A/N – So I was surprised really, with the response to my first chapter, which I did some updating on so it might be a good idea to go back and re-read that. Thanks for all the encouraging words. So here is chapter 2. Still don't own the HP universe. I wish.
When Hermione walked into McGonagall's office the first thing she noticed was a chair sitting in front of the older woman's desk. It was plain with no arms or cushioning. It sat dead center, straight across from the stern woman that owned it. Said woman's head snapped up when Hermione closed the door behind her.
"Ms. Granger, sit please. You're late. Did you not remember my warning or did you simply choose not to heed it?" The emerald eye staring at her, eyes the young woman used to admire, used to dream about, but no more. There was no room for admiration amongst the cold anymore. No room for dreams amongst the nightmares. She sat.
"Neither professor, I- I lost track of the time. I apologize."
"Be that as it may, get used to coming here every evening for the next month. Understood?"
"Yes Ma'am." Hermione hung her head and simply avoided looking at the woman sitting in front of her. "What shall my punishment be professor? Will you have me writing lines or scrubbing tables?"
"No Ms. Granger I won't. I simply want to talk to you." With that said McGonagall stood and walked around the desk and knelt next to the younger Gryffindor. She took Hermione's arm in gentle fingers and placed her other hand over where she knew, if she were to slide the sleeve up, she would find scars and cuts ranging in color from old silvery to new and pink. "I am not going to ask you about these." She watched the young woman's head almost fly off her shoulder's as she looked at her mentor and it almost caused her to chuckle, almost. "No you aren't ready to talk about it yet and I respect that. I do on the other hand want to know about the other bruises. Are you being hurt at home? Or here?"
"NO! Well sort of at home but not exactly."
"Did your parents do this to you?"
"No I don't even speak to my parents anymore. I didn't spend the winter holiday with them so no, they couldn't have. This wasn't abuse ok?" Hermione looked away from the woman.
"Ok, what are they from then?"
"Sport."
The professor's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "A sport caused this? What were you playing?" The older witch knew that Quidditch was a brutal game but she didn't know of any muggle sprts that would cause bruises like this.
"It's called Roller Derby. Honestly it puts Quidditch brutality to shame professor. The object is to lap the other team."
"I'm confused." The woman admitted.
Hermione pulled a quill, some ink and some paper towards her and drew up a diagram for the professor to look at. "We all wear skates, shoes with wheels on them. And we go around this circle. The object is to get around the circle and pass the other team. The problem being, there are pretty much no rules. It is a fully contact sport."
"So the bruises on your ribs?"
"Got run over by one of the other team members." She shrugged. To her this was no big deal. She had been playing for a long time.
"But surely they would have healed by now. When did your season end?"
"The day before we came back from break."
"Where did you stay for break if not with your parents by the way?" the older witch was concerned that she may have been staying on the streets.
"With Baby Doll, the jammer for our squad. She is the one that the rest of the team has to help with lapping the other team. She and I have always been really close friends."
"Ok. So that explains that. Why do you play such a hurtful sport then?" The professor straightened and pulled her chair from behind her desk to face Hermione's.
"Because it is so hurtful."
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
"I play Derby for the same reason I cut myself, mostly. I mean I really do love the sport it's awesome and I love my team, but I play because it hurts. Just like with cutting. It makes me feel something, feeling pain is better than feeling nothing at all. It's the only way I know I'm still alive anymore. I…" McGonagall held up her hand.
"I understand. Hermione why did you never come to me with this? Talk to Harry and Ron about…"
"NO!" the young woman almost fell over in her haste to get away from her professor. "No I can't- I…They don't…they never really…" Hermione was backing away from the older woman until her back met the stone wall behind her. They terrified expression in the girls eyes told horror stories that no one should even think about. She wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over, trying, for all she was worth, to block out the memories over coming her.
Bellatrix sitting on her chest, taunting her. Lucius Malfoy whispering in her ear all his venom. The two of them telling their stories.
"They only liked you for your brain." Lucius taunted.
"The Boy Who Lived would never truly like a filthy mudblood like you. You were nothing but an easy 'O' to him. A good grade." Bellatrix's breath was hot and stung on her flesh. Her blade dug into Hermione's arm punctuating all her words, ensuring that no matter how long passed, she would always remember the hateful words. Her body felt dead, like she couldn't fight anymore. So she didn't.
Hermione was pulled from the memory by strong hands grabbing her arms and pulling her forward, away from the wall. She was enveloped in a tight hug and suddenly, as if this embrace had turned on the spigot, she began to cry. For the first time since he stay at Malfoy manner, she cried.
Her professor held her. Whispered soothing nonsense in her ear and stroked her back. "It's going to be ok Hermione. I will help you."
Slowly the young woman began to calm down and pulled away from her mentor. "I don't know what to say."
"Let me help you Hermione. Let me show you how to get through this." The older woman was pleading with her.
"Ok, professor. I don't really think there is anything anyone can do. But ok. I will try."
"Then I think it should be k if you call me Minerva, when we are in private, since we will be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks."
"Alright, Minerva."
"Go back to your dormitory now. I will see you tomorrow in class." The girl started for the door. "Oh Hermione," brown eyes met green, "What made you late today?"
"I was looking at a picture of you and I that Christmas at Grimmauld Place." With that the young witch was gone, leaving a dazed Minerva staring after her.