'Take me.'
It mercilessly kept running through Hermione's mind. When Wormtail had come down, and his wand had enlightened the dimness of the cell, enabling himself to see while in search for her, she had immediately known what was to come next. It already had happened too often not to…
She hadn't really fought anymore as Wormtail emotionlessly took hold of her arm, and dragged her lithe body up for another rendezvous with his Master. Minerva had made the connection fairly soon, and had gotten in between saying just that, 'Take me.', and then, 'I'm sure enough that your Master would be happy to deal with me instead.'
Hermione had really no idea about time. She couldn't possibly guess how long Minerva must have been gone already, but it at least appeared as if the former Head of Gryffindor House had been right about Voldemort's reaction. She had already been gone for a while. If Voldemort wasn't really pleased with her instead of Hermione, he would have commanded Wormtail to come get her instead already. Hermione now only felt particularly guilty. She knew what Voldemort could do. She had already gotten raped innumerable times by him. She knew what it all was like. Yet when Hermione's former Transfiguration Professor had come in between, a strange feel of relief had washed over her. Relief, and gratefulness for the elder woman. Now she felt nothing of that anymore, though. Professor McGonagall hadn't needed the same horror forced upon her, and certainly not at her age. She had already been through enough, hadn't she? Hermione had no idea what was going on upstairs – not even the faintest at all. She hadn't heard any screaming, which she found rather odd considering that she herself had screamed loud enough to be heard through all of the house the very first times…
Everything was entirely quiet, save for the thumping of her heart hammering hard against her ribcage. Was McGonagall all right? Was she even still alive? Was she going to be taken down to the cell again, or…? Right then, she could hear rather than see the door opening. A tall defeated figure was thrown down the stairs, and the cell's heavy door fell shut nearly immediately after that. A little, barely audible, pop could be heard as it locked from the other side by magic. The figure of Minerva McGonagall reached the bottom of the stairs with a rather sickening sound, followed by a weak "Ouch". This certainly alarmed Hermione. Minerva wasn't the type to show any weakness with anyone unless really unmanageable.
She panickedly swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, before it got too big to get rid of, and she quietly uttered the elder Professor's name. "Professor McGonagall?" No reply came at that. Hermione inhaled deeply, and crawled over to where the woman had fallen, much like yesterday night when she had been taken in. She came into contact with the fabric of the elder woman's torn robes, and moved on until she could close her fingers around the other woman's wrist. She slowly made her way up to her shoulder, squeezing it. As she quietly trailed her hand further up over the elder woman's parted lips, she swallowed. That motion carried something very intimate. Hermione's finger tips moved up further over the former Deputy's cheek, feeling wetness. That was when Hermione realized that the Professor must have begun weeping in silence. "Professor, are you…hurt?" Hermione's voice caught at that very last word.
A rather weak cough indicated that Minerva was trying to find the strength to reply. "I'm fine," she whispered in the end, sounding hoarse. Both women knew it was a lie. Hermione didn't dare ask what he had done to her. She couldn't bear it. Thus she slowly felt her way up, pulling Minerva in an embrace. A wince immediately sounded, but when Hermione wanted to pull back, Minerva intuitively pulled herself nearer to her former pupil, holding on as if for dear life. She was gasping for air heavily now, and in the dimness Hermione failed to see the beads of sweat that had formed on the mentor's forehead, as she by pure force of will refrained from shouting her anguish, and pain.
"Professor, how have you landed?"
"My b-back," Minerva whispered, and she could not contain the shiver that broke through that last word anymore. She continued to slowly inhale, and exhale through the pain. Her back had already gotten worse after the four Stunners the year in which Umbridge had ruled. She could barely move now…
"Oh Professor… Is there anything I could do to make you feel better? I mean, it is my fault that…"
"Nonsense," McGonagall whispered, and a silence fell between both women. Neither of them said anything, as Hermione continued to hold the Professor against her with one hand, and carefully searched her way down the older woman's pained lower back. Minerva winced, and that made Hermione a tad more insecure, but she carefully continued massaging her mentor's lower back with one hand, rubbing comforting circles between her shoulder blades with the other.
After a while Minerva's winces died away, and her intakes of air became more normal again. She then took a somewhat deeper intake, and said, "Hermione. I have chosen for this myself… Voldemort cannot see that by hurting you, he would pain me more than by physically hurting me myself. Please let it remain that way. I imagine that you have already been through enough." Hermione's mouth opened. Upon hearing the intake of air, Minerva's forefinger intuitively reached across her lips to shush her. "No, don't tell me. I know, Hermione. He's an animal. Sometimes, I would like to believe he is more snake than human. He might not have been in appearance, but he already was so animalistic in his times at Hogwarts. He especially sought the more popular girls to run after, gathering them to him like trophies, talked nice with them until he had gotten just what he wanted from them, then turned his back at them again." Hermione didn't dare ask if she once had been one of these girls, but Minerva slowly continued, "Although I was still in school by the time he began experimenting with Darker Arts, and I was only one year older than Voldemort, Albus and I were two of the few who really saw him for what he actually was. Maybe therefore his unreasonable rage against us both in particular. I never wanted to get involved with him. I never even wanted to have anything to do with him. I was one of the girls Tom Riddle desired, but could never get. I only hope his rage is big enough still to remain for a while, so that he'll leave you alone for the time being." Again an intake of air told Minerva her companion was hoping to get something in between, but again she beat Hermione to it. "I'm already scarred by two Wizarding Wars. I'm not as valuable anymore. You shouldn't have to go through this if there's another way. There is, but unfortunately I'm old, and unsatisfying. I just hope that it will take a while until old Tom realizes that, too. If there's one thing we needn't fear, it is that he'll see the reason why I'm offering myself instead. He doesn't have an idea about the meaning of words like love, or concern. He doesn't know half what it is like to care about people, or even being cared for. He doesn't really feel any other emotion but rage, caused by his ever unsurpassable egoism."