Hallo everyone,

this is my translated fanfiction with the HG/MM pairing. Originally it was posted in german, so forgive me if I use some words incorrectly, etc.

Have fun and let me know, what you think! :)

1. Figs and ambergris

Silence surrounded her. Thundering, booming, all-encompassing silence. She sat on her ears like wax. She heard nothing - no noises no, sounds. Only felt the thunderbolts that broke through the castle grounds. The earth shook, groaned at the load. Another quake hit the castle.

Her body was shaken, she slumped and slid down the stone pillar, where she finally came to a standstill. She was tired, so tired! Black shapes of Death Eaters ran past her, shouting orders at each other.

In the tumult that surrounded her, somewhere further back in the hall she could see several redheads fighting side by side. Her eyelids grew heavy, her head sagged. Before her eyes closed, she saw the shocking flash of light that finally knocked Voldemort down. Then she sank into a deep, exhausting unconsciousness.

The flash of light spread across the hall, roared through every fiber of every being and finally disappear completely into nowhere. There was a halt. Those who had belonged to the dark side were gasping for breath. Those who had followed Harry Potter stopped moving. In disbelief - as if stunned - they stared at the lifeless body that had been stretched down by the avada of it's own wand.

But the numb faltering did not last long. The first auror soon seized the opportunity and fired a curse at the nearest follower of Voldemort. Panic broke among the Death Eaters. The first who tried to apparate, were grabbed in the fall or even picked up beforehand.

The young woman, however, no longer noticed any of this. Her eyes rested on the boy who had survived. Her lungs contracted painfully from the intuitive hold of breath. But now she let this remaining air frantically escape from her mouth and with this a deep, all-encompassing sob escaped. She started moving automatically and ran towards the black-haired boy, who stood still lost, almost forgotten in the middle of the hall. His clothes were torn, fluttering about him. As always, his hair was completely tangled and now, after the fight, soaked in crusted blood.

The young woman reached him first and fell around his neck, sobbing and gasping for breath.

"Harry," she whispered, choked with tears. "... you are alive," she repeated over and over again. "... you are alive!"

Yes, Harry Potter had survived. And not just him. The two young adults, holding on to each other, were stormily joined by two redheads, who also wrapped their arms around the couple. "Thank Merlin!" they heard Ginny Weasley whisper. Her voice was also choked with tears.

"I thought our last hour has struck," the deep, sonorous voice of her brother Ron, who was holding all three friends in his long arms, now got to them. After what felt like an eternity, they broke away from each other.

The silence that had surrounded them, in which the four had lingered in their embrace, burst like a bubble. Screams, the scraping of benches, and the whimpering of the injured came to their ears. There was absolute chaos and the normally sublime, imposing Great Hall of Hogwarts had lost its luster and glory in one fell swoop. There was blood, rubble, and ash everywhere.

Hermione Granger felt her knees go weak again. There were so many, so incredibly many, who had lost their lives today. Carefully, fearfully, she let her gaze wander further to the pillars that lined the entrance to the hall. A scream escaped her in horror, but it was drowned out in the general hustle and bustle.

"No," she breathed suddenly more tears welled up in her eyes. "No," she sobbed a second time, released herself from her friends and then ran, blind to the dead bodies she stumbled over, to the person who was slumped and bleeding on the floor. She slid to a standstill three feet from the woman and dropped to her grazed knees. Biting pain twitched through her back, but she barely noticed it. Her lined hand found the shaky neck of the woman, who had fought side by side with her hours ago.

"No ... no no no ... not her! Please not her!"

Hermione thought drenched in tears. Tears ran down the young woman's cheeks, but finally she let out a sob of relief. She had sensed her pulse ... Professor McGonagall was still alive!

Her nostrils quivered and a pull got through the bridge of her nose. She caught a scent. She smelled something fruity, fine. The second note was softer; a light scent of ambergris penetrated her nose. She liked the scent, it invited you to linger. Deep in her unconsciousness, she realized that she had always loved figs. The fruits reminded her of him, her father! He'd always eaten them candied, and for Christmas he'd always bought a whole box from the local deli. They had cost a small fortune.

Minerva smiled in her dreamful state. The thought of her father, of figs and that seductive scent suddenly cracked. Something intruded itself on her in her calmness. Something tickled her. Her nostrils twitched again.

A sneeze made its way out into the hall and suddenly Minerva McGonagall was catapulted back into reality. Her eyes widened violently, but she saw nothing but darkness.

Soft darkness, she realized dazedly.

And actually, it wasn't black at all, it was blue. Blue fabric floated over her, blocking her view. The fabric vibrated, trembled, and finally it moved away.

A young woman emerged. She must have leaned over the professor and so robbed her of her view. Her bushy brown locks were untidily tied in a braid that hung unopposed around the nape of her neck. Most of the strands of the front part of her head had come loose in the fight, which was the reason why they now hung damp on her blood-speckled forehead. Deep, hazel eyes caught her gaze.

"Hermione?" Minerva heard herself breath.

"Professor McGonagall ... thank Merlin, you are awake!" Hermione seemed completely beside herself. Her cheeks seemed watery from tears that were still running down her cheeks and Minerva could hear the young woman sobbing. She felt her hands now, which were shaky but gently moved over her limbs.

She cleared her throat to regain her composure and stuttered, "Are you hurt?" Only now did the Transfiguration professor realize, that she was the one on the floor. She dared a quick look into the hall behind Miss Granger and as if by itself her hands found the dirty and stone-covered floor.

She carefully propped herself up on her feet and let the young woman help her up. Miss Granger's hair slid into her field of vision and a burst of a scent that she had perceived in her unconsciousness found its way into her olfactory organ. Her eyes closed briefly at the exertion. But before she knew it, she stood on her feet and took a step away from Miss Granger, who was looking around in confusion.

The Transfiguration professor was about to take another step into the hall when suddenly a sharp, severe pain spread through her spine. She gasped, stumbled, sought support from the young woman next to her. But it was too late. Her consciousness passed one more time, her eyelids closed and she sagged. The last thing she noticed were Miss Granger's arms embracing her, her gasp of surprise and the smell of fig and ambergris that clouded her senses.

Then Minerva McGonagall lost her senses.