To say that he was exhausted was an understatement. Ronald Weasley had been in a war and looked and felt that way. Hopelessly, he tried to look for Hermione among the survivors in the Great Hall, but he couldn't find her at once. He wanted to turn to Harry and Ginny to ask if maybe they knew where she was when he noticed her. He saw her holding onto the brick wall for support by the oaken doors, when her knees buckled underneath her and she sank down on them. He met Harry's gaze, and with it, confirmed the Boy Who Lived had seen her as well. They knew that she had a fair few cuts and bruises, but nothing very major had seemed to be the matter. Nonetheless, the panic he felt seemed to be reflected in Harry's green eyes. Both of them reached for her, but by the time they had taken the few steps necessary, Hermione Granger had lost her consciousness, already. She would regain consciousness when she was the last to know the reason why she had fainted to begin with. Deep emerald eyes watched from right across the hallway how Hermione just seemed to fall.
What she was aware of first as she woke was the prickly feeling she felt in her nose that intensified only as she tried to open chocolate eyes. Poppy Pomfrey was just in time to hold up a dish as she turned her head aside, then puked. She felt like death, and as she wiped her mouth and tried to roll back on her back, she caught her own reflection, in the can of water on the floor beside the stretcher she lay on, and realized that she actually looked like death just as well.
Without words, the Hogwarts matron rearranged the pillows underneath her head so that she could sit up and see that there was a cowl that shielded her from the rest of what looked and sounded like the Great Hall, the part that was least damaged of the castle. The noise, however, had quieted down a lot from what she remembered, and with a crease in-between her eyebrows, she tried to recall exactly what had happened. She had left the castle to go look for more fallen warriors of either side who had fought that night, so that they could be buried with a shred of dignity.
As she tried to focus on her surroundings, she saw Harry, Ron and Ginny sit by the stretcher on which she lay, their eyes filled with unshed tears, Ginny's face grimy. She didn't immediately realize that the other Weasleys were there until she heard Mrs. Weasley's hoarse voice cut through the noise from the rest of the Great Hall. "We do have to tell her," she said very gently.
As Hermione tried to locate from where the sound, the voice, came, she saw the rest of the Weasley family with Mrs. Weasley tucked in Mr. Weasley's arms and eyes upon the Hogwarts matron Hermione hadn't even seen move away. She frowned as the nurse nodded and turned back to her with a grave face. She began to realize. The tears of the people surrounding her were, somehow, for her. She cast her gaze up from her friends' teary faces to the matron. She felt stabs of pain to her head when she turned it. She felt like she had to vomit for a second time, but she forced the bile back with effort. "What do you have to tell me?"
Hermione Granger watched the matron take a breath before she began to speak. "You were hit with several dark curses. Right now, it doesn't matter which, but I've seen how these spells combined affect someone; I've seen it with other people before. They were very popular in the previous wars. I know what they do when combined."
"What kind of spells? What do they do?" Hermione croaked, and as she spoke, she realized that it was much harder to speak than it had been. She also felt like she could barely breathe.
"The dark spells you were hit with, when combined, are eventually lethal, Miss Granger. As I already said, they were very popular in the previous war, with Grindelwald, but lost most of their appeal after, since they're not easy to perform. The spells that you were hit with aren't immediately lethal; they are meant to make one die slowly due to irreversible organ failure. Only very close followers of Lord Voldemort would know the dark spells which hit you. Someone must have really wanted your death, if not at once."
Tears filled Hermione's eyes. She was too young to die; there were so many things she hadn't done yet. "How… How long do I have?"
"Hours, at best."
"'Mione…"
With her eyes full of tears, she shook her head at the man who would have most certainly married her. She opened her arms to hug him very tightly. She felt his tears on her left cheek and shoulder. "I love you," she said before she pulled back, and as she did, she felt how very much effort it cost her in the way her arms ached afterwards, the way she felt as if her lungs were on fire from exertion. At the end of the day, she did love him if not in the way that he loved her, like Harry and Ginny loved her and she loved them, in return. She had to spare her words for no one knew how much time she had left, exactly, and there were a few that she needed to say to the woman in the bed.
Dabbing his tears away, Ronald Weasley tried to be the man as he got up and left the hospital room. The door clicked closed once more as he joined his family in the hallway, their friends. As it fell into the lock, she heard the sounds of devastation on the other side of the thin wood. Somehow, she knew that she would never see them again, like she had never been able to see her own family and parents and say goodbye to them anymore either, even if she had not sent them away for their own safety. There were no goodbyes for her parents.
At first, disbelief had filled her when the Hogwarts matron told her about the dark spells. She was too young to die! However, she had felt within her body possibly even before she lost consciousness, already, that it was true and that there really wasn't anything anyone could do to help anymore. The state of her organs had taken a turn for the worst during her unconscious sleep a great deal already, and by the time she had woken, they had only still been working for about 40%, Poppy Pomfrey had stated after interpreting the diagnostics she had requested with a wave of her wand.
Then she had made the request that was the reason for Hermione being at St. Mungo's, and that was to see Minerva. To say that everyone had been a bit, at least, surprised to hear that request was putting it mildly, but to Hermione, it wasn't a surprise at all, as she had been in love with the Transfiguration professor since… possibly since the very first time she saw her. It hadn't been love at first, but it had been an admiration and inspiration that had even at first been hard to deny, and when she reached the age of fifteen, she had realized that she loved her. She remembered the moment very well, since it had been at the Yule Ball when she cast her gaze up from her goblet to look for Viktor or any of her friends when her eyes fell upon her Transfigurations professor, when she and Dumbledore shared a dance at the feast. Minerva's hair had, surprisingly, been down, and there had been clear sparkles in her eyes and such soft, uncommon smile upon her thin lips in soft evening light, accented by makeup she usually never did bother with, and she had moved with such elegance on the dance floor. That is when she had realized that she loved her, and that was also the exact moment she vowed to forever burry those feelings, as she was, undoubtedly, too young, too childish, to ever even dream to receive Minerva's love anyway. The situation had changed a great deal now, though, and as she had so little time left on this earth with no cure, she had quickly resolved that the last she wanted to do was at least tell the very woman she had loved in secret for so long that she, indeed, loved her. Those feelings hadn't gone away at all while they had been on the run. Those feelings had in fact flared a great deal stronger than before when seeing her former professor in the battle, her eyes set with fierceness as she protected the school and the beliefs she would always be loyal to no matter what happened. It had elicited a fluttery feeling inside Hermione's heart to get to see her just like that.
When she voiced her request, initially, Poppy Pomfrey mentioned Minerva had had a heart attack very soon after Hermione's loss of consciousness and that the highly-esteemed witch had been brought to St. Mungo's. Kindly, she had shared her great worry, too, that she wasn't sure Hermione could take the travel to St. Mungo's and live.
Hermione's friends had, upon that, shared their worries and concerns. Even if she did make the travel, it would take a great deal of Hermione's remaining time, but to Hermione it had, without doubt been worth it no matter what, if only to see the love of her life one last time before she died. Ron's tries to stay calm had failed at that point, but Harry and Ginny had held him back and shushed him, despite the fact that they had not understood the request. With that, she had felt her love for them in her heart, felt how very lucky she was to have had them as friends. With that, she had also felt the sting of the fact that no matter what happened, there wasn't time left with them. Never would she feel the joys of being truly in love with someone and be loved in return, even though she knew that she would never love anyone other than the woman in whose room she sat then. She would never marry or have children despite the fact that since she was very young, she wanted to be a mother and a grandmother in a faraway future that she wouldn't experience. She would never see the first gray hair or first wrinkle in her face.
It cost her such effort only to reach for Minerva's hand and squeeze it, and she knew, for certain, then that she would never leave Minerva's room again. The nurses had said that Minerva might not wake up. At first, they had stated that Minerva couldn't have visitors, couldn't be woken, but when Madam Pomfrey had told them of Hermione's condition, they had, not reluctantly, agreed to make the exception, however, still warning Hermione that Minerva might not wake up, as she had had heavy surgery and was in a very precarious condition. The Healers very much doubted she would make it through the night.
"Minerva…" she spoke as she squeezed harder. Every syllable spoken and movement at all cost her such effort. Most of her organs were only working for 15% anymore, Poppy had stated as they arrived at St. Mungo's, and she felt it as well. Only her will-power in her last moments and her need to tell Minerva how she felt kept Hermione Granger going at all. She felt so sick. Minerva really needed to wake up soon.
She felt herself be pulled from her deep sleep with heavenly sounds. She felt such pain, but she had to be sure she wasn't still in a dream. She fought hard to open her green eyes, but when she did she was rewarded with the sight that she thought she would find. For a long moment, she thought that it was a dream still, but as she focused more, she knew that it wasn't, and disbelief was pushed aside by a great many questions of how and why. She never would have imagined to find Hermione really there when she opened her eyes next, as she had been the last person she saw when she closed them. She had already felt the pain within her as she saw Hermione 'fall', and as Hermione fell and her friends reached for her, Minerva's own pain had become suddenly absolutely unbearable, and then… nothing, the last thought she had a wish that she would get the chance to tell Hermione something that she had vowed never to tell her from the moment she knew. Things changed the second she knew Hermione would die, though.
Why was she there when these were really her last few hours, though, and why was she not with her friends, with Ronald?
Since the very first time she had seen Hermione, Minerva McGonagall was reminded of the girl she had been herself. Minerva McGonagall felt like she herself had only ever had her mind, never beauty, whereas Hermione, unlike her, had had both, had turned in a very beautiful woman, and in the year the younger witch had been away from Hogwarts, the girl had become a woman. At first, Minerva had been a bit shocked, upon seeing Hermione again –– no more child-like features. In that one glance, right in the middle of the battle, Minerva had realized that Hermione Granger was no longer someone she could love, if only she had been a tad older… but someone she knew she could fall in love with and love with all her heart if she let herself, however young that she was, however immoral, even though she knew the younger witch could do so very much better and was so very much younger than she was.
"Minerva, I'm dying. I got hit with…" Hermione began.
Minerva felt a stab of pain at how weak Hermione's voice was, and she knew the younger woman wouldn't have much time left. She had watched her best companion die like that in the war with Grindelwald, and Minerva remembered very well how Amarinthe had died shortly after her voice had become nearly too weak to speak. She felt very weak to say the least herself, but Hermione was there of all places in her last moments, so she must have a very good reason, and Minerva would fight against the exhaustion that pulled at her to listen to her. "I know," she whispered to stop Hermione halfway –– she knew, and Hermione had to save her breath –– and as she did, she heard her own voice and how soft, nearly unintelligible, it was, too.
"How?"
"I've been in three wars, and I saw you fall. Why… are you here of all places, with me?" Minerva spoke. She had to struggle to say it all, and when she finished her sentence, she began to cough loudly yet weakly. She felt her throat ache, and she doubted she would get to tell her, but… she had to. Hermione didn't have a lot of time anymore, and they both knew. There would be no tomorrow for Hermione. She had to stay awake and say what she wanted to say after Hermione had said what she came to say. They would never get the opportunity to do so anymore soon enough. She doubted she herself would live much longer, either.
"There's something… that I've got to tell you…" Hermione managed before she felt the pang of pain deep in her lungs again. Instinctively, she reached for her ribcage with a hand, and she felt the air and the words leave her at the same time, but she had to tell her, now… "I…" she gasped.
Oh, her eyelids felt so heavy. Minerva struggled to keep her green eyes open more and more every second, failed more and more, as the dark felt so appealing, but Hermione needed to tell her something, and she had to listen… Listen, as it was important…
However, at that moment, Hermione's lungs gave up, as Minerva's green eyes fluttered closed. As Hermione's body failed, so did Minerva's heart. Words of love would never be spoken, never exchanged. They would never see the other's responses, or feel love from one another like they could have if only they had spoken up sooner. Their chance had passed them by, forever.