Fandom Harry Potter
Characters: Hermione Granger/Minerva McGonagall
Summary/Teaser: Sometimes it's the only thing that can warm you.
Warnings:
Spoilers: --
Notes: Originally written for Fireworks: The Fourth of July Femslash Porn Battle (wisdomeagle's prompt: Harry Potter, Hermione/McGonagall, heat)
Title from "both hands" by ani difranco.
Word Count: 498

Standard Disclaimer: No harm intended; no profit made. J. K. Rowling and co. own the characters, I'm just playing with them. I do, however, own this story, so don't steal it. Archive it anywhere; just ask first.

Feedback is always appreciated. Make me blush with praise or rip apart the story with criticism, or both.


the story of how hard we tried
by Elizabeth Scripturient

Hermione sat at the table, holding her mug of tea.

All she had said to McGonagall was, "I'll never be warm again."

The War had been going on -- well, she couldn't say how long exactly, as it was never clear to her when it had officially started, but too long for her to be feeling queasy about casualties. But this was the first time she had ever seen anyone die in front of her.

It was one of the Beauxbatons girls, one whose name she didn't know. And she had just fallen in front of her. Felled by an Unforgivable Curse. (Though Hermione wasn't sure how Unforgivable they could be if her side was using them, too. But she wasn't thinking about that right now. She was thinking about how cold the girl's face looked. How pale she was, how the snow didn't melt when it hit her face.)

"It helps if you drink it," McGonagall said gently.

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, realizing that she had been very impolitely ignoring her host. She quickly took a gulp and nodded vigorously as if to say she liked it, though in fact it had barely touched her tongue on its way down.

"It's medicinal. It will help calm you."

"Oh," Hermione said, and took another, slower, sip.

She could feel warmth welling up from the pit of her stomach and managed a small smile.

"That's better," McGonagall said. "Now let's get you out of those damp clothes."

Hermione looked up in surprise.

"You heard me." McGonagall got up from her place at the table and lifted Hermione's heavy cloak from her shoulders. Hermione stood, unsteadily, to allow her to take it off. She was still standing there when McGonagall came back from the coat closet. McGonagall gently unfastened her robes, letting them fall onto the chair behind her. She took Hermione by the hand and led her to the side of the room where the fire burned brightly. Hermione sat down on the thick red rug obediently. McGonagall slowly unfastened the buttons of Hermione's blouse. Hermione closed her eyes and let McGonagall ease her backwards after she had taken off her bra.

McGonagall leaned down and kissed her gently, kissed each scar and bruise (magical and otherwise), starting at her neck and working her way down. Hermione could feel herself relaxing.

McGonagall slid her out of her trousers, and Hermione remembered it had been months since she had last shaved, but McGonagall just stroked her legs as if it were perfectly natural -- which Hermione supposed it was.

McGonagall took off her knickers as well, and at first it was just her fingers soothing her flesh, but then her mouth was on her, and it felt so good. Her movements grew faster and stronger, and when Hermione came she was crying and for one moment she was terrified that McGonagall would think she had hated it, but then McGonagall was lying next to her, stroking her hair, and she was still crying but she could breathe again.


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