Post by dianahawthorne on Jul 12, 2009 23:31:34 GMT -5
EDGE OF SEVENTEEN
***
I don't own anything. Title is taken from the Stevie Nicks song of the same name.
***
Seventeen was far too young to woo a woman, especially when the woman in question is fifty-three. But then, Remus Lupin was never an ordinary boy. And Minerva McGonagall was not an ordinary woman.
***
At seventeen Remus Lupin had just graduated from Hogwarts, armed with knowledge and ready to face the real world – yet reluctant to do so. Perhaps it was because, as a werewolf, he had only found acceptance within the walls of the castle. Or perhaps it was because the woman he loved resided within those walls.
***
The dark haired woman wandered aimlessly through the corridors, mournful. She always hated the end of the school year, hated having to stay in the empty castle all summer. But this year, she felt the loss far more acutely, though she would never admit it. She would miss him desperately.
In an attempt to shake away the loneliness that had settled upon her, she walked down to Hogsmeade. She did not stop to ask any of the few teachers remaining if they wished to join her – she was not up to conversations about summer plans, which would no doubt make her lonelier. And so, alone, she walked down to Hogsmeade.
She passed over the Hog’s Head for the Three Broomsticks, which had a far cheerier atmosphere, not to mention clean glasses, but as she pushed her way through the crush of people congregated around the entrance, she wondered if the Hog’s Head might not have been a better choice. As she finally broke through the crowd, she scanned the room for a free seat. The only one she could find was at Remus Lupin’s table.
‘Hello, Remus,’ she said. He looked up from the mug of butterbeer he’d been nursing.
‘Hello, Professor,’ he said, his heart beating faster. He gestured for her to take a seat, which she did gracefully.
‘Call me Minerva,’ she urged, her own heart also beating faster as she looked into his amber-coloured eyes. ‘After all, you’re no longer my student.’
He nodded as Rosmerta came to take her drink order.
‘Why aren’t you celebrating with your friends?’ she asked him when her gillywater had arrived.
He shrugged. ‘I felt like being alone,’ he said.
‘Oh, I’m very sorry,’ she replied, standing up. ‘I can leave.’
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, surprising them both.
‘Please stay... Minerva,’ he said, and she did.
***
Several hours and several drinks later, they swayed up the walk to Hogwarts. She was giggling despite herself, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders despite her effort to hold onto the image of the strict teacher, an image that was now rapidly slipping through her inebriated fingers. Though he was slightly less drunk, he laughed along with her, supporting her weight as they walked up the castle stairs.
‘Shh,’ she whispered, still giggling quietly as they entered the castle. He obliged her, following her further into the Entrance Hall.
When they reached the stairs, he paused, and she turned to look at him. Suddenly they were both sober as he placed a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Shall I walk you up?’ he asked in a soft voice.
She nodded, allowing his hand to move from her arm to around her waist as they climbed the stairs to her rooms.
Nervousness seemed to hold Minerva McGonagall in its grasp when they reached the portrait that guarded her chambers. She murmured the password, odi et amo, and the portrait swung open. Unusually for her whose movements always seemed to exude grace, she tripped as she stepped through the portrait hole. Fortunately for her, he caught her before she could injure herself. The portrait closed noiselessly behind them, and he could wait no longer, taking her face in his hands and kissing her as she moaned in surprise.
He’d kissed girls before, of course, though he was inexperienced in all other aspects of love, but kissing Minerva was... different. Yes, she was much older than the girls he had kissed, and certainly more experienced, but despite her age he felt himself become more aroused than he ever had before.
He was strong, and he had seen enough Muggle romance movies to know that sweeping a woman off her feet was a romantic gesture. And so, lifting her easily, he carried her to her bedroom.
‘We can’t – we shouldn’t –’ she murmured as he laid her gently on the bed, her protestations belied as she wrapped her arms around him. ‘Oh, we shouldn’t...’
He silenced her with a kiss, beginning to unbutton her robes.
She was wearing white, lacy underwear, her pale skin only enhanced by the whiteness of her lingerie. He sucked in his breath at the sight of her nearly nude body. He knew he would never forget the sight of her in this moment.
‘Merlin, you’re beautiful,’ he said softly.
She smiled gently. She knew he was telling the truth, knew that he was being honest even if his erection had not been pressed firmly against her abdomen. She knew he was telling the truth – because she felt the same way.
***
Remus regarded her body with hungry eyes. At fifty-three Minerva McGonagall’s figure was just as magnificent as it had been twenty years prior. Her waist was still slender as a willow, her breasts were well-shaped and firm, her legs long and lissom. And oh, how he wanted her! The restraint of his trousers on his achingly hard erection was now too much to bear. He quickly shed his clothes and rejoined her on the bed.
***
To Minerva McGonagall, he was Adonis-like in his splendour. He was so perfectly shaped, so handsome, so young... oh, she couldn’t bear it! Her heart seemed on fire, and she would have willingly torn her heart from her breast in that moment if it would dull the pain.
What was she doing? How could she let a seventeen-year-old boy kiss her, undress her, caress her like this? It was illegal, it was immoral, it was wrong. But it had been so long since anyone had touched her like this, and so long since anyone had told her she was beautiful...
***
He ran his hands, then lips, along every contour of her body, worshipping, loving each part of her. She could do nothing but moan, tangling her fingers in his hair, crying out when he reached a particularly sensitive spot.
‘Minerva,’ he sighed when he finally, finally entered her. He felt... complete, somehow, with this woman in his arms. For the first time, he felt... whole.
***
‘Oh!’ she cried out in surprise when he gently spread her legs. She had never felt anything like this before, never felt anything as... divine as his cock buried deep within her, his lips caressing her neck, his voice murmuring her name...
She succumbed to the waves of passion that had built up within her, allowing them to wash over her. Her eyes closed and her hands gripped the bedclothes spasmodically as he yelled out her name and released into her.
***
She slept, and dreamed of Remus.
***
While she slumbered, he studied her closely. Yes, she was beautiful and passionate, but was that all that attracted him to her? Was there something else?
She stirred slightly, adjusting her head on her pillow, her hair falling in waves about her face. In that moment, she looked for all the world like Helen of Troy, with her proud Roman profile and dark, dark hair.
Beauty made men do silly things, and Remus Lupin was not certainly not immune to aesthetic splendour. But why her? Why not one of the many beautiful girls his own age?
They did not have the wisdom, the experience, the passion that Minerva McGonagall had. Nor did they have that peculiar beauty present in her features. Despite her strong, proud profile, there was a delicacy, a fragility present in her eyes. There were hints of sadness and loneliness. And it seemed that she loved him – but perhaps that was wishful thinking.
***
In years to come, he would hold this memory close to heart. He had known before they had made love that he loved her, but now he was certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He loved her more than anything...
***
She woke, and saw the world with new eyes. The future seemed brighter, happier, more complete.
He was there still, watching her closely, and she smiled at him. He smiled back, kissing her lips lightly.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, tentatively raising one hand to his cheek. ‘Thank you.’
He took her hand in his and kissed her palm.
‘I love you,’ he said, and she beamed.
‘Really?’
He nodded, pressing another kiss to her hand. ‘I’ve known that for quite some time now, but I never thought anything would become of it.’
She smiled again. It had been a long time since she had fallen in love with him – too long. But she had, and there was nothing to be done about it. At least he loved her too. He loved her too!
He stroked her hair tenderly as she moved closer to him.
‘Where will we go from here?’ he could not help but ask her.
She sighed. ‘I don’t know. But don’t let’s talk about it now – let’s just be.’
He kissed her once more, softly, as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.
Right now, the rest of the world did not exist. Right now, they had each other, and that was all that mattered.
***
I don't own anything. Title is taken from the Stevie Nicks song of the same name.
***
Seventeen was far too young to woo a woman, especially when the woman in question is fifty-three. But then, Remus Lupin was never an ordinary boy. And Minerva McGonagall was not an ordinary woman.
***
At seventeen Remus Lupin had just graduated from Hogwarts, armed with knowledge and ready to face the real world – yet reluctant to do so. Perhaps it was because, as a werewolf, he had only found acceptance within the walls of the castle. Or perhaps it was because the woman he loved resided within those walls.
***
The dark haired woman wandered aimlessly through the corridors, mournful. She always hated the end of the school year, hated having to stay in the empty castle all summer. But this year, she felt the loss far more acutely, though she would never admit it. She would miss him desperately.
In an attempt to shake away the loneliness that had settled upon her, she walked down to Hogsmeade. She did not stop to ask any of the few teachers remaining if they wished to join her – she was not up to conversations about summer plans, which would no doubt make her lonelier. And so, alone, she walked down to Hogsmeade.
She passed over the Hog’s Head for the Three Broomsticks, which had a far cheerier atmosphere, not to mention clean glasses, but as she pushed her way through the crush of people congregated around the entrance, she wondered if the Hog’s Head might not have been a better choice. As she finally broke through the crowd, she scanned the room for a free seat. The only one she could find was at Remus Lupin’s table.
‘Hello, Remus,’ she said. He looked up from the mug of butterbeer he’d been nursing.
‘Hello, Professor,’ he said, his heart beating faster. He gestured for her to take a seat, which she did gracefully.
‘Call me Minerva,’ she urged, her own heart also beating faster as she looked into his amber-coloured eyes. ‘After all, you’re no longer my student.’
He nodded as Rosmerta came to take her drink order.
‘Why aren’t you celebrating with your friends?’ she asked him when her gillywater had arrived.
He shrugged. ‘I felt like being alone,’ he said.
‘Oh, I’m very sorry,’ she replied, standing up. ‘I can leave.’
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, surprising them both.
‘Please stay... Minerva,’ he said, and she did.
***
Several hours and several drinks later, they swayed up the walk to Hogwarts. She was giggling despite herself, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders despite her effort to hold onto the image of the strict teacher, an image that was now rapidly slipping through her inebriated fingers. Though he was slightly less drunk, he laughed along with her, supporting her weight as they walked up the castle stairs.
‘Shh,’ she whispered, still giggling quietly as they entered the castle. He obliged her, following her further into the Entrance Hall.
When they reached the stairs, he paused, and she turned to look at him. Suddenly they were both sober as he placed a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Shall I walk you up?’ he asked in a soft voice.
She nodded, allowing his hand to move from her arm to around her waist as they climbed the stairs to her rooms.
Nervousness seemed to hold Minerva McGonagall in its grasp when they reached the portrait that guarded her chambers. She murmured the password, odi et amo, and the portrait swung open. Unusually for her whose movements always seemed to exude grace, she tripped as she stepped through the portrait hole. Fortunately for her, he caught her before she could injure herself. The portrait closed noiselessly behind them, and he could wait no longer, taking her face in his hands and kissing her as she moaned in surprise.
He’d kissed girls before, of course, though he was inexperienced in all other aspects of love, but kissing Minerva was... different. Yes, she was much older than the girls he had kissed, and certainly more experienced, but despite her age he felt himself become more aroused than he ever had before.
He was strong, and he had seen enough Muggle romance movies to know that sweeping a woman off her feet was a romantic gesture. And so, lifting her easily, he carried her to her bedroom.
‘We can’t – we shouldn’t –’ she murmured as he laid her gently on the bed, her protestations belied as she wrapped her arms around him. ‘Oh, we shouldn’t...’
He silenced her with a kiss, beginning to unbutton her robes.
She was wearing white, lacy underwear, her pale skin only enhanced by the whiteness of her lingerie. He sucked in his breath at the sight of her nearly nude body. He knew he would never forget the sight of her in this moment.
‘Merlin, you’re beautiful,’ he said softly.
She smiled gently. She knew he was telling the truth, knew that he was being honest even if his erection had not been pressed firmly against her abdomen. She knew he was telling the truth – because she felt the same way.
***
Remus regarded her body with hungry eyes. At fifty-three Minerva McGonagall’s figure was just as magnificent as it had been twenty years prior. Her waist was still slender as a willow, her breasts were well-shaped and firm, her legs long and lissom. And oh, how he wanted her! The restraint of his trousers on his achingly hard erection was now too much to bear. He quickly shed his clothes and rejoined her on the bed.
***
To Minerva McGonagall, he was Adonis-like in his splendour. He was so perfectly shaped, so handsome, so young... oh, she couldn’t bear it! Her heart seemed on fire, and she would have willingly torn her heart from her breast in that moment if it would dull the pain.
What was she doing? How could she let a seventeen-year-old boy kiss her, undress her, caress her like this? It was illegal, it was immoral, it was wrong. But it had been so long since anyone had touched her like this, and so long since anyone had told her she was beautiful...
***
He ran his hands, then lips, along every contour of her body, worshipping, loving each part of her. She could do nothing but moan, tangling her fingers in his hair, crying out when he reached a particularly sensitive spot.
‘Minerva,’ he sighed when he finally, finally entered her. He felt... complete, somehow, with this woman in his arms. For the first time, he felt... whole.
***
‘Oh!’ she cried out in surprise when he gently spread her legs. She had never felt anything like this before, never felt anything as... divine as his cock buried deep within her, his lips caressing her neck, his voice murmuring her name...
She succumbed to the waves of passion that had built up within her, allowing them to wash over her. Her eyes closed and her hands gripped the bedclothes spasmodically as he yelled out her name and released into her.
***
She slept, and dreamed of Remus.
***
While she slumbered, he studied her closely. Yes, she was beautiful and passionate, but was that all that attracted him to her? Was there something else?
She stirred slightly, adjusting her head on her pillow, her hair falling in waves about her face. In that moment, she looked for all the world like Helen of Troy, with her proud Roman profile and dark, dark hair.
Beauty made men do silly things, and Remus Lupin was not certainly not immune to aesthetic splendour. But why her? Why not one of the many beautiful girls his own age?
They did not have the wisdom, the experience, the passion that Minerva McGonagall had. Nor did they have that peculiar beauty present in her features. Despite her strong, proud profile, there was a delicacy, a fragility present in her eyes. There were hints of sadness and loneliness. And it seemed that she loved him – but perhaps that was wishful thinking.
***
In years to come, he would hold this memory close to heart. He had known before they had made love that he loved her, but now he was certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He loved her more than anything...
***
She woke, and saw the world with new eyes. The future seemed brighter, happier, more complete.
He was there still, watching her closely, and she smiled at him. He smiled back, kissing her lips lightly.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, tentatively raising one hand to his cheek. ‘Thank you.’
He took her hand in his and kissed her palm.
‘I love you,’ he said, and she beamed.
‘Really?’
He nodded, pressing another kiss to her hand. ‘I’ve known that for quite some time now, but I never thought anything would become of it.’
She smiled again. It had been a long time since she had fallen in love with him – too long. But she had, and there was nothing to be done about it. At least he loved her too. He loved her too!
He stroked her hair tenderly as she moved closer to him.
‘Where will we go from here?’ he could not help but ask her.
She sighed. ‘I don’t know. But don’t let’s talk about it now – let’s just be.’
He kissed her once more, softly, as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.
Right now, the rest of the world did not exist. Right now, they had each other, and that was all that mattered.
