Chapter 2

"Minerva?" Hermione questioned, sitting down onto the edge of the Animagus' hospital bed. She carefully gathered the elder professor's hand within both of her own, momentarily shocked at the coldness of the touch. She quietly rubbed Minerva's hand between her own for a bit to warm it, then reached over to take its twin, which rested upon the sheet and repeated what she'd done to the other hand to this one.

She then carefully held both of the elder witch's hands in her warmer ones, eyeing the pallor of the face that had never looked any older than then. Bruises under the shut teal green eyes, now that the Glamor Charm had been lifted, showed the lack of sleep the professor must have had over the months while doing all in her power to keep the pupils and Hogwarts safe even with Snape reigning and two Death Eaters misusing their power in professor positions. Snape might have been on their side in the end, but it did matter little to change the fact that Hogwarts had no longer been so safe and peaceful as it once maybe might have been. It did little to change the fact that Minerva McGonagall had aged at least ten years in the period of one – especially emotionally. What with having lost her best companion and never even having had time to grieve. There had only been time to fight…

Minerva's pale red lips were lightly parted, Hermione's eyes caught upon eyeing the elder witch more carefully. Hermione sighed. Poppy had taken her wounded Head of Gryffindor House over to St. Mungo's immediately once she had gotten to stabilize her. Some other survivors with more serious injuries had been taken there afterward as well, while others had been patched up by the Matron with the little of means available after the better piece of the infirmary had been blown away as well in battle. Hogwarts had overall been turned into a ruin of what it once had been prior to the existence of the selfish, power obsessed Tom Riddle. Prior to the decease of the best Headmaster Hogwarts had known: Albus Dumbledore. Hermione momentarily smiled. Once Minerva was on her feet again, and once Hogwarts had been rebuilt, Minerva McGonagall too would be a wonderful Headmistress. Dumbledore would meet his match. With all the rumors flying about concerning the both of them, maybe the Headmaster and his Deputy had already met their match within one another personally as well. Hermione somehow couldn't actually believe that more ever had existed between the woman in the bed and the deceased Headmaster but companionship, although she never would deny the depth that must have founded it. She would possibly never know, nor the reason of their powerful foundation.

Sadness immediately overtook Hermione's features again upon seeing the elder witch lie there so brokenly and weak. It would be a while until Minerva was on her feet again and well enough to lead her life again, let alone a school. She had lived through three Wizarding Wars, having fought in all. She had lost a lot and many. She had had to endure so much… Hermione intuitively knew that although not many scars were any longer visible on the surface of the milky white skin, innumerable must lay beyond, within the elder woman's heart and soul. She would have to carry them for the rest of her life – possibly alone, for Hermione seriously doubted Minerva ever had confided in anyone else. Maybe Dumbledore… He wasn't there anymore, though. He couldn't aid her in carrying her burden anymore.

She had been there for two days now without having woken, while the ones that had been lesser injured had aided Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout – who both had taken charge of everything with Minerva no longer there to do it – in reconciling the living with their families and informing the loved ones of the fallen… It hadn't been easy to do, but it had had to happen eventually either way.

In between helping to arrange the funerals of the Order of the Phoenix members that had fallen in the battle, like Remus and Tonks, Hermione hadn't forgotten about her old Transfiguration Professor. Minerva McGonagall had often been her light, even though it might have been unconsciously, when showing the strength and bravery she merely hoped to once possess. She now sought it again, but couldn't find it.

Tears threatened to roll rapidly down her cheeks, and she intuitively sniffled to keep them at bay. She slowly bowed her head when she no longer had any power left to hide the tears and cried. The war might have been over and won, but the scars would remain forever, and she quietly wondered if ever there would be something like happiness again. Minerva obviously had been able to fight and obtain it twice earlier. She really wished she could do the same…

"…'Mione?"

Hermione immediately raised her tear streaked face to look into the teal green eyes of Minerva McGonagall. "You've awoken," she said, somewhat incredulously.

"I have," Minerva said, unable to show even the ghost of a smile. She groaned when she tried to resettle on the bed and immediately fell back in the pillows, too weak to move more.

"You're in pain," Hermione said. "I should get the nurse."

"No. Please," Minerva began, interrupting herself with a rather loud wince when she hopelessly tried to move her leg. Hermione eyed her only more worriedly than earlier, seeing the pain vividly reflected in the green of the elder Gryffindor's eyes. "Please, give me… a couple of minutes. I'm not quite ready to be poked everywhere yet."

Hermione chuckled, louder than she actually had in months, at the wit of the older woman she had so missed. She then laid her head down on the other woman's shoulder, uneasily pulling her in what must have been an embrace. "I'm so happy you're awake," Hermione uttered and began sobbing once again. "I don't know what I would have done had I lost you, too…" Minerva winced again, muffling the sound by biting down on her lip, as she slowly pulled one arm around the younger Gryffindor's shaking frame.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said. It wasn't as if she even could upon getting the chance either way…