Title: And I Wonder If You Think Of Me

Fandom: Harry Potter. Post Hogwarts.

Rating: M

Pairing: Minerva McGonagall / Hermione Granger

Summary: Hermione has surprised nobody by accepting the recently vacated position of Charms teacher at Hogwarts. What she hasn't told anyone, or even really reconciled herself with, is that part of the reason is a certain ebony haired, Scottish witch. What she decides to do about it, is anyone's guess…

Hermione Granger, Professor Granger for precisely one week, bit her lip as she surveyed herself in her bathroom mirror. At 21 she was young for a teacher, but, in testament to her vast abilities, no one was surprised that she was offered the Charms position when Professor Flitwick decided it was about time he spent more time at home with his wife in quiet retirement. And probably a certain amount of the bedroom fandango, the more ripe senses of humour in the staff room chortled. Flitwick, who had heard some of the innuendo, had smiled good-humouredly, although his ears had gone a shade pink, further fueling the less charitable speculation for his departure. Nonetheless, the diminutive professor had gone on his way with a very nice leaving present indeed, and several hearty slaps on his back along with an enormous 'L' plate, the meaning of which mystified him.

The very next day, a beautiful tawny owl had fluttered against Hermione's flat window in the urban sprawl of one of London's many suburbs, the writing on the parchment revealing itself to be none other than Headmistress McGonagall's, the object of Hermione's nightly fantasies for the last 5 years. She didn't even have to think about accepting the offer of Charms Professor, which was actually a very senior teaching post, the over riding thought in her mind being that she could see Minerva. After graduating from Hogwarts, Hermione found herself somewhat without purpose. The war against Voldemort had escalated in intensity year on year until it had even overtaken schooling. Take away that purpose in life, and somewhat paradoxically, there was a vacuum. She had thought that studying would show her the way, give her life purpose, take her on a good career. She had discovered that, yes she accumulated knowledge, but it didn't give her the answers her heart desired. A fruitless spell in a minor ministry office had given her plenty of time to reflect ruefully on what exactly her heart did desire. That desire was Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Just thinking of the older witch made Hermione close her eyes in the coolness of her bathroom and exhale sharply. Her pulse jumped as she imagined herself in the intoxicating proximity of the other woman, her hair falling loose from its bun in waves as black as midnight, wafting a faint scent of sandalwood, her emerald eyes narrowing as she returned Hermione's heated gaze. A bewitching smile danced upon the lips of the older witch as she stepped closer, enjoying the power she held over the younger woman, bending her head slightly she grazed her lips along Hermione's cheek up to her ear, whispering heatedly.

"I want you. Now."

Hermione groaned as her eyes flew open. She felt hot all over, her very core throbbed in rhythm with her pulse and the moisture pooling between her thighs left her in no doubt whatsoever of the effect the older witch had on her. Flustered, Hermione ran a hand through her chestnut curls and hoped like hell that no one would be able to tell of her inner turmoil as she left her rooms for breakfast.

Hermione hurried into the Great Hall and made her way along the teachers table, sinking into a seat next to Madam Hooch and Professor Sinistra. She glanced quickly along the table and her heart leapt as she saw the Headmistress deep in conversation with Professor Sprout. As Hermione observed the older witch from beneath lowered eyelashes, the Headmistress turned around, looking directly at her. Something about the quirk of her smile told Hermione that her covert observation had been rumbled. Blushing, Hermione picked up her cup of tea and quickly took a mouthful of the scalding liquid.

A throaty chuckle to one side made her start, and she looked around into the yellow eyes of the sports mistress and flight instructor, Madam Hooch.

As Hermione watched, Hooch sent a thoroughly indecent wink towards the headmistress, who glared back at the spiky haired witch, mouth pursed.

Hermione frostily ignored the smirk Hooch sent her way, who was delighting in the result she had provoked.

"Sooooo," Hooch drawled, as she poured a fresh cup of tea. "When did it start, and if it hasn't, when is it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione snapped.

"Tetchy, tetchy," Hooch tutted mockingly. "Sounds like some serious sexual tension going on there…"

"Excuse me!" Hermione stood up abruptly, suddenly desperate to leave the infuriating flight instructor. She also had a nasty feeling that Hooch either liked the headmistress herself or that there was a history there. Dammit….was that jealousy? As she turned to leave the high table, Hermione glanced at the headmistress who had one fine eyebrow arched at the younger professor. Flushing, Hermione muttered a quick "excuse me", and hurried out of the hall.

Back in the Great Hall, Madam Hooch walked casually towards the headmistress, slipping into the seat recently vacated by Professor Sprout.

"Someone was in a hurry," Madam Hooch observed, sipping her tea and casting a narrowed yellow gaze upon the older woman.

Minerva McGonagall shook her head slightly, the severe bun shining in the light of the candles.

"Have you spoken to her since she started?" Hooch buttered a slice of toast with studied disinterest.

"A couple of times obviously, to acquaint her with her teaching timetable and basic rules for staff. Any Charms-specific information would be from Flitwick, as you well know."

"Nothing else?"

Professor McGonagall's emerald gaze settled upon Madam Hooch, suddenly suspicious.

"Why the sudden interest, Rolanda?"

"Nothing, nothing!" The spiky haired witch grinned, an entirely unconvincing look of innocence settling upon her pointed features.

Professor McGonagall sighed, a sudden realization dawning.

"No." She said warningly.

"I don't know what you mean, Minerva." Yellow eyes widened in mock surprise.

"You don't even know…" the older woman hissed, looking furtively behind her and attracting the attention of a grumpy and bored Severus Snape. He gave her a pointed stare, before curling his lip in utter disdain. She shot him a warning look before turning back to a grinning flight instructor.

"I don't have to," Rolanda Hooch whispered back. "The RoHo gaydar never lies!"

"The what?" Professor McGonagall echoed, aghast, hoping against hope she had misheard.

Madam Hooch smiled mischievously. "Plus," she continued with entirely too much enjoyment for Professor McGonagall's liking, "I saw the way she looked at you."

Professor McGonagall blinked. She glanced down at her tea, before looking back up at her colleague.

"Nonsense." She snapped.

"I swear to Merlin," Hooch whispered, leaning closer for privacy. "The way she was looking at you, like there was no one else in the room. She's got it bad!"

Professor McGonagall stiffened. "I'm 60 years older Hooch. Pull yourself together."

"Weeeeeell, if you won't, I'll have a crack!" She winked at the headmistress. "Best looking girl that's been here for a while." She leaned down to the older woman as she buttoned up her leather robe. "I'll be over at midnight as usual," she breathed into the headmistresses ear.

Minerva McGonagall stiffened imperceptibly before giving a curt nod.

"You know you love it really," Hooch murmured as she passed. Emerald eyes narrowed as she bounced out of the hall.

Two bodies, consumed by want, crash together. Hungry lips seek out the other, trails of fire across heated skin, hands seeking, exploring, stroking. Breath mingling with breath, murmurs of desire lost in the empty room, passion heightening. Fingers rake through ebony tresses, emerald eyes glitter in the moonlight pouring through the window, the lean body arches and convulses in ecstasy.

Rolanda Hooch turned towards her bedmate.

"Seriously Min, you need to find out about Hermione."

"Stop it," Minerva McGonagall said grumpily.

Not for the first time, Hooch marveled at the difference in the headmistress in her personal life. Minerva McGonagall the headmistress, was a tall, elegantly austere woman, very proper and refined. Stern, but kind and compassionate, yet gave the impression of having been quietly dried out on the stove of education.

By startling contrast, Minerva McGonagall the woman, was a deeply passionate, sensual, sexual creature, loyal, possessive and prone to jealousy, but would fight to the bitter end for a loved one. If Minerva was your partner she made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

Hooch blinked back a tear as she remembered that her and Minerva were not partners, but…..each others release. Two women, together, at a point in time, with their bodies crying out for the same need. No words, just actions, their bodies speaking the same language.

"Rolanda?" Minerva's voice brought her back to the present.

"Sorry, must have drifted off for a minute there," the flight instructor muttered.

"Are you alright, Rolanda?" The older woman's voice was full of concern as she rested a hand on Hooch's bare shoulder.

"I just…" she began, before lapsing into silence. Our chance was years ago….no going back now… "It doesn't matter," she said with finality. She forced a smile to her lips, pecking Minerva on the lips and standing up quickly so the older woman couldn't see the emotions betraying her on her face. Minerva didn't look convinced, her piercing green eyes following Hooch as she gathered her clothes.

"I'll see you in the morning," Hooch smiled softly as she let herself out of the headmistresses chambers.

After Hooch left the headmistress flopped back against her pillows and bit her lip as she rolled over to stare out of the leaded window illuminating the room with silvery moonlight. The flight instructor's words replayed through her mind.

"…you need to find out about Hermione…"

The headmistress quietly fumed. Why should Hermione interest her? Just because, according to Hooch (who was the biggest flirt and shameless serial dater going) she might be gay? Even if she was, why should she be interested in her, Minerva? For that matter, it didn't mean she fancied Hermione…

Oh but you do…you like her a lot…intelligence turns you on…it always has. Hermione has that by the bucket-load…she's the only one who can keep up with you in a debate…how sexy is that? And now she is back at Hogwarts, you can see how sexy she is…those curves should be made illegal…

The normally staid headmistress couldn't help herself. A hand snaked down her toned stomach, touching those parts of herself where she fantasised Hermione's fingers were. Soft, deft strokes, with increasing intensity as her other hand pinching and stroking her breasts. Breath ragged and perspiration beading on her body, Minerva arched against the sheets as a lustful moan tore from her throat.

Hooch was right. She needed to find out about Hermione.

Comments would be greatly appreciated!