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Walk Me Home

Chapter Text

Sooooooo this was supposed to be a longer fic, however due to the fact that the first 5 chapters have taken place over the course of about 3 hours I am looking at this being the finally chapter. I will be adding more instalments to the fic. This will be the “Hurts 2B Human” series, as this fic was inspired by Walk Me Home by P!nk, the next instalment will be Can We Pretend.

I love having a beta, have no idea how I did this before without one. Thank you Lib McGranger for reading through these and fixing my many many many mistakes.

And with that here we go with the last chapter of this, for now. Reviews are always appreciated and keep your eyes out for the next instalment.

As Minerva crossed the threshold she was taken aback by what she could see. There was no sign that the young woman had ventured to the upper level of the house for the few weeks she had been in the property. There was a thick layer of dust covering the wooden staircase, and on the empty picture frames that lines the halls. Hermione had obviously removed any sign of who lived here before she went on the run the previous year. The woman with the death grip still on her hand seemed to be more of a shell than that of the house around them. 

“You have not been doing well here my dear,” Minerva asked, squeezing the fingers interlaced with her own. “I really am sorry I haven’t been here for you.”

“I don’t expect anyone to be there for me.” The young woman’s head hadn’t lifted upon entering the house. “I know I am nothing in this world and the pain I am living through is deserved on every level.” 

Hermione shuffled her feet slightly in her awkwardness, the older woman not wanting to push anything with her young companion held her hand and waited for the other to take the lead. She was in her domain and not wanting to scare her back into her shell. Patience in this instance was a virtue Minerva was more than willing to exercise. 

“Shall we go sit through there?” The young woman pointed towards the living room. “Please ignore the mess.” 

“I see nothing of the sort, young lady. Please lead the way.” Minerva extracted her hand and gently  pushed the young woman forward.

Hermione was tossing bottles from the sofa, and trying to clear the detritus of weeks to create a path and a seat for her mentor and friend. “Take a seat, I would offer you a drink, but I have run out of the good stuff and there is no milk for tea.” A hollow laugh filled the room, “in fact there is no tea, or running water or heat in the house for that matter.” 

“Not a problem. Would you mind terribly if I called an elf from my home to bring us some strong hot coffee?” 

“Coffee,” the young woman’s eyes grew slightly wide and stared straight into the elder witches. “I have never seen you as a coffee drinker.” 

“Well it is quite late or very early depending on how you look at it and I believe a brief discussion may be on the table.” Minerva raised an eyebrow. 

“If we must, but I am not too fond of coffee. As you are well aware. Coffee before my Defence Against the Dark Arts Owl was probably not the best thing and most likely the cause of my failure to gain an Outstanding.” 

“Now there is the dry wit of the young woman I know.” Minerva retorted and snapped her fingers sharply. A small ‘crack’ and a small house elf appeared. 

“How may I help the mistress?” the elf bowed deeply and turned to see Hermione on the other side of the sofa. “And the little Miss, how may I helps?

“Hermione this is Triky, she has been with my family for many many years.” She turned to the elf. “This is Hermione Granger, can you please bring us some of my family blend coffee brewed in a self warming cafetiere?”

“Yes Mistress.” Another crack and the elf was gone. 

“Hermione, you can not keep on living like this, there has to be an answer to your pain.” 

“I would give anything just to be able to sleep for longer than 20 minutes without being woken by the battle cries and deathly shrieks. I can’t get away from them. I need help, I know I need help and I don’t know where to turn.” Tears were flowing again from the young woman’s eyes. 

“I am here for you and more than willing to help you.” Minerva scooted closer to the now sobbing woman. “When you were a child did you ever have nightmares?” the young woman nodded through her sobs. “Then if I may ask how did you get through those times?”

Silently Minerva leant across the table to the just materialised tray, poured the young woman a coffee and placed it in a tentative hand. “Take a sip you will feel better.” The sceptical look that passed over her features caused a smile to spread across the elder witches lips. “You have always trusted me dear, please don’t stop now.” She lifted her own cup to her lips and took a long gulp. 

Hermione followed suit and to her chagrin the hot liquid passing down her throat made her feel slightly less anxious and more inclined to speak. “I don’t know why I doubted you.” The first truly honest smile lit up the dimly lit room. “I used to have a cat, when I was a child. When I would wake up in the night she would jump on my chest and purr.  It always used to make every fear leave and I could drift off to sleep.” The young witch confessed. 

“The purr of a cat is well known to provide soothing and even in some cases healing properties.” Minerva replied. “In fact I have seen it in action on a few occasions.” 

A tranquil silence passed over the pair, both content to just be in the company of the other. After around ten minutes the cups were drained and Minerva could see the young woman’s eye drifting closed. “Right young lady” she stood suddenly causing Hermione to drop her cup on the floor with a clatter. “It is time you got some rest.” She gently manoeuvred the young woman to lay down on the sofa. “Do not argue. Remember you said you trusted me.” She forestalled the protest rising in the young woman. “We shall talk more tomorrow,” conjuring a thick tartan blanket she laid it over the woman drifting off to sleep. “Now sleep well, I will not leave your side.” 

Hermione’s slipped eyelids were fully closed, Minerva looked down on her slumbering figure. As the first vestiges of the perpetual nightmare began to form in the young woman’s mind, her subconscious felt the small thud of 4 paws land on her chest and as her fingers came up to stroke through the smooth hair, a gentle purr began to emanate from Minerva McGonagall and she curled up on the young woman’s chest ready to have the first good night’s sleep she would have in 3 weeks. They would be okay, they would get through this.