A.N.1: The story is set in the summer between Hermione's 4th and 5th year at Hogwarts.
A.N.2: I dedicate this story to the wonderful hermin22. May she be inspired to write many more of her beautiful stories.
Scars
With a faint 'plop', the slender figure that was Minerva McGonagall apparated on the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. She quietly opened the door, careful not to wake up the portrait of Mrs. Black and consequently, every other occupant of the house. She bit her lip to suppress a groan. Now that the adrenaline wore off, every fibre of her body started to ache. Awkwardly, she climbed the staircase to the first floor. She needed a drink.
The fire in the library was still burning. Her body welcomed the warmth, after having been outside in the cold for the better part of the night. Minerva made her way over to the cabinet where Sirius used to keep a variation of spirits.
"Professor?"
The voice behind her made her flinch in surprise. Apparently, the pain caused her animagus traits to fail her. She hadn't noticed that the room was still occupied. Minerva stiffly turned around and her features relaxed when she saw Hermione Granger peep over the backrest of the armchair that she was sitting in. The surprise at seeing her stern teacher at this time was written all over her face.
"Miss Granger," she acknowledged her student's presence and turned back to the cabinet. She opened the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky and was about to fill a glass with the amber liquid when a wave of pain washed over her. She groaned and the bottle trembled in her hands.
"There, let me."
She had not noticed the Granger girl approaching. Now, Minerva felt her presence beside her. Pain clouded her thoughts. She felt that the bottle was taken from her hands and a few moments later, she was handed a glass.
She took a deep breath, willing the pain to fade, and downed the glass. The whisky was burning its way down her throat and she could feel her spirits lifting, even though the pain was still there.
"Are you okay?"
Granger sounded worried.
"I'm alright, Miss Granger. Been out on a mission." She suppressed another groan. "Why are you still up? It must be past midnight."
"It is. I was… researching."
Minerva nodded, closing her eyes momentarily.
"Well, Miss Granger, if you'll excuse me. I shall retire, it was a long day."
She turned to leave, but all of a sudden, her leg gave way. The slender woman swayed dangerously, and reaching out for support she suddenly found she was clinging to the arm of her student. The pain that shot up from her leg and spread all over her body was so intense that it was impossible to keep a clear head. A cry of pain erupted from her lips.
"Professor!"
Hermione struggled to keep the older woman upright. Slender fingers held to her arm in a death grip. Minerva's head had fallen forward onto Hermione's shoulder. The young woman was doubtful if Minerva even realized. Carefully, she managed to disentangle one arm from her professor's hands and placed it on the older woman's shoulder, supporting her both physically and, she hoped, emotionally.
Minerva heard a faint whimper and it took her a moment to realize that it was her own voice that produced the sound. She swallowed and tried to get her ragged breathing under control. Slowly, she straightened up, now realizing that she was still leaning onto her protégé. The young woman was rubbing her shoulder sympathetically.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, for my inept comportment," she said awkwardly.
"You're hurt," her student plainly stated.
"Just a tad uncomfortable," Minerva tried to reassure her. It didn't work, of course. Not even Minerva McGonagall could fool one Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age.
"May I help you to your room, then?" the young woman asked and Minerva was astonished at the calm and un-patronizing way with which Hermione handled the situation. The two women left the library and slowly and, in Minerva's case painfully, made their way up the staircase to the second floor. Minerva tried to lean on Hermione as little as possible, but with every step, the pain grew and they had to pause every few meters to allow Minerva to get her laboured breathing under control. Hermione kept quiet and Minerva was grateful for that.
Finally, they had reached the room that Minerva occupied whenever she stayed at the Order's headquarters overnight. Unceremoniously, Hermione opened the door and switched on the lights. She watched as Minerva inelegantly flopped down on the bed.
"Do you need me to call for Madam Pomfrey?"
"I'll be fine, Hermione," Minerva answered with closed eyes. There was no way she'd be able to bear the Matron fussing about her tonight. All she wanted was to sleep. She hadn't even bothered to remove her outer robes, let alone her boots.
After a couple of moments she opened her eyes again – she still felt the presence of her student in the room. She eyed the young witch questioningly.
"If you'd allow me – perhaps I can try to heal…make you a tad more comfortable," Hermione bit her lip and cast her look down to the carpet.
"You? I didn't know you were acquainted with healing charms?"
"Well, I – I took a summer school class. Elementary and Advanced Healing."
"How…." Minerva's eyes widened, pain forgotten for a second. Suddenly, it began to dawn on her. "St. Mungo's advert on the bulletin board in the common room… But Hermione, that was for seventh year students!"
Hermione had the grace to blush.
"And how did you…"
Hermione's hand involuntarily flew up to her chest and Minerva knew the time turner rested on her bosom. She sighed in defeat.
"Fine, then. Have a look."
Now it was Hermione's turn to open her eyes wide. She hadn't thought it would be that easy to convince her teacher. She shook her head briefly and then set about the task in front of her.
"Let's get you out of these robes first, shall we?"
"Alright, Doctor Granger."
Minerva managed to sit up and Hermione unfastened the heavy outer robes her professor was wearing and shrugged them off her shoulders. Instead of her usual teaching robes, Minerva was dressed in muggle style, skinny jeans and a black turtleneck, sweater something Hermione had never seen on her before. Also, her hair was styled differently tonight – Hermione had noticed it before, of course, but not given it much thought. Professor McGonagall's trademark bun was gone, it had been replaced by a lose braid. However, there was not much opportunity for Hermione to acknowledge how the unusual outfit fitted her professor, considering the fact that the better half of her jeans was drenched in blood. Hermione couldn't understand how Minerva managed to crack a joke in her current state, as she just had.
The young witch drew her wand.
"I'll have to cut your pants open. There is no other way I'll get you out of them."
Minerva waved her hand and closed her eyes.
"Go ahead."
"Diffindo," Hermione mumbled and carefully drew her wand along the length of Minerva's pant leg.
"Merlin, Minerva!"
Hermione was so shocked at what she saw that she didn't even realize that her professor's first name had slipped from her lips. Minerva did, but she was not in a state to comment. Awkwardly, she popped herself up on her elbows to see for herself what Hermione was so worried about, and immediately wished she hadn't. The lower part of her left leg was a bloody mass. An ugly cut had sliced open her leg from the ankle to her knee, which much of the bone lying bare. Blood was seeping into the white bedsheets.
"Bloody hell," she gritted between clenched teeth.
"Indeed," Hermione stated soberly. She had already begun magically removing Minerva's boot and stocking, trying to cause as little additional harm as possible.
"How did this happen?"
"Must have been one of my own spells bouncing back. I remember one of my Defodios was blocked and fired back – it wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't just transformed into my animagus and naturally the surface the spell hit was larger than it would have been in my human form."
Hermione looked up at her.
"I can try to heal it, but I cannot promise that my skills are advanced enough. If I run into the slightest problem I will call for Madam Pomfrey. You can give me detention for the rest of my life, but I swear I will."
"Fine," Minerva whispered. She was close to fainting from the pain.
"How on earth did you manage to stand on that leg, let alone walk?" Hermione asked. The question was rhetorical, but secretly, Minerva was wondering the same.
"I will need to fetch a few things from my room," the young witch said, "Don't move until I am back."
"Very funny, Miss Granger."
Minerva leant back into the pillows and closed her eyes. She took deep breaths, working herself into a mental state that would allow her to blend out the pain. She missed the moment Hermione returned.
"Here, drink this."
Minerva's eyes shot open. Hermione handed her a flask. The Transfiguration professor immediately recognized it to be a very strong pain relief potion. She uncorked the bottle and downed it without further ado.
"The alcohol you had earlier might lessen the effects of the potion," Hermione said worriedly. "With all due respect, that wasn't very clever. Anyway, I'll try to be as careful as possible."
Minerva nodded. Hermione resumed her place at the foot of the work and set about healing her teacher's leg. Deep lines of concentration furrowed her forehead as she carefully muttered spell after spell. Gradually, she worked through layers of tissue and muscle. It took some time until she sighed in relief and with one last whispered Episkey mended the epidermis of Minerva's shin.
Minerva was drifting in and out of a light slumber. The potion had finally kicked in and the soft murmuring of Hermione's incantation calmed her. Hermione observed the frail body of her professor. The woman looked utterly tired and worn out and she was too slim. Yet, for the first time this night her features relaxed and seemed almost peaceful. Hermione suddenly remembered that she hadn't seen her professor relaxed for a very long time. No wonder. With the war going on and a school to run on behalf of Dumbledore, as well as her work for the Order, she probably hadn't had a moment to herself in months.
"Miss Granger, you're staring."
Hermione smiled tenderly.
"Sorry, Professor. I'm done. Can you try to wiggle your toes?"
Minerva did. Her leg felt numb, but she could see her toes moving.
"Good. Now try to move your ankle?"
The movement was far from painless, but she could move her joint.
"And your knee?"
It took a great effort of Minerva, but after two failed attempts, she managed to lift her leg and bend her knee.
Hermione let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.
"The soreness should abate in a couple of days," she said. "And I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would have managed to heal the wound without leaving a scar."
She ran the tip of her finger along the newly formed, still bright red scar that now adorned Minerva's leg. She hung her head, realizing that the evidence of her failure would be visible on Minerva's body forever.
"Hermione," Minerva gently called her. Gosh, the girl reminded her so much of herself. When Hermione looked up with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, Minerva reached out her hand.
"Come here, will you?"
Hermione scooted over, until she was sitting by Minerva's side on the edge of the bed.
"You did a great job here. I cannot thank you enough for helping me tonight."
"But…"
"No, Hermione," Minerva struggled to sit upright. Hermione was quick to notice and helped her teacher by re-arranging the pillow. "You did something that no one else your age could have achieved. And should there remain a scar, I shall wear it with pride because it reminds me of you."
Hermione's gaze fell to the hands in her lap.
"Look at me, Hermione," Minerva said seriously.
Hermione lifted her gaze. Large hazel eyes, clouded with sorrow, stared at Minerva.
"I am proud of you," the older woman said, her voice laced with emotion.
Minerva had wanted to say more, but she didn't trust her voice with any more words. She took Hermione's hand into her own and squeezed them, hoping that the gesture would convey what she had failed to voice. The girl was so young. Far too young to be involved in a war, and no doubt she would be, being one of the closest friends of Harry Potter.
Hermione blinked the tears away that threatened to fall from her lashes. She didn't want to cry in front of her professor.
"Thank you," she whispered, returning the squeeze of Minerva's hands. Then she took a deep breath. "Would you like to have some tea, Professor?"
"It's Minerva, dear. You called me by my first name before, so why return to old habits? And yes, a cup of tea would be lovely."
Minerva was glad that Hermione had managed to ease the emotional tension that had settled between them. Minerva McGonagall was not a person to wear her heart on her tongue and she could only explain the present outbreak with the emotional turmoil she was in after tonight's events. Hermione nodded curtly, got up and left the room. Minerva watched her leaving and suddenly realized that she didn't mind Hermione witnessing her in her current state of weakness. Was it the resemblance of their characters? Minerva felt at ease in Hermione's presence – safe enough to let her guards down and be Minerva rather than Professor McGonagall. If she was going to let Hermione into the fortress she had built around herself, it was only fair to suggest they'd be on first-name terms.
Minerva stiffly sat up. With a smile she acknowledged that Hermione had already used a cleaning charm on the bedsheets and what remained of her clothes. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and carefully put some weight on the newly healed leg. It was still extremely sore, but it would support her weight. She got up and limped a few steps to the wardrobe, took out a fresh nightgown and changed into it as fast as she could in her current state. She was just slipping back under the sheets when Hermione pushed open the door with her elbow and entered with a tray.
"What the… Minerva, there is this trick called magic that you could have used to get changed without risking a fall!" Hermione scolded.
Minerva grinned.
"Magic, eh? And what is that?"
With a flick of her wand, Minerva lifted the tray from Hermione's hands and levitated it to the nightstand.
"Cheeky," Hermione grinned back.
Minerva scooted over to one side of the mattress to make room for Hermione. The girl's eyes widened. Surely Minerva didn't mean …
"You had been planning to stay the night anyway, hadn't you?"
Hermione felt caught.
"Well, not like that."
"You need to get warm and I don't bite."
Hermione shrugged. She knew when she had lost a battle. With a Cheshire grin, Hermione waved her wand and transfigured her robes into a set of pyjamas.
"I'm impressed. You even got the McGonagall tartan right."
"I've had a good teacher," Hermione smiled and climbed into bed. She handed Minerva a mug of steaming hot tea.
The two women sat shoulder to shoulder leant against the headboard for some time. Both sipped their tea in companionable silence. Finally, Minerva spoke.
"What were you researching in the library that late at night?"
Hermione hesitated for a second.
"Memory charms," she finally said. She felt Minerva shuffle next to her. "Please don't ask. I don't want to have to lie to you and it's safer if you don't know."
Minerva regarded her for a long moment. The girl's composure had changed. She seemed sad.
"Alright, I won't ask. But Hermione, if you need any help, please let me know."
"Thank you. I will keep that in mind."
Hermione sighed and set down her empty mug.
"You really don't mind me sleeping here?"
"Not at all. I think… We could both do with some company tonight."
Hermione observed her. The statement not only showed her Minerva's understanding for the mood she was in, it also revealed much about the older woman's state of mind and Hermione was astounded that Minerva was so open with her by now. She briefly wondered if she'd remain like that in the future. She'd hate for Minerva to close up on her again.
Minerva yawned. Hermione took the mug from her and placed it next to hers on the nightstand.
"Shall I switch off the light, then?"
Minerva got comfortable under the blanked and nodded. A whispered nox and the room fell dark. Minerva noticed the wandless magic but was too tired to make a remark. Her hand searched for Hermione's under the blanket.
"Are you comfortable?" the girl asked.
"Very. Are you?"
The girl snuggled up against her shoulder.
"Couldn't be better. How's your leg?"
"Couldn't be better."
"Liar. I'll get you another potion in the morning."
"Goodnight Hermione."
"Goodnight Minerva."