Suddenly, Minerva stood up and left the room, leaving Hermione behind. A deep sigh escaped the girl's mouth. She had hoped that her old professor would allow herself some comfort, maybe even open up and talk, but that obviously wasn't the case. Knowing the stern professor, it was no big surprise, of course.
Hermione was just about to go, when the door opened and Minerva entered with a white scrapbook in one hand, a bottle of Firewhiskey in the other.
To Hermione's surprise, the elder witch sat back down next to her. For a while she just sat there, staring at the scrapbook. As curious as Hermione was, she didn't ask. Instead she draped the blanket over the widow's knees and summoned two glasses, filling them with Firewhiskey. It seemed they both could do with a drink.
Minerva took a long sip, before opening the slightly yellowed cover. "Would you like to see our wedding album?" she whispered, her voice still rough from her earlier crying. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than ever.
"Yes, I'd love to see it." Dust from turning the old pages that held the secret memories of the grieving woman danced in the soft afternoon light. The first photo showed a much younger Minerva in the arms of Albus Dumbledore, laughing as if they hadn't a care in the world. He looked very handsome, dressed in a traditional Scottish kilt. Hermione didn't know very much about tartans, but this one was definitely a McGonagall clan one. Minerva was dressed in a long, white and beautiful wedding dress, looking absolutely breathtaking.
"Oh Minerva, you were such an amazingly beautiful bride," Hermione whispered. She was so busy staring at the picture that she had missed the tears streaming down the older woman's face. Only the heart wrenching sob beside her brought her attention back. She put an arm around Minerva and gently pulled her closer, offering the comfort of a warm body to lean on. It was a kind of comfort Minerva had missed ever since the death of her husband.
Feeling Minerva's head carefully resting against her own, Hermione placed a small kiss on the widow's temple. "You don't have to do that now," Hermione whispered. "We have time. If you want, you can show me later or whenever you are ready."
When Minerva was a little calmer, Hermione took the album and placed it on the table. "Come with me." She took the older woman's hand and stood. "A little walk will do you good now. Sometimes some fresh air does wonders."
It was late afternoon and for a change, it didn't rain. Hermione was sure it would help her mentor to put a little space between herself and the memories in that scrapbook. Whether Minerva knew or not, she wasn't ready yet and pushing would do more harm than good.
The older woman took some time to dry her eyes and compose herself, before she stood as well and followed Hermione to the door. Looking at the young witch's rather thin jacket, she asked, "Is that all you had with you? "
When Hermione confirmed her suspicion, Minerva opened the wardrobe in the hall and gave her a thick tweed jacket and a tartan shawl.
A few minutes into the walk Hermione was very grateful for the woman's thoughtfulness. She had always underestimated the icy wind and of course, Minerva knew that. Even at Hogwarts her old professor had given her a scarf more than once during some of the Quiddich games, along with a lecture about thermodynamics.
Having reached a cliff overlooking the dramatic landscape with a loch in front of them, Hermione started shivering, obviously reminding Minerva of the many times she had told the young woman about the Scottish weather. Smiling, she took hold of the lose end of Hermione's scarf and tucked it back in. "You still haven't learned, have you?"
"As long as I have you, I don't need to learn." Hermione squeezed her mentor's cold hand and joined her in overlooking the lake. The wind was cold and it smelled like snow was coming this way.
"Thank you, Hermione." Minerva didn't look at the girl beside her.
"Whatever for?" Hermione asked, unsure what she had done that deserved a rarely given thank you from the normally so stern woman.
"For coming to see me on Christmas. For taking the risk of getting hurt. For..." Now she turned to look at Hermione, her green eyes holding a sadness that tugged at the young witch's heart. "I know I am not very approachable, Hermione."
Hermione watched the elder woman standing in the cold wind that had tugged several graying strands of hair out of the usual bun, solid like a rock. Her walls were equally solid and seemingly as high as the cliff they were standing on. No, Minerva McGonagall was anything but approachable.
"I am here." It was the simple truth. She had gathered her courage and come, not knowing if she would be welcome.
"And I don't know why and what to do with you. I don't know what to…." A sob shook her body and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand as if realizing that her soul mate was dead. "Merlin, why did he leave me? How dare this bloody old fool leave me!" The whisper turned into shouting, so loud that the sound echoed from the bens surrounding them.
She started collapsing under the weight of her sorrow, but Hermione quickly wrapped her arms around the sobbing witch, holding her up. Tears were streaming down her own face. "No, no. Not here," she whispered. "It is too cold. We need to go home."
The words didn't get through. "He left me. I am all alone," she whimpered.
Hermione started rocking the woman in her arms. "You're not alone. Shhh… You'll never be alone. I'm right here."
"He left," the older witch repeated.
Hermione tightened her arms around Minerva's shaking frame. "I know. Darling, I know. He would never have left if he had seen another way. He loved you."
"I don't know what to do. Hermione, I don't know what to do." Hermione had never heard her so desperate before, clinging to her former pupil as if her life was depending on it.
"We'll think of something. I promise, we'll get you through this," Hermione tried to soothe.
They stood like that until Minerva felt Hermione shiver. "You're cold."
Nodding, Hermione wiped her tears before reaching out and gently dried Minerva's cheeks. "Let's go home." They took one last look at the loch and silently walked back. Hermione closed her hand around Minerva's, not wanting her to feel alone.
After a while, Hermione felt her cold hand being squeezed tightly. "I'm sorry."
The young witch returned the pressure on her hand and paused for a moment. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Please don't apologize."
Minerva looked at her and Albus's home in the distance, shaking her head in lack of appreciation. "It was five months ago. I was fine. I don't understand… Why now?"
"You weren't fine, Minerva." Taking her mentor's other hand as well, she explained. " You were just so terribly busy that you didn't have time to grieve until now."
When they reached the house, Hermione helped Minerva out of her jacket and guided her to sit on the sofa. After Minerva magically lit the fire, Hermione asked, "I'll go and get some tea, alright?"
The older woman nodded. "The kitchen is through that door." She vaguely waved her bony, cold hand into the direction of a door Hermione recognized as the one Minerva had brought their tea from earlier.
It worried Hermione a bit that Minerva hadn't moved at all since she had left and she put the tray with the tea on the table. "Minerva," she said, and approached the fragile woman. "Let's get you comfortable, aye? Put your legs up. Yes, that's it." Satisfied, Hermione tenderly tugged the throw that had covered them earlier around the older woman and handed her a cup of steaming hot tea. "Here you go."
Not wanting to put so much space between them by sitting in one of the armchairs, Hermione took her cup and sat on the thick and soft carpet next to the sofa. As if to reassure her mentor that she wasn't alone, Hermione let her right hand rest on Minerva's blanket covered knee.
Watching her former charge sit on the carpet, the older witch started, "Hermione, you don't have to…"
"I know, but I want to," Hermione interrupted. Even as a child she had sat on the floor beside her granny's chair and read a book, wanting to be near her, but give her enough space as well.
They sat in silence for a while, each of them occupied with their own thoughts. Minerva was the first to break the silence. "It was a good idea." At Hermione's confused look she elaborated. "The walk. I feel a little more like a person again. I needed a bit of fresh air."
The young woman smiled understandingly. "I'm glad you think so. It always helped me to clear my head."
"Hermione, you know you don't have to do that, don't you?"
"Do what?" Hermione asked confused.
"Being here. It will be Christmas Eve tomorrow and you should celebrate with your friends."
"I intend to celebrate it with a friend, unless you want me to leave."
"No, of course I don't want you to leave. It is just…." Minerva shook her head and looked at Hermione with a sad, almost embarrassed expression. " Hermione, I don't have any experience with this. I never had any close friends and I have no idea what to do with you."
The proud Head of House was insecure and obviously a little scared at the prospect of having to let someone in. "You don't have to do anything," Hermione soothed. "Just allow it to happen. I have enough experience for both of us and I'm more than willing to teach you the rules of friendship."
"There are rules?" Minerva asked, her lips curling slightly in amusement.
"Oh yes, " Hermione confirmed. "Rule number one: Always be honest."