Hermione had a hard time sleeping that night. The next night as well. She had managed to send off the owls and received swift responses. Procuring a signature from her old Attending and Orthopaedics wasn't difficult. Once they were passed through to the Chief of Surgery, she was able to give Moira a list of people that she wanted in the room. From A to Z, every person, tool, right down to how many smocks, towels, gauze pouches… Every minute detail was planned like a science. She had, after all, learned from the best.
Of course, Moira being Moira, knew her better than most and ensured that a stereo would be stationed somewhere in there. She knew what environment Hermione needed to work at her best. But even with all these plans, all these details sorted, Hermione was plagued by the conversation she had had in the teacher's lounge.
Infuriated by what Rolanda had insinuated, she found herself pacing back and forth in her office that Saturday afternoon. Her hands were balled in her pockets and she found herself rethinking over every instance between the Headmistress and herself.
First of all, Minerva… Was beautiful. Yes. She was and insanely so. She was essentially candy for the eyes with her ebony hair only just streaked with greying locks, her gaze that, when held, made you feel like you were the only person worthy in the room. Her body… Well, Hermione could only imagine but… She shouldn't imagine. The brunette found herself grinding her teeth angrily at the thought.
Months ago she had filed away the older women as, not only one of the most interesting people and dearest friends, but someone who was purely a person to take enjoyment in gazing at. That was it, that was all - to be seen, appreciated, however, not touched. And that was exactly what should have happened. So why was she losing sleep? Hermione knew that the Headmistress was off limits. And so did Rolanda. So, why did Rolanda plant a seed?
Essentially… It was all Rolanda's fault.
Concluding on that, Hermione removed her hands from her pockets and glanced at the time above the mantle on her office. It was around 3:00 PM. Being a woman with a set Saturday regiment, Hermione opened her office door and began to walk briskly down the line of beds, buttoning her waistcoat as she did, knowing exactly where the silver haired woman was. And boy, oh boy, was she in for a rude awakening when Hermione got her hands on her.
Ignoring the greetings of portraits and ghosts, Hermione took corridors and stairwells down to the grounds with a steely look in her eyes.
When the soles of her shoes met grass, her speed increased. The sunlight and the otherwise cheerful scenery of Hogwarts in Summer did nothing to warm the chill she felt. In the distance, the Quidditch stadium stood tall, proud, on the far left of the grounds. She made off in its direction.
Walking out onto the pitch, it took only a few moments to find the woman stretching, joined by another; her wife.
Wearing the same expression she had since the moment she left her office, she walked along the grass and over to them. Rolanda's wife noticed her first and slapped the silver haired witch's arm, then pointed. Rolanda followed the finger and saw a rather disgruntled Hermione walking over to them.
"Madame Granger! Come for a quick stretch?" Rolanda called to her as she rose from the ground to stand, raising her arms above her head, her hands joined together. Hermione's gaze narrowed.
"I am so bloody furious with you right now, Hooch," Hermione called back, watching a mild look of surprise light up the yellow eyed woman's face. "Hello, Lavinia, dear."
Hermione's tone shifted to warm greeting, and a warmer expression shone across her features when she looked over at Rolanda's wife who smiled and raised a hand in a wave from where she sat on the grass, before Hermione rounded on the silver haired witch.
"Me? Why me? What have I done now?" Hooch asked nonchalantly, placing her hands on her hips and twisting her upper body one way, then the othe as the sun caught the beads of perspiration on her bare shoulders. Hermione's expression hardened once more.
"You know exactly why! Had our little chat the other day, didn't we?" Hermione stood across from her, her hands on her hips as she shifted her weight onto a foot. Peering into Rolanda's golden gaze.
"Oh, come off it… It was just a spot of harmless conversation shared between friends." Rolanda tried to reason, a small smirk curling the corner of her mouth, as her wife watched on with interest, blue eyes bouncing between them from the side.
Hermione's expression only hardened that little bit more. When Rolanda noticed, her smirk faltered a bit. Saying nothing, the brunette woman stared at her, holding her gaze, conveying more with that one look than she could have with words. The Flying Instructor slowly straightened up properly and then realised as she gazed in the young doctor's eyes that there might have been a lot more going on than she had previously thought… The smirk slipped off entirely to be replaced with slightly parted lips.
"Oh…" Rolanda was actually shocked to say the least.
"Yeah… Oh is right."
"Are you bloody serious?" Yellow eyes glanced at her wife who stared back at her for a moment with a look as though to say Don't look at me, I have no idea what's happening right now. Rolanda's gaze fell back upon Hermione who looked like she was torn between actually starting a fight and just… Maybe, crying? Who could say, Hermione was unpredictable.
"I have no fucking idea! One minute, I was completely fine, sure… I was totally fine just not saying anything and looking at her and helping, ya know, bein' a friend… And then you open your big ass mouth and now I'm fucking losing sleep…" Hermione ranted gesturing to the Flying Instructor and back toward the school as she began to pace on the grass. Not even the small breeze did a thing to cool her down.
"Okay, so you're talking about a woman…" Lavinia mused as she leaned back on her elbow on the grass and stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. Suddenly very invested, she wished she had some popcorn.
"I don't lose sleep over women!" Hermione ploughed on, looking like a caged tigress as Rolanda casually folded her arms over her chest in defence, suddenly realising she'd opened a rather interesting can of worms.
"Minerva isn't just any woman…"
"You think I don't bloody know that!" Hermione exclaimed with a flailing gesture, stopping on the spot.
"Ohh… That's juicy… Jesus, what the hell do you have to do with any of this?" Lavinia asked her wife with interest. Hermione had almost forgotten the woman was there. Glancing at the woman laying on the ground in her work out clothes, Hermione just had to shake her head. She felt far from juicy under the current circumstances.
"Well, I noticed the other day that our dear doctor was eyeing up our Headmistress, and I had also noticed that, on occasion, our Headmistress had a rather travelling eye for our dear doctor, so… I might have mentioned that," Lavinia's eyes lit up as she heard her wife's words, but seeing the look on Hermione's face, which was akin to wanting to hex her wife into the beyond, trained her features into a more serious look rather than the humour she felt. "BUT! In my defence, I thought you were going to do the good British thing and push it down… Wayyy down, and repress it, like a good ol' fashioned lesbian should when she wants to scissor with the woman writing her cheques…"
Hearing this, Lavinia threw her head back and laughed loudly, meanwhile, Hermione just stared, horrified, at the silver haired witch who was staring back at her quite seriously, the light of the sun reflecting off those golden eyes and making them ever more bright.
"How very dare you…" Hermione muttered, continuing to mumble something about nothing so base as scissoring.
"So, I'm really not the party you should be so furious with! You're only furious with me because you are now focusing on the feelings that you would have focused on anyway in time!" Rolanda declared walking up to the young doctor who folded her arms over chest.
Laying both her hands on top of Hermione's shoulders, Rolanda levelled with her and the look on Hermione's face shifted from what had been resolute rage to somewhat irritated reluctance.
"Listen… I know that it's absolutely a crock of shit to have feelings for someone like Minerva McGonagall… But, really, there's only a few things that can happen," Rolanda told her frankly, shifting to throw an arm across her shoulders and anchor Hermione to the silver haired woman's side. "A) You'll get over it… At one point in time or another, maybe another woman might catch your eye, B) You won't get over it and you'll tell her about your feelings and then lose her trust and friendship forever…" Hermione aimed a stark stare at the side of Rolanda's face, her gaze hardening once more, before the woman continued. "Or C) Our most hopeful venture, that she'll, perhaps, come to realise what a dazzling star you are and, maybe, she'll have to figure out a few things on her own to come to realise that she rather enjoys having you around… Non-platonically."
"I'd say, give it a little bit of time… Who knows what might happen… But don't jump the gun on anything, ya know… Just be you and be a good friend, sounds like she needs it from what Rolanda's told me." Lavinia added, granting her wife's friend a hopeful little smile as Hermione begrudgingly passed a glance between them.
"You're very sweaty right now." Hermione mumbled, only to have Rolanda squeeze her a bit more tightly against her and under her armpit. A look of disgust crossed Hermione's features and she slithered out of the laughing woman's hold.
"Go… Get on some work out gear, come back, and spend the day with us… Have some community time, girl time, maybe it'll do you good… Besides, you have Minerva tomorrow, aye?"
"Certainly might." Lavinia added, glancing lovingly at her older wife and then toward the brunette who pursed her lips.
"Ugh… Fine… Thank you," Hermione muttered, losing a bit of that angry spark. "Maybe you're right… You sure?"
"Absolutely… Maybe we like the eye candy." Plopping down beside her wife on the grass, Rolanda was immediately met with a hard slap on the arm.
"She's kidding." Lavinia stated, tossing her lover a well meaning glare as Hooch snickered and rubbed her arm.
Hermione just shook her head, the corner of her lips adorning a half smile as she turned to walk off the pitch.
"She'd better be."
At the end of the day, Hermione was thankful for the distraction. She was thankful that Rolanda and her wife, who was a feisty and incredibly strong woman for her unusually slender size, took her in for those hours and let her work through her frustration in a way that was much more healthy than pacing back and forth alone in her office.
Between running, push ups, crunches, lunges, and weight training, came those endorphins that Hermione had missed because she wasn't sleeping at the hospital, nor was she having sex with Evelyn… Evelyn crossed her thoughts a few times and it annoyed her how easily she'd been able to slip into the old habits of working until she felt like she could bleed and sleep with someone who she shouldn't have been sleeping with, all because of this new freedom Ronald had bestowed upon her. Or that she took from him, she guessed. Just because she could now sleep with someone, didn't mean that she had to sleep with someone, in order to be happy.
That was an interesting thing to work out in conversation with the women alongside her. Lavinia, who had spent much of her time as the Assistant Coach to the Holyhead Harpies had seen what it was like being on the road, travelling, with a bunch of talented and driven Quidditch girls. She'd seen the ups and downs, affairs, closeted players… It was interesting to get her take on some of what Hermione was feeling and how she looked at her own situation as this sort of miserable moment in time where, on one hand, she was successful, she had a beautiful friendship with someone whom she had admired for many years, and on the other hand it was turmoil. There was a level of respect to be had for someone you were that close to, and if you were beginning to feel honest and genuine threads of attraction to that person, which Hermione was beginning to realise she was, it had to be considered with such a high level of care.
At 6:30 AM the next morning, Sunday morning, Hermione got herself out of bed, showered, and dressed. She looked at herself in the mirror and she tied her hair back into a tight bun. She gave herself a few seconds to think about the days that had passed and over the conversations she had had and, without the slightest bit of concern, she filed away those feelings once more but, this time, with a better understanding of them.
They were not silly, nor were they ridiculous, they did, however, have no right to take up space when in a few hours time she had work to do. Hermione cared deeply about her friend, she cared about the outcome, and nothing should impede upon that. Especially not her own personal feelings that had no right to step into an operating room alongside her.
Grabbing a light jacket on her way out of her quarters, she turned toward the end of the hall to begin off in the way of Minerva's own quarters when the woman was seen to be rounding down toward her. Minerva didn't look good… But what else did Hermione expect?
The women didn't say a word. Not in greeting, not otherwise, but Minerva did briefly touch her elbow. They wandered down to the lake and Minerva took her arm. Before Hermione had the opportunity to ready herself for apparation, she and the Scottish witch disappeared with a pop only to arrive at the park across the street from the hospital. The sun was only just beginning to rise, the morning was cool, and Hermione could focus on none of it.
The second Hermione's feet hit the ground, she lurched forward and had to close her eyes tightly as a wave of nausea turned her stomach. Truthfully, she hated apparating. Especially unexpectedly. Minerva noticed this almost immediately.
"Forgive me, Madame Granger… I wasn't thinking."
"It's alright," Hermione replied, her voice a little throaty as she slowly stood back up. "Apparating… has never been my most preferred way of travel."
Minerva's hand was on her back, rubbing it, and when Hermione looked upon her she could see concern lighting the depths of her brighter eyes. Right then and there, she wanted nothing more than to wrap the older woman up in a hug, tell her that everything was going to be alright, that she was fine, and everything… Was fine. However, Hermione simply offered up a slight smile and gave a nod to the hospital.
"Time to go, Minerva… We don't want to be late." She told the ebony haired witch who sighed deeply, her hand returning to her side.
"Of course."
Hermione needed to give her something, watching the green eyed woman's gaze shift toward the hospital doors and seeing that look of well-masked panic settle on her features. As though it were purely the norm, Hermione looked ahead to the doors and slipped her hand into the woman's and, without another word, she began to walk forward across the empty avenue toward the hospital. Minerva's hand gripped her own tightly, and, with Hermione, she fell into step.
The lobby was emptier than usual as they entered. Minerva half expected them to walk up to reception and announce her as a patient, however, Hermione walked past it and led her to the elevators. Standing there, still holding to her hand, she watched Hermione lean over and press the button, beckoning the elevator to them, then the young woman straightened up beside her. For a moment, Minerva just glanced at the side of her face, feeling the warmth of the young doctor's hand in her own.
It felt odd. Oddly comforting, strangely intimate, and Hermione seemed completely at ease standing there, simply holding her hand. As though she had done it many times before. Something within the Headmistress buckled a bit. It felt too familiar and something else that she couldn't put a label to.
Before she could say something, the elevator dinged and Hermione's hand slipped from her own as the young woman stepped into the elevator. The break of contact was abrupt and left the Headmistress somewhat confused.
She stepped into the elevator beside the young brunette, and cleared her throat softly, trying to dislodge the lump that was forming there.
"Alright, my dear… When we arrive at the fourth floor, we're going to go to the nurses station and some nurses will take you to a room to get changed," Hermione explained softly. "While you're doing that, I'll be getting into my scrubs, and then they'll bring you to the operating room where I'll be waiting. Once we're there… You'll be moved onto the table, it might feel like you're having chills, like it's cold, but, I guarantee you, it's only nerves…"
"And then what?" The green eyed witch asked, aiming a look at the side of Hermione's face just before the woman turned her head and gazed back at her.
"And then we'll give you a potion… A dreamless sleep potion… And we'll cast a few spells to ensure that you feel nothing and don't wake up until we need you to." Minerva paled as Hermione explained, even though she had heard this all before, and knew the expectation, it was still uncomfortable. Terrifying, even. Hermione met her eye and the look on the younger woman's face told her that she had nothing to fear. "I assure you… It will feel like five minutes have passed, your eyes will close… And then they will open… And it will be over, but, for me, it's going to be a lot longer."
The elevator doors dinged and opened, revealing a fluorescent lit corridor and marble floors, a white wall directly across from them. Hermione stepped off and Minerva hesitated.
"Alright." She said quietly, moreso to herself, as she stepped off with the other woman and let the young doctor lead her down to the corridor. Again, she avoided looking anywhere but ahead until they reached the large U-shaped nurses station.
"Good morning." A deep female voice greeted them.
"Good morning, Dr. Fitzpatrick." Hermione greeted lightly as she raised a hand and gestured for a pair of nurses, one of which Minerva recognised.
"Good morning, Headmistress." Evelyn greeted, holding what looked like a folded gown under her arm, as well as a clipboard.
"Wheelchair, Nurse Sharma?" The other nurse asked Evelyn, to which Minerva shot Hermione a glance. She certainly was not about to sit down in a wheelchair like a bloody invalid when her legs were perfectly fine. Hermione glanced at her and noticed the look in her eyes.
"No wheelchair," Hermione stated. "As you can clearly see, the Headmistress is quite capable of walking, so… None needed."
"Protocol doctor…"
"Fuck protocol," Hermione stated more seriously as she glanced between the two nurses, meeting their eyes individually. "The patient is not a St. Mungo's patient, despite the fact that I will be doing her surgery here… She is a Hogwart's patient - so protocol is what I say it is."
"Yes, doctor." Evelyn seemed to straighten, although the look on her face was a somewhat uneasy mix of confusion and surprise.
Minerva thanked Merlin she'd been present enough to hear that. The nurses guided Minerva away from the nurses station, Hermione watched the three leave and walk down the far hall to a patient room. A presence was felt beside her shortly afterward and Hermione looked up at the taller woman looking down at her with an expression of humour.
"Handled that well." Moira stated quietly, a slight curl at the corner of her mouth.
"Well, it's partly true…"
"Whatever gets the patient on the table, Dr. Granger… I took a look at the file." Moira told her as they began to briskly walk to the linens room for Hermione to grab some scrubs.
"And?" Hermione asked as they walked into the linens room. She quickly grabbed clean scrubs off a rack and a scrub cap, then the women left the room, Moira following, as they wandered into the nearest on-call room.
"It's horrendous… We'll need to find a way to effectively and efficiently replenish whatever muscle you remove, 'else she'll have a bloody crater in her back most likely." Moira told her, locking the door behind her as Hermione busied herself with removing her clothes and quickly folding them.
"That's going to be the most irritating part of this whole process… The rebuilding of the muscle tissues… A few years ago, this wouldn't have been a problem, now?" Hermione shook her head before pulling her scrub shirt over her head and kicking off her shoes.
"Did you tell her that? This isn't going to be a few days of recovery time, this could be weeks…" Moira mused while leaning against the door, gazing elsewhere as the other woman changed and took off her jeans to replace them with scrub pants.
"Of course, I told her that…" Hermione said, tying the drawstring tightly on her waist as there was a knock on the door. Moira glanced over the younger doctor to see that she was presentable and then turned, unlocking and opening the door to reveal an irate looking nurse.
"What can we do for you, Nurse Wellings." Moira asked in bored tones as the nurse looked past her and at the young doctor taking a seat on the bunk bed to put her shoes back on.
"The patient refuses to remove her trousers and her shoes, she's removed her shirt, bra, and put on the gown… She also refuses to get on the gurney to be taken into the operating room." The nurse told Hermione who looked up at her from tying her shoes.
"Really? You came down here to tell me that?"
"She needs to know that she has to remove her trousers and wear the gown and she needs to get on the gurney…"
Moira looked back at Hermione with a raised brow and they shared a look.
"Nurse Wellings… Is the patient having surgery on her ankle or her knee?" Moira asked, taking the heat off Hermione for a moment, much to her pleasure.
"Well, no… But.." The incredibly young nurse replied haughtily, gazing up at the taller of the two doctors and the one which was holding open the door.
"Exactly, no.. Is her back free to be exposed for the procedure?"
"Yes… But…"
"Can the patient not walk? Is she bed ridden?"
"No.. She's not, but, doctor…" The nurse was steadily growing flustered beneath the line of quickly addressed questions Moira was shooting out, Moira was hardly giving her a chance to answer.
"Then tell her that she can keep her trousers on, and her shoes, if she wishes… And then walk the bloody patient into the operating room… Instead of wasting my time, your time, and Dr. Granger's time, with silly issues that you could have solved yourself with a bit of fucking patient care." Moira briskly told the nurse who didn't say another word before walking away.
When Moira looked back at Hermione, she wore an exasperated expression.
"You know, I really thought that getting the young ones meant they'd be more lax on policy." Hermione mumbled, slowly getting up and smoothing over her front with her hands.
"No… That's where you're wrong, they're always so bloody afraid of fucking up that they're uptight… You were like that too once." Moira told her, a little spark in her eye as she let Hermione pass her and wander back out into the hallway.
"Nowhere near as insufferable." She stated as they began to walk toward the operating room.
"Probably more so." Moira teased her in good nature, just to see Hermione smirk.
"How ever did you deal with me."
The women walked into the operating room via the scrub room. They scrubbed and during that time Minerva was walked in. Through the glass, Hermione met her eyes and saw layers of fear, anger, and that mistrust. The nurses instructed the Headmistress to sit on the operating room table, which she did, and then she waited. The way her hands were folded on her lap, white knuckled, was enough for Hermione to know that she was going to have to wash her hands a second time.
Grabbing a mask without finishing washing her hands, she tied it on and left Moira to continue and entered the operating room. A nurse immediately stepped forward and dried her arms while another raised a smock but Hermione raised a hand to stop her.
"Give me a moment." Hermione told the nurse with the smock, hearing the airlock of the scrub room indicating Moira stepping into the OR.
Wearing the mask, Minerva could only really look into Hermione's eyes to gauge her expression. She half expected Hermione to look annoyed but the look the doctor was giving her was quite the opposite. In the lit OR, Hermione strolled forward until her front was pressed against Minerva's tight knees, and laid both her hands on top of the ones held tightly on the Headmistress's lap. Silence filled the operating room as the four nurses, the anesthesiologist, and Moira looked at the strange scene unfolding before them. Of course, to Minerva, the second that Hermione's slender hands fell to her own, she instinctively allowed them to unfold just that little bit and take hold of the doctors. Minerva took a steadying breath.
"These hands… Remember? I've got you, you know every step, and now you really need to trust that I know what I'm doing…" Unusually tender, Hermione gazed only into the emerald eyes of the woman to which she spoke.
Evelyn, who was standing a little off to the side, watched and inspected the young doctor as she soothed the green eyed witch. Her brows knitted just a little bit seeing the look in the young doctor's eyes and she gazed at her patient. She recognised that look. She'd seen it herself aimed in her direction…
"I do trust you." Minerva stated quietly.
"Very good… Now, we're going to give you something to drink… And then you are going to lay down on your stomach on the table, as you can see there's a little ring cushion there for your head," Hermione let go of one of Minerva's hands to gesture to, what Minerva guessed was, the top end of the table. "So, you will be looking at the floor for just a couple moments… And then you will feel your eyelids get heavy, and then you will simply fall asleep."
Minerva nodded slowly, breathing evenly, while Hermione motioned for the anesthesiologist to pass her the small phial in his hands. He did and Hermione gave it to Minerva to drink from. Emerald eyes held a bit of determination. She knew she needed to do it, she knew why, and there was nothing else that could be done. She was already there. It wouldn't have been well to just back out now, not when they were so close.
With a final inspection of Hermione's eyes, Minerva drank the potion she was given and handed the young doctor the empty phial.
"Good, now… You're going to lay down and try to relax, which we know isn't going to happen… But, please, try… And, while you do, I'm going to go and wash up and get ready. It'll be over before you know it." Hermione's smiling eyes were enough to give Minerva the confidence she needed to silently nod her head. The hand that held hers withdrew and, with it, the doctor stepped back and let her do as she was instructed. Minerva angled and laid down on her stomach, fitting her head on the strange circular cushioning that her face could fit in, and peered down at the marble floor. She heard footsteps and a door, an airlock, and determined that the young doctor had returned to the little room she had seen her in before to wash up.
Minerva didn't expect the potion to work as quickly as it had. When Hermione said moments, what she had meant was seconds. It took seconds for Minerva's body to feel like it was rendered entirely useless and for her eyelids to get heavy. It was quiet. Save for a bit of shuffling and then she was asleep.
Hey Readers!
Thank you so much for commenting and continuing to join me on this little journey. I've been having an absolute blast writing it. I do really enjoy writing slow burns when I can and when my patience allows me to, so hopefully I can provide you with a decent story that lasts. I really wanted to give a shout out to the lovely folks sharing their comments and giving me all the warm fuzzy feels while I do the do, I hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it, and I hope you're all happy and safe this holiday season.
Drink water! Hydrate! Eat snacks! Take care out there. Take some you time. :)
All the appreciation,
Haughty