The expectation was no interruptions, and they were met. Sitting there, sipping her coffee, Hermione listened intently as Minerva described in great detail the reasons why she was afraid. Afraid… Hermione thought to herself. I never realized she could ever be afraid of anything. It was just a far removed idea - when Hermione laid eyes on the woman seated across from her, she knew that Minerva had seen much in her years but, in this new position, being the primary carer for the woman, never in her wildest imaginings did she ever think that the fear ran so deep. And for a very good reason.
Adorning herself with an expression of quiet acceptance, Hermione peered deeply into Minerva's eyes as Minerva explained the events of her twenties and early thirties. She told Hermione tales of her love lost, a man, her husband, who was taken from her far too soon after their marriage by an acrumantula attack. It was an accident, a horrible accident, that rendered the fellow dead long before medical attention to even arrive at the scene. However, this was made worse by the fact that she had only just discovered that she was pregnant. Suddenly a widow, Minerva did what she could to protect the pregnancy from most, save for Albus, Poppy, and most Hogwarts staff who were able to deduce rather quickly that she was with child due to her growing emotional and magical instability.
It was bizarre to watch Minerva explain so matter of factly the events which happened next. She explained that when her child, Thomas, was born he had been born with a critical congenital heart defect - the heart walls were essentially, in his case, weak and blood that should have had a clear path between the left and right sides of the heart were not functioning, mixing when they should not have been. It had only been a few days after the birth that her son had been rushed into surgery and the doctor on call was not suited. In fact, it was later determined that the doctor was under the influence.
Hearing this, Hermione felt a rage building within her and she gripped her coffee cup, tightening her fingers around it with a bit more force that it nearly felt like she could have crushed it in her hand. Minerva, of course, noticed the immediate change however continued to explain with a calmness that her child, naturally, did not survive the surgery. Whether it was due to the lack of proper attention, or the fact that it was always meant to happen that way, the events left her feeling afloat, aimless, and she was ultimately admitted to St. Mungo's as a patient due to her erratic behavior and lack of self control. It rendered the Headmistress a psychiatric patient for the better part of a year and a half.
"All of these things, no doubt, will be in my hospital files for you to peruse at your leisure." Minerva told her calmly after a few moments.
Under the fluorescent lights of the staff lounge, she looked across the table at the young doctor, her friend, who was mightily trying not to show that she was emotionally impacted by the details that the Headmistress had freely given her.
Hermione gazed down at the table between them for a few moments. Trauma wasn't easy to just overcome. It wasn't a hurdle that could be jumped and then forgotten. The hurdle kept on coming up, sometimes the jump was easier than it was before, sometimes it was harder and that hurdle became a ten story brick wall that the best you could do was slap your hands against, hoping against all hope that it would fall down and grant clear passage.
Slowly, Hermione released a breath and shook her head, gazing up and into those green eyes. The Headmistress's head tilted, watching her closely, as though trying to determine what was running through her mind.
Without another word, Hermione rose from her chair relaxedly, and then motioned for Minerva to get up herself.
"What are you doing?" Minerva asked, only just slightly confused. The look on Hermione's face, the slightly raised brow and the slight frown at the corner of her lips, made her wonder.
"Just… Stand up, I'm going to hug you." Hermione told her frankly. Minerva shook her head and glanced down at her own coffee cup.
"That's not necessary…"
"Minerva McGonagall… Get your ass out of that chair and stand up, I'm going to hug you now, I'm not going to ask again." Ordered the brown eyed woman, causing Minerva to meet her gaze. The look she was given was not one to be argued with. The expression Minerva wore told Hermione that it, again, wasn't necessary but she slowly rose from her chair anyway because… Well, the good doctor ordered it.
Standing in front of Hermione, at first, the brunette didn't make a move, only traced over her features with a gaze. Then, Hermione stepped toward her and reached for her. Minerva felt the woman's arms loop, one around the back of her shoulders and the other around her waist. She felt Hermione's chin atop her shoulder.
At first, Minerva's brain short circuited. Here, this person was, still in their scrubs, exhausted, yet, holding her with such a closeness, so tightly, that all she felt well up within her was affection. Her body didn't react immediately to the touch. After about a minute, her own arms wrapped around her friend. Her friend. She had to remember that beyond all else, Hermione was her friend. A close friend. Someone who she had no reason to fear.
Whether it be that realisation that she had told her friend everything that hurt so deeply, along with the whispered words of heartfelt apology close to her ear, Minerva felt something within her snap.
Hermione knew that intake of breath better than anyone. That visceral reaction of letting go, the quiver, and she knew… If she were to lean back and look at Minerva's face, Minerva would be crying. The arms around her tightened and she felt the back of her scrubs, the fabric, being balled into the other woman's fists. Then she heard it, against her shoulder, the woman crying against her. Careful not to run her hand over the woman's shoulder, Hermione rubbed her lower back and let her cry. The Headmistress didn't really cry, she didn't really let herself feel emotions that were deemed unnecessary because they helped nothing, no one. However, in the arms of a friend, one should always be allowed to feel their feelings to their full extent. Hermione imagined how hard it must have been for Minerva to tell her all those little truths she kept so well hidden away in the recesses of her mind.
Eventually, Minerva's breath evened out. How long they were standing there? Hermione wouldn't have been able to tell, and frankly it didn't matter. When she felt the hands holding on to the fabric at her back loosen and fingers splay, probably sore because of how tightly they had been holding, Hermione inched back to look at her friend properly.
She hadn't remembered there ever being a moment before where she was able to so closely look into the Headmistress's eyes. In the moment, she hesitated. The second emerald met brown, something that she couldn't quite define made her just stop and look deeply until she needed to break contact.
Withdrawing herself and taking a step backward casually, the young doctor smiled at the Headmistress. It was merely a faint curling of the lips.
"Listen, let's go home, get some rest, and tomorrow… Let's relax. I will stay in my quarters, I'll be available to you if you need me, but nothing has to be decided right this very second..."
"I'll do it." Minerva told her, effectively cutting her off. Hermione gazed at her for a moment, trying to decide for herself what it was.
"You'll do what…" She asked softly, drawing her hands up to rest on her hips.
"I'll do the surgery," Minerva replied with a bit more strength, although her voice was a bit more gruff. The Headmistress reached into the pocket of her coat for a handkerchief and unceremoniously wiped her face, her nose, and then cleared her throat, gazing down briefly at the small piece of fabric in her hands before looking up at the woman across from her. "I do not trust doctors, surgeons… The hospital, I do not trust - however, I do trust you. At least, I need to trust you. So, if we've run out of options, then I'll do the surgery."
"You sure?" Elated, even though she couldn't exactly woop and holler about it because that would have been extremely insensitive, she asked tentatively instead if Minerva was positive. The ebony haired witch cleared her throat again and gave a brief nod, her eyes darting past the doctor standing in front of her and then falling upon Hermione's eyes.
"No… But I don't really have a choice, do I…"
"Not really," Hermione told her, reaching toward one of Minerva's hands with one of her own, squeezing it. "These hands… Remember - I got you." This time, Minerva squeezed back and had to glance up toward the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.
"Let's go home, Headmistress." Hermione watched the other woman give a nod and, together, they began to walk out of the room. Hermione held to Minerva's hand for as long as it seemed appropriate, then she let go, although she couldn't deny that small feeling of how easily, and how well, that hand fit with her own. Again, the thought was deemed inappropriate. It certainly wasn't the time to have any sort of feeling toward the Headmistress, not in her state or state of mind. And she was straight. So all the boxes were ticked off for That would be a terrible idea.
What she might not have realised in that moment was the fact that the Headmistress had similar considerations, although the Headmistress had no idea what those feelings were, what to name them, or what they meant. Because she noticed Hermione's hesitation when the young woman leaned back those moments ago to look into her eyes. She felt Hermione subtly stiffen under her hands when finally, after minutes of that embrace, they looked upon one another's face so near. The look in Hermione's eyes was unreadable. Or maybe Minerva hadn't the vocabulary to define what she saw. In retrospect, the women in their comfort with one another didn't often hesitate to lay a hand on one another. She hadn't had a friend like that before, where she grabbed someone's arm or laid her hands upon one's shoulders so easily. Ultimately, these considerations were readily dismissed as Hermione led them down hall after hall and back toward the reception area.
She asked Minerva to wait a moment when they reached the lobby and wandered over to the reception desk. Minerva heard the hushed conversation, with her heightened hearing being effective. Hermione left a note for the nurse, Evelyn, that she was returning to Hogwarts and not to 'wait up', then, as though nothing was amiss, she returned to the Headmistress and together they left St. Mungo's to return to Hogwarts, all the while Minerva was left to wonder whether or not what Hermione had said those days ago about what happened not happening again between her and the nurse was actually true. Not that it should have mattered, not that she should have cared, but something seemed off. She brushed it off as nothing, for in the grand scheme of things… It was nothing, wasn't it?
Waking in the morning, the rays of light splashing across her face, Hermione reached a hand back, searchingly, as her face scrunched in confusion. Her hand was met with air, nothing more, and that confused her greatly. She slowly blinked the sleep from her eyes and realised that she was not in a hospital bunk, nor was she even in her own quarters. She was alone.
Groaning pitifully, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the familiar stone arches of the Infirmary ceiling. She'd managed to make it to the hospital wing, at least. Running a hand over her face, she recalled the day before and had to really think hard on whether she left Evelyn a note… Eventually, she remembered she had.
Lifting herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, she felt dizziness and, still, so very tired. But she needed to get up. She was still in her scrubs, still in her shoes, and although she had showered and changed scrubs multiple times while being at St. Mungo's, she wanted her shower. Her clothes. And so she got up, stretched, and walked back to her quarters to shower and change for the day.
Not even a frightfully hot shower and a clean outfit made her face look any less tired than it was before. Though, now, she was far more awake then she had been. Whatever the day had in store, she was prepared, however, she hoped for less drama. Less intense conversation. She needed a day where all that she really had to care about was nothing. A spot of fun, perhaps. Whatever that meant.
Once she was readied, she left her rooms and set off for the faculty lounge for breakfast. Climbing stairs, she definitely noticed that her feet ached. Her legs ached. Essentially, all of her ached. It was all evidence that she had grown very unaccustomed to the work she used to do at the hospital. Or maybe, when she was working those hours before, she had just grown so accustomed to feeling the effects of lifting people, leaning over in awkward positions, holding very still for great lengths of time, that she didn't notice the pain anymore. That could have definitely been a factor.
Entering into the teacher's lounge, she couldn't help but stifle another yawn. A couple pairs of eyes landed on the woman as she walked through toward the round table where sat the Flying Instructor with the Headmistress.
"Good morning, ladies." Hermione smiled sleepily, dropping down into a chair and immediately reaching for a mug and the coffee. Green eyes appraised her.
"You still look horrendous." Minerva murmured softly, smirking just a bit at the light glare she received.
"What's been keeping you, Granger?" Madame Hooch asked while Hermione and Minerva shared a small look. Hermione couldn't help but smirk herself, seeing the smile that Minerva wore behind her tea cup.
"Work, always work… But! I refuse to work today, my dear Flying Instructor." Hermione twirled her spoon in the coffee mug, mixing sugar with the dark liquid.
"I do have a name, you know." Rolanda seemed to huff, her yellow eyes narrowing just that little bit at the younger woman who attempted at a deadpan expression.
"Indeed you do, however, as the stories do tell, speaking such a name grants you great power… Like the Boogeyman." Seeing Minerva laugh, making her laugh, was something Hermione was fond of. And, for some reason, in recent months, she'd discovered that the little back and forth's Rolanda and herself had, never ill-meaning, easily amused the Headmistress.
Leaning back in her chair, the silver haired witch looked over at Minerva and glared at her for snickering.
"I hardly remember this one being so damn cheeky when she was your student." Rolanda stated, aiming a glance back at the young doctor to see a smile of good nature.
"I hardly remember being cheeky as being any fun… Although you make it too easy." Hermione chuckled, reaching over to give Rolanda's arm an apologetic pat.
"Well, I can't deny… I have missed having banter."
"What… You can't banter with me?" Minerva raised a brow at the statement.
"You're too smart for me." Rolanda replied smoothly, quickly, and gave Hermione a pointed glance. Hermione threw her head back and laughed, knowing exactly what the woman was inferring.
"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment." Minerva chuckled, her gaze briefly taking in the image of Hermione in good spirits. There was something about it, the way she laughed so freely, it was pure contentment.
"So, what are you two up to today?" Hermione asked, lifting her mug to her smiling lips.
"This… My wife is running 'cross hell's half acre and I find myself with a surplus of time." Rolanda replied, gesturing to the table. Hermione's lips curled further as she nodded then turned her gaze to the Headmistress.
"I need to run back to my office for a while, I have a few owls to send off," She told them, inching her chair back from the table, however, she paused and met Hermione's eye. "In a little while, say… early afternoon, would you mind coming by? We can discuss the next week or so?"
Hermione's brows raised ever so slightly.
"We don't need to do that today, if you don't want… We can talk about it tomorrow if you just want to gather…"
"It's alright, Madame… It's best for my nerves to have a full understanding." Sincerely, the Scottish witch told her. Hermione gave a slow, singular nod.
"Of course, Minerva… I'll swing by."
Rolanda watched the exchange, saying nothing, and watched the two women's gaze linger on one another. Then the Headmistress gave her a nod, to which she smiled, before the green eyed woman rose and pushed her chair in.
Minerva turned to leave without taking a glance backward.
Holding her mug, Hermione subtly tilted her head and let her eyes fall to capture a view of the Headmistress, more specifically her trouser clad backside, as she walked to the door and slipped out, closing it behind her. Then there was silence… If only for a few moments.
"That's a dangerous game, Granger."
Hermione's eyes snapped toward the other woman at the table and peered into yellow hues.
"How dare you, I was not obvious." Hermione replied, her voice somewhat crisp but not angry, or the likes.
Rolanda threw her head back and spouted a singular, pointed HA!
"A longing glance across a room, I'm bloody gay, myself, you know…"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Hermione stated, although her cheeks did pinken just a little as she grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite out of the corner. Rolanda had to smirk and just shook her head, amused.
"You better than anyone should know such a glance, across a room, all subtle like that, longingly, is practically a declaration of undying love in the language of women loving women…"
"You are so… fucking gay." Hermione couldn't help but chuckle when she received an enthused Aye!
"But, really… That's a bit to bite off, don't you think?" Rolanda asked a bit more seriously, taking up her own mug of coffee and leaning back in her chair around the rounded table.
"I know," Hermione admitted softly, glancing out one of the far windows embedded in the wood detailed wall alongside them, and out into the sunny day beyond it. "But it's hard not to look."
She heard Rolanda hum, somewhat in agreement, however, when Hermione looked back toward the other woman, the expression on Rolanda's face told her to continue. Knowing that Rolanda was one easily trusted, considering the friendship they'd begun to spark in recent months and the already interesting conversations, lacking judgement, that they had had, Hermione sighed as she munched her toast.
"She's my friend, and my patient, my employer… There are about a thousand different reasons why feeling an attraction is very, very wrong," Hermione told her friend quietly before taking a sip of coffee to wash the toast down, then she continued. "Not to mention I'm still sleeping with my ex, which is messy… Even though we said we'd just be friends, and I wanted that friendship so horribly, it's like we're two magnets… Working together is electric…"
"The nurse?" Rolanda asked, her brows pinching together slightly. Hermione had told her about the nurse, the affair, and the fallout. Hermione just gave a nod and smoothed her toast free hand over her blouse, knocking off any offending crumbs.
"The nurse, I'm still sleeping with the nurse… And it's great, until it's lonely."
"My Merlin, you are a busy girl… Pining over your employer, sleeping with the woman you had an affair with… Very exciting."
"I am not pining over my employer."
"That gaze told otherwise." Rolanda stated, looking at her as though to say who are you trying to fool?
Hermione looked at her. Then she really had to sit and think about it. Was she that invested? She'd never really let herself think about it… As soon as the thoughts bubbled up, she quickly shut them down, even then while sitting across from Rolanda, she had to shake her head and clear her mind like an Etch-e-Sketch.
"She's straight."
"So was I once… So were you, by the sounds of it." Rolanda stated airily behind the rim of her mug. Hermione stared at her, and then she had to laugh at the ridiculousness of what the Flying Instructor insinuated.
"There's no way you're sitting there trying to weasel any ideas into my already addled mind, right now."
"Why not? You… Are technically single, she's single, who could say what would happen?" Rolanda shrugged a shoulder, frankly seeing no issue whatsoever. Worse things had happen to people.
"Horrible things… Horrible things would happen… She's my employer, she's straight, she's my friend, and she's my patient… It's too complicated," Hermione repeated more seriously than the last, frankly confused as to why Rolanda was even entertaining such a thought when she, herself, could not in the current light of the situation. "And weren't you just saying something about dangerous?"
Rolanda gave a shrug and placed down her empty mug. She pushed her chair back and rose to stand, then pushed her chair back to the table.
"The Headmistress has a habit of watching you leave, as well, Madame Granger," Rolanda stated nonchalantly, giving the young doctor a rather interesting little glance that Hermione could not read. "Just something I've noticed these last few months… Do with it what you will."
And with those parting words, and that strange little glance, Rolanda strolled away from the table to head out the door behind the brown eyed witch who sat there with their mug of coffee partially raised to her lip, trying to figure out what exactly that meant.
Later on that afternoon, Hermione strolled up to Minerva's office door and fixed herself in the stairwell. What she was fixing herself for, she had no idea, as her clothes were pristine and her hair was pulled back and off her face in a loose ponytail.
She couldn't deny that what Rolanda had told her earlier in confidence, as well as the rest of what they had discussed, had some strange and unwanted effects. Still, she pushed them aside and categorised it all under silly and ridiculous.
Opening the door, she stepped inside and found the other woman placing a book back on a bookshelf on the right side of the room. Through knick knacks and whizzing baubles, Hermione watched the other woman aim a glance back over her shoulder to take a look at who stepped in.
"Hey." Greeting Hermione simply, closing the door softly behind her. She tread forward and met the other woman, tucking her hands away into the pockets of her jeans.
"Hello, Madame Granger." The Headmistress greeted the younger woman who neared.
There was a moment where Hermione felt a little bit at a loss. It only lasted a few seconds but she could feel herself growing awkward as she looked into the eyes of the other woman who only peered back, wordless, with a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Well," Hermione began, breaking the somewhat awkward silence between them and brushing past the Headmistress to take the stairs curling behind her desk up toward the balcony. "What would you like to discuss today, Minerva?"
Minerva, oblivious to all things housed within Hermione's head, followed the young witch up the stairs, listening.
"I would like to know what the next steps are… Thoroughly." Minerva answered. She watched the young woman wander toward the stone railing, out into the open air, and lean on it, folding her arms upon the stone as brown eyes gazed out upon the grounds, and the mountains beyond.
"Thoroughly." Hermione repeated, the presence of the green eyed woman stepping up beside her was felt, especially as their elbows somewhat touched when the other woman mirrored her and folded her arms upon the stone railing.
"Please."
Glancing at the woman alongside her, Hermione appraised the other woman's features. Angular, pale, piercing… Delightfully relaxed. It seemed as though Minerva had settled into the reality quite well, all things considered. Hermione, on the other hand, wore a rather subtle expression of thoughtfulness.
"Frankly, I'll need to address St. Mungo's as quickly as I can once you decide when you would like to admit yourself, then I'll need to have the Head of General Surgery sign off on your procedure… Give me an OR, give me the right to staff it… The operation itself, I hope, would only take a few hours… But the recovery time is entirely dependent on you." Hermione explained in an impressively calm tone, as though she were simply explaining how to make a cup of tea.
The Headmistress looked out across the grounds and the mountains beyond and felt that old weight pressing down on her shoulders. A bit of anxiety.
"When do you think would be a good time?" Minerva asked, not looking back upon the face alongside her own.
"If I had my way, we'd be prepped and ready by tomorrow morning," She replied honestly, inspecting the side of Minerva's face which paled, if that was at all possible. "However, it's not my choice… I can't beat you over the head with a large text book and drag you to the hospital like a caveman…"
"And thank bloody Merlin for that…" Minerva mumbled before Hermione carried on.
"So, it really is your choice… But I do caution you that the longer we do wait, the more unpredictable it becomes and the harder it'll be to remove… As it is, it will already be trickier than I would like."
Humming softly, the Headmistress ran her tongue over her front teeth. She hated the pressure. But, in a way, she had to remember she had mounted it all on herself. As much as she would have liked to blame someone else, she couldn't.
"Sunday," She announced with a sigh. "I will allow it on Sunday… It gives me a few days."
"Sunday, it is then - Two weeks of recovery before the start of Fall Term… We can do that." Hermione agreed, relief flooding her at the thought of finally getting to the root of the issue and solving it. It had taken long enough.
"One condition…"
"Anything." Hermione told her, brown hues meeting green beneath the sunlight shining down above them.
"I would like for you to explain to me everything, every minute thing you will do, no matter how minor it may seem, and what is going to happen… I'm not fond of surprises."
"In terms of what, my dear?" Asked the young doctor, turning somewhat and leaning on her elbow on the rail, her features growing inquisitive.
"In terms of the procedure," Minerva told her quite seriously, the look about her eyes giving off that insistent sort of indication of someone who had power who hated not being in control. "From beginning to finish… I would like you to walk me through everything, just so I understand."
Pursing her lips, Hermione thought about it. It was hard to say what was going to happen exactly until she got in to take a look at the damage, however, she could think of seven different scenarios and how they could play out very easily, each with a varying degrees of difficulty, depending on what she found when she cut in.
"Alright," Hermione gave her head a nod. "I will explain everything I can, I know how difficult it can be when you feel like you're not in control of what's happening around you… So, let's grab a drink, yeah?"
"Thank you, Hermione." Minerva mustered up a thin smile, glad for the understanding, and together they grabbed some chairs from the office to bring up to the balcony, and a bottle of brandy from the Headmistress's stores, something to take the edge off as the women basked in the sunlight and discussed together the plans for the weekend, and, finally, the plans for Minerva to get herself back into full working order.