Title: Through Nights of Storm and Darkness
Author: pale_moonlight
Pairings: Minerva McGonagall/Pomona Sprout, Minerva McGonagall/Tom Riddle
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Ceraunophilia: arousal by thunder and lightning/storms.
Other Warnings: Mention of canon character deaths.
Word Count: ~ 4,100
Summary: Thunder and lightning has the power to reduce Minerva McGonagall to a state of absolute want. The reasons for this may lie in the past.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta and brit-pick, lyras, who did an incredible job at very short notice. Thanks to her, this story is so much better. All remaining mistakes are my own.




Thunder crashes as Pomona slips two fingers inside her, and Minerva thrusts her hips up greedily. Beneath everything else she can feel the surge of the storm. She's charged with static electricity and her hair stands on end. When Pomona touches her arm to anchor her, it's like a shock.

A bolt of lightning streaks across the sky. It fills the glasshouse with a sick greenish light that reminds her of the Killing Curse. As Pomona replaces her fingers with a cucumber-shaped dildo, Minerva is helpless against the onslaught of sensations. The next clap of thunder has her writhing on the flowerbed, crying out for more. And Pomona holds her down, giving her everything she has.

It's over. The storm has ceased and released Minerva from its spell. She's back to normal now and can finally reciprocate. She caresses Pomona's drooping breasts that are so warm and soft and beautiful. With every kiss Minerva says thank you. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for keeping me sane. Her lips follow the shape of Pomona's round belly before they slide further down.

Pomona smells of earth and of home. Pleasuring her, Minerva is able to forget the lure of the thunder and the lightning.



1943

Minerva and Tom met on top of the Astronomy Tower just like everybody else. It was only conspicuous that, unlike when Minerva was patrolling the halls at night as part of her head girl duties, she never encountered a single soul on her way to these trysts. She suspected that this was Tom's doing, that he had created a charm to protect her honour. And while the head girl in her disapproved and the intellectual could hardly wait to learn about the nature of the spell, Minerva had never even got around asking Tom about it.

Minerva had only laughed when he had first asked her to meet him for a secret rendezvous after curfew. It was true that Tom was a good-looking lad and that he had charmed half the girls of her year with his compelling smile, but for a self-respecting witch of full age like Minerva it was unthinkable to go out with a sixteen-year-old boy. Not to mention that his team was leading the Quidditch Cup.

The roses had taken her by surprise. Since the accident with the badly Transfigured house-elf in fourth year Alastor sent her violets every Valentine's Day, but other than that Minerva had no experience whatsoever with being wooed by flowers. Apart from reading about it, of course. And so she had decided that it would be best to act like her favourite heroine Althea Ashton in The Bluestocking and the Pied Piper and ignore the whole thing.

Tom had persisted and Minerva had soon felt like a fortress under siege. Wherever she went, red roses would unfailingly appear. Tom had even managed to hide one inside Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration. The little pencil sketch only unfolded its petals and transformed into a real, fragrant rose as Minerva opened the book onto the day's lesson. Professor Dumbledore twinkled and congratulated her on her skills. And Minerva lowered her eyes, blushed, and remained silent. While she was unwilling to reveal the true circumstances behind the rose, she was at the same time deeply ashamed of falsely taking credit for an advanced piece of magic so beautiful.

Tom's courtship had continued to be embarrassing. In no time at all the whole castle knew that the bookish, bespectacled head girl had found herself an admirer.

"Who is he?" Pomona had asked, out of breath after returning to their secret hideout from a midnight raid to the kitchens.

Minerva pushed the rose she'd been contemplating back into Spellman's Syllabary where it served as a bookmark. "Tom Riddle," she admitted with a shrug. "Silly little boy."

"He's sort of good-looking, isn't he?" Pomona said in between bites of an enormous cheese sandwich. She was obviously more interested in the simple comforts of life than in romance, and Minerva loved her best friend dearly for it.

Not everyone had reacted as nonchalantly as Pomona. "Tom Riddle?" Olive Hornby had screamed with laughter. "Who knew you had it in you? Imagine a wizard like him being interested in someone like you."

Olive's excessive hilarity didn't go unnoticed, and Minerva soon saw herself surrounded by all the girls in the common room, staring at her with a mixture of mirth and disbelief in their eyes. At that moment she hated Tom.

When one night her four-poster had been completely covered in rose petals, a fact on which Olive had commented with, "Sweet Merlin, you must be doing this yourself!" Minerva had had enough. Seething with anger, she stormed out of the dormitory to give Tom a piece of her mind.

She found him on top of the Astronomy Tower where he had said he would wait for her every night. Fitting her mood, a storm raged outside. Torrents of rain greeted her as she opened the door to the platform, and the wind was so strong that it forced her back against the wall. Streaks of lightning ripped across the sky, followed by crashes of thunder. Calm and composed, Tom stood in the middle of it all. He had erected a shield around himself to defy the power of the elements. Lightning sparks sizzled along the boundaries of the bubble, illuminating his face with a supernatural glow. He reminded Minerva of an ancient deity, and for the first time she thought him beautiful.

Tom stretched his hand out and beckoned her to join him.

To this day Minerva can't say what exactly happened between them that night on the tower. She has consulted her Pensieve repeatedly, but while the memory is clear when visited, it becomes muddy and unreliable the moment she resurfaces. The few theories she has are too unpleasant to repeat, even to herself.

A heated kiss at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower and the promise to meet again the following night is all she remembers of that fateful first date.



Exactly three weeks and four days after it had started, Minerva was on her way to the tower to end it. As much as she hated to admit it, romance hadn't lived up to its promise. She had expected so much more. Where were the week knees; where the butterflies? Minerva didn't pine for Tom when he wasn't around. Pomona and Alastor were still the most important people in her life, those who made her feel warm and understood, and she hardly thought about Tom during the day. Only when it was time to meet him on top of the tower did he force himself back into the foreground of her thoughts. Then she could feel the longing. But it was a strange kind of longing, almost as if someone was pushing her. It had nothing of the sweet despair Althea Ashton experienced in The Devil in Disguise. Minerva was well aware, of course – she'd been told all too often – that it wouldn't do her any good to mistake fiction for reality. And her disappointment in romance wasn't the true reason for her decision to break up with Tom tonight.

Minerva had seen death, and she was shocked by the banality of it. The girl in the bathroom had looked like a broken doll in the middle of that puddle of water. She stared at Minerva with bulbous eyes as if accusing her of murder – but that must be a misconception arisen from the guilt the living always felt towards the dead, Minerva was quick to assure herself. She cleaned with her sleeve the Coke-bottle glasses that had been lying on the cubicle floor and put them back on the girl's nose rather than closing her eyes; a silly thing to do, she later thought. An ice-cold breeze seemed to pass right through her as she shakily rose from her knees to inform Headmaster Dippet. The worst thing was that she didn't even know the girl's name.

The horrors of the evening had confirmed Minerva's decision. She had neglected her head girl duties for too long, and now that Hogwarts faced a storm within its very walls, the time for silly romance was over. With a determined push, she opened the door to the platform.

Tom leaned on the parapet, leisurely smoking a cigarette. As he noticed Minerva in the doorway he flipped it over the balustrade and opened his arms. "Minerva. Finally," he said, the hint of a smile on his face. "I'm bored out of my mind."

Minerva couldn't help answering his smile, but she remained rooted to the spot lest her resolve should melt. "We must talk."

He looked irritated for a moment, but then his smile widened. "Words are highly inadequate to express my feelings tonight. Headmaster Dippet all but promised to let me stay at Hogwarts over the summer."

"It's over," Minerva blurted out, immediately regretting her lack of diplomacy.

"I shan't have to return to the orphanage. Not ever!" He paused. "What did you just say?"

"Listen, Tom, I didn't make this decision easily." She took a step in his direction to assure him that she still cared. "It's only that, with my duties as head girl, and the N.E.W.T.s coming up ... I simply don't have the time, don't you see? And in a situation like this …" Her voice trailed off.

While she was still searching for the right words to say to ease the situation for both of them, Tom had sneaked up to her. He took her hand and led her to the balustrade. "Isn't it beautiful?" He pointed in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, where a single light from the gamekeeper's hut marked the doorway to adventure. His finger moved over the main entrance gates, the Quidditch pitch, the gargoyles on the roof, and finally stopped, pointing at the Headmaster's Tower.

"This summer I'll be King of Hogwarts. And you could join me as my Queen." He squeezed her hand, and there was a strange red gleam in his eyes.

Tom's childishness charmed Minerva, and for a second she saw the two of them on matching thrones on the dais in the Great Hall, ruling over wizardkind. The image dissolved as Tom lowered his head to kiss her. Minerva opened her lips to protest, but Tom's tongue was faster than her words. It was an incredible feeling, her whole body tingling with pleasure, and involuntarily she pressed herself closer to him. She only remembered her resolution when the metal clasp of her bra scratched against her back.

"I told you it's over!" Her voice sounded too shrill to her ears, and she pushed him away rather more forcefully than absolutely necessary.

"Why?" he asked, looking puzzled as he regained his balance. "You're the cleverest witch I've ever met. We're perfect for each other!"

"I don't know about that." His words distracted her momentarily. That Tom first and foremost should be attracted to her intellect was flattering, certainly, but it left a bad taste in her mouth. She bit her lips and quickly pushed aside the nagging insecurities about her looks before she continued in a determined voice.

"I can't go on like this when our world is breaking apart. You must have heard of the dead girl in the bathroom. Myrtle Pond." She knew her name now and would always remember it.

"What about her?" He had stopped smiling and stood very erect, almost as if expecting a blow.

"A student has been murdered, don't you understand what this means?"

"What do you think it means?" he said in a very quiet voice.

She shook her head. His indifference annoyed her, and she hardly knew what to say. Didn't he see that everything had been turned upside down in the few seconds it took to cast a deadly spell? She didn't believe the rumours she had heard. Man was the worst monster of all, and the fact that she had to learn this bitter truth now, while still at school, clearly showed that their childhood world had been destroyed once and forever. Hogwarts wasn't safe any longer.

She blinked back a tear. "Chaos," she finally said. "It means chaos. Already people are starting to spread the wildest rumours. A ridiculous tale about a monster in the Chamber of Secrets, set loose by the Heir of Slytherin. Have you heard about it?"

He nodded once, looking grim and angry. And she couldn't really blame him for his anger. As always, his House would be at the centre of suspicions.

"Headmaster Dippet has informed the governors and the Ministry. There will be questionings. Soon no one will know who to trust any longer. Which is only natural. I mean …" She shivered. "We have a murderer among us."

"And all this fuss because of a stupid Mudblood!"

She turned away in disgust. Had the circumstances been different she would have dressed him down for his use of foul language, but at this very moment she realized that she didn't care what Tom said or did any longer. He had shown his true colours at last. He was a Slytherin to the core, and Minerva wasn't a fool; some of the things they said about that House had to be true. She was only relieved now that romance hadn't worked out for her. When she turned back in the doorway to say a final good-bye, she saw that he had his wand directed at her.

"Sweet Merlin, Tom," she said exasperatedly. "Don't be such a child! What do you want to hex me with? Boils? Green hair? Rabbit teeth?"

She didn't go for her wand but stretched out her empty hands instead. "Come on, do it. If it makes you feel better."

Tom was ghostly pale, and his wand shook in his hand. The tip sizzled with purple sparks. All of a sudden Minerva was afraid that she had misjudged him, that he would hex her after all. And with something far worse than ugly dentition. She held herself very stiff and erect, never losing eye contact. She mustn't show fear, or otherwise, she was certain, Tom would attack.

After a long silence in which none of them blinked so much as an eyelid, the crisis was over. With a cry of rage, Tom pointed his wand at the clouds and bombarded them with a stream of purple fire.



The first flash of lightning surprised her as she hurried through the small courtyard at the base of the tower. When she crossed the pumpkin patch behind Greenhouse Two it had already started to rain. Minerva had always found it preposterous that in novels lightning storms only seemed to exist either to give an excuse for the heroine seeking shelter or to mirror her emotions.

"Yes, I am very angry," she addressed the thunder that growled in the distance.

"And I'm also really confused," she told the stroke of lightning that branched across the sky.

"And terribly sad," she admitted to the rain.

"And nothing of this has to do with you. You're just thunder, and lightning, and rain. Of no significance to my life." She listened to the storm raging around her and took comfort in its indifference. She would seek shelter now. Not to find solace in the arms of a tall-dark-handsome stranger, however.

Pomona was fast asleep behind a stack of broken flowerpots. The secluded spot at the end of the greenhouse, concealed by Giant Fanged Geraniums and Devil's Snare, served as their secret hideout since second year when they had vowed to be best friends forever and sealed the pact with drops of their blood.

Minerva was too upset to heed the plants, and so the inevitable happened. Entangled by Devil's Snare, she found herself face to flower with a Giant Geranium, fangs dripping with mucilage. "Pomona," she called, unable to move a limb lest the Devil's Snare should choke her. "Pomona!"

Her best friend rubbed her eyes and started to laugh. "Tell me why this happens again and again?" Taking pity on Minerva, she placated the Geranium with one of the raw eggs that she stashed here for exactly that purpose. "Careful," she admonished as she helped to disentangle Minerva, "don't hurt the Snare!"

Pomona grew immediately serious as she took in Minerva's state. "But you're completely soaked! Why, for Circe's sake, didn't you use Impervius?"

Dodging several drought charms and heating spells that Pomona hurled at her in no particular order, Minerva hid behind the flowerpots where she quickly undressed and crawled under a warm blanket.

Pomona picked up Minerva's robes, panties, and bra, drying and folding them before joining Minerva under the blanket. "So he didn't take it well, did he? Tom?"

"Tom Riddle is a conceited ass. He isn't worth another thought." Minerva closed her eyes, willing to the background of her thoughts the horrible images of the day. Tomorrow she would endeavour to be a better head girl, someone who could actually be of help to the school in a crisis like this; for now she only needed rest.

A crash of thunder shook the greenhouse with such force that the glass panes rattled in their frames. Minerva took Pomona's hand in hers, nothing but a small gesture to assure her best friend that Hogwarts was still safe for them when they were together. But then Pomona snuggled closer under the blanket and said into the sudden silence, "I'm glad it didn't work out with Tom. I don't like him very much."

Pomona's words as well as the fire in her voice took Minerva by surprise. Pomona had never uttered so much as a single word of criticism of the fact that Minerva was going out with a Slytherin. She hadn't seemed interested in Tom at all. And now it sounded as if she had hated him all along.

It stung like a betrayal. Pomona could have warned Minerva about Tom's character, but obviously she didn't care enough for her friend to bother. Fussing over the stupid plants or raiding the kitchens always took priority over her friendship for Minerva.

Minerva jerked away from Pomona and sat up. A flash of lightning illuminated the greenhouse and showed her Pomona's face. Pomona's eyes were wide open. She looked terrified, but Minerva knew for certain that thunderstorms didn't frighten her.

Another crack of thunder. The storm electrified Minerva. It ran through her veins like fire and made her hair stand on end. She could feel it now, the longing. She was convinced that she would burst into tiny particles if she didn't get what she wanted. But what did she want? She pushed the blanket away and moved her hands over her naked skin to find out.

Lightning revealed Pomona's face. So very close and still terrified. Minerva opened her lips, but she couldn't speak.

When Pomona kissed her, Minerva knew that she had wanted this for a very long time. But it wasn't enough, not tonight. Minerva needed more, and the thunder and the lightning lured her deeper and deeper into the abyss.

The storm raged on. When Minerva closed her eyes she could see Tom on the tower. An evil grin formed on his lips as he stretched out a hand and beckoned her to join him.



1998

The window was wide open to let in the night air. Thunder grumbled in the distance and lightning forked over the Forbidden Forest. Minerva continued leisurely to caress Pomona's breasts, teasing one nipple between her thumb and forefinger while sucking the other into her mouth. She didn't mind the weather tonight. Tom Riddle was dead, and a curse died with its caster. Minerva was finally free.

To celebrate her freedom, she would show Pomona how much she loved her, trying to make amends for all the stormy nights that had haunted their relationship. For her betrayal.

Minerva had never told Pomona about the frequent Pensieve consultations and her suspicions that Tom had cursed her on their first date. By telling her this she would also have had to admit that Tom's curse was the true reason behind their frantic love making that first night in the greenhouse. And Minerva could never do that. Pomona must never know that their relationship was founded on the malevolence of a teenage megalomaniac.

'What will it be tonight?" Minerva asked playfully, her head resting on Pomona's thigh. "Courgette or corn cob?" The vegetable shaped dildos had been a gift for their fiftieth anniversary. Wilhelmina had meant them as a joke, but Minerva and Pomona had immediately liked the different shapes and textures. The corn cob was Pomona's favourite while the curved cucumber was reserved for Minerva.

Removing her hand from Minerva's head where it had been busy with hairpins, Pomona pointed at the window. "Methinks it's cucumber night tonight."

It had started to rain. The gargoyles were amusing themselves by spouting water at one another, and thunder and lightning had moved considerably closer. A shiver ran down Minerva's spine. The sights and sounds of the storm unnerved her and she rose to close the window.

Pomona caught her hand. "Why don't you leave it open?" She caressed Minerva's naked buttocks, slipping a finger between her thighs. "Whether you shut the storm out or not, it will drive you wild anyway. And I love to see your face illuminated by lightning. You're yourself like the storm, just as breathtakingly beautiful and intense."

Minerva barely heard what Pomona said; her attention was split between Pomona's tantalising finger and the storm outside. She took a step backwards closer to Pomona, willing her to intensify her touch. But Pomona only continued to circle Minerva's labia, steadfastly refusing to take notice of her clit.

A thunderbolt startled Minerva and she stumbled another step backwards. Pomona steadied her with her hands, pressing a kiss to her gluteus maximus. Then she slowly turned her around.

Pomona smiled up at Minerva. Despite the wrinkles and the grey hair she looked exactly like the girl Minerva had first met about sixty years ago. "What do you want me to do?" Pomona asked, her face full of mischief as if she was about to set out for another raid to the kitchens.

"Fuck me!" Minerva wanted to shout as another clash of thunder made goosebumps rise on her skin. But she could never be so blunt, not even under the influence of the storm. Secretly, Minerva envied the younger women who could, even if they didn't seem to understand where such language was appropriate and where not. "Do with me whatever you want," she finally said.

"I could use someone to water the Honking Daffodils," Pomona teased. "You, naked, in a sea of golden daffodils, it would be a sight to behold."

"Never mind the honking," Minerva said drily, but then lightning struck and she pushed Pomona's head between her legs.

Manoeuvring Minerva to the bed, Pomona motioned her to sit down. Minerva opened her legs wide as Pomona knelt in front of her and finally, finally paid some attention to her clit.

Outside, the storm was raging. Minerva couldn't distinguish any longer between the bolts of lightning that threatened to strike the roof, causing the gargoyles to jump in all directions so as not to be blown to smithereens, and the turmoil that raged inside her. Nothing had changed at all. The thunder and the lightning affected her just as they always did.

Then, only a heartbeat away from orgasm, Minerva had a sudden, blinding realization: There had never been a curse. Whatever Tom had done to her that night in the storm – and Minerva would never find out; the Pensieve kept its silence as the proverbial grave – it had nothing to do with the arousal she felt when exposed to thunder and lightning. That wild, sex-crazy person she hardly recognised – that was she, well and truly she, Minerva McGonagall. And she alone had the power to accept who she was or to change it. It was a thought as liberating as it was frightening.

Orgasm had slid away now, and Minerva caressed Pomona's hair.

"Something wrong?" Pomona's face glistened with Minerva's juices, and Minerva longed to taste herself on her lover's lips.

She shook her head. "I want to kiss you, that's all."

They lay side by side, kissing for a very long time. Unnoticed, the storm outside had calmed, but Minerva's arousal was still strong.

"What else do you want?" Pomona whispered into the silence.

"Fuck me," Minerva whispered back. And Pomona did.