Pins and Needles

Chapter 6: Family Matters

It was the middle of the night, when Hermione came down the big main staircase of the manor. It was not the first time she had been having trouble sleeping since moving in, but it was the first time she felt at home enough to go wandering about in the middle of the night. She was heading towards the library, clad in her sleepwear only – knee length cotton shorts, a loose shirt and no shoes. When she got near the big wooden door, she noticed a stream of light seeping out from under it. It seemed she was not the only one who was awake at this ungodly hour. She hesitated for a moment, then cracked the door open just wide enough to enable herself to stick her head inside.

Minerva was sitting on the chesterfield in front of the fireplace. She had dropped the book she had been reading to look towards the door and at Hermione, who smiled timidly and asked, "May I?"

"There is no need to ask," Minerva answered while patting the seat next to her. Unlike Hermione, she had had the good sense of putting on a dressing gown. Hermione sat down and instantly pulled up her legs to put her arms around them in an effort to battle the coolness she was already starting to feel, when a soft tartan blanket materialised on the backrest behind her. Smiling gratefully at the woman next to her she pulled it around herself and relaxed into the cushions.

"Nightmares?" Minerva asked softly while putting away her book onto the coffee table. The fact that Hermione had not reacted with instant curiosity to what appeared to be the conjuration of a solid object out of nowhere – an impossible feat – told her all she needed to know about the younger woman's state of mind.

Hermione let out a sigh before answering, "Sometimes. Mostly, it's the fear of nightmares that's keeping me awake."

"I can relate," Minerva said. When Hermione turned to look at her, she elaborated, "I have been through this before. Now it's just a case of senile insomnia."

"You're not old," Hermione mumbled in protest while letting her head sink against the backrest once more.

Minerva chuckled. "My circadian rhythm disagrees."

They sat like that for a few minutes, neither one feeling the need to speak simply to fill the silence. Staring at the McGonagall coat of arms, Hermione's thoughts wandered back to her afternoon's reading. Unsurprisingly, her mentor's information had proven to be both correct and comprehensive. Her own research had merely brought up an abundance of unsavoury historical details as well as an elaborate timeline of the legal practice concerning the spells, but no truly relevant additional information. She spoke up quietly, without turning to look at Minerva or giving any kind of preamble, "It would make me part of your family. I cannot ask this of you."

"You are not asking, I am offering," Minerva said in an equally quiet voice. "As the only surviving member of my house, the choice to do so is mine alone. And nothing would make me prouder than being able to call you family."

Hermione kept staring at the seal for a while, then shoved her left arm out of the blanket and removed the charm hiding the mark. "I've tried owning it, you know. I mean, it's not untrue. Just crude. It shouldn't have any kind of power over me. But it's not working. Every time I see it, I feel nauseous. Like I am back there and it's happening all over again." She renewed the charm and pulled her arm back under the blanket. "I hate it so much."

"Then let me." Minerva reached out and gently turned Hermione's head so she could look at her. "Please."

Hermione did not answer, her eyes darting back and forth between Minerva and the crest several times before coming to rest on a number of photographs that were put up on the fireplace mantel below. "Is this your family?"

"Yes." Minerva rose and went over to the fireplace, motioning for Hermione to follow her. When they had reached their destination she started pointing them out, one by one, while talking. "Those are my parents, Robert and Isobel." Their photograph was posed at the centre. "They were very strict, but also unquestionably loving and more supportive of our choices in life than most parents in a time where children were mostly expected to do their elders' bidding." She continued at the far left. "My brothers, Malcolm and Robert, and me on the day we first went to Hogwarts together. As you can see, I am the oldest. I was in my sixth year then, Malcolm in his third and Robert was only just starting out. Gryffindors, all of us. And all part of the respective Quidditch teams as well." The pride she felt at this was evident in her broad smile. "This is me, at the time I started teaching at Hogwarts. Malcolm and his wife, Amelia, with their baby daughter, Anabelle. They were all killed by death eaters three years later. This is Robert after completing auror training. He died a few months after the First Wizarding War in an accident involving friendly fire while hunting some of the death eaters that were still at large."

There was one more photograph at the far right showing Minerva and some other woman, but Minerva had turned back to the sofa already, so Hermione followed her. She was well aware that she had already been privy to a lot of insight that the older woman was not prone to sharing easily.

When they had settled down again, Minerva said, "They would have been happy to have you."

Hermione looked doubtful. "Are you sure? A muggle-born?"

Minerva let out a pained sigh. "You should not even be asking this. I hate them so much for doing that to you. Amelia was muggle-born as well. Which is what made them targets in the first place. I can only hope you will believe me when I say that I am neither old fashioned nor arrogant enough to believe you should jump at the opportunity. But if that really is what is worrying you, then please stop. Because you could not be further off the mark."

Despite the unequivocal statement, Hermione still felt the need to voice a question burning inside of her. "Have you ever been tempted? By theories proclaiming wizard supremacy?"

"Never." Minerva did nothing to hide her disgust.

"I'm sorry." Hermione felt awful. "It was a stupid thing to ask."

Shaking her head, Minerva disagreed. "Not at all. You would be surprised at some people's answer to that question."

"As in Dumbledore?" Hermione ventured.

Minerva silently looked at her for several seconds before answering, "That is not my story to tell. I should also add that it would hardly be appropriate for me to take full credit for my stance on the issue. People like Andromeda or Sirius are the ones that deserve to be applauded. For standing up to their family. I grew up surrounded by people who called those theories 'utter nonsense'. Well, my parents did." She grinned. "Malcolm and Robert preferred the term 'bloody bullshit'." She did her best to impersonate a male speaker, also bringing out a thick Scottish accent.

Hermione had to laugh at the effect. "I like them."

Minerva's grin widened. "You would have. And they you."

Once more, Hermione let her eyes wander from Minerva to the crest, the photographs, and back again. Finally, she nodded - hesitantly at first, then more vigorously. "Would you?"

Minerva beamed. "I would be more than happy to."

Already feeling giddy at the prospect, Hermione asked, "Can you do it right now?"

Minerva hesitated. "Probably. But I would prefer to get a few hours of sleep first. Just to be on the safe side?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course." She let her head sink onto the backrest again.

After a few more moments of silence, Minerva softly spoke up again, "I am not going to pry. But I will always be there to listen if you want to talk about this," she pointed at Hermione's arm, "or anything else that happened."

At this, a single tear escaped from one of Hermione's eyes and made its way down her cheek. The young woman closed her eyes for a few moments to battle away more tears before answering, "Thank you." She turned to look at Minerva. "For both. And everything else as well."

Soon, Hermione's eyes drifted closed again. She was exhausted. She could feel sleep setting in, but did not move. True, her bed would be more comfortable, but she simply did not feel up to facing the loneliness again. Falling asleep right here was infinitely more appealing.

"Hermione ..." She was drawn back towards consciousness by Minerva's gentle but insistent voice. "Hermione …," once again, a little louder this time.

Reluctantly, Hermione opened her eyes again to look at Minerva.

"Your neck is going to kill you in the morning if you fall asleep like that," Minerva said, motioning towards the door.

Hermione barely managed to restrain herself from screaming at her in frustration. She did not give a rat's ass about her neck. She just wanted to stay here. With her. And get some sleep. But apparently that was not an option.

Sighing, she started to get up, only to stop short when she realised that Minerva had not, in fact, been motioning towards the door, but towards a bed that occupied the space where an armchair had very recently been standing. Astounded, she looked at the other woman, feeling her eyes watering up again. Minerva gently squeezed her hand and said, "Get some rest. I am not going anywhere."

Hermione was all too glad to oblige. Snuggling into the cozy duvet, she barely managed to murmur, "Good night, Minerva," before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

"Good night, darling," Minerva replied, fully aware that she was not being heard.