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McGonagall had been lecturing about Transfiguration for a while now, but Hermione Granger who usually sat front and center scribbling notes of every word said with her parchment untouched, looking out the window something weighing on her.
“Miss Granger,” the older witch’s voice cut the silence of wherever Hermione’s head had been.
Hermione flinched, noticing the lecture was over and everyone had left. She quickly blurted, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean-”
Professor McGonagall raised her hand, “You are not in trouble, Miss Granger.”
Hermione stood up and started packing her bag up, her hands shaking, her breath ragged.
“Stop,” she interrupted, walking over to Hermione’s desk, “We need to talk.”
Hemione sat down again, “About what?” Hermione asked, frightened.
The professor sat on a chair, her stern face softening to a maternal concern, ‘You.”
“I- I don’t know what happened but I will try harder.” Hermione stammered.
“I’ve known you since you were eleven.” she explained, “And I’ve noticed something different about you.”
Hermione hesitated, then muttered quietly, “Like what?”
“You’ve been more quiet, not eating much, not sleeping much and zoning out more. And though it’s 90 degrees out, you’ve been insistent on long sleeves.” McGonagall answered calmly.
“I’m fine,” Hermione blurted, ‘Honest.”
The older witch raised an eyebrow, “Miss Granger, I’ve been teaching long enough to recognize a student in crisis.”
“I just… I’m fine, just a little stressed out about classes.” Hermione gulped.
McGonagall put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, but Hermione flinched away. She said, stepping back “This looks more than being a little stressed.”
Hermione looked away, staying quiet for a moment, then quietly muttered, “I tried. I tried so hard. But-”
“But what, Miss Granger?” she asked, her eyes warm with care.
“I can’t do this anymore!” Hermione admitted, tears rolling down her face,
McGonagall hesitated for a minute, then slowly wrapped her arms around Hermione, embracing the child as if it were her own, “Shh, let it out.”
Hermione pulled away, and admitted, “I stood on the roof of the astronomy tower last night!”
The professor, trying to hide her fear, said softly, “Oh my dear.”
Hermione stiffened, bracing herself for something to come.
McGonagall softly said, “I’m so proud of you for not jumping.”
Hermione wiped her eyes, and asked, “Are you going to tell anyone?"
Her shoulders stiffened, “I have to.”
“No you can’t do that. Please no-” Hermione gulped.
McGonagall looked at Hermione, with sorrow in her green eyes, “You need help.” She said carefully.
Hermione sat still, tired from everything and softly admitted, “I do.”
“And I will do everything in my power to get you help.” she promised.
Hermione asked carefully, “What’s going to happen?” Her voice full of fear.
`McGonagall leaned back a fraction, explaining calming. “I’m going to walk you to Madam Ponfrey, who I've known forever. She will probably check you over, take care of any injuries you may have,” she nodded towards Hermione's sleeves, “ask you some questions, and we’ll go from there.”
“I’m scared,” Hermione admitted.
“I know,” she assured, “but we will work together and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
*****
The walk to the hospital wing was silent, McGonagall leading Hermione with a steady hand guiding Hermione through the winding halls.
The doors to the hospital wing open with a loud creak and Madam Pomfrey who was rewrapping an ankle looked up, scanning Hermione shaking alongside her colleague.
“Find a cot,” Madam Pomfrey instructed, “I’ll be over there in a moment."
McGonagall guided Hermione to a cubicle in the corner whispering softly, “I got you.”
Hermione sat on the bed, the crisp linen sheets soft against her palm.
Madam Pomfrey walked in and sat on a chair next to McGonagall, mummering, “How are you, dear?”
Hermione hesitated for a moment, wiping her wet eyes, “Not ok.” she admitted.
Madam Pomfrey nodded knowingly, softly whispering, “I know dear, I know.” Her hands took Hermione’s wrist to feel her pulse. Hermione did not pull away. Madam Pomfrey pulled Hermione’s sleeve up revealing pale skin with faint lines.
Professor McGonagall, staying calm and collected, gently reassured, “You are safe, Miss Granger.”
Hermione nodded, blinking rapidly at her tears, sniffling, “I’m sorry.”
Madam Pomfrey quickly said, “It’s not your fault, Dear. You will never have to apologize for hurting. Especially not in my infirmary.” She stood up and walked to a shelf grabbing a bin of supplies, setting it next to Hermione.
“This might sting,” Madam Pomfrey warned, dabbing at Hermione’s wrist with a cotton ball. She worked quietly and carefully, methodically bandaging the wounds, her touch gentle.
As she finished, she set the gauze down looking at Hermione with sympathy, “You’ve been carrying too much for too long, haven’t you, Dear?”
Hermione nodded, her breath shaking, “Yes,”
“Ok.” she said, getting up to put the supplies away, “You will stay here for a few days. You will get proper meals and adequate rest. Only then will we make you a plan.”
“Thanks.” Hermione whispered.
` “It’s what we’re here for,” McGonagall assured, “You are not alone at Hogwarts.”
Her eyes droop softly, her eyelids getting heavy. She slowly falls asleep to her much needed rest.
*****
A few hours later, Hermione wakes up from her nap. As she stirs awake, she suddenly mumbles, “Where am I?”
Madam Pomfrey is at her bedside in a second gently brushing her hair out of her face, “You’re in the hospital wing dear. You’re safe, and exactly where you are supposed to be.”
Hermione sits up, madam Pomfrey propping pillows behind her back, and checking on her bandages. “How are you feeling, Dear?” Madam Pomfrey asks, her voice soft and calming.
“I don’t know.” Hermione admitted, “I honestly haven’t felt much of anything lately.”
Madam Pomfrey gives a knowing nod, “That’s ok. I’m going to give you a potion that should help you feel a little bit better.”
She heads to her back room, coming back with a tiny glass bottle, “Drink this,” she instructed, handing it to Hermione.
Hermione takes the vial in her hand, closely looking at it skeptically, then reluctantly drinks it in a big gulp. Her face immediately goes sour, muttering, “That’s… strong.”
Madam Pomfrey who had been watching Hermione closely said shocked, “Well… what did you expect? Pumpkin juice?” trying hard to hide a smirk.
Hermione grinned slightly, before returning to her tired expression. She adjusts Hermione’s sheets before picking up the empty bottle and placing it on the table with a loud clank.
“Will I-” Hermione started, “-ever get better?” She asks nervously.
Madam Pomfrey lets out a quiet sigh sitting on the edge of Hermione’s bed, “Eventually, healing just takes time.”
“I don’t want to die,” Hermione admits, “I just- life is so much right now.”
Madam Pomfrey says knowingly, “I understand Dear. I really do.”
“How?” Hermione questions.
Madam Pomfrey hesitates, “When I was a young witch, I stood on a tower like you did last night.”
Hermione gasped, “But you? You are arguably the best healer of Hogwarts history?”
“There was a time,” Madam Pomfrey started choosing her words carefully, “when I felt really alone. Where I felt like nothing mattered.”
Silence stretched across the room for a moment, then Hermione quietly asked, “How’d you get through it?”
“Professor McGonagall," Madam Pomfrey answered, “We were friends in school. She followed me to the roof. Talked me out of it. Escorted me to this very ward.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, then whispered, “Then what happened?”
“I spent a few weeks in the hospital wing. The matron gave me some potions to ease my mind, made sure I ate and slept, and talked to me.” Madam Pomfrey, answered, “And I will do the same with you.”
“Am I crazy?” Hermione asked nervously looking down at her bandaged wrists.
“No,” Madam Pomfrey said firmly, “You are simply in pain.”
Just then the loud click of McGonagall's heels echoed in the hospital wing, approaching Hermione's bed, “How was your nap, Miss Granger?”
“Ok,” Hermione replied quietly, not really knowing what to do with herself, but then asked carefully, “What is wrong with me?”
Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall looked at each other for a second, then Madam Pomfrey spoke up, “Nothing is wrong with you, Dear. I believe you are struggling with depression?”
“Depression?” Hermione asked skeptically, “No, I’m not depressed. I have friends and awesome parents.”
“That’s not how depression works, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall explained, “Anyone can be depressed, no matter how ‘good’ they have it.”
Madam Pomfrey got up and went to her bookshelf, picking up a blue book with bookmarks peaking out. She puts it on the nightstand next to Hermione, opening it to a page, “I’m going to ask you a few questions and I need you to answer honestly.”
Hermione nodded her head, waiting patiently.
“Do you feel sad, depressed, or hopeless?” Madam Pomfrey asked.
Hermione nodded, “Yes.”
Madam Pomfey ticked a box, then asked, “Little to no pleasure to do anything?”
“Yes.” Hermione said, “Even reading isn’t fun anymore.”
Madam Pomfrey ticked another box, “How’s your appetite?” she asks, noting Hermione's thin body.
“Non existent.” Hermione admitted, remembering at lunch she just pushed food around her plate with a fork as her friend laughed reading the humor section of the Daily Prophet.
Another tick. “Are you sleeping?” Madam Pomfrey asked.
Hermione shakes her head.
Madam Pomfrey nodded, ticking another box, “And you’re energy?”
“Most days I don’t want to get out of bed.” Hermione answered.
Another tick, “Have you felt worthless?” Madam Pomfrey asked carefully.
Hermione hesitated, then nodded, eyes filling with tears.
McGonagall puts a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder, saying softly, “You are not in trouble, Miss Granger.”
“And your studies?” Madam Pomfrey asks gently.
McGonagall clears her throat, “Miss Granger's grades have been slipping.”
Hermione tenses up, and Madam Pomfrey says carefully, “It’s ok, you’ve been struggling.”
Hermione nods, and says quietly, “I have been trying so hard.”
“I know, Dear.” Madam Pomfrey, “I need to ask you a heavy question but it's important you answer honestly.”
Hermione gulps, her hands shaking. She reluctantly nods, knowing Madam Pomfrey means well.
“Have you,” Madam Pomfrey started, “had any thoughts of ending your own life?”
Hermione is silent, her eyes watering, and whispers, “Yes.”
Madam Pomfrey closes the book, handing Hermione a tissue. “I’m sure those thoughts are scary. You’ve done so well being honest and brave.”
“I’ve been trying so hard but-” Hermione’s voice trails off.
“-Life is harder than it ought to be.” Madam Pomfrey finishes.
McGonagall clears her throat, saying softly, “Miss Granger, you are a student, we are your mentors. Our job is to try to make life a little easier and more bearable for you.”
“I just thought-” Hermione started, “if I ignored it it would go away.”
Madam Pomfrey’s heart ached a little but she smiled softly and said, “I know you wish that was how it works, and so do I. But it doesn’t work like that. Healing takes time, dear.”
“What now?” Hermione asks quietly.
“Well,” Madam Pomfrey explains, gesturing to the book on the table, “based on your answers I believe you have Major Depressive Disorder. It is completely treatable, but because you mentioned thoughts of hurting yourself I am going to keep you under careful observation and make sure you get the support you need,” she paused for a moment, putting a hand on Hermione's, “and deserve.”
“But my classes…” Hermione gasps.
“Will be perfectly fine without. Your well-being is more important than my Transfiguration class.” McGonagall finished.
Hermione stammered, “Wait… what?”
McGonagall's eyes soften, sitting on the foot of Hermione’s bed, “Miss Granger, you are a lot of things. Smart, kind, and most importantly, brave.” she starts, “but sometimes bravery is letting yourself get help. Sometimes it’s recognizing that you are not a machine. Do you understand?”
Hermione nods, clutching the end of the sheet, “Yes, professor.”
Night came quickly, the sunlight shining through the big windows of the Hospital wing faded to a soft glow. Hermione laid in her bed, picking at her nails. Madam Pomfrey came in with a food tray with soup and a piece of buttered toast, setting it down in front of Hermione.
“I expect you aren’t feeling hungry,” Madam Pomfrey acknowledged, “but I need you to take a few bites so you can start getting your strength back.”
Hermione reluctantly picked up the toast, taking a small nibble of the corner. Madam Pomfrey nodded approvingly, “Good job, dear.”
A small smile flashed on Hermione’s face, saying quietly, “It’s good.”
Madam Pomfrey sat down, her hands smoothing Hermione’s blanket. “I trust tonight a calming draught would be beneficial to you?” She asked.
Hermione nodded, “I haven’t been sleeping much, I- I have bad dreams.”
Madam Pomfrey got up, walking over to her cabinet and pulling out several vials. She asked calmly, “What are they about? You’re dreams?”
“It’s stupid.” Hermione muttered.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head, “Dreams are messages for you,” she started, placing the vials carefully on the table, “and they are rarely stupid.”
“Last summer,” Hermione started, “my uncle came to visit,” tears forming in her eyes.
Madam Pomfrey handed her a glass of water, and sat down next to her, giving a reassuring smile, “Go on, I’m listening.”
“He came into my room one night. Told me to be quiet. He… touched me.” Hermione muttered, fear in her eyes.
Madam Pomfrey immediately put her arms around Hermione’s shaking body, rubbing slow circles on her back, “It wasn’t your fault.”
Hermione pulled away, “He said never to tell anyone. He said he’d hurt me if I ever did.”
Madam Pomfrey’s eyes widened, moving back to give Hermione space, “Oh my dear.”
“Ever since then,” Hermione sobbed, “all I can feel is his hands on me.”
Madam Pomfrey said gently, “At Hogwarts, nothing like that can happen.”
Hermione explains through sobs, “I stood on the Astronomy roof because I don’t want to feel,” she paused, her breath hitched, “him.”
Madam Pomfrey says confidently, “You are not alone in this.” she pauses, choosing words carefully, “I have seen girls just like you and I know how hard it can be, but I know how to help you feel comfortable in your body again.”
Hermione wiped her eyes, saying weakly, “Really?”
Madam Pomfrey looked at Hermione's big brown eyes with sincerity, “Yes, my dear.”
Madam Pomfrey hands Hermione a small vial, “Calming draught. Eases the nerves.”
Hermione took it and gulped it down, the taste a little more palpable than before.
“And now,” Madam Pomfrey held up a second bottle, “Dreamless sleep potion. No nightmares, just rest.”
Hermione took it desperately, swallowing it ignoring the taste. She smiled weakly, “Thank you.”
“Anytime, my dear,” Madam Pomfrey said, picking up the empty food tray, “I’ll be back to tuck you in.”
Madam Pomfrey comes back, her gentle hands fluffing pillows and smoothing the blanket so it’s just tight enough Hermione felt safe but loose enough she didn’t feel trapped. Madam Pomfrey sat down on the chair, the quiet glow of the candle filling the room, the aroma of herbs and fresh linens filled the air.
“I’m going to sit here until you fall asleep,” Madam Pomfrey said, “Don’t worry, I will make sure nobody hurts you tonight.”
Hermione smiled softly, saying drowsily, “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.” Her eyes drifted closed.
“Anytime dear, anytime.”
*****
Hermione woke early next morning, the sun creeping in through the windows. As she sat up and realized that for the first time in months, she didn’t have any nightmares.
Professor McGonagall came in, her heels clicking against the stone floor. “How did you sleep, Miss Granger?” she asked, sitting beside Hermione's bed.
“Actually pretty well,” Hernione answered, “Madam Pomfrey gave me a dreamless sleep potion.”
“Excelent,” Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, “Miss Granger, Madam Pomfrey told me about what happened to you last summer,”
Hermione gripped the sheet nervously, her shoulders tensing, “It’s not a big deal.”
McGonagall shook her head, “It was a big deal, a man violated your body. It isn’t ok.”
Silence stretched between them, then Hermione admitted, “Most nights, I keep wondering what I did. Maybe I wore too short of a skirt at dinner, or I put on too much make up.”
Professor McGonagall put a hand up, “You did nothing to deserve it. That man, your uncle is simply a,” she paused, “dangerous man who did something disgusting."
“So what is going to happen?” Hermione asked.
McGonagall cleared her throat, “We have found you a place. It’s a residential facility for victims like yourself. You will receive therapy, support groups, and intense emotional care.”
“But- my parents…” Hermione mentioned.
“I have spoken to your parents. They know what happened and agreed to let you go to the residential facility.” McGonagall assured.
“But my studies,” Hermione argued.
“Miss Granger, had you jumped off the tower there would be no studies.” McGonagall explained.
“I guess, perhaps you are right.” Hermione sat up putting her arms around McGonagall. At first McGonagall stiffened, then slowly embraced Hermione.
“Thank you.” Hermione says, tears rolling down.
“We Gryffindors must be there for each other.” McGonagall said, smiling unusually.
It was just then when Hermione noticed that the feeling of being alone had slowly faded from a thick storm to a gentle breeze and she thought to herself, “Maybe staying was the right choice.