Hermione sighed deeply when they arrived home. Minerva hadn't said a word and her body language practically screamed that she wanted to be alone with her thoughts now. It was hard for Hermione not to press Minerva into talking, for it was not in Hermione's nature to be very patient, but she had done her very best so far to just keep quiet.
It was time for lunch, but Hermione had the feeling that her friend wouldn't want to eat right now. It was worth a try, though.
"Minerva, would you…?" She didn't even get to finish her sentence when Minerva interrupted her.
"I am…tied. Like…to sleep." The stern woman didn't make eye contact with Hermione, and the young witch slowly asked herself if she had done anything wrong. She contemplated asking Minerva but in the end decided against it.
"Very well," she said and pushed Minerva into her room. With practiced ease, Hermione helped her former professor into the bed. "Can I get you anything?"
The old woman slowly shook her head and closed her eyes. With a barely audible sigh, Hermione gathered her laptop and a few books from the desk. She needed to work on an article, and as Minerva seemed so keen on being left alone, she opted for the kitchen table instead of her desk. She was surprised when she registered that Minerva was trying to speak to her.
"…hat are you…doin?"
"I need to work for a while, so I'll go to the kitchen."
"You…desk is…here."
"Yes, but I don't want to disturb you. You seemed to…"
"Stay."
The request itself was more than simple. Stay. However, the message was more than a little confusing for Hermione, who was usually quite versed when it came to handling human emotions, unlike Ron, whom she had always suspect of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. Minerva's message seemed to be a mix of 'don't talk to me', 'don't look at me', 'leave me alone' and 'don't go'." Hermione smiled a little, suddenly thinking of her favorite TV show. "I am a woman, Mary. I can be as contrary as I chose." The longer she thought about it, the more she saw the alikeness between Minerva and the Dowager Countess. Yes, she would definitely watch Downton Abbey together with Minerva sometime. She was sure her former mentor would love the show. For now she just nodded and sat behind her desk. If Minerva wanted her to stay, then stay she would.
It was a good while later, maybe an hour or even two, until Minerva spoke again. Hermione had been so deep in concentration that she was a little startled at the sudden sound.
"I'm sory," the old woman apologized. "My…" There was a long pause, and Hermione could see that Minerva was trying to pronounce the word behavior, but it just wouldn't come out, no matter how hard she tried. In the end she gave up, clearly frustrated. "I was…no…nice."
Hermione quickly saved her work on the laptop and gently smiled at her friend. That woman was full of surprises. "That's alright, Minerva."
"No…alight," the stern woman argued.
Hermione stood up and moved to sit on her former professor's bedside but didn't make any contact. "Well, it is not alright, but I understand, and I am not cross with you. Is that better?"
The old witch nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, then hesitantly reached out towards Hermione, who swiftly took the delicate hand between her own and gently let her thumb run across the wrinkled skin.
"Now, I don't know about you, but I am hungry and ready for some lunch. Would you care for a sandwich as well?"
"Than…you," Minerva said and took another sip of the water Hermione had just handed her. For someone who had spent so many years in the Wizarding world, it was quite fascinating to watch Hermione work in the kitchen. They had just finished lunch, and Hermione was cleaning up a bit. It surprised Minerva that Hermione didn't use any magic at all, and she wondered if the young witch simply refrained from using magic as long as Minerva herself was unable to do so, or if she really used so little magic around the house.
Feeling Minerva's eyes in her back, Hermione turned around. "Is something wrong?"
The older woman was once again astonished at how perceptive her former charge was. "No…magic fo…cleanin?"
"Oh, well, I don't use much magic around the house. I try to teach the children to clean up after themselves, and it seems unfair if I do so by waving my wand and they have to do everything by hand." Brown eyes suddenly turned sad for a second. "I've put them through so much already; the least I can do is setting an example here."
Seeing Minerva's questioning look, Hermione sighed. "As you may have noticed, I had to take the proper family from them to safe myself. Sometimes I wonder if I was too selfish." Not wanting to have a talk like that in the kitchen, Hermione didn't give Minerva a chance to reply. "We still have some time before the children come home. Would you like to join me in the living room for tea?"
"Yes." Minerva tried to suppress the feeling of shame that wanted to settle in her soul, but she wasn't very successful. She had been so occupied with her own problems that she had simply forgotten to inquire about the absence of Ronald anymore. Every now and then, she had heard gossip about Ronald partying with other women, and there was the odd picture in the Daily Prophet, but no real scandal.
Hermione smiled mischievously when she took out her wand and sent the tea to the living room, to have her hands free for pushing Minerva. "The children aren't here, are they?"
The young woman pondered her options for a moment where Minerva would be most comfortable. Having made her decision, she enlarged the sofa to double its size. "I think this will do just fine. I'll support your back with pillows, and we'll make sure your immobile is leaning against the backrest. That way, you can't accidently slip from the sofa. What do you think?"
It was moments like this when Minerva remembered what a blessing it was to finally be with someone who could think on her feet. Noting that Hermione was waiting for her consent, she nodded. "Fine," she agreed. "If you….hel…me."
"As if that is in question," Hermione protested friendly and pushed the wheelchair into the right position for the transfer. They had done transfers from and to the wheelchair often enough to handle them smoothly. It didn't take them long to position Minerva comfortably on the sofa.
Minerva sighed contently, feeling safe leaning against the pillows. Hermione had covered her with a soft blanket and handed her a cup of tea before she had moved one of the armchairs next to the sofa so that she faced Minerva.
It was only a small victory for the elder woman to have conquered another room of the flat that was slowly beginning to feel like a home, but no matter how small, a victory it was.