Chapter 7
Hermione Jean Granger sighed, throwing aside the sheets and moving to sit up in bed. She tiredly reached up, rubbing her eyes with one hand. She could barely keep her chocolate brown open, yet falling asleep appeared nearly impossible. She slowly pushed her legs over the edge of the bed and let her icy cold feet touch the floor underneath. That was something odd, too. No matter how many layers on the bed, Hermione still felt unbelievably cold. She shuddered, feeling the momentary nightly wind cross through her room from the window as she got to her feet. She intuitively wrapped her arms around herself, feeling her reaction to it. Maybe some hot milk would help in lulling her asleep. So, she quietly made her way over to the door that would lead her into the hallway with the stairs again.
She momentarily halted at the door of Minerva's room. Upon hearing nothing at all, she cautiously pushed the door further ajar to peek her way in. Minerva was facing the window, het back against the door. No sound could be heard, which gave Hermione's thought more strength: she must have fallen asleep. Hermione sighed, wishing she could have as well. She turned and quietly pulled the door nearly closed again. A cup of hot milk should do, no? Little did she know that Minerva McGonagall's teal green eyes actually were wide open. A hollow, inaudible sob escaped the elder woman's lips upon hearing the door fall shut again. A tear slipped down her eyelashes as the feeling of loneliness overcame her once more.
Hermione could have sworn she had heard something right then. She quietly shook her head, though. Likely nothing. However, on the other side of the door, Minerva could no longer contain her tears. She absolutely hated crying, but the feeling of loneliness that had settled deep into her heart, had never been so intense, and it spread through whole of her body, even to constricting her throat. She could do nothing but give in to the tears prickling in her eyes. Never had she felt so alone. And even the most fierce Gryffindor sometimes needs someone else to lean onto…
Minerva's foundations, however, had been ripped from underneath her feet not once, not twice, but up to three times. She had tried hard and succeeded in finding a new home with Torvald after the War with Grindelwald, who had taken away her family. With the death of Albus Dumbledore her very last foundation after her family and Torvald both had been taken away from her, had broken. She had somehow continued going, bearing in mind that what Albus had asked… 'Please, Minerva. Never let anyone get to Hogwarts.'
Tears rapidly cascaded down her cheeks into the pillows, recalling Albus' heartfelt request. She certainly had eyed him awkwardly at that, but Albus had easily passed her worries of what may have lead him to that question off as nothing, and like usual she had believed him without much more. Maybe just because that felt better, than allowing her mind to ponder further and come to see why; that that might have been Albus' goodbye to her in a way… She had never really replied, which she now awfully regretted… Had he known his Deputy Headmistress even just a little, he already would have known without having to hear the confirmation that she would do her best to lead Hogwarts well, like him… She momentarily shut her eyes. She sometimes asked herself the question still, if actually he knew; like Albus usually knew everything.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was now just a huge, bloody mess, though. It had nearly nothing of its unbeatable magnificence left, and thus it certainly would be a while until it had established itself in its full glory.
No, it hadn't been nothing, Hermione realized. She carefully pushed the door open further again and could now see the shoulders of her former Transfiguration Professor visibly shaking. She slowly walked over to the bed and sat.
Minerva, who had failed to register Hermione coming in, lightly shook upon feeling the mattress sink in beside her under Hermione's weight. She hopelessly tried to cover up her crying, but the warm hand coming to rest upon her shoulder didn't help anything, and she barely was aware of herself sinking into the warmth and comfort of the other's embrace. She held onto the flimsy soft blue material of the much younger Gryffindor's nightgown for dear life almost, only tightening her hold even more as Hermione carefully shifted her position, to lie beside her in the bed. "Don't… Don't leave…" Minerva managed, with a rather unusual edge of despair to her voice, stained with a thick Scottish brogue.
"I won't," Hermione whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as well upon perceiving the other woman's vulnerable state. She never had seen this side of Minerva, and part of her never wanted to see it again either… She had always been so strong, so Gryffindor… It heavily pained her to see her former Transfiguration Professor like this. "I won't," she repeated, letting Minerva's heavy head rest upon her bosom. She quietly pulled the sheet up to cover them both, and Hermione softly began humming to the lyrics in her head, to one of the songs her mother used to sing when she couldn't fall asleep when she was only little. And the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace was finally enough to let them succumb to sleep, even if only for a few hours.
