"Like ripping a haphazard placed plaster on an untreated wound." She tells herself of the only approach she knows that is strong enough to shake her out of desolation.
She apparated to Hogwarts.
Seventh of May
Year 1998 | First One
Chapter 4
Almost nighttime – Ripping the plaster
Hermione dropped just outside of Hogwarts on shaky legs from her less than faultless apparition. Considering her state of distraction, it was almost a miracle how she did not splinch. She proceeded to the imposing gates with unsteady gait and heavy breathing.
As she drew closer, she noted that the daunting gates have been restored to a more resemblance of its old fixture, one she probably failed to notice when she exited them several hours ago. Unsurprisingly, charms were already in placed, which required Hermione to cast more than a simple alohomora to gain entry; they were also laced with a guarding spell that she needed to break down. By the time the heavy steel unfastened to let her in, sweat is trickling down her back, and quite suddenly a sense of utter exhaustion is descending on her. But she trudged ahead.
Instinctively her feet had carried her further into the ruined castle towards the training ground. Her movements have become slower, partly from an almost empty tank of energy, and partly due to many fallen obstructions. Fallen stone works and other wreckage she had to clear with magic; something she should not be spending in her fatigue. Despite the irrationality of it, she is pushing forward with determined steps, as if an unseen force is nagging behind her.
When at last she reached the grounds, she settled approximately in the same area she always sat whenever she would relent to watch Harry and the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice by Ron's dragging. During the early years, she would go in the spirit of friendship but always with a book on hand to past the time. Later on, she would still go in the spirit of friendship especially when Ron had made the team, but without a book anymore, as she found another way to past the time – looking up at Minerva McGonagall's office.
From the ground one could not really see much, particularly during daytime when the sky is devoid of clouds and the sun is blinding any onlooker. Nonetheless, Hermione would routinely send her scrutiny upwards, trying to catch a swish of emerald robes. She likes best watching the practice at nighttime for those have yielded to more occasions wherein Minerva spared few moments to observe the Gryffindor team from her window.
Once while watching the practice, she beckoned Angelina Johnson to fly up to her window. Later when she asked Harry about it at dinner, he said that Professor McGonagall instructed Angelina to check Katie about her arm if needs bringing to Madam Pomfrey as she noticed an unnatural litheness in her left shoulder. It turned out that Katie had over-soothed a strained muscle due to an excessive application of soothing balm. That prompted Ron to remark, 'blimey if she could spot that more than 50 feet in distance, no wonder she catches every copied homework even if one had done re-phrasing'. Both her best friends including other Gryffindors seated beside them had a hearty laugh at it. She on the other hand shuddered at the realization that her occasional gawking may have been fully noted by the older witch.
That night she had hard time sleeping, worrying about the implication, and only fell asleep around two in the morning when she convinced herself that the 'occasional' was just handful of times. When she next watched the team's practice, she brought a book and was completely mindful to not look up. Moreover, she started to consciously limiting her staring at the woman especially during Transfiguration class, and forced herself to stop looking at the head table in the great hall during mealtimes.
For every one-on-one scheduled lesson with the professor at her office, she would mentally prep herself to strictly focus on the teachings of advanced transfiguration, and not on the teacher's superior mind and elegant movements (and captivating emerald eyes). The single-mindedness she would employ on these sessions actually resulted into her much superior learning; a truly impressive accomplishment at her young age. Whenever the professor would tell her so, the mix feelings of gratification and inexplicable aching to be of the same caliber as the teacher would only heightened inside her heart.
'It doesn't matter now that this all…'
Unable to finish her thought at the sound coming from her right, she immediately casts a shield charm on her to repel debris. About twenty feet away from her, a segment from a pole from one of the hoops had finally collapsed, producing a sort of an avalanche of rubbles and clouds of dust around her. But as quickly as it arrived, the commotion was gone, leaving the last of the dust faintly falling here and there as Hermione withdrew her charm. As she slowly takes in the ugliness that transpired less than a week ago, her mind plummeted to a grave memory expedition.
Similar to riding a bullet train and looking at the windows, Hermione started seeing myriad of images of her life at Hogwarts in a repeated loop. From the first time she arrived at the school train's platform with Hagrid calling the first years to him… through most of her classes… great hall dining experiences… their discovery of fluffy… her trips to the school hospital wing to visit Harry or Ron or both, or have herself be healed… to their points earned and points lost… to their detentions… to her endless library trips… to their basking mindlessly around the school ground… to their many adventures… and the last time she boarded the train in her sixth year looking at the castle she had come to call home.
Her mind knew it will not be the same but she hoped against hope that somehow it will be okay. But the next time she set foot at Hogwarts, it was the night of the battle. In truth, it seems that for the first time, she is coming to terms to the events with thundering clarity.
# # #
That night when they sneaked into Hogwarts, her chest was pounding not only from the atmosphere that spelled an imminent finality, but also for being in the same place with the witch that plague her mind and heart during their long absence.
One could say that the all-out-war that evening literally started with Minerva's first firing at Severus Snape. Hermione had to struggle with her ardent desire to attach herself to Minerva, and protect the witch with all her might, but it was her ever-logical mind that kept her focused with her own role in this war; help Harry destroy the rest of the horcruxes.
Throughout the entire time they were battling for their lives, Hermione had mantras affixed in her heart that kept fear contained when she lost sight of Minerva. The adrenalin coursing in her is riding with repetitive phrases of, 'Minerva is one of the most powerful witches' and 'Minerva is a very proficient witch'. Hermione did all that she can to survive the battle by grasping on hope, hope associated with the endurance of one esteemed fighting witch… The witch who had taken the mantle to protect Harry, to defend Hogwarts, and to fight for them; fight for goodness.
Throughout the castle, she had glimpsed of Minerva's potent magic that held darkness from winning. Spells so fast coming from the witch eliminated the advancement of the death eaters, vanishing several into charmed dungeons if she could afford the option to not end their lives. She had seen moving statues and animated objects clashed with the enemy and she was sure that the incantation that brought them to life came from the thin lips of one transfiguration master, no other than Minerva.
At one point she bore witness at the witch's fearlessness in facing Voldemort herself when they all thought that Harry had fallen. In that moment, fear for Minerva engulfed her entire being almost into a paralyzing state. It was the determined blazing emerald eyes that snapped her into action and strike back at the death eaters for an all out finality. They knew about the prophecy and with Harry gone; they knew that Voldemort's dark magic is almost unstoppable.
But there was Minerva McGonagall… steady hand with her wand… taking on the ultimate enemy without a pinch of reservation — becoming an apparition of what Godric Gryffindor had meant about courage in facing evil. For Hermione, It was the most terrifying moment; it was the most majestic moment.
As the sun started to rise on them, ultimately pronouncing triumph for the good side after Harry killed Voldemort and most death eaters captured, there is only one thing in Hermione's mind: Find Minerva.
Quickly checking Harry and Ron and satisfied with their general state, she set on to track Minerva's whereabouts amidst the rubbles and destructions. When she found the older witch, numerous people were already in queue, all needing something from the woman. Hermione not wanting to add to the pile had kept her distance but kept Minerva in her sight from then on.
During these crucial hours of the aftermath when most are still confounded on how and where to go next, Hermione closely watched Minerva went about the business of carrying on the British wizarding world on her shoulders. She watched Minerva briefly counseled Kingsley on immediate actions for the Ministry to prevent further chaos and rein in control. She watched her organized treatment of injuries and needed transfers with St. Mungos Officials. She watched her instructed the Hogwarts Staff to arrange food distribution and prepare temporary resting quarters for the survivors. She watched her provide comfort to those with dead loved ones. She watched Minerva dealt one concern after the other with competence of a war veteran.
Here and there, Hermione would help out, but she would immediately go back within the vicinity of the older witch, irrationally feeling insecure if she could not see the woman.
At one point, Hermione had seen Minerva discarded her robes as they were already in unsalvageable condition. This left her in a simple long sleeved blouse with a vest and paired with slacks, clothing she had underneath the aforementioned robes. The clothes are in less sorry state but still riddled with several slashes, and sullied with dust, debris, dried sweat, and even droplets of blood. The woman's eyeglasses are also nowhere, keeping her face unobstructed but also grimy with an angry gash on her temple, but thankfully had stopped bleeding. And lastly, her customary tight bun is in disarray with most sections of her hair on the loose. Undeniably the woman has the appearance of someone who just came out of a hard fought battle – and won. Hermione could not help but soak in the sight of Minerva— looking no less than a victorious warrior.
It was close to 7 hours and almost midday when suddenly the endless concerns opened a gap, leaving Minerva alone for the first time in a semi-secluded corner. Apparently the woman had realized the surprised interval, which for a moment took her quite uncertain. But an observer like Hermione could not miss out the witch's immediate shift in mentally running through a list of matters of import, seemingly deciding which she would attend next.
Hermione continued to watch her longer, weighing if it would be too intrusive to go near the woman at this time. But when the woman licked her dry lips in concentration, Hermione had decided to finally go to her.
"Here." Hermione handed a tumbler that she had earlier gotten hold from the kitchen. She had placed a cooling charm on it, waiting and saving to give it to Minerva. "Its just water." she added at the puzzled and surprised look of the older witch.
"Thank you." The older witch expressed her appreciation and accepted the proffered drink before she took a swig.
When the woman finished it in one go, Hermione only then had grasped that the woman had been in dire need of hydration. She was irritated at herself for not having the forethought. "I'll get you another. Would you like a sandwich or maybe a fruit?" she offered to Minerva.
"No. No need. And I'm not hungry. And again, thank you." Minerva replied as she magically vanished the now empty tumbler. "And you, have you eaten?"
"No, I'm… choosing not to eat. Probably same as you, afraid I wouldn't keep it down." Obvious understanding passed between them of the horror that just ended, and how eating is the last thing their plaguing stomach would accommodate.
Before any of them could say something else, Hermione had ripped a small part of her sweater, which was ruined anyway, and transfigured it into a clean moist cloth. She stepped closer to Minerva and pressed the article into the older woman's left hand, and guided it to tenderly wipe the grim at Minerva's temple, while carefully avoiding the gash.
Truthfully, the younger witch's intimate actions had stunned both of them. Remarkably, neither bolted away upon realization. Hermione though had kept her eyes on the older woman's temple and avoided the emeralds; quite uncertain on how to handle if her brown ones make contact during such close proximity. They also have remained silent, perhaps not wanting or not knowing how to give voice to the unexpected closeness they are currently sharing. It is only when most of the griminess were removed from Minerva's face that she took a half step back and broke the physical contact…and the silence.
"Are your burns superficial? Have you seen Poppy?" asked Minerva, being the first to recover, as she shot a glance at Hermione's singed left shoulder.
"They are." Responded Hermione in a placating manner, as she unconsciously yanked her sleeves. "Poppy is too busy attending to the more serious injuries… I'll try to find for a healing balm later."
What Hermione did not want to add is that the hospital ward was full to the brim that the frenzy is spilling into the outside hallway. It was enough reason for anyone who does not need immediate medical attention to stay away. But then, she could guess that Minerva knew that already, as she had seen her talked earlier with mediwizards from St. Mungo's Hospital.
"Your back is bothering you," remarked Hermione. She ignored once again the surprised expression on Minerva's face, of which was quickly replaced with a look of indifferent dismissal. Needless to say, the woman had been masking the pain from showing that she didn't think it would be noticed by anyone. Hermione would have missed it as well had she not been observing the older witch for the last few hours.
"I know you have not seen Poppy either for the same reason. Not to mention you really didn't have time; everybody had not stopped needing your attention. But I do hope you have it checked out later."
Hermione extended one hand and gingerly placed it near the older woman's hip, employing the gentlest touch to avoid damaging any other unseen injuries. She heard a quiet but unmistakable deep intake of breath from Minerva as she tries to examine the thin, much too thin body in front of her.
"I don't see any bleeding. But how much pain are you in?" Frowns on Hermione's face appeared with her question as she continued to gently examine the older woman.
"Just previous injury acting up, in the light of — recent activities..."
Hermione heard Minerva's explanation in a strained voice. The non-answer answer made her dropped her hand in alarm. Her frown deepened in a rising worry about Minerva's unattended injury; she started searching her brain for any useful information. Unfortunately, the negative elements of internal bleeding and trauma are the ones intruding her mind. Her pulse started to rise with her worrisome thoughts about Minerva.
Then her mental research abruptly halted when she felt Minerva's hand on hers, that tugged for her attention, and intent to take her away from the anxiety. Despite the silly damp cloth they used to clean Minerva's face that the older woman maintained holding, their fingers had automatically interlaced once they connected.
"When Tom's curse threw me, I landed hard on my back. Mercifully, my ribs did not crack, a little swelling, yes. As to the pain, let's say it didn't help that they are the same ones I previously fractured from Umbridge's attack. But it shall be fine."
The unexpected openness by the lengthy description aimed to ease the younger witch's worry. But the effect is proving the opposite; the account is shockingly hurling Hermione into a panic attack. Hermione exactly knew what Minerva was talking about. Without warning, her mind replayed the events with fearsome clarity, first the older memory with Umbridge, then with Voldemort.
Umbridge and her goons attacked Minerva more than a year ago with four stunning spells. That time, Hermione with other students were taking their Astronomy exam when the commotion began. They drew to the windows and witnessed the horrid episode – Minerva McGonagall was hit on her chest and shoulder, and tossed her several feet in the air before landing hard on the ground.
The thundering pounding in Hermione left her uncaring about anything else, but the appeal to jump off the tower in order to get to the unmoving witch on the ground. The arrival of Madame Poppy and other professors who swept Minerva to St. Mungos had stopped her from summoning a broom so she could fly down to the woman; never mind that she fears flying. She could never really remember how she got through the next couple of days until she had learned from the School Medi-witch, after numerous trips of inquiry, that the emerald-eyed witch had finally gained consciousness. When Harry finally told her that he saw Minerva arrived from St. Mungos, she tried her damnest to not cry in relief.
The other one only happened hours ago; the one that involved Voldemort and the most frightening scenario of Hermione's entire life. When Minerva engaged Voldemort in a duel, Hermione's heart almost stopped at the deadly spot the emerald-eyed witch had taken. She knew that the evil lord has no second thought in using the killing curse and it made her insides freezing cold.
"I am alright." Hermione heard Minerva say, but the onslaught of tremor is already coursing through her, pounding her pulse into an overdrive. In her mind, the most horrible sequence had continued in the most horrible ending — of Voldemort disarming Minerva then hitting her with Avada Kedavra.
As if the older woman had read the fragmentation inside her head, she felt being drawn closer with their clasped hands. She knew that Minerva's free hand started palming her trembling cheek to calm her down, but she was already crashing down with previously unexpressed fear.
"I'm still alive." said Minerva, firmly but gently to assure Hermione.
"I was so afraid that I would never see you again. That I would die. Or you would die." Hermione could not stop herself from plummeting into a breakdown, finally voicing the terror that grappled her heart for long several months.
"Hush darling, we're both alive," a thick Scottish lilt whispers to her, ensuring.
Terrified that the gathering tears would start to fall, Hermione closed her eyes and kept her head down. She felt Minerva lightly run one hand into her hair, affixing strands behind her ear... The gesture repeated now and then to comfort her, and it did bring her such. She wanted to crush the older woman into her arms but fearful that she might cause aggravation to her injury with an embrace. And more frightened that the far too bold move may be unwelcome; she settled clutching both her hands into one of Minerva's like a life support.
She did not how long they stood that way, she couldn't tell, not when all her senses were tune-in with the fact Minerva hands were tenderly comforting her. She was entirely lost in the moment until she felt Minerva made adjustment to increase the space between them. When she opened her eyes and look at the woman, Minerva's eyes are directed over her shoulders then she heard her say softly, "Hermione, we'll talk more another time."
Hermione understood quickly— Interruption is coming their way. She released her hold on Minerva but neither had move further away for few more seconds, preserving whatever they were sharing for one moment longer. When one of the approaching wizards started addressing Minerva in need of her direction, they smoothly turned in different directions, and effectively dislodged their startling connection as they went about their ways.
Rounding the corner, she almost ran into Harry. She heard him telling her that he had been looking around for her, as he intended to drag her into a sleeping clot and get some overdue rest. She took his offered hand and the two of them started heading to their makeshift sleeping quarters where she found Luna, Neville, Dean and Seamus already asleep. Without asking, Harry told her that Weasleys are in the next quarters.
After just four hours of sleep and another half hour trying to get more, Hermione had given up on it and finally open her eyes. Though dead tired, she was too wired to stay in bed, plus it was approximately five in the afternoon, her body refused to sleep at such hour.
Upon getting up, she was surprised to see herself in clean ivory pajamas, with her shoulder nicely healed of which she could detect traces of burn-healing balm. She knew she attended neither detail before she succumbed into exhaustion. She was a bit puzzled if Harry had taken care of both, perhaps he did as he is also in similar clean set of pajamas.
She tried to recall how they simultaneously got into their mats, almost crawled with weary bodies as they set the sheets next to each other. She remembered him talking to her as they had lain down, which she can only recall in bits and pieces about their room mates taking dreamless potion and how some Weasleys, which included Ron and Ginny have decided to go back to the Burrow tomorrow. Other than those she can't recall more, perhaps her mind was too full to the brim of what she just shared with Minerva, which she carried into unconsciousness. Maybe she had already fallen asleep when Harry decided to take care of their sleeping clothes and her shoulder. At any rate, the caring gestures warmed her heart.
Seeing that everyone was still sleep and not wanting to wake anybody else in the converted sleeping quarters, Hermione quietly got up and transfigured her pajamas into casual clothes. Then she searched for an undamaged bathroom for a quick shower before proceeding to the great hall or what has left of it. She had hoped to catch Minerva there, but the witch was nowhere.
After not finding Minerva at dinner, she began hunting for the older woman without drawing attention to what she was doing. Around 10pm when most had shown up at the great hall for dinner or late dinner, there was still no Minerva. She was about to abandon subtleness and ask for Minerva's whereabouts, but Harry actually beat her to it. Only then they found out that she was at the Ministry to deal with the captured death eaters.
"Why is Professor McGonagall needed to sort that business?"
Hermione heard Harry's question. After observing the said witch maneuvered important things right after the battle, she is not exactly surprised that Minerva would check things outside of Hogwarts, nonetheless she was curious for details.
"You think your Transfiguration Professor who is the presumed Headmistress of Hogwarts should not be involved?" Professor Horace Slughorn asked back.
"Professor, I don't mean she shouldn't; I'm actually interested on the extent of the role of the Headmistress of Hogwarts on these things."
"Her involvement has nothing to do with her being the Headmistress." Professor Pomona Sprout interjected to answer Harry.
The Head of Hufflehuff House tactfully but accurately explained, that with so many victims related with Ministry officials or employees themselves, it is conceivable that lack of restrain for retaliations might occur, given that wounds and loses are much too raw if the matter is mishandled. She need not say that even good grieving people like Arthur Weasley may be tempted to use his influence to fast track revenge, instead of letting justice correctly settles things. Considering that there are quite a number of Ministry employees who are in the same boat as Weasley, it has the potential for an ugly affair.
"Minerva's involvement will provide equilibrium to a delicate situation. Her reputable name and involvement in the war will not be questioned; her good relations with many families will bridge foreseeable disagreements." This time, Professor Filius Flitwick plainly added as a matter of fact.
Of the same night, Hermione heard but unsure of how accurate the information that Minerva was to facilitate an assembly with several magical creatures. The details were hazy but it said that the meeting is to immediately draw reconciliation with those that got involved. Or at the very least, a reinstatement of territories to each group accustomed to their existence.
Hermione is totally lost in comprehension and burning with curiosity but no one seemed more informed. Again, Harry beat her in asking Hagrid about it. Their half-giant friend could not really confirm but told them that he once heard from a giant acquaintance that Minerva McGonagall is one of the few humans who had been welcomed in different kingdoms. He proceeded to tell them more, which isn't much.
"You know, she can at will be a creature outside but her communication and magical powers intact as if still in human form. It needs in dealings with other creatures to enter their world. Obviously that is hard. How you can without a wand or words? But she has no trouble with it I reckon. Also the great professor, who is obviously the would-be-Headmistress, took and passed the magical creature entry test a long time ago. And I have nought idea how one can even qualify to take the test."
For the first part of what Hagrid had described, Hermione could understand. While some may train and successfully transform themselves physically, a complete control of human mind is not straightforwardly carried over. Then there is the direct control of one's magical ability in another form; it is multifaceted in and of itself. Even Harry recognizes that it involves the highest intricacies of magic.
However, for the second part where Hagrid mentioned about a test, she could see that Harry is as clueless as her, and as interested to find out more. When they asked Hagrid to explain the test that he mentioned, he could not elaborate further.
The next day, Hermione rose very early in the hope to catch Minerva; once again the woman is nowhere. She found out that indeed Minerva had returned mid-dawn and only to change robes and to attend to extremely urgent Hogwarts matters. Then the witch left the castle before breakfast, before most have awaken for the day, hurrying to address more imperative concerns like aiding Griphook with the full restoration of anti-Transfiguration wards of the Wizarding money at Gringotts.
Arthur Weasley despite in grief for the current loss of Fred– actually managed a small smile at Hermione's look of pure astonishment (plus Harry's and other Weasley kids) at finding out that their plain Professor in Transfiguration has always been fundamental in securing the Wizarding Financial Institution. He recalled having the exact reaction, many years ago when he first joined the Ministry and discovered of McGonagall's complex skill, which has always been essential to the Goblins in order to protect the wizard currencies.
That morning, 'The Daily prophet' released a single sheet special publication containing nothing but two announcements.
'Kingsley Shacklebolt is the interim Prime Minister for Magic until proper election.'
'Minerva McGonagall is the Official Headmistress of Hogwarts.'
Unsurprisingly, there was no comment from the new Headmistress. On the other hand, attached was Kingsley's picture as he was quoted in half jest that 'I only have the job because McGonagall has chosen Hogwarts over the Ministry.'
While Minerva's expedite confirmation as Head of Hogwarts was shocker to no one, Hermione was a little startled at everyone's seemingly murmurs of agreement to Kingsley's remarks. Did Minerva have the chance to take the headship of the Ministry? She wonders why that was somewhat a surprise to her, when apparently to others it wasn't.
Halfway during breakfast, Professor Flitwick declared that after the initial cleanup, they could tackle repairing the castle, but will concentrated on specific areas. Hermione suggested to him that perhaps they first make assessment of the structure's integrity for safety. While he was obviously pleased for her sound prompting, he informed them that Headmistress McGonagall had already inspected and assessed several structures and found them intact, leaving him a parchment containing the list of the specific areas they could begin with.
The small charms professor unnecessarily re-assured Hermione that the Headmistress had even started renewing the foundational re-warding as added precaution. The good professor obviously mistook the disbelief on her face; he assumed that she is still worried about the structure. But Hermione was just too shock, shock of when Minerva had managed to do the inspection – and the warding — amongst the many matters she was already occupied with.
At any rate, Hermione would find herself re-organizing the chaotic library of Hogwarts. She started rebuilding the blasted walls and collapsed shelves, before taking on the shattered study tables and chairs. When those tasks were done, she turned her attention to the books themselves.
She sorted, cleaned, repaired, and shelved thousands and thousands of the books and piles at one corner those beyond mending with a heavy heart. Being the sole person interested to immediately fix the library, the job consumed long hours that jumped into next day before she had the place back at its almost original organized state. By midday, she finally emerged from the library with satisfaction and proceeded to find Harry.
At the west wing first floor where repairing activities for the many destroyed classrooms and hallways are obviously at full force is where she found Harry. Her best friend observably caught her slightly raised brows, reading her surprise at finding people whom she had expected to be long gone but still around because when she reached his side, he gave a casual shrug. "Probably like us, staying until they have a clue on how to sort their own lives." He murmured to he.
Hermione quickly processed what Harry had said about people probably not knowing what is the next step for them. That staying at the castle is pretty much a safe answer, and a productive one. Although in her case and Harry's, where else would they be, honestly? And more honestly, she knows Hogwarts is exactly where she wants to be at the moment. Even if the primary reason for such has been absent from the castle. And timely so, Harry made to mention the person in her mind.
"Or until the Headmistress kicks us all out".
At Harry's mocking words, she raised one brow and before she could actually ask what he meant with it, he started explaining. "Professor Flitwick said that the Headmistress does not want anyone feeling compelled to stay for the school's reparation. Furthermore, she is concern that we should be recuperating and not over-exerting ourselves with undertakings that are actuality part of the Headmistress' responsibilities."
Hermione snorted and a sardonic retort is on the tip of her tongue when Harry himself launched his playful mockery. "I know… Incredulous. But Professor Flitwick swore that they were the Headmistress own words. Com-pell-ed and o-ver-exert-ing."
At Harry's exaggerated utterance of the two 'offending' words, they both snickered. Perhaps due to its absolute absurdity, their snickers turned into broken laughs, which they unsuccessfully contained as they continue to murder the two affronting words exclusively between them.
"Mione, I am now compelling you to start restoring the hallway just outside of this classroom but as I want you to over-exert yourself, you may proceed by yourself."
"Yes Harry, after over-exerting myself by completely fixing the library that I compelled by myself to do so, I am now going to over-exert myself with the hallway."
The repartee went on for few more remarks before eventually they realized their forgotten peers who had stopped working and now openly curious to what has gotten over the two of them as they doubled with broken laughter. Straightening herself with super human effort, she stopped laughing and Harry followed soon.
After a moment, she could see his best friend sporting a genuine smile, which she understood that the reason for it is not out of their blabbering but with the realization that they have in fact just shared a laugh for the first time without the war hanging over their heads. A genuine smile also made its way onto her face.
Several hours later while others have continued with their work on the classrooms including those on the next floor, she and Harry had taken on the hallways. Eventually they noticed Professor Flitwick with Professor Sprout started at the other end of the same long hallway they working on. In time their work convened on a single section; at that, they relieved their professors of the task as it was nearing dinner.
When Harry's stomach grumbled for the nth time that had them both chuckling, she also shooed him to the great hall, arguing that she'll get it done half in time without the distraction of his tummy. He agreed but promised to drag her if she doesn't show up within an hour.
Less than thirty minutes later, she sat down beside Harry; a seat apparently saved for her and received from him a glass of orange juice knowing that she has always preferred it over pumpkin. Thanking him and taking a sip of the juice, she forced herself to not inquire about Minerva who she immediately sought but could not find upon entering the great hall.
"I was about to pull you from working, it had taken you too long." Harry told her seriously.
"Oy, it was…" shortly pausing to calculate time, "it was just 23 minutes, we agreed one hour." She answered indignantly.
"Well, I thought your concentration and prowess would get it done in 15 minutes." Harry deadpanned and they both chuckled at the teasing.
Looking at the sole long table, Hermione could now see the rest of the people that have remained in the castle. Most have long started their dinner, but still hungrily digging in, and chatting away. Even Harry beside her is eating pleasurably. Not wanting him to be concerned about her disinclination to eat, she reached for bread and chunked off a piece. She knows she needs nourishment, with a sparse lunch she had and with the volume of work she did, she obligingly feed herself. But she is having a hard time swallowing, as she had not gotten back her appetite.
After a while, the chat around the table seemed to have shifted about the restoration work they are all doing in the castle. Like Harry and the others, weariness is visible in everyone's posture but a sense of satisfaction with a very productive day is also evident. Professor Flitwick, seated at the far end of the table requested their attention to express his appreciation of everyone's aid for the last two days. With slight hesitation, he gently reminded everyone to not feel obliged to stay if they need to be elsewhere as the castle will eventually be done without anyone pushing themselves too hard. While others nodded or shrugged as Professor Flitwick resumes his appreciation for their help, Hermione and Harry shared a snigger, breathing life back to the jokes they both toss back and forth earlier.
Hermione was about to start the ribbing with Harry when Professor Flitwick unknowingly started it for them when he particularly singled out Hermione's incredible work of the library. She humorously responded that she only did it in case there will be a particular task that they have no idea how to fix; they could check the library for the answer. Everyone laughed then returned to their pleasant dining.
Harry on the other hand whispered his teasing of how civilization would falter if fixing a library had not been regarded as the number one thing to do after a battle. Hermione decided to unfasten their earlier blabbering on 'compelling' and 'over-exerting', so she sniggered a rejoinder of how she was helpless not to do so, as the wretched books compelled her to get them done right away even if she has to over-exert herself.
Harry choked on the roast chicken he was eating and this prompted Hermione to tease him more while rubbing his back, telling him that he is over-exerting himself with the chicken. For a good while until they were having dessert, they would dim-wittedly and exaggeratedly make reference with those two inauspicious words.
Then not knowing why, Hermione raised her head towards the far side entrance of the great hall in time for the entry of Minerva McGonagall, who strode purposely to her Deputy.
Hermione has no idea what she actually expected, but when she saw Minerva, after more than 48 hours when she had her fingers interlaced with the older witch, she was unprepared for "The Minerva McGonagall" that emerged.
Vaguely, she heard people starting to greet the Headmistress but she has commenced getting lost in her own world. Reconciling the different images she has of Minerva McGonagall against the one down the long table talking to Professor Flitwick, Hermione is inwardly scrambling at the transformation and yet at the similarity of the 'Minervas' in her head.
She reckoned that the difference is not Minerva's clothes; the woman is just in her usual sensible robes, nor her hair, as they are up in her customary bun. Yes, the woman is not wearing her spectacles but Hermione had seen her many times in the past without it. But still— this is not the witch Hermione remembers before she left Hogwarts with Harry and Ron. Absolutely neither the witch she watched two days ago bloodied, dirtied and worn out. And there is no way this woman is the same one she had shared a moment of exclusive closeness just after the battle. Could she be the same?
A few heartbeats later, Hermione's heart stopped at a starling discovery – of Minerva's radiating power.
For the first time since she had known the older witch, Hermione had never seen her magic as pronounced. So pronounced that with neither a wand in hand nor a spell on her lips, Minerva's magic is nonetheless whirling around her even though she is merely discussing chores with her new Deputy Head. At the almost tangible magic running around the woman, Hermione's eyes widened in fright and astonishment.
Dear Merlin, such powerful witch... Then with a short mental leap, Hermione was led to unadulterated truth— Minerva McGonagall is possible the most powerful witch!
'Of course' Hermione mumbled to herself with details started rushing in her head about the emerald-eyed witch. It consequently knocked her down to an emotional induced attack of wretchedness.
The woman is the Headmistress of Hogwarts, the best magical school there is.
The woman has an Order of Merlin, First Class. Two and will become Three.
The woman is a War Heroine, now THREE times.
The woman would be the leader of the Order of Phoenix, though thankfully unnecessary.
The woman is a Transfiguration Master level three.
While officially level three is the highest acknowledgment in paper, Hermione had long found out that masters have 'unofficial' rank after level three. Professor Septima Vector (who Hermione learned has level 1 in transfiguration but eventually focused fostering her better talent in Arithmancy) told her during her fourth year that amongst the Transfiguration masters, Minerva is considered number seven. She remembered dropping her jaw further when Professor Vector added that while a handful has number four in Transfiguration, no one else alive and no one else in this century had passed number five.
And now- the woman is the focal point in the Wizarding world at the inception of their new world.
Oh bloody hell.
Hermione could not help the trembling that fell upon herself at the clear realization of the tremendous space between herself and the witch… of the woman that served as her north star during the dark days and darker nights that got her through intact. The woman of that magnitude is not for anyone's taking… The culmination is knocking the breath out of Hermione. Minerva McGonagall is heartbreakingly above and beyond her reach. Her bloody muggle-born-turning-nineteen-year-old self is bloody fucked.
Fight or flight.
Fight or flight.
Fight or flight.
She chose the latter.
She started to get up from her seat to leave when Harry's gentle hand settled on hers, impeding her departure, almost making her jump. "Hermione what's going on?" he quietly asked beside her.
She just shook her head in an answer, then nodded at whatever else Harry might have said, guessed that he must have asked if everything is okay. Then right there and then, she told him that she needs to be somewhere. Told him that she would be sorting personal matters and would contact him after. She dislodged Harry's hand on her as she stood up and hurriedly walked towards the great hall exit and looked nowhere else. Harry caught up to her several steps outside the great hall and tightened his hold on her arms when she refused to stop.
"Please Harry… I have to go." She pleaded at him.
"Will you... Will you let me know when you get wherever you need to go to?" Harry pleaded back.
"Will try to write to you tomorrow."
"We swore to never run away from each other Mione."
"I know Harry, I am not… not from you. I… just need to go. Please."
Harry gave her a huge and whispered to her to take care and see him when she could. Not spending one second more, Hermione nodded and dragged herself away from Hogwarts; apprehensive of what idiocy she might do if she stays— like grabbing the Headmistress for a burning kiss or professing her undying love. Such madness... Madness that lit the pounding need to escape and settled like a demanding guest at Hermione's wretched guts.
# # #
A sound of a minor crumbling of stonework roused Hermione from the memory expedition she had embarked. She did not bother casting a shield as it barely sent dust her way and just turned her back on it. The ugly ruins of the training grounds effectively drew her back to the here and now. The war is over. They are supposed to move on. Build on. Learn from the errors. Make due of the promises they made if they make it alive… She is alive… And she made one promise…
Give her heart's desire with full reverence no matter what.
That was the promise…
And it was utterly madness.
Hermione pulled on her 'Golden Brain' and started examining her predicament. She Lined-up arguments and suppositions to uproot the havoc playing in her heart. She has to be logical, has to be realistic if she wants to have a chance out of desolation she buried herself in. So she started her deposition.
They were in a war. She was tagged as one of the undesirables. Hunted by death-eaters and anyone else who wanted to make a fortune out of their captivity and eventual demise.
The overwhelming distress from knowing that with just one misstep, they would not have another day, or another hour, or another moment— it enveloped her day-and-night.
The enormity of Harry's quest, their quest to find and destroy the horcruxes was too burdensome, too straining that many times it brought them to the brink of their own destruction.
While Harry was labeled as the boy who lived and 'chosen' to be the one to end the dark lord, she and Ron love Harry too much to let him do it on his own. And her, marked as the brain of the trio had been thrown the job of coming-up with answers after answers... as if she was a charmed bottomless bag carrying every solution.
Those were the fucking circumstances…
Surely anyone will be lure into making impossible-over-reaching-promises, ones that no one would never make if the situations were not ominous... She can't be too hard on herself, after all she was spinning in ambiguity the moment the three of them decided to take off. Right? Right.
Basically, she gave away her parents. Left home. Quit school. Lived in hunger. Lived in peril.
Who wouldn't be driven to make insane promises?
Then the bloody war stripped her all her excuses and denials.
It shoved her into admission that she is gay. That she is in-love. Had been in-love for quite sometime with one person. Inconsequential that she cannot even figure out how and when it started. And of all bloody witch in their world, that person is Minerva McGonagall. Who at that time was tied at Hogwarts; residing with death-eaters who for certain wanted the woman either dead or be sent to Azkaban. Again, who would not be insane? With worry? With fear? With longing?
Then the tide turn completely- Horcruxes were destroyed. Harry killed Voldemort. The war ended. They lived. She lived. Minerva lived…
Then unexpected and exclusive tender moments were granted to her with the woman, hours just after the war. For the first time she had a glimpse of Minerva who was far from the stern Professor she left a year ago... The woman bloody let her wiped the grim off the face she had stared for six years and imagined for the last year... The woman bloody called her 'Darling' and stroke her hair and was honest with her... Those moments, completely opened her hopeful heart.
And reality crushed it.
Three days ago, her brilliant mind finally caught up; facts surfacing one after another of who Minerva is… versus who she is... Obscurities removed, it delivered her into painful comprehension that the promise she made herself— to be brave and go for the desire of her heart— can never be fulfilled.
It hurts. Like she is living in hell. But she knows she cannot stay in hell. Briefly, she wonders which circle of hell she is in, before compelling her mind to design the strategies she'll have to force herself with in order to get out of her hell. How to go forward.
Find her parents. Find Kingsley and ask if she could take NEWTS at the Ministry right away. Find a job. Find how to get mastery level (nope, not in Transfiguration). Find Harry and Ron and talk to them about living arrangement. Find how to come out to her best friends without losing them. Find an interesting girl who does not have to have those damnable emerald eyes, nor striking intelligence, a passable wit will do...
Maybe, just maybe, one morning she'll get up and laugh at this heartbreak. This chapter she is determinedly closing. She is ripping the haphazardly placed plaster and disinfecting it with hard conclusion and resolution...
She has to stop loving Minerva McGonagall. And stop hoping to be loved back.
"If only things are that simple." Hermione eventually voiced out in exasperation. She took a deep breath. So deep that she felt she just inflated her empty lungs to unhealthy maximum capacity.
Then a clearing of throat from somewhere at her right side made her draw her wand towards that direction.
"Easy Ms. Granger. It would not do well for me to survive three wars only to fall into a… mishap."
Less than ten feet away is the very woman causing havoc in Hermione's being. Minerva McGonagall had managed to go over the debris from the pole that had fallen just earlier without her noticing. She quickly deduced that the older witch was probably in her animagus form that's why she missed her arrival. Or that she was altogether lost in her rumination. Though she had immediately lowered her wand upon seeing that it was Minerva, she realised that she had yet to acknowledge the woman.
"I would never be able to finish a spell without you disarming me." Hermione started her greeting as she turned fully to the other woman. "And at any rate, I would never ever cast one against you."
At this, her brown eyes met emerald ones, both disappointedly and expectedly- Minerva's walls are all in placed. Mental reminders activated inside Hermione of the evaluation and the foregone conclusion she just made concerning the venerated witch in front of her. She decided to take a page from her mentor's book; she physically shifted away from the woman and figuratively pulled up her own walls and barricaded herself.
"You should not be here." Of the tone, Hermione instantly picked up that it is the Headmistress who is speaking to her. "There are still damaged areas that have not been wholly secured, it would be foolish to romp around Ms. Granger." Yep, unmistakably, 'THE Headmistress' is the one speaking to her at the moment.
Hermione wanted to scathingly remark how the Great Headmistress remiss her responsibilities for not immediately attending them, but she found that she couldn't. While she is hurting, she would never intentionally cause pain to the woman she is in-love with. Instead she found herself saying, "May I offer any assistance?"
"Thank you. Your restoration of the library was remarkable, but work at Hogwarts had been ceased."
"You sent everyone home." It was not a question, as upon arrival the locked front gates clued her straightaway that the castle had been emptied. And she ignored the commendation on her work of the library.
"Everyone needs to take some time-off for a proper rest. Following the ceremony, we closed the castle. As much I do want to get things done here, Professor Flitwick asked me not to do any work until he and the staff comes back after a week."
"And yet you are here."
"I had to come, Hogwarts alarm informed me that one of the temporary wards was dismantled."
"I did not mean to take you away from your rest." Hermione is partly surprised at the information. Honestly she wasn't sure if the Headmistress would leave the castle unattended. But hearing the answer to her non-question, it made her both glad that the woman had also taken time to rest and contrite that she had disturbed it. "I apologise." She somewhat mumbled.
"Less than a skillful person could not have it dismantled. You certainly have improved yours, and that is not entirely surprising."
Hermione shifted back to look at the older woman, to better gauge her meaning and she met the impenetrable walls as expected. She could see that a very guarded observation is focused on her. But her gaze detected the slightest twitching at the corner of Minerva's thin lips. 'Who last kissed those lips?' Unbidden thoughts assaulted Hermione.
That threw her back into the emotional upheaval she had began keeping under wraps after her earlier contemplation and chosen resolution. Without warning, her mind jumped at rewinding the poignant moments they shared after the battle. The images flashing in her mind are making her unhinged. In an effort to gather oneself, she shifted again away from the woman, trying to raise more walls around her.
"You cannot stay here Ms. Granger."
Hermione almost jumped at the nearness of the other witch, who apparently closed the distance that earlier separated them. The emotional turmoil rising from within her is now accelerating due to the physical closeness of the older woman… the woman she is in-love with… the woman she is going to stay away from to possibly liberate herself from the insane notion of loving her… from the more insane hope of being loved in return.
"While I know how capable you are in defending yourself, lets not resume to duel so soon in case runaway death-eaters wander from the forbidden forest."
A pale elegant hand touched her shoulder and this pushed her further into the edge. Hermione scuffled for preservation and the weapon she got hold is anger. Hot fury she directed to the mentioned death-eaters.
"Why the hell not?" Hermione is fleetingly conscious of the cracking magic she is unleashing, of which she could not, or rather do not care to restrain anymore. "Maybe we should even pursue them right now while they are bleeding, and lessen their chance of surviving.. Of returning.. Of ever causing suffering once again. Lets find them and cause them permanent suffering or altogether finish them so they cannot ever return."
"Oh Hermione, evil would always try to return. But while they are not around, we must not spend one moment longer in suffering- not one moment as their captive..."
Hermione heard not the Headmistress. She heard not the public war heroine.
The one speaking to her now is the woman who had clasped her hand, and stroked her hair, assured her that she is alive, that they are both alive... The woman who dispelled the tremors after she voiced her greatest terror... The woman with her now is the woman whom she had shared an exclusive tender moments after the battle... The woman is the unknown Minerva she had a glimpse of...
But this close regard granted to her right now by the same woman she had decided not to love anymore is too much for Hermione. The use of her first name and not Ms. Granger is too much. The two hands that now on her shoulders conveying comfort is too much. The heat coming from the woman behind her is too much. The assaulting scent of the woman of olive, ink, and parchment is too much. Her cracking magic and the older woman's radiating power are making Hermione's thrust into the final brink. She feels her oxygen cut out, her vision blurred...
Then everything became black.
End of chapter 4 | Almost nighttime - Ripping the plaster
Small revision: I needed to strike Oliver Wood and instead put Angelina Johnson as I realised that the timeline would be off
Again, I am just borrowing JK Rowling's wonderful characters and spinning them into my own liking :)