Silver Haired Fox

She is startled at my sudden intrusion and nearly jumps out of her chair. There is a pair of silver scissors in her right hand and as she settles back into her chair she starts idly snipping them open and shut, open and shut, eyes glossy as she seems to gaze right through them. “What on earth are you doing?” I ask, kicking the door shut behind me. I stride over to her desk and cross my arms over my chest.

“Nothing,” she says softly, just eying the scissors as their precious little jaws clench shut and spring open again. I lean forward to pull them from her fingers but she seems to have a deathly cold grip on them. “Leave ‘em be…”

“Minerva, don’t, whatever your reason this time, it won’t be any good in my opinion. I love that hair of yours.”

“Sometimes I think it’s all you love about me.”

“That’s unfair!” I growl, where is this coming from? Has Hermione Granger said something to upset my beautiful tigress? She seems forlorn and almost lost as she gazes up at me, pleading.

“I am sorry, Rolanda, I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just been a very long and tiring day.”

I nod my head and perch myself on the corner of her desk, true to my hawk like nature. It’s been a long and tiring day for me too, but I’m not going to tell her that. She settles further back into her large desk chair and sighs, but the scissors still remain wielded in her hand. I keep an eye on them, perhaps when she’s not looking I’ll snatch them away. “Want to talk about it, love?” I ask, wishing we were in her bed for this conversation. It would be much more comfortable there.

“It’s too long.”

“It’s perfect where it is,” I counter. I know that her wretched mood cannot be all because of her hair, but if that’s where she wants to start, who am I to tell her otherwise? I hop down from the corner of her desk and walk around until I’m standing just over her, gazing down at her, my eyes twinkling in the dim light of the numerous candles that float around the office. “It’s long and very sexy.”

“And too much work,” she mutters. “If it were shorter it would be easier to care for.”

“You love it when I brush your hair.”

“You shouldn’t have to be burdened with so much hair to brush. It takes hours to wash and dry, besides it’s a younger woman’s look.”

“Minerva,” I sigh and kneel down before her, taking her hands, scissors and all, into my own rough Quidditch stained palms and I squeeze them. “I love brushing your hair, it’s so beautiful. I’ll wash and dry it for you if you want, every day. Don’t cut your lovely hair off, it is not the style of a younger woman, hair has no age limit.” I feel foolish for whimpering to her, its not in my character really, but she seems to need a bit of feminine ego stroking, and every once in a while it’s nice to remind myself that I’m a woman too.

“I should just lop it all off. Wear my hair like yours…” her hand reaches out and strokes my silvery bristles.

“I won’t stand for it. One of us has to be the woman in this relationship. I wear the pants, I’m your knight in shining whatever, I get the short hair,” I tease. She sighs and I frown. I was hoping that by teasing her, she’d laugh along with me and we could simply retire to her bedroom. “You’re my beautiful princess, my Rapunzel, how shall I ever climb your tower without your long, flowing mane?”

“You’re a witch, you can fly up.” Her words are sour. I release her hands and cup her cheek, pressing my lips to hers. She is hesitant at first but then gives in, kissing me, the scissors clanking to the floor as she wraps her arms around my back. My lips are still a bit chapped from the rough wind of today’s game and I haven’t yet had a chance to heal them, but she doesn’t seem to mind. After a few moments, she pulls away. “I’m sorry, love, I’m just feeling so very old as of late.”

“You poor thing,” I kiss her cheek, then her nose, and then her lips again. My tongue traces her lower lip and I whimper a bit as our tongues meet. I know she likes to hear me respond. I pull back once more, half lidded eyes gazing into hers. “Come on, let’s go to your bedroom, yeah?”

She frowns for a moment and then she slowly nods her head. I smile. It will not take me long to remind her how young and beautiful she is. I know my lover and I know what she likes. I cannot help but wonder what has put her into this mood, but I do not dare approach the subject at current. Perhaps counseling Hermione Granger has made her realize that generations of students have passed her by, though to witches in wizards this is supposed to mean nothing. Once you hit 175 you can start to complain of old age, and Minerva is only approaching 70, though off by a few years, which serves to remind me of how old I am, though I try not to dwell on it.

She lets me lead her back to her room, through the sitting room, and down the hall until we enter the bedroom. Her cozy bed looks inviting and I am all too eager to start pushing her robes off. But the passion seems to be missing from her eyes. I frown. “Minerva?”

“I’m sorry, love,” she whispers and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. I sit beside her and play with the long locks of her hair. “I can cut it off and turn it into a doll for you,” she says, staring off into the distance.

I sigh, rather dramatically and flop onto the bed. “Minerva McGonagall, if you don’t stop this instant, I’m going to cut it off, and I’ll be brutal with it, no mercy, woman, I swear.”

I hear the hesitation in her voice and for a moment I see the flicker of fear in her eyes. “F-fine,” she says. I sit up and go to gather her hair in my hands but she pulls it quickly away. I smirk and then wrap both arms around her, pulling her down beside me.

“Love, what is the matter?”

“I’m old, Rolanda.” She says.

“Hardly,” I kiss her lips, but she doesn’t respond. I sigh. “Minerva, you’re not even 69, and you’re the most virile woman I’ve ever been with!”

“I’m the oldest woman you’ve ever been with,” she corrects me.

“Age doesn’t matter to me, love,” my voice is cracking slightly. She frustrates me in this state. I don’t know how to handle her. I’ve never seen her so cracked and broken before. “You’re beautiful,” I whisper and place my hands on her breasts. “You have firm skin, and taught breasts, gorgeous nipples and a quim that’s to die for,” I wink and trail my hand down the front of her dress, wishing I’d succeeded in removing more than just her robes.

She closes her eyes. I place a kiss on each eyelid. “Age matters to me, Rolanda,” she whispers and then I see the tiny tears trickling down from the corners of her eyes.

“Min,” I whisper stroking her hair. I’ve never been much for singing, but I try to hum a bit of a comforting lullabye. “Minerva, my sweet little lady, you’re my beautiful baby, you’re the light of my life,” and I wrap both arms tightly around her, pulling her to me. “I love you, can’t that be enough?”

She is silent for a long moment. For fifty-one years I’ve loved her, not knowing of course until I was about sixteen, but from the very first moment I saw her, astride that broom with her hair whipping wildly about, I was fascinated. There had been others, when I had played professionally of course, by my mind and body never wandered far from her, and once I had begun teaching at Hogwarts, she was my life commitment.

I kiss her. She is slow to respond, but licks at my lips after a moment and wraps her arms around my neck. I smile. “That’s a girl,” I whisper and pull back slightly to gaze into her eyes. I can sense the trouble there, and wish that there was more that I could do to ease it, but being her lover, being here to hold her, to caress and make love to her, that will have to do for now.

We lie together for sometime, she has still not let me strip her, but I do not complain. It’s not all about the sex, though sex is important. I often love laying in her arms, or holding her close to me, especially on rainy afternoons when I cannot take to the skies. My fingers stroke through her hair, and I hum in her ear, gently feathering kisses against her cheek every few moments. I feel like it is raining now. When she’s glum, it might as well be. She makes me want a cigarette, but I resist the urge to get up and leave her. She doesn’t approve of my smoking anyhow.

“Min,” I whisper at her ear. “Your team did beautifully today.”

She turns her eyes to me. “Why do you love me?” she asks. It is not a question I was expecting.

I close my eyes for a moment. “Do you remember when you first saw me?” I ask her, countering her question with one of my own. She doesn’t respond but her eyes look as if they are searching the confines of her mind, trying to think back. “I was four, Minerva, and you were the most exciting thing on a broom that day.”

She smiles, though it is weary. “You were an adorable little munchkin, still are.”

“Munchkin?” I gawk, and swat playfully at her arm. “Munchkin?” My eyes glitter wildly as I press my lips to hers, and I feel her hands on the front of my chest, slipping down into the thin silk nightgown. I love the feeling of her fingers and I moan into the kiss. “No, you don’t get to kiss the munchkin,” I tease pulling away, but I keep my hands on her shoulders, still toying with her hair. Another minute passes us. “I felt foolish when I turned eleven, Minerva, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Thought I had an illness because every time I saw you, my stomach got terribly topsy-turvy…I couldn’t bare going to Transfigurations…”

She lowers her eyelids and leans into me, letting her head fall to rest against my shoulder. “And by fifteen, when I’d figured out it wasn’t an illness, it was being gay?” I tease, licking her lips for a moment. “I was wanking off twice a week, pretending it was you, wishing I could find a reason to corner you after class, or something, but I was Ravenclaw and was fairly decent in your class…”

“I wouldn’t have let you, Rolanda,” she smiles. “No students, that’s the rule…”

I smirk at her. “Yes, well, that’s not what you said seventh year…”

“You were two weeks from being done,” she quips and then I shiver, feeling her hands again under the silk of the gown, her thumbs brushing slowly over my nipples. They harden at her touch. “And besides, you were of age…”

“A fact that Albus was willing to overlook regardless,” I add, making her flush, but my lips come to each cheek, soothing the color back to normal. “I don’t know how I managed to stay away from you those five years, playing Pro…it was never the same.”

“Rolanda, the night I heard about your fall my heart stopped.”

“So did mine,” I smirk and she swats me on the arm, only to kiss my skin where her hand has just been.

“It wasn’t but two days later that Albus announced at the staff meeting that you would be coming aboard, and I nearly dashed out of the room upon hearing it. My heart was racing, I was…anxious to say the least,” she admits.

“I was too. It was the first thing I asked him after he hired me.”

“What was, love?”

“If you were still working here,” I close my eyes and then look into hers. “They were never the same, the others along the way, all I could ever think of was you, they never lasted more than a week, and mostly I tried to stay away from them all together.” It was true, I had never held a steady girlfriend after leaving Hogwarts, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t had plenty of offers. I just couldn’t get Minerva McGonagall out of my head, and when the chance arose to return I had leapt at it.

“I remember your first night back,” she smiles and then slowly tugs the garment from my body. I shift back allowing her to take it up over my head and I watch as she lets it float to the floor. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you during dinner.”

“I thought I was going to throw up I was so nervous,” I admit.

“Albus hadn’t told me where you were staying, and he’d left the dinner table before I could corner him and ask, and then Severus, that great brooding bat, caught me in a terrible conversation and I couldn’t get away, and when I did, you’d left. I was furious with him, and had no idea where you were…” she says, fondly remembering.

“I thought perhaps you’d forgotten or weren’t interested. Time had past, so I’d left the table, you hadn’t even said hello to me.”


“Thank the gods for Filch!” we chuckle in unison. I close my eyes, her tender hands on my naked breasts and I recall that night.

~*~

I had left the table, not wanting to linger, it had been foolish to think she’d want to continue on with me. I’d left five years ago without so much as an owl in between then to let her know how I was doing. Albus had given me quarters on a half platform between the third and fourth floor just behind a giant tapestry of a Quidditch match in motion. But to hell if I’d remembered how to get there, what with the staircases moving the way they did. My steps were quick as I moved up the corridor, hoping to find my way back to my rooms, perhaps I shouldn’t have returned.

I turn round the corner only to run right into Mr. Filch, the castle’s cantankerous old caretaker. He begins to growl and lecture at me, and I can’t seem to spit out an apology fast enough. And then he’s on some tangent about women not being the proper sort to teach sports and I feel hurt, the normal gruff woman inside of me that would have yelled him back into his place, dissolved. And just when I think it will never end I hear the heels clicking on the stone floor and she is shouting before I can say anything.

“Argus Filch! Don’t you have better things to be doing than to be terrorizing our newest staff member?” Minerva narrows her gaze at him.

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I was just—”

“You were just nothing, you old goat. One of the first years is sick in the bathrooms down near the kitchen. Get your arse down there and clean it up!” She shouts at him and I breathe a sigh of relief as he high tails it out of our sight and down the corridor. Her gaze turns to me and instantly I feel the tightness in my stomach. “Sorry about that,” she says sternly. I wait for her to start back down the corridor only she approaches me. “Hello, Rolanda,” she says, a warm and welcoming smile on her lips as her arms embrace me.

I practically fall forward into her arms, my head going to her shoulder. “It’s good to be back, Minerva,” I say and then pull reluctantly away from her gentle arms. “I was headed to my rooms.”

“Oh,” she says, crestfallen. “Then I shall leave you to it.”

“No!” I find that I’ve shouted and I blush. “Er— Albus showed me, the platform between the third and fourth floor but these stairs— I’ll never find my way back, could you help me?”

Her smile broadens and I smile too. “Of course, dear, of course.”

~*~

“You were such a nervous Nelly,” Minerva teases me, her fingers thrusting into my quivering cunt. It is all I can do not to shout out her name, my legs jerking about as I come, her thumb pressing hard against my clit.

“I…I…was…you…bah…” I sigh, slick with sweat and I fall back onto the pillows. She always insists on trying to pleasure me first. I usually give in and let her. My eyes open to gaze up at her as she lays down beside me, pressing her fingers to my lips. I lick them clean. “I would have never found my way to my rooms without you that night.”

“I was late for Transfiguration the next morning because of you,” she rolls her eyes and kisses my lips.

“That’s why I love you.” I say.

“Hmm?”

“Many more reasons, but that is a good one, because you always have that Minerva-ish remark about all of our past that makes me giddy and chuckle. It’s simply you, and I love that about you.”

She stares at me as if I’ve spoken another language and then she rolls onto her side, pulling my back to her chest. “If you say so, dear.”

“And I do,” I whisper.

“Don’t go trying to marry me, Rolanda, can’t have you all gussied up in a tux before they make it legal…”

I sigh. I will marry her some day. “Yes, yes, and all that rot.” I turn my head back over my shoulders and gaze into her eyes. “I would marry you, right now, if Albus and the Wizenagamot would allow it, right now, naked in this bed, with you, I’d do it.”

“That’s not the only thing you’d do,” she chuckles and although I love her dirty humor at the best of times, I cannot fight off the blush.

“Let me strap on for you…” I whisper, eyes glittering. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Please,” I beg, but again she shakes her head. “Minerva!”

“I’m tired…” she pouts and runs a hand down my side, stroking my hip.

“All the more reason for me to strap on, you can just lay back and relax…” But I am feeling the curses of sleep take my body as well.

“Tomorrow,” she whispers, her lips trailing slowly up my back and then my neck. I feel her head rest there, and can hear her breathing settle out. I love the feeling of her naked chest against my back. I settle back into her, reaching around and pulling the duvet up over us.

“Goodnight, Min,” I whisper.

“Night, Ronnie,” she whispers back through tired lips and we both drift off to slumber, me spooned against her.