FIC: "The Washerwoman" for emei
Happy witchwinter, emei!
Title: The Washerwoman
Author: ?
Recipient: emei
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this story.
Pairing: McGonagall/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count (if applicable): 2,200
Warnings: Discussion of character death.
Summary: Professor McGonagall tries to snap Hermione out of her blues by giving her chores.
Author's Notes: With thanks to my beta. Not what I started out writing, but I hope you enjoy it.
Minerva found herself drawn to the young Gryffindor from the first moment the girl stepped into the castle. She recognized so much of herself. A young girl hiding her vulnerabilities behind being the smartest.
And she was. The smartest witch of her age that any of them had ever seen.
As she grew up the girl's path diverged from Minerva's. The two boys she became friends with made her break out. Break rules. Break the mould and grow into a strong woman, capable of anything. And when the three friends determined to go off on their own to fight the war, Minerva wasn't worried. Ron had the heart, Harry the courage and Hermione the brain and Minerva always knew their strengths mingled and would keep them safe.
But when the heart dies, and courage fails and flees, all the brain can do is think. And over think. Over think her role in the war, over think her role in Ron's death and Harry's breakdown. She came back to Hogwart's; she had nowhere else to go. She wandered round the castle like a solid ghost, and Minverva saw no sign of her snapping out of it.
Finally, when snow hid the ground, Minerva decided she'd had enough.
"Miss Granger? Follow me."
They walked across the ice of the lake to the hole which was made for the squid. Where Hermione used to rush from one class to the next, now she moved at a snail's pace. Minerva's hand rested on the small of Hermione's back, trying to hasten the girl. When they reached the edge of the ice, she gave a good shove.
The splash sounded fresh and cool and Minerva hugged her cloak tighter around her. She watched Hermione's hair float in the water like seaweed. There wasn't even shock on her face; her expression didn't change at all as she sank, robes floating upwards.
With a shake of her head Minerva told the squid to leave the girl. She watched and waited. And waited. And wondered if she should send the squid after all. Then it happened. Her eyes widened and anger crossed her face. She began to kick upwards, the familiar determination etched in her eyes. A nod to the squid, and Hermione was lifted straight onto the ice, gasping for breath.
"What did you do that for?"
"To make sure you still wanted to live. Come along, it's time for you to start doing something around here."
Her lips quirked upwards as she wrapped her cloak around Hermione and led her away.
"I'm not ready to teach, Professor."
"No, you're not. I was thinking more along the lines of organizing my office. It is much as Professor Dumbledore left it, and while that was comforting at first, I can never find anything."
Hermione looked dumbfounded again.
"Start with the books. In alphabetical order if you please."
The girl turned around and walked out. Minerva smiled and finished her correspondence. She was walking quickly again.
Minerva still hadn't replaced the teachers that they had lost in the war, so she still had a full day of classes as well as Headmistress duties. When she at last finished with the staff meeting she returned to her office to do some marking and found the books that were piled on the floor and desk carefully put away, in alphabetical order according to author.
The next day Hermione walked into her office with her hair brushed for once.
"Your hair looks lovely today, Hermione. Unfortunately you'll be cleaning out those cupboards, so I doubt it will stay that way." She gestured towards the cupboards full of various magical instruments owned by past headmasters. "Everything needs to be dusted, and the shelves need a good scrub with soap and water. No magic, please. I don't know what everything does and I don't want your magic reacting adversely."
"Why don't the house elves do it?"
"Because they clean with magic and it will affect the items. And because I asked you to do it." She collected her books. "I'll be back around lunch.”
During first-year Transfigurations Minerva thought of Hermione up in her office, on her knees, scrubbing. How long would it be before the girl rebelled? How long would it be before she demanded something challenging? How many of those artifacts would she try to figure out?
At lunchtime she returned to her office and stood silently while watching the young body move with the strain of scrubbing. It may have been decades, perhaps centuries, since the cupboards were last cleaned properly. Perhaps since the last time there was a female in the office. Her desk was covered in bowls, statues, daggers and quills. A large globe sat on her chair.
"It's good to see you so enthusiastic, Miss Granger. But I'd like to have my space disrupted as little as possible. I'll work in the teacher's lounge today, but tomorrow I expect my desk to be kept clear. Is that understood?"
There was a spark of defiance in her eyes before the deadness returned. "Yes, Professor."
She was gone when Minerva got back to the office. One cupboard was clean and its contents were on a small coffee table that had not been there before.
Hermione worked diligently on the cupboards for the next few days and by the end of the week they were clean and in order and Hermione was actually showing up in the Great Hall to eat at meals. Minerva had to smile at the image she presented on Friday at dinner, dirt smudged across her face, her hair pulled back messily, sweaty strands hanging around her face. It gave Minerva the urge to wipe the smudges and brush the hair behind her ear.
As everyone stood to leave, Minerva called out to her. "Miss Granger. A word, if you please."
Minerva walked out the hall, confident the girl would follow her. When they reached her office, she turned. "Miss Granger, the students at this school look up to you. You're a war hero. So turning up to dinner looking like you're the washerwoman sets a bad example to all of them. If you are going to come to meals, please make sure you wash and change. Otherwise you can eat meals in your room."
The girl nodded silently and walked from the room. She didn't appear at meals, or in Minerva's office over the weekend.
On Monday morning Minerva had to go to class before Hermione arrived. She wondered if Hermione had given up again, but when she arrived at lunchtime she found that the curtains and upholstery in the room had been washed. She heard vague humming coming from behind the arm chair. She backed out again and closed the door.
On Tuesday there was a beautifully clean and organized office. Minerva even found new filing cabinets with students files organized and a lot of paperwork off her desk.
"I'm ready for something more challenging."
Minerva didn't even look up. "I need to know what those things do. You know the exploratory spells. I want everything catalogued - what it is and what it can do."
Hermione moved to the cupboards, paper in hand, and Minerva could finally allow herself a smile.
It was at the end of that day that she wondered if she'd pushed too hard. She could hear heart-rending sobs as the staircase wound upwards.
"Hermione?"
A pensieve sat on her desk, and Minerva knew it had held Dumbledore's memories. She had looked at some herself.
"Hermione? What did you see?"
"I killed him. And Harry." Her breath stuttered as she tried to control her breathing. "It's my fault that Ron's dead."
"It's Voldemort's fault that Ron's dead."
Hermione shook his head. "I told him that day that I didn't love him. Not the way he wanted me to. That I loved his sister." Minerva's eyes widened, but Hermione didn't notice. "He was too reckless that day. Too angry with me to pay attention. And without Ron, Harry just lost the will to go on."
Minerva sat on the floor next to Hermione and pulled her close, holding her for what seemed like hours until she cried herself out. They walked through the fireplace to Minerva's quarters and Hermione was tucked into bed. Minerva sat on an armchair, sipping tea and watching the sleeping girl, thinking about what she'd said about Ginny. Thinking about how hard it must have been for her to lose Ron, and then Ginny soon after.
She was gone when Minerva woke stiff-necked the next morning, but arrived in the Great Hall with clean robes and a neat braid. Minerva smiled at her, and Hermione grinned back, her face lighting up in a way that hadn't been seen in a while. Hermione trotted after her when she left.
"What can I do for you today, Professor?"
"I'm not sure I have anything." Hermione's face fell. "Perhaps you'd like a rest?"
"No, Professor."
"Then come along with me to class and you can grade first years' papers for me."
They walked to class and Minerva transfigured a small teacher's desk for her to the side of the classroom. She quietly graded first and second years' papers for the morning. In the afternoon Minerva gave her third year papers to grade, and the next morning Hermione moved on to the Charms work.
This went on for the next two weeks, and Minerva waited for her to grow bored and ask for more challenge. After all, this was the girl who needed a time-turner to get through her classes in third year. But Hermione kept being happy just marking and tidying.
Minerva began to observe her as she walked the halls. The deadness in Hermione's eyes stayed until she walked into view. Minerva caught her staring out the window of the Headmaster's office out over the Quidditch pitch. She watched as Hermione walked over the snow by the edge of the lake, with no scarf or cloak. It was time to shake her up again.
"Miss Granger?" she said after breakfast the next morning. "I need to go to London for a few days. I trust you'll be able to take over my Transfigurations class for a few days."
Hermione's face fell. "But, you might need me in London."
"I assure you I won't. Thank you, Hermione."
She walked away and resisted every urge to look back.
That Friday she stopped at the door to the Transfigurations classroom and watched Hermione move confidently between students, making sure that their pincushions didn't crawl away. She walked to her office and found the one chair that had been there exchanged for two comfy couches by the fire with a small table between them. The desk was moved to one side and the space seemed larger.
An empty cup of tea was on the table and a blanket was thrown over the couch.
"She's slept here every night you were gone."
"I don't want to hear it, Albus."
"There's nothing wrong with you having someone. I've seen the way you look at her."
"She's too young. I'm hardly what she needs."
"She needs someone to take care of her. Someone that will make her happy. Someone who she makes happy."
"I liked this office better when you were still being painted."
She didn't go to dinner that night, wanted to avoid seeing Hermione until she'd had a decent night's sleep. But when she arrived in her office Saturday morning she heard a soft snore accompanied by a mess of brown hair hanging over the arm of a chair.
"Hermione, you can't sleep her. Your back must be killing you."
"I like teaching." She rubbed her eyes as she yawned and Minerva felt her heart squeeze. "I like it a lot."
"I knew you would. I've been waiting for you to be ready."
"But you decided I was taking too long?"
Minerva didn't say anything. There didn't seem to be anything to say. Hermione took two steps, bringing her directly into Minerva's space, her slim body just millimeters away. Minerva didn't want to breathe; it would bring their chests together.
"You're taking too long, too." Hermione took a deep breath, and sure enough their breasts brushed against each other. The girl stood on her toes and pressed warm lips to Minerva's own thin ones. "But I'll wait."
Hermione took her blanket as she walked out the door.
"Go after her!"
Minerva took Albus' advice and hurried out the door. "Hermione!"
Hermione paused.
"I didn't want you to depend on me. I’m so much older."
"My best friend died at eighteen. I'm willing to take it one day at a time."
"But - "
She was silenced by Hermione's lips on her again, a tongue snaking between them, arms moving to hold her. She moved her own arms to caress the smooth skin of the girl's face. She tried to remember the last time she was kissed like this.
Hermione finally pulled back. "I changed my mind. I won't wait. If you want me to I'll leave. Hogwart's I mean."
Minerva stepped back. "Why don't you come in and tell me what your lesson plans are for the rest of the year, Miss Granger?"
She twined her fingers through Hermione's and they walked into her office.
Title: The Washerwoman
Author: ?
Recipient: emei
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this story.
Pairing: McGonagall/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count (if applicable): 2,200
Warnings: Discussion of character death.
Summary: Professor McGonagall tries to snap Hermione out of her blues by giving her chores.
Author's Notes: With thanks to my beta. Not what I started out writing, but I hope you enjoy it.
Minerva found herself drawn to the young Gryffindor from the first moment the girl stepped into the castle. She recognized so much of herself. A young girl hiding her vulnerabilities behind being the smartest.
And she was. The smartest witch of her age that any of them had ever seen.
As she grew up the girl's path diverged from Minerva's. The two boys she became friends with made her break out. Break rules. Break the mould and grow into a strong woman, capable of anything. And when the three friends determined to go off on their own to fight the war, Minerva wasn't worried. Ron had the heart, Harry the courage and Hermione the brain and Minerva always knew their strengths mingled and would keep them safe.
But when the heart dies, and courage fails and flees, all the brain can do is think. And over think. Over think her role in the war, over think her role in Ron's death and Harry's breakdown. She came back to Hogwart's; she had nowhere else to go. She wandered round the castle like a solid ghost, and Minverva saw no sign of her snapping out of it.
Finally, when snow hid the ground, Minerva decided she'd had enough.
"Miss Granger? Follow me."
They walked across the ice of the lake to the hole which was made for the squid. Where Hermione used to rush from one class to the next, now she moved at a snail's pace. Minerva's hand rested on the small of Hermione's back, trying to hasten the girl. When they reached the edge of the ice, she gave a good shove.
The splash sounded fresh and cool and Minerva hugged her cloak tighter around her. She watched Hermione's hair float in the water like seaweed. There wasn't even shock on her face; her expression didn't change at all as she sank, robes floating upwards.
With a shake of her head Minerva told the squid to leave the girl. She watched and waited. And waited. And wondered if she should send the squid after all. Then it happened. Her eyes widened and anger crossed her face. She began to kick upwards, the familiar determination etched in her eyes. A nod to the squid, and Hermione was lifted straight onto the ice, gasping for breath.
"What did you do that for?"
"To make sure you still wanted to live. Come along, it's time for you to start doing something around here."
Her lips quirked upwards as she wrapped her cloak around Hermione and led her away.
"I'm not ready to teach, Professor."
"No, you're not. I was thinking more along the lines of organizing my office. It is much as Professor Dumbledore left it, and while that was comforting at first, I can never find anything."
Hermione looked dumbfounded again.
"Start with the books. In alphabetical order if you please."
The girl turned around and walked out. Minerva smiled and finished her correspondence. She was walking quickly again.
Minerva still hadn't replaced the teachers that they had lost in the war, so she still had a full day of classes as well as Headmistress duties. When she at last finished with the staff meeting she returned to her office to do some marking and found the books that were piled on the floor and desk carefully put away, in alphabetical order according to author.
The next day Hermione walked into her office with her hair brushed for once.
"Your hair looks lovely today, Hermione. Unfortunately you'll be cleaning out those cupboards, so I doubt it will stay that way." She gestured towards the cupboards full of various magical instruments owned by past headmasters. "Everything needs to be dusted, and the shelves need a good scrub with soap and water. No magic, please. I don't know what everything does and I don't want your magic reacting adversely."
"Why don't the house elves do it?"
"Because they clean with magic and it will affect the items. And because I asked you to do it." She collected her books. "I'll be back around lunch.”
During first-year Transfigurations Minerva thought of Hermione up in her office, on her knees, scrubbing. How long would it be before the girl rebelled? How long would it be before she demanded something challenging? How many of those artifacts would she try to figure out?
At lunchtime she returned to her office and stood silently while watching the young body move with the strain of scrubbing. It may have been decades, perhaps centuries, since the cupboards were last cleaned properly. Perhaps since the last time there was a female in the office. Her desk was covered in bowls, statues, daggers and quills. A large globe sat on her chair.
"It's good to see you so enthusiastic, Miss Granger. But I'd like to have my space disrupted as little as possible. I'll work in the teacher's lounge today, but tomorrow I expect my desk to be kept clear. Is that understood?"
There was a spark of defiance in her eyes before the deadness returned. "Yes, Professor."
She was gone when Minerva got back to the office. One cupboard was clean and its contents were on a small coffee table that had not been there before.
Hermione worked diligently on the cupboards for the next few days and by the end of the week they were clean and in order and Hermione was actually showing up in the Great Hall to eat at meals. Minerva had to smile at the image she presented on Friday at dinner, dirt smudged across her face, her hair pulled back messily, sweaty strands hanging around her face. It gave Minerva the urge to wipe the smudges and brush the hair behind her ear.
As everyone stood to leave, Minerva called out to her. "Miss Granger. A word, if you please."
Minerva walked out the hall, confident the girl would follow her. When they reached her office, she turned. "Miss Granger, the students at this school look up to you. You're a war hero. So turning up to dinner looking like you're the washerwoman sets a bad example to all of them. If you are going to come to meals, please make sure you wash and change. Otherwise you can eat meals in your room."
The girl nodded silently and walked from the room. She didn't appear at meals, or in Minerva's office over the weekend.
On Monday morning Minerva had to go to class before Hermione arrived. She wondered if Hermione had given up again, but when she arrived at lunchtime she found that the curtains and upholstery in the room had been washed. She heard vague humming coming from behind the arm chair. She backed out again and closed the door.
On Tuesday there was a beautifully clean and organized office. Minerva even found new filing cabinets with students files organized and a lot of paperwork off her desk.
"I'm ready for something more challenging."
Minerva didn't even look up. "I need to know what those things do. You know the exploratory spells. I want everything catalogued - what it is and what it can do."
Hermione moved to the cupboards, paper in hand, and Minerva could finally allow herself a smile.
It was at the end of that day that she wondered if she'd pushed too hard. She could hear heart-rending sobs as the staircase wound upwards.
"Hermione?"
A pensieve sat on her desk, and Minerva knew it had held Dumbledore's memories. She had looked at some herself.
"Hermione? What did you see?"
"I killed him. And Harry." Her breath stuttered as she tried to control her breathing. "It's my fault that Ron's dead."
"It's Voldemort's fault that Ron's dead."
Hermione shook his head. "I told him that day that I didn't love him. Not the way he wanted me to. That I loved his sister." Minerva's eyes widened, but Hermione didn't notice. "He was too reckless that day. Too angry with me to pay attention. And without Ron, Harry just lost the will to go on."
Minerva sat on the floor next to Hermione and pulled her close, holding her for what seemed like hours until she cried herself out. They walked through the fireplace to Minerva's quarters and Hermione was tucked into bed. Minerva sat on an armchair, sipping tea and watching the sleeping girl, thinking about what she'd said about Ginny. Thinking about how hard it must have been for her to lose Ron, and then Ginny soon after.
She was gone when Minerva woke stiff-necked the next morning, but arrived in the Great Hall with clean robes and a neat braid. Minerva smiled at her, and Hermione grinned back, her face lighting up in a way that hadn't been seen in a while. Hermione trotted after her when she left.
"What can I do for you today, Professor?"
"I'm not sure I have anything." Hermione's face fell. "Perhaps you'd like a rest?"
"No, Professor."
"Then come along with me to class and you can grade first years' papers for me."
They walked to class and Minerva transfigured a small teacher's desk for her to the side of the classroom. She quietly graded first and second years' papers for the morning. In the afternoon Minerva gave her third year papers to grade, and the next morning Hermione moved on to the Charms work.
This went on for the next two weeks, and Minerva waited for her to grow bored and ask for more challenge. After all, this was the girl who needed a time-turner to get through her classes in third year. But Hermione kept being happy just marking and tidying.
Minerva began to observe her as she walked the halls. The deadness in Hermione's eyes stayed until she walked into view. Minerva caught her staring out the window of the Headmaster's office out over the Quidditch pitch. She watched as Hermione walked over the snow by the edge of the lake, with no scarf or cloak. It was time to shake her up again.
"Miss Granger?" she said after breakfast the next morning. "I need to go to London for a few days. I trust you'll be able to take over my Transfigurations class for a few days."
Hermione's face fell. "But, you might need me in London."
"I assure you I won't. Thank you, Hermione."
She walked away and resisted every urge to look back.
That Friday she stopped at the door to the Transfigurations classroom and watched Hermione move confidently between students, making sure that their pincushions didn't crawl away. She walked to her office and found the one chair that had been there exchanged for two comfy couches by the fire with a small table between them. The desk was moved to one side and the space seemed larger.
An empty cup of tea was on the table and a blanket was thrown over the couch.
"She's slept here every night you were gone."
"I don't want to hear it, Albus."
"There's nothing wrong with you having someone. I've seen the way you look at her."
"She's too young. I'm hardly what she needs."
"She needs someone to take care of her. Someone that will make her happy. Someone who she makes happy."
"I liked this office better when you were still being painted."
She didn't go to dinner that night, wanted to avoid seeing Hermione until she'd had a decent night's sleep. But when she arrived in her office Saturday morning she heard a soft snore accompanied by a mess of brown hair hanging over the arm of a chair.
"Hermione, you can't sleep her. Your back must be killing you."
"I like teaching." She rubbed her eyes as she yawned and Minerva felt her heart squeeze. "I like it a lot."
"I knew you would. I've been waiting for you to be ready."
"But you decided I was taking too long?"
Minerva didn't say anything. There didn't seem to be anything to say. Hermione took two steps, bringing her directly into Minerva's space, her slim body just millimeters away. Minerva didn't want to breathe; it would bring their chests together.
"You're taking too long, too." Hermione took a deep breath, and sure enough their breasts brushed against each other. The girl stood on her toes and pressed warm lips to Minerva's own thin ones. "But I'll wait."
Hermione took her blanket as she walked out the door.
"Go after her!"
Minerva took Albus' advice and hurried out the door. "Hermione!"
Hermione paused.
"I didn't want you to depend on me. I’m so much older."
"My best friend died at eighteen. I'm willing to take it one day at a time."
"But - "
She was silenced by Hermione's lips on her again, a tongue snaking between them, arms moving to hold her. She moved her own arms to caress the smooth skin of the girl's face. She tried to remember the last time she was kissed like this.
Hermione finally pulled back. "I changed my mind. I won't wait. If you want me to I'll leave. Hogwart's I mean."
Minerva stepped back. "Why don't you come in and tell me what your lesson plans are for the rest of the year, Miss Granger?"
She twined her fingers through Hermione's and they walked into her office.