Chapter 2
Hermione walked into the Great Hall and felt her eyes well up. It was in shambles. This room where she had taken meals for so many years, forged friendships, received life-changing news—it was mostly destroyed. She felt a comforting hand pat her back and looked over to Harry.
"I feel the same way, Hermione," he muttered, his eyes dark with grief. She nodded and forced herself to walk toward the front of the hall where a group of about thirty individuals sat at tables with bowls of food and pitchers of drink splayed about them. Elves apparated and disapparated in and out of the room constantly, the ebb and flow of several conversations soothing Hermione's frayed nerves.
Reaching the tables, Hermione took a seat as Harry sat across from her. Hermione smiled and nodded when several people wished them good morning. She reached forward to fill her plate with some toast and eggs, suddenly realizing that she was quite hungry. Unlike during the school year, professors, students, and volunteers all sat together. Memories of last night caused a frisson of energy to race down Hermione's spine as her eyes swept the area, searching for Professor McGonagall. Her eyes found penetrating green ones focused on her. Hermione smiled automatically and nodded in greeting. She barely held back a gasp when she received a beautiful smile in return. They continued to gaze at each other until Harry's voice intruded on the moment.
"What?" Hermione said in a daze, ripping her eyes away reluctantly. "Did you say something?" she asked.
"I said do you want some pumpkin juice?" Harry repeated patiently, holding up a full pitcher.
"Oh. Yes, please." Hermione blushed, feeling caught out. It was just, there was a look in the Professor's eyes that had captivated her. She couldn't figure it out. It seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite remember ever seeing that emotion directed at her before—not from the normally composed older woman. Usually Professor McGonagall's emotions were well-hidden behind a bland expression. Hermione had only seen her react emotionally a few times while she had attended Hogwarts, during times of extreme stress.
Whatever she had seen in Professor McGonagall's eyes, she found it exhilarating and unsettling. Hermione wanted to understand what that look meant. She wanted to understand why her body felt wired and hot.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked as he placed a hand over hers. Startled, she pulled away. Seeing his frown, she smiled apologetically.
"Yes. Just a bit out of sorts, I suppose." Hermione scooped up some eggs from her plate and shoved the fork into her mouth. After so many months struggling to find shelter and food, the breakfast tasted heavenly. She moaned her approval and shared a grin with Harry, who was also obviously enjoying the food. She did not hesitate to reload her plate, knowing they had a long day ahead of them and many more, judging by the state of the Great Hall, the Entrance Hall, the Grand Staircase and the Viaduct Courtyard. And that was just after a quick look. She knew the castle had suffered extensive damage.
Hearing conversations becoming louder, Hermione looked around just as Harry commented, "Looks like the Weasleys are here."
Hermione watched Harry rise to greet them, taking a moment to hug Ginny and pat Ron on the shoulder. Hermione reluctantly rose and kissed Ron's parents on their cheeks before turning to Ron, dread washing over her.
Ron leaned in for a kiss on the lips, a look of confusion covering his face as Hermione quickly dodged his obvious intent by turning her head. His kiss landed near her ear. She gave him a brief hug and stepped away.
"Wha—Hermione…" Ron huffed as he stepped forward. "Why didn't you stay with us last night? And what was that? What's going on?"
Anger and bewilderment were clearly conveyed in his voice, but Hermione did not want to have this conversation—not now, not here. "Let's talk about this later, Ron," Hermione said in a low voice.
"Why? Am I supposed to wait all day or until you feel the time is right to answer my questions? I have a right to know. Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron's said in a louder voice, "we nearly died yesterday! Fred did. Or did you forget? Are you hiding out here—is that it? Answer me!" He grabbed her bicep and pulled her forward, Hermione slamming into his body as she fought to keep her balance.
"Hey, mate. Calm down," Harry said as he steadied Hermione and inserted himself between them, breaking Ron's hold. "She doesn't want to talk right now." He lowered his voice and said evenly, "People are starting to stare, Ron. Stop making a scene."
"What do I care?" Ron exploded. "What, am I ruining the image of the Golden Trio? Sod off, mate." Ron reached in to grab at Hermione again, but she turned away and began to walk toward the entrance of the hall, wanting to place distance between them. Harry kept pace with her.
"Where do you think you're going? Hey! I want an answer! Oh, I get it. All that bollocks about you two just being friends. But you're more, aren't you? Aren't you?!" Ron yelled. Hermione and Harry both stopped walking.
Turning slowly, Hermione tried to control her emotions. Her body was shaking with rage. How dare he make a scene in front of all these people. How dare he accuse her of being with Harry, of going behind Ron's back, of betraying him. How dare he act like an immature boy indulging in a tantrum.
"I would never lie to you. You have no right to make these demands. Where are your eyes, Ron? Harry is in love with your sister. You know this! He is my best friend. And I thought you were, too." Hermione shook her head, disgusted.
"Best friend? I thought I was more. Hermione, I love you, and I don't care who knows it." He spread his hands out wide.
Everyone had stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped all motion while Ron forced the issue. "Don't you love me?"
"Of course I do—"
"Then why are you sleeping here? Why aren't you with me?"
Hearing the hurt in his voice, the aggravation, Hermione tried to rein in her anger, but she was mortified by this display. "Ron, get this straight. I will never sleep with you. I do not love you in that way. You are my friend, but that's all it will ever be. I'm sorry, Ron. I really am."
"Wha—. What are saying?" Ron said.
"We are not going to be together, Ron. Not in that way." Hermione knew her face was stained red from embarrassment and anger. She was trying to be patient, trying to be kind, but he wasn't making it easy.
"That's rubbish. You kissed me!"
"Stop being a daft fool!" Hermione exploded as she strode toward him, hands balled into fists. "You just had to have this conversation now, didn't you? Didn't you?! You couldn't wait. Well, here's your answer." She stopped in front of him. "The kiss happened. It was pleasant. But we could never make a relationship work. We are too different. I know it hurts to hear this, Ron, but it's still the truth." She stared at him, and her anger ebbed when she saw his defeated expression. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please," she entreated. "Let's discuss this later."
He shook his head as he looked at the ground. "What's there to talk about?" He looked up, his eyes devoid of emotion. "Great timing, Hermione. My brother dies, and you tell me you just want to be friends."
"You did not just play the death card!" Hermione roared. "Come on! Do you really want me to be with you out of pity? Don't you deserve better, Ron? Someone who wants to be by your side and who shares your interests?"
"I thought that was you!" Ron shouted.
"I'm sorry, but it's not. I want to be your friend, and once you think about it, really think about it, you'll realize this is for the best." Hermione looked at Harry. "I have to go. I'll catch up with you later." She walked out of the hall, feeling the weight of countless eyes on her.
She felt humiliated. In front of all those people! In front of her former professors. In front of her. Angry tears stained her face as she left the castle and walked toward the Black Lake. She picked through strewn rocks and debris haphazardly, just wanting to get away. Finally, she came to a stop not far from the water's edge and lowered herself onto a nearby boulder. Tears still rolled down her face as she replayed what had occurred in the hall.
It was all so unfair! If he had just waited to talk to her, they could have worked it out, she was sure. Instead he had pushed the issue, like he always did, and now she was unsure that their friendship was even salvageable. So immature! That was one of the main reasons it would never work. It wouldn't. She knew that! So, why was she so upset? So angry? So hurt?
Feeling watched, Hermione looked around and saw a cat—silver with black markings. She wiped her face with her hands, keeping her palms over her eyes for a moment while she tried to find her equilibrium. Gentle arms wrapped around her and held her tightly. She felt something loosen within her and began to sob. Distantly she heard a soothing voice telling her it would be all right, that things would get better. She felt a hand cradling her head into a strong shoulder as the other hand drew small circles over her back. She burrowed into the swanlike neck and drew in great breaths as she lowered her hands to rest on shapely hips, hidden under thick black robes.
Feeling infinitely better, Hermione breathed in the soothing scent of vanilla and something spicy—ginger?—before pulling back a bit to look into concerned emerald eyes. "I fear you will get the wrong idea about me, Professor. I am not normally so weepy," Hermione said softly.
A gentle smile and warm eyes soothed Hermione's frazzled nerves. "No, I suppose not. You have always presented yourself as a courageous, strong woman. And these tears," Hermione felt long fingers touching her cheek gently, "have not changed my opinion of you in any negative way. In fact, if anything, they have raised my opinion of you, something I did not believe possible since I hold you in the greatest esteem. They show that you are a woman of great passion, great depth of feeling. You have suffered greatly, Hermione. It is only natural for you to cry now that the danger has passed."
Overwhelmed by these startling words, Hermione was unsure how to reply. "Thank you, Professor," she said shyly.
"Minerva," she corrected softly. "I think you've earned the right. You are no longer my student, and I could never think of you as anything less than an equal. What you have done, how you helped Harry to defeat Voldemort—you are a formidable woman, Hermione. I am honored to have played some small part in guiding you with your studies. The N.E.W.T.s, I am sure, will prove to be merely a formality, as your life experiences have taught you more than this school ever could. Some hard lessons, too, unfortunately."
"Yes. Some hard lessons, too," Hermione agreed with a sigh. "I am sorry for running out like that. I just needed a few moments." Sniffling, she smiled when Minerva handed her a handkerchief. It had a green monogram of a double M on one corner. "Thank you." Self-consciously, she turned her head and blew her nose.
"Sometimes a strategic retreat is wise. You needed time to regroup, and Mr. Weasley needed time to compose himself as well." Minerva's clasped her long fingers on her lap as she talked.
Hermione grimaced at the scene that had played out in front of everyone. "I am sorry for that display."
"You have no reason to apologize, Hermione." A look of disapproval firmly on her face. "He should not have forced the subject. Don't worry. No one thinks less of you. In fact, Molly delivered a few choice words to him after your departure." Her lips formed a grim line. "Mr. Potter had been ready to follow you, but I asked to talk to you. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all. It seems you have a natural ability for comforting me." Hermione chuckled, feeling self-conscious. She gazed across the lake, afraid to look at Minerva. She realized just how closely they were sitting, how much she enjoyed this woman's company, how strong those arms actually felt, and how green those all-seeing eyes were.
"Hermione," Minerva whispered as two long fingers under Hermione's chin turned her face back toward the older woman. Their eyes locked for long moments, and Hermione again saw that indescribable emotion swimming in penetrating eyes. "I am so sorry for all that you have suffered. I wish I could have protected you, helped you. I was worried about you." Her words trailed off as she continued to stare at Hermione.
Hermione could see the obvious struggle Minerva was experiencing. It made her heart beat faster, as did the feeling of those fingers still resting under her chin, warm breath fanning over her face, and eyes stained with emotion.
"I missed you," Hermione said suddenly. "Most of the time we were either fighting for our lives, trying to figure out where to go, or hiding. And I thought about you constantly. I resented being away, and I was ashamed for feeling that way when there was so much at stake."
"Now you listen to me, Hermione Granger." Hermione was pinned by the stern gaze and serious words. "Don't ever feel ashamed for wishing you were somewhere safe and loved, for wanting to be with people who care about your well-being. You were on your own in precarious circumstances for a long time. It is natural to not want to be in that situation. You missed Hogwarts and the simplicity of learning and excelling. And yet even with all that, you succeeded in not only surviving but in completing your quest. You kept going even when it seemed you were facing insurmountable odds. And you were tortured…"
Hermione was shocked by the sorrow that crossed Minerva's face, the crack in her voice as she trailed off. "It's all right," Hermione tried.
"It's not all right! It is anything but all right! Who did this to you?" Minerva demanded as she moved her hands to hold Hermione's left forearm gently, pulling up the shirt sleeve slowly. Hermione watched as tears flooded the older witch's eyes, tracking down her face.
"Bellatrix. We were caught and brought to Malfoy Manor. She separated me from the rest and tortured me, trying to gain information. I made up a false story, but before she had finished with me she had used the Cruciatus curse on me several times and then, that. Shortly after she finished, I lost consciousness." Hermione shook her head as her tears began again. "Who could ever love me with that on my arm?" She swiped at her tears angrily. "No one knows. Only you," she whispered brokenly. She was pulled into another hug, and this time they both wept.
"Oh, Hermione," Minerva murmured. "You are loved. No scar will ever deter a true heart from its course." She chuckled mirthlessly. "If I'd known, I would have killed her myself."
Hermione swallowed her shock and held the older witch tightly. As their weeping abated, Hermione pulled back slightly to look into watery eyes. "And I didn't miss Hogwarts, Minerva. I missed you." Hermione smiled slightly at the shocked expression she saw. She took a deep breath and expelled it loudly. "Now, I don't think I have cried so much in years. I truly hope this will not become a permanent part of our every interaction," Hermione joked, trying to instill some levity to lighten the moment. She gently wiped away some stray tears on the elder witch's face. "We should get back."
"Yes," Minerva agreed. Hermione watched as Professor McGonagall took over, no trace of Minerva left. Well, not quite. She could still see the woman behind the mask, but not many would be able to. They rose as one, and Hermione watched as the older woman straightened her robes. "Shall we?" Minerva asked, gesturing in front of her. With a slight smile, Hermione began walking.
They strolled in silence for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts. "Would you care to come by for tea tonight? We can review what N.E.W.T.s you plan to take and create an outline of the material you will need to know," Minerva said.
Looking over, Hermione saw eyes softening as theirs connected. She nodded. "I'd love to." Internally she winced at how throaty her response had sounded and hoped that the older woman had not noticed.
"Good. Will eight o'clock suit you?"
"Yes." Hermione stared straight ahead, afraid she had already revealed too much. She just felt so raw. Her emotions were close to the surface, and she didn't know what to make of all these strong feelings she was experiencing for the woman walking next to her.
A hand on her shoulder stopped her. "I look forward to it," Minerva said in a low voice. She squeezed Hermione's shoulder and walked into the castle as Hermione watched. Smiling, Hermione shook her head.
She couldn't deny that she felt better. Much better.