Chapter Text
After four months holding the position, Marian Henderson, seventh year Hufflepuff, could say with all her surety that being Head Girl was absolutely shite. It was shite and she was tired.
Tired of breaking up childish squabbles over Quidditch; tired of having to solve petty issues that the various Prefects couldn’t be arsed to, even though it was in theory their responsibility. Chasing curfew breakers, separating horny couples seemingly attached at the face (and other body parts, by Merlin, so many other body parts), all that on top of studying for her N.E.W.T.s. She couldn’t even find the time to fit in a snog of her own most weeks! Exhausting, and completely thankless, that’s what it was.
The day she finally snapped—as much as her disposition allowed, that is—she told the Prefects to deal with whatever issues arose by themselves for one fucking night, c’mon, you’re not all imbeciles, and not to bother her unless someone was being murdered, and even then, only if the Head Boy was unavailable.
After a proper make out session with her much neglected boyfriend, Marian, feeling chipper than she had in weeks, tackled her enormous pile of homework and revision papers. Fate seemed to have taken pity on her, the library calm and quiet, and it seemed like she would have a perfect evening. She deserved that. She did .
The hours ticked by unbothered, her to-do stack growing smaller and smaller each time she looked. As she picked up her Arithmancy work, she thought maybe she’d be able to finish at least the assignments accumulated over the week and keep them up to date now. She ignored a commotion, not so hushed voices arguing somewhere behind her, hidden among the shelves, and hoped Madam Edevane would return soon from her dinner break, letting the numbers pull her in.
Instead of petering out, the racket got progressively worse. Books clattering around, followed by the dull noise of flesh hitting wood; another sound, this time the dry crack of a skull colliding with the stone floor, and then silence. Marian dropped her head in her hands. She only wanted one night.
“You better be fucking dead,” she muttered, pushing her chair back with a screech. “Or I’ll kill the both of you with my bare hands.”
Rounding on the section about Wizarding Sports/XI through XIV centuries, she found the culprits sprawled among their destruction, a few books on quidditch lazily flying over them. Edevane would have a fit over the rolls of parchment currently poking beneath the entangled couple.
“Alright, disentangle right now and maybe I can be persuaded to skip on detentions.”
“Fuck off, Marian,” came the muffled answer from under the curtain of black hair hiding the face of the person underneath, but she’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“McGonagall, what the hell?”
The girl on top raised her head a little, just enough she could see Minerva’s flushed face through the dark hair clinging around them like seaweeds. The Gryffindor’s nose seemed to have taken a bash, sluggishly bleeding and swollen, but she didn’t seem to mind at all, just like she didn’t mind the hand tightly knotted around her braid. Marian looked to the girl still straddling Minerva’s tights, skirts hiked up almost to her knickers, being greeted by angry, button black eyes. Of fucking course.
“So this is why you’re always up each other’s throats?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Minerva’s still glassy look. She stayed on the ground a while longer after Prince stood, raising a hand to touch her lips dreamily. “Don’t know what to do with the tension so you beat each other up?”
“I don’t think it’s any of your business, Henderson, that’s what I think,” hissed Prince.
“It is when you destroy half the library trying to snog!” Marian was by no means exceptionally tall or strong, but she still towered over Eileen Prince by about a head. It didn’t mean she felt comfortable taking on the twiggy Slytherin on her own; everyone in the school knew you didn’t mess with Prince unless you wanted a punch to the face. The only one who seemed to have a taste for it was McGonagall, the crazy bitch. “Look, I was already tired of this last year when you cursed each other silly in the middle of the Halloween feast, so what do you say you clean this up and I forget I ever saw you here? I won’t even dock points if you do it quietly, hm, how about that?”
Prince narrowed her eyes, ducking to the side to avoid a stray book, while McGonagall finally picked herself off the ground. She dusted her trousers, pushing the scraggly hair out of her face and looked over to her… What were they even? The Slytherin returned the look before nodding, sullen as sin, as if she were doing Marian a favour.
“Great, this is great,” she answered, “I’ll go back to my homework, you won’t bother me again, and everyone is happy.”
She turned to leave, but thought better. “If I hear one peep, it’s a week’s detention for each of you,” she threatened. Prince just raised an eyebrow, bending to pick a scroll. “Don’t think I won’t, because I will.”
Walking away purposefully without a second glance, Marian grabbed her books and moved to a table as far away from them as possible. Being Head Girl was absolutely bollocks.
As she watched the Head Girl stomping away, Minerva released the breath she’d been holding, slumping against the nearest shelf. Her lips still felt tingly from Eileen’s fierce kissing as she dragged her fingers over them again, the strange fluttering in her stomach every time she saw the other girl suddenly making a whole lot of sense. Well, more sense than bothering her until she snapped ever did at least.
Sighing, she dropped her head back, just to wince when it touched the wood. Reaching back with her hand, she felt around her sensitive scalp, prickling where the strands had been pulled on too roughly, until she found the start of a sizeable goose egg forming where she’d knocked her noggin against the floor. Ouch.
“You didn’t need to throw me down that hard,” she complained towards the girl stacking books on the floor. Eileen had never been very good at Charms. “Or headbutt my nose,” she continued. “I think it’s broken.”
“I can Episkey it for you,” said Eileen. “I just don’t guarantee it’ll come out right.”
The offer was meant to be refused, she knew that. It was no secret that most of her own house thought Eileen somewhat of a failure as a witch for not managing to perform well in more than a few classes. If they watched her as closely as Minerva did, they’d know she would be one of the best in their year at Herbology and Defense, and certainly the best at Potions if she bothered; she was just not very interested.
“Alright then,” she answered. “Fire it up.”
Eileen dropped the parchment she was holding, looking at her in puzzlement. Minerva nodded and closed her eyes, feeling the spell washing over her face at Eileen’s soft incantation after a moment's hesitation, the cartilage resetting with a sharp crack. The flesh was tender under her fingertips, but roughly the shape she was used to, earning the Slytherin a smile. She just frowned and went back to placing the books in their right spots.
Minerva sweeped an Accio over their heads, catching the flying books with ease born out of years of quidditch practice. In no time they managed to do a passable job at repairing the damage they wrecked on the corridors, though a careful eye would notice the creases on the parchments, loose pages and cracked spines on the books. Eileen pushed the last tome in place, turning on her heel to leave without a second glance.
“Prince, wait!” called Minerva, suddenly anxious at seeing her go. She didn’t want her to leave like that, to go back to treating her like an annoying pebble in her shoe. “I mean, Eileen, please, wait.”
Eileen stopped without turning to her, heaving a tired sigh that shook her bony shoulders. She took it as a sign to continue.
“I, I kind of enjoyed it. The kissing, I mean.” Tried to continue, that is. Her tongue had never felt so clumsy. “We could do without the smashed nose, but the kissing was nice. And when you were sitting on me?”
She flushed the second the words left her mouth, barely resisting the urge to give herself a goose egg on the forehead to match the one in the back of her head. You liked her sitting on you, what kind of flirting is that, Minnie, what the fuck. Eileen looked back at her, a mocking eyebrow arched under the blooming bruise in her forehead from when she headbutted her nose.
I hate that smug look, Merlin's balls, she thought automatically. I want to wipe it off her face, I want to kiss her senseless until she can’t breath-
Alright, that was definitely a different train of thought than she usually had. She cleared her throat, returning the look as steadily as she could. “If you wanted to do it again I'd really like it. If you want to,” she bit her lip, made uncertain by the other girl’s lack of response. “Do you want to?”
Eileen watched her carefully, considering, while she made her disjointed attempt, only to sag against the bookshelf beside her. She rubbed her face tiredly, blowing a breath before turning her eyes upwards, her hair falling around her shoulders.
“I think this is a ridiculous idea,” she muttered, “You hate me.”
“Don’t see how it’s ridiculous, and I don’t hate you,” said Minerva, stepping closer to the other girl. “Do you hate me?”
The look she received said you’re thick, aren’t you, and it made her shiver. “I don’t go around kissing people I hate.” Minerva huffed a laugh, getting closer still.
“Is that a no?”
The Slytherin rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t hate you, bristle-head.”
They were standing close enough now the tips of Minerva’s shoes were just shy of touching Eileen’s. Minerva felt a wave of warmth run through her skin as she noticed her mouth was the same height as the other girl’s forehead, the bruise now sharper than before, and she barely contained the urge to press her lips against it, to kiss it better. To kiss her.
She really wanted to kiss her right now.
“If I kissed you,” she asked, softly, “would you let me, or would you punch me?”
Raising her head, Eileen gave her a wry little smile. “You’ll only know if you try…”
The first touch was tentative, Minerva barely able to believe it was welcome, wanted. A gentle peck on her lips, slightly off center, and a subtle retreat, a silent question. Black eyes watching amused, while a pair of skinny arms circled her waist, pulling her closer; an invitation for more.
Time stretched out like them around each other. One of Eileen’s hands found its way back to her hair, only this time the grip was gentler, unhurried but no less demanding than the sharp hold from their first kiss; the other hand was splayed on the small of her back under her jumper, warm enough to make her melt. When they finally started to untwine, Minerva gave into her earlier wish and placed a soft peck against Eileen’s forehead, meant to sooth.
“Sappy,” said Eileen, but the teasing was mellowed out, the edges smoothed. Minerva felt proud of herself.
“Maybe,” she answered, “But it feels nice, so why not?”
“Hm.” They stayed around each other a little longer, Eileen’s chin against her shoulder, before she spoke again. “Edevane will be around anytime now. Don’t fancy getting caught near that South Asian Magical Board Games in the XIII Century edition.”
Minerva looked over her shoulder to said book, just in time to see the spine fall off. “You’re right,” she winced.
Clothes were straightened, hairs put back in place, in an attempt to make themselves presentable. Nothing could be done about the state of their mouths but somehow she didn’t think anyone would dare comment on it. The silence that followed them out of the library, while not precisely uncomfortable, put Minerva on edge again; words kept jumping around in her mind, ways she maybe could convince Eileen to give it a chance. None of them felt right, or enough.
“You know those unused classrooms near the kitchens?”
Her thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt, thrown off by the question. “Yeah, they’re full of junk and old furniture,” she frowned. “What about them?”
“Meet me tomorrow on the third one to the left, counting from the kitchen’s portrait onwards,” answered Eileen, a devious spark dancing in her black eyes. “After dinner.”
“Oh-,” Minerva flushed, and then frowned again. “Why there? There’s plenty other places we could meet.”
“Because, while the second kiss was very nice,” she was conspiratorial now, incensed. “The first one deserves some repeating too, and I don’t think anyone will care if we break a few tables there, hm?”
She then threw a hurried glance over her shoulder, searching for onlookers, before pulling a stunned Minerva down for a fiery, breathless, altogether too brief kiss, leaving her gaping and flushed in the middle of the corridor. She didn’t even wait for an answer, the imp.
Her thoughts came back slowly, wading through a current of syrupy warmth left behind by the Slytherin. Minerva shook herself and started making her way back to the Common Room. The Fat Lady lost her patience after asking her the password five times and receiving no answer, and decided to just let the dizzy girl back instead. Later in her bed, Minerva couldn’t stop grinning at her luck. She’d get the duelling and kissing. What more could a girl want?
“Those weeks were some of the best I ever had, you know,” Eileen said, head pillowed against her shoulder, hair sticking all around them as if it had a mind of its own. Spinner’s End sat quiet save for the creakings of an old house, Severus having left for night with minimal whinging.
“And you call me sappy,” answered Minerva, too high in her happiness to feel too bitter about the past.
“That’s because you are.” She laughed, receiving a sharp elbow to her ribs. “I still wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t chickened out…”
“We’re here now, love. It’s no use wondering about what ifs, is it?”
“No, you’re right.” The voice was soft, dreamy. “We’re really here now.”