Minerva stirred her terribly sweet tea in a porcelain cup and scratched at her chin thoughtfully. Dilys patiently sipped on her coffee, though painted yet never losing its restorative effect. It'd been a tiresome day full of interesting discoveries. The most important news, of course, was that Hermione Granger regained consciousness. After almost two weeks spent in a magically induced coma.
"Well, this is fascinating," whispered Minerva and took another sip of tea.
"You tell me, Headmistress," Dilys chuckled, leaning back in the armchair. "It was me, after all, who got the pleasure to observe your reckless cub. She's made quite a show there, Minerva, when the Healers insisted that she should stay in the Dark Ward at least for two more weeks."
Minerva glared at her best friend.
"Dilly, please be serious. She barely had time to react properly."
"Oh, but I am being serious, you should have seen her, seriously, forgive my pun. That Lavender Brown girl was trying to stare her down and used all her Healer's personality, trying to reason with Hermione. Everything about dark magic, her depleted core, and, what do you call it? Ah, yes, Posttraumatic stress disorder, and her many traumas, and so on and so force. You see, I have observed that it takes some time for people to fully heal. Not all of them, not at once, but eventually. But, as they are already aware of these things, Hermione wasn't willing to cooperate. She simply refused to be controlled. Poor dear, so young, so brave and so damaged."
Dilys sighed as if she knew exactly what it meant to lose everything.
"The thing is, Minerva, this is the first time Hermione has shown an inclination or a desire to regain control of her life," she murmured softly and placed her teacup down on the little table between them.
"I take it as a good sign," Minerva agreed, letting her gaze wander to the window. The sunlight was shining through the green curtains, illuminating the tiny garden below.
"She has become so withdrawn since the accident; she doesn't eat, she barely sleeps. Her eyes seem dead inside of their sockets. But... it all had to be expected. So, what happened next?"
"Then young Draco Malfoy burst through the open door and right into Hermione's ward. You see, if he is engaged with Lavender Brown and by wonderful occasion managed to become friends with Harry, he thinks that he has an influence upon dear Hermione now," Dilys finished her overly complicated sentence and rolled her eyes. "So, he tried everything. He started a conversation, making himself appear wise and caring to her, made his best at reasoning with her, and finally resorted to threats. Hermione laughed at his face and I quote: 'You are saying that you care about my sorry arse and that's why you are here, but let me tell you one thing, Malfoy, in the past six months I've had enough objects, both animate and inanimate, being shoved into that very arse, so that I would prefer that all of you, the carers, the Healers, the friends, just leave me bloody alone! Therefore, be so kind, and sod off!' Her burst of magic that followed rattled the glass in window panes."
"And what about Draco?" Minerva asked, shaking her head.
Dilys smiled and raised an eyebrow.
"That lad appeared to be quite a lot braver than he seems. He went to visit Hermione several times, even before she regained her wits, and, when confronted with this, he simply said: 'This isn't the end of our friendship, Granger; this is merely the beginning.' And with those words, he nodded at his fiancee and left the room. He was rather shaken by her words about that special part of her anatomy, yet he is as stubborn as she is. He would be of good help."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Minerva's lips as she looked back outside the window.
"You must understand, Minerva. This is a different kind of problem. She needs to feel loved, needed, respected, and she does not know where the boundaries are. Her own set of boundaries..."
"I do understand, Dilys, both you and I, have seen more than three wars, and females' road to hell there was always rather different from males', and I wish we could have prevented everything that happened to Hermione from the outset, but... It is what it is. However, how did it all end?"
Dilys gave her a knowing look.
"Oh, my dear, there is one man who is fully capable of helping her, and we both know about it. As for our girl, after two more hours of vain convictions, Lavender Brown finally had enough of her, so she just stood in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, and proclaimed that Hermione could go home, but if she dared to forget to take at least one of her potions from the endless crate she was going to supply her with, hell would hath no fury than, forgive me my French, a pissed off Healer. And with that, she let her go."
Minerva let out a bitter laugh and looked gratefully at her friend.
"You spent way too much time in the company of Lavender Brown, you even start sounding like her. Anyway, thank you, Dilly."
The former Headmistress shrugged her shoulders.
"It was nothing, Minerva. Now, I think it's time for me to go. I'm sure you have a lot of work to do."
"Oh, well, recent events have completely thrown me off track... Goodnight, Dilys."
"Goodnight, Minerva, and don't overstress yourself, we still need you to talk some sense into those stubborn heads of the whole lot of them, lads and lasses."
After Dilys left that particular frame, possibly retreating someplace where she could retell the latest gossips to Phineas, Minerva sat down on the sofa and stared at the fireplace.
Hermione hesitated before the front door of her flat, not daring to reach for the protective runes above the threshold. She opened her mouth to say the password but then quickly turned around to avoid the pang in her chest.
Her eyes were red and swollen as if from crying and a large lump was lodged at the side of her throat. After a few deep breaths, she gathered her strength, unlocked the door and carefully made her way inside. Once again, her feet were taking her to her room, to her bedroom, but this time, she didn't find the courage to climb inside. All she wanted to do was collapse on the bed and sob until her eyes burned from lack of sleep, from the pain that ripped her apart and caused her to bleed from her heart.
Instead, she slowly moved through her living room and sank into her favourite armchair by the huge fireplace. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the back of the chair. It was warm and inviting, the soft fabric caressing her skin, while all she could hear was the ticking of the clock on the opposite wall. She was in her house. Safe and sound.
Yet, even without seeing any proof of that, it seemed that her body betrayed her mind by shutting itself down. She felt numb, empty, as if every bit of feeling had disappeared and only her mind remained, a quiet whisper echoing the same questions and worries that she could not rid herself of. She tried to think logically but couldn't find the willpower. It was like being in a dream, unable to move a muscle, and yet she had to act; she felt as if something was pulling her strings, forcing her to follow some unknown path. In the end, she didn't fight it anymore; she allowed her instincts to take over.
She got up from the chair, went slowly to her bedroom and opened a wardrobe, trying not to linger there too long, trying not to let her eyes stare at her Auror robes, and her fingers touch the box of her most memorable belongings. With the trembling hand that was clutching onto the handle of that wardrobe, she took out that grey robe and slowly put it on, the material falling gently on her shoulders, caressing the skin underneath, making her squeeze her eyes shut for a second a take a few deep breaths.
Once she was calm, she slowly walked away from the wardrobe and opened a drawer of the nightstand. Inside her drawers, there were some pictures, some letters, some photos, a few trinkets, and a couple of frilly sets of lingerie. Hermione let out a bitter laugh as she took her underwear from there and closed the drawer. Next, she knelt on the floor and took her old travelling bag from under the bed and unzipped it. Slowly, she summoned the clothes, some of which were stained and torn from time, others were still clean and new. Then, she began taking out every article of clothing she owned, starting with her jeans, t-shirts, flannels, a couple of pyjamas, a few sets of underwear, three towels and five pairs of warm socks until she found her favourite leather jacket, the one that was given to her by Harry when she was promoted as a Head Auror. Hermione carefully trailed her fingers along the sleeves, and then put the jacket aside. A thought crossed her mind, almost like an impulse, and she pulled out a silver chain from inside her pants pocket. It was the amulet of , that the Healers of St. Mungo removed from her for a while. Hermione fingered the pendant for a moment and put it around her neck, feeling the warmth in her chest as the silver made the first contact with her skin.
Her next destination was the bathroom, where she thoughtfully observed the long line of feminine products, deliberately ignoring her reflection in the mirror. The last time she had used one of those products, she had spent the better half of her Saturday evening with a certain ginger Auror; the day they had planned to start their relationship and spend their service anniversary together; the day when her best friend decided to throw his life and her future into the fire and had to leave her alone.
Hermione grabbed her shampoo and a shower gel from the shelf, fished the toothbrush out of the plastic glass and got a razor from the medicine cabinet, then took a look around the room. There wasn't much left to do, so she left the bathroom and closed the door. After that, she finished packing, closed her travelling bag, put it over her shoulder, wincing in pain, and walked to the corridor. She tied her shoes, put on her coat and left her flat, lingering in front of the door. Hermione knew that she needed to cast the protective runes, and for that ritual, she had to use the wand. Kira's wand. She unholstered it and held it firmly in her fingers. Aspen and the wool of a golden-fleece ram were the wood and the core of the wand. She was brave deep inside her heart, that Kira witch, she also wanted to believe in something beautiful... Hermione quickly finished casting and turned away from the door. Her place didn't feel like home anymore, she desperately needed to be somewhere else.
The stairs leading to the lower floors of her building were dark and cold, which gave her the impression of a deserted place. Hermione walked down them mechanically as if she were moving through quicksand, her legs dragging behind, each step sending sharp stabs through her spine, causing another wave of pain to surge through her. As soon as she reached the landing, she stopped and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
She knew that she should just keep going. She was too weak to use Apparition, but thankfully he lived nearby.
Her hands tightened around the strap of her travel bag. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself away from the wall and continued dragging her weary bones along the road. She managed to walk to the main gate of the apartment block. It was a gloomy evening and a few lights were still on, indicating that people were still awake or preparing for bed. The sky was full of stars but they were barely visible. The only light coming from his window was from the small night light she once gifted him for Christmas. Hermione didn't want to dwell on those bittersweet memories, as she raised her fist and banged on Severus' door.