It had taken a little over half an hour before Hermione could see Minerva's features relax. "Did the potion start to work now?" Hermione asked knowingly. They hadn't talked a lot since Ella was in to check on her patient. Minerva was drifting in and out of sleep ever since.
"Yes, it did," the pale woman replied weakly. She didn't try to smile. Hermione was sitting with her for long enough to know exactly how she really was and it was a comfort that for once, she didn't have to play the role of the strong Deputy Headmistress. Deputy Headmistress. Dear Merlin, she would be asked to be Headmistress. All that seemed to be too much to bear at the moment and she quickly pushed the thought away. Hermione had seen well beyond that and since she didn't have the strength to refuse the young woman's soothing presence, Minerva had allowed it. The elder witch wondered if, had the circumstances been otherwise, she would have allowed herself to see Hermione as the friend she had become.
Hermione stood and poured some water into the empty glass on the plain hospital nightstand. "That's wonderful. Now I don't feel bad about bullying you to have another sip of water."
The groan brought a smile to the girl's lips. "You are quite persistent, aren't you?" Minerva complained. It was true. Hermione had been persistent about getting fluids into her weakened friend, but she didn't feel guilty because she had Minerva's best interests at heart.
"Oh yes, you bet I am, but just remember that you can have your revenge when you're well again." Hermione winked at Minerva with a smile upon her lips, then lifted her head and helped her drink.
"I'm looking forward to it. It seems I'll have a few weeks to think of appropriate ways to torture you for being so persistent." The smile that, despite her best efforts, had pulled at her lips while delivering her point died on her lips when she saw Hermione's falter and the young woman's eyes glaze over. "Hermione?" She asked concerned.
"It's nothing," the girl lied. "Would you mind if I opened the window for a moment?"
Long years of teaching equipped Minerva with a particular feeling for the truth and she was certain that Hermione concealed it. Guilt filled her body when she realized why Hermione didn't tell her. At this very moment, she wasn't able to handle it. She was too fragile, too beaten and unstable to help Hermione through her own personal pain. She felt a lump forming in her throat and quickly shook her head, hoping that Hermione would leave her side for a few seconds to open the window.
It seemed her prayers had been answered when Hermione stood up to let some fresh air into the small room. Feeling tears form in her eyes, Minerva shut them tightly, willing the evidence of her current emotion away.
Having opened the window, Hermione closed her eyes as well, unknown to her for the same reason as her mentor. It was unexpected how forceful the memories of her encounter with Bellatrix Lestrange flooded her mind at Minerva's innocent words. Hermione knew that a time would come when she had to tell Minerva for so many a reason, one being her own sanity of mind and probably Minerva's as well. The woman had endured so much, and she deserved to know the whole story - a story the public would never hear.
A few deep breaths later, Hermione turned back to her mentor. While the fresh air was needed, it was late evening and the slight breeze that was drifting into the room was quite cold. Hermione closed the window and walked over to the bed to make sure Minerva was tugged in properly and warm enough. The dim light reflected the wet traces on the elder woman's cheek, causing Hermione to fight the urge to just give in and pour her soul out here and now. Knowing that this was not the time nor the place, she reached for the blanket and pulled it a little higher to protect Minerva from the cold. The elder witch opened her mouth, without really knowing what she could say, but Hermione was quicker and shook her head. She placed her hand against Minerva's cheek and gently wiped the damp traces away with her thumb. "You will hear it," she whispered and leaned down to place a tender kiss on the sad woman's forehead, "later." For a long moment she let her forehead rest against Minerva's, allowing them both to drew strength and comfort from the gesture.
When Hermione finally sat back down she felt that the atmosphere of the room had changed. It was not exactly uncomfortable, but a little strange. Not wanting anything to come between them, she thought of a way to get them relaxed with each other again. Taking Minerva's hand and gently letting her fingers run over the back of it, she suddenly remembered something she had wanted to do all day, but had never found the right moment for. She let go of the hand and reached into her bag for a little lilac cream jar. "May I?" She asked, showing Minerva the contents of the jar.
The elder woman rewarded her friend's thoughtfulness with a smile. "I would be grateful if you'd be able to find skin under all that sandpaper."
Minerva's little remark instantly lightened the atmosphere and Hermione laughed, and spread some cream between her hands, before taking Minerva's and gently massaging the moisturizing cream into the dry skin. It was such an anodyne feeling that the elder woman sighed contently and closed her tired eyes. Hermione truly was a blessing to her old, battered soul.
Hermione smiled softly when she saw Minerva's green eyes flutter and finally close. It was a wonderful feeling that she could give her friend this moment of peace and care. The elder woman obviously enjoyed the tender treatment and opened her eyes with a sound of protest when Hermione stopped. "I'm just moving on to your other hand," the girl assured, an amused smile on her lips. "And this is a wonderful opportunity to give you some more water."
"Hmpf, and I suppose I have to agree if I want to feel my other hand again as well?" She tried to sound stern, but it was hard to keep a straight face when Hermione smiled so sweetly.
"I've always admired you for your intelligence, Professor," Hermione teased and helped her mentor to drink. "How is the pain?" The young woman asked more seriously. "Do you need a sleeping potion tonight?"
"I'm all right at the moment. I think I'd like to try it without a sleeping potion." Minerva hated drugged sleep, but these past few days the pain was so unbearable that the mere thought of sleep was impossible.
Hermione nodded thoughtfully as she went to the other side of the bed. "If it gets bad tonight we can always get you something," she assured and started to massage Minerva's other hand. As before, the elder woman's eyes fluttered closed and Hermione carefully rubbed the cream over the palm of the slender hand, down the long, boney fingers to the fingertips. Her fingernails, which were always kept short, were a little longer than usual and Hermione wondered if Minerva ever put nail polish on them. Maybe she could suggest it to her mentor or offer to do that for her. Some vanity might feel good in a situation where you'd hardly think of yourself as beautiful. Hermione gently turned the hand and moved to take care of the back of it. Her thumbs soothingly brushed over the dry skin and stopped when Hermione saw the faint lines. She wasn't able to read the words so she unthinkingly lifted the hand a little to have a closer look.
"I must not talk back," Minerva said. The movement of her hand had alerted her to Hermione's curiosity. "When I was at school, blood quills were the normal punishment and I have endured them more than once."
"Pain has never been a good teacher," Hermione stated, remembering Harry's and her own encounters with a quill like that during the awful time with Umbridge.
"I dare say not. As you well know, I still say what needs to be said." Her mind briefly wandered back to the old grumpy teacher that had left his mark on her hand and slightly shook her head to get rid of the image.
Hermione spread some more cream onto the barely visible scars and resumed her massage. "I'm glad you do." Moments like this always reminded Hermione of the fact how little she really knew about Minerva. Every day seemed to bring forward more extracts; more surprises of a life that had already endured so much. Professor McGonagall was known to be a very private person and Hermione felt truly privileged being allowed to see so much of the woman behind the title.
A comfortable silence filled the room as Minerva allowed herself to be lulled into sleep by the tender movements on her hand.
Xxx
A moan interrupted Hermione's light slumber. She had tried to sleep in the chair beside Minerva's bed, but so far hadn't managed more than a few minutes before waking up from the uncomfortable position. Hearing another moan, Hermione took the sleeping witch's hand. "Shh… you're all right," she soothed, but Minerva got more restless with every passing second. "Minerva," she squeezed the elder woman's hand. Seeing no reaction, Hermione put her flat hand against Minerva's forehead. "Darling, wake up. You're safe here with me."
Tired green eyes blinked up at her. "Hermione," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep, "I saw him."
"Whom did you see?" Hermione asked gently, not sure how awake her friend really was.
"Albus," she answered, her vision impaired by the water gathering in her eyes. "Yesterday night when I was… gone." The first tear fell, quickly followed by another. " He was with me and he sent me back. He said it wasn't my time yet." Minerva locked eyes with Hermione, pleading with her to believe what she said.
Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek when she reached out to wipe away Minerva's. "I'm so glad you're still here with me. I'm so glad you're here."
Minerva nodded and put a shaking hand on her mouth, muffling the sound of her sobs. "I miss him so much," she cried. Her whole body shook by the force of her sobs, adding physical pain to the pain in her soul.
"I know," Hermione tried to comfort and started stroking the pained woman's face with both of her hands. "Darling, I know you miss him." Then she took Minerva's shaking hand and kissed it, before holding it against her cheek. She didn't know what else to say. She felt guilty to be so happy that Minerva was still here when the woman missed Albus so much and maybe deserved to be with him, but she couldn't help it. She deserved not to have to go through this hell road. She deserved to be carefree and happy after a life full of worries and sadness. Most of all she deserved to be loved, and Albus had most likely been one of the most important people in her life providing that. She couldn't replace him, even if she knew how deep and complicated the relationship between them had been.
Knowing that Minerva needed her close by tonight she enlarged the bed and carefully laid on her side, facing her mourning friend. "It's all right to miss him," she assured and gently took her friend's hand, "but I am so grateful he sent you back." Careful not to harm the battered woman's aching body, she shifted slightly to kiss her temple and rested her forehead against Minerva's cheek, still holding her hand. The elder witch allowed her head to lean against Hermione's, drawing comfort from the familiar scent and soft feeling of the brown hair on her skin, before sleep claimed the exhausted woman.
Many thanks to the best Beta ever!