A/N: I don't own Harry Potter.
Aberforth/Minerva
The first time Minerva McGonagall ordered a drink at the Hog's Head Inn, Aberforth Dumbledore handed it to her with little more than a grunt.
The second time she walked in, he acknowledged her presence with a stiff nod.
On the third occasion, she inquired how his day had gone. He looked surprised but answered with a curt "yes" and went back to wiping down the bar.
By the fourth time, he greeted her presence with a gruff "hello."
After that, they fell into an easy routine.
She would talk about whatever came to mind, the weather or Quidditch or some stunt one of her Gryffindors had pulled, and he would listen.
Sometimes he even opened up enough to offer his opinion on the tale of the day.
It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that Albus Dumbledore was never mentioned.
~HP~
The night of Albus' funeral she showed up at his door.
He held her as she cried. When her desperate sobs had subsided, he stood up and fetched a bottle of firewhiskey.
He poured a glass for each of them.
As they drank their memories away, she smiled weakly at him.
It was a small, sad, tired, world-weary smile, but it warmed his heart.
And he knew that, for once, he would be happy to pick up the pieces of the mess that his brother had left behind.