Square One

"Ron, you can't be serious!" Oh how Hermione wished he would be in the same house so that she could hex him into the next millennium. "I don't care that something came up! You made a promise to your son, for God's sake." She took a deep, calming breath. "Yes, I had plans indeed and no, it is no date, but I'd still rather not take a five-year-old with me." Anger made way for the well known resignation. "Whatever, Ron, but you tell him."

Not caring what her soon-to-be ex-husband had to say anymore, Hermione turned around to call her son. "Hugo!"

Mere seconds later, a brown-haired little whirlwind stormed into the room. "What?"

"Daddy wants to talk to you," Hermione said and handed the phone over, hating what she would have to witness next. Sure enough, Hugo`s cute little face fell at the news.

"But you pomised," the little boy pleaded, fighting the tears that started running down his cheeks but failing. "You always say that," he tried again.

Hermione knew it wouldn't change Ronald's mind. It never had. At least Rose was at Molly and Arthur's tonight for a sleepover and didn't have to deal with yet another disappointment. Hermione briefly wondered if she should bring Hugo to them as well for the night, but when her little boy melted into her arms after being let down by his father again, Ron unsurprisingly having ended the conversation, she knew she couldn't.

"He pomised," Hugo heartbreakingly whispered, big tears hanging on his eyelashes.

"Promised," Hermione corrected automatically. "I know, my little one," Hermione hushed and pulled him in her lap as she sat them down on the couch. "I know you are sad now, but the two of us will do something very special tonight."

Hugo sniffled miserably, but his mother's promise kindled his interest. "Yeah? What?"

Xxx

"Mummy, is this right?" Hugo suspiciously eyed the huge house in front of him.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. Whatever she had expected, this was not it. "Yes, I think so."

The little boy was still not sure. "But it is so big," he objected. "Does she really live here?"

Hermione squeezed the small hand in hers. "Well, she doesn't really live here, but she has to stay here for a while until she is better."

"Why is she not with her mummy when she is ill?" Hugo couldn't imagine not being with his mummy when he was ill.

A gentle smile graced the young mother's lips as she started to explain. "Oh, darling, she is quite old. I don't think her mummy is still alive."

"And her children?" If she didn't have a mummy anymore, there surely must be children. She must at least be a mummy herself.

"As far as I know, she doesn't have any children."

Hugo looked thoughtful for a moment. "She must be sad then. I don't like this house."

Hermione sighed deeply as she absentmindedly ran her hand through Hugo's hair. "I don't like this house either, darling. Not one bit."

"I bet she is happy that we come to visit her."

"I hope so, darling. I hope so." At least one of them was confident, Hermione thought, remembering how she had ended up here.

"Neville, where is she and what's wrong with her?"

"I can't tell you, Hermione. I had to promise."

"Listen, Neville, you're a good friend, but don't think I wouldn't hex you, and I won't repeat myself." Hermione saw the sweat breaking out on Neville's forehead, and for a moment, he reminded her of the scared First Year she had known. She felt almost sorry for him. Almost.

The young professor sighed."She's not well. Three weeks ago, she just collapsed in her office and she and she hasn't been able to move the right side of her body since then. Something not right with her brain, they said."

"A stroke," Hermione murmured, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Sorry?" Neville didn't quite get what Hermione had said.

"Where is she now?"

"I honestly don't know. You'll have to ask Filius."

"I can't tell you. She doesn't want visitors and made me promise not to tell anyone."

"She is all alone. I don't care about her damn pride! She needs a friend, whether she wants to or not."

"Are you her friend? I didn't know the two of you had stayed in touch."

Hermione felt a familiar sting at Filius' words. "To be honest, we didn't stay in contact as much as I had hoped." The old wizard was right. She didn't have the right to ask questions.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Filius said, not without regret.

Hermione simply nodded and turned to leave. "Have a good day, Filius."

"Hermione," the old wizard called and waited until Hermione had turned around. "Have you been in Edinburgh lately?"

The young woman looked a little confused. "No, I haven't."

"It's a beautiful city. I recommend Leith street. From there, you have a wonderful River View." He winked at the still slightly confused woman and left. He knew Hermione was smart enough to figure it out soon.

Hermione smiled at the memory. River View Nursing Home, said the sign on the big, ugly building. Even from the outside, it looked sterile and impersonal. It was grey and at least five stories high. The walkway to the entrance was made of equally grey gravel, and there wasn't a flower in sight. No, she didn't like this building and what it represented.

xxx

Hermione took a calming breath. "I know she doesn't want visitors, but we are the exception to the rule."

The plump middle-aged nurse shook her head again. "I'm sorry, but she made it quite clear…"

Hermione was at the end of her patience. She had tried to be friendly, mostly to be a good example for Hugo, but she had spent three sleepless nights gathering her courage and trying to talk herself into coming here, and she wouldn't allow a semi-professional nurse to put an end to her efforts. "I will repeat this only once. You will tell me the room number right now or I will call the Minister and you can explain to him why you are deliberately unhelpful." Hermione hated to play this card, but sometimes it was necessary.

The nurse seemed to weigh her possibilities for a moment. "Seventy-six," she said, huffed and turned to leave without another word.

"Mummy, I don't like it here," Hugo said, moving a little closer to his mum.

"Neither do I," Hermione agreed. "I can't imagine anyone likes it here." A feeling of pity settled in the young woman's heart, and she felt sorry for all the poor people who were put in here, unable to leave and live alone.

Quietly, they walked down the bleak hallway until they hard reached number seventy-six. Hermione let go of her son's hand and after taking a deep breath, carefully opened the door. She immediately locked eyes with Minerva McGonagall. The old woman was limply lying propped up against the pillows in a bed. Her eyes widened when she registered that it was no nurse that entered her room.

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall," Hermione greeted, feeling her old professor's reluctance washing over her in waves. Hugo seemed to feel it as well, because he quite uncharacteristically hid behind his mother. "This is my son Hugo," Hermione introduced and slowly stepped into the room and pulled up a chair.

Hermione took a moment to look at her mentor and immediately noticed the slightly hanging corner of her mouth, typical for stroke victims. Leave it to Minerva McGonagall to become ill with something that is quite uncommon in the Wizarding world. A closer look at the older woman's features told Hermione that her mentor wasn't pleased at all with her visit.

"I know you don't want any visitors, but this time I decided to ignore your whishes. Professor, you've had a stroke. Your condition is nothing to be ashamed of, and I refuse to let you hide yourself away."

"no…of you..bussnes…" the old woman managed to slur. It was hard to understand, but Hermione had had some practice in the past.

Having heard the odd way the old woman was speaking, Hugo, who still stood behind his mother's chair, curiously looked at his mother. "Mummy, what is wrong with the lady?"

Still trying to get over the hurt that Minerva's words had caused, Hermione turned around to pay attention to her son. "This lady is Professor McGonagall," she explained.

"Pofessor Mäkona…" Hugo tried to repeat but gave up fairly quickly.

Not wanting to frustrate the little boy more after the debacle with his father, Hermione opted for the easy way. "Aunt Minerva".

Hugo moved to stand beside his mother's chair, carefully eying the old woman in bed. She didn't look very friendly, but then again, she was ill. "Why is Aunt Minerva speaking like this?"

Hermione sighed. She should have told Hugo a little more about Minerva before they got here, but somehow it hurt to even think about her, knowing that she was suffering like this. "Do you remember when grandpa was unwell?"

Hugo nodded. He remembered very well that his grandpa was in hospital and then in a wheelchair, speaking a little funny. "He had a stoke, right?

"A stroke, darling."

Hugo looked thoughtful for a moment, before he walked to the other side of the old woman's bed. If she was sick like his grandpa was, she must be sad, and he didn't like when people were sad. He laid his small hand on Minerva's cold, unmoving arm and looked up to her. "Don't be sad, Aunty Mina. I and Mummy is here to help you get well now. Mummy always makes me better when I'm sad."

There was a thick silence in which Minerva stared into the trusting eyes of little Hugo, and then it hit her more than ever: the horror of this disease nobody seemed to really know, the shame of being unable to move the right side of her body and being unable to talk properly, the loneliness and the overwhelming fear of what her future would be like. She covered her face with her left hand and started sobbing for the first time since she had woken up in hospital. Before Hermione could even process what was really happening, Hugo had managed to lift himself onto the bed without help, climbed over Minerva's legs and cuddled into the crying woman's side, offering her his own little bit of comfort.

I am finally back with a new story. A big hug to my wonderful beta McGonagall's Bola!