Author's Note: It seems I suffer from something I am terming Post-update Angst-driven Clarity (PAC). This means that only AFTER something is posted do I realize there is a need to change or add to it. This happened in the last chapter where Severus calls Min his Perfect Minerva. After the story was up a little bit I realized this sounded soppy if not explained as a biting little nickname that she had gotten at Hogwarts. So, this is a caveat that if you are the first to read a chapter, you may be reading things before my PAC sets in to help fix things. What a learning experience this has been for me, the first time writer. Thank you so much for sticking with me and encouraging me.
Severus sat in the side room, a small stack of books on the ottoman in front of him. He was scribbling in the margins of a manual when he heard Minerva come in the front door.
She had gone up to the main house that morning to help Asha and Niall, as she had for part of every day recently. The small clinic was at capacity with the new cases that the defeat of Voldemort had brought them. There was a similar strain on healers at St. Mungo's, she knew. The work was not hard physically. Emotionally, however, she found it difficult to be with the patients. For most, all Niall and Asha could do was make them comfortable. Many were comatose, victims of curses that had damaged them as the Crutiatus had the Longbottoms. The children were another matter. Often healers could find nothing wrong with them, but they were unable to stay with their families because of their problems.
"Zoe asked about you today, Feste," Minerva said, smiling as she walked into the room. "She knows you and I are 'friends.' I guess she is doing better, still jumping every chance she gets, though. But, it's an improvement over the uncontrollable magic that she was prone to at first."
"How did she end up here?" Severus asked as he closed his book.
"There was just nowhere else for her. It's like that with a few cases. Sometimes their families find them frightening or unpredictable and are unable to care for them. Niall and Asha give them potions that are calming, or that cleanse their systems. They are checked for hexes and curses, obviously. None of this is foolproof though. Its frustrating work, I can see that." She placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, "What have you been up to?"
"Reading."
"Yes. Obviously," she said looking at the book in his lap. "So, love," she told him, "It's been two weeks. You need to figure out what you want to do." He rolled his eyes at her, but she was undaunted. "I'm not telling you to run out and solve the world's problems," she continued. "Just figure out where you want to go, what you want to do. You are not the type to sit here in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do. Unless you are telling me that this is where you want to be?" she said skeptically.
And she walked out.
She's right, he thought. Staying here is a mistake. But not for the reasons she is thinking. How can we live here in this cottage when her son is just up the road? Minerva has to be uncomfortable about it and it is going to drive Niall to distraction.
He considered things for a long time as he stared out the windows, his eyes on the mountains in the distance. Finally, he went looking for Minerva. She was not in the cottage and there was only the one out building, an old shack - a barn, if one was being particularly generous. He could see the door was open and he smiled, looking forward to finding her in there.
There were objects hanging from dozens upon dozens of hooks on the walls: old brooms, horse harnesses, a bicycle, garden implements and things he could not even begin to identify due to their age and the dim light inside. He picked his way through the clutter.
"Minerva," he called softly.
"I'm back here," he heard her say. He lifted his wand and silently commanded, "Lumos!" casting a gentle light. Then he saw her, hands on her hips, facing away from him. She was surveying the piles of objects on the work bench in front of her. He smiled to himself and closed the distance between them quickly so that he could wrap his arms around her from behind. She treated his embrace as a greeting and was surprised when he did not eventually release her. Instead, he began to kiss at her neck.
"What's gotten in to you?" she asked.
"I've been thinking," he breathed into her ear.
"Hmmmm," was all she managed dreamily.
His attentions began to change. Long powerful hands wandered from safe places to spots sure to entice her.
"Please," he said as he kissed her neck. And then, "Please," again, a touch of urgency rising in him. 'Please,' what a delicious word, she thought, coming from the dreaded potions master of Hogwarts.
"Tell me, Severus. What is it you want?" she teased in a low voice.
His hand traced down her side, gathering up bunches of her skirt until he was under the hem. He ran his hand up her thigh and said, finally, "You."
She moaned, but did not relent. "Oh, certainly," she answered in a business-like tone. "I can see that. It's been hours."
As he pressed against her, she needed to brace herself against the work bench. When his tongue travelled her neck, she was glad for something solid to hold onto. "Oh, Merlin," she cried out as she registered the hardness against her.
She turned in his arms to kiss him. But he broke off the kiss. She had no time to process her annoyance. His hands moved quickly to her hips and he lifted her up and sat her on the bench. The strength in his hands as he squeezed her thighs summoned something primitive in her. She pulled him in by the shirt front without thinking.
And she kissed him. Hard.
Merlin, he thought. The way this woman loved him, wanted him, fought with him, bested him. No other woman could incite him like this. So completely. So fast.
She moved her lips to his ear. "I don't want you to go." Wrapping her leg around his hip, she pulled him in, trying to pretend she meant just here and now.
And somehow it all made perfect sense that his emotions had busted open. "I love you," he told her. "I'm not going to go."
And then her hands were on his waistband, tugging him in, flicking open the buttons.
Later they sat out in the sun on a low, flat boulder, despite the chill to the air. Both of them looking at the old building they had just left. Then, Severus lay back and closed his eyes, tilting his face up to the warmth of the afternoon sunlight. As he replayed the sensations of their tryst, a small smile began to pull at the edges of his mouth. She watched him, knowing what he was thinking. She reclined by his side and whispered playfully, "Yes, well done, Severus. But was it really necessary to Vanish my knickers?"
"Hmmmm?" was all he managed still smiling. Finally he said, "I've been thinking."
"God, no. Severus. That's how this all started," she kidded.
"You did ask me to think about what I wanted to do and I've made a list. Number one: Sex some place exotic. Check."
"Ugh. Severus. That is a barn," she complained.
"I'll put that back on the list then." He opened his eyes quickly to see if this got him a response before he closed them again. "Two: Travel. That could help with number one," he told her impishly. Opening his eyes, he sat up and tugged at his coat to get comfortable. "And while we travel, I will solidify the ideas I have about potions work. I want to research potions directed at nerve problems."
Her look changed. "Yes," he said a little sardonically. "I did actually think about this. I want to be with you, but this proximity to Niall is a bit much for the two of you, understandably. We need to get away for a bit. And some place warm. You may call this spring, but I am not convinced."
"My mother never liked the climate here, either. I wasn't surprised when she moved to France after my father died," Minerva said. She paused a long while before she continued, "I haven't told her about you," she said softly. "Well, not recently. She wants us to visit. That's why she's on my mind, actually. She owled Niall today."
Severus stood up and helped her to her feet. There was a strange look on his face.
"What's bothering you, Severus?"
"Sons, mothers. All this family," he told her simply. "It is a lot for someone like me."
"I won't lie to you. My mother is a lot for anyone. But if you are up for travel we may as well go see her." She hugged her cloak to her, more because of the topic than the weather. "I will not hear the end of it if I don't. It won't take but an hour or two for her to throw us out, anyway."
