The Holy Trinity {Grace, Hannah, Mamrie} | Oneshots

Teachings {Hartsquared}

It was a complete accident. The whole thing. It wasn't as if Hannah had walked into her classroom on the first day of term, all pencils and too-blue eyes, and Mamrie couldn't keep her hands off of her.

It was much more gradual than that; it started with after school revision sessions, before progressing to 'accidentally' brushing their hands together, or holding a gaze for a second too long.

Then they began to email back and forth (even this started out innocently, with Hannah asking for past paper questions and sending the answers back for her teacher to mark), which slowly turned more and more personal. Before they knew it, they were texting at every opportunity they had, but even then nothing physical had happened.

It wasn't until Hannah had strolled into her classroom just after the final bell rang, to see Mamrie - or Miss Hart, as she called her at first - flicking through a battered copy of Dante's 'The Divine Comedy', that anything happened. She was clicking through her emails absentmindedly and muttering the poem under her breath simultaneously, struggling occasionally with the pronunciation.

"Fucking French!" She had whisper-growled.

"Fucking French indeed," Mamrie whipped her head up, startled, fully prepared to reprimand the intruder for both scaring her and cursing. She instantly relaxed when she saw the lazy grin spread across Hannah's features, "Now, please can you look over my essay? I finished it last night and I'm just not sure about my conclusion. Other than that though, I think it's alright."

"Of course, Mini Hart. Grab a chair."

They had spent half an hour in almost-silence, with the only sounds being an occasional murmur of encouragement from Mamrie and Hannah's pen scratching on the paper.

Suddenly, their eyes found each other's. It was tense and still and oh my god now they were kissing and it was great and finally-

"Take me home," Hannah whispered against her teacher-turned-lover's lips, "Take me to bed."

She could visibly see Mamrie's pupils dilate at this, and they formed a hurried plan to meet five minutes away from the school, in an area where they wouldn't be seen.

The drive back to Mamrie's place was thick with sexual tension, and neither of them dared touch each other until the redhead's front door was safely shut behind them.

Within the hour, mutual (and multiple) orgasms had been achieved, and Hannah was standing outside of her front door, wondering what the actual fuck had just happened.

~~~

They texted and sexed and sexted for months, and on Hannah's graduation day Mamrie played the role of over-the-moon-teacher-and-oh-yes-Hannah-is-my-star-student-her-Literature-skills-are-impeccable, then fucked her for two hours straight in the Janitor's closet.

Gradually, the relationship became just that, rather than a series of meaningless hook-ups. Now that she was older it wasn't illegal, just frowned upon, and neither of them minded that. Hannah moved in shortly after the year anniversary of their first sexual encounter, and began studying Literature at college.

"Even after all this time," Hannah started to murmur against Mamrie's neck one night. They were curled up on the sofa together after dinner and the older woman had just offered to look over her latest assignment, "You're still my teacher."

"Then I'd better teach you a lesson, hadn't I?" Suddenly, neither of them were sleepy. Mamrie rolled over, pressing her lover into the sofa and kissing her roughly.

~~~

As Hannah looked out upon the garden to see her wife playing tea-parties with their five year old daughter, she smiled slightly to herself.

She turned around, her eyes perusing the bookshelf until she found exactly what she was looking for.

"Dante," She half-giggled, "You are one inciting bastard."

Boy, did she like accidents.