Chapter 26: Going Down
"I'm fine," Hermione reassured, stretching her hand to keep Minerva at bay. She didn't need the aid. She could easily get up without. She could take care of herself. She didn't fail to notice the worry that was etched upon the much older woman's forehead, but this was something she had to do. Minerva, however, said nothing. She just waited in patience beside the bed, cloak hanging over her arm. She didn't have to look up to be aware of the Animagus' piercing green eyes directed upon nothing or no one else but her. She had had too much Transfiguration under her lead not to have learned that by now. This held the middle between the usual McGonagall gaze and the compassion that only Minerva could convey.
Trying her best not to make it too obvious, Hermione rapidly took a breath, before easing her legs over the side of the bed, supporting her weight by her fist solidly lodged into the bed beside her. She intuitively bit her tongue to keep herself from wincing, whereas on the inside Hermione Granger was screaming and not only because of the pain in her restraining, rigid limbs…
She quietly used both of her fists to push herself further to the edge of the bed, until both of her feet touched wood. She slowly raised herself and remained holding onto the bed with one hand momentarily to regain balance for the first in days. Slowly, Hermione rose further and let go of the bed. She contentedly succeeded in keeping herself upright for a while, before both of her legs began quivering under carrying her weight again after not having done so for a couple of days.
Minerva was by her side immediately, aiding her in supporting herself. She slowly eased her onto the edge of the bed again. "Hermione…" that soft female voice sounded. She quietly raised her eyes to meet the professor's, not needing the words which she already knew she would say… "Hermione, I'm not sure if this would be such…"
She interrupted. "I'm fine. I just…" she sighed. "Minerva. I really need to do this, even if only for the sake of my sanity." She begged with her eyes, but Minerva of course wouldn't yield. She knew. She wouldn't ever be able to convince her. To herself she quietly admitted that maybe indeed she wasn't powerful enough yet.
The witch again exhaled, before getting up once more, fighting against the nausea and light-headedness while taking her cloak from the nurse – who just eyed her with uncertainty. The need to be there at her mother and father's funeral overpowered the feelings of Hermione's own uncertainty. The deep aching inside only added more to that. She couldn't imagine not being there. She wouldn't, either. What most likely hurt the most was how things had been before drama struck. The awkwardness. The uncertainty, maybe. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had never seen Minerva… had never known that their only daughter would really be taken care of and be loved; had never gotten that badly wanted and needed reassurance that all would be fine… that Minerva really loved their daughter…
Keeping herself upright was of course one thing, but walking was yet another. She quietly reached for Minerva's arm. Together Minerva and she began walking slowly, in the direction of the wide wooden doors. The couple of steps necessary to move just three feet appeared enough for the weak Hermione to fail into carrying herself once more. Minerva and the nurse both immediately reached for her, to keep her from collapsing and aided her to the bed again. "Hermione…" Minerva whispered. "You're too weak; it is too soon after the accident."
"No, I'm not!" Hermione argued, interrupting her. Her voice was shrill, very near the verge of hysteria and rather loud despite the fact she had almost fainted twice in the minutes that had passed. She, however, didn't move to get onto her feet again.
"I'm sorry," Minerva whispered, putting her fingers on her battered, former pupil's. She didn't pull away, but just averted her eyes to the heavy wooden beams overhead, almost childishly beginning to trail the lines of age in them. Minerva quietly squeezed her fingers, but no indication of having felt this came. She sighed.
Minerva wasn't entirely sure about doing this – especially now – but of course the determined former pupil beside her would convince her there really was no need to worry again if she ever mentioned doing this another time. A part of Minerva had no issues believing how much Hermione wanted this. There maybe was a need for her to do this as well. Saying goodbye was maybe necessary to continue life. Another part of her, however, feared for her lover's well-being and feared maybe she wouldn't be powerful enough to take this anymore, since after all it only had been four days.
Quietly, Minerva then reached for her wand, before raising it into the air and easily conjuring a bouquet of fresh lilies in a lot of different colors. With another wave of her wand, Minerva slowly moved them to lay atop of the grave. Hermione quietly raised her eyes to meet the much older woman's, and even though she couldn't really smile, the gratefulness was readable in her eyes. She then turned to the headstone again and let her eyes fall shut, the tears leaking quietly from between her lashes. Minerva just watched and didn't say anything. Her fingers, however, tightened around Hermione's.
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered to no one in particular, before burying her head into the older woman's shoulder.