermione's instinctive reaction to these touches, as her bottom rubbed against the older woman with the same intensity, as if she was just begging to finally be taken from behind.

She shuddered as she felt Bellatrix lean forward, laying almost her entire upper body on her back. But at the moment when Hermione was already wondering whether she would be able to support the Auror's weight, Bellatrix straightened up again and Hermione gasped in shock when she felt a tug in her hair and scalp. The dark witch had obviously leaned forward to grab her ponytail and was now pulling her up with it, using it like a leash, and back towards her. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time someone had pulled her hair. Probably in kindergarten when another child had tried to tease her. Just like back then, the pull on her scalp hurt, but at the same time this incredibly dominant gesture triggered a tingling sensation in her stomach that she hadn't expected and whose meaning she preferred not to think about in detail at that moment.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as her body stood upright again, slumping against the strong, warm body behind her. Bellatrix let go of her hair and Hermione's head fell on her shoulder. She closed her eyes as the older woman's voice seduced her with her words, "I want to see your hair dance. I want to be your rhythm. I want you to show my mouth your favorite places. Let me push your boundaries until you scream and forget your last name."

Those words made Hermione want to scream just as the black-haired beauty behind her had just whispered in her ear. Images flashed quickly through her mind. Of Bellatrix kneeling in front of her, her almost black eyes piercing her from below, her mouth between her legs, which had already been in one of her favorite places that same evening and had pushed her boundaries. She didn't doubt for a second that this woman would be able to make her scream and forget her own last name in the coming weeks.

Their hips swayed together again in time with the music as Bellatrix's hand wrapped around her from behind again and came to rest on the side of her stomach, where Hermione held it in place with her own hand. The younger woman was absolutely certain that if they hadn't been in a ballroom full of people at that moment, she would have pushed Bellatrix's hand further down without hesitation to the place where all the heat in her body was pooling.

Bellatrix's free hand reached for Hermione's and swung her around, while the other slid from her stomach to her lower back, pressing their upper bodies together. Instinctively, Hermione sought support against the older woman's muscular shoulders and her breath caught in her throat as she met the gaze from dark eyes in which she saw the same lust reflected that had just raced through her body and driven her crazy. The fact that Bellatrix Black seemed to feel the same way she felt filled her with such exhilaration that she had to suppress the impulse to bridge the few millimeters that lay between their lips in order to find an outlet for the energy that had pent up between them.

Dark red painted lips in front of her opened and formed words that made her feel as if they knew exactly what lustful thoughts were running through her head: "If I ask you for a kiss, come and give it to me. I know you're thinking about it. I've been trying for a while. You know that your heart beats faster when you're with me. Come and taste my mouth to see how you like it."

The song seemed to mock her, seemed to know exactly what was going on inside of her and wanted to torture her with its knowledge.

"I want, I want, I want to see how much love you can fit. I'm not in a hurry, I want to make the trip. We start slowly, then wildly. Tell me if you want to do any mischief with me. This has gone crazy. And you're so tight. And I can't hold back. Step by step, gently, very gently. We'll stay together a little longer. And this beauty is a mystery, but to solve it I have the key."

Yes, the older woman actually seemed to have the key, because she managed to elicit secrets from Hermione's body that she hadn't even known existed. They continued to dance, tightly embraced, and when the chorus began and Hermione was already hoping that Bellatrix would find it obsolete to translate these lines again, her lips parted and Hermione had the feeling of fainting right there and then, as Bellatrix didn't translate the lyrics but whispered the words in Spanish into her ear as they kept spinning around the dance floor: "Despacito. Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito, deja que te diga cosas al oído, para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo. Despacito. Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito, firmar las paredes de tu laberinto y hacer de tu body todo un manuscrito. Quiero ver bailar tu pelo. Quiero ser tu ritmo. Que le enseñes a mi boca tus lugares favorites. Déjame sobrepasar tus zones de peligro hasta provocar tus gritos y que olvides tu apellido."

Goosebumps spread all over Hermione's body and she was afraid of coming from Bellatrix's words alone in the middle of the dance floor, when warm hands cupped her cheeks again and made her head circle back like in the beginning of the dance, just to come to a halt when she was at eye level with the dark witch as the last strains of the song faded away. Both women struggled to breathe as Hermione stared dumbfounded into the dark eyes before her and reached for Bellatrix's wrists, holding her hands in place on her overheated cheeks. "Shit, what was that?"

Bellatrix smiled joyfully as she said, still gasping for breath, "Bachata." She took a deep breath in and out to calm her breathing as she added, "Bachata Sensual, actually."

Hermione raised her eyebrows as she gasped, "Yes, damn it, it was."

Bellatrix laughed and Hermione buried her head in the older woman's shoulder and closed her eyes. Soft curls tickled her face, but she didn't care and took a deep breath of the older woman's scent as her breathing slowly calmed. "God, Bella, please don't ever dance with me like that again."

She felt Bellatrix tense and raised her head to meet the confused dark eyes. She added with a smile: "When we're not alone and I can't have you directly afterwards."

This put such a bright smile on the older woman's face that Hermione couldn't help laughing and pulled away from her: "Come on, I'm dying of thirst. I really need to drink something, otherwise I'll burn up."

Bellatrix's smile grew even wider as she let Hermione pull her off the dance floor, who was about to head for her table when she remembered that she had already finished her Lillet earlier. She turned on her heel and dragged Bellatrix behind her towards the bar, who followed her without resistance. With only the need to quench her thirst in mind, she headed straight for the bar where some of the ball guests were sitting or leaning, sipping their drinks as they chatted, laughed, and enjoyed the evening.

No one took notice of them, only a pair of brown eyes were fixed on them and it was only when Hermione met their gaze that she remembered the very existence of the woman who she had completely forgotten during her dance with Bellatrix. The redhead's eyes grew as big as saucers as Hermione confidently headed towards her, Bellatrix in tow, and stopped right in front of her.

Because the redhead was sitting, Hermione towered over her by a few centimeters, which she coldly took advantage of and pierced the other woman with a scowl that left no room for misunderstanding. Neither of them said anything and they didn't have to. She saw the fear flash in the woman's eyes and had to stop herself from grinning with satisfaction.

She took another step towards her and released Bellatrix's hand to place it on the bar counter next to the redhead, which made the other woman shrink even more, clearly intimidated by Hermione's proximity. Hermione exhaled angrily, as if she were about to lecture a small child: "You know, I'm really enjoying this evening so far."

The redhead's voice shook as she said in confusion, "That-that's nice."

Brown eyes darted past Hermione and to Bellatrix for help. "Ah ah," said Hermione, catching the redhead's eye again. "And you see, that's exactly where the problem lies. I would enjoy the evening even more if you didn't keep giving my companion those looks."

She saw the redhead swallow nervously.

"So," she lowered her voice to a menacing whisper, "be a dear and don't come into our sight again tonight." The redhead's eyes widened.

"Do we understand each other?" The redhead just nodded frantically.

Hermione tilted her head: "Then why are you still here?"

The red-haired woman practically fell off her chair in her hasty attempt to get away from the bar and away from Hermione and, to Hermione's satisfaction, headed straight for the ballroom exit. Sighing contentedly, she turned to Bellatrix, who was staring at her with an inscrutable expression.

"What?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix leaned against the bar, resting her elbow on it and letting her head fall into her hand as she looked dreamily at Hermione, "Nothing. I just didn't think you'd learn so quickly, little witch."

When Hermione raised her eyebrows in question, Bellatrix added, still somewhat astonished: "That you discover the power and strength you have so quickly and use it straight away. I am impressed. That was pretty hot."

"Just like your dance," commented a cool voice behind Hermione.

She turned and looked into the ice blue eyes of Narcissa Black, who met her gaze briefly before turning it to her older sister, "Seriously, Bella? Bachata Sensual?! At a ball?!"

"What? You just said yourself that you thought it was hot."

"At a beach party in Costa Rica, maybe, but not in the middle of a ball in London," the blonde snapped. "All that was left was for you to do a striptease, rip off her clothes and take her in the middle of the dance floor."

Bellatrix shrugged indifferently as she tossed a few peanuts that were in small jars on the counter into her mouth: "Maybe next time."

She grinned as she saw how that statement only made Narcissa angrier. But before she could respond with a snarky comment, the bartender interrupted their discussion: "What can I get you, ladies?"

Hermione, grateful for the distraction and hopeful that it would distract the Black sisters from their discussion, responded first: "A Lillet Wild Berry, please."

She looked expectantly to the right at Bellatrix and then to the left at Narcissa, who, after a moment of silent staring, both rolled their eyes and turned to the waiter. Hermione had to suppress a smile. As different as the two sisters were, in some ways they were so similar that it was almost entertaining - if only she didn't get caught up in the gunfire between the two so often.

"Gin and tonic," Bellatrix said towards the bartender.

"A glass of Chardonnay, please," Narcissa ordered, turning her attention to Hermione.

Her ice blue eyes roamed over her black jumpsuit, black pumps, her dark painted eyes and her ponytail. She reached for it, slid her hands through her hair and placed it on Hermione's shoulder before withdrawing her hand and searching Hermione's hazel eyes, "You look stunning, darling."

Hermione beamed at the compliment from the woman who valued good looks so much, but it was Bellatrix who replied, "Thank you, Cissy. It's not like you're the only Black woman with good taste."

Before Narcissa could respond, Bellatrix's dark eyes darted over Narcissa and fixed on something behind her. She hissed warningly: "Cissy –"

The blonde just rolled her eyes and replied in a voice that sounded both annoyed and bored, "I know, Bella. I've already heard him."

Hermione looked between the two sisters, confused. Who had she heard? What did she mean by that?

But before Hermione could say the question out loud, a tall, dark-haired man in a black tuxedo came up behind Narcissa: "Excuse me?"

With a final roll of her eyes, Narcissa turned to the stranger but said nothing.

"May I ask you for the next dance?" He held out his hand invitingly to Narcissa and bowed slightly, without taking his eyes off the elegant blonde. Hermione had to suppress the impulse to step protectively in front of Narcissa and slap his damn hand aside to make it clear to him that Narcissa would in no way be dancing with him tonight. Never, if it were up to her.

She straightened her shoulders, folded her arms across her chest and pierced the dark-haired man with her gaze to provide some outlet for the simmering heat in her chest, but said nothing. Narcissa was still a free woman, it was her choice. As much as Hermione disliked it, she had no claim to the youngest Black sister. Her jaw clenched as she waited anxiously for Narcissa's answer.

"I have to pass, I'm already in company." Relieved, Hermione let her shoulders sink a little. However, the man just smiled charmingly and said, looking at Hermione and Bellatrix, "Surely your friends can do without you for one dance."

Now it was Narcissa who crossed her arms defensively over her chest: "Then let me put it this way: I'm not interested."

Something dark sparkled in the man's eyes that Hermione didn't like at all and his urgent tone only confirmed her impression: "Oh, come on. Surely a woman as beautiful as you needs more attention than that from her friends."

Now he had gone too far. Hermione stepped forward and stood next to Narcissa in front of him: "She'll get it, don't worry."

He straightened up, withdrew his hand and eyed Hermione with amusement: "Oh yes, and from whom?"

Hermione pointedly clasped Narcissa's hand in hers and replied, "From me."

When he merely raised a mocking eyebrow, she added, "She's here with me."

Now he laughed outright: "Nice try, kid, but I know lesbians when I see one, and you two," he waved his index fingers back and forth between the two of them, "are definitely not lesbians. You'll have to think of something better to drive me away."

As you wish, Hermione thought, giving him one last withering look and jerking Narcissa towards her. A gasp of surprise escaped the blonde as Hermione wrapped her arms around her, placed a hand possessively on her cheek, and kissed her with all the passion that had built up in the younger witch during her dance with Bellatrix. It didn't take a second for Narcissa's lips to react under Hermione's caresses and return the kiss just as passionately.

Hermione's hand on Narcissa's cheek went to the back of her neck, stroking the fine hairs there and she only pulled the blonde closer to her. A shudder ran through Narcissa's body and she opened her mouth with a sigh, which Hermione took as a silent invitation and let her tongue slide exploratively into the older woman's mouth without breaking the kiss for a second.

Both women moaned as their tongues met for the first time, dancing around each other like their bodies had before on the dance floor, sliding wetly over each other. Narcissa tasted wonderful. Like white wine, berries and the sweet cream filling from one of the appetizers from the buffet. Hermione pressed the blonde's body against the bar counter and sucked greedily on the older woman's tongue. She could feel Narcissas' knees weakening as the body in her arms grew heavier and leaned against her.

She was only too ready to hug her even tighter when the loud clearing of a throat broke her out of her trance: "You can stop now, you know. He is gone."

Hermione opened her eyes in shock and pulled her lips away from Narcissa's as Bellatrix's voice reached her like through a mist. Oh my God, what had she done? She loosened her grip on Narcissa's waist and looked nervously into the blue eyes before her, her eyelids fluttering as if the blonde was just coming to her senses.

She had just kissed Narcissa Black in public, right in front of her sister, as uninhibitedly as if they were the only two people in the world. In a panic, she let go of Narcissa, grabbed her drink from the counter and practically ran back to their table. She could hear Narcissa calling her behind her, but she didn't slow her pace, didn't turn around, and certainly didn't stop.

She didn't dare to look at Minerva as she collapsed into her chair next to her, gasped for breath and took long sips of her drink to numb her rising panic. Even during their time alone together in the bathroom, Narcissa had been unwilling to kiss her with tongue, and less than an hour later, Hermione was willing to throw the older woman's wishes overboard in public just because she was jealous?!

Hermione didn't recognize herself and could understand it just all too well when the youngest Black sister was angry with her for not respecting her boundaries. Then she heard heels approaching quickly and looked up when Narcissa called her name again and came towards her, closely followed by Bellatrix, who stopped behind her sister.

"Cissy, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, I-"

"Shhhh," Narcissa silenced her, smiled and put her hands around Hermione's cheeks and stroked them. Hermione tilted her head slightly in question as she looked into the amused sparkling blue eyes, in which she saw nothing of the anger that the younger woman had so fully expected.

Smiling, Narcissa explained, "Darling, you have lipstick everywhere."

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed.

"I'm not mad at you, darling. I just didn't want you walking around the ballroom looking like a clown."

Again, Hermione only managed a surprised "Oh" as she tried to process Narcissa's words while the blonde lovingly ran both thumbs over and around her lips until her hands cupped her cheeks again and Narcissa looked down at her contentedly: "There you go, as good as new."

Narcissa stroked her cheeks soothingly again as Hermione's brain slowly seemed to function again and of course first formulated a question: "But Cissy, why didn't your lipstick rub off in the bathroom earlier?"

Now the blonde grinned and her blue eyes sparkled as she replied, "Well, darling, that's because you didn't kiss me there like you wanted to eat me whole."

Glass shattered and both women jumped in shock as they looked in the direction the sound had come from. Hermione looked in shock at the broken glass in Minerva's hand, where the remains of the amber liquid flowed between the shards of glass in her hand, meeting the blood that oozed from several cuts on her hand where the shards of glass had dug into the headmistress's skin and dripped onto the tablecloth in a brown-red mixture.

She looked up at Minerva, who didn't even seem to notice that she was bleeding, because her piercing green eyes were fixed on Narcissa and Hermione as if trapped in a trance. Her eyes were dark and her jaw muscles twitched, but otherwise she didn't move an inch.

Hermione jumped up: "Minerva, you're bleeding."

Only now did the black-haired Scottish woman seem to wake up from her trance and looked at Hermione in confusion.

"Minerva, you're bleeding," Hermione repeated urgently, pointing to Minerva's hand, which was bleeding even more with every second.

Without showing any reaction, Minerva's gaze followed Hermione's gesture and fell on her bleeding hand. Seemingly irritated, she moved it so that the larger shards of glass fell onto the tablecloth and held it in front of her face, as if she had yet to realize that it was her own hand that was bleeding. But the movements of her hand only caused more blood to ooze from the many small wounds.

Hermione stepped forward and grabbed the older woman by the wrist of her injured hand before she could make any more careless movements: "Stop, stop, stop, you're just making it worse."

She grabbed a clean napkin and held it under Minerva's bleeding hand, motioning for her to stand and follow her. She breathed a sigh of relief when the otherwise stubborn woman obeyed her without hesitation. Carefully, so as not to hurt her, but still quickly, Hermione pulled her alongside her, led her to the bathroom door, which opened as if by itself as they approached, as if it sensed that it was urgent, and closed just as silently on its own behind them again.

Hermione led Minerva to the sink, held her injured hand over it, and pulled out her wand. As she pointed it at Minerva's hand to carefully remove the shards of glass, the Headmistress seemed to have come out of her trance and at least found her voice again as she said in a commanding voice, "I can do this myself."

Hermione held Minerva's wrist with iron strength and didn't let go when Minerva tried to break away. "Just like you can hold your glass yourself?"

This made the tall Scottish woman pause in her efforts and Hermione felt guilt well up in her because she hadn't meant to sound so accusatory. She looked briefly into Minerva's emerald green eyes before moving on to the next piece of glass: "I'm sorry, does it hurt a lot?"

Minerva rolled her eyes, looked away and shrugged indifferently: "Just a scratch."

Hermione would have hit the older woman for her ignorance, her stubbornness and her almost childish behavior if she hadn't already been hurt and if Hermione hadn't had any idea what was causing Minerva's uncharacteristic behavior. She swallowed the words that were on the tip of her tongue, gritted her teeth, and focused back on Minerva's hand. She removed the remaining shards of glass, carefully ran water over the wounds to clean them, whispered "Episkey" several times as she ran her wand over the small cuts. Only when she could see nothing but pink skin did she put the wand aside and carefully run her fingers over Minerva's palm, looking for any possible shards of glass or cuts she had missed.

The headmistress had remained remarkably calm throughout the entire process and didn't even bat an eyelid, not even when the water flowed over her bleeding hand and the wounds must have burned like hell. But when Hermione's fingers gently traced the lines of her hand, the older woman winced as if she had been burned and jerked her hand out of Hermione's grasp.

The younger woman tried not to show how much the gesture hurt her and tried to be professional: "There, no wounds left. Would you please move your hand for me – but carefully! – and tell me if anything still hurts or feels strange?"

Minerva looked at her frustrated, but did as she was told and wiggled her hand: "No, Poppy, as good as new, you see?" She held her palm pointedly in front of Hermione's face. "Are you happy now?"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest: "No, Minerva, I'm not."

The black-haired woman mirrord her movements, crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her challengingly: "Oh no?"

"No, Minerva." She tried not to avoid the authoritative look in emerald green eyes. "We should talk about this."

Minerva turned away annoyed and walked into the middle of the room, her back to Hermione: "Nonsense, there's nothing we need to talk about."

Hermione walked after her, stepped right in front of her so she couldn't avoid her gaze, and said urgently, "Minerva, you just broke a glass with your hand."

"That happened by accident," the older woman replied defensively, trying to avoid the hazel eyes, but Hermione grabbed her arm: "You're Minerva McGonagall, nothing happens to you by accident."

"Maybe my temper got the better of me again."

"Why?"

Minerva tore herself away from her and hissed, "You know exactly why!" Emerald green eyes glared at her angrily.

Hermione tilted her head sympathetically, "You're jealous."

It was a statement, not a question. She didn't know if it was her calm tone or the fact that she had voiced Minerva's jealousy out loud, but that seemed to finally make the tall headmistress lose her composure, because she began to pace up and down the small bathroom in anger, and suddenly the words just gushed out of her: "And how could I not be when these women never miss an opportunity to flirt with you, undress you with their eyes, touch you, dress you in clothes that leave nothing to anyone's imagination and I don't even want to know what they did to you in here, other than obviously kiss you on the first night!"

Her voice had grown louder with each word until she was almost screaming. All the mirrors in the room shattered as all the uncontrolled magic left Minerva's body along with her words. Breathing heavily, she straightened up and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger as if she had a headache, obviously trying to collect and calm herself.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," Hermione whispered carefully, but didn't dare approach Minerva while she was still so upset.

"What are you apologizing for? It's not your fault after all," Minerva replied, her voice already a little calmer. After controlling and suppressing her emotions all evening, her emotional outburst now seemed to have drained her and she suddenly seemed incredibly exhausted.

Hermione took a step towards her: "But I'm not doing anything about it either."

A sarcastic laugh escaped from Minerva's throat: "And why should you? Who wouldn't want to be desired and seduced by the Black sisters?"

She put her hands on her hips and looked sadly down at Hermione, who had stopped in front of her: "Besides, that's exactly why we're here, isn't it? So you can find out which of the three of us suits you best."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Minerva's waist and smiled lovingly up at her: "And if you're the best match for me?"

Minerva smiled sadly, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rested her hand on her cheek. She sighed, "I'm not like that, Hermione. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm not going to jump on you every chance I get, even with the time constraints of just three weeks."

She stroked Hermione's cheek with her thumb and the younger woman almost nuzzled into the gentle touch. "That's just not who I am."

Hermione looked up at her challengingly: "And who am I?"

Minerva frowned in confusion, "Excuse me?"

"Who am I?" Hermione repeated her question.

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Everything."

Notes:

Wow, a lot happened there. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on the dance with Bella, the confrontation with the redhead, the kiss with Narcissa and especially Minerva's outburst.

Inspiration for Bachata:

watch?v=BE15ABGDL7k

watch?v=COwTmD0-Hsg

watch?v =42Hq_ZcvdcA

watch?v=-TdA3RaZ0Jo