A/N: Good evening. Isn't emotional and mental fallout fun? :\
Huge thanks to Lib McGranger who managed to get a look at this before I posted, even though she's super busy. My eternal thanks! (obviously, if you find anything wrong with it, it's down to me and my constant need to fiddle.)
-0-
When she woke, there was a strange man packing a bag at the end of her bed. She immediately looked around for something to defend herself with and only remembered at the last moment that she was a witch.
"Don't move," she hissed.
It would have been a lot more menacing had the soreness in her throat not made the words catch. Her stomach revolted as she choked, coughed and tried to breathe at the same time.
"Easy," he said smoothly. "Breathe normally, calmly now."
He stepped to her side and procured a glass of water. His hand was gentle under her head as he helped her drink and she did so greedily until he took it away. She squeaked in disappointment.
"Go slow," he said, his lilting accent familiar in a way she couldn't place. "You dinnae wanna get sick now, do yeh."
She blinked, wincing at the pain in her eyeballs. His face came into contrast and she frowned. He had such strong cheekbones and an easy smile peeking out from a salt and pepper beard. But his -
"Eyes," she muttered, frowning in confusion. "Her eyes?"
"My name is William McGonagall," he said softly, smiling as she stared at him. "Minerva sent me."
Hermione burst into tears. Not small, quaint tears, but great, sobbing heaves that seemed to want to break her into a hundred pieces. She clung to him and he held her so carefully that it made her cry harder. She was so confused about everything else, but Minerva. Minerva had sent him. Her brother. To care for them.
Hermione realised what that meant.
"Where is she?" she managed to croak. "Is she okay?"
"She must remain at Hogwarts," he explained softly, settling her back in the bed. "The enemy is always watching. When she realised that you needed help, she tried everything to get to you, but they -" A dark look crossed his face. "Well, there is no leaving the Castle at present, which meant Poppy couldn't come either."
"It's bad," Hermione mumbled, not needing the confirmation.
"It is," he nodded. "But it will pass. Good always prevails." Hermione made a noise of ill-content and he chuckled. "It does seem simple when I put it like that, but I have found that hope is a powerful tool." Hermione winced as a pain rolled through her and he waited it out. "Okay?" She nodded. "Minerva gave me strict instructions to inform you -" he frowned. "How did she word it? Oh," he chuckled. "She said that when you made your promise, she 'rather thought it would include general well-being and harm?' And that you're even?"
Hermione managed to curtail another sob, but she blinked the tears from her eyes. She chuckled and nodded.
"It did," she sobbed again. "And we are."
"I shall tell her," he whispered.
"Is she -"
"She's ok," he said honestly. "It is not easy but they're all ok, for now."
She nodded.
"Harry? Ron? Where are we?"
"The boys are fine. Nothing that a few good meals and sleep won't cure. You are at Shell Cottage, the residence of Mr and Mrs Weasley." Hermione frowned in confusion. "Mr Bill Weasley," he chuckled. "This is their home."
"Oh," she said, understanding. "I'm glad. What," she paused as a hazy selection of memories crossed her mind. "Happened?"
"I -" he hesitated but she did not let him.
"Please Dr McGonagall."
He chuckled and sat down on the end of the bed.
"It's Will," he said kindly. "And I shall tell you a version of what happened that Mr Potter can explain fully, later, when you are rested." Hermione nodded and he brushed some lint from his trousers. "You were being held at Malfoy Manor, as far as I can tell. Your friends were not very forthcoming when I left them earlier. I don't think they understood who I was."
"Min isn't very forthcoming either, I doubt they even realise she might have family," Hermione rasped. She managed a tiny smile as he chuckled.
"I -" he sighed. "The House-Elf, Dobby?" Hermione nodded. "Did not make it. Mr Potter said that he was killed in the final moments of your escape."
Two tears rolled down Hermione's cheek as she thought of the bizarre but darling little House Elf.
"He saved us."
"Yes," he nodded. "Min couldn't think of anyone else that might still have enough access to get in?"
"He was the Malfoy's House Elf, before," she waved her hand tiredly. "It's a long story."
"Mr Potter is going to have a small ceremony for him. In a day or two when you can get up again. I have helped him care for Dobby in the meantime."
"But the boys are fine, though?" Hermione asked, needing the reassurance. "They're -"
"You are the one I am here to see."
"I -" she swallowed and breathed out shakily. "How bad is it?"
"You will heal," he nodded sadly. "I can do nothing for the scars," he muttered. "And for that, I am more sorry than you can know."
She nodded, her hand going to the wound on her wrist.
"Can I see it?" she asked. "What did she do?"
"You don't know?" His eyebrows went up in surprise, but his eyes were sad as he considered her. "I'm tempted to say no, although if I do, will you just unwrap it and look anyway?"
"Yes," she shrugged.
"Thought so," he huffed. He moved to her side and started unwrapping and it was in that moment that Hermione panicked
"Wait!" she shrieked. "Where is it?"
William paused and looked up at her.
"Where is what?"
"The ribbon! The ribbon on my wrist?" She felt like her throat was closing as she pulled at the covers trying to find it. "Where is it?" she screamed. "Where -"
"Hermione?" The voice sounded distant and she paused only for a moment before she started searching again. "Hermione, stop."
Her energy was waning and she heard him better this time. She had tears streaming down her face. Her one lifeline to Minerva, the one tentative connection that they had.
Gone.
"Calm down," he said gently. "Drink this."
He brought a potion bottle to her lips and she was all but forced to do as she was told, swallowing it down in two gulps and sighing as it immediately started taking effect.
"Now, are you calm?"
She sniffed pathetically but nodded.
"Minerva warned me about the ribbon. It is being washed, very carefully, by the lady of the house and will be returned to you as soon as it is clean. Minerva has been informed you are without it currently. Please don't worry." She sighed and then started crying quietly. Minerva, as usual, had thought of everything.
"Sorry."
"It's quite alright," he whispered, moving to unwrap the rest of the bandage. "Before I do this, I will tell you that you have a cut on your neck as well. Thankfully, it missed the major artery you have there." Hermione's hand went to her neck and she felt along the bandage. "The wound is superficial, but might leave a faint scar." She nodded as his face went pale. "This, however, will certainly scar. It is not magical, only physical, and quite deep, so you would be able to cover it if you wished. But I -"
"Just show me," Hermione whispered, knowing it must be bad if Minerva's brother was hesitating so much.
He nodded and unwrapped the final loop.
"This makes you no less than what you are, Hermione Granger," he warned gently.
She frowned and watched as he carefully pulled off the dressing.
She gaped. That whine that seemed to make an appearance in her head whenever something happened was back. Her breath caught and she frowned as it became clearer and then, everything stopped and her brain caught up with her eyes.
"Is that it?" she said finally.
William looked at her carefully.
"What do you mean?"
"Is that all she wrote?"
"I -" he frowned. "Yes?"
"And it's not cursed?"
"No?"
"Oh," Hermione laughed. "She's an idiot."
"She -"
She'd thrown William McGonagall for six, it seemed, as he stared at her. She took pity on him.
"I have heard this many times in my life," she explained. "But I was not brought up in the Wizarding World. I have found that Mudblood is an insult for people who find blood purity something to sneer about. I do not share those sentiments. I am a mudblood. I have Muggle parents and come from a Muggle home. Outside of school, I lived a Muggle life. But I do not find it insulting. In fact, in times like these, I find that if a person is willing to call me that, they might very well be the next person I decide to curse."
William McGonagall sat back on the bed and stared for a long while before he chuckled. He stopped and frowned, shaking his head and then laughed again. A deep, jovial laugh that she could imagine him doing around a dinner table with Madam Pomfrey, their daughter and granddaughter, and Minerva.
"Oh lass, you're just like her," he mused, scratching his beard. "Yes. An excellent take on it. But," he sobered. "Now that you're awake, I must go. I am due St Mungo's and they cannot be without me for long. Not least because someone will notice."
"Wait," Hermione said, thoroughly confused. "I thought," she shook her head. "I mean, aren't you going to -"
"I had strict instructions to force you to go back, yes," he chuckled, correctly understanding her stammering. "But Mr Potter read me the Riot Act as soon as I told him of her plan."
"We can't go back," she whispered sadly. "Even if we wanted to, we can't."
"I understand, and I'm sure she does too. Even though none of us likes it."
"Tell her that I'm sorry?"
"I will," he said quietly. "I've never seen her like this," he said, almost conversationally. "Poppy suggested I be the one to come and help. I see now, why that is." Hermione looked at him, bemused. He cracked a smile and patted her foot as he picked up his bag. "You are a good match."
Hermione stared at him as she understood his meaning, but he smiled and crouched beside the bed.
"Do not leave here before seven days are up. You all need to rest but you, most of all, will need that time to heal. I've left as many potions as I could. Enough for you, this week, and a few spares for your stocks. Take the ones that you need to. Heal. Then you can continue on this quest Mr Potter seems to think is so important."
"It is important," she muttered. "More important than anything."
"I'll tell her," he muttered. He reached forward and she was ashamed to say that she flinched as his big hand neared her face. "I'm sorry," he said genuinely.
"It's ok," she shivered, reaching out and taking his hand in hers instead. "Me too."
"Rest."
He squeezed her hand one more time and then left, closing the door quietly behind him.
As soon as it latched, Hermione burst into tears once more and fell asleep again, sobbing into her pillow.
-0-
And so, the hours passed.
She did as she was told. She kept to her bed, mostly, and tried her best to sleep when the mood took her. Ron helped her down the stairs when Harry came to her to tell her that he had dug Dobby a grave, overlooking the ocean outside.
It shocked her when Fleur had seen her and had raced around the dining table. It had shocked her more when Fleur pulled her into her arms, gently but carefully and muttered how thankful she was that she was alright. Hermione had tensed in anticipation, but she was thankful that she hadn't flinched as she'd done with Minerva's brother. She was surely getting a little better with each moment.
"I 'as something for 'ou," Fleur whispered.
She waved Ron off and drew Hermione over to the sink, where her beautiful red ribbon was drying on the wrack. Had her eyes not been so sore she would have simply burst into tears for the umpteenth time, but she did not. She watched as Fleur kept talking, but Hermione couldn't hear a word she was saying. The whine in her ears was back and it only got louder as Fleur reached out and picked it up gently and wrapped it around Hermione's wrist.
As she tied it securely and cupped Hermione's cheek, a great rush of noise returned and she heard Fleur whisper before she let go.
"Entre deux cœurs qui s'aiment, nul besoin de paroles." Hermione frowned, her brain already working, albeit slowly, on translating. Fleur seemed to realise and squeezed her hand, gently. "Two 'earts in love, need no words," she said softly. "Like my Bill, and me."
Hermione let out a long breath and looked up at this woman who suddenly seemed so much older and wiser than her. She had discounted Fleur, before the wedding. She had been ditzy in the Triwizard Tournament and Ginny had taken great delight in decrying her unsuitability for Bill, but at this moment, Hermione learned all she needed to know about her.
"Merci beaucoup," she whispered.
"Je t'en prie, mon cher," Fleur smiled sadly. "Now go, ey? They are waiting."
Hermione rearranged the placement of the ribbon to make sure it was resting on her skin, just below the bandage and felt a great wave of something wash over her.
Minerva was happy.
She tried to call out, in her head, but it was silent and it filled her with sadness to realise that whatever had happened at Malfoy Manor had been an isolated incident. There would be time enough, after the war, to test all the theories she had. For now, though, Hermione kissed the ribbon quickly and joined Ron outside.
The knowledge that Minerva was alright, carried her through Dobby's sad little funeral. It did not mean she did not weep, though. They stood, Ron and her, on the dunes watching Harry place Dobby gently into the ground. Her tears mingled with the spray from the ocean but she couldn't bring herself to wipe them. Ron's arms wrapped around her and she leaned tiredly into him as she ran out of what little strength she had left.
"Let's go inside," Harry muttered over the wind as he joined them. "We'll tell you what we know. And then," he said grimly. "We need a new plan."
They talked all afternoon, only pausing when Bill came to Hermione's room to fetch them for dinner. It was a muted affair but Hermione felt much better once she'd had some food. They convened, afterwards, in Hermione's room so she could lay down. They spent some time talking to Luna and warned her about her father. She promised to be careful as she travelled back home and the boys waved her off as she left.
Once they returned, however, Hermione felt the mood change. Griphook, the Gringotts goblin that had been rescued with them, had been convalescing in his own room. After she'd pieced together what she'd heard Bellatrix say about her vault, they determined that Griphook was vital to making a new plan. So, despite her exhaustion, Hermione got up and went with the boys to negotiate the release of information they needed.
It took far longer than she'd expected but by the time her head dropped to the pillow, she could just about make-believe that Malfoy Manor was nothing more than a bad dream. It helped that as she closed her eyes, she felt another wave of warmth wash over her. She fell asleep, dreaming of falling asleep elsewhere; in Minerva's arms.
