Hello all! Here's an idea that just wouldn't leave me be. I own nothing. In addition, I cannot even take credit for the pub name "Grave Concoctions." Alas, it is taken from the Apothecary located in Falkreath in Skyrim. Please forgive me, it just seemed like such a great name for a pub!

October 31, 1981

Minerva McGonagall smoothed her cloak as she stepped silently into Grave Concoctions. It was a large pub, frequented by members of the Order, and was located in Wizarding London. Minerva slipped in quickly and grabbed a single glass and a bottle of special reserve elf-made whiskey.

It had been little over an hour ago that she'd watched Dumbledore drop off young Harry Potter at his Aunt's doorstep. She was still heated about the arrangement. The pub was toasting the infant, his parents, Dumbledore, lost friends and family, and even the Ministry. She noticed Mundungus Fletcher was passed out on a nearby table. Sturgis Podmore was getting cheeky with a cocktail waitress near the bar. Across the room, Algie Longbottom was leading a group in song.

Minerva wanted to be alone. Her head was pounding, her back was aching, and above all else she felt a horrible sense of dissatisfaction that she couldn't shake. She quickly made her way from the bar to the stairwell that led to the upper floors. There was a small window that led to the roof of the building. She planned to sneak outside, sit on the roof, and enjoy her solitude.

As she made her way upstairs, she nodded to Guy Martin, the French ambassador and a long-time supporter of Dumbledore. She passed several other Order members and supporters, including three members of her staff- Pomona Sprout, Filius Flitwick, and Rolanda Hooch- who were supposed to be at Hogwarts.

"The feast was done," Pomona said in an apologetic tone with a hiccup, "And besides, you're here."

Minerva gave her colleagues a curt nod and went on her way. She was a woman on a mission to find a little solitude.

When she at last emerged from the smoky, smelly pub into the cool night air she breathed a sigh of relief. She poured herself a large dose of her favourite medicine and raised the glass to her lips. Looking out on the London skyline she paused. The bright lights off in the distance contrasted sharply with the darkness of Diagon Alley. It reminded her of her time living in London, many years earlier. She began to feel tears welling up in her eyes. Her vision blurred. She closed her eyes, took a long drink, and tried to wipe the memory from her mind.

Voldemort was dead. He was gone. She should feel relieved. But instead, all she felt was the taste of disgust. She slammed her drink and immediately poured another. Minerva had spent the better part of the last thirty years trying to bring down the Dark Lord. She'd aided Dumbledore in every aspect of the war against Voldemort. Now that he was gone she didn't know what to do with herself. She'd lost everything fighting Voldemort. She had accepted the job at Hogwarts because it worked well for her duties with the Order. She could work closely with Dumbledore, have a vast resource for her research, and recruit students to the Order.

Now that the war was done she wasn't sure she wanted to stay. She had never imagined life beyond the war. She'd honestly thought she wouldn't live to see the end of it.

Taking another long drink she realized she was still crying.

"It gets better," a familiar voice said. She sat up straight and wiped her eyes.

Albus Dumbledore sat down next to her on the roof.

"There's a whole pub full of friends and like-minded, high spirited people down there celebrating," he said with a smile. "Perhaps you should join them."

She dismissed his suggestion and insisted she was fine. They sat in silence for a time, staring blankly out into the night, lost in their own thoughts.

"We never truly know the depth of our love until we face the reality of separation," Dumbledore said solemnly. Minerva sniffled.

"You can drink away your headache or the stiffness in your back," he went on, "but you cannot drink away the memories or the pain in your chest."

"What makes you think that has anything to do with this?" She choked. "We've lost a lot of people."

"I know," he said as he turned to her. "I know because twenty-five years ago I saw that look in your eyes when you accepted my offer to join the Order."

She closed her eyes and thought back to that day. She had been young. It was 1956 and she had just learned the horrible truth about how harsh the reality of love could be. She was alone, defeated, and determined to bring down Voldemort, the man who had taken everything from her. Dumbledore offered her a position at Hogwarts and she readily accepted. She told herself to keep moving forward and had rarely looked back. Tonight was one of those nights.

"He took everything," she sobbed angrily. It was true. In one terrible evening, Halloween 1956, Voldemort had taken her home, her fiancé, and her passion for life.

"Time and whiskey won't heal your heartache, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "But with time you'll learn to act like you're better. You might even start to believe it yourself."

"Did you ever get better?" She asked suddenly as she looked at him.

"Yes," he said. "But sometimes I still think about him."

Dumbledore's thoughts drifted momentarily to Gellert Grindelwald. He'd invested so much of himself into bringing down Grindelwald. He felt no satisfaction in ending Gellert's reign of terror. He felt only remorse. Gellert had been such a wonderful man. Full of life, Gellert had filled Dumbledore's life with happiness and sorrow equally.

"I feel angry and sad," she confessed. "But I feel equally ashamed and guilty."

"You cannot tell your heart to stop loving someone," he said to reassure her. "I felt guilty for so long about helping Gellert study advanced magic. But I couldn't have known what he would have become."

"You warned me and I ignored you," she said seriously as she recalled a day from her youth.

"Tom Riddle is not the man you think he is Miss McGonagall," she said imitating Dumbledore's voice. She had been in her final year at Hogwarts. She had secured a job at the Ministry and had made plans to move into a small home with Tom Riddle.

He conjured a glass and she poured him a drink.

"I was only trying to save you a little heartache," he confessed. "Having been there and done that."

"But how does it happen?" She asked with a bitter laugh. "We're smart. We're confident. We should have known better. I'd like to think we could do better."

"There wasn't any better. Gellert had a charming smile," Dumbledore confessed as he fondly remembered their first intimate moment together. It had been a stolen kiss, behind his Aunt Bathilda's home, while the two boys were supposed to be fetching firewood.

She laughed and raised her glass in the air to propose a toast.

"Here's to us," she said, "To the Dark Wizards we cannot love."

"We cannot help but love," Dumbledore corrected. "And to them- two stars who burned too brightly."

"And the lives we'll never live," Minerva smiled.

They toasted and Minerva used the opportunity to inform Dumbledore of her resignation. He was shocked.

"I think my time at Hogwarts is done," she said resigned.

"But you should reconsider," he insisted. "And what about that nice man from the Ministry? Hmm? Aren't you planning a vacation with him?"

"Elphinstone?" She smiled. "He is very nice. Too nice for someone like me. I'm all washed up, Albus. My time is done."

"I'm sorry, Minerva," he said. "But I cannot accept your resignation. I have another assignment for you. If you want to give up on yourself I won't stand in your way. But before you do, I have one last assignment for you."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You are responsible for assuring the protection, emotional support, and rehabilitation of one Severus Snape," Dumbledore said. "He'll be joining our staff over the break."

"Why me?" She asked.

"I think you'll work best to make a connection with him," Dumbledore said. "He needs a friend and some guidance. He also needs a firm hand."

With that, Dumbledore turned on his heal and left.

Minerva sat alone on the rooftop for a few more hours. Quietly drinking and mulling over her new assignment. A firm hand. A connection. Dumbledore's words weren't for nothing. She ran her hand under her robe across her collarbone. It had been 25 years, but the tattoo still hurt. Hours earlier it had burned, seared with a pain so intense that she collapsed to her knees. It was then that she knew Tom Riddle was dead.

She stood up, stretched, and made her way back down through the pub. It was considerably less crowded than it had been earlier. Mundungus Fletcher was still passed out, face down, on a dirty table. She thanked the bartender and made her way outside where it was starting to grow light.

She rounded the corner and apparated out of Diagon Alley and into a small, dingy alley in the town of Cokeworth. Before leaving, Dumbledore had given her an address at which she could find Mr. Snape. It was a small, dirty-looking row house with soot-covered bricks.

She knocked sharply and he answered the door quickly. He was disheveled. His eyes were red and puffy and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. She waited at the doorway for him to say something.

"Professor McGonagall," he sputtered.

"Minerva," she replied as she raised her head to meet his eyes.

"When you come to Hogwarts you'll need to avoid the all-night benders," she said seriously. "Can't have a drunk in a classroom full of potions."

"What do you call ol' Slughorn?" Severus countered.

She tried to suppress a smile as Severus led her into his home.

"So you're my probation officer?" He asked in a slow drawl. "Dumbledore sent you to check up on me then?"

"Not exactly," she explained as she sat down on a grimy armchair.

"Oh come off it," he snapped. "Listen, I've got news for you, Professor," he sneered as he turned to face her, "I've seen and done things you can't even imagine in your pure little head. I'm a murderer. I was present when Frank and Alice Longbottom were tortured. I once made a Muggle strangle his family before I offed him. And I'm not about to be babysat by some do-goody spinster."

She smiled and nodded as she stood up.

"I've seen things that would make you sick, boy," she said coldly as she pulled back her collar to reveal a Dark Mark tattoo on her collarbone. It was the mark, but unlike any Severus had seen before.

"I came as a friend, not a babysitter," she said sternly. "My office is located on the first floor if you change your mind."

She turned on her heel and left.

Three days later a much cleaner Severus Snape showed up at her office door in the afternoon. They spent several hours talking. He was having trouble relaxing. They didn't discuss the Dark Lord or his politics. Instead, the talked about quidditch. Minerva found it rather refreshing. He was sharp witted and had a dark sense of humour.

When Severus left he actually found himself looking forward to returning to Hogwarts in a month's time. He was reluctant to call people friends, but he would admit he could tolerate Minerva.