Chapter Six: Innocent

Minerva stared down at the piece of parchment she held in her hand:

"Miss McGonagall,

Please meet me in my office at 4 p.m. We will be joined by the Headmaster.

Professor Dumbledore."

There had certainly been a moment of panic upon opening this mail. She had, in fact, entered and left Albus's rooms at a most suspicious time of night, but that moment passed quickly on Minerva's part. No one knew she was an animagus. Not even the Fat Lady.

She smirked proudly at herself. Just as the portrait swung open upon her exit as a cat, the Fat Lady cooed before springing wide enough for her to enter upon her return. Why would animals need a password? This was a real flaw in the Hogwarts security system—maybe once she graduated she would bring it up.

So then what was this note?

Probably something to do with the goings-on of the castle. Maybe they had found something in her rooms last night to do with Helen. Of course it wasn't surprising that Ministry people came. The gravity of the situation was unclear, but students had died—of course the Ministry would have a necessary involvement. What Minerva disliked about their presence, however, was the way they invaded the seventh year room in search of clues. Her room was not only a disaster, but filled with strange women touching her things.

Minerva clicked her tongue in disgust.

She found her copy of Wuthering Heights open on her bed when she was allowed to return to the room at nine last night. That was unnecessary; completely unnecessary. She was, frankly, livid inside, but somehow she didn't think that anyone was interested in the corner of a page that was chipped off. There were more important things to worry about. It didn't stop her eye from twitching.

When she left last night for Albus's rooms, she was unsure that it was the right thing to do. Well, she knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but whether or not it was wrong enough for anyone to care was the question. She certainly was not the type of girl to go sneaking around in the middle of the night to men's rooms, but nothing about yesterday was normal. It was downright frightening; frightening and angering and emotional and…helpless. Merlin, she hated feeling helpless. And somehow Albus's arms made her feel…helpful. Or at least needed. And so she went to see him.

There was no part of her that regretted it.

A warm smile spread across her face. She had not been held before like she was last night. She had read about being held in men's arms, about feeling warm and at peace while in the company of another, but that was the first time she experienced it. It was nice. It was better than nice: it was cozy. Minerva was glad that she would be seeing him soon, now, even.

To hell with the headmaster. She had no fear so far as she and Albus were concerned. This meeting was about something to do with the school. It was about death and decisions and fear brought on by those two things.

And when it was over, Minerva expected to be held again.

The girl looked down at the parchment in her hand and folded it, and then lifted her head forward to the corridor entrance to Albus's office. It was nearly four. She hated to be too early. Or too late. So she chose to stand in the corridor until this moment.

She took a deep breath before walking to the door and knocking, leaving her hands at her side afterwards.

Albus was quick to answer, a fast, fond smile flashing across his lips before nodding. "Right on time. I can't say the same for the headmaster."

Minerva walked through the door far enough for Albus to close it behind her and turned.

His eyes were red, the blue disappearing behind the worry and his chin was peppered with long and short patches of red. It was getting to him, just as it all was getting to her. But she was glad to see that smile on his face: he was glad to have her nearby. And Minerva did not doubt that she wore her happiness on her sleeve in that moment as well. But it didn't stop what was most on her mind from leaving her lips, "What's happened, now?"

The man reached out tenderly and took her hand into his, his fingers sliding through hers and then squeezing for a moment. His head flicked up and bobbed, "When the headmaster arrives, he will be with an inspector from the Ministry. You will be questioned as a witness."

Minerva cocked her head to the side. She hadn't seen anything. How could she have? "A witness to what? We were beneath the school when it happened."

"Yes," he nodded gently, "but you were on site that incident a month ago."

She swallowed and furrowed her brow: ah. "You mean that to-do with Heinrich in the corridor?"

Albus let out a deep breath and bobbed his head. "Based on the evidence they've collected, it seems to be pertinent. And Armando has learned from his mistake, I think," Albus frowned. "Have you given memories before?"

Minerva blinked. "Given memories?"

Albus nodded, understanding by her tone that the answer was in the negative. "For a pensieve," he tried to smile but it only came out sad and tired.

She knew what a pensieve was; it derived from the French verb which meant 'to think'. And no doubt penser was derived from some Latin word that meant thinking or considering. How a collection of memories could come from this root was obvious enough. Her thoughts would be going into a bowl of thoughts, a pool of them. But not thoughts so much as reality, as memories. And someone wanted her memory of something that she had tried hard to forget.

Minerva's face had a stoical expression upon it. "How does one do it?"

"You remember; simple as that. And use your wand to pull it out. So long as the memory is given willingly, you've no need for a spell. The ministry official will provide you with a phial."

She blinked gently. There was no fear in her at all logistically—if Albus did not think it difficult, then it wouldn't be. What was a memory? It's not as though it was being stolen from her. Even if that were the case, she had no desire to keep the disturbing images that she kept. Minerva did not want to dwell on Heinrich or Hamish or war or death—

A loud knock fell on the door, soon followed by the Headmaster and a particularly small, thin man with a most unfashionable blue hat. Neither one of them looked pleased and Albus was even more cross, not having the right to open his own office door. The other gentlemen wouldn't have noticed it, but Albus's eye made several pronounced twitches as they came in. He did not hide his anger very well.

The Headmaster nodded at the peeved Albus and then looked at Minerva. "Good afternoon, Miss McGonagall. This is Inspector Ketman from the Ministry." Professor Dippet motioned behind him at the man who gave a wide smile and nod.

"Good afternoon, Miss McGonagall. I apologize for our tardiness. You understand that there are many goings-on at the moment here at Hogwarts. And of course that's why you're here." The funny little man motioned towards the seat designated for students as if the office was his own to order people about. Neither Albus nor the Headmaster moved as Minerva took her seat and Mr. Ketman took the seat usually reserved for Albus.

Minerva felt a present twinge of annoyance as this shrimp of a man sat down. He could have been twenty or eighty—there was something about his face that made him seem both ancient and youthful. Or maybe that was the hat. Or, maybe more likely, he had leprechaun blood in him. In any case, this leprechaun of a man was sitting in Albus's seat. "I understand that you witnessed an incident of sorts several weeks ago."

She nodded with a twitch of her own, "Yes. Three students attacked another, in what they called a harmlessprank."

Mr. Ketman raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. He no doubt already knew what he wanted from her. He did not need her to tell him what happened. He wanted to see it. "And do you feel that you remember this incident well, what you saw of it?"

The girl took a moment before nodding gently. "I do, but I did not see very much," Minerva swallowed. It's true. She only arrived after it was done. But there was more that she saw that no one else saw. And if there was some sort of conspiracy, some sort of plan that amounted to yesterday's incidents, she knew she could help. No one else knew what she knew. "If this has to do with Heinrich and Hamish, I," she paused, unsure how much information she ought to offer them, "I spoke to both of them not long after the incident. I think those memories may be of better use."

Mr. Ketman and the Headmaster exchanged glances. The little man leaned forward even more. He was very interested in what she had seen. "Why do you think that?"

Because they thought that Heinrich was at the center of this killing, that's why. Why else would they want to know about something that happened a month ago?

To be honest, Minerva wasn't sure what to think. They could very well be right. Her memory certainly would lean them in that direction. The girl swallowed, "I just have a feeling."

The man raised an eyebrow, a strange form of greed growing in his eyes. "Yes. We would like all you have to offer. Are you willing to share these memories?" Mr. Ketman reached in his outdated coat and retrieved an empty glass container. He pulled the stopper out and handed it to his witness.

Minerva looked down at it and then at the man's beady eyes, taking it from his hand. "I would."

"If you would dispense it, it would be of great use to those of us in this investigation."

She blinked, no less annoyed at this situation. All that she had to do was remember. Remember and then she could leave these two men that offered her only discomfort and a nagging desire to be unpleasant. She grasped her wand tightly and allowed her mind to travel back that month:

Students were crowded around the corridor, but it was quiet. Almost as though someone had died.

Minerva stood and stared as Professor Dumbledore helped Heinrich up, helped him to be free of those bonds and of the red slimy strands that covered his flesh.

Heinrich looked afraid, he looked beaten as only social exploitation could do to a teenager. He walked off with his head hung and Hamish protecting him. He had no wish to linger.

In the distance, there was the Headmaster speaking with the three boys. They, on the other hand, did not look ashamed. They looked proud, as though they had gotten away with it. Minerva could not hear the Headmaster, but there was no part of her that thought that they were receiving the reprimand they were entitled to. Why, it all looked fake, even.

And then her Head of House walked over to them.

Then the Headmaster met him.

And then left him.

Students were dispersed, but Minerva stood there, staring.

Albus Dumbledore looked livid.

She jumped a few hours in her mind to that evening on her way to the biweekly staff meeting:

"What exactly happened?" Minerva leaned in with a whisper as she walked down the hall next to Hamish Featherwaite from dinner. She knew he had been getting the question all day, but he, much like Minerva, was not inclined to share. But he would share with her. This would be the topic of the evening and it did not do to keep it a secret any longer. Best he tell her since they represented the student-body at the meeting.

The boy clicked his tongue as they walked, "I've been gathering bits and pieces all day. He couldn't really talk," Hamish lowered his voice, "he was extremely upset."

"And what did you learn?"

"Apparently some boys got a hold of Heinrich's wand and basically played keep-away until they got to the corridor. Then they got to him. Threw his wand on the ground and incapacitated him…and poured a can of sauerkraut they stole from the kitchen on him. Poor bloke."

Minerva swallowed sadly and nodded, "He didn't deserve that."

"No," Hamish shook his head.

"I still can't believe that Gryffindors would do something like that."

He looked at Minerva from the corner of his eye, "I hadn't noticed that. They were all Gryffindors, weren't they?"

The girl nodded, "Idiots. All of them."

They turned the corner and began walking up some stairs. Fourth floor was their destination, just as it always would be. "I can't deny that," he shook his head as he hopped up with sprightliness. "What do you think they'll do to those three?"

"If there's any justice in the world, send them off the second they turn fifteen. Let them go and fight if they want to. In the meantime, the Gryffindor team will be down two beaters and many house points, I'm sure. I'll be baffled if not."

Hamish added casually as they waited for the staircase to change, "I thought it was odd that there weren't any house points taken away."

Minerva looked at him out of the corner of her eye and nodded, "I think that's the Headmaster's doing. Maybe he wanted all the facts before acting. Wanted to avoid looking silly and all that."

Minerva swallowed to herself. She was purposefully leaving out the ends of these conversations. She spoke to Albus after the incident and she told Hamish about it. But she wanted no one to know any of this. She could only know what she saw. It would do nothing but hurt her Albus if the ministry knew that there was friction between him and the Headmaster…

Her thoughts turned to that day she found Heinrich in the library, before Albus carried her in his arms to the hospital wing…

Minerva approached his table and took a seat across from him. The boy glanced up with a keen eye. "I've been found," he said in an unsurprised voice.

"It helps when you know where to look," the girl nodded kindly.

He looked great, Heinrich. Minerva surveyed his face and was glad to see that his eyes were neither bloodshot nor bagged. He was not giving out free smiles, but she didn't expect him to. In his hands was Curses of the Catacombs of Rome. Minerva raised an eyebrow, "I see you were given our next paper assignment in Magical History."

Heinrich bobbed his head, "Professor Binns is nice. He understood, you know, me not wanting to go yesterday." He made eye contact with Minerva, his eyes begging to not get into it, "And Hamish gave me his notes to copy."

She tried to smile. They both knew why she sought him out. "If there is anything I can do for you," she swallowed with a nod, unsure of how to verbalize what she wanted to say without seeming offensive or condescending, "I would like to help."

"You don't need to trouble yourself," he shrugged, "I have some friends."

"And I am one of them."

The boy clicked his tongue and sighed, "I know. You've always been nice to me. You've always been nice to everyone."

Of course she had. There was no reason to treat anyone badly, none. "I have no reason to be mean." The girl paused, preparing herself to press on with her real motive for finding the boy, "Heinrich, did you receive an apology from those boys?"

"Course not," the boy shook his head and put the book down on the table. "Wouldn't want one, anyway. They're not sorry and I wouldn't want them to pretend to be."

"You don't know that. They could be."

Heinrich was unimpressed with Minerva's belief in the goodness of humanity and his face showed it. "They planned all of that. I don't think they're sorry. But it's fine," he nodded. "I'll be ready next time. And they won't be."

Minerva didn't care for that at all. She felt her stomach drop ever-so-slightly. "You think there will be more of this?"

"You know what sort of a world we live in," he nodded.

Yes, unfortunately, she did. Perhaps it was time to be sucked out of denial. "That doesn't mean that you should expect the worst."

"At least then I'll be ready."

"The war is out there, not in here."

The boy blinked and clicked his lips, "Wake up and smell the sauerkraut, McGonagall. I think you're nice, but you're too nice to see that sometimes people are bad and ideas are bad and we end up with nothing good. Optimism has gone out of fashion."

The girl stared and gave a slow nod, seeing quite clearly that there would be no talking to him and she certainly didn't care for being talked to like that. "Have a good day." With that, she stood up from the seat she had taken and proceeded to walk out of the library with her book bag at her side.

The girl took her wand to her skull and felt the piece of wood suck them from her head, as though it were the natural flow of a river. She placed her wand against the phial and watched as her thoughts were dispersed into it, looking as though they were clouds, trapped in glass. Minerva looked up at the man before her. "That's the lot of them."

Mr. Ketman looked from the phial and then back at Minerva, his weak little hand reaching out for it. The girl obliged by giving it to him and then retracted quickly.

"Thank you. It is quite likely that you will be called back again to extrapolate on these memories and perhaps share more. This information can and will be used as means of support for this case if we deem them useful."

"I understand," she nodded.

The inspector reached down beneath the desk and pulled up a piece of parchment from a bag that Minerva must have missed. He slid it towards Minerva. "If you would please sign this. It gives the Ministry the right to use it as evidence for this case." He handed her a quill.

Minerva blinked, her eyes stuck on this man whose demeanor reeked of back-handed barrister muck, and then slowly picked up the quill. Her eyes read over the fine print and then over the list of names of students that had already come and gone to offer information. She was the last of the seventh years—there weren't too many to keep track of anymore. Quickly, she scribbled down her signature and shoved the parchment back towards the man.

An indulgent smile spread across his lips and he stood up, his arm motioning towards the door. "You may go, Miss McGonagall."

The girl stood up and walked towards the door with relief, not bothering to look at the other two men in the room.

"McGonagall? Any relation to Braxton McGonagall?"

She placed her hand on the knob before turning around to face the threesome of men. She wasn't certain what that had to do with anything, but she didn't very much care why it was that he cared. "He's my father," she said simply.

"You must be proud to have such an upstanding soldier for a father."

Minerva blinked. She had no inclination to make small talk with this man. "I will always be proud of my father."

"He is the only reason we still have a stronghold in London. Surely you know that."

She blinked again. No, that was not the story she had heard, but she didn't want to get the details from him. "I am just happy that he is still alive. "

"And if he fell to defend our way of life?"

Minerva's eyes narrowed on this man, this man who had yet to see her memories, this man who seemed to think that everyone was a source of information. She was finished with people like that, people who seemed to have no compassion. What's more is that she did not care what he thought of politics, for that surely is where his mind was going. What was freedom if there was no family to share it with at the end? And she may very well lose her father to this war. It was not a thought on which she was keen. "Then I will have lost my only father. Am I excused?"

"You are," Mr. Ketman nodded. "Do have a nice day."

She feigned a smile and bobbed her head, "Thank you." With that, she opened the door, shut it behind her and immediately took a turn into Albus's study which no one in the whole world but them knew existed. Down the single step she walked and took a seat on the settee, her hands folding in her lap.

It was not her intention to listen in—she merely wanted to wait for Albus, but it was easy to listen. The magical barrier between rooms clearly did not affect sound. It was almost as though they were standing right next to her, these loathsome men:

"Thank you for your time," Mr. Ketman said.

"You will be returning to the Ministry?" The Headmaster asked.

"Yes. But fear not. I will return. There is much information to sift through and we all must come to an agreement on how to proceed. In the meantime, I would keep a very close watch on the students. You never know when something hidden is going to rupture in times like these."

And Minerva heard the door shut.

"Keep an eye on your three Gryffindors," the Headmaster stated, no doubt to Albus.

"Of course."

"I shall see you at supper. Good day."

The door opened and then shut again.

Minerva stood up and faced Albus's office entrance, her arms at her side.

The man walked through the fake wall as if on cue, not looking the least bit surprised to see his Minerva standing there. There was no pause in his step as he walked down the small stairs and planted a small kiss on her forehead before wrapping his arms around her, a gesture which she returned. He smelled of ashes, perhaps having slept by the fire overnight. She didn't blame him. She knew it took him much too long to find sleep last night.

When he released her, he nodded and let out a heavy breath. "You haven't slept, either."

She shook her head matter-of-factly, "No. I slept on the floor in the common room. No one sleeps well there."

"Were all the cushions taken?"

"Yes," she bobbed her head gently. "Half the tower slept in the common room last night."

"Have beds been burned, too?"

He may well have been trying to be funny, but his question was really quite poignant. The world was going to hell. "No one feels safe. And I certainly don't want to spend any time in the seventh year quarters. Ergo, the common room."

Albus nodded. "I was considering a small sleep here. Where no one would look to find me."

Minerva raised an eyebrow, sensing an invitation.

"Would you stay with me?" the man paused and then added quite simply, "Now?"

She quite liked his eyes right now. Bloodshot as they were, the plea was evident in them. She would not have turned him down, anyway, but it was nice to see how badly he wanted her presence. It was nice to know that she was not alone in that desire.

"Of course I will," she said softly.

A small smile spread over his lips as he took a side-step to the settee and threw his body unceremoniously upon it. Minerva let out an amused laugh before placing herself next to him, her back to his chest. No time was wasted on his part to wrap his warm arms around the girl.

He kissed the side of her neck softly, his breath already becoming heavy with sleep. "I didn't sleep a wink after you left."

"Too many things to think about, I imagine?" she asked softly, her own body quickly succumbing to the warmth and comfort of the room.

"Yes," he sighed. "You're not as warm as I remember."

Minerva let out a single chuckle. That was a non sequitur if ever there was one.

She felt plenty warm, but she did have his arms around her. Come to think of that, she did have his entire front-side to her. The girl blinked, suddenly aware in her own sleepy haze how inappropriate this position was; how close they were; how she could feel the soft bulge of his…and the thought was enough to send a tingle of hot fluid between her legs. She shifted her pelvis in an effort to quell the sensation, but quickly found that it had the opposite effect.

She closed her eyes in subtle frustration at herself. Minerva was finding out more and more that hormones didn't simply shut off the way that she wanted them to. They were like her damned emotions and didn't go away until they felt like it.

"Hm?" the man asked sleepily into her ear. "You're twitching."

"Sorry," she said gently. "Just trying to get comfortable."

"You're letting the cold air in." His open hand that was draped around her waist shifted down to her pelvis. "Come back." He pulled her gently back to him, sending hard fast waves of anxiety between her legs.

Minerva let out a frustrated sigh. It was not time to have those thoughts. It was time for sleep. But with his hand resting there, it was hard to think of anything else, to fathom the possibility of closing her eyes for any amount of time. But this was fixable. She need not be frustrated.

With her free hand, she reached down and slithered her fingers through his, bringing his hand up against her stomach once more.

The man squeezed her hand.

Minerva could feel the sleepy smile on his breath.

"I like this," he whispered softly.

She blinked and forced her eyes to shut gently, despite her racing heartbeat.

Albus sleepily kissed the side of her neck once more, his hot breath leaking to her collarbone. "You're very soft. I think I shall keep you."

A warm smile shifted across her face.

His mind was somewhere between sleep and reality. But she liked that he said it. She liked that he wanted her. She liked that he was holding her. And Minerva hoped that he would keep her. But in times like the ones they lived in, it was hard to know.

They would go unnoticed, Minerva knew.

She was not grateful for the death and the war, but she could not deny the opportunity it afforded them. It felt like it was meant to happen, whatever affair they had embarked on. She liked that it felt as though the universe was on her side, at least in this matter.

Perhaps in many matters, she thought quietly to herself. For the moment, she was very blessed. She still had her parents. She still had a home. She still had a sense of optimism. What more could she ask for?

Of course she could ask for Hamish back. Or Jez's brothers. Or Helen.

Minerva blinked as her throat tightened at the thought.

It was not that she was unaffected by these deaths. Frankly, if she allowed the loss to envelope her, she knew it would. So she simply didn't. Keeping things factual somehow helped. She would never see these people again. She didn't bother to assume that they had gone to a better place, but it certainly was somewhere else. The ground wasn't even a sufficient answer for some of those lost. So somewhere else it had to be and supposing more would only cause distress.

She allowed one heavy tear to fall along her face, not bothering to wipe it.

Instead, Minerva squeezed the hand of her professor whose breathing had already slowed and thickened. He was a little lost, Albus. The more time she spent with him, the more she noticed the sadness in him, the fear and regret. He had experienced much and yet no one seemed to know or care. What was one to do, being so lost?

Find a lover.

Isn't that what people did in books?

The woman closed her eyes.

It happened spontaneously, this union. It was not planned. But it was right. They already were lovers in a sense. They loved each other in an innocent sort of way, in a plain way. Even with the words being unspoken, she knew. And, perhaps, saying 'I love you' was tantamount to admitting wrong, to testifying against their chaste thoughts.

And her thoughts were not always chaste.

With a deep breath, Minerva took notice of herself again, her body resting snuggly against the man's. She liked his hands and lips and hips. She liked how it felt to sit on him, her legs parted at his waist. And she liked the idea of him touching her bare skin with his.

Lovers.

Minerva sighed.

Perhaps innocence had already gone.

R&R SVP. I'm so sorry there was so much space between updates.