Looking down into the incision her ten blade had made, Hermione immediately needed to call for suction to clear away the ooze that had begun to seep from the wound. Moira stood on the opposite side of the table and widened it with forceps. Once they had a clear visual on what was lurking beneath Minerva's skin, they had to glance up at one another.
"This is a bloody mess…" Moira's voice was almost impressed by the damaged tissue. She nearly sounded awestruck by it.
"More suction," Hermione told the nurse standing beside her, who moved the tool in her hand over the more oozing bits. "Look at that… Inches of it…"
"Those margins aren't very clear." Stated the older, more seasoned doctor and she pointed with her gloved pinky finger around its edge. They glanced again at one another.
"Well, the more we stand here, the more likely a complication is going to rear its head… So, let's try and get out what we can easily." Hermione stated, placing down the ten blade on the tray beside her and taking a scalpel with a finer tip to begin cutting away.
Doing her best to salvage as much tissue as she could, Moira aided her by adjusting the overhead light. It was messy, and it definitely was worse staring at it than seeing it projected on a screen, but she kept thinking back to that day in Minerva's bedroom when she ran her thumb over it, lightly pressed it, only to find that it was so… Well, mushy - for lack of a better phrase. That was indicator number one of how this would turn out.
Piece after blackened piece, Hermione removed portions. Every once in a while, she'd glance at the anesthesiologist who was holding their wand above the back of Minerva's head, the tip of which was ever so lightly resting upon her hair, as the older bloke murmured beneath his breath. They would make eye contact, he would nod, telling her with a glance that he was fine on his end, and then they would continue. Eventually, little bits of conversation would pepper the otherwise quiet room. Hermione mostly listened, concentrating on what was exposed as, little by little, she removed the infection that was plaguing the Headmistress.
An hour passed, then another, until they looked like they were nearly done with the blackened tissue and nearly ready to try and start rebuilding the interiors of the layers of muscle Hermione had removed. Which was when the conversation actually began to pose a distraction.
"The patient on Floor 5, such a rude old man, hopefully soon he'll take a turn for the better so he can be discharged." Nurse Wellings told Nurse Sharma from where she stood alongside Moira. At Hermione's side, Evelyn gave a small groan and a short nod.
"Well… He has been here for a number of months, his frustration is understandable, if a little excessive." Evelyn replied, adjusting her suction wand just a little to clear the visual for the surgeon beside her.
"Even still," Nurse Wellings sighed, sounding bored. "Unlike this one, it's not like we can roll out the red carpet for everyone."
Hermione's instruments stilled.
Throughout the surgery, or at least once the lightness of conversation had begun due to the monotony of just having to stand there and every once in a while aid the surgeons, the nurses, or at least one of the nurses, had dropped little passive aggressive comments. Hermione had not addressed them, focusing more on the woman on the table than the woman standing beside her old mentor, however, this she could not simply tolerate.
"Roll out the red carpet, you say?" Hermione's voice was soft, inquisitive, as she straightened and drew herself to height. She gazed across the table at the incredibly young nurse beside Moira, causing the other doctor to glance up, continuing Hermione's work, seeing the look in her brown eyes. The nurse seemed to buckle for a moment and glanced between the surgeon staring into her eyes and Evelyn, who stood beside Hermione, looking for an answer almost.
"Well, yes… We gave special treatment in order to…"
"To whom… Did you give special treatment, Nurse Wellings?" Hermione asked softly, interrupting the young woman across from her.
It was at that moment that the young nurse realised she might have fucked up.
"To the patient, Dr. Granger."
"What's the patient's name?"
"Headmistress McGonagall, ma'am…"
"Ah… I see," Hermione looked alongside her at Evelyn and arched a brow. "I supposed you think so as well, hmm?" She asked as she settled back into leaning over Minerva's back and continuing their work.
"I was a little surprised…" Evelyn began, however, Hermione hardly allowed her to finish before continuing.
"How many wars have you fought, Nurse Sharma…. Nurse Wellings? How many?" Hermione asked them, suddenly capturing the attention of the operating room with such a straightforward question as she cut away another small chunk of necrotized tissue and carefully placed it on a metal tray. What Hermione didn't see was the shared glance between the nurses she addressed. Both remained silent. When the seconds ticked on endlessly, Hermione repeated with a bit more force. "Go on then, how many wars have you fought? We don't have all bloody day?"
Her tone edged toward anger and caused the two nurses to answer in unison.
"I haven't fought in a war."
"None."
"Ah," Hermione's voice grew airy, casual, once more. "I see… Interesting. Isn't that interesting, Dr. Fitzpatrick?"
"Very interesting, Dr. Granger." Moira's deep voice rumbled forth, throaty, and Hermione could tell by the form of her syllables that behind her mask, she was smirking, waiting for her mentee to continue.
"Why is that interesting?" Nurse Wellings asked, leaning in to give Moira a bit more suction as she worked when a blood vessel sprung to life.
"It is interesting because the woman beneath your hand, beneath our hands, has fought in two wars in her lifetime, one of which garnered her the injury we are currently knuckle deep in - an injury obtained by risking her life so that you, Nurse Wellings, might walk down the street without looking over your shoulder every 30 seconds and potentially saving your young life." Hermione stated casually, glancing up to meet the young nurse's eye.
"It's a pity how the young don't keep up with history, isn't it, Dr. Granger?" Moira added with the same air of casualness, as though the nurse at her elbow wasn't there at all.
"Such a pity, Dr. Fitzpatrick." Agreed the other doctor.
"I meant no disrespect, Dr. Granger… But I…"
"But you did, Nurse Wellings… Disrespect us," Hermione's voice turned steely as she, once again, straightened up, her posture stiff, as she peered across at the woman. "By insinuating that we rolled out a red carpet for a person who has suffered tragedies far greater than you can possibly imagine, even within these walls, when all that was required by the Headmistress was to remain in her trousers and shoes, and not to use a wheelchair, these things are not required… And had Nurse Sharma educated you on how I work, it would have been a non-issue…" Hermione aimed a glance at Evelyn who remained silent. "I'm going to assume that by your inexperience that you consider patients who present with anger, discomfort, frustration and impatience difficult… When what you should be doing is considering what they have experienced in their lifetime, show a little compassion, and empathy… Because they are afraid, Nurse Wellings, and what you saw this morning presenting as difficulty… was fear. The Headmistress was scared… And you took it personally."
"Lift suction." Moira ordered the young Nurse beside her, who lifted suction away from the wound as she laid the last piece of ill tissue aside and began to gaze down in the deep hole they had made, while Hermione taught the young Nurse beside her how to human.
"Now that you have managed to distract me with your mediocrity from the work, leaving my fellow doctor here to finish what I had intended to, you can leave the operating room and return to your duties… Before I roll out a red carpet for you… Toward the exit… When you're sacked."
As if on queue, another nurse squeezed partially in between the young Nurse Wellings and Moira, taking the suction wand from the young nurse's hand. Although they were all wearing masks, and Hermione could only look into the young woman's eyes, she could see the depth of anger, tears of frustration, and felt no compassion for the young nurse who she had dismissed. Minerva deserved better. All patients did. The young woman stepped away from the table and tore the mask off her face, as well as her smock, and loudly stomped off, throwing both in the bin by the door, before exiting the operating room.
"Thank you for stepping in, Nurse Bennett." Hermione aimed a glance at the older, shorter nurse that had taken up the space beside Moira. The nurse simply nodded and the doctor's continued on, beginning to call for the restorative potions.
A heavy silence took its seat within the operating room while the surgeons tried their best with their wands and spell activated renewal potions to weave together split ends of muscle fibres. It was a delicate business, however, eventually they had done all they could do, leaving the Headmistress with a large hole that they packed with gauze soaked potion. They closed up as best they could, secured her injury, then moved the unconscious woman onto a gurney and onto her back. Carefully, and with a lot of fussing, they managed.
Hermione wasn't entirely pleased with the outcome. She never was. But when they left the operating room at quarter to noon, they had done everything they could.
In the hallway by the nurses station, Evelyn called for the transport Medi's to prep the Headmistress, she would not remain in St. Mungo's for longer than Hermione thought necessary. With the infection out, the chances of further complication was minimal, and so she would be flighted to Hogwarts where the young doctor would be waiting. But before Hermione could leave, she felt the nurse's hand on her elbow guiding her down and away from the nurses station toward the linen closet.
Hermione only glanced at the side of Evelyn's maskless face that was hardened by anger as she was led into that dimly lit room of shelves.
The door was closed and locked behind them.
"You were a little hard on her, don't you think?" Evelyn asked in a way that was more like telling her as she turned away from the closed door. Hermione lifted a hand to remove her scrub cap, leaning against a shelf of scrubs and bedsheets.
"Was I? On who?" Hermione asked, perplexed.
"Kimberly… Nurse Wellings, you were very hard on her." Evelyn stated, taking a step forward and crossing her arms over her chest. Her brown eyes met Hermione's and the brunette women peered at one another.
"No.. I wasn't hard on her, if I had said a fraction of what I had wanted to, that would have been hard on her, I told her the truth. And maybe, someday, when she grows up she'll discover what it means to actually be in this business." Hermione told the other woman, now, standing opposite her with that disapproving look.
"You think you are some big, big woman around here, don't you… You think we take these hours and don't care? That nurses are second class to you?" Evelyn needled on, narrowing her gaze as she called Hermione out for the behaviour, which she deemed inappropriate, while Hermione continued to lean against the shelf, holding her scrub cap in her hands, eyeing her.
"Where are your standards, Sharma?" Hermione asked. Her voice was calm, despite what the nurse was insinuating about her and her situation. The question seemed to shock the other woman who shifted her weight onto a foot, arms holding across her chest a bit more tightly.
"Excuse me?"
"When we were working closely alongside one another, you saw my level of commitment to patient care… You watched me go above and beyond for any fucking person that was placed in my care… You went above and beyond for the patients in our care… There was no such thing as rolling out red carpets… We took our bedside manner seriously, and the work… Seriously - So, what the fuck happened this morning? Without me, you've decided that you'll settle into the same mediocrity Wellings seems keen on adopting? Or what?" Hermione's tone was calm. It always was when she was that livid, especially at work. However with the calmness, there was a biting tone. A cutting tone. And it made the nurse stare at her in amazement for having been spoken to in such a manner.
"You are not Moira Fitzpatrick, you do not get to strike that tone with me or fucking say…"
"You're right, I'm not Moira Fitzpatrick, because if I was Moira fucking Fitzpatrick, I would be in the chief's office vying to have you both written up for the absolute the fucking stupidity that was this morning and those little comments made about the people relying on us for the past 4 hours," Hermione pushed off the shelf and made a point to call out, raising a brow. "So, be thankful that I'm not… But you know what she expects is the exact same that I expect… Excellence. Across the fucking board, from everyone - excellence. And you were excellent once so… What happened?"
"I saw the way you looked at her," Evelyn shot back, meeting Hermione's anger and taking a step toward the young doctor. The look in her eye and the smug anger on her face made her look as though she were uncovering some little secret. "I saw the way you looked and treated her, you read her like a fucking book and you treated her far differently than you treated any of those other patients you are calling out… So, is that why you haven't been around, no note, the last bunch of days?"
Hermione felt her stomach drop. The look on her face must have said something or betrayed something because triumph lit the other woman's eyes.
"Cheating on me too now?" Evelyn asked further.
Remaining silent for a few moments, Hermione traced the features across from her. While her mind raced, she pushed down the feeling of embarrassment and adorned herself with a mask of calm, even a bit of humour, before she smoothly replied.
"In order to cheat on someone, you need to be in a relationship first… And we are not together, Nurse Sharma," Hermione stated, stepping up to the Nurse until her chest was only a centimetre away from those folded arms. Lips parted to argue and Hermione forced them closed by continuing with more force. "We… Are not together, we… will never be together… And if these last few weeks was an unspoken agreement that fucking equated to a relationship? I was not privy to that whatsoever, and, frankly, fucking… Just leaves me incredibly sad, lonely even, so… No more. I'm not interested. I should have taken that first kiss as a warning sign - We were simply not meant to be friends."
Stunned, the other woman couldn't react fast enough after hearing the young doctor to stop her from slipping past her toward the door. The nurse did turn, however, to see the young doctor stop with their hand on the doorknob, hesitating. Looking back at the nurse, Hermione gazed into the other woman's eyes for a moment.
"Shame on you… Minerva McGonagall fought for the peace we so take for granted, she has been an enduring friend for a very long time, she was the Head of my House, instrumental in saving so many lives… Just… Fucking shame on you." Hermione's voice was only just above a whisper, and then she left, leaving the nurse to stand in the linen closet alone.
When the Headmistress arrived back at Hogwarts, the doctor was waiting. She had been waiting for a few hours, alone, and thinking of little else than the morning and the back and forth she had had with the nurse. Luckily, the minute that the Para-Medi's touched down outside the gates, Hermione could no longer focus on anything other than guiding them toward the school over the grounds with the aid of Professor Flitwick.
Up over hills and into the school, down corridors and to the Infirmary, they guided the small evacuation group into the towering hall and down the middle aisle.
"We need to levitate the patient here onto this bed." Hermione told them, motioning for them to bring the floating cot the Headmistress was tucked in upon toward the last bed down that long aisle. It was the one closest to her office where she could keep the door open and listen.
"Yes, ma'am." One of the fellows stated, motioning for his colleagues to position the stretcher alongside the bed Hermione had pointed out for them.
Carefully, they aligned the stretcher with the bed while Hermione rolled back the blanket and topsheet. She guided and helped with her own wand, along with the aid of Flitwick beside her, to lift and gently lower the slumbering witch onto the bed. Once she was settled in, Flitwick turned quickly to leave to give Minerva the privacy she so deserved, being that she would need to be changed into more comfortable clothes and Hermione was well equipped enough to do so. Once all was settled, the small group of Para-Medi's left the Infirmary and the women to their business, as their own was concluded.
Wasting no time, despite knowing that hours would pass before the Headmistress would wake, Hermione considered trying to see if a house elf would be able to locate some pajamas for the woman. She thought about it for a few moments before taking into consideration that, more than likely, Minerva wouldn't have anything too suitable. She was a woman of flannel night dresses and two piece sets of thick pajamas. Neither of which would really help, especially since every twelve hours Hermione would be required to inspect and sort out the wound on her back.
Deciding it was best to ensure that Minerva wouldn't have to fuss too much with undressing enough for her to get at the injury, Hermione went to her own quarters and found a pair of her own pajamas that she transfigured and tailored a bit, just a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tank top, and then returned to the Infirmary to quickly dress Minerva. It took all of about ten minutes before the Headmistress was comfortably changed out of trousers and boots, out of the hospital gown that was discarded, and tucked comfortably into bed. Taking special care to lift the Headmistress's head enough from the pillow to undo her bun, Hermione was surprised to find how thick the head of hair Minerva had. For the sake of comfort, she loosened the bun carefully and ran her hand through ebony locks, smoothing down the thick mane of the Scottish witch, so that when she laid her head on the pillow, she would be quite comfortable. Her fingertips brushed a few strays behind Minerva's ear and, satisfied, the young doctor stood at her bedside for a brief moment and simply appraised her friend, releasing a sigh.
"You did marvellous today, Minerva." Hermione murmured to the sleeping woman, tracing over closed eyes with a delicate gaze. She knew that the woman would be glad to wake up well outside St. Mungo's, she would be glad to wake in a place that she more or less considered 'home'. But, as Hermione continued to think, it hadn't gone the way she would have liked it too. There was far more damage than she had previously thought. They had two weeks before school term began and a lot of healing to do. Minerva would want to rush it, she sensed it, and that would simply not be possible.
Exhausted, Hermione, still in her scrubs and not having changed back into regular clothes, wandered into her office to grab a book from her shelf, then returned to Minerva's bedside where she pulled up a chair and sat to read until the Headmistress decided to return to the world of the living.
Hey!
Sorry it took so long and it's a little bit shorter! These Christmas times have really hit hard and in my line of work the holidays, generally, lead to a lot of crazy stuff. Anyway! Continuing on and I hope to be a bit more active once the holidays are over. Hope everyone has a great week ahead!
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