The Room

So now everyone who mattered knew. Ginny, Luna, Harry, Ron, they all knew the truth about the darkness and McGonagall. Somehow, looking her ex in the eye made it easier to gather the courage to lay out her heart. So now she didn't have to worry about it anymore. Ron had promised to write and she had promised to be more open about herself. None of the terrible things she had expected had happened. So why did she still feel like she was being crushed? She should be happy, right? She should finally be free of the sadness and the dread and everything that came with it, so why wasn't she?

Two days had passed since Hogsmeade and Hermione still felt like she had before. Lying on the sofa in the head mistress' office as she tended to do, her heart felt hollow as a bird's bone but heavy as a stone. In her head she kept going over the interactions she'd had with her friends. Smiling, laughing, working side-by-side, but alone she ended up back at the start with emotions that refused to budge.

Minerva was out on business and although Hermione had told Ginny she felt rotten, she didn't really want to face the concerned side-way glances and placating voice, nor the noise of a hall full of hungry students.

It was dinner time and her stomach made some sounds, but mostly she felt ill. Sick, tired, empty. Hunger was still something that she couldn't recognise. She couldn't even summon the focus to complete her arithmacy homework. She tucked her arms under the couch's cushion and pressed her face into it until she had to come up for air.

Hours passed and by ten Minerva still hadn't returned, but Hermione could feel her eyes drooping as the heaviness exhausted her, wearing her into submission. Minerva. Named after the goddess of hunting and wisdom. Hermione moved her thoughts to the other woman as she waited. Minerva with the gentle hands and the eyes so bright, so green they reminded her of sunlight filtered through leaves. Minerva who made her feel safe, at home. Minerva who called her 'my darling', 'my dear', 'my love'. Minerva whose body fit into hers when they hugged, just that much taller so that she could pressed her lips to Hermione's head while her hands stroked her curls. Minerva who Hermione wanted to see more of, feel more of. Minerva

Hermione drifted off to sleep with one hand on the floor, the other with knuckles pressed against her lips.


"Oh, Muddy, Muddy, Muddy, you didn't really think I'd let you go, did you?" Bellatrix was standing behind her, holding a fistful of hair so tight that Hermione couldn't turn her head. Tears were streaming down her eyes. She had been so close. So close to escaping. Or so she thought. Laughter filled her ears, filled her mind, filled her entire body until she was shaking with it. As it died down, Lestrange pulled her back by the hair, dragging her into the room. That room. The room where the interrogation had begun. "You just make it too fun, girly. Maybe I'll take you down into the maze and we can play cat and mouse, hmm? Little mouse can run, little mouse can hide, but kitty cat will find you and then I'll make you cry." Despite the hand that held her, pulled her backwards, screaming, Hermione tried to surge forward, a desperate attempt to escape but the other hand punched her hard in the kidney and she fell to her knees. Bellatrix didn't falter and continued to wrench her back into the small dark room. The door swung shut and the shrill laughter was matched with shrieks.


Professor McGonagall had gotten back to Hogwarts just after eleven, bone tired and sick of politics. The candles around her office had burned out and from the sofa, which was still a sofa, she heard long, relaxed breathing. She looked down at the girl who had fallen asleep with her day clothes on and smiled fondly. Even in the dark with just moonlight to see by she could make out the features of Hermione's face, wan cheeks with a smattering of dark freckles and full, pink lips open slightly to reveal her perfectly straight teeth. Minerva recalled Hermione having a very different mouth when she was younger, but thought nothing of it. Mostly she just thought of how sweet and beautiful the young woman was.

Trying not to linger on that last thought, she went to her own room to retrieve a warm blanket to drape over Hermione's long, thin form. She hesitated, but with no one to see or judge, she finally bent onto one knee and pressed her lips to the girl's forehead, allowing herself to keep them there a few seconds too long before pulling away.

In her chest her heart spun with unaddressed emotion, but she ignored it as she readied herself for bed, trying to turn her thoughts to things that didn't make her heart speed up. Like her meeting with the school board and that man with the grey hat who had insisted on taking her for a drink.

It was nearly two in the morning when Minerva awoke. At first she didn't know why – generally she was a deep sleeper – but a second later it came again, the high fit of laughter ending in a petrified screech that had pierced through the veil of her dream. Without bothering to throw on a robe, she tore from the bed and flung open her bedroom door.

On the couch Hermione lay on her back, eyes wide open but her irises swung back and forward rapidly as if she were still in the stages of REM. Only groans of pain and the gnashing of teeth separated the screams and choking sobs. One arm was raised outward, but the rest of her was frozen stiff. It was if someone was holding her there and as Minerva raced across the room she saw slashes opening on the elevated limb.

Without another moment to take in the situation, Minerva was on her knees, fearfully dragging Hermione onto her lap. Still, the young witch seemed unresponsive and terrified, screaming at the touch, pulling back and without knowing what else to do, the older woman shook her, calling her name.

The screeching subsided slowly and Minerva hugged the now limp girl to her body and pressed the messy head of hair against her shoulder until the bloody arm dropped into her lap. There was a long sigh from the girl followed by confused blinking. Minerva sobbed in relief and held her tighter, still rocking back and forth caught between horror and relief.

"Professor?" Hermione slurred into her collarbone, "What's going on?"

Trying to stifle her own tears, Minerva leaned forward and kissed Hermione gently on one cheek, then the other, both tasting of salt. Instinctually, Hermione moved her own mouth closer to the other's, but before their lips could meet, the older woman pulled back, still holding her, but so that she could examine the violently slashed forearm resting between them.

"You're bleeding."

Hermione's heart shuddered as she lifted the scarred limb to see it in the moonlight. Red glistened from deep blade-marks, dripping from her parchment-white arm and onto her teacher's white nightgown. Hermione's face remained blank, confused, as if wondering whether she was still asleep.

"We'll figure this out, my love. Come on."

Mutely, Hermione rose and let herself be led by the hand, still unable to register what had happened. She had been sound asleep one minute and the next wrapped in the arms of her teacher, blood everywhere. She stared at the wound, Mudblood barely readable now through the crimson as Minerva sat them both on the edge of her bed. Fear sent adrenaline coursing through her and when she looked at the professor who studied the cuts with red-rimmed eyes, she saw the emotion echoed back through a layer of attempted composure.

Snatching the wand from the beside table, the older woman pointed it towards the bathroom and without an uttered word white padding and gauze flew to her other hand. Ever so gently, she pressed the cotton to where the blood had ceased to ooze. Both witches stared, baffled, as blood was wiped away to reveal the scar already healed to near normalcy. No one could have guessed it had been gushing only minutes before if it wasn't for the trail of droplets on the carpeted floor and the rust coloured stain from Minerva's chest to her lap.

Minerva turned Hermione's hand over and over, running her fingers softly over it, trying to find an open wound. It barely stung now, but the flesh around it was sensitive wherever fingers brushed.

Hermione touched the back of the hand on her arm. The skin was loose and spotted with age, but so very soft. Her fingers traced the tendons in it, still trying to solidify her place in the wakening world.

"I don't remember what happened," Hermione whispered when Minerva withdrew the hand, "I was waiting for you to come home and then you were here and my arm was…" She turned her arm over again and again. The blood was drying and the scars were closed, but she hadn't seen this much blood on her since… was she in a room?

"I think this is too dangerous for the potion you're taking to handle. I think we need to find some way to address the source of these nightmares." It was hard to seem like she was in control when really, Minerva felt so scared she felt she could be sick. Hermione was still looking at her arm, her lower lip trembling. To make her look away, McGonagall lifted Hermione's chin with a hand and moved it to caress her jaw line. "I'll make some queries in the morning. You're welcome to sleep in here if you're comfortable with it, or else-"

"I'll be fine in here."

There was a flicker of emotion Hermione couldn't place on her tutor's face and then a nod.

"We'll do this together, my love, I promise."

The second time Hermione fell asleep she took a double dose of the potion and felt clean from the shower she had taken after Minerva. It was hard to see the bloodied pile of clothing, but it wasn't until she had crawled between the sheets that the weight of the situation beared down on her. The fear was about to overwhelm her when she rolled onto her other side. Minerva was facing her, too, her green eyes reflecting the moonlight where tears tried to break free. The sight made Hermione's fear crumble and she reached out with one hand which Minerva took.

"Can I come closer?" Hermione's voice was small and terrified, but Minerva gently pulled her in until Hermione could turn over, her body cradled by the other woman and a strong arm wrapped protectively around her. She barely had time to ponder the sensation before the potion kicked in and she fell backwards and alone into the dark abyss of sleep where the monsters still lurked, waiting for another opportunity.


A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I agree that Ron often comes across as an ass but even though I enjoy a lot of those stories I wanted to give him a chance in this one because even if he is hard-headed and comes across as insensitive he still has a good heart and wants the best for Hermione. I have written some future chapters that heavily involve him to try and give a glimpse at his point of view so hopefully they'll be okay. Enjoy!