Minerva McGonagall, Narcissa Black, Bellatrix Black. Minerva McGonagall, Narcissa Black, Bellatrix Black. Minerva McGonagall, Narcissa Black, Bellatrix Black.
Hermione felt dizzy, even though she was lying on the comfortable carpeted floor of her living room, her legs propped up on the sofa in front of her and looking up at the white ceiling.
She had no idea how long she had been in this position since she had returned to her apartment straight after escaping from the café, carelessly dropped her bag on the floor in the hallway and collapsed right in the living room, completely overwhelmed by the events of the afternoon.
She had clearly underestimated the whole situation. She admitted that she had gone into this meeting a little carelessly, almost completely convinced that Minerva McGonagall, Narcissa Black and Bellatrix Black could never be her three candidates, even though Ginny, Harry and Draco had insisted on telling the truth.
Of course, she hadn't assumed that her friends had lied to her, but the idea that these three women could be even remotely interested in her and had agreed to date her in the next three weeks was so completely absurd and beyond her imagination, she hadn't given a moment's thought to how she actually felt about this.
Her feelings had overcome her all the more violently at the place and time when she had least expected and wanted them, namely in the presence of the three women.
Hermione took a deep breath and felt her stomach rise under her folded hands that rested on her stomach, trying to calm the rising panic that was threatening to spread within her again as she thought back on the encounter with the three women in the café earlier.
All three were no strangers to her, but she didn't really know any of them. That first meeting had made that all too clear.
She had known Minerva McGonagall almost all of her life and had had a huge crush on her Transfiguration teacher and later headmistress when she was at school, but who did she really have a crush on? She knew the attractive Scottish woman above all as a strict, fair-minded and integrity-loving teacher who, although she did not behave coldly towards her students, valued professional distance and was generally a very private person.
The woman who showed up at the café today was completely different just by her appearance. Still elegantly dressed, reflecting the position of power she held in wizarding society, but revealing so much more than Hermione had ever seen of her before.
As a student, she had found the older woman with the severe bun and piercing green eyes extremely attractive, even in her wide cloak. It was her attitude, her whole demeanor and her strong self-confidence that she had always found so attractive.
Of course, she had often wondered what Minerva McGonagall looked like under those loose cloaks. Often in daydreams during Transfiguration class, when she could shamelessly watch the witch without drawing attention to herself, she would imagine stripping Minerva of each layer of heavy robes, piece by piece, exposing her pale and slender body.
Because even though Hermione had never seen her in other clothes or even naked, she could draw logical conclusions about the rest of her body from what Minerva McGonagall was willing to show. A narrow, pale face with high cheekbones, a long, swan-like neck, and narrow shoulders suggested that her narrow physiognomy, as well as her porcelain-white skin, characterized the rest of her body.
But what gave Hermione the clearest clue were Minerva McGonagall's hands. God, those hands. Hermione had been obsessed with her Transfiguration teacher's slim, delicate hands.
The skill, elegance and efficiency with which Minerva McGonagall performed the most complex spells was legendary. Often, so often, Hermione had wondered how talented these hands might be in other areas. She had imagined how these hands, which perfectly controlled both gentle and light movements as well as strong and firm ones, would feel on her body. Hands that knew exactly what they were doing because they were following the orders of a woman known for her determination and persistence.
Hermione could only imagine that Minerva McGonagall would demonstrate a level of stamina and tenacity in bed that was comparable to that in her daily work life, as she pushed her talented fingers all the way into Hermione, with the goal of making her climax as often as possible, until the young woman would forget her own name.
Hermione's heartbeat quickened and she had to concentrate on her breathing again to calm herself when she suddenly realized that this fantasy she had had so often as a pubescent student was no longer outside the realm of possibility. She had already felt these hands, her hands, on herself today. They had touched her shoulder, rested on her own hand, stroked her cheek.
She touched the spot on her cheek with her own hand, hoping to recapture and recreate the feeling of those gentle fingers on her skin. But her own hand was only a distant copy of Minerva's fingers.
Minerva. The older woman had insisted that she shouldn't call her by her title. Wanted her to call her by her real name. "Minerva," Hermione whispered in the silence of her living room, as if it were a word in a foreign language that she had yet to practice pronouncing. "Minerva," she repeated, still foreign on her tongue, unfamiliar and yet somehow familiar. It was an exhilarating feeling to say her first name out loud.
Not that Hermione hadn't whispered it to herself countless times. In lonely nights in her own room at Hogwarts, which she was entitled to as a prefect. When she had let her hands wander under the covers and over her body, closing her eyes and imagining Minerva's hands caressing her, teasing her, eliciting sounds from her throat that she didn't recognize herself.
When she imagined her slim body on top of hers, pressed against her and rubbing against hers. In these moments of highest ecstasy, Hermione had dared to whisper Minerva's name like a secret into the darkness of her room as she pushed her fingers into herself faster and faster, wildly massaging her clitoris with her other hand in quick movements until the desired orgasm shook her body and she moaned out Minerva's name one last time before, exhausted and breathing heavily, she curled up under her blanket, wrapping her own arms around herself and imagining being held by Minerva's strong arms, wrapping protectively around her.
Saying Minerva's name in those moments had felt like a dirty secret that no one was ever allowed to know about. Now having permission, even being asked to do so by the older woman, was...overwhelming.
It was an access to the woman that had always been denied to her and which was suddenly wide open. She just had to seize the chance, just had to walk through the door that had been opened for her. But who would be waiting for her on the other side?
The woman who had sat next to her today was still the same, was still Minerva McGonagall, but she had behaved so differently towards her than she knew her to. Not only the stern appearance but also the stern demeanor was gone.
She was still controlled and had been rather dismissive and distant towards the Black sisters. But not towards Hermione. She had been warm, cordial, open, even charming. She had called her "Hermione", had called her "dear", had touched her, even flirted with her.
God, I'm afraid there are still so many layers and facets to be revealed in the complexity of this woman. The only question was whether Hermione's feelings for Professor McGonagall were the same as those for Minerva McGonagall, a woman she clearly barely knew.
It was even more difficult with the other two women, with whom she did not have such a long history, even if their paths had certainly crossed in the past.
Well, Draco had known her as long as Minerva had, but they had been bitter enemies in school and their friendship had only developed after the war. And even though he was now one of her best and closest friends, that didn't mean she knew his mother. His mother…Narcissa Black.
Goosebumps spread all over her body at the thought of the long legs, the confident walk, the long platinum blonde hair and, above all, the piercing blue eyes that could pin you down with their coldness with a single glance with the power to freeze everything in their surroundings in one second, only to sparkle so brightly in the next second that they made you feel like you were looking into the vastness of the Caribbean Sea. In water that was so clear you could see to the bottom and wanted nothing more than to completely sink into it.
But Hermione had no illusions. There are dangers lurking in the depths of every sea, no matter how beautiful it is. Uncharted territory that was as fascinating as it was dangerous, and that this woman was dangerous was beyond question. Well, not since the war in the way you might think.
Narcissa, still Malfoy at the time, had made a significant contribution to winning the war by lying to Voldemort and saving Harry's and many others' lives. Many people, including Hermione, had to come to terms with the fact that the woman had been on their side from the start and, like Snape, had acted as a double agent.
But at the latest after the divorce from Lucius Malfoy, who had really been a loyal supporter of Voldemort, and her own and Draco's public distancing from him and his views, the public image of her had changed. And in public she remained.
The former model wife and mother took advantage of her newfound freedom, got her degree in potions and showed her talent as a businesswoman by building a galleon-sized potions empire from the ground up and quickly dominating the English market. According to the gossip magazines who were only too happy to report about her, she used this money not only for her favorite hobby, fashion, but also for charity.
Hermione didn't know how many balls she'd heard of that Narcissa Black had organized to raise funds for war victims and their families, children who couldn't afford education, or young innovative minds who needed seed money to put their ideas into action.
She had to admit that she was extremely impressed with the woman's career and how she had managed to earn her place at the top of wizarding society. Not to mention that she was an expert in potions, in which Hermione was currently graduating herself. For academic reasons alone, she found Narcissa incredibly fascinating.
But she had also heard that the woman was a cold-blooded businesswoman when the going got tough, and that she did it with calculation. Hermione could imagine that all too well from their brief encounter earlier.
Her pulse quickened as she remembered how clearly Narcissa Black had flirted with her and made it very clear that she was interested in her. At the same time, a pleasant warmth spread in her chest as she remembered that she had called her "darling." This nickname had clearly not left her unmoved.
But just as with Minerva before, in Narcissa's case, Hermione had the feeling that she didn't know the woman at all, only the public facade of her. What if Hermione was just one of her next funding projects worth investing in? One of many…
She harbored the same insecurity regarding the eldest Black sister, who was notorious for her numerous and ever-changing conquests. Her greatest fears about Bellatrix were that she was just looking for the next adventure, the next conquest, the next challenge.
Hermione had never heard of the woman being in a serious relationship since, like her sister before her, she had revealed herself to be a double agent and suddenly turned against Voldemort himself in the final battle. An ice-cold shiver ran through Hermione's entire body at the memory of that moment.
She had just fought against the eldest Black sister herself, with Ginny and Luna at her side, and even with the three of them they were hardly a match for the dark witch. They had tirelessly fired spells and curses at the crazy-laughing woman, who had dodged all their attacks with a dancing ease and nullified their efforts with an almost bored and casual wave of her wand.
The bright madness had shone in her black eyes when, after a long back and forth, she slowly became impatient and snapped her wand like a whip against the three younger witches and froze all three of them in the middle of the movement with a Body-Bind Curse.
As if it had been only yesterday, Hermione could feel the panic that had taken hold of her at that moment, when she was helpless at the mercy of the Dark Lord's most loyal follower. Frozen into the proverbial pillar of salt, there was nothing that could be done about it as Bellatrix Lestrange pointed her wand at her, tilted her head and clearly enjoyed the moment.
That moment when Hermione was sure it would be her last, as Bellatrix's mouth opened to utter the deadly words that would end her life once and for all. But they never came.
As Hermione stood there frozen in that moment, staring helplessly and desperately into the depths of those dark eyes, unable to look away even if she had been able to, something completely unexpected happened.
As if someone had flipped a switch, the entire demeanor of the most dangerous witch in the world changed. She straightened up and swiveled her head from side to side until her vertebrae cracked, as if she had spent too long hunched over at her desk in the same concentrated position and had just gotten up to stretch after many long hours of work.
The crazy grin was wiped from her face in an instant and gave way to a still arrogant grin before she pressed her lips together decisively, as if she had just made a decision.
With a casual movement of her hand, she ran her hand through her hair to banish the curly strands that usually fell over her face, giving her overall appearance an additional touch of madness, back into her flowing mane of black hair, thereby unhindering her view of her onyx colored eyes.
Eyes that made Hermione's breath hitch as they looked at her with an intensity that was, on the one hand, perfectly suited to Bellatrix Lestrange and, on the other hand, completely unlike the witch who had just stood in front of her. Gone was the crazy look, gone was the madness from the dark eyes, gone was the haunted twitching of the restless pupils.
What Hermione saw instead, as Bellatrix's eyes bore into her own, was clarity, determination and…anger? Hermione blinked in disbelief and tried to find an explanation for this transformation that had taken place right before her eyes, which couldn't have lasted even a fraction of a second and which at that moment Hermione was no longer entirely sure whether she had just imagined it.
But before Hermione could even form a clear thought, she heard the words "Protego Maxima" come out of the black-haired witch's mouth and watched in surprise as a shield spell was cast around herself and her two friends, from which spells and curses flying wildly through the Great Hall bounced off like flies.
Less than a second later, she felt the Body-Bind Curse being lifted and her legs, which had just been held up by the curse, giving way beneath her. But before she could hit the hard marble floor, an invisible force caught her and held her suspended in the air for a brief moment before she gently slid to the ground.
When she raised her head, she looked into the amused eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, who still had her wand pointed at her and had clearly performed the levitation spell. "Don't hurt yourself, little witch," she whispered smugly, before her expression became serious and determined again, she turned around with blinding speed and Hermione was blinded by the blinding green light that shot from her wand at her former Lord, whose eyes were wide with horror.
He wasn't the only one who was frozen in shock at this moment when his most loyal follower had suddenly turned against him and thus changed the fate of the entire wizarding society for the better. Everyone in the Great Hall, students, teachers, Death Eaters, giants and centaurs, had stopped at that moment and watched in disbelief as the supposed mistress of darkness had sided with the light and thus helped them win.
But her 180-degree turn didn't end there, as her identity as a double agent was confirmed after the battle. Much like her sister, Bellatrix seemed to be enjoying and making full use of her newfound freedom, but to such an extent that it felt like she needed to make up for the lost years in Voldemort's service as quickly as possible.
However, she did not have to seek a divorce and a public distance from her husband Rodolphus Lestrange after the end of the war, as he had died in the final battle of Hogwarts, and to this day there were persistent rumors that Bellatrix had killed him herself to free herself from this marriage arranged by her parents, but nothing could ever be proven against her.
Free from all constraints, the witch, emaciated by her years in Azkaban and the horrors of war, really blossomed, gained a few kilos in all the right places and swapped her long skirts for trousers and suits, while she remained true to her favorite color and birth name, which she took once again.
Bellatrix Black threw herself into adventurous hobbies such as motocross, kickboxing and other martial arts with almost childlike enthusiasm and energy. She continued to use her skills and knowledge in the service of the good side and helped the Ministry to find the remaining Death Eaters who had fled after Voldemort's fall and put them behind bars.
After that, no one was surprised when she was quickly accepted into the ranks of the Aurors and, after a rocket-like rise, became their head, continuing to hunt down everything evil that stirred in the underground of the wizarding community with her fine instincts and daring methods.
But she not only went on the "hunt" professionally, but also in her private life. Much like in the other areas of her life, Bellatrix Black seemed to be making up for lost time, ravenously throwing herself at every woman that came her way, and she didn't even have to try very hard to do it.
The women she met seemed to fall victim to her looks and her charm and so it didn't take long until she had built up a certain reputation in dealing with women that ensured that her abilities between the sheets preceded her and were downright legendary. A legend in bed…
Yes, Hermione could only imagine the extraordinary abilities the dark witch possessed when she thought back to how confidently she had marched into the café, how obviously she had flaunted her charms and how playfully light her tongue had slipped around the ice cubes.
She shuddered at the memory of the ice cube on her neck and the intense gaze with which Bellatrix had assessed her during it. A look from which the charming playfulness was suddenly gone and which showed concern and serious interest. Or had she just imagined it? Was it just a ploy to get under Hermione's skin? To "win, as Bellatrix had said herself?
Minerva's accusation that this bet was just a game for Bellatrix to win didn't seem at all unreasonable to her at that moment. But why had Bellatrix reacted so angrily to this accusation? Because it was too close or too far from the actual truth? The truth…
What had driven the three women to meet her in the café and thus accept this bet? None of them had responded in the least to Hermione's suggestion that they should somehow avoid these three weeks if they had been bribed, blackmailed or otherwise persuaded to do so by their friends.
Even as she thought that, Hermione laughed at the idea of anyone trying to even remotely intimidate any of the three women. She rubbed her face with her hands as the three women took shape in her mind's eye and she had to admit to herself how incredibly attractive, intelligent, successful, breathtakingly beautiful and self-confident they all were and how much she was attracted to each of them in their own way.
She clasped her hands together, resting the backs of her hands on her forehead and exhaling deeply, staring desperately at her living room ceiling. She shook her head at herself and before Harry's voice in her head could make any important addition, she exclaimed in frustration: "And yes, they are all a lot older than me, so exactly my type, thank you very much! "
God, just the thought of going on dates with these three women made Hermione's stomach do somersaults. These women would absolutely make any thoughts of their thesis go up in smoke with the fire they ignited in her lower abdomen just by showing any interest in her at all.
And all three had clearly shown interest in the café. An interest that Hermione was obviously hopelessly overwhelmed with. What else would have happened if she hadn't stormed out of the café in such a panic? Would the three of them have made more advances or would they not have made any attempts at all because of the argument about who was the best candidate for her?
But what use were these thoughts now that she had ended their first date so abruptly? You're such an idiot, Hermione. If the three of them had actually had even the slightest interest in her, it had certainly vanished into thin air by now because of her childish behavior.
Would Ginny give her back her laptop now that she had successfully put the three women to flight? Annoyed, she shouted at the ceiling: "Jesus Christ, who knew that Minerva McGonagall, Bellatrix Black and Narcissa Black wanted to date me of all people?"
"Well, actually, we told you that from the start", came a bossy voice from her fireplace, it's flames glowing green, revealing Draco Malfoy walking into her living room wearing a charcoal gray suit.
Within a second, the arrogant expression on his face gave way to irritation and serious concern when he saw her lying on the floor right in front of him and noticed her strange position with her feet on the sofa: "Hermione? Everything ok?"
The fact that he called her by her first name spoke volumes about how worried he really was about her, and Hermione's heart warmed. She nodded, hoping to sound nonchalant: "Yes, yes, everything's great." Telltale tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded vehemently, trying to convince herself and her friend that she was fine, but she didn't only feel how wrong she was, but also saw in Draco's gray eyes how unconvincing her words were.
She went from nodding vehemently to shaking her head vehemently: "No, everything's such a mess. Well, it's not like I'm hurting or have any physical problems. I'm doing well. Good, good, good, really good."
Hot tears were now streaming down her cheeks and she looked away from Draco and turned them back to the living room ceiling. "I'm just lying here on my living room floor, having a nice combination of a panic attack and a nervous breakdown, trying to forget this day when I made an absolute fool of myself in front of the most attractive witches the wizarding world currently has to offer, but other than that I've never felt better. Yes, really. Everything's absolutely great."
Sniffling, she wiped her teary eyes, hoping to control her crying fit, but she didn't succeed. Especially not when Draco sat down on the sofa next to her feet, placed a hand on her shin and began to stroke up and down soothingly with his thumb.
"What can I do?" he asked with genuine compassion and tears came to Hermione's eyes again, but this time out of gratitude for having found such a great friend in her former school enemy.
She shrugged helplessly: "I don't know...Nothing...As if there's anything else that could be done...Oh wait, you could obliviate me!"
"Funny, Granger. Forget it." He pulled a handkerchief from his suit jacket and handed it to her. She took it gratefully, wiping the tears from her eyes and drying her cheeks.
"You could give me back my laptop?" she asked innocently, blowing her nose.
Draco laughed ironically and slapped her shin in a friendly manner with the hand that had just been caressing her: "And give you workaholic back your favorite drug after we've just started the withdrawal process? Keep dreaming."
Offended, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "But the bet is over anyway, so you can just give me the laptop back," she tried to argue.
"What do you mean, the bet is over?" Draco asked suspiciously.
Hermione let out a frustrated breath, "Believe me, Draco, after what happened today, these women wouldn't be in their right minds if they ever wanted to have anything to do with me again."
"Then I guess they are."
„What?"
"Not in their right minds."
"What do you mean?"
He rolled his eyes and looked so much like his mother that Hermione had to smile. "Why do you think I'm here to check on you and how I even know that someone should check on you?"
The answer was as obvious as it was frightening: "Narcissa."
Draco grinned meaningfully: "Hmm, so you're already calling her by her first name, that's a step forward since earlier."
Suddenly Hermione sat up: "She told you." It wasn't a question and her mind went on a rollercoaster as she tried to imagine what exactly Narcissa might have told her son about their first meeting together.
She didn't have to wait too long for answers as Draco was already starting to talk: "Oh yeah, she told me about your sneaky plan to not go on the dates at all but to pretend to do so towards us."
He leaned towards her, elbows on his knees and hands clasped loosely between his legs: "A pretty lousy attempt, Granger, even for you. Unfortunately, the shot backfired. We'll keep an even closer eye on you from now on, my dear, and we are already thinking about adding an additional date that wasn't originally planned, but since you stomed out on today's a lot earlier..."
"So the dates are still happening?" she interrupted him in disbelief, but also slightly hopeful. She surprised herself at how hopeful she sounded, even though she hadn't originally wanted these dates at all.
"Yes, Granger, the dates are still happening." He smiled knowingly and the warmth returned to his eyes, which had just sparkled reproachfully when he had confronted her about her attempt to get out of this bet.
After everything that had happened, the women still wanted to meet her? For three whole weeks? Doubts crept into Hermione's mind and her eyes darted restlessly across the living room floor, searching for a logical explanation for something that seemed anything but logical to her.
But before she could get lost in her thoughts any longer, three envelopes slid into her field of vision: "If you don't believe me, maybe you'll believe them?"
Confused, Hermione looked from the letters to Draco and back again. She stared transfixed at the three envelopes that each had her name on them, and her heart began to pound excitedly at what the three women might have to say to her after today's disaster.
With trembling fingers she accepted the letters and still incredulously ran her fingers over her name on the letters, as if she wanted to convince herself that it was really there and that the letters were really for her.
She only peripherally noticed that Draco stood up next to her and patted her reassuringly on the shoulder before making his way into the kitchen: "I'll make us a cup of coffee while you read in peace."