A/N: I tried to get to updating once a day but it's not going to work out that way. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep it fairly regular, though. Thanks, Lib McGranger for the second pair of eyes.
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As it happened, Hermione was wildly unprepared for Minerva McGonagall, in Transfigured jeans and a buttoned shirt, astride a broom. She ducked and weaved through the air like one of her friends. The laughter and the yelling were cacophonous but, unlike most other times she'd watched a Weasley quidditch match, Hermione was very much invested in this one.
Though she'd since lost track of the score, it seemed as though Minerva and Ginny were winning and Charlie and Ron were not. As usual, when things weren't going his way, Ron was sulking and Ginny was taking great delight in teasing him for it. Generally, it was Hermione that told her to knock it off, but the pace of the game was too furious for Hermione to get a word in edgeways. To top it all off, the Snitch had been seen no less than four times so far and Harry had, uncharacteristically, missed it all four times. Honestly, Hermione thought that perhaps he was trying to teach Ron a lesson, but as it was she was enjoying the game too much to care for his motives.
Ginny had scored a further two times and Minerva had saved one of Charlie's three shots. It seemed to be worse that Ron was playing keeper - the position he'd won fame and glory for at school - his little sister was picking him apart without mercy. Charlie wasn't exactly patient with him either and while Ronald was her friend, she did wish he was more grown-up sometimes. Maybe Charlie's sometimes harsh instruction was exactly what was needed.
Minerva, however, was like the wind. At one point, Ginny had thrown her the quaffle to avoid a well-aimed bludger and she'd tucked it under her arm and weaved through the boys to drop it through the hoops with a wry grin.
"You'll have to be quicker than that Charlie," she teased as she flew past him. She scored a further four times before Hermione remembered that Minerva had been one of Gryffindor's best Chasers back in the day. She watched the girls - and yes it was bizarre calling Minerva that - pick apart the rest of them until Harry finally spotted the snitch again and everyone turned to watch.
"That's how you fly!" Ginny called.
Harry screeched to a halt, the Snitch in hand, and grinned triumphantly. That grin turned to horror and Hermione followed his eyes to where Ron had grabbed George's bat and slammed it into the bludger towards Ginny.
"GIN!"
It happened in slow motion. As bad things inevitably do. The bludger took the hit and flew towards Ginny, speeding up as it seemed to realise its intended target.
Harry dropped the snitch and started moving, even though Hermione could clearly see that he wasn't going to make it. Ginny had heard their shout and had turned from where she was high-fiving Minerva to see what the commotion was about. As she looked sideways, she saw it and her eyes widened.
"SHIT!"
She rolled on her broom, hanging upside down so it flew over her knees, but in doing so, the bludger flew right past her and slammed into the next target who was quick to drop, but not that quick. Someone screamed as it bounced off Minerva McGonagall's temple and she dropped like a stone from her broom.
"ARRESTO MOMENTUM!"
Hermione blinked, her breath coming too fast to be normal as she held her spell, and consequently, their Transfiguration Professor - her friend - in the air. The rage she felt in her gut was beyond anything she felt for even Delores-Fucking-Umbridge but she tamped down on it for the moment. The rest of them were dead silent as she ran forward and let Minerva fall gently onto the grass.
"Minerva?" she asked, a little desperately. "Minerva? Please?"
She checked her pulse and was gratified to feel the strong thump under her fingers. She sighed, slightly mollified that Ron hadn't killed her. She looked up, to see George and Fred staring in horror.
"YOU STUPID GIT!" George yelled, turning around and swinging his fist at Ron's head and connecting solidly with Ron's nose.
"OW!"
His face splattered with blood as George flattened his nose and Fred threw his beater's bat at his knee.
"OW! Stop! It's not my fault!"
That is exactly whose fault it is," Charlie said, landing beside Hermione with a grunt. "Professor? Professor McGonagall?"
Hermione squeaked as she stirred.
"Minerva?" She stirred again and Hermione bent down to her ear and whispered. "Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can." A soft squeeze of her fingers made her beam. "She can hear us."
"She needs to go to St Mungo's."
A hard squeeze on her hand told her that was the last place Minerva wanted to go, so she nodded and spoke up.
"I'll take her. You guys go back to the party and make our excuses. I," she winced. "Might miss Christmas too. I won't leave her there."
"You can tell Mum, you stupid idiot," Ginny growled, smacking Ron on the back of the head for good measure. "Don't think I don't know you were aiming at me. God, why couldn't you have abandoned us and gone to work at the Ministry and left Percy here? I hate you sometimes Ron."
Hermione waited for their voices to fade before leaning back down.
"I have no intention of taking you to St Mungo's if you are sure you don't want to go."
"No," Minerva muttered. "Not there. Please."
"I won't," Hermione said gently, her thumb rubbing over Minerva's. "But I do need to take you somewhere. You're in no position to apparate anywhere and I'm not sure Molly wouldn't take you there no matter what I say. You've probably got a concussion," she muttered. "I just hope he didn't fracture your skull."
"Got a," she winced. "Hard head. Not quite a direct hit, I did duck."
"I've read your biography. I know what happened when you were a student. I'm not going to take any chances."
"Don't," she swallowed. "Remind me."
"Minerva, I need help from someone. Tell me what to do."
"Take me home."
"Minerva -"
"Hush," she muttered. "Come closer." Hermione bent down, close to Minerva's head and frowned when nothing happened. "Look at me."
She did so and Hermione panicked as Minerva grabbed her head and looked into her eyes.
Legillimens
A beautiful house with ivy growing all over the walls appeared in her mind. She saw the lane outside it, the hedgerow and the conifers leading down the rather Muggle-looking driveway.
She blinked as Minerva's hands dropped off her face and she fell back to the grass. Hermione shook her and almost cried when she didn't stir again.
"Oh bloody hell," she said, her hands shaking. "Ok. Ok, I can do this."
She took a few deep breaths and calmed down. She had taken to carrying around a little beaded bag in her pocket with a few emergency things in it. She'd had the idea after the whole Mad-Eye Moody incident; like his trunk, her bag was essentially bottomless. She checked it was still where she'd put it and drew her wand.
"Forgive me," she whispered, brushing some of Minerva's hair off her face. She already had a mark forming on her cheek. Hermione sat beside her and pulled her onto her lap as best she could. She took a few deep breaths, then gripped her close. "Ok, we're going to do this."
She turned on the spot and disappeared from Ottery St Catchpole and appeared between two conifers on a driveway to a house she'd never been to. She sat quietly for a moment, her hand gripping her wand in preparation for whatever might spring up in defence. When nothing happened, she glanced around, realising they were very much further North than Ottery St Catchpole on account of both the temperature that had plummeted and the ominous clouds rolling in from distant mountains. Hermione eased Minerva off her knee gently and knelt beside her, checking on her once more before levitating her into the air.
She walked them up to the door and stood dithering for a moment before she realised Minerva would be the way to enter. She took Minerva's hand, squeezing it gently and placed it on the front door like she'd seen Molly do a few times at The Burrow. The door opened and Hermione pushed it open and waited for something to happen. Nothing did, and so she stepped over the threshold. Again, nothing happened as she became a little less cautious. She spied a living room and went straight to the sofa and eased Minerva down onto it. She checked over her once more and decided that she would have to, at the very least, explore the house to determine where everything was. Leaving Minerva on the sofa she looked past all the doors and found a kitchen, a dining room and a small study. The stairs at the end of the corridor led upstairs to two bedrooms and something that Hermione could barely believe. A library that extended up to a third-floor, accessible by a spiral metal staircase in the corner. It was so big that Hermione could barely contain her amazement.
Remembering that she'd left Minerva on the sofa, unconscious, she raced back the way she'd come and back down to the ground floor.
"Minerva?"
There was a noise, but nothing she could make out the actual words, so she levitated Minerva once more and took her up the stairs. She decided that only one of the rooms looked lived in and pushed open the door gingerly. Having a crush on the woman was one thing. Putting her into her own bed was something very different. She put Minerva on the bed and stood wringing her hands for a moment before she decided that she might very well be the one thing between Minerva McGonagall having brain damage or even dying.
"Right," Hermione nodded, trying not to panic. "Right."
The first thing she needed to do was warm up the room. She could see her breath as she exhaled and that would not do at all. She lit a fire in the small wood burner in the corner and stood near it for a while, warming up her hands. She spent those few moments trying to remember the things she'd read about treating a concussion and realised that she couldn't. She took a shaky breath, closed her eyes and tried again. Every time she felt she was getting close, Minerva's falling body filled her mind and after a while, she couldn't help the tears spilling down her cheeks.
"Oh Minerva," she whispered dejectedly. "I'm so sorry."
She went over and knelt by the bed, her head resting on their joined hands. The tears wouldn't stop and it wasn't long before she was crying in near-hysterics. She got so caught up, she nearly missed it. A soft touch to her cheek that tickled enough for her to pick her head up.
"Minerva?"
"I'm alright," Minerva muttered. "Not as bad as you think, but might need Poppy."
"How do I get her here?"
"Fireplace, downstairs," she grunted, her free hand holding her head. "Lair Y Ddraig."
"Oh, that makes sense," Hermione smiled. "Do I have to do anything to the fireplace except light it?"
"No," Minerva said, her head twitching as she tried to shake it. "Oh," she screwed up her face. "That hurts."
"I'll go now," Hermione whispered.
"'Kay," Minerva muttered.
"Do you need anything?"
"Water?"
"Oh, yes, of course. I'll get you some."
"Thank you, Hermione."
"It's my fault you're like this," Hermione whispered. "It's the least I can do."
She was out of the room before Minerva could say anything in response and she trotted down the stairs and found the glasses and the water. Filling one, she placed it on the bannister and rushed into the living room where she'd seen the pot of Floo powder. Taking a handful, she lit the fire and threw in the powder, watching as it flared green.
"Lair Y Ddraig." It flared once more and a disembodied voice came through the flames. "Minerva?"
Hermione knelt down in front of the fire and plunged her face into the flames.
"Madam Pomfrey, it's Hermione Granger. There's been an accident and I," she swallowed and blinked the tears out of her eyes. "Minerva is hurt."
"Move out of the way, I'm coming through."
Hermione scrambled back and Madam Pomfrey came straight through.
"What has happened? How are you here?"
"We were at the Weasley Christmas party," Hermione said, inviting Madam Pomfrey into the hallway. "They needed one more person for the Quidditch game and Minerva decided that it might be fun."
"Fun?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "Minerva did? Our Minerva McGonagall?"
Hermione sighed.
"I should have told her not to."
"Oh, you could have done nothing to dissuade her, I shouldn't wonder."
She led Madam Pomfrey up the stairs to Minerva's room and stood next to the door as Madam Pomfrey announced her arrival. To her never-ending relief, Minerva's eyes cracked open and she managed a half-smile.
"Hello love," she chuckled.
"Quidditch, Minerva?"
"What can I say, I was inspired."
"You are a nutter."
"I've been accused before," Minerva whispered.
"Miss Granger, if you don't mind."
"She can stay," Minerva muttered. "Just let us know what we need to do. You don't need to babysit me," she smiled just barely. "I will miss seeing the babies though."
"Minerva -"
"Just get on with it Poppy."
Hermione tried not to catch the Medi-witch's eye as she sat cautiously on the bed.
"You have a concussion," she said after a time. "Not the worst, but not something to trifle with."
"Hermione thought as much," Minerva agreed.
The medi-witch's eyes locked onto Hermione's and though she had no excuse as to why Minerva McGonagall was making decisions that didn't seem to make sense, she nodded.
"I've not read as much on concussions as I have broken bones and I couldn't remember the incantation for the monitoring spell."
There was a long pause as Madam Pomfrey looked at her.
"Come here, Miss Granger. We shall do it together."
A soft squeeze from Minerva's hand gave her the courage to do as she was told and she stood next to Madam Pomfrey while she went over the words, the inflection and the wand movement, until she nodded for Hermione to try.
"There's no way to get this wrong, as long as you don't misspeak."
Hermione nodded and performed the spell.
An image shimmered before them and Hermione realised they were looking at something similar to a CT scan image, like the one she'd had after falling off the playground.
"Oh wow," she said, her interest piqued. "That's," she leaned forward. "Fascinating."
Madam Pomfrey cracked a rare smile.
"I do enjoy a student who likes learning," she said appreciatively. "You can manipulate the image simply by moving your wand in an arc."
Hermione tried it and made a noise of surprise.
"This is incredible."
"You want to concentrate on the part of Minerva's head that was hit."
Hermione was immediately aware that she was looking at an image of Minerva's brain and before she could do anything, the image zoomed in, right to the place she knew Minerva was hit with the bludger.
"Oh, that was cool. I just thought about it."
"That is," Madam Pomfrey looked sideways at her. "Very good. Now, she was hit here, you say?"
"Yes. Um, a bludger. She did duck at the last moment, I think."
"Thank Merlin for her reflexes," Madam Pomfrey muttered.
"I'm right here, you know," Minerva tutted.
"There does not seem to be any bone damage," she pointed to Minerva's skull in the image. "But it is still early for anything else to appear. If she lost consciousness, it is worth monitoring."
"Poppy, let her do it. You need to be at home."
"I can be in two places at once."
"No, you can't. Hermione is perfectly capable."
There was a long, tense silence before Madam Pomfrey sighed.
"I'm giving in because you're right, not because I'm agreeing."
Minerva smiled and held out her hand. Madam Pomfrey took it and squeezed it gently before letting go.
"This part will pulse red if there is any damage to the brain. If that happens, I want you to get me immediately. I understand the reason you're here, but if that happens, she will have to go to St Mungo's."
"Well then, we'll do what we can to try to avoid that."
"Put this on her, three times a day. It's Bruise Paste. It's possible we can avoid it turning inward if we can draw the bruise to the outside."
"Okay."
"These are pain potions. She is to have no more than two over twenty-four hours. Her tolerance for them is high, so they will not work quite as well as they should, but it is the best we can do."
"What about Muggle medicine. Would that interfere?"
"It does not, but I do not have any."
"I do," Hermione smiled.
"Then yes, to bridge the gaps, that would be of some help. Though she is right, she does have a hard head -"
"Oi!"
Poppy chuckled.
"So I don't imagine she'll need them for long."
"Okay. If anything else happens, I'll get you."
"Are you staying for Christmas?"
"I," Hermione shrugged. "Might be?"
"Yes," Minerva grumbled. She had covered her eyes with her hand but she still managed to hitch her eyebrow a little.
"Hermione, would you give me a moment with Minerva, please?"
"I -"
"It's alright Hermione. I'm sure she just wants to tell me off for being so stupid."
"You were hardly stupid."
"All the same. The library is at the end of the corridor. I'm sure you can find something to your liking there."
"Thank you," she nodded.
Hermione backed out of the room and left them to it, making her way down the corridor to the library. Despite being told she was welcome to it, she still opened the door cautiously. The light poured in from floor-to-ceiling, two-storey windows and she drew a deep breath as she took in the view out of those windows. They were in the North, as she'd imagined. There were mountains in the distance topped with snow and by the looks of the clouds, more on the way. The mountains themselves jutted out of the ground like chipped teeth and it immediately reminded her of her parents. Instead of getting a book, she sat down on the window seat and curled around her shins, resting her head on her knee. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be her parents. To say goodbye to her every September and not know anything about what was happening all year.
Not that she didn't send letters, but it was becoming harder to find safe things to include. There was less she could tell them without explanations they couldn't understand. And now they were in the middle of a war and nobody had mentioned what would happen to them. It was something that plagued her mind constantly. Turning away from melancholic thoughts, she allowed herself a moment to imagine introducing Minerva to them as her partner. That was laughable. They were the most liberal, encouraging, supportive parents, but even they would have an issue with such an age gap. By Hermione's count, there might be as many as forty years between them.
What they couldn't know, however, is that age really didn't matter to her. As witches, she was relatively sure that they had an extended lifespan. By all accounts, Albus Dumbledore was more than a hundred years old and while he was old, he was not old like the muggle nonagenarians she had met now and again. Shaking it off again, she watched the dark clouds gather over the valley.
"Miss Granger."
She stood, almost to attention, as Madam Pomfrey's voice broke her solitude.
"Apologies," Madam Pomfrey said, less sternly. "I did not mean to frighten you."
Hermione waved it off.
"I was miles away."
"I am leaving now. Minerva's care is in your hands. Please," she stared at Hermione. "Please don't hesitate to retrieve me if you need anything. She already knows to limit her magic, but a gentle reminder would not go amiss."
"We'll manage," Hermione promised.
"Then I shall be on my way. I," she sighed. "Happy Christmas, Miss Granger."
"Happy Christmas, Madam Pomfrey."
The woman didn't move, so neither did Hermione. Indeed, it looked remarkably like she was going to say something more. Hermione realised that she wasn't sure what care she would have to provide.
"Um," she said, just as Madam Pomfrey was leaving. "Do I, should I wake her often?"
"No?" Madam Pomfrey said incredulously.
"Oh, that must be a Muggle thing? Concussion requires you wake the patient every half-hour or so?"
"No," Madam Pomfrey said, softening again. "Just sit near her and make sure she is drinking enough water, applying the bruise paste and taking pain potions. Minerva has had more than one concussion in her life, she'll know what to do as long as she remains conscious. This one is not her worst by a long shot. If her speech changes or she begins to act out of character, call me."
"Ok." Hermione nodded. "Oh, does she," Hermione winced. "Should I expect anyone visiting her for Christmas?"
Madam Pomfrey stared at her with an incredibly measured look on her face.
"No," Madam Pomfrey said. "As she was expected at mine tomorrow."
"I'm sorry."
Madam Pomfrey waved her off and turned to leave.
"Take care, Miss Granger. Please be careful. Minerva's home is as warded as it could be, but that does not mean you are not in danger. As," she sighed. "By now you are fully aware. These are dangerous times."
"I know, and I will be. Thank you."
"Right. Take care," she smirked just a little. "Good luck."
"You as well," Hermione nodded her goodbyes but did not rush back to Minerva's bedroom.
The thought alone made the goosebumps on her arms prickle. In an effort to get Minerva the help that she needed, she hadn't really considered the connotations of that. She was now solely in charge of Minerva McGonagall's care, while fully and absolutely undone by the feelings that coursed through her every moment of every day. For now, though, she was a Gryffindor and she would prove that to anyone who cared.
