A/N: Just in case you have all forgotten, I am not a doctor. I do however know there are specific places on the body where you can get seriously hurt without causing serious damage. I am not entirely sure this is one of them, so just roll with it ;)
Praise Lib McGranger for her eyes and her common sense. Em would have you all floating around Merlin-knows-where in the pursuit of floatiness.
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Hermione pulled the things she needed from the cupboards that the Room of Requirement had provided. Bandages, gauze and some Bruise Paste for Minerva's ribs. She found a cupboard of pain potions and took a few for pain and a few others she recognised. She looked down at the things, in a little metal tray like in the movies and took a deep breath. This was not how she'd imagined seeing Minerva's body for the first time and she wasn't sure it was how she wanted to see it for the first time. But needs must and Minerva was hurting. That took precedence over everything.
"Are you ready?" Hermione asked before she turned.
"I am," Minerva said, sounding small.
"Ok," she nodded. "Let's do this."
She carried the tray onto a little rolling table that appeared by her side and wheeled it over to Minerva's side. She smiled in what she hopes was a supportive way and set everything out on the tray when she paused.
"Oh, hang on. Need to wash my hands."
She went back, and did so, scrubbing extra carefully to make sure that nothing could go wrong.
She stepped in front of Minerva and sat on the stool that had appeared as well. She sat looking at her clean hands and wished she could squeeze Minerva's hand before she started.
"Okay?" Minerva asked.
"Yep," Hermione nodded. "Just," she sighed. "Don't want to make things worse."
"You won't," Minerva smiled, looking a little pink, but less uncomfortable. "I trust you."
"If I can't do it, I'll go and find Madam Pomfrey, wherever she is, deal?"
"Yes."
Hermione nodded and uncorked a pain potion, pausing before she handed it over.
"Have you had one yet?"
"No," Minerva winced. "Remind me to restock."
Hermione nodded and handed it over, watching as she took it, before settling herself and holding out her hand.
"Accio Dittany."
A bottle of Essence of Dittany floated to her outstretched hand and she grinned proudly.
"You'll be doing wandless, silent casting before long," Minerva noted. "It won't be long until you realise just how powerful you are, Hermione Granger."
"Well," Hermione blushed. "Not like you."
"Oh," Minerva chuckled. "I think, perhaps, you will surprise yourself."
Hermione agreed to disagree and sat forward.
"How do you want to do this?" she asked, looking up at Minerva. "I only need to see that part of you, I guess. Can you move the blanket? Get comfortable?"
"I will," Minerva said. She blushed again and Hermione did too. Instead of adding to the awkwardness, Hermione studied the ceiling while the rustle of fabric filled the space between them. "I am ready," Minerva muttered as it went quiet again.
Hermione nodded and grabbed her Essence of Dittany.
"Oh Minerva!" she gasped. The position they were in was easy to disregard once she saw the wound properly. "This is -"
"I'm sure it's not the worst I've received," Minerva muttered as she looked over her shoulder. "And fine," she said after a moment, though she could not meet Hermione's eyes. "Quite a bit worse than I perhaps let on. So far as I could tell. It is hard to twist with broken ribs."
"Oh god," Hermione said, pressing her lips together. "I'm pretty sure that's your bone."
"That explains the pain," Minerva winced.
"Okay. Okay," Hermione said, more deep breaths, all thoughts of Minerva's long, bare legs taken over by the horror. "Okay."
"Breathe," Minerva said gently. "It is alright."
"You're not looking at this."
"I'm feeling it," Minerva smirked. "Relax."
"You do realise that six inches higher or three inches the other way and I," she choked. "We might have lost you!"
"I do," Minerva said. She reached out slowly and touched Hermione's knee, before squeezing it gently. "I do, Hermione."
Her name on Minerva's lips galvanised her resolve and she nodded sharply. She leant forward and peered closer.
"I'm going to need more light," she muttered to herself. Minerva shook her wand like a two-bit Muggle magician and it lit up with a stream of light. "Show off," she mused. Minerva chuckled but Hermione was now solely focussed on what was before her. Thankfully it was a clean cut and there didn't seem to be too much internal damage that she could see. Minerva had cast a stasis spell on it and in doing so had managed to stop it from bleeding too much.
"Normal stasis?" she asked efficiently.
"Yes," Minerva nodded.
"Can you remove it?"
"I can."
"Do so and then I'll see how the bleeding is. I'm not sure if a stasis just pauses the healing or whether it allows healing below it. Guess I'm about to find out."
Minerva smiled and whispered a Finite on her thigh. The wound shimmered beneath the magic and cleared. It didn't look any better than Hermione imagined it would. She could see the striations of the muscles and the nerves. She had a sudden thought that Minerva may not feel much afterwards.
"Okay," she whispered. "I don't know if this will hurt," she shivered. "I know your tolerance to pain potions is high. You might have permanent nerve damage, but please try not to move," she cautioned. She glanced up at Minerva who shrugged.
"I keep telling you I've had worse," she muttered.
"I cannot even imagine," Hermione muttered. "Hold still. Scream if you need to but don't move."
"I shall not be screaming, Hermione Granger," Minerva chuckled.
Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing the effects of the pain potion must have kicked in if Minerva was being so blasé about it. Instead of saying so, she reached out. She watched her hand like it didn't belong to her as she touched Minerva's thigh and pushed one side of the wound closer to the other.
"Fuck," Minerva hissed as the two sides touched and Hermione dribbled some Essence of Dittany into the wound.
True to her word, Minerva stayed perfectly still as the wound hissed and spat. Hermione tried to remain calm and waited for the tissue to knit together. She prayed she had enough Essence of Dittany to do the whole wound as she realised just how long it would take. She glanced up at Minerva and winced at how pale she'd gone. She considered saying something supportive but decided the kindest thing would be to just get on with it and finish it. She did so, her eyes filling with tears as Minerva's muttered curses got weaker and her voice broke.
"Stop," she moaned. "Oh please stop."
"One more Min, just a little more, then it will be enough to hold it."
The whimper she heard in response broke her heart. She wished, absently, for some butterfly stitches - like the one the School Nurse had put on her hand the time she'd fallen on the playground. True to form, the Room of Requirement was a steadfast aide to her mission and a strip appeared on the tray.
"Oh," she nodded in thanks. "Engorgio."
It grew to a more reasonable size for such a wound and she managed to figure out how to use it quickly. She taped the two sides down and let go gently. Hermione cleaned her hands as best as she could and took Minerva's hand in hers. She hadn't expected the strong squeeze on her fingers and squeaked. Minerva let go immediately.
"Breathe," Hermione counselled gently. She took Minerva's hand back. "It's okay. I've stopped for now. Breathe, Minerva." There were tears running down her face and sweat on her temples and top lip. Hermione's heart broke. "I'm sorry." It seemed like Minerva couldn't speak but she shook her head and squeezed Hermione's hand, gentler this time. After a bit of contortion, Hermione managed to reach one of the gauze pads and used it to mop Minerva's face. "It's alright."
Minerva closed her eyes and Hermione ran her hand through Minerva's hair over and over.
"How bad?" Minerva eventually managed to growl.
"It was bad. It's less bad now."
"Hermione," she hissed.
"We're just over halfway." Minerva sagged. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," she sighed. "Can you finish it?"
"I can. I don't want to."
"Not as much as I don't want you to," Minerva huffed. She rolled her eyes and stopped talking.
Hermione just watched.
Under her gaze, Minerva seemed to build herself back up. One moment, she was Minerva: the quiet, intelligent woman that laughed and joked and articulated her feelings and in the next, she was Professor Minerva McGonagall: the stalwart battle-axe of Hogwarts. Hermione was well acquainted with the Professor, but there was a hardness in her eyes that Hermione had never seen before. She knew of Minerva's prowess in battle, though had never seen it and deduced that this was Minerva from The Order. This woman was the one that fought tooth and nail for freedom and equality and good. Minerva's hand let go of Hermione's, but she said nothing. It was enough of a sign for Hermione to continue and so she did. Faster and more efficiently. She saw a dropper appear on the tray and knew it would help direct the Dittany better than she'd been doing and so used it to fill in the gaps she'd missed, concentrating solely on her task and not on Minerva's face.
What seemed like an hour went by when she sat up with a quiet groan. It was not perfect. It was not even fully closed, but it would do. She had concentrated on sealing it from the bottom, reckoning by logic alone that should there be any pockets of air below sealed skin, an infection could develop. To that end, she left some of the skin open and set to work dressing it. She gently pressed some gauze on top and set about bandaging it. Thoughts of Minerva's anatomy had gone out of the window as she wound the bandage around Minerva's thigh until she had run out. She stuck it down with a sticking charm and stepped back, staring at her hands.
They still seemed to belong to someone else. She could barely feel a thing, but they were shaking uncontrollably. She blinked and took a deep breath. And then blinked again. Gradually, she managed to claw back her resolve until she felt near to normal again. Finally, she looked up to see Minerva, white-knuckled and clutching a pillow to her chest. As Hermione took a step closer, she saw blood on her lip, where she'd bitten it.
"Oh, Min," she breathed.
Hermione stepped forward and extended the couch without even thinking. She gently knelt behind Minerva and turned her a little, soothing the tense features with soft fingers.
"It's okay," she whispered. She slid her arm underneath Minerva's neck and rubbed her other thumb along those fine cheekbones. After a time, she witnessed the tightness around Minerva's eyes fade. "It's done for now," she promised. "I won't touch it again. It's okay."
Minerva opened her eyes groggily. She looked up and their eyes met and Hermione felt like every one of her nerve endings had fired all at once. Forgetting propriety, and pretending she didn't feel like she felt, she bent down further and wrapped her arms around Minerva properly. For a brief moment, she wondered if she had got it wrong, but then Minerva's hands gripped her forearms where they crossed over her chest and Minerva McGonagall burst into tears.
Had someone asked her beforehand what she expected to come out of this experience, she would not have picked anything close to this outcome. But that didn't matter. She pulled Minerva as close to her as she could and held her as tightly as she dared. Hermione's knee went between the cushions, onto something really hard and painful. The angle was wrong, Hermione's lower back was crying out, but she held on because Minerva held on. She could hear the immense pain in Minerva's soul. So Hermione just held on tighter, taking care to put as little pressure as possible on Minerva's ribs but making sure she could feel that she was not alone. She tried to soothe the woman, but it seemed as though it was one thing too many and Minerva just cried and cried until she could cry no more.
And there they stayed. Minerva's breath came in fits and starts and Hermione held her tightly, contorted uncomfortably on the sofa. Despite it all, she did not want to be anywhere else in the world.
The room was so silent, Hermione could hear the odd student walk past the wall to the Castle. The blanket, which covered Minerva's front and most of her middle, left her back mostly exposed. Her skin was littered with scars that whispered of a life hard-lived and freckles that made Hermione smile sadly. Shimmering black bra straps framed four circular scars, two either side of her spine, that made Hermione's heart ache. As she rubbed her chin on Minerva's shoulders to distract herself, she sighed against her neck and whispered that it would be alright. The sudden noise seemed to awaken something in Minerva and just as Hermione was about to speak again, Minerva stiffened and let go. The blanket, which had fallen down to her middle was now clutched right to her chin.
"Miss Granger, I -"
"What?" Hermione asked. She tried to catch Minerva's eye, but she was staring resolutely at the back of the sofa and not at Hermione. "Minerva -"
"I beg your pardon, I don't know what -"
"Really?" Hermione asked testily. She stood and put her hands on her hips while she waited. Minerva had the decency to stop and turn a little to look at her. She bit her lip, then winced as she found the wound from earlier. "Minerva, come on. Don't -"
"I did not mean to do that to you."
"Do what to me?" Hermione chuckled. "Break down? Seek comfort? I've just performed surgery on you. While you were awake. With nothing but an average potion to numb the pain!"
"I," Minerva sagged. "Fine, if you put it like that, I see your point."
"Well, I broke down on you, only recently in fact, over a lot, lot less. And we shall say nothing of the Boggart incident in Third Year. We're even." She had meant for it to be funny, and Minerva found it to be so as well. She snorted and covered her mouth as her face flushed. "It's alright," Hermione smiled. "It was ridiculous, in hindsight."
"Charming," Minerva soothed as she rolled carefully into her back with a soft groan. "But yes," she laughed. "A little ridiculous."
"There's a play on words there that we both missed so, we'll move on."
Minerva sighed and nodded. The blanket just covered her chest but above it, Hermione could see the four corresponding circles that shone in the light of the room. She blinked and pretended she had not been staring as Minerva spoke again.
"It does feel better," she said gruffly after a time. "Thank you. I know that wasn't easy."
"To say that it is an impressive wound, in the understatement of the century," Hermione winced. "You will probably have a wicked scar and I don't know enough about Essence of Dittany to know whether it simply knits flesh back together or whether it 'heals' so," she frowned. "I'm quite sure there're a lot of nerves there."
"I'll be able to sit on the floor for much longer if my bum doesn't go numb."
There was a prolonged silence before Hermione burst out laughing.
"Minerva!"
She smirked and closed her eyes with a deep sigh. Hermione watched her for a beat before she sat back down beside her.
"Do you want me to look at your ribs?"
"What is the time?" Minerva asked, rubbing her wrist where the usual small silver watch was absent.
"I have no clue, actually," Hermione said, wondering herself. "Did you forget your watch?"
"No," Minerva whispered sadly. "I lost it, in the skirmish."
"Oh," Hermione said again. "Are you -"
"It was my grandmother's."
Hermione looked helplessly at Minerva. She fought for words of comfort or support but knew there was nothing she could say to help.
"Where were you?"
"Why," Minerva grumbled. "It won't be there. There's no point."
"There's always hope, Minerva," Hermione whispered as she reached forward and took her hand. "Always."
"Goodrich Castle," she huffed. "Just outside the Forest of Dean."
"I've camped near there. I'll remember," Hermione nodded. "Just in case."
Minerva shook her head morosely and Hermione remembered she needed to find the time, regardless of Minerva's state of mind. She did not own a watch, nor did she think to bring anything with her for that purpose. They rarely needed to know the time when everyone around them seemed to.
At that moment, her pocket grew hot and she reached into it, pulling out her Dumbledore's Army coin. She and Harry had agreed to use them in times of emergency, beyond Dumbledore's Army. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the time displayed.
"Blimey, I think it's nearly lights out!"
"What?" Minerva asked, sitting up with a groan. "Oh."
"Careful," she said, springing to Minerva's aide. "Careful."
"I need to go."
"I know, but let me help. I don't know whether you should even be standing, so I'll help, alright?"
"I -"
She'd never seen Minerva so flustered and only belatedly realised what the matter was. In order to help Minerva back into her robes, Minerva would have to drop the blanket and as already evident, she was not wearing much at all.
"My eyes will be right here," she said, looking into Minerva's. "The whole time. I just want to make sure you don't fall."
"You're making me sound ancient again," Minerva quipped, though she wore a tight smile. "Very well. Merlin knows I will need it."
"Where are your robes?"
"On the table there."
"I'll get them and come back here and help you up. Alright?"
Minerva nodded and Hermione did what she set out to do, laying the robes by their seats while she stood.
"I'm going to look over there," Hermione nodded to the back of the room. "And help you up. Alright?"
"Fine," Minerva huffed.
She held out her hands and felt Minerva's grip her tightly. Setting her feet, she held fast and pulled as Minerva got up, steadying her when she winced and leaned onto her good leg.
"Steady," Hermione said quietly. "I've got you."
"That was habit," Minerva winced, testing the injured leg. "It hurts far less than it did."
"Good," Hermione smiled. "Your ribs?"
"I might borrow that bruise paste. I should be able to put it on myself, I think."
"Alright," Hermione nodded, trying not to be disappointed. "It would not be a terrible idea to use this opportunity," she said, waving to the table full of potions. "It's clearly all real, take as much as you need to stock up. I will do the same. Can you dress?"
"I have been dressing myself for a very long time, Hermione," Minerva chuckled, looking through the little tray with the bottles of Pain Potion that they had not used. "I will be fine."
"Alright." Hermione nodded and turned around. "I'll wait here, just in case."
Once again, the rustle of fabric filled the space. She heard a few disgruntled noises and then a huff.
"I'm stuck."
Hermione bit her lip to stop from giggling.
"In what way?"
"I cannot put my robes on because of my blasted ribs, it hurts too much to raise my arm."
"And they're stuck -"
"At my elbows."
"Right," Hermione nodded. "Deep breath. I'm just going to help."
Taking her own advice, she spun around, and for a split second, revelled in the vista that was Minerva McGonagall. She had known the woman was slender, but the soft outline of muscle below alabaster skin, now marred with dark, black bruising was something to behold. Her eyes widened at just how much bruising there was before she shook herself and moved to help her.
"See enough?" Minerva huffed.
Hermione blushed.
"If you had been honest about your bruising, I perhaps would not have had to stare."
"Touche," Minerva grumbled.
Hermione pulled on her robes and straightened out the collar as Minerva ran her hand in front of them, doing the buttons magically.
"There," Hermione smiled. "As good as," she paused. "Well. Not new. But you're doing alright."
"Cheeky witch," Minerva shook her head. They stood, barely inches apart as Hermione got trapped in Minerva's gaze. "You are one of the very best friends a person can have, Hermione Granger," Minerva whispered, her good hand cupping Hermione's cheek. "I shall not forget this."
"Thank you. And, in the interest of being honest, I'd k -" she paused. "Seriously maim, to look like you," she smirked even as she leaned into Minerva's palm a little. Minerva snorted and shook her head. "But I'll make sure to call you on that favour, one day."
"Cheeky." Minerva rolled her eyes, but a very pretty blush appeared on her cheeks.
Hermione broke away and divided up the pain potions and the pastes and the various other things into two piles. She placed hers in her robe pocket and placed the rest in the tray for Minerva. Minerva looked it over and nodded before she banished it to her room.
"Come, I shall escort you back."
"No way," Hermione argued. "I'll escort you back. You need to put some bruise paste on," she stepped back and waved her hand in front of Minerva's entire torso. "All of that. And get some rest. And you had better believe that if I have to go to Albus Dumbledore myself, to tell him that you need time to recover, I will."
"Bloody hell," Minerva groaned. "Fine," she said, with a barely concealed smirk. "As much as I would love to see that, I shall follow your orders." Hermione preened a little, until Minerva poked her side, making her laugh. "Come along, trouble," Minerva said. "Help an old woman home."
"You're not old," Hermione rolled her eyes. "With a body like that?" she quipped again. Minerva groaned. "You're wounded, Minerva. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent."
Minerva's laughter rang through the now empty corridor as they peered both ways and exited the room.
When Hermione slid into bed that night, she couldn't help the smile that would not leave her face. Thoughts of Minerva's pristine skin and the feel of her palm on her cheek chased away any nightmares that might have arisen from their medical emergency and she slept peacefully for the rest of the night.
