Chapter 4
Applause resounded. Hermione Granger looked up at the high turrets and towers of the fabled institution that was Hogwarts, rebuilt and returned to full glory. She thought that it was amazing to see how in such a relatively limited time span, all ravage had been restored, in time for it to re-open before the new school year.
September first, just in one week, the castle would fill with pupils again to begin or complete their magical education, in order to graduate from Hogwarts like she herself never had or would, despite the fact that she had said that she would go back after the battle for her seventh, and last, year. Things had changed all too much, though, and instead of returning to Hogwarts to be confronted with what she had done, with Minerva, she instead had applied for a job at the Ministry. She just… would not be able to bear seeing Minerva every day. How could she if she barely managed to deal now with the guilt and the questions and the memories?
Despite the fact that Hermione still believed Minerva would be much better off not being with her, she had regretted her choice immediately, and the regret only seemed to grow bigger and bigger every day, while the questions grew. She saw people slowly mending about her, taking their lives slowly in hand again and finding happiness, and she was stuck there, in something that she knew couldn't make her as happy, having had what could have. Letting herself be overtaken by pain and heartache and mostly fear, she had not believed that she could ever get past what had happened during the war, even though Minerva had always made it so much better, and she hadn't wanted to do that to her. The more time passed, though, and the more she saw people about her smile, she felt more certain that what she had with Ron was not 'it' and could not make the change. The more time passed, she felt like Minerva had had that power. If anyone at all could have entirely mended her, with time, it was Minerva, and by Merlin, did she wish that she had listened when Minerva told her it would get better. By Merlin did she wish she had not panicked and just given up but given her Minerva a chance. There was no way back now, though.
Her eyes remained on Minerva as the sun above finally broke through the clouds and cast its rays on the milky white skin of her cheeks, illuminating her natural beauty like the day when they first kissed, tentatively. Hermione had worn the same dress she was wearing that day, in fact.
Truthfully, she hadn't wanted to wear it. She hadn't wanted to go to the re-opening to begin with, not wanting to see Minerva and hurt again as she had with Harry's birthday party –– at least Minerva had denied every single request of Mrs. Weasley's to attend ever since as she had worked her ass off to finish the rebuilding project. Hermione had known that she couldn't not go, though, and thus, she had showered that morning and done the effort to put on a little bit of makeup and stood before her closet to decide what to wear for a long time.
Thing was that she had lost quite a bit of weight over the past year and especially in the aftermath of the war, no matter how good Mrs. Weasley's cooking was. Very few of the dresses she owned still fit her nicely, and she had not felt up for getting replacements, nor had she felt up for fixing the measurements magically. Household spells were not something that she excelled at at all, mostly because she often preferred to do things like that manually, and she had always rather sucked at sewing for starters, whether magically or not. Sure, she could have asked Mrs. Weasley to do it for her, but she would have commented on the weight loss. The soft blue summer dress with darker blue flowers went wide from the waist on and was meant to fit the way it did. Even though it was a bit big on her as well, it didn't strike as much as it did with the others.
She had truly intended to just wear linen trousers and a nice top after long moments of doubt, but somehow, she had still decided to take the dress off of the hanger then put it on… wanting to feel a bit prettier than she was, wanting to, as crazy as it sounded, feel a bit of how she had felt the last time she had worn it, when Minerva had kissed her then. Instead of making her feel better, wearing the dress had made all of it worse from the second she put it on, and the fact that Ron had come in soon after and told her she looked very nice in it and that they had to go and that there was no time to change anymore if she wanted to and that she had been forced to leave in it, definitely hadn't helped at all.
So now there she was in a dress that reminded her of what could have been, looking upon her dream woman, one she had let go of. She wished she could feel her arms again and feel safe, but she knew she never would again, and it hurt.
Feet further, as Minerva McGonagall pulled back from an embrace with the Minister of Magic, who had just congratulated her on her hard work, emeralds fell upon her former pupil, the sun upon bushy hair and the skin her flowery dress showed. As they did, the image connected with another one… a memory that was not supposed to be there anymore… a flashback of the girl in this dress in another time and space… a soft smile and a kiss, so soft and gentle. As soon as she took it in, it was gone again… but not entirely.