"And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me
And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go, promise I'm going because
I gotta get outta here
I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake
I gotta get outta here And I'm begging you,
I'm begging you,
I'm begging you to be my escape."
-Relient K, Be My Escape
Chapter 4
When the young girl awoke, she had no pain. All the aches and creaks seemed to disappear from her joints, bones, and muscles, and she felt like she could run a mile. She lacked the exhaustion she had been expecting. She cleared her throat and Madam Pomfrey came over, smiling.
"It's wonderful to see you up, my dear. You may get up and shower if you wish. Just please let me run the last few tests. It is standard procedure before I can release you," her old, kind face wrinkled with pleasure as Hermione patiently put up with every of her demands. "Breath deeply, scoot forward, roll over, does this hurt?" It was the usual. She passed every test. She hadn't broken her record so far, and she would be damned if a few reflex tests would end it.
Madam Pomfrey was happy with the results and she released her from the Hospital Wing, sending her into the showers with her Muggle clothes. Hermione could never have been more thankful for her old, baggy sweatshirt and her soft, but formfitting jeans. She scrubbed her body again, trying to scrub the oil from sitting for three days off her skin. She tried not to notice the pink, puckered raised lines that covered her once blemish-free skin. Seeing them was like seeing ugly, but expensive and admirable badges of honor. They would serve as a permanent reminder of her past and her sacrifices.
When she got out, she looked positively radiant, despite the scars she had hidden so well. Her skin once again held a healthy glow, her hair shone, and her eyes were clear. She thanked the hospital maid one last time and left without a backward glance.
The first place she was headed was the Gryffindor Common Room, knowing she'd find Ron and Harry there. Sure enough, her two best friends were waiting. She giggled when they attacked her with hugs and praise of how good she looked upright. It was good to be back where she belonged.
"So tell me boys. What's been going on since I've been incapacitated?" she asked teasingly, her light brown eyes light and carefree for the first time in a long time. They were all happy to see her back to her normal Hermione.
"Well… There's been a lot of hugging and crying. But also laughing and smiling. It's very weird. Almost like people can't understand what they're feeling," Ron said, looking confused. Hermione laughed again, emotions had never been his strong point.
"Oh Lord, Ron, we just had a war for Heaven's sake! Of course people are in a state of emotional distress! You would too if you could actually feel something," she said, rolling her eyes. Harry snickered.
"Now tell me from your point of view, Harry. Perhaps I'll get a better answer out of you," she said, turning to her other best friend. His green-eyed gaze was very pleasant, and very, very relieved.
"Well. McGonagall's Headmistress again, and they've got a Potions position open, currently anyway. I hear they're holding off the job offers 'till they know what's going on with Snape. There's going to be a celebratory ball in a few weeks, you need to get a date by the way, and that's about it. There are…funerals and memorial services being arranged, so you'll need to get something to wear, and a date. You haven't really missed much 'Mione. No worries," he said, filling her in on the practical things: the things she wanted to hear about.
"Thanks, Harry. Ronald. I think I'm going to talk to Professor McGonagall for a minute. I'll see you two at dinner," she kissed both on the cheek and walked to the Head Girl room, where she knew her clothes would be. She changed quickly into something more professional: a white, button up shirt, and her Gryffindor sweater vest over it. She couldn't bring herself to take off her favorite jeans.
Hermione Granger walked proudly through the corridors, her head held high. She head the whispers of awe and the fingers being pointed at her. She couldn't resist a giggle at the irony: normally they would be fingers pointing to tease, now they were fingers pointing to be in reverence.
She reached the statue and politely asked, "May I go up to see Professor McGonagall. I have something I wish to speak to her about." The statue groaned and welcomed her into the study, which was furnished differently than when Dumbledore was in charge. It now had a homier feel to it, with warmer colors and a very comfy looking chair. There was a stained glass window behind the Headmistresses chair of a rearing lion. Hermione smiled: nothing fit the fiery woman better.
She arrived a moment later, in her classic tartan cloak, "Oh goodness, Hermione! There you are! I'm so glad to see you up! I was just coming to visit you, but you beat me to it!" Hermione smiled and hugged the professor, who stood shocked for a moment, before returning the affection.
"I couldn't wait to talk to you Professor. I only waited to talk to Harry and Ron and then I came straight here. I…erm…was wondering if I could discuss something?" Her brown eyes were impossibly hopeful, and anyone in their right might couldn't have turned her down.
"Of course, of course!" McGonagall exclaimed as she ushered her to the red sofa in front of the roaring fire. She summoned two teas and motioned for Hermione to sit.
Hermione spoke first, "Professor, as you well know, I didn't finish my N.E. last year since I was…away. I would like your permission to finish them and hopefully return here to teach," she spoke the last part in a rush, fearing her favorite professor's reaction momentarily. Her worries were calmed however, when the dear lady smiled happily.
"That's wonderful, Hermione, though I hardly think you need your N.E. to get into a University. I'm fairly certain any one of them would be honored to have you as their student. And as to the matter of your teaching credential, I believe I could arrange for any one of our professors to take you on as an apprentice. You could receive it that way if you wished," Minerva McGonagall was very pleased with her young Gryffindor. Though she'd never admit it to anyone but herself and the other teachers, she had had a soft spot for Hermione Granger the first moment she had walked through the opening gates of Hogwarts.
The young girls eyes lit up and she resisted the urge to hug the woman in front of her again, "Professor! That would be wonderful!" She gushed every word, literally too excited for her own good.
"Goodness gracious my dear! Never have I seen anyone so happy," McGonagall got out of her chair and retrieved a packet from her desk. It wasn't an extremely large packet, but it was heavy with stiff parchment.
"This is your contract. Read and sign away. It requires you take your N.E. and courses, but other than that you are free to become an apprentice of your choosing. It is based on your Masters, so once you decide that, you decide who you're apprenticing!" McGonagall finished with a flourish of her bony, arthritic hand. Hermione giggled at the shocking difference between the severe, hair-in-a-tight-bun, and the one standing before her, speaking with fire and life. One thought entered her mind. War changes people.
"Can I sign it now, Professor?" Hermione asked delicately, wanting to wring her hands in apprehension. The thick parchment was clutched between them, and she couldn't seem to get it to bend the way she wanted.
The professor looked momentarily taken aback and chose her words very carefully, "You are certain a teaching profession here is one you want? It means long hours during the year, but it will also be very rewarding. I only want you to sign that contract if you are certain Miss Gr-Hermione." She slipped up only because she felt like she was lecturing the poor girl.
Hermione stood proudly up to her full height and said with a voice that left no room for argument, "I'm positive, Professor. There's nothing I would rather do in my life than be a teacher here."
McGonagall smiled, relieving the tension in the room, "Very well then, Hermione," she Summoned a quill and ink block, "Sign away."
Hermione nearly grabbed the pen from the gentle hands that held it and signed quickly, not knowing that in the next four years, that signing would change her life drastically.
