A Gift for Shanone: The time is ours (Hermione/McGonagall)
Author: flipflop-diva
Recipient: shanone
Title: This Time Is Ours
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Minerva McGonagall
Rating: T
Word Count: 900
Summary: Hermione and Minerva have a secret. But it’s about time they reveal it to the world.
Author's Notes: Thank you to the mods for running this fest and for being so patient with me! Thank you to A for the super quick and amazing beta job. And to Shanone, happy holidays! I hope you enjoy!
The halls were crowded and noisy, the sounds of laughter and excited chatter filling the air. Just two more hours before classes ended early for the day and the students were excused to go get ready for the Annual Holiday Gala.
It made Hermione smile as she maneuvered through the throngs of students, so many of them discussing hair styles and dresses and what shoes they should wear. Even though her own Yule Ball when she was a Hogwarts student hadn’t been her finest memory, it was one she had thought all the students should get to experience, and every year she was so thankful the headmistress had agreed with her when she suggested it during her very first year of teaching.
The thought of the headmistress had Hermione smiling even more. They had finally decided that tonight was the right time, and she was ready. More ready than she had possibly thought she could be.
A voice in the distance caught her attention as she walked, and she had to fight with herself to keep her smile from transforming into a full grin as she turned the corner and the object of her thoughts appeared just a few feet away, walking crisply and quickly toward her, a look of annoyance on her face as she dodged a group of sixth year girls who were not paying attention to their surroundings.
“Headmistress,” Hermione greeted her as they drew close. She dropped her head in a respectful nod.
Minerva barely glanced at her. “Professor Granger,” she said, her voice as sharp as it always was during this time of day.
“Are we still on for our four o’clock appointment?” Hermione asked. Minerva didn’t even slow as she passed her.
“In my office, Professor Granger,” she called back over her shoulder as she disappeared around the corner Hermione had just come from. “Do not be late!”
A couple students glanced over at Hermione at the headmistress’ words, and Hermione knew they were wondering if she had done something wrong. Hermione didn’t dare answer out loud, but to herself, as she kept walking toward her own class, she thought, “I wouldn’t dare.”
--
At exactly one minute to four, Hermione lifted her hand to knock on the headmistress’ door. She took the next sixty seconds - she knew Minerva wouldn’t open it until exactly four - to smooth out the invisible wrinkles in her black velvet robes with the red ribbons around the wrists and the collar.
As expected, at exactly four o’clock, the door swung open, and Hermione stepped inside.
“Professor Granger,” came Minerva’s voice, but it wasn’t the stern one the students were so familiar with. Instead, it was low and husky and just for her.
Hermione shivered slightly before stepping even further into the room and pressing herself into Minerva, their lips coming together with tender, sweet touches.
“Hi,” Hermione breathed into Minerva’s lips after they pulled apart.
“Happy anniversary, my love,” Minerva said, her tone gentle, and Hermione smiled as the familiar warmth rushed through her body. She eyed the couch that was in the headmistress’ office, the one that had been used many times in activities that had caused the room’s former occupants in the portraits to turn away in horror.
“Four years,” Hermione said. “Since you asked me to dance after everyone else had gone off to bed.”
Minerva’s hand had come up and was brushing back a stray curl. “How could I resist?” she said. “You looked so beautiful.”
“I was magicking away crumbs and spilled drinks,” Hermione laughed.
“And you looked beautiful doing it.” Minerva kissed her again.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe you chose me,” Hermione said.
Minerva smiled, the smile she always got when she was looking just at Hermione, and Hermione couldn’t help but be reminded how very lucky she was to have found this person and this job that were both so perfect for her.
“We chose each other, Professor Granger.”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “That we did.”
She wanted to say more, maybe profess her love here on this special night, but a chime somewhere behind Minerva’s desk sounded, and both women sighed. Immediately, Hermione felt her stomach start doing flipflops.
She looked at Minerva, trying to see if she looked at all unsure or nervous. But she looked as steady as she always did.
“Are you ready to do this?” Hermione asked, almost tentatively, even though they had been talking about this for months.
“Are you?” Minerva returned, and Hermione founded herself nodding.
“More than ready,” she said, and to emphasize her point, she reached up and undid the buttons on her cloak, letting it drop to the floor, revealing the red evening dress she had underneath, the one that fit her like a glove.
She saw Minerva take in a breath, her eyes widening just a touch, but then she too was undoing a button and letting her cloak fall away. Hermione stared at her, her own breath caught in her throat, as she looked at Minerva in her long green dress that flowed out behind her. Already, Hermione’s mind was conjuring images of it lying on the floor beside their bed later tonight.
But first, they had something to do.
As if reading her mind - and maybe she was - Minerva held out a hand and, without hesitation, Hermione took it, their fingers curling together like they belonged that way.
Minerva waved her wand, held gently in her other hand, and the door swung open, and for the first time, they stepped out together, hand in hand, finally ready to show the students, the other professors, and the world just how much they meant to each other.
Ready to show the world they belonged together.
She could already hear the excited whispers and see the expressions on everyone’s faces, and the thought made her giddy.
This was going to be a night to remember, and she could hardly wait to get started.
Recipient: shanone
Title: This Time Is Ours
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Minerva McGonagall
Rating: T
Word Count: 900
Summary: Hermione and Minerva have a secret. But it’s about time they reveal it to the world.
Author's Notes: Thank you to the mods for running this fest and for being so patient with me! Thank you to A for the super quick and amazing beta job. And to Shanone, happy holidays! I hope you enjoy!
The halls were crowded and noisy, the sounds of laughter and excited chatter filling the air. Just two more hours before classes ended early for the day and the students were excused to go get ready for the Annual Holiday Gala.
It made Hermione smile as she maneuvered through the throngs of students, so many of them discussing hair styles and dresses and what shoes they should wear. Even though her own Yule Ball when she was a Hogwarts student hadn’t been her finest memory, it was one she had thought all the students should get to experience, and every year she was so thankful the headmistress had agreed with her when she suggested it during her very first year of teaching.
The thought of the headmistress had Hermione smiling even more. They had finally decided that tonight was the right time, and she was ready. More ready than she had possibly thought she could be.
A voice in the distance caught her attention as she walked, and she had to fight with herself to keep her smile from transforming into a full grin as she turned the corner and the object of her thoughts appeared just a few feet away, walking crisply and quickly toward her, a look of annoyance on her face as she dodged a group of sixth year girls who were not paying attention to their surroundings.
“Headmistress,” Hermione greeted her as they drew close. She dropped her head in a respectful nod.
Minerva barely glanced at her. “Professor Granger,” she said, her voice as sharp as it always was during this time of day.
“Are we still on for our four o’clock appointment?” Hermione asked. Minerva didn’t even slow as she passed her.
“In my office, Professor Granger,” she called back over her shoulder as she disappeared around the corner Hermione had just come from. “Do not be late!”
A couple students glanced over at Hermione at the headmistress’ words, and Hermione knew they were wondering if she had done something wrong. Hermione didn’t dare answer out loud, but to herself, as she kept walking toward her own class, she thought, “I wouldn’t dare.”
--
At exactly one minute to four, Hermione lifted her hand to knock on the headmistress’ door. She took the next sixty seconds - she knew Minerva wouldn’t open it until exactly four - to smooth out the invisible wrinkles in her black velvet robes with the red ribbons around the wrists and the collar.
As expected, at exactly four o’clock, the door swung open, and Hermione stepped inside.
“Professor Granger,” came Minerva’s voice, but it wasn’t the stern one the students were so familiar with. Instead, it was low and husky and just for her.
Hermione shivered slightly before stepping even further into the room and pressing herself into Minerva, their lips coming together with tender, sweet touches.
“Hi,” Hermione breathed into Minerva’s lips after they pulled apart.
“Happy anniversary, my love,” Minerva said, her tone gentle, and Hermione smiled as the familiar warmth rushed through her body. She eyed the couch that was in the headmistress’ office, the one that had been used many times in activities that had caused the room’s former occupants in the portraits to turn away in horror.
“Four years,” Hermione said. “Since you asked me to dance after everyone else had gone off to bed.”
Minerva’s hand had come up and was brushing back a stray curl. “How could I resist?” she said. “You looked so beautiful.”
“I was magicking away crumbs and spilled drinks,” Hermione laughed.
“And you looked beautiful doing it.” Minerva kissed her again.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe you chose me,” Hermione said.
Minerva smiled, the smile she always got when she was looking just at Hermione, and Hermione couldn’t help but be reminded how very lucky she was to have found this person and this job that were both so perfect for her.
“We chose each other, Professor Granger.”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “That we did.”
She wanted to say more, maybe profess her love here on this special night, but a chime somewhere behind Minerva’s desk sounded, and both women sighed. Immediately, Hermione felt her stomach start doing flipflops.
She looked at Minerva, trying to see if she looked at all unsure or nervous. But she looked as steady as she always did.
“Are you ready to do this?” Hermione asked, almost tentatively, even though they had been talking about this for months.
“Are you?” Minerva returned, and Hermione founded herself nodding.
“More than ready,” she said, and to emphasize her point, she reached up and undid the buttons on her cloak, letting it drop to the floor, revealing the red evening dress she had underneath, the one that fit her like a glove.
She saw Minerva take in a breath, her eyes widening just a touch, but then she too was undoing a button and letting her cloak fall away. Hermione stared at her, her own breath caught in her throat, as she looked at Minerva in her long green dress that flowed out behind her. Already, Hermione’s mind was conjuring images of it lying on the floor beside their bed later tonight.
But first, they had something to do.
As if reading her mind - and maybe she was - Minerva held out a hand and, without hesitation, Hermione took it, their fingers curling together like they belonged that way.
Minerva waved her wand, held gently in her other hand, and the door swung open, and for the first time, they stepped out together, hand in hand, finally ready to show the students, the other professors, and the world just how much they meant to each other.
Ready to show the world they belonged together.
She could already hear the excited whispers and see the expressions on everyone’s faces, and the thought made her giddy.
This was going to be a night to remember, and she could hardly wait to get started.