Chapter 14

Minerva realized she stood in a silent room only after she had lowered her arms. Every Sildanius student was looking at her at once - some shocked, some horrified, some with growing fury. Minerva coughed. “I mean ... uh...”

“I think Minerva’s right,” Kat said, immediately.

“Right?” Clyve asked, his eyes boggling. “Right!? The bloody Reds just tore down a thousand years of secrecy and work overnight.”

“No, they haven’t,” Bellatrix said, her eyes snapping into focus as she shook her head. “No, remember, back at the end of the war, my mother told me that they already released the secret treaties and revealed magic back then and no one believed them.”

“They were in a bloody civil war,” Clyve said. “We could shut them up.”

“Yeah,” Gregory added. “But they’re not anymore, not with their Iron Lady stepping on everyone’s bloody-”

“The Premiere isn’t a tyrant!” Selene exclaimed.

This once more drew silence to the room as Minerva watched eyes land on the House Wainscove girl. She blinked as everyone looked at her, then waved at them mutely, as if to say ‘hello, I am from House Wainscove.’

“Who let that lunatic in here!?” An older Sildanius man asked, stepping over and taking hold of Selene’s arm, squeezing her hard.

“Oh thank you!” Selene said, smiling brightly. “I’ve been trying to align my lunar sensibilities more effectively, I’m glad it’s work-” She yelped as the man started to shake her. Minerva stepped forward, but before she could, Gina decided to help.

“Oi! Let her go!” She stepped forward into everyone’s line of sight, glaring at the older Sildanius.

“Glintfaire!?” Gregory yelped.

“Don’t wear it out!” Gina growled, her hand dropping to her wand.

“Who let these other Houses in here?” The man snarled, then swung his gaze onto Minerva.

“Technically, Gregory let them in,” Minerva said, cool as a cucumber. “And as for all this, is now really the time to worry about childish house grandstanding? Whether this is good or not, it’s changed the whole wide world all at the same time and we should maybe be considering that and not if a Wainscove girl saw that we have dreadful gargoyles and worse carpeting.” She sniffed. The man she was looking at scowled and flushed, then seemed to remember himself. He let Selene go, who brushed her robes straight.

“Thank you,” she said, severely. “I have never been manhandled before!”

“How?” Gina whispered. Minerva shushed her.

“It has been quite an experience,” Selene finished.

“Please leave, your own houses will have heard all of this,” Minerva said, figuring if she had the initiative, she might as well stick with it. She turned to face her friends - noticing with some relief that Harry had remained quiet and in the background and looked ready to slip out without drawing a single glance. “This has been a shock for everyone - we can’t all go off half cocked, eh?” She smiled. “We’ll meet again later. Say, tomorrow?”

“Or after when the headmaster calls an assembly,” Kat added.

Everyone nodded and the non-Sildanius students were allowed to quietly leave - but once the door had slammed shut and locked, the conversation exploded once more. Fortunately, people’s ire (or panic) had stopped aiming directly at Minerva. Her outburst was forgotten for the moment as people adjusted the knob on the wireless, trying to bring up wireless stations from elsewhere in the world. When Minerva retreated to her rooms, a spell was being jerry rigged to try and extend the range to get transmissions from the Continent or even further.

When Minerva thumped down onto her bed, her arms spread, her eyes staring up at the ceiling, she found herself alone for the moment ... alone with her mind whirling, whirling, whirling. It felt as if every little plan, every little worry, every little dream she had had was entirely cast end over end. Her stomach knotted as she realized...

She hadn’t even thought of Petuna in far, far, far too long.

Minerva frowned.

“And I can’t even get to her...” she whispered. “If I could just fly my broom.”

But no.

There was a twenty four hour trip through the most hostile part of the Astral Plane to reach the mundane world. And there, miles and miles and miles away, across Scotland and England, was Petunia. Was she listening to the mundane radio? Was she in their favorite pub, missing her and wishing she was there to hear the story: That magic was real. That it could be harnessed by the people of the world. Minerva closed her eyes.

I already knew that, Petunia could be saying. Minerva showed me.

“I have to get to her!” She groaned.

“Get to who?”

Minerva jerked upwards. She half expected Kat to be standing in the door. But no. It was Bellatrix. She was regarding her with a curious frown.

“I ... I had a mundane friend,” Minerva said, finding herself unequal to the task of coming up with yet another lie to burden the world with. “Petunia. She must be hearing this and going utterly mad. But I can’t just slip out and fly to her.”

Bellatrix bit her lip, then looked back at the door she stood in. “ ... that’s not entirely true,” she admitted.

Minerva’s brow furrowed.

“I like you, Minerva,” Bellatrix said. “You’re a good duelist! And a good witch. And, well, you’re braver than me.” At Minerva’s confused look, she blushed and ducked her head forward. “I kind of wanted to start cheering too.” She walked over and sat down on the corner of her bed, her hands on her knees. “I know that they’re just mundanes, but, having to lie to everyone who isn’t a wizard, having to cast spells to blank memories, having to ... having to do everything that the Masquerade needs to be kept? It’s ... I don’t quite like it.” She ducked her head forward even more, hunching down. “But I can’t be like you.”

“Yes you can!” Minerva exclaimed, standing up and moving to the other bed. She sat beside Bellatrix, taking her hand.

“I can’t!” Bellatrix said, her mousy features flushing as she lifted her gaze to Minerva. “I read about amazing people. You go and do what those amazing people do! You get into duels and go off into secret meetings and are friends with Harry Perry and you’re the best in class and and a-and I’m just...” She trailed off. Minerva enfolded both of her hands around Bellatrix’s hands, interlacing her fingers. Bellatrix’s hand felt shockingly cool, but she started to warm moment by moment as Minerva smiled at her.

“I used to be someone who just read books too,” Minerva said. “You just need to be brave and you can do anything.”

Bellatrix looked at her. Minerva became quite acutely aware of how very close they were sitting. Her cheeks heated. Oy Vey Iz Mir!, she thought. Am ... Am I going to feel this for every ... every ... oh she is very pretty, isn’t she?

“I suppose,” Bellatrix murmured. Minerva leaned in. Her lips drew even closer and the distance between herself and Bellatrix seemed to stretch out between her, making every inch feel like miles. Bellatrix’s eyes widened in confusion and Minerva realized just what she was about to do when she forced herself to stand to her feet, blushing hard.

“S-So, uh...” She brushed her hands along her hips, forcing her robes to lay flat once more. “W-What was this about, um, you said something about ... about ... the?” She left the word hanging.

“Sally port!” Bellatrix said.

“Who is Sally Port?” Minerva asked. “Is she in another house?”

Bellatrix blinked at her. “No, the sally port, the, the bolt hole! The secret passage out of a castle!”

“ ... there’s a secret passage?” Minerva’s eyebrows went straight up.

Bellatrix and Minerva walked together, with Bellatrix leading the way, through the narrow winding stone. She held aloft her wand, which glowed with a pale luminance, and explained: “Hexgramatica is a castle. Castles have these sally ports so that you can get out during a siege, raid the enemy, sneak in supplies! Otherwise people would just set up camp at the train station and starve us out. And my family has been going through this academy for centuries - my auntie told me about this particular one. Well, uh ... oh, why did you have to go talk to Kat before coming here?”

“We’re friends,” Minerva said, trying to not blush.

Do be gentle with her. I hear polio leaves you-

Minerva had shushed her and felt like a boiling over tea kettle.

“You do seem to be close friends with quite a lot of ... ah! Here we are,” Bellatrix said, stopping before a narrow V branching in the corridor. “So, that way leads to the trap-pit that slides one into the mulching vats for the apothecarium, and that way leads to the bolthole that leads through the astral. It’s a bit of a walk, but a shorter one than the day long trip through the rail.”

“How is walking faster than the rail?” Minerva asked. “And ... you are quite sure that this way leads out? And it’s not the other way around?”

“Quite sure,” Bellatrix said, nodding to herself. “Quite sure. And, well, the rail has to go through a safer route, the engine draws more attention. This is a faster, more dangerous way, but since it has just a few students going through it at any one time, it doesn’t need to wind so much. Oh, but whatever you do, my auntie told me: Don’t. Look. Backwards.” She prodded her finger against Minerva’s chest.

“Right,” Minerva said. “How dangerous is it though?”

“More dangerous than it used to be ... but not so dangerous as all that,” Bellatrix said, turning back to look down the V pathway. She looked left and right. “Since there are wards, see?” She pointed at some half covered runes. “Okay. And do come back quickly - people will notice if you’re gone overlong.”

Minerva slipped past her, brushing close. She paused at the entrance to the bolthole’s proper exit, then turned back and leaned in to kiss Bellatrix on the cheek. “Remember, you can be brave,” she whispered to her.

Bellatrix flushed and smiled at her. “I ... I’ll try, Minerva.”

Minerva turned and then started to walk down the corridor, lifting her wand and whispering a quiet Awer Lēoht So to create a glowing ball at the tip of her wand that shone its light along the walls of the stone bolthole. The brickwork was ancient and worn and faintly damp, and as she strode forward, she heard nothing but her breathing and the clicking of her shoes. The back of her neck prickled as she remembered her trip into the astral plane, and the memory of the terror behind her and the whispered words of the vampire: Wake up. But down here, she was awake and she could not escape easily ... she squared her shoulders.

She would simply not look backwards.

A girlish giggle came from behind her, echoing faintly off the walls.

Minerva froze. “Oh you mamzer bastards.”

The giggle - the familiar one - came closer, and then Bellatrix’s voice purred in her ear. “Hey, I decided to be brave, Minerva.” Hands almost brushed along Minerva’s shoulders and she was painfully aware of the slender, brown haired girl behind her. She could almost picture her delicate lips, open and waiting and oh so very soft.

“And I am not that stupid,” Minerva said, firmly. She started to walk forward again, her shoulders squared. ‘Bellatrix’ didn’t giggle behind her again. She came what felt like half a mile farther before, once more, she heard a snarling growling sound behind her. Claws scraped along the walls, and then she felt something hot and warm and rotting breathe against the nape of her neck. She could picture the claws, the arms, the knotted muscles and the hideous tongue. She closed her eyes and kept walking, her back stiff. Straight. “I am not that stupid, I am not that stupid, I am not that stupid...”

She kept walking, her eyes closed, her hand on the wall, thinking the same thing over and over again.

The third - for there had to be a third, had there not? - sound was a shriek, wailing up to a hideous note of pure pain. Sobbing, that shriek became words. “Minerva! Help me! Help me!” Kat’s voice clawed at her ears and the sound of agony grew even louder. Minerva clenched her hands and broke into a run, her stomach knotting. She almost tripped on the stones, her eyes flashing open - and she found herself stumbling out of a narrow crack of stone. She fell forward, skidding along her belly. Cool grass and dew tingled along her nose. Minerva lifted her head, panting softly.

She was out. The moors of Scotland, lit only by the lonely moon and stars, stretched out beyond her. She looked back and saw that she had emerged between a pair of lonely standing stones, as if someone had begun to replicate Stonehenge then grown tired of it. The dark space between them looked ominous. She swore she could see eyes peering out at her, glowering and fierce. Minerva repressed the very Gina-ish urge to stick her tongue out at them. She stood, then reached into her pocket. From it came her broom, the desk chiming and clicking cheerfully as she held it in her palm.

“Ready for a real flight?” Minerva whispered.

Her desk clattered.

Minerva had not ever been flying for long periods of time before - it had been nothing but training under Captain C.C DuVaule-Cordwine, and that was all on maneuver and basic command, and it had all been under fierce direction with none of that skylarking, young miss! ready to be tossed out at any time, for any reason.

So, when she took to the air above Scotland and began to fly south, she could not resist the urge to corkscrew and flip and fly at a greater speed than she had ever flown before. She swept down over copses of trees, then laughed as she soared up towards the clouds overhead. A spell kept her warm and the night seemed infinite and purely for her to enjoy.

But the simple joys gave way before the sheer scale of England - even at her maximum speed, soaring towards London took far longer than she had expected. And what began as a delight became somewhat tedious, then a bore, broken up only by seeing the towns and the villages that she made sure to give quite a berth around. Minerva leaned back into her seat, her eyes closing for a moment.

Then, before she knew it, she was at London. The excitement of being here so quickly led her to Petunia’s window, and all the ideas of what she might do ... of what she ... could do now that she was confident and sensual and powerful...

That thought was burning through her brain well after Petunia was sitting up and blinking blearily. Petunia looked out the window and saw her, and the look of delight and wonder on her face was enough to warm Minerva from her toes to her head. Petunia stood, grabbing her crutch and using it to hobble herself over to the window. She opened it and beamed at Minerva.

“Minerva!” She exclaimed. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, no!” Minerva slid from the chair of her desk, setting her rump down on the top, allowing it to float her up so she and Petunia were looking at one another. This movement caused Petunia to tear her eyes from Minerva to look down at the desk.

“Is that ... a flying ... desk?” Petunia asked.

“It is...” Minerva said. “May I come in?”

“Of course!” Petunia said, smiling at her.

Petunia stepped back and Minerva slipped her legs over the sill. She swung in and waved her wand, whispering a quiet spell to shrink the desk down. It flitted in after her and the window shut and Minerva found herself hugged by both arms - Petunia put her weight onto Minerva, forcing her to hold her up. Not that that was really an issue, considering Petunia felt so light weight compared to ... other girls. Minerva slid her arms around her back, whispering softly. “I’m sorry I’ve been away so long.”

“It’s only been a few months,” Petunia said, her voice playful.

“Has it?” Minerva laughed. “It’s felt like lifetimes.” She shuffled, then sat down on the bed. Had their rooms always been so tiny?

As she sat down, Petunia yelped and was dragged onto her lap. Her withered leg was uncovered by her brace and by her nightclothes, and it hung at an awkward angle until Minerva reached down and took hold of her knee, drawing it up. There, Petunia sat on Minerva’s lap, looking down at her. Minerva looked up. Her smile was gentle.

“Did you hear about ... on the wireless?”

“Yes, I did!” Petunia said. “Should I move?”

“No,” Minerva said, quietly. “No, I think you’re quite all right there.” Her hand slid along the side of Petunia’s knee up to her hip, rumpling her nightclothes. Petunia’s eyes widened in confusion.

“Minerva...”

“There’s something else I learned at Hexgramatica, Petunia,” Minerva said. She leaned forward, punch drunk with Petunia’s closeness and her intoxicating beauty. Their lips pressed together. Petunia didn’t kiss back. Her eyes widened and she made a confused noise, then a soft mewling sound as Minerva tilted her head to the side. Minerva’s tongue slid against her tongue and Petunia grabbed onto her shoulders ... not ... quite pushing her away, but not really drawing her in. Minerva felt her hesitance and confusion and to her mild shame, it aroused an even brighter excitement between her thighs. Her hands openly cupped Petunia’s ass, squeezing her, drawing her close.

Petunia broke the kiss now, gasping. “M-Minerva!”

“I’ve always wanted to do this, Petunia. You’re so beautiful and ... and I’ve felt this way about women my whole life, it feels. I just never had the words for it. And Petunia, I know you feel the same way, I just know it,” Minerva said, the words tumbling from her mouth as Petunia blushed and shook her head.

“W-We can’t! I ... it’s not right!” Petunia said. Minerva cupped the small of her back with one hand, drawing her close, leaning in. Her lips found Petunia’s neck as the girl whispered. “We’re both girls, and ... oh...” She groaned as Minerva used her teeth, teasing along her skin. Her left hand squeezed Petunia’s rump. Petunia’s eyes fluttered half shut, her head rolling to the back and the side, exposing more of her neck. Minerva flashed onto the mental image of Harry and Robert, the vampire’s fangs driving deep, and her imagination coiled around. The Enrage, lurking beneath the foundations of Hexgramatica, enfolding her in her arms ... except now, she was the one, the seductive darkness calling from the shadows...

And as she sucked, gently, on Petunia’s peach perfect skin, tasting her delicious silkness, she felt Petunia respond. Through her thin nightclothes, she could feel her eager hard nipples. She could scent her gathering excitement. She could hear her mewling softly. “Minerva, this is ungodly!”

Minerva tugged up her top. Petunia lifted her arms, blushing.

“Please, do stop,” Petunia whispered.

“I think I shall not,” Minerva said, tossing her bedclothes away. Under the harsh glow of the electric light in the room, Petunia’s were as perfect as she had ever imagined. Mienrva cupped both with her hands, squeezing them. Petunia was a petite woman. Her tits filled her palms most delightfully and her fingers found those rosy nipples, tugging them gently. Gently. Petunia ducked her head forward, her withered leg twitching, her good leg shifting and pushing against the bed, making her unbalanced.

“Minerva, stop, I ... ah!” She gasped and arched her back, pressing herself despite her words as Minerva ceased nibbling her neck. Oh no. Minerva was kissing along her collar bone, adding a tiny kiss and a tiny bite each step, leaving dimples and red spots on that pale, pale, pale skin of her’s. She came closer and closer to her breasts as Petunia’s words grew more desperate, and her body language became more emphatic. Her spine arched, presenting her tits to Minerva’s questing mouth as a soft litany escaped her lips: “Please, I’m not a lesbian, I ... oh Minerva, please, oh...”

Minerva sucked greedily on one nipple, then the other, then went back again, leaving both glistening and aching with eagerness. Her hand pushed down, revealing the wild, downy thatch of blond pubic hair that curled above her dripping sex. And dripping was no exaggeration - Minerva didn’t think that she had ever seen a girl quite so aroused before. Her tongue darted along her lips as her fingers brushed through the golden curls. Her lips twitched in an eager grin. “You are quite sure you’re not a lesbian?”

“This is wrong,” Petunia whispered, turning her head aside.

“Do you want me to stop?” Minerva’s fingers teased through that hair, coming closer and closer to the cleft of Petunia’s sex.

“ ... no...” Petunia whispered.

“What was that?” Minerva crooned. “I swore you said this was wrong. That you were no lesbian.”

“I-...” Petunia squirmed. “Minerva, you’ve changed!”

Minerva grinned. “Have I?” She leaned forward. Her voice was a soft whisper. “I never even let myself dream of this. Of you.” Her fingers slipped. Crooked. The folds of Petunia’s sex parted for her as eagerly as and as smoothly as the petals of a flower. “But oh deep down, buried as far as I could force it, I’ve wanted this since I ever met you, my Petunia.” Her fingers plunged deeper and Petunia clung to her with her arms, her body trembling as she held onto Minerva as if she were a life preserver in a storm tossed sea. Minerva nibbled her ear, then whispered into it. “I am a dyke, Petunia. And so are you.”

“Oh Minerva!” Petunia gasped, unable to keep it in any more. Her fingernails dug against Minerva’s back, squeezing her as Minerva’s fingers began to work within her. And oh, oh, oh, how did Minerva thank Professor Melissa Stevenson for her ... education. She shifted her grip. Added a finger. And thus, she did provoke a most impressive moan: “Minnie!”

Minerva drew her fingers forth. She admired just how slippery they were. Her grin was wicked. “Oh I am going to do dreadful things to you, Petunia.”

“A-Are you?” Petunia sounded dazed, her cheeks flushed. She squeaked as Minerva man ... well, womanhandled her around in the bed. Soon, Petunia’s thighs were spread, her withered leg propped up on a pillow, her good leg lifted up, crooked against Minerva’s shoulder. Minerva, not having time to waste, had simply flicked her wand and Kemb’d her clothes off her body, leaving herself nude and oh so very eager. She crooked her thighs.

“A friend told me about this,” Minerva said.

“H-How many lesbians in that school?” Petunia asked, her eyes widening as she crooked her head up, watching as MInerva slid her own sex, dripping with arousal, against the inside of her thighs.

“Not as many as I’d like,” Minerva purred.

“Good hea-ah ... ah-vens!” Petunia’s head rolled back as Minerva bucked her hips and their sexes pressed together. Minerva groaned as she felt warmth and wetness intermingling. The pressure made her bite her lip hard. She started to rock her hips and with every motion, her pussy and Petunia’s pussy slipped against one another. Their clits bumped together. Their bodies intermingled and their moans twined together as Petunia allowed herself to groan in eagerness. Minerva, her head buzzing with pleasure, realized her mistake. She hastily grabbed her wand, whispering and flicking it.

Soundproofing magic flared around the room.

That done, she grabbed onto both of Petunia’s hips. Thanks to her polio induced injury, Petunia could not quite buck back. That was fine. That was more than fine. Minerva leaned in and channeled her inner Professor Stevenson. She began to rock her hips into Petunia, squeaking the bed beneath her as sweat beaded and dripped along her body, the stifling heat of the room and the harsh electric lights only making the sensation of body grinding against body feel more intense, more forbidden, more perfect. Petunia’s back arched as she cried out. “Minerva! Minerva! Oh Minerva! Oh ... I...” She clapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks burning. She tried to keep herself quiet.

So.

Minerva fucked her harder.

The bed was squealing loudly now and Petunia’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t stop it. Her hand released her mouth, her other hand gripping to the headboard - joined by one of Minerva’s, using them as a brace as Minerva leaned over, her breasts swaying above Petunia. She leaned her head forward, panting softly. “Cum for me, my little flower, yes, cum for me.”