![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wisdomeagleMore drabble as a bonus treat from the archives. Completely undated, possibly from 2004? Heavily revised tonight.
[Harry Potter, Hermione/McGonagall, sometime after book 4, PG. First contact, last letter.]
Possible Now
Boys are impossible, thinks Hermione, brushing away angry tears. She crumples the letter, blind to the stains her dripping quill leaves on her Arithmancy book. Viktor is nothing. And Ron is nothing. And she has nothing. The sobbing won't stop, even when she hears a door shut and sees the person she least wants to witness her imperfection.
"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" asks Professor McGonagall, looming, and impervious to pain.
"Fine," Hermione whispers.
"I see." She drops a hand to Hermione's shoulder. Hermione looks up, trying to smile. She knows, then, that Minerva's magic is in her touch.
[Harry Potter, Hermione/McGonagall, sometime after book 4, PG. First contact, last letter.]
Possible Now
Boys are impossible, thinks Hermione, brushing away angry tears. She crumples the letter, blind to the stains her dripping quill leaves on her Arithmancy book. Viktor is nothing. And Ron is nothing. And she has nothing. The sobbing won't stop, even when she hears a door shut and sees the person she least wants to witness her imperfection.
"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" asks Professor McGonagall, looming, and impervious to pain.
"Fine," Hermione whispers.
"I see." She drops a hand to Hermione's shoulder. Hermione looks up, trying to smile. She knows, then, that Minerva's magic is in her touch.