Welcome to my first Harry Potter fanfiction! Yaaaaay! Just so you know, this is a time that I wish we could have three genres to categorize fanfics under…because this is really a Romance/Comedy/Drama. The mood tends to change quickly sometimes…I hope it's not a bad thing.
Disclaimer: As sad as I am to admit it, I don't own any of the characters or ideas of J.K. Rowling or any of the other copyrighted things I may mention. I do own the characters I created, which aren't in the first chapter anyway, so they don't matter right now. And another thing…be sure you've read Deathly Hallows before reading this…it could get confusing in later chapters.
And one other note (last one, I swear…): I came up with this story before I read book 7, which reminded me that the Potters died on Halloween, and told me it happened in the eighties. Well…that's not really how it works out here, so please forgive me. Enjoy!
Chapter 1August 31. The day before students return to Hogwarts, and also the last peaceful day at the castle. Teachers bustled about, getting supplies ready and hurriedly cleaning off extra copies of books and other assorted items. Minerva McGonagall was not among them, which was most unusual. She sat silently at her desk, head in hands. Her gaze rested on her bookshelf as she whistled a hollowly cheerful tune that was greatly contradicted by the glare she wore on her face. One would have thought she was about to hand out a punishment to a student.
After a while, the whistling was replaced by nearly incoherent mutterings to herself. "Still can't believe myself…" was heard the most often.
A sudden crash from outside the door woke her from her deep thought as an argument broke out between Professor Sprout and Filch.
"Look at all this dragon dung! Exactly how much had you been carrying?!"
Sighing, McGonagall ran to the door and quickly halted before stepping into any of Sprout's fertilizer, which had somehow been flung over a great portion of the surrounding hallway.
"Professor McGonagall! Look at this! And just after I cleaned this hallway!" Filch fumed, pointing at the dung-covered walls. "What am I supposed to do? Clean it up again, I guess—"
"ARGUS!" McGonagall snapped, creating a sudden silence. She took a deep breath before continuing. Even then, he could tell she was still frustrated. "No, I do not expect you to clean this up; Professor Sprout can do it with magic. And maybe you should, you know…cool it…for a moment since you've already cleaned every other part of the castle twenty times in the past three seconds! And you could probably take a break and maybe…" She picked up a few strands of his filthy hair with a slight look of disgust. "…take the extra time to…clean your hair. And that new cat of yours, too, she smells something terrible."
Sprout and Filch stared at her, mouths agape. McGonagall stared back, and shooed the stunned caretaker away. Professor Sprout took the opportunity to clean the mess up with a simple flick of her wand.
"Are you all right, Minerva?" she asked tentatively, bag of fertilizer in hand.
"What?" McGonagall said with a slight air of surprise. "Oh, yes, why do you ask?" Her voice was unusually high-pitched and she spoke faster than necessary.
"You seem a little…off," Sprout continued with trepidation. "Ever since last year's end of term feast—"
"What about it?"
Sprout set down the fertilizer and approached McGonagall, getting on her tiptoes in order for them to be eye-to-eye. "I saw Albus hug you," she whispered. "You haven't been right since."
McGonagall stared for a brief moment before turning away. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Sprout stomped her foot impatiently. "Give that attitude a rest, Minerva! You acting like some emotional adolescent!"
There was no response; McGonagall knew Sprout was dead on the money. Fortunately, the awkward silence did not last long. The main entrance doors opened suddenly and in walked (of all people) Albus Dumbledore.
"Afternoon, Pomona, Minerva," he nodded, seeing as both of his hands were each holding a half-eaten chocolate bar. He walked up to them, chewing a bite of one. "Muggles can make some delicious candy, you know. Try a bite!" He held one out, and McGonagall cautiously broke off a piece and ate it.
"Mmm…" she muttered, chewing with some difficulty. "What…what do they call this?"
Dumbledore smiled childishly. "A Snickers bar!"
There was a brief pause. "Why?" Sprout snorted. "I'm not laughing."
"Me neither," Dumbledore continued, his grin widening. "But there's the Muggle magic!"
"Really!" McGonagall said, swallowing her piece and attempting not to look so confused. She had a feeling she was failing miserably.
"Well, have a nice day, ladies. The all-faculty dinner's at seven, and I'd love for you two to join us!" He half-skipped off down the corridor, finishing up the candy in the meantime.
"Oho!" Sprout said quietly. "I think we both know what the password to his office will be this year, huh!" She giggled a bit, and elbowed her colleague. "Staring is rude, you know."
McGonagall quickly averted her gaze from the cheerful headmaster back to Sprout. "Right…terribly sorry, dear," she sighed. "Well…I've got to go fix …that thing…that broke…in my office. I'll see you later."
"Right," Sprout muttered, unconvinced. "Come to the greenhouses and visit once you're not so moody, all right?" She hoisted up the dragon dung bag and walked out the door.
With her hands over her eyes, McGonagall slowly dragged her way back into her office and around to her desk. Only one thought ran through her mind.
How…how could I have let myself fall in love with Albus?
X X XBack in her office, McGonagall sat behind her desk, mulling things over. Apparently her recent change in mood hadn't gone as unnoticed as she'd hoped. Even Sprout realized something was up, and she was usually one of the last to catch on. The thought worried her. If Sprout had noticed, did that mean Dumbledore had too?
Did it all really start at last year's end of term feast? She had always greatly admired Albus…but that seemingly innocent hug he gave her…she'd never felt that way before. It was like it had awakened some dormant emotion. And now that it wasn't hibernating, the last thing it was going to do was leave her alone.
And then after all that, she didn't see him until…that fateful night in Godric's Hollow. They had both been consumed with work for the Order, and then…
It was over. She'd left the orphaned Harry on the stoop of those awful Muggles. They had met alone that night in the nearly pitch-black alleyway of Privet Drive, and even in the complete darkness, McGonagall could see his face. There were so many emotions written on it…grief, fatigue, stress, but still the tiniest bit of relief that she could tell he was upset about feeling. The weak smile he had given her kept swimming into her vision at every chance it could, making her heart beat faster and her imagination go wild.
"Agh!" she groaned. "No no no no no no…" She slammed her head onto the desk and left it there, as if that would change the situation.
Time must've passed, because before long she heard multiple knocks at her door, asking her to come down to the Great Hall. Professor Sprout protested the loudest.
"MINERVA! It's 7:20, and I better see you down there in five minutes or I'm going to bust this door down myself and drag you down!"
McGonagall ignored her, and silence ensued.
"You know," Sprout said quietly, with concern. "You're really starting to worry me." And with that, McGonagall heard her footsteps die away.
She finally lifted her head and turned to her large picture window; the sun was just setting and it was casting a brilliant orange glow over the grounds. It was very relaxing.
"I was really hoping you'd join us, Minerva," said a voice at the door.
She slowly spun around and found the headmaster standing alone in the doorway. He wore a look of surprised disappointment as his gaze surveyed the office, finally resting on the slightly embarrassed McGonagall.
"I'm sorry, Albus…" She looked down, and her mind drew a blank on what else to say.
"Ah…but look! Look what Flitwick brought! And just in the spirit!" He reached in his pocket and brought out an item sort of in the shape of a Christmas popper, only it was decorated with the face of Lord Voldemort.
She took a moment to stare. "What in the world—" she wondered with a laugh.
Dumbledore held up one finger and promptly silenced her. "Watch." He pulled both ends and the popper-Voldemort gave a small scream as green and gold sparkles flew into the air. "I know you want to pop one, Minerva." He waved some of the paper remains in her face.
McGonagall finally stood up reluctantly. "I guess I am a bit hungry," she muttered.
"That's the spirit! It's not a party 'til Minerva McGonagall shows up, I always say!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, clapping her on the shoulder.
She could've sworn her heart jumped up to her throat and stayed there the entire way to the Great Hall. Dumbledore's hand was gripped to her shoulder, as if he was afraid that if he let go, she would fall, or run back to her office.
Upon their arrival, the other teachers greeted her more warmly than she would have normally expected. Sprout probably put them up to it, she thought, taking a seat next to Professor Sprout, who had kindly saved her a piece of the turkey.
"Filius nearly devoured the entire thing in less than a minute," she muttered in McGonagall's ear.
They both turned their gaze on the tiny Charms teacher, who was already unconscious from his immense turkey consumption. He gave a little burp and hopped right off his seat at the same time, landing on the stone floor with a thud. McGonagall and Sprout had to quickly cover up their laughter with a coughing fit.
Trying to hide a grin, Dumbledore pointed at Flitwick's empty chair. "Would someone like to pick him up off the floor, please?"
"I'll do it," said the professor next to Flitwick's spot with some contempt. And before anyone knew it, he was back in his seat looking a bit more awake.
"Wait a moment," McGonagall wondered aloud. "Is that you, Severus?"
Snape glared and refused to answer, so Dumbledore took the liberty of doing so for him. "Yes, Severus took up the Potions position."
"Wow," she said, then quickly went back to her turkey.
"I…brought some…cookies," Snape continued shortly. He held out a round-ish cookie clumsily decorated with icing to make Voldemort's face with little x's for eyes. "Muggle cookie spreadings can be most frustrating."
She took one with a giggle. "These are cute, Severus. I didn't know you baked!"
"If I can brew a potion, I can bake a cookie," he stated curtly.
The evening continued late into the night, fueled mainly by the many barrels of Madam Rosmerta's butterbeer. Everyone was having a ball with the many assorted party favors that had a distinct "Voldemort is gone" theme. The professors got louder and louder as time passed and more empty bottles piled up at the large table. McGonagall was one of the loudest ones present, only surpassed in volume when Snape yelled after getting hit in the face with a very overstuffed cream puff. Sprout seemed to be pleased that her friend was acting somewhat more normal.
But the festivities eventually had to end, seeing as students were arriving the following night. Each professor slowly made their ways back to their respective offices, some a bit more sober than others. Snape was the worst off; he zig-zagged back to his dungeon office, picking stray bits of cream out of his hair (he didn't trust himself in his state to attempt to use his wand on his face).
"You wait up," Sprout said as the crowd thinned, grabbing McGonagall's wrist. "Come talk to me in the greenhouses."
"But Pomona…" McGonagall yawned. "It's got to be at least two in the morning, and students are coming tomorrow—"
"Oh, not 'til that night, and besides, a nap tomorrow afternoon might do you some good! Come on!" Her relentless grip dragged McGonagall outside and past the vegetable garden. "And anyways, after tomorrow we really won't have the time to talk in private, with term starting and all." Sprout opened the door to Greenhouse One, and they sat, exhausted, down on two stools near an empty pot. "Tell me everything."
McGonagall looked at her friend with indecision and debated with herself on what to confide. "There's…not much to know." She could see Sprout raising her eyebrows, unconvinced, out of the corner of her eye. "I mean, really…what else is there? I know you've figured out my end of the whole situation."
This sent Sprout into deep thought, absently chewing her tongue in the process. "I see what you're saying," she admitted. "But I may have figured out his end as well—"
"What?"
A sly smile crept across Sprout's face at her reaction. "Well, yeah. You wouldn't know of course, since you weren't there for the first twenty minutes of the party." She took a dramatic pause. "He looked so sad. He was the one who kept sending people to go knock on your door."
The information Sprout was relaying made McGonagall's heart knock against her ribs. (A/N: That last bit was kind of from Macbeth, I always loved the way it was worded.) "R-really?"
"Would I lie to you?"
McGonagall grimaced, picking at her thumbnail. "Well, I best be going. I feel a bit…"
"Emotionally drained?"
She shrugged in response and made her way to the door. "See you tomorrow, then, Pomona."
The entire way back to the castle, McGonagall was thankful to be alone again, and away from Sprout's questioning, no matter how good intentioned it had been. Part of her hoped that what her friend had said was true, but the other half was fearful about getting her hopes up too high.
Exhausted, she shuffled into her office and quickly Transfigured her desk chair into fully made twin sized bed. "There we go." Too tired to even get into a night robe, she sank into the fluffy down mattress and was about to resign herself to a fitful night of sleep when something caught her eye.
A single piece of parchment lay on her desk. I don't remember this being here before the party…Curious despite her fatigue, she grasped the small note and read its single line, written in handwriting that was all too familiar.
Glad to see you're feeling better.
-Albus
McGonagall slipped the parchment into a pocket inside her robes, knowing she would sleep well that night.
X X XHope you liked it! I'll try to update soon, but band camp's been eating my life, and by the time I get home my brain is fried from being in the sun so long. And I need to finish my summer reading…oh well. Don't forget to review!