Disclaimer: If it were mine, I could pay off my mortgage in less than a minute. Then I could quit work and write FF in cafes all day... in Scotland, no less. *sigh* Alas, I've more chance of picking ear wax out of my ears than my bank accepting your reviews as payment on said mortgage.

Updated: Sunday 20 June 2009

A/N: This is part of an experiment to test my muse: whichever story gets the most (and the best) feedback I will continue with at a faster pace. At least that's the theory I am out to test...

Prologue: 19 Minutes after the final battle

She waited, with resigned necessity, as the figures of Harry Potter and his friends emerged from behind the stone gargoyle, and disappeared around the corner. In all the pandemonium following Voldemort's fall – Ministry officials arriving to verify the news, the castle flooded with an influx of anxious parents as word of the battle had gotten out, students all the while wandering around dazed – it had been ridiculously easy to slip in through the crowds unnoticed. A surge of protectiveness bubbled within her as she considered how vulnerable the exhausted hero might have been had she sought to bring him harm, but it faded away with the stark reminder that Harry was as much a man now; capable of taking care of himself, as recent events had more than proven.

Retracing the young Gryffindor's steps, she carved an unfamiliar path in to the office she knew so well – her arrival in times past consistently framed by the iron grate of the Headmaster's Floo.
'Hello, Albus,' she said, removing the cloak that, in battle, had served the purpose of rendering her faceless and without gender. Unclipping the pin in her hair, so that the coppery red tresses could fan about her face and settle upon her shoulders freely, she eyed the portrait carefully.

'You're injured,' observed the oil canvas of Albus Dumbledore, recognising the pain in the woman's eyes only too well – for it was something he'd seen only too often in another who shared eyes of that distinctive hue. 'You were at the battle.'

'Don't feign your surprise, Albus. It is most unbecoming,' said the woman blandly, leaning against the late wizard's desk so that she might better observe his image whilst allowing her body some rest. 'Of course I was there. I was there just as I was that night in the Ministry... and here, last year as you fell! With my obligations in France now long dispensed with did you really think a foolish Vow was going to keep me away?'

Albus shook his head sadly, painted eyes seeming to portray his regret.
'No,' he admitted with a sad smile. 'Though I had hoped that Severus might have been able to appeal to your better judgement-'

The expression on the woman's face darkened, and she pushed away from the desk angrily; wincing as the action of straightening up aggravated the knocks she had sustained in battle, and had yet to treat. She shook her head vehemently.
'Yes, well, Severus and I haven't exactly been on level terms since he tried to set a Dementor on Sirius,' she pointed out glibly. 'Not that I ever stood to listen to reason from him when it came to Harry, in any event. Where is he, anyway? Don't tell me my fool brother remains unaware of all my father did to help-'

Albus' eyes lost their twinkle and drifted towards his Pensieve in response.
'No, I am afraid that Harry is more than aware of Severus' efforts,' he paused, locking eyes with the woman with an expression that conveyed more than words alone. 'Though I fear the price your father paid was far too great... I'm sorry, Eileen.'

A/N: Yes, sorry, I couldn't resist... naming the epilogue what I did :P