The Real McGonagall Chronicles

Minerva sat, alone, in a compartment. She enjoyed the peace, quiet. Minerva had no friends, just her and her wand. That was all. She heard a knock at the door. She sighed and said, "Come in." A handsome curly, brown-haired boy stuck his head in. "Erm...Uh, yeah, uh...Are there any seats available in this compartment...?" "Fine, fine." He nodded and pulled his trunk up and over, onto the rack. "I'm Horace, by the way. Horace Slughorn." he held out his hand, but she didn't acknowledge it. He looked it over to make sure nothing was wrong. "What's the matter with you?" "Hmmm?" "Is there something wrong with my hand?" "I..." she was startled by his gooseberry eyes staring intently at her. "No...That is...Uh..." "Well, why didn't you shake it then?" He held it out again, and this time she took it. "This your first time at Hogwarts, then? Me too." she had nodded at his question. "I see. I get you know. You're a quiet sort of person, like to read, and....judging by your appearence, admire Transfiguration, Am I correct?" She nodded, still looking out the window. "I'll describe myself. Cunning, Charming, I also love to read. I admire potions myself, but Charms are great, too. Not to mention that I'm modest." This time she slightly, only slightly, giggled. He laughed, too.

This is what Minerva recalled as she stood, a seventh year, in the dark, lashing rain, atop the short rail of the Astronomy tower. Her sister and mother had been killed, terribly so. She wanted to join them, to feel loved. To not feel this pain she was now.

Horace ran, dissmissing the cries of the caretaker, through the school. He gasped for breath as he reached the steps that led up to the Astronomy tower, skipping a stair as he ran. He cried out when he saw Minerva standing on the rail. "No, Minerva!" he called, pulling his beige coat closer to him and running towards her. She was crying, sobbing as she turned around. She fell into his arms, crying into his shoulder. "Minerva! Don' try to throw your life like that ever again!" He cried over the rain and wind, stroking her hair. "Why not!" she was still crying. "No one would miss me! No one at all!!" she continued sobbing. "That's not true, Minerva! That's not true!" he assured her. "I would, alright?!" he confessed. She stopped sobbing momentarily and looked down at him. "You...You would?" He nodded, looking up. "I..." she began.

Could this really be him? Could her best friend from her first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and now final year really be her one and true love? He had stopped her from killing herself, that was a good sign...But then again, anybody in their right mind would if they saw someone about to jump off a tower. Yet again he had stayed by her for no apparent reason, even when she had outgoingly rejected him as a friend in their first year. Yes, she thought, he is. Defintiely. Was he telling her now? She had remembered,the Yule ball for Christmas in their fourth year. No one had asked her, yet Horace did when he was sure no one else had. He had been very kind towards her, whilst everyone else but Poppy, Pomona, and him had avoided her.

"I..." she started again. "Thank You, Horace." "You're welcome, Minerva." Both of their hair soaked from the rain, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and hard. To her apparent surprise, he kissed her back. She embraced him, still crying, and he embraced her back. "Don't ever do that to me again, Minerva." He said, pulling his brown hat over his face and walking, a little drunken-looking, back down to his common room. She sighed and twirled around in the middle of the tower, feeling the rain and her robes swirling around her. "Horace Slughorn, that is perhaps the nicest thing you have ever said to me."