TW: Penetrative things between wlw
TW: If you squint, Animagus-type heat-type things, kinda - squint hard.
TW: If you squint, consensual kinda-not-quite-semi-consent
To clarify the above, it is consensual - but it does start without one party's explicit consent but with the assumed consent because of something that is impossible. It will make more sense if you read it but I will not be offended if you do not, on the off chance.
A/N: Now. It's definitely not only p*rn. It has plot. But not too much of it lol It's been a little earwig of mine for a very long time and actually spun off a much ... meatier :') ... story that isn't close to being finished but this has grabbed at me for a few weeks, so here we are. Because of that, this is quite superficial. Doing One's Duty I haven't looked at yet cos this has been obnoxious but the plan is still as soon as possible and to the end of ends.
-0-
The idea, initially, had been a good one. A post-war, friendly game of Quidditch between the greats. The playbill was rather impressive; legendary chaser, Madam Rolanda Hooch. One half of the greatest beater duo Hogwarts had ever seen George Weasley and of course, the great Harry Potter - youngest Seeker in a century. The rest were made up of former students, recent and historical, but the real draw was someone else entirely. Minerva McGonagall: Headmistress of Hogwarts, Transfiguration Master, Order of Merlin (Second Class) was taking to the skies for the first time in nearly sixty years.
The rumours flowed freely.
A bet between professors.
A dare.
And more cruelly:
A last desperate attempt to cling to her youth.
Hermione Granger, however, knew better.
As usual.
As best friend to Harry Potter, organiser of this cockamamie idea, she knew exactly why Minerva McGonagall, Order of Merlin (Second Class) and stalwart Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had agreed to this foolhardy plan.
It was, really, rather simple, actually.
Harry Potter and George Weasley had turned up on Minerva's doorstep, armed with a bottle of very expensive whisky and had begged her to play. As usual, Hermione snorted to herself as she settled in her seat, Minerva was powerless to refuse her boys as Hermione had taken to calling them.
After the war, everyone had gone to ground. There was a lot of healing to be done and a lot of soul searching to be done and it was a long and sometimes dark process. Gradually though, the fighters began to emerge from their self-imposed exiles and had settled back into society. Friendships had been rebuilt, stronger and safer than ever. Harry and Hermione had never stopped talking. In fact for a long time, Hermione had lived at Grimmauld place with Harry, until they'd finished cleaning the place up and she'd decided she needed a space of her own. They'd found a nice little bungalow not too far away and she'd used a fair bit of the money she'd made from selling her parents house to buy it.
It had been exactly what she needed to finally let go of the pain she'd carried with her since their tumultuous school years. It was purely by chance that she'd met Minerva again. She quite literally bumped into her, one day, while she was wandering the bookshop in the lesser known Ilkley township. She'd taken to visiting the less-well-known wizarding villages if she needed something magical, if only to avoid the stares and the whispers that would probably follow her for the rest of her life. It turned out that Minerva had been doing the same for years.
They'd struck up a conversation right there in the stacks and had met for tea at least once a week and dinner every few weeks, since then. When Harry had come to Hermione and told her about the Quidditch match to end all Quidditch matches, Hermione had been supportive, but when Minerva had told her that she'd agreed to play, Hermione had been less so.
In actual fact, there had been a rather heated argument about age, which only Hermione could have participated in, and, more importantly, about previous injuries.
"Nonsense," Minerva had said. "It's nought but a friendly game of Quidditch. What could go wrong?"
Famous.
Last.
Words.
-0-
Hermione settled deeper into her seat. She snuggled into the collar of her coat and rolled her eyes at their timing. It wasn't particularly cold, but a fierce Scottish breeze had whipped up and it was cool enough for Hermione to want to cradle a cup of tea in her hands while she watched. The problem with that was that she'd never successfully stayed seated at a Quidditch match and she definitely did not want to throw it all over the Minister of Magic's aide, who was sitting in front of her and trying not to turn around to gawp.
Instead she bounced her knee to take her mind off the cool wind slipping down her spine and tried to ignore the niggling feeling in the back of her mind that something terrible was going to happen.
Harry had requested a professional referee from the Quidditch league to come and officiate the game so that Madam Hooch could be free to play and while she was still woolgathering, the game started.
Hermione remembered the times Madam Hooch had refereed the school games and had asked for a nice clean game. She hoped beyond hope that this would be one and to begin, as far as Hermione could tell, it was.
The problem with 2 teams made up of mostly Gryffindors and Slytherins and all of them Quidditch nuts, it did not take long for everybody's competitive side to appear. Hermione was hiding behind her hands to avoid the heart palpitations that came with her nearest and dearest dodging bludgers and beater's bats and flying in the most horrendously impressive way she'd ever seen. She winced with the rest of the crowd as George sent a bludger flying directly at Oliver Wood's face and laughed when Oliver rolled on his broom and came up with a look on his face that spelled trouble. George made a face that Hermione couldn't help but laugh at and the game carried on.
After a little back and forth, the quaffle was plucked from the air by none other than Minerva McGonagall. She did a most impressive shimmy to avoid Rolanda's outstretched hand and then rolled like Oliver had to avoid a bludger aimed at her, only to cockily throw the quaffle through the hoop.
"What did I tell you Ladies and Gentlemen, Minerva McGonagall is a flyer ."
She chuckled despite her worry as Lee continued to wax lyrically about their friend. She had missed his joyous commentary and it almost felt like old times as the game continued. Harry and, yes of all people, Draco Malfoy were elbow to elbow above the game, watching eagle-eyed for the snitch. A cheer went up as Oliver saved a shot from Minerva and Rolanda scooped up the ball with a cackle that the crowd heard clearly.
It was so tense and then -
"Potter dives!"
She watched, heart in mouth as Harry shot down through the players. She stood to follow his path but a well-timed bludger from the Wimbourne Wasps professional beater, a former student from years before, made him swerve off to the side and he thumped his broomstick in frustration. The game, however, was devolving before her eyes. George and his beating partner were losing control of themselves and so the other pair retaliated until the bludgers were flying thick and fast.
Hermione remained on her feet as Minerva took both hands off her broom and plucked the quaffle from the air and swung, again, under her broom to avoid a meaty arm from another ex-student she couldn't name. She dived under the other two opposition players who only just managed to avoid colliding with each other and sped off from the closest defender. Hermione could clearly see why Rolanda had been excited to learn she would be playing. Lee went wild and Hermione was screaming along with everyone else as Minerva took on the entire team with the Quaffle under her arm.
It was why the opposition beater swinging wildly at the closest bludger seemed to go in slow motion.
"No!" Hermione screamed as Minerva took that bludger fully on the head and fell, like a stone, from her broom.
George, bless him, did what Hermione could not and shot forward. He managed to catch Minerva under one arm and Harry, and Draco, sped to join him as the game was called off.
There was a general rumbling of annoyance from the crowd that made Hermione want to shake them all as she looked around for help. It seemed as though Poppy Pomfrey had made good on her promise to refuse to attend the "stupid spectacle" and then she realised that, as a third year apprentice at St. Mungo's, she was probably the next best thing.
"Shit," she hissed. "Lee?" She screamed already running for the stairs. "I'm going down."
Lee related the information as Harry and George and Draco managed to get her to the ground. Hermione's heart was in her mouth as she raced down the endless flights of stairs and onto the pitch.
"Don't!" She screamed at Rolanda who was about to wake her forcibly. "Leave her be," Hermione said, sliding in beside them. She swirled her wand in the air and her stomach flopped as she saw the broken cheekbone and the rapid swelling.
"Hermione -"
"Do not speak," she hissed at her best friend. "I knew this would happen. Absolutely, bloody ridiculous."
She tried to breathe through the panic, but her brain couldn't seem to figure out what to do.
"Hermione?" George said sternly. "What do we do?"
The fog cleared and Hermione burst into action. She Transfigured a stretcher and the boys lifted Minerva into it. She strode beside it as they matched up to the Hospital Wing.
"Poppy?" Harry yelled. "Poppy!"
Poppy raced from her office at Harry's call with a dark look on her face. As soon as she saw who it was, she growled in a way that made even Harry step back while Hermione transferred Minerva into a bed.
"Out," Poppy hissed.
The boys wasted no time but Hermione stood still and refused to quake under the woman's glare.
"I can help," she said before Poppy could object. "Use me."
"Fine," Poppy sniffed. "Get me a pain potion and a bruise paste and some numbing solution."
Hermione did as she was asked and took the extra moment to tie up her hair and remove her robes. Her muggle clothes were much more useful for this moment.
"Wash your hands," Madam Pomfrey said, pointing to a bowl on the table nearby. "This is bad enough we may have to take her to St Mungo's."
"She hates it there," Hermione muttered.
Poppy snapped at her that she was well aware but Hermione let it roll off her. After the war, Poppy had been less than thrilled with how cavalier everyone was being and Hermione, to a point, understood the frustration. She scrubbed her hands clean and stood by Minerva's side waiting for instruction.
"The pressure will kill her," Poppy said, a tinge of panic in her voice. Hermione leaned forward and read the information Poppy's spell was revealing and concluded the same.
"It's on her temple, right?" Hermione asked, leaning on Minerva's good side to look closer.
"Yes," Poppy nodded, pointing it out.
Hermione watched as the scan turned a deeper shade of red and pulsed angrily, before she made a decision.
"I was reading about Muggle operations during our neurology practical. In brain bleeds like this, under the skull, they remove the piece of the skull and let it swell. We could -"
"What?" Poppy almost squealed.
"Look," Hermione said, pointing. "We don't need to remove any bone. We have the positional and the magical advantage. We make an incision on her temple, draw out the excess blood, stop the bleeding if we can, then put a stasis spell over the incision to let it swell if it is going to. If not, we keep clearing the blood while the potions work. And if we need to take her to St. Mungo's after that, then we can.
Poppy stared at her and then the scan with a groan.
"Fine. You lead."
"What!?"
"Miss Granger -"
"Hermione," She corrected.
"Yes. I have not led a surgery since my thirties."
"I've never done it at all! We've barely done the practicals in the ward, let alone in the operating theatres!"
"I will talk you through it," Poppy soothed. "You are the better magic welder, you seem to know what you are doing and," she groaned. "Honestly, your hands will be steadier than mine in this instance."
Hermione stared for a moment before she remembered Minerva's life hung in the balance.
The idea, initially, had been a good one. A post-war, friendly game of Quidditch between the greats. The playbill was rather impressive; legendary chaser, Madam Rolanda Hooch. One half of the greatest beater duo Hogwarts had ever seen George Weasley and of course, the great Harry Potter - youngest Seeker in a century. The rest were made up of former students, recent and historical, but the real draw was someone else entirely. Minerva McGonagall: Headmistress of Hogwarts, Transfiguration Master, Order of Merlin (Second Class) was taking to the skies for the first time in nearly sixty years.
The rumours flowed freely.
A bet between professors.
A dare.
And more cruelly:
A last desperate attempt to cling to her youth.
Hermione Granger, however, knew better.
As usual.
As best friend to Harry Potter, organiser of this cockamamie idea, she knew exactly why Minerva McGonagall, Order of Merlin (Second Class) and stalwart Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had agreed to this foolhardy plan.
It was, really, rather simple, actually.
Harry Potter and George Weasley had turned up on Minerva's doorstep, armed with a bottle of very expensive whisky and had begged her to play. As usual, Hermione snorted to herself as she settled in her seat, Minerva was powerless to refuse her boys as Hermione had taken to calling them.
After the war, everyone had gone to ground. There was a lot of healing to be done and a lot of soul searching to be done and it was a long and sometimes dark process. Gradually though, the fighters began to emerge from their self-imposed exiles and had settled back into society. Friendships had been rebuilt, stronger and safer than ever. Harry and Hermione had never stopped talking. In fact for a long time, Hermione had lived at Grimmauld place with Harry, until they'd finished cleaning the place up and she'd decided she needed a space of her own. They'd found a nice little bungalow not too far away and she'd used a fair bit of the money she'd made from selling her parents house to buy it.
It had been exactly what she needed to finally let go of the pain she'd carried with her since their tumultuous school years. It was purely by chance that she'd met Minerva again. She quite literally bumped into her, one day, while she was wandering the bookshop in the lesser known Ilkley township. She'd taken to visiting the less-well-known wizarding villages if she needed something magical, if only to avoid the stares and the whispers that would probably follow her for the rest of her life. It turned out that Minerva had been doing the same for years.
They'd struck up a conversation right there in the stacks and had met for tea at least once a week and dinner every few weeks, since then. When Harry had come to Hermione and told her about the Quidditch match to end all Quidditch matches, Hermione had been supportive, but when Minerva had told her that she'd agreed to play, Hermione had been less so.
In actual fact, there had been a rather heated argument about age, which only Hermione could have participated in, and, more importantly, about previous injuries.
"Nonsense," Minerva had said. "It's nought but a friendly game of Quidditch. What could go wrong?"
Famous.
Last.
Words.
-0-
Hermione settled deeper into her seat. She snuggled into the collar of her coat and rolled her eyes at their timing. It wasn't particularly cold, but a fierce Scottish breeze had whipped up and it was cool enough for Hermione to want to cradle a cup of tea in her hands while she watched. The problem with that was that she'd never successfully stayed seated at a Quidditch match and she definitely did not want to throw it all over the Minister of Magic's aide, who was sitting in front of her and trying not to turn around to gawp.
Instead she bounced her knee to take her mind off the cool wind slipping down her spine and tried to ignore the niggling feeling in the back of her mind that something terrible was going to happen.
Harry had requested a professional referee from the Quidditch league to come and officiate the game so that Madam Hooch could be free to play and while she was still woolgathering, the game started.
Hermione remembered the times Madam Hooch had refereed the school games and had asked for a nice clean game. She hoped beyond hope that this would be one and to begin, as far as Hermione could tell, it was.
The problem with 2 teams made up of mostly Gryffindors and Slytherins and all of them Quidditch nuts, it did not take long for everybody's competitive side to appear. Hermione was hiding behind her hands to avoid the heart palpitations that came with her nearest and dearest dodging bludgers and beater's bats and flying in the most horrendously impressive way she'd ever seen. She winced with the rest of the crowd as George sent a bludger flying directly at Oliver Wood's face and laughed when Oliver rolled on his broom and came up with a look on his face that spelled trouble. George made a face that Hermione couldn't help but laugh at and the game carried on.
After a little back and forth, the quaffle was plucked from the air by none other than Minerva McGonagall. She did a most impressive shimmy to avoid Rolanda's outstretched hand and then rolled like Oliver had to avoid a bludger aimed at her, only to cockily throw the quaffle through the hoop.
"What did I tell you Ladies and Gentlemen, Minerva McGonagall is a flyer ."
She chuckled despite her worry as Lee continued to wax lyrically about their friend. She had missed his joyous commentary and it almost felt like old times as the game continued. Harry and, yes of all people, Draco Malfoy were elbow to elbow above the game, watching eagle-eyed for the snitch. A cheer went up as Oliver saved a shot from Minerva and Rolanda scooped up the ball with a cackle that the crowd heard clearly.
It was so tense and then -
"Potter dives!"
She watched, heart in mouth as Harry shot down through the players. She stood to follow his path but a well-timed bludger from the Wimbourne Wasps professional beater, a former student from years before, made him swerve off to the side and he thumped his broomstick in frustration. The game, however, was devolving before her eyes. George and his beating partner were losing control of themselves and so the other pair retaliated until the bludgers were flying thick and fast.
Hermione remained on her feet as Minerva took both hands off her broom and plucked the quaffle from the air and swung, again, under her broom to avoid a meaty arm from another ex-student she couldn't name. She dived under the other two opposition players who only just managed to avoid colliding with each other and sped off from the closest defender. Hermione could clearly see why Rolanda had been excited to learn she would be playing. Lee went wild and Hermione was screaming along with everyone else as Minerva took on the entire team with the Quaffle under her arm.
It was why the opposition beater swinging wildly at the closest bludger seemed to go in slow motion.
"No!" Hermione screamed as Minerva took that bludger fully on the head and fell, like a stone, from her broom.
George, bless him, did what Hermione could not and shot forward. He managed to catch Minerva under one arm and Harry, and Draco, sped to join him as the game was called off.
There was a general rumbling of annoyance from the crowd that made Hermione want to shake them all as she looked around for help. It seemed as though Poppy Pomfrey had made good on her promise to refuse to attend the "stupid spectacle" and then she realised that, as a third year apprentice at St. Mungo's, she was probably the next best thing.
"Shit," she hissed. "Lee?" She screamed already running for the stairs. "I'm going down."
Lee related the information as Harry and George and Draco managed to get her to the ground. Hermione's heart was in her mouth as she raced down the endless flights of stairs and onto the pitch.
"Don't!" She screamed at Rolanda who was about to wake her forcibly. "Leave her be," Hermione said, sliding in beside them. She swirled her wand in the air and her stomach flopped as she saw the broken cheekbone and the rapid swelling.
"Hermione -"
"Do not speak," she hissed at her best friend. "I knew this would happen. Absolutely, bloody ridiculous."
She tried to breathe through the panic, but her brain couldn't seem to figure out what to do.
"Hermione?" George said sternly. "What do we do?"
The fog cleared and Hermione burst into action. She Transfigured a stretcher and the boys lifted Minerva into it. She strode beside it as they matched up to the Hospital Wing.
"Poppy?" Harry yelled. "Poppy!"
Poppy raced from her office at Harry's call with a dark look on her face. As soon as she saw who it was, she growled in a way that made even Harry step back while Hermione transferred Minerva into a bed.
"Out," Poppy hissed.
The boys wasted no time but Hermione stood still and refused to quake under the woman's glare.
"I can help," she said before Poppy could object. "Use me."
"Fine," Poppy sniffed. "Get me a pain potion and a bruise paste and some numbing solution."
Hermione did as she was asked and took the extra moment to tie up her hair and remove her robes. Her muggle clothes were much more useful for this moment.
"Wash your hands," Madam Pomfrey said, pointing to a bowl on the table nearby. "This is bad enough we may have to take her to St Mungo's."
"She hates it there," Hermione muttered.
Poppy snapped at her that she was well aware but Hermione let it roll off her. After the war, Poppy had been less than thrilled with how cavalier everyone was being and Hermione, to a point, understood the frustration. She scrubbed her hands clean and stood by Minerva's side waiting for instruction.
"The pressure will kill her," Poppy said, a tinge of panic in her voice. Hermione leaned forward and read the information Poppy's spell was revealing and concluded the same.
"It's on her temple, right?" Hermione asked, leaning on Minerva's good side to look closer.
"Yes," Poppy nodded, pointing it out.
Hermione watched as the scan turned a deeper shade of red and pulsed angrily, before she made a decision.
"I was reading about Muggle operations during our neurology practical. In brain bleeds like this, under the skull, they remove the piece of the skull and let it swell. We could -"
"What?" Poppy almost squealed.
"Look," Hermione said, pointing. "We don't need to remove any bone. We have the positional and the magical advantage. We make an incision on her temple, draw out the excess blood, stop the bleeding if we can, then put a stasis spell over the incision to let it swell if it is going to. If not, we keep clearing the blood while the potions work. And if we need to take her to St. Mungo's after that, then we can.
Poppy stared at her and then the scan with a groan.
"Fine. You lead."
"What!?"
"Miss Granger -"
"Hermione," She corrected.
"Yes. I have not led a surgery since my thirties."
"I've never done it at all! We've barely done the practicals in the ward, let alone in the operating theatres!"
"I will talk you through it," Poppy soothed. "You are the better magic welder, you seem to know what you are doing and," she groaned. "Honestly, your hands will be steadier than mine in this instance."
Hermione stared for a moment before she remembered Minerva's life hung in the balance.
"Fine," she whispered. "Is it better to use magic to cut the dermis? Or a blade?"
"Depends what you are more comfortable with," Poppy muttered, summoning things left, right and center. "I have used both."
"Blade then," Hermione muttered. "I do not have a good hold on my magic, right now."
The next three hours passed quietly, but efficiently. Hermione helped Poppy ready herself and was in turn helped into a gown. They bent over their patient and cut and cleaned and eventually, Hermione sealed the open wound with a spell and watched as the blood eventually ebbed to a few drops every now and then as the swelling peaked.
Poppy groaned and pulled off her mask, squeezing Hermione's arm.
"You should be proud of yourself," Poppy muttered. "That was exceptional work. Don't think I won't pass on my feedback to your supervisor."
"Thank you," she muttered, her eyes fixed on Minerva's face. "Do you think we -"
"We won't know until she wakes and/or something else happens. Whenever that happens," Poppy shrugged. "Though it is anyone's guess as to when that will be."
Hermione pulled off the gown and banished it. She rubbed her face on her arm and got to cleaning up. Once it was mostly back to normal, Poppy mentioned she would be back and Hermione dropped into a seat beside the bed and sighed.
"You're a nutter, Minerva McGonagall," she whispered, brushing away some of the hair that had fallen from her bun. "But you cannot leave us now. Not when we're just beginning again."
Hermione slid her hand into Minerva's, entwining their fingers together with another sigh. The waiting game would be the worst, but Hermione would stay until Minerva was well again.