This is my response to Mew-tsubaki's challenge and it is an MM/HG femmeslash set immediately after the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts. It is also a response to day 20 of Sinistra Black's "Sheherazad" challenge, 'Epilogue? What Epilogue?' because I hate, hate, hate Hermione/Ron.
OoOoO
"The loving are the daring." –Bayard Taylor
Hermione Granger could not pinpoint the exact moment at which she had fallen in love, but that made her no less certain of her feelings. Increasingly during her sixth year Hermione had found herself dwelling upon Minerva McGonagall- a woman who at the time had been her professor and ever since had remained a steadfast friend- and with increasing intensity she had wondered what it would be like to share a kiss with Minerva, to be able to hold her when she was sad or to share in her laughter when she was happy, and Hermione would give anything to know that she was happy.
During the bleakest moments of the months she, Harry and Ron had spent searching for the remaining horcruxes, when her hope and confidence had wavered, Hermione remembered the tranquil afternoons she had spent during the previous year reading or talking quietly with Minerva. Every day she had woken up cold and aching on the floor of her tent, Hermione had remembered the conviction with which Minerva had spoken, the intelligence in those magnificent green eyes, and the ironic curve of her mouth that denoted amusement, a subtle gesture which so many failed to notice, and had known that if anything was worth fighting for it was Minerva McGonagall. No matter how tired of fraught she became, Hermione found that reflecting upon the older witch made their herculean task seem a bearable burden.
Now the fighting was over and Hermione could scarcely bring herself to believe it. She watched as the aurors rounded up and escorted the remaining Death Eaters from the school premises, a breeze blowing the softly curled tendrils of her hair into her face. The price of their victory had been high. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold. She stared into the depths of the lake, not ready to return to the hall; Tonks, so bubbly and animated in life, would be lying there like a statue. Fred would be completely silent, and he would never laugh again. What would George do without his twin? It could never have been said that Hermione felt any fondness for Crabbe, but he had died with so little of his life lived: he would never find love, find a fulfilling career, or achieve his dreams, whatever they may have been...
A tentative hand on Hermione's shoulder caused her to jump and she lost her train of thought. Arthur Weasley smiled thinly, the recent loss of his son dulling his kindly brown eyes. He hesitated for a moment, looking older and more lost than Hermione could recall having seen, before speaking.
"Hermione... you've been standing out here for over an hour now, dear. Come back inside. Molly- we're all worried about you. You've always been as good as family, and now..." He trailed off awkwardly, running a hand through his greying ginger hair. Whether he referred to the death of Fred or her rejection of Ron's advances before the battle, Hermione couldn't be sure.
"Alright, Mr Weasley." She followed him across the grass upon which so many children had lounged in the warmer months, grass that was now soaked with spatters of blood. It was strange thinking of Hogwarts, a school, a place of peace and education, as a battlefield.
And what of Minerva? Surely Hermione would have heard if anything had happened to the transfigurations professor considering the role she had played in the war, but up until now she had been too afraid to ask. A lump grew in her throat as they approached the double doors of the great hall. There was no way she could go on if Minerva was lying on one of the tables.
"Mr Weasley, wait!" Horribly uneven, her voice echoed around the hall. He looked at her sympathetically. "I- What about Professor McGonagall; is she alright?"
Arthur's eyes widened in faint surprise, but quickly he recovered himself.
"She's fine, yes. Someone caught her with a nasty slicing hex, but she's back on her feet, as you'd expect from Minerva. She's upstairs just now, talking with the poor Creevey boy's parents." Unaware of the magnitude of Hermione's relief and gratitude, Arthur led her into the hall and towards the other Weasleys. Harry was sat a little farther along the table, surrounded by a swarm of people. He gave a feeble wave as she passed and Hermione attempted to smile, but hearing Ginny's sobs she found that it was impossible. The youngest Weasley was wrapped in the arms of her mother, and the others sat solemnly in a protective ring around Fred's body. Molly's face was drawn, and her eyes red. Hesitantly, Hermione sat beside her best friend who wished to be more.
"Are you alright Ron?" She slid her hand across the bench until it came into contact with his and squeezed. Ron returned the slight pressure and nodded, but said nothing in response. What was there to say? They waited, keeping vigil until the ministry officials would come to collect Fred's body.
After a while, Fleur appeared as pale as a ghost, supporting a grimacing Bill as he came to see his younger brother for a final time. To Hermione's surprise, Mrs Weasley rounded the table and wrapped the French witch in a swift hug. Molly then approached her and Hermione couldn't help but long for her own mother, far away in Australia, as she received her own embrace.
"Thank you for staying with us, Hermione. It would have meant a lot to- to Fred." Although her eyes were overly bright, Molly remained composed. In that moment Hermione knew that her lack of romantic feelings for Ron would not count against her with the Weasley family and was thankful.
"Of course, Mrs Weasley." Hermione was about to sit back down when Molly moved away, but the sound of the doors swinging open attracted her attention. Transfixed, she watched as Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, walked towards them with her usual poise and authority.
During the battle, she had glimpsed Minerva only fleetingly as she had duelled with Bellatrix. The fury with which Minerva had fought had been reassuring enough for Hermione to continue on her way, but ever since that moment she had felt a growing panic that Minerva had been killed. Now she saw it was not so, Hermione couldn't help but shed a few tears of relief. They had not spoken in person for almost a year, but their sporadic written correspondence had allowed Hermione to remain hopeful. When Minerva stopped by Mr and Mrs Weasley, Hermione fought the overwhelming urge to leap to her feet and wrap Minerva in her arms. No matter how close they had become, it was doubtful that the older witch possessed the same inclination towards her.
She observed the exchange between Arthur, Molly and Minerva, not taking in a word of what was said, instead taking in the sight of the woman she had grown to love. Perhaps it was illogical, but the feelings Minerva's arrival had evoked in her were like nothing Hermione had ever experienced. Minerva was clearly exhausted, and judging by the hardened set of her mouth she was in considerable discomfort. Had Minerva actually been to the healers? Ever since the battle had ended, her stern professor had been overseeing the repairs to the most major damages done to the castle, speaking to the loved ones of those who had perished and speaking to numerous ministry employees over what was to be done next. It seemed highly unlikely that Minerva had prioritised her own wellbeing.
The conversation drew to a close, and Professor McGonagall came to stand before her. As she looked up, Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
"Miss Granger..." There was a pause, and the grim expression on Minerva's features softened almost imperceptibly. "Hermione, I am glad to see that you are well."
"You too..." Cursing herself, Hermione knew that no matter how articulate she was she didn't know how to express the millions of thoughts and feelings caused by Minerva McGonagall. The professor nodded and turned on her heel. Nobody paid attention to Hermione as she stood and followed the headmistress from the hall. Minerva raised an eyebrow but did not pass comment.
"Minerva, where are we going?" Hermione had expected them to go to Minerva's office or back outside to meet with one of Kingsley's team of workers, but instead they were going down into the lower levels of the castle.
"The kitchens- I must check to see if the elves have thought to send food to those in the hospital wing." Her body radiated tiredness, yet Minerva's posture remained perfectly upright. Shocked, Hermione grasped her hand and ceased walking, forcing the professor to do the same.
"Hermione, let go. I can't stop now-" Exasperation coloured Minerva's tone and she closed her eyes in an effort to remain calm.
"You can. The house elves have sent food everywhere! Even the aurors outside had sandwiches, the last I heard." Realising that being outwardly stubborn was only likely to agitate Minerva, she continued speaking more quietly. "You still haven't had your wound healed, and I know that you're in pain."
For a moment Minerva was completely surprised, but she quickly recovered herself. It did not go unnoticed that she placed a hand against the stone wall for support.
"How on earth do you know that?" She shook her head impatiently, causing her long black hair to shift around her shoulders. "It doesn't matter, Miss Granger."
"It really does." Hermione ignored the hurt caused by being referred to formally and continued. "Come with me. I can heal you, we can have some food together and then you can sleep, have a nice hot bath, and whatever else you need."
Minerva considered the offer and the temptation was obvious to Hermione, but she did not press the point, instead remaining silent. What should she do now? Just as she was beginning to give up hope, Minerva spoke.
"But I can't. Don't you see it? If I stop doing this then I might not be able to keep on going afterwards." Looking away, Minerva tried once again to extract her hand from Hermione's grip. Instead of letting her go, Hermione decided to do something that was potentially very foolish and wrapped Minerva in a firm, slightly uncomfortable hug. She could feel the tension in Minerva's slender body.
"I know you're strong enough to do this, but if you don't rest then you won't be able to do anything to help anyone. I wish I could tell you that everything will be fine, I really do, but do you know what? It won't. So many things have gone wrong and there is nobody, nobody, who could have changed that." Hermione tightened her hold, resisting Minerva's increasingly lacklustre attempts to wriggle free. She knew that Minerva was extremely reserved, and that this trait had erroneously given her a reputation for being cold, but Hermione knew that she had to show her that she was not alone, and this was the only way she could think of to give that message convincingly.
"He could have..." The three words were whispered so quietly that Hermione wondered if she had heard correctly. Placing her amazement to the side, she pulled back enough that she could look Minerva in the eye.
"Professor Dumbledore was a great wizard, but not even he could have saved everyone. The Potters died. Cedric died. Good people died. It wasn't his fault and he couldn't have done anything about it." Hermione prepared to hold on more tightly in case Minerva tried to get away again, but the older witch only placed her head against Hermione's shoulder.
"Do you honestly believe that?" There was vulnerability in those words that made Hermione's heart ache. It seemed ludicrous that nobody had offered Minerva the support that she clearly needed.
"Of course I do, and so should you." Growing bolder, Hermione caressed soothing patterns up and down Minerva's back. Much to her satisfaction, the tension slowly went from Minerva's shoulders. "Now let me take you to your rooms."
"I think that would be prudent, Hermione." It was a sign of how much the proceedings of the past two days had taken from Minerva that she did not raise any more arguments. "Could you... would you please apparate us there? I'll shift the wards."
The request surprised Hermione greatly, but she knew better than to comment. She closed her eyes and pictured the rooms that she had spent every desperate moment envisioning during the previous year and summoned her magic.
Minerva's quarters were not a great deal different from when Hermione had last set foot in them, the familiar mahogany furniture and MacKintosh decor bringing back memories of simpler times, and the only sign that Minerva had left in a hurry was a half full teacup and a book lying open on the coffee table. Hermione eased her companion onto one of the comfortable couches and went to the bathroom in search of medicinal potions. The contents of the cabinet were neatly arranged and so it was without any real difficulty that Hermione found a pain relief potion and some balm for disinfecting it.
Minerva stared determinedly ahead as she unbuttoned her robes. The torn white blouse underneath was covered with dried blood- so much that Hermione felt frightened. Before Minerva could protest, she had unbuttoned it and pushed the fabric aside.
"Drink this." She pressed the phial into Minerva's hand and set about healing the gash that spread from her shoulder to her waist. It was a difficult process, cleansing and healing, and it sapped at the last of Hermione's strength, but she was determined not to complain. It wasn't as though Minerva would ask for anyone's help, even though she clearly needed it. Her patient was uncharacteristically quiet.
Flicking her wand to send the various potions back to their correct places, Hermione saw that Minerva was fast asleep. She looked more peaceful than Hermione had felt in a long time. One of Minerva's hands had fallen from its place on the armrest, and so Hermione clasped it between her own before she could consider the significance of such an action. She waited. It was utterly peaceful here - the safe haven of her dreams - and the only sound filling the room was Minerva's gentle breathing.
Hermione rested her head against the edge of the sofa and allowed herself to be cocooned in the calm atmosphere and, for the first time in almost a year, relax.
OoOoO
Thanks for reading. Please review.