Consequences of Falling
Ch. 10
To try and explain love in all of its infinite meaning was to try and dissect faith, hope, trust, and a dream – it was to try and forgo that which was tangible with the understanding that, beyond all physical properties, there lies a vast ocean of the unseen, yet, it was there.
It was always there.
Love takes many forms; it's in the gentle touch of a hand offering reassurances, it's in a look from across the breakfast table, that one that says 'what would I do without you sitting right there', in a voiced acknowledgment of that emotion when you only need to hear 'I love you with all that I am', and it is the intangible glue which holds our friendships, our relationships, together. True unconditional love is the greatest, and most coveted, gift of all.
When a person delves far too deeply into the dark, it's not difficult to imagine how incredibly hard it is to find their way back to a place where there is a chance that acknowledging love, in its truest forms, is possible. It's easy to forget what it feels like to have that abundance of affection, of comfort and support, when inside all you can remember is that which has been lost; a family, a friend, or a lover, sometimes entities that are all three tied neatly into one. Regret is a form of sickness that can infect pure light with its disease, numbing a person from recognizing when a hand is reaching out to take yours to say 'it's okay, you're not alone, not anymore, I'm here and I love you'.
Hermione knew somewhere in her was that person who recognized these things. She knew that she deserved something more than the life she'd carved out for herself, yet, she knew that she wasn't ready to undergo any further transformations. In this case, she put her head before her heart.
A number of days had passed, nearly two weeks since she'd dropped off her parchments to the green eyed woman's empty office, the headmistress hadn't met with her since then. This morning, in particular, Hermione sat around the circular wooden table with the few other professors and staff who remained for the summer months – the summer which was quickly drawing ever closer to fall -, and she ate quietly and listened to the few conversations going on over the eating of breakfast and the drinking of tea or coffee.
Minerva hadn't spoken a word to her besides Good morning, or Good evening. She made no approach. Rather the woman kept her distance and, frankly, for that Hermione was pleasantly surprised. She'd begun again to find some sort of routine with her day to day. The Minister frequently owled with information to be researched and undertaken, those inquiries that seemed to keep her far out of harms way. And, again, she didn't mind. Rolonda made sure to keep her in high spirits, or as high in spirits as Hermione could summon.
Unlikely was the friendship between the two women; the elder having had some experience with her pain made it unconventionally comfortable, while Hermione was free to express what ever without the fear of judgement or deceit. The grey haired woman hadn't much family, nor too terribly many close friendships of her own to drag her attention in various directions. Her close ties were mostly within the walls of the castle. Hermione imagined she'd succumb to the same fate. However, as July began to slowly bleed into the beginning of August, she did find herself beginning to wonder what the school year would bring. She was growing nearly excited. Excitement wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to.
A light touch on her arm had the woman relaxing back into her seat, gaze lifting from her emptied plate to meet those golden eyes aimed upon her. Hermione couldn't help but to offer a small, crooked twisting of lips.
"Thinking about a run this morning, Granger? Weather looks fine." Rolonda's brows rose in question, though within the ease of her gaze Hermione had begun to detect that small amount of competition. Competitive, they were... They had been and would be. Always trying to out do the other. And she liked it.
"Always." Hermione replied simply to the pleasure of her companion, and that was that.
Across the table, Minerva often found herself watching. Jealously, so – in some cases. As the younger woman seemed to ease further into her existence, Minerva felt ever more unsettled herself. At the very least, she was, however, glad that Hermione had found a friend. Even if that friend was Rolonda Hooch.
The ebony haired witch would never deny that, to a degree, she blamed her friend for the distance her silence had created. Silence gave way for numerous sins. Although she knew it wasn't the fault of her friend entirely, if at all... There was still that bit that wanted to push the blame onto someone, anyone, other than herself for this massive personal failing.
Even while the rest were still talking amongst themselves, she watched as the two witches quietly rose from their seats and wandered down the hall, away from the rest, passing waves over shoulder and disappearing out of the large room – out of sight, although far from out of mind. Minerva said nothing, did nothing, aside from sit there and sip her tea.
"Quite interesting, isn't it?" Emerald eyes darted to those of blue, peering over the rim of her cup at the small wizard addressing her.
"What is?" She questioned vaguely before sipping some more of the warm, mild tasting liquid. She watched him nod to the large archway, and the place where the women had turned and left.
"Who knew that Miss. Granger and our Rolonda would carry on so well, they would hardly have appeared to have much in common, hmm?" He furthered as unbeknownst to him the discomfort steadily rose.
"It's good that she has made a fast friend, I'm sure in the field of duty she must have been quite lonely... Has she not taken up with anyone, Minerva?" Pomona, ever the eavesdropper, cast her watery gaze upon the Scottish witch who, in turn, lifted a judgmental brow at the salt and pepper haired woman.
"I wouldn't know, Miss. Granger doesn't seem terribly inclined toward dalliances." Minerva replied shortly, only to receive a brief nod and a few vague musings on about how everyone deserves a spot of fun, now and again. Though she couldn't entirely disagree with the thoughts of the witch on a spot of fun, Minerva could no longer really say with the young witch thought to be enjoyable. She no longer knew her. Not like she had. Not anymore.
Feeling somewhat dejected, Minerva excused herself quietly from the table and found herself slipping out of the Great Hall. For a moment, she considered returning to her rooms to recollect and meditate on the current status of things. Although, she suddenly found herself turning toward the courtyard on four paws, lightly trotting off towards the school grounds without a second thought. The grey feline clung to shadows and close to walls until her paws felt the cool grass beneath them. It was uncouth to spy. She was ever so aware. However, this wasn't a spy mission, she convinced herself, it was merely to gauge and to seek out information, it was to better understand. Nothing more, nothing less. Despite the fact that she knew the two women would be entirely unaware of a certain green eyed tabby curled up just beneath the fabric of a tower, watching, as the pair raced around the pitch.
No one knew what the women did on their own, it wasn't anyones business. For the most part they talked and they worked out together, topical conversation that rarely scraped the surface of the mind, which made it pleasurable. Every once in a while in veered into territory that Hermione wasn't entirely accustomed to but Rolonda never pushed or pried. In fact, she seemed to notice rather quickly if it was starting to near unbearable and changed the topic entirely – what a relief it was.
It would be a lie if she said she wasn't growing rather fond of the flying instructor – in fact, it would be a bold faced lie. Sure, they hadn't had much in common when she was young and a student, rather she thought of the woman as more of a jock with more bulk than brain. How she was ever surprised to be proven wrong.
"Don't you ever... Let up? Just a little?" The silver haired woman puffed as she tried to keep up while, at long last, she began to run out of steam. Hermione laughed, pushing on and ever forward, until a glance back caused her to divert and round back to run circles around the doubled over witch behind her.
"And admit defeat? I could never." She rounded and gave the woman's rear a healthy swat with the back of her hand, affording her a scolding look as a ill aimed kick missed its mark. Hermione's lips twisted further into a mischievous grin, lopsided and a little silly, as adrenaline flooded her veins.
"Well... I admit defeat... I am done. You win today." Rolonda straightened and stretched high, willing her burning muscles to loosen. She closed her eyes for a moment, focused on the feel of a good work out, then dropped her arms back to her sides to give her legs a similar treatment, bending them back one at a time and pulling upon ankles to release the tension in her thighs.
Hermione slowed until she merely paced, walking, back and forth. She dropped her chin and breathed deeply the warm, mid morning air, the smell of freshness releasing those endorphins she so craved.
"It's nice to do this," She said finally. "Run with you." Yellow eyes found her. She could almost feel them upon the side of her face as she strolled along, back and forth, her legs positively buzzing with the exertion. "I had a running partner, a work partner, for long time... We used to do this a lot."
"Did you kick his ass unapologetically too?" Was the dry reply she received, as she watched the other witch drop back onto the pitch to sit before laying herself out entirely, her chest rising high and falling low, catching her breath. Hermione's gaze shifted to the grass beneath her feet with every step taken, steps that grew far more languid.
"No," She answered simply, and after a moment of thought. "She kicked my ass, actually. Regularly. She was strong and fast, incredibly agile... A real motivator. But eventually we ran side by side rather than me lagging behind."
Rolonda propped herself on her elbows, her interest somewhat piqued. Never before had she listened to Hermione share many details of this partner she had had. The individual had been eluded to a few times but never quite given a name or a face. It made the woman curious. Although it seemed to be something of a sore venture to discuss.
"You worked together for a good period?" She asked with an air of nonchalance, as though the lightness in her tone and demeanor would grant access to the small talk. And possibly more. The brunette gave a short nod and heaved a heavy sigh.
"Five years."
"That's a decent chunk."
"It could never have been enough." A flash of a look passed from the brunette to the elder woman. It was the kind of look that spoke volumes. There was much to say, few words that could be found to say it, yet, as Hermione paced back and forth, relaxed, a few feet in front of the woman who laid there on the ground, Rolonda could tell that this wasn't a short story. She could nearly see the bricks being laid higher and higher, as the invisible wall threatened to box Hermione in entirely. It was one of those moments where all she could hope for was one to wiggle loose and pop out so that she may peek inside.
"You were very close?" Venturing out into the vast landscape of Hermione's inner workings was like trying to choose the right wire to defuse a bomb. One snip could have led to inevitable chaos, while one could have stopped the clock just before zero. Rolonda was learning this quickly So her questions grew more open ended, less imposing, it granted the opportunity for Hermione to refuse any information. Luckily, it appeared the quick learning was paying off, as the young woman very slowly began to unfold before her very eyes, much to the surprise of a tabby cat who'd managed to creep near by, but out of sight.
"Initially, no... I thought she was arrogant and frivolous," Stated the young professor with the ghost of a smile, a small, almost sad little smile that really could have been missed if one blinked. "But she was one of the most hardworking, intelligent, and well rounded people I'd ever met. She accepted me and my... Unique outlook on life, she... loved me."
To have been loved in such a way was to be set on fire, to be re-imagined, almost free. For those years, Hermione had felt free and she had felt so well taken care of. Rolonda could see it in the way Hermione stood still, her feet coming to a halt, and in the look about the woman's face that whatever she had had or felt was far from over.
"Did it end badly?" Rolonda asked as she slowly rose to her feet. Hermione shook herself from the reverie in which she was drowning and aimed her sights upon the other woman, the woman who stayed her distance but leveled with her gaze. Talking to Rolonda, specifically alone, grew easier. One at a time, she told herself. Piece by piece. For what ever reason, today was the day to lift the corner of the veil and reveal just a little bit – it was what having a friend was for. Still, it was painful, like ripping out fresh stitches. Emotions ran high in the height of summer... When all those awful memories surfaced again, and again. Hermione relented just that little bit.
"Badly... ," She repeated, somewhat transfixed on the word, deciphering it in that way one would when trying to find the falsehood. "It ended abruptly." She corrected after that moments pause.
Standing there on the pitch, far away from stone walls and much farther away from home, in a place that she could hardly recognize as anything other than a monument of the beginning of the end there, off in the distance, as tall and as imposing as it had ever been, Hermione only understood one thing; life was as it was made to be, and nothing would ever really be the same as it once was.
Rolonda peered on with that same curious look, silently questioning, and Hermione felt compelled to tell just a piece of her story. That little bit of history she so neatly concealed. Just for a moment, just to feel that same level of understanding that she craved when no one was really looking, or judging, in the way people often did do. But it was hard. Complicated. As though she hadn't been kicked enough when she was down, it seemed there was yet another blow to knock her just that little bit further into the dirt.
She had loved, she had lost, and then she had loved and lost once again.
This wasn't difficult, it was simple... It wasn't difficult, it was unbearable.
Understanding this, Hermione placed her hands on her hips and squeezed her sides, feeling that comforting paint of her own fingertips digging into flesh. Her chin dropped again, nearly hitting her chest, as she expelled a deep breath of oxygen, and the secrecy she'd clung to with it. Only for a moment.
"She was my partner. We worked together and I just... She was impossible not to love, in a way," Hermione stated as she raised her head, her eyes vaguely peering off at the other end of the Quidditch pitch and focusing just beyond those three rings. "Amelia was... A breath of fresh air. She didn't know me like many people had known me through my academic years, she only knew the person who I was after I had... Grown up. Learned my lessons..." The part of herself that she gave to this woman, this heavenly creature who showed her such great compassion and adoration... She often wondered if she could ever find that again, with anyone, or even just alone. All signs led her to believe most likely not. That chapter had closed.
The silver haired woman didn't have to ask any further questions, Hermione could see that massive question mark splashed across her face. Was she abandoned? Why weren't they together now? If it was so damn good, why was she alone? It was at this point that Hermione ventured to explain with candor what she believed to be the upmost truth as her company gazed back at her, and the hidden feline listened while holding her breath.
"It would have been easy if she had simply chosen to break off our relationship," She stated after a moments pause, chocolate brown eyes meeting those of gold which were opposite. "It would have been easy because then I would have been able to accept, despite not ever wanting to part from her, that she had grown unhappy and needed to leave to find happiness. That I could have condoned, because it's only human to want to be happy." Hermione felt herself needing to steady, to breathe, just for a second before continuing, even while she fought to keep her eyes from tearing and to remain stoic in the face of old memories. "Rather than it being as easy and simple as that, it wasn't... Because, you see, she was taken from me by force. We were happy, she was happy, and she wanted to live and be happy with me yet they took her from me in an ambush."
It didn't take Rolonda long to connect the dots and understand, ever more so by the look in the eyes of that young woman, that her lover had been killed. So many lines connecting, so much more made sense, and Hermione was there, standing on the grass in a wide open space on a sunny summer morn, still mourning.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione... That's awf..."
"Yes, well," The brunette cut off her friend before she had the chance to continue and gave her a bland sort of look, as though to say 'such is life'. "It is over, it happened, and I now realize that, unfortunately, people who choose my line of work aren't exactly afforded the luxury of having these... Relationships. And I am fine with being single, I'm happy with my work, and fucking someone senseless isn't nearly as productive as being Kingsley's lap dog."
Yellow eyes scanned her face.
"You believe that?"
"It helps me sleep at night."
And with that, it was clear, Hermione was finished talking on the subject, but Rolonda honestly didn't mind. It was a start. They had discussed her, she had learned something, and the witch wasn't running in the opposite direction... In a large way, it was a progress.
The women turned their attention to other avenues – flying, the upcoming school year, and various other little things. The silver haired witch had taken quite an interest in Hermione's motorbike and that was cause for great joy as, there could never be any doubt, Hermione loved the machine.
As the pair of women left the pitch, Minerva stayed behind, curled up, digesting what it was she had listened to. It could have been considered a tender moment between two friends and she realized that she shouldn't have listened, or heard what Hermione had said in clear confidence to only one person. One person that wasn't herself...
She was trying to give the young woman distance, trying being the key operative word, although it was hard not to have control of the situation. She knew that she had to relinquish the reins but the consistent wondering was driving her to madness quicker than she would have liked to admit. Soon, though, the pair would have to sit down and discuss the upcoming year. If anything, even if their communications were strictly professional, there had to be some give. Some consideration made her wonder if she might want to reach out to a certain Potter for a visit. Maybe some more insight could be gained, however, she wasn't entirely glad to speak behind the back of her newest employ, perhaps, it would shed some more light on how to carry on.
The day went by quickly and at dinner, Minerva chose to sit behind her desk for tea. She had ample enough work to contend with now that the school year was just around the bend and another few weeks away. Empty halls would be filled to the brim and that warranted preparation. She wasn't expecting a knock at her door, nor was she expecting that when she called for entry to see the brunette woman tucking herself into its entrance and closing that heavy door behind her with a soft click.
When Hermione turned around and looked out across the office to find the emerald eyed witch sitting there, somewhat taken aback by the presence, there was but a moment of discomfort before steps were taken and the woman seated herself beyond the stretch of desk in a chair on the other side, casually.
"You've read through my lesson preparations." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, spoken as such and without much enthusiasm. It was clear in the way the woman sat with the posture of a well composed statue and those eyes that aimed without waver that this was a business call. Minerva leaned forward and folded her hands together upon the surface before her and rested her elbows on its edge, her gaze peeking over the gold rim of glasses upon the woman.
"I have." She replied simply, in waiting for further words.
"Is there anything you'd like to discuss?" Oh, there was much... But that was an aspect Minerva knew she shouldn't shed much upon in their current climate which bordered on cold and unfeeling. The elder witch briefly bent and opened a large desk drawer, withdrawing the paper work she'd placed in there.
"Yes, actually... ," She began while flipping parchments. "Years one through five are adequate, more than adequate, and we're in agreement on them being carried out exactly as you see fit, however, six and seven..." Hermione cleared her throat, uncomfortably, and Minerva stopped. She lifted her gaze to see the woman peering back, her features betraying a brand of misery that only came in the form of scrutiny.
"Forgive me, continue." The woman nearly muttered before relaxing into her chair with the understanding she may be here a while. Minerva did.
"We aren't training soldiers here, Hermione... Ambition is a great gift, to be sure... But some of what you have been planning to teach may seem rather aggressive... These level of jinxes, hexes, and charms are..."
"Dangerous," Hermione interjected without a stitch of trepidation, albeit a bit stiffly. The ebony haired woman paused and stared, waiting for the inevitable debate to be had. "I know they are dangerous, but you have to understand that teaching these isn't to promote violence, it's promoting awareness."
"But do our students really need to be aware of how to bleed someone dry? Or.. Or to induce states of unbearable hysteria?"
"Did our students really need to fight a war? A war that has bred even more violence after its conclusion, Headmistress?" Hermione shot back with raised brows, her fingers lacing upon bent knee, as she crossed her legs. The young woman continued as she witnessed lips part opposite her own to speak, cutting off any communication at the knees before she was finished. "You clearly do not know what goes on beyond these walls, Minerva. Some students may not end up at the Ministry of Magic, they may go on to do other things, of course, but do you trust that in their travels they will be able to defend themselves if they aren't privy to all the world has to offer? Good, bad, or ugly?"
"Miss. Granger, what I am saying is that we may want to scale back the gore, we want our students leaving here well rounded, of course, but this is straddling the border of being too much for anyone to handle..." Minerva was afforded a scoff and a shake of the head in disbelief.
"I wonder how many of us wouldn't have died if we had been given real lessons on self defense, Professor," The brunette nearly growled, her eyes flashing with that bit of frustration. "And that's on your hands, and his." An accusing finger aimed vaguely in the direction of Albus Dumbledore's frame, a frame which, that day, was filled and listening with that same spark in his eyes that he had when he was Headmaster. The old man watched the back and forth like a tennis match, but didn't intervene. Not even when his name was used as ammunition for, even in the form of a painting, he couldn't deny she was right.
"It's been nearly ten years, Hermione... Why can't you let it go?!"
"BECAUSE THEY NEED TO BE PREPARED FOR EVERYTHING!" Thundered the brunette as she leaped to her feet and started pacing, words flying out of her mouth at the speed of light while Minerva just sat there, stunned. "You don't understand! Talk to the Minister, and he'll fucking tell you if you don't choose to believe me, there are people out there that are extremely violent and extremely knowledgeable. Even I have seen things that I never thought possible and when she got hurt, and I couldn't stop it, I knew that there was still so much to learn, I never want anyone to go through that again so they need to learn how to take care of themselves properly! Don't you understand?!"
"When who got hurt, Hermione..." These few words made the woman stop in her tracks when she realized what had flown from her mouth. Her head snapped toward the headmistress who sat there gazing back at her with furrowed brows, as though she didn't already know. She needed to hear it, herself, from the woman. Not by word of mouth and not while eavesdropping. She needed to hear it.
There was a long pause in which both women seemed to be holding their breath. Hermione had done enough sharing for the day, she knew her own patience was growing thin, and the fact that Minerva could even question her in such a way made it all the more difficult not to quit right then and there. There were many secrets, many on both sides, and history that was less than stellar to boot.
"You may have been my first, Minerva... My first in every sense of the word, but you weren't my last." Hermione finally answered. Her tone was flat and the air about her just the same. Minerva slowly rose from her desk and stood, eyeing the other woman with suspicion for she wasn't entirely sure what Hermione had meant by being her first. There had been Weasley, there had been Krum... There had even been rumors of a slight dalliance with Luna Lovegood...
"Excuse me?" Hermione turned and faced the woman who questioned her, stepping up opposite on the other side of the desk, her hands coming to rest in the confines of her trouser pockets. She leveled with the woman.
"Out there, things are different, Minerva... Don't fool yourself in thinking you are aware of everything that goes on in this world," Threatening, almost... But most of all imposing was the presence of the woman. "And yes, my first – the first great love, even if only one sided, the first real kiss, the first to take me to bed, all of those things... But not my last. There has been another. But, unfortunately, due to being absolutely unprepared in the line of duty, she's not around any longer. Which is why my lessons may seem aggressive, because I have seen and done some things that you cannot even imagine, and if you want your students to have a fighting chance, I suggest you step down and let me run my lessons on a trial for this year. If they don't work, they don't work, and we can make changes... But if they run smoothly and we face no real challenges, then I would impress upon you to allow me to teach what it is that I know best. Can we at least try that?"
Minerva was speechless. Kingsley hadn't exactly given her the true facts in the matters of Hermione, now Minerva could really see the woman was a force to be reckoned with for she didn't back down. She simply forced herself in. There really could be no argument. But, finally, here and now, there was recognition of the relationship they had shared... And the truth came out.
"You told me there had been others..." Minerva was stuck on one small detail, she had believed, even prayed, that this was confusion. Hermione merely shrugged her shoulders before turning away, assuming that she had acquired what it was she wanted from this and that her lessons were to be carried out as she saw fit now that Minerva was rather taken up with other unnecessary facts.
"I lied." She replied in a short, matter of fact way as, behind her back, the ebony haired woman quickly rounded the edge of her desk and made to step out in front of it, her features pale and bewildered.
"There were others, though... You had been with others before me and you clearly had some experience, I don't understand..." The look on the younger woman's face as she turned half way to peer back just as her hand laid itself on the doorknob made the older witch stop stepping forward. The gap between them remained, Hermione there at the door while Minerva stood with that silly look on her face. Hermione nearly felt sorry. Nearly. Enough time had passed, maybe it'd be the nail in the coffin? Who knew. But maybe with the air cleared, the elder woman would finally get it figured out just how much Hermione could detest her in this moment. Maybe not always, but for now.
"Minerva, you are a smart woman... But sometimes you are so fucking blind," Hermione almost chuckled, but instead just sighed with a small, vaguely amused curling of lips; she had won, in a sense. "I wanted to impress you, I thought that if you knew I had never fucked before that you wouldn't want me, so... I read as much as I could, I learned as much as I could possibly, and then... You took me to bed. But, no... I'd never been taken. And probably won't again because, well..."
She vaguely motioned to herself, her marred visage, with a lax free hand.
"Just look what you made me feel like doing, I'm hardly the pretty, young girl you fingered on that desk." It was vulgar and it was accurate. Hermione even heard a few gasps from some of the more elderly witches and wizards listening in, those who she cast a few cursory glances upon, eyes darting, and watched as those looking down upon her suddenly shifted away.
"Now, you got me here, I'm working here... I'll do my best to be the sort of professor who makes a difference in the lives of my students... Maybe not in the way you did, but that may just be for the best." And with that, Hermione left the office tossing the ever so casual Have a nice evening over her shoulder before the door shut smoothly.
"I think I like her more now than I did when she was in my class..." Severus's silky voice filled the stark silence, garnering a glare from most other portraits and especially the Headmistress herself. What on earth had she gotten herself into... And how to fix it.
TBC...