A/N - Cheers everyone. I officially decided that there is a deficit of McGonagall/Moody fics - especially multi-chapter ones - and thus, this fic came about. Inspired in part by a rainy day at the castle, copious amounts of Bryan Adams music and the Les Miserables soundtrack. This fic is set in 1941 - for a moment of historical-ness, this means there's this right massive war going (in the wizard and muggle world) and the Blitz has just ended in May of 41. Our story picks up in September. So, read, review, and most importantly - Enjoy!


September sun shone through grey and white clouds, light catching in sparkles and snatches on the surface of the lake. Dropping her bag on the shore, Minerva McGonagall slid out of her shoes and fell to a seat where the grass gave way to sand. Fifth year had begun with just as much gravity as she had expected, classes full of professors who made grave threats about their students' futures. Several students had appeared to be distinctly unnerved by all the sudden expectations. Minerva had merely counted down the minutes until she could slip out of the castle and onto the grounds. Summer days of sunlight and freedom had been brought to an end the previous day in the form of a scarlet steam engine and a crowded platform. Of course, with the war and the bombings and everything else, summer had not felt much like summer at all, and Minerva had been only too glad to return to Hogwarts. Here at school, war was a distant and far away thing, an unpleasant dream that faded by morning. Minerva closed her eyes, breathing deep of the warm autumn air, feeling more at home, more at peace, than she had since her father had come home two years ago and announced that the world was going to war. Footsteps crunched on the grass behind her and Minerva smiled and leaned back, stretching her arms overhead and catching hold of a pair of ankles. Alastor Moody smiled down at her and shook his head, prying loose first one foot, then the other.

"A simple hello would have been just fine."

"Hello then," Minerva grinned and righted herself as Alastor sat down beside her, loosening his tie. He had let his hair grow out over the summer, and the deep auburn color shimmered in the light. "Have you taken to following me around now?"

"I was under the impression I've been following you around since first year," Alastor said with a shrug. Minerva laughed at the truth of this statement, earning a grin from Alastor. Finishing with his tie, he turned his attention to rolling the sleeves of his shirt. His too-big fingers fumbled with the edges, as usual, and Minerva sighed and reached out, knocking his hands away and taking hold of the sleeve herself.

"That's true. But usually you've got Tiberius in tow."

Tiberius Kirk was an exceptionally tall Scotsman with a mop of curly brown hair and a rolling accent that tended to grow stronger when he was angry. He and Alastor had been best friends since some incident on their first journey aboard the Hogwarts Express. When Minerva first met the pair on the boat ride to the castle, she had been under the impression the boys had been friends for years. Of course, neither of Alastor nor Tiberius could be bothered to share the details of whatever incident had led to their meeting, only casting sideways grins at each other whenever Minerva asked. All that mattered, they told her, was that there were certain ways a fellow knew he had found a lifelong friend. Minerva assumed this meant that they had both been alone and terrified and only too happy to find someone else feeling the same. Finishing her work on the closest sleeve, Minerva leaned across Alastor for his opposite arm. Alastor made some sort of protest about doing the job himself, but Minerva shushed him and went on about her work.

"He stayed after Divination. I didn't ask," Alastor said slowly and then Minerva felt him laugh, a deep rumble against her shoulder. At first Minerva was laughing too, patting his arm as she finished rolling the sleeve. And then she was suddenly aware of how close they were, could feel his breath on her hair, and butterflies whirled in her stomach. She felt her face grow hot, and a quick glance upward proved that Alastor's freckled face had turned a similar shade of red. Their eyes locked, frozen in the moment, and Alastor was the first to look away, managing a grin and mumbling something too soft for her to hear. Minerva forced a quick smile and leaned back, hands in her lap and eyes on the lake, the ground, the hem of her skirt. Merlin, this was Alastor, who had been her friend since first year. She certainly should not be having butterflies with him, of all people. Awkward silence passed over the pair as clouds shifted overhead with the breeze, splaying odd-shaped shadows across the ground.

"You know, you're a prefect now," Alastor said slowly, plucking at the grass with his fingers. "You probably shouldn't be sneaking out here in the middle of the day."

"With all the privileges prefects get, I suppose there had to be some rules involved as well," Minerva sighed. Her parents had been ecstatic at the news that she had been named one of the Gryffindor prefects. She had been pleased enough, and pleasantly surprised when her father took her to buy a new broom. But Alastor was unfortunately quite right - the position came with all sorts of responsibilities and expectations. Including, apparently, the loss of her ability to slip out of the castle to enjoy a bit of fresh air between classes.

"What sort of privileges?" Alastor asked. He had turned his attention away from the grass, and the blush had begun to fade from his face. Minerva could almost pretend the strange moment had never happened at all.

"We get to...um...well, enforcing rules, for one."

"Naturally."

"And we get to make rounds at night. Patrol the castle," Minerva added importantly. Alastor snorted and made a genuine effort to keep from laughing.

"Oh, so you'll be out of the common room after curfew, with permission?"

Minerva swatted him in the chest and gave him a very pointed look overtop of her glasses. She had practiced this look on her younger siblings over the summer, figuring that if she simply had to be a prefect, she might as well learn to look intimidating.

"Exactly. It's only a shame you won't have permission to be out as well. It'd certainly save us a lot of trouble."

"Because I'm sure Merrythought would be much more forgiving if she caught two Gryffindor prefects out in the corridors, charming suits of armor and whatnot," Alastor rolled his eyes. "Who wants to be a prefect anyway?"

"Tiberius is a prefect you know," Minerva countered. Honestly she had in fact been quite concerned at the news that Tiberius had named as a prefect, since half of their adventures were his idea anyway. Minerva had a distinct feeling she would be the only Gryffindor prefect who really made much effort to enforce the rules. Alastor smirked at the idea of his best friend being tasked with actual responsibilities. His smirk, however, faded into something of a relieved expression rather abruptly.

"I was wondering where you two had got to on the train."

"Tiberius was supposed to tell you. We had a prefects meeting," Minerva explained. The meeting had been rather boring, full of lists and rules and the general order for how being prefect was supposed to work. Honestly Minerva would have much rather been tucked away in a quiet compartment with Alastor and Tiberius instead.

"Oh. No, he didn't," Alastor frowned for a moment. "Oh well. What other perks you get with this job?"

Minerva had rapidly begun to realize the limited number of privileges prefects actually possessed. She was beginning to feel horribly mislead about the whole matter.

"There's a bathroom," she said finally, snapping her fingers. "The prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor."

Alastor did a better job of hiding his amusement this time, nodding solemnly and battling the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"A bathroom? That's lovely."

"You have to have a password to get in," Minerva insisted. She simply refused to allow Alastor to win this argument. Of course, both of them were stubborn enough that at this rate, the argument might very well last until dinner.

"So who do I need to bribe to get this password?" Alastor asked lightly. His wand was out now, and he was charming the grass to shift through a rainbow of colors. Minerva retrieved her own wand and set about transfiguring the grass into tiny, colored animals.

"Show off," Alastor grumbled, settling her with a look that might have been intimidating to anyone else. Alastor liked to pretend to be gruff and grumbly, but was in actuality more of a teddy bear than he was willing to admit. Not to mention the fact that Minerva knew full well that she was the last person Alastor would ever deliberately hurt. Minerva directed the multi-colored animals toward him, tiny elephants and giraffes and zebras marching in awkward, stumbling lines.

"Thank you. And you shouldn't be bribing prefects, Alastor. You might get into trouble."

"I think that was a thinly veiled threat," Alastor's eyebrows raised, though his eyes never left the bright orange zebra that was currently struggling to climb onto his shoe.

"Never," Minerva said cooly. "I'm merely saying that only Tiberius and I get to use the bathroom, and you'll have to make do with the one in Gryffindor Tower just like everyone else."

She had meant to be making a joke, an off-hand comment about how two of the three friends would be allowed to use the prefects' bathroom. Alastor, however, reacted as though she had just told him that she fancied a Slytherin. He stiffened, pink creeping across his face once more.

"You and Tiberius?"

"Well, yes. We are both prefects," Minerva said slowly, feeling rather confused. The zebra, which had finally made its way onto Alastor's shoe, began to climb the leg of his pants. Paying no attention to the little creature, Alastor stood abruptly, and the zebra fell back to earth. The charm broke, and only a few twisted blades of orange colored grass remained.

"Oh. Alright," Alastor's eyes were on the lake, and he sort of looked like someone had just hit him in the stomach. With a wave of his wand, the rest of the spells broke, and the rainbow menagerie vanished. Minerva stood as well, knowing she had said something wrong but entirely unsure which words had earned the need for an apology. She reached out and tugged on his sleeve, drawing his attention away from the dark water.

"It's only a bathroom, Al."

He winced, and anyone else who dared use the nickname would have been hexed on the spot, Tiberius included. Only Minerva had ever been allowed to call him anything but Alastor. A smile crossed his face, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. He brushed her fingers away, reaching down to retrieve his school bag.

"Right. Only a bathroom. I'd best get to class though. Potions, Slughorn, you know."

He was halfway back up the hill toward the castle before Minerva realized that she herself was due to be in Potions.

"Hang on! I'm heading there next as well, I'll walk with you!"

"It's alright," Alastor shook his head, pausing mid-stride. "You stay here. Enjoy the sun. I'll see you later."

Minerva watched him vanish over the hilltop before slowly returning to her seat in the grass. Here and there a few snatches of bright oranges and purples and blues marked where the little charmed animals had fallen. She was still feeling rather confused about the whole incident, because she certainly had not meant to hurt Alastor's feelings. He had said himself that he never wanted to be a prefect. For some reason his feelings mattered a great deal more than ever before, which was more than slightly troubling. He was still Alastor and she was still Minerva, just as they had been since first year. Only, something had changed, shifted, over the course of the summer. Or perhaps something had been shifting slowly all these years and Minerva was just beginning to realize the effects. Either way, she could not help but remember the butterflies, the blushing awkwardness. With a sigh and a shake of her head, Minerva cleaned her glasses on the hem of her skirt and retrieved her shoes. Changes or no, Slughorn would expect her to be on time for class. Minerva took in another moment of highland air and autumn sun, then trekked back up the hill toward the castle. With any luck, Alastor would have changed his mind and be waiting just inside the doors.