Chapter 05: As If They've Done This Before


May 7, 1998

Early Evening


"Hermione... Hermione…"

Hermione could hear someone calling her name. She could feel someone touching her shoulder, attempting to rouse her from stupor. But she rejected the spurring, for the current blackness was greatly agreeable to her beaten body, exhausted mind, and afflicted heart.

"Hermione, wake up."

The hand on her shoulder had become quite insistent, relentless in its goal and almost pleading for her to wake up. Somehow, she knew she must respond, but she was having difficulty surfacing to full consciousness. But truly, she felt she must give in to the plea. If she could just summon a little strength...

"Give me a few minutes, Harry." Somehow she remembered the necessity for her to get up, and though she meant not to make excuses, she couldn't help but mumble, "I think I got too spent re-casting the wards earlier, but I'll get up in a while and will take over handling the horcrux."

Unable to open her eyes and really trying hard to get herself into a sort of wakefulness, her body turned languidly to one side, pushing herself into the makeshift bed she had been using for several months while out on the run...

Only it felt different.

"Hermione, I loathe to wake you but you need sustenance."

And that voice wasn't Harrys.

The hand that was earlier on her shoulder was now gently raking her hair and tucking some loose sections behind her ear. A familiar scent…and then the notion that she was partially pressed into someone's warmth had finally registered into her brain. With the greatest effort, she shifted her back into the mattress and finally opened her eyes.

For a moment her vision was blurry, and then it settled into the much concerned emerald eyes of Minerva McGonagall.

Minerva… Waking her up... Seated on the right side edge of the bed… A bed she had no recollection of at all.

Unknowing and quite confused at this point, Hermione tried to determine if she was still asleep, if what she was seeing was not just a phantom of her yearning... Pondering hard, she closed her eyes in order to disperse the image of Minerva just beside her… and she sought to reconcile her current situation. She started digging up the last thing she could remember... But she was drawing blank.

"Hermione, I know you need sleep, but it will be better for you if you eat something first."

She heard the request for her to be awake once again. And felt a hand gently run down one of her arms.

"What… happened—?" She slowly re-opened her eyes as she attempted to ask questions of her whereabouts, but suddenly found her throat too dry to complete her sentence.

Also, it finally dawned on her that her favourite emerald-eyed woman was indeed sitting with her. That it was not just a product of her imagination.

"You fainted. And then I apparated us here. Do you recall being at Hogwarts training ground?"

Hogwarts… Training ground… Hermione slowly nodded as she underwent a quick flashback.

"Oh, Hermione, evil would always try to return. But Darling, while they are not around, we must not spend one moment longer in suffering— not one moment as their captive..."

Minerva… Gentle words… Tender touches on her shoulders… Her magic cracking… Difficulty breathing… Blackness…

"Where... where is here?" She asked after pulling back from the recollection.

"The Manor."

"Manor?"

"McGonagall Manor. I…" Minerva paused, slightly tilting her head, and gently peered into Hermione's eyes. "I took you home, Hermione... I was unsure if you'd rather be at the Burrow. Harry mentioned to me yesterday that you opted to stay somewhere else. Only he didn't mention where... Certainly we could go anywhere if you wish. But, I would insist that we only do so after you've eaten something."

"I'm not really— " Hermione didn't want to be dishonest, but she also wasn't inclined to announce her present dislike of eating. She then settled for one version of the truth. "I can't seem to find any appetite…"

Minerva nodded at her in clear understanding, "I know. For a while, eating will really feel like shoving dry stones down your throat, and your stomach will stubbornly refuse easy digestion."

With the unexpected exact comprehension, Hermione could not help the feeling of easement. She was beginning to doubt if she wasn't just making things difficult for herself, but she knew that it was never her nature to purposely starve herself. She had no intention to forsake her health. Things were just muddling her mind too much.

She kept forming assaulting thoughts, like how could she take up dining as if nothing were amiss…when several acquaintances of hers would never eat…as they were now dead... Part of her logical brain was aware of how futile the contention was. But it still was not helping her pick up a spoon. Nevertheless, she knew it would pass. And she was banking on it happening sooner rather than later.

"You have to try. You know you have to." Minerva made to move and reach out for the tray on the bedside table she didn't notice earlier. "You're extremely drained of any nutrients, not to mention thoroughly dehydrated. Your body couldn't take the negligence anymore. You can't allow yourself to be gravely ill."

Upon seeing the food in it, she felt her tummy instantly recoil. She concentrated on not making any heaving action and forced herself to accept the accuracy of what Minerva had said about her sustenance. Moving to sit upright, she directed her thoughts to simple good sense... After forgoing so many meals, it really was a surprise that it had taken her till now to collapse.

"Soup, sandwich, and fruits. You need not finish it all if you can't... Just have something. Please?"

Hermione heard the soft plea, and stared into imploring emerald eyes, before carefully looking at the tray with food that had been placed between them on a conjured bed table. She checked the reaction of her tummy and found that it was not in protest anymore, contrary to how she felt just moments ago. Irrational or not, she attributed the settling down of her gut to Minerva's intervention.

"Will you share some bites with me?" She surprised herself with her question…as well as Minerva.

After a short pause, unbelievably, the older witch nodded and conjured another fork. "But you are eating most of these as I already had dinner."

Hermione nodded in agreement; scouped the soup gently and then took her first spoonful slowly. When she looked up and found Minerva's approving features, a small smile worked its way onto her face. She then had another while the older woman forked a slice of a fruit.

"Is your back better?" She asked, pausing her spoon mid-air as she suddenly remembered the older woman's injuries from the battle.

"Yes, the swelling is almost gone. Are your burns completely healed?" Minerva volleyed back and Hermione nodded to convey an affirmation.

For several minutes, they remained silent as they continued to share the food between them. Plainly, Minerva was manoeuvring to just take a bite after every three or four ones of Hermione's. When she managed to finish more than half of the serving and felt her tummy slightly object to taking more, she put her utensils down and conveyed satiation. She was afraid that Minerva would insist that she should have more, but thankfully, the older woman merely nodded.

Afterwards, Minerva simply handed her a glass of orange juice. While reaching for the proffered drink, Minerva wandlessly and wordlessly vanished the tray without effort... When Hermione consumed half of the contents, she handed back the glass to Minerva who automatically finished the remaining juice. Following that, they repeated the same thing with a glass of water— Hermione drinking the first half and Minerva finishing the glass. Their actions were done with such ease that one would think it was a habit of theirs done a thousand times, and not for the first time...

Next, Minerva magically refilled the glass and set it on the side table. When the older woman was half standing in order to depart, Hermione placed her hands on her to halter the movements, silently asking her to stay a little longer. Minerva sat back on the bed, giving in to Hermione's request.

"I called you Harry," said Hermione, and the older woman cocked her head, waiting for her to explain further.

"When you were waking me up. I thought you were Harry."

"You did," Minerva mindfully replied.

"I thought… For a moment…" Hermione sighed. "It felt like I was still out there… That I had to do things…"

When she and Ron figured out Harry's plan to go after the Horcruxes by himself, there was no question that they would not allow him to do it alone. In the same vein, she recognised and accepted the weight that had fallen on her as the presumed bearer of all the answers— the designated brain. The person expected to know and cast spell after spell for their needs, particularly for their protection…

The burden, without a doubt, rammed Hermione into the ground. And now that the war was over, the disentanglement was just fusing with so many other things already running rampant inside her. But ceasing her descent into emotional attack, she realized that Minerva had intertwined their fingers and now was softly tugging for her to meet her eyes…mirroring the one they'd shared after the battle. When she did raise her brown eyes, they met clear emerald ones, which thereupon spoke sincerity and certitude.

"I cannot imagine how hard it was for the three of you out there. How burdensome for you. I am just grateful that it is over. Tom is gone. Truly gone this time. Harry is alright. You don't have to protect anyone anymore… You don't have to protect Harry, Ronald… And yourself…" Minerva shifted closer to her, still holding her gaze, and with a somewhat pained expression, Hermione heard the solemn pronouncement, "But I wish with all my heart, that I was out there with you— to protect you… and Harry and Ronald."

Overwhelmed and unable to hold the urge any longer, Hermione crashed herself to Minerva. Her heart was bursting with love for the woman who had captured her entire being for quite some time… And the desire to extinguish any space between them as they embraced coursed through her.

At the same time, her mind was pounding for her to use common sense, and prompted her to recall the resolutions she made not even hours ago… Of how she was going to work on unloving Minerva who was not for anyone's taking. Of how she was going to stay away from Minerva in order to recover from the heartbreak.

But Hermione could not have cared less… She shut off her brain for the meantime... And revelled in being in Minerva's arms…

"You couldn't." Hermione reluctantly withdrew herself, wanting to look intently at Minerva as she assuaged the woman. "You needed to be at Hogwarts. Without you there, the staff would have had no one to draw courage from. Then students would have had no chance at all. Hogwarts needed you."

Hermione saw flashes of several raw emotions on Minerva's face. She wanted to capture them and dissect them and hoard them but the older woman had obviously gotten hold of her control instantaneously, retelling Hermione of Minerva's damnable infamous walls. But for all that, a smile was still gracing Minerva's face in assuredness, and Hermione, not wanting to altogether cut the candidness they'd been sharing since waking up, proceeded to open another section of herself to the woman.

"I don't think I'll be returning to Hogwarts for my last year." She drew a long breath at saying it out loud for the first time. "A big part of me wants to come back." She thought of wanting to reclaim that lost year at Hogwarts. And of that lost opportunity to see Minerva for another school year. But again, she knew it would never be the same, which she couldn't say at the moment so she opted to express an equally significant factor... "But...but without Harry and Ron there, for I know they will not come back… It would be different… Difficult, I am certain."

"I figured as much." Minerva replied in kind understanding.

"How would I know it's not the wrong decision?"

"Sometimes— it is how it feels. I supposed it does not feel right to you to come back without Harry and Ronald. That is actually most understandable... Furthermore, you already know that staying another year at Hogwarts is irrelevant to your learning. We both know that you could have taken and passed NEWTS in your 5th year or even 4th, and get marks of Es and Os."

Mostly, Hermione was relieved and pleased that Minerva supported her probable decision not to go back to Hogwarts. But she was also a bit surprised, for such conveyed high confidence in her intellect, and she opted for a way out through playfulness. So, she smilingly asked, "Maybe not in Divination?"

"Oh, well, we all have that one subject." Minerva deadpanned.

They chuckled at the common sentiment. Unknowingly, they both thought back at the various meetings they had in Minerva's office, of incidents that had them lightheartedly affront Divination. Almost all their meetings were spent in serious sessions of learning and fervent discussions. Particularly on more complex aspects of magic, often while combing through the latest transfiguration journal. But from time to time when Divination was mentioned in tangent, they would be unable to withhold their amusement and subsequent poking of the subject. Hermione clearly remembered the time she caught Minerva McGonagall holding back a smile when she first admitted that she had dropped Divination after arguing with Professor Trelawney's illogical presentiment.

"Though I have to admit, I would miss, just as I had this year, that bi-monthly knock at my office for a fresh intellectual sparring with one brilliant young lady."

"Really?"

"Aye. Do you know that at times it would occur to me how someday you'd bring up a topic that I would falter with?

"NEVER. That someday will not happen." Smiling brightly at what Minerva said about missing her, but rather unsure how to address it without leading into a mad confession of her love, she decided to issue back a rhetorical question. "Do you know that students, especially Ravenclaws, fear that there isn't a spell they could find in the library that you do not know?"

"Quite a compliment, but severely inaccurate," Minerva replied, slightly grinning. The corner of her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Come on, how many books have you left UNREAD in that library?" Hermione gibed, raising the digits of her hands in illustration. "Ten books?"

"How many books have YOU not read?" Minerva retorted, reaching for Hermione's hands again, and clasping them back together unthinkingly.

"Oh, six years did not give me a lot of time to get through even a tenth of them. Plus, it's not easy to sneak out books from the restricted area you know? Now grinning widely as Minerva lifted an eyebrow at her reference of accessing the restricted area, she carried on with her teasing. "So, you DID read the entire library?"

"No! No! A couple of shelves I skipped… like those containing books on Divination. And I avoided the oppressive volumes on potion recipes, as the laborious text tends to shut my eyes." Minerva dryly responded, and it had Hermione openly laughing.

"Okay, okay… That makes about twenty to twenty-five books unread!"

"Who in Merlin's name started that imprecision? And please, a bookish person calling another for her bookish penchant is not nice! You're incorrigible!" Minerva complained mockingly… and then chuckled from their banter.

Hermione could not help but get hooked on the rare loose chuckles that were coming from Minerva. The bright gleaming of her emerald eyes was enchanting to say the least, and it dawned on her how the woman in front of her was not the one presented in public, but Minerva in private.

At such a realization, her heart was pulled in two different directions. One of them, she entirely ignored, as the other was about staying in the moment, which she intended to draw out as long as she could.

"But really, if I have read most of them, that's because of what you said." stated Minerva.

Hermione quickly backtracked a bit, "That in six years I've read almost a tenth?"

"Yes, only six years and you've read through a quarter of them, not a tenth, excluding several of those in the restricted areas." Minerva sported a challenging expression at her obvious intent to correct. She withheld the objection and bit her lip, her shoulders shaking in laughter.

"I, on the other hand, had far longer. Most parents of your fellow students weren't even born yet when I started perusing that library. That's one product of old age."

"You're hardly old." Hermione earnestly protested.

"But I am Hermione. You've read 'Hogwarts: A History', possibly more than once, so you know very well that I am… old."

"That's relative. We know that upon reaching 25 in years, we don't age like muggles anymore... That ours is half the pace."

"Even so, that still makes me quite old."

"But surely you've realised that YOU don't age like other witches— that you seem to age at half of half the pace."

Hermione saw the surprise and unease in Minerva's face, but it was instantly dismissed. An expression of mischief dwelt in it instead. "You need glasses, Hermione!"

"Uh-uh, Mrs. Weasley swore you barely aged from the time she graduated from Hogwarts. How you can defy magical aging is beyond comprehension, even for magical people? And incidentally, that's why Slytherin is most afraid of you?

"Because I am old?"

"No…" Hermione shook her head in earnest. "Because you can defy elementals in magic… Sort of betray primal runic. You know how Slytherins are with their proclivity on concepts of purity."

"So, between the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, I am a smart assed traitor?"

Laughter tore from Hermione's lips, laughter that definitely came from deep in her belly. She couldn't believe Minerva's use of language and self-deprecating humour. Actually, she could. She knew the older witch's sardonic nature was just her extreme wicked sense of humour. Most students were wary and clueless how to react when Minerva would drop one or two wisecracks, but she always— always got a kick out of it.

"And let me guess what the fair-play Hufflepuffs say. That if I could deduct points from my own house, I would unreasonably-reasonably deduct twice from theirs because I expect them to be the most behaved house?"

Hermione, unable to respond in mirth, just nodded her head. Minerva's spot-on humor was beginning to send her into a laughing fit.

"Lovely, that would make me an overly upright smart assed traitor?"

Hermione could not help but laugh harder; tears were forming in her eyes at Minerva's ballooned self-deprecations. She good-humouredly injected more ribbing through her broken sentences. "How—do you know that? Oh wait, because—you—are—a smart—ummm—some—thing!" Hermione teased further, "Ravenclaws are right to fear your supreme knowledge!"

"How uplifting the way the student-body regards me." Minerva wryly remarked, though her emerald eyes were indeed sparkling in laughter. "And pray tell what my Gryffindors dread about me?"

The question abruptly stopped Hermione from laughing. Her brows grew knitted as she tossed in her head the consensus amongst her house members when asked what they feared about one Minerva McGonagall.

"That— terrible huh?" Minerva raised a brow and Hermione could see a bit of worry in her, though she could see as well how the older woman was determined not to show it.

"Gryffindors fear that we would not make you proud of our house," Hermione softly said with as much reverence as she could muster.

Minerva's eyes perceptibly softened, and then the corner of her mouth curved into a wonderful smile at hearing those touching words. "That's quite… an honour… and exceedingly humbling."

Hermione nodded in conviction as she went on saying, "Harry once told me— that as much as he wanted to heed your suggestion to fly under the radar when that horrible Umbridge was at the school, he said— he always felt that you would be more disappointed if we acted less than who we are. Less than the Gryffindors we ought to be."

Pride erupted on Minerva's face and Hermione could see how it was running along with memories that were obviously replaying inside her head. Perhaps one of them is the incident that Harry once narrated to them. Of Minerva telling him to have a biscuit when sent to her office just after he strongly opposed Umbridge in the classroom, fighting for the truth.

Hermione wanted to tell her more of the many commendations from fellow Gryffindors that she had heard through the years. Like how they wanted to win the cup not just for themselves, but more so for the Head of their House. The ardent desire to keep that elated expression on Minerva's face was setting her heart on fire. To witness it was in itself a treasure.

Then she heard Minerva's thoughtful words, "Godric Gryffindor could not be more proud… Especially of you three— Harry, Ronald and you."

Hermione could not have possibly beamed more in response. With her trademark Cheshire grin on her face, she could not help but again open another section of herself to the woman… in effect, digging herself deeper in emotional quicksand.

"Do you want to know what my boggart is?"

"If you wish to tell me," Minerva replied and impulsively raised one hand to tuck Hermione's hair behind one ear.

"You."

At Minerva's knitted brows, Hermione hastily amended, "I mean, not you— you per se. But, 'of you telling me' that I failed at everything. That you just made an error in giving my Hogwarts letter. That you will tell me that I am not good enough to have a place here in your world— magical world."

Winded at the rushed declaration, Hermione stared in horror as she apparently rendered Minerva speechless, and it gave her a lapsing feeling. The sound of silence had not given her a sense of assurance; an onslaught of misgivings was beginning to launch from the pit of her guts.

Then without warning, Hermione heard a full abandoned guffaw from Minerva McGonagall. The woman who exclusively held her heart was now laughing so intensely that tears were forming in her emerald eyes. One elegant hand cradled the side of her stomach, easing the stitches produced by laughter.

In any other situation, to be laughed at just after baring a part of oneself would be very offensive. But the merrily laughing witch in front of her could not bring her to feel anything remotely negative. In fact, the radiant picture of Minerva laughing without constraint was taking hold of her heart in rapture. 'Merlin, she's beautiful.' Hermione thought and it was absolutely taking her breath away.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to laugh… It's just that— most people fear Voldemort, or ghastly creatures, and endless other mortal perils, but you— your fear of me saying irrational things to you had me taken aback."

"They are not irrational. I couldn't care less if I'd make Hogwarts' four founders proud, including Merlin himself. Because… Because I would be very content to make Minerva McGonagall proud!"

Hermione's filter totally went out of the window. She felt so upset at the notion that Minerva thought that her fear was too insignificant, so she let words come out of her lips without running through the implications first.

"Oh Hermione, you may rest your fear. Do you know that when the Order learned that you three took off, somehow I was convinced that you'd make it through? Yes, indeed I worried so much about you, feared for what you'd have to go through, but I've witnessed how brilliant you are. I knew you'd never allow yourself to fail at anything you've set your sights on. While it is true that Harry was the focal point of Voldemort's downfall, let me tell you that he had no chance if he did not have you in his life. Harry knows that. And you'd be surprised how many of us believe that."

"Really?" Hermione asked tentatively, in a voice that had come out soft and shaky. She was quite shocked at what Minerva had said in explanation.

"Aye. And now that there is no war hanging over our heads, it's just a matter of time— a short one by my estimation, until you'll astound the entire wizarding world with your brilliance. I… We… can't wait for you to change the world. Actually, you already have."

Minerva's declaration was heavily laced with apparent fondness. It tempted Hermione for a brief moment to debate within herself if the statement meant more than mentor-caring-for-protégé. She wanted to convince herself that perhaps it was possible for her former professor to see her as more than a former student. But then, as she looked intently into the emerald eyes of Minerva McGonagall, she was clearly reminded that the woman was not for anyone's taking. She dismissed the madness of her longing and tried to be content with these moments with Minerva.

"Hermione, I can just imagine the many great things lined up for you. Hence, the question should be— do I… do we deserve you darling?"

Minerva's words pierced Hermione's heart in complexities. Unable to stop herself, she crashed her body into the older witch for the second time. She felt strong arms wrapped around her too, and her heart soared into bliss and anguish. The moment was too grand and too consuming. She feared she'd never be the same person again if Minerva would not be part of her life in any capacity the older woman extended to her. It was thoroughly making her emotions spin into unknown breadth.

After a while, she felt Minerva ease her back on the bed. "We'll talk more tomorrow. You have to rest." Then she moved to get up from her sitting position. "If you need anything, just call Dolly. She is in charge of the Manor."

Not knowing what else to say, but with full emotions swimming inside her, she just nodded in response. Her gaze instinctively trailed after Minerva who was graciously making her way to the door. But before the woman reached the knob, Hermione called out to her inaudibly.

"Minerva… " The older woman paused and turned back to look at her. For the very first time, she made use of Minerva's first name— one she had never before dared utter… And the significance of the addressing also registered in the older witch's countenance.

"Yes?"

Her chocolate coloured eyes stared tenderly into emerald ones, "Thank you," She breathed out and tore her gaze away from the magnificent eyes of Minerva McGonagall.

"You are welcome, Hermione. Good night."

Hermione watched the door close behind Minerva's exit. And only then she released a breath she did not know she was holding. To help ignore the pull to follow the woman, she transferred her attention to the bedchamber that had earlier gone unnoticed when Minerva was in the room with her.

The room was large but not overly so, with walls that were sparsely decorated. But the paneling and columns of wood and stones had the hallmark of extraordinary class and quality that one couldn't deny even if one was not accustomed to looking at designs. The high ceiling, however, was surmounted with carvings of some sort of coat of arms, and Hermione tried to place where she had seen it before. The room had no fireplace, but at a large window, a thick curtain was almost fully drawn, leaving a slight admittance of moonlight that supplemented the lighted candles inside the room. Her thoughts were currently on the bed coverlet that her fingers were skimming when a soft pop garnered her attention.

"Pardon to disturb you, Miss." Hermione shifted her eyes to the area where the sound came. She found an elderly house elf that had appeared near the door.

"Minerva wanted me to bring this to you in case you be wanting sleeping clothes." The elf stepped forward to put the article of clothing on the foot of the bed, then pointed to the door on the right side of the room. "And to tell you that that door would lead you to the bathroom. She said she forgot to tell you so."

"Are you Dolly? I'm Hermione. Please just call me Hermione." She pleasantly responded to Dolly. "It's nice to meet you. Did you prepare the food I ate? I'd like to thank you and to apologise that I probably disturbed your night."

Yellow luminescent eyes stared at her before a smile broke out on her face. "No Miss ahh— No Hermione, it is of no trouble. Especially for you."

"That's most kind of you. Minerva said you are in charge of the Manor."

"Yes. I have been since my mother went to the other side of life." Hermione could see the pride and the satisfaction etched on her old face and she could not help but smile at that.

Then she almost choked on her own saliva with what Dolly said next, "By the way Hermione, I am free. All elves here at McGonagall Manor are. If you must know, we stay here with Minerva of our own decision."

"What? Did you tell me that because you know about SPEW?" Hermione's eyes widened at the probability.

But somewhat disappointingly, Dolly blinked at her several times, clueless of what she was talking about. That confused Hermione because she was sure that Dolly's declaration was correlated to SPEW, Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, an organization she set up at Hogwarts… Hogwarts!

"Do you know any elves at Hogwarts?"

"Binky. Mostly he stays there to look after Minerva, but he mentioned no SPEE…SPEW?..."

"Then why did you tell me what you just told me? About you and the elves here?" Hermione was really curious and she did not hesitate to ask. "Why did you tell me that you're all free?"

"It is because…" Dolly started and Hermione gave her an encouring look to go on. "One school break, when Minerva came home, she talked about one student named Hermione who had taken up the crusade for elves' welfare. How you were making hats. How no one had the heart to tell you that no elf wanted to clean her House common room anymore. How she hoped that you'd always be brave to take up a very good cause no matter how unpopular, and that one day you would beat the odds with your brilliance."

Hermione gasped at finding out that Minerva knew about it. AND that Minerva talked about it…about her…here…at McGonagall Manor…at Minerva's home.

"Minerva said it would have thrilled Isobel McGonagall."

"Minerva's mother?

"Her great-great grandmother. It was she who gave my grandmother clothes. Freed her…our family… Of course we stayed, as we do not want to leave. Mistress Isobel asked that if we stay, we stay as part of the McGonagall family, not as house slaves."

So Minerva's great-great grandmother freed their house elves, possibly more than a hundred years ago, a wonderful discovery that was making Hermione notably pleased. Though she was still perplexed by why Dolly, out of the blue, opened the topic about them being free as if needing to explain... as if she accused them of something… Then Dolly gave her the answer.

"Minerva made mention that she was concerned that the disappointment of not getting the cooperation of the very group you were fighting for would crush your fervor. That was how I told Minerva that if one lady named Hermione ever stayed here, I tell how we have been family to McGonagalls... so that she would have an inspiration."

For the nth time that night, Hermione's heart swelled.

"Thank you Dolly. It is indeed a great encouragement."

The elder elf made a bow. "Manor had no guest for quite some time. I hope you like it here, Hermione...

Is there anything else you'd be needing before I leave you goodnight?"

She said no, and Dolly snapped her fingers, leaving her alone. She decided to take a bath to wash the day's grime off of her. Her body appreciated the wonderful feeling of being clean. Afterwards, knowing the dinginess she probably got into the bed earlier, she performed a scourgify before she hopped back to bed.

As her eyes began to shut, a sudden pleasing thought occurred to her; the set of pajamas given by Dolly that she was now wearing— was of the same kind that she found herself wearing when she woke the day after the battle— ivory colored satin. Seeing that Harry was also in a pair, she thought that it was him who took care of them. It never struck her to ask him. But now, it was apparent it wasn't him. Minerva was the one who took care of them.

Furthermore, she realized that without a doubt, Minerva was the one who placed the healing balms on her shoulder.

Hermione turned on her side; pressing her face into the pillow… she swore she could smell the olive scent of Minerva.

It produced a wide smile on Hermione's face… as she drifted to sleep.

.

.

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End of Chapter 5

Year 1998 – As If They've Done This Before