Redemption

28

Sitting at the vanity, I carefully applied my makeup, taking comfort in the simple task. It had been so long since I had done something so girly for myself, taking care of my appearance. My hair was hastily pulled back from my face in a loose bun, still wet from the long bath I'd taken. The pink silk robe was tight around my waist, the smooth fabric delicate on my skin. With the plunging neckline, my scars were more obvious; the mark left from Bellatrix's knife along my throat, the strike of the Whomping Willow's branches across my chest, the burns from the vault. I stared at my reflection. A stranger looked back. No, not a stranger... Someone who'd lived through terrors barely imaginable by many. Haunted eyes met mine, stories flashing in them, both the good and the bad. I had grown up so fast, my childhood innocence robbed from me at such a young age.

A quiet knock at the door startled me from my mind. I stood to open the door, coming face to face with the headmistress. She offered me a warm smile. "I thought I might find you here. Are you to attend the supper tonight?"

I nodded, inviting her into the room. "Are you?"

She smiled, placing a hand on my cheek. "How you've grown these past few years. I'm so proud of you."

My eyes watered lightly. The woman was my mother away from home. She'd always been there for me. No matter the situation. I returned her smile. "Could I ask you to do my hair? I've always envied your talent."

The older witch lit up like a Christmas tree. She ushered me to the pouffe before the mirror, grabbing my brush as she went, removing the hair tie and slowly brushing through my curls. I hadn't felt so relaxed in ages, her careful hands working my tresses into twists and plaits.

When she was done, I couldn't believe my hair could be moulded in such a way. It had always been so difficult to manage. Now, with only the slightest bit of sleek-easy and her meticulous braiding, my hair was done up in a look that rivalled the witches on the cover of Witch Weekly magazine. I had never really cared all that much about my looks, but looking at myself now, I felt like a princess, a fairytale in the flesh.

After thanking her a million times over, she turned to leave, and gestured to the flowers on my night stand, having caught sight of them. "I see you have an admirer." I couldn't help but blush. "Is Mr Weasley attempting to regain your favour?"

I shook my head. "Actually, Professor Snape offered me those."

Her face sobered. "He's always been a sweet boy. Though his intentions can occasionally be dark, despite the innocent actions."

I frowned, standing to meet her eyes. "What are you trying to say?"

The woman's eyes turned sad. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just want you to be careful. You don't know him the way I do. He's been dangerous in the past."

I raised an eyebrow, staring her down. "I hardly think this is of your concern."

McGonagall's brow furrowed. "Of course, dearie. I'm only trying to keep an eye out."

I took a steadying breath. I would not, under any circumstance, overreact this time. "It isn't necessary. When you love someone, you learn to see beyond their past and help them grow. He's different than before." I hugged myself, holding myself together. "There is so much more good than bad in him."

Gryffindor's head of house let tears roll down her face. "You really do love him, don't you?"

I nodded, searching for the proper words. "I think I have for a while now."

She opened her arms to me, I stepped into them, leaning my cheek on her shoulder. "Forgive me, Hermione, dear. I don't mean to intrude. I'm only concerned for your well-being."