A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to other people. I will continue to write and enjoy my fandom even if its creator is now Undesirable No. 1 in her own community. I see all the members of my fandom, regardless of your race or nationality or sexuality or gender identity. I see you all and I value you. You are all integral parts of my life.
This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Please, let me know.
This chapter is dedicated to a dear friend who passed away. Q was a fellow MMHG writer and fan, and I'm so blessed to have gotten to know her before her untimely and unexpected passing. This one's for you, Q. RIP, Willowezra. We miss you.
=========MM/HG=========
As she had done after Harry's wedding the month before, Hermione woke early the morning following Neville and Ginny's wedding. Her mind was spinning in many directions, thoughts flitting between Minerva's behavior the day before, the Pensieve that she had handed over to Padma a few days ago, and her need to find a way to acquire said memory device at some point in the past.
The past... she'd not made her trip to the past following her meeting with Minerva the previous Sunday, not wanting to take her suspicions about Rolanda and her subsequent foul mood with her, but now that she was no longer feeling the painful burn in her heart as strongly, she thought the best way to get her mind back in a better place was to go ahead and make her trip to 1949, and finally be able to hand off the cottage to Min and alleviate some of her fears over what she was to do and where she was to go following the end of her Mastery program and Albus' patronage.
Her eyes brightened at the thought of spending time with her Min, and scrubbing at them with her hands, she got out of bed and prepared her bag. Wand exchanged, bag tucked into her pocket, glamours applied, and crystal around her neck, she disappeared from her flat, not seeing the glowing stag prancing its way through the wall and into her living room.
=========MM/HG=========
The cottage was perfect. It was exactly the way she'd envisioned it upon seeing it the first time. There were a few staple items in the kitchen, and a good stock of firewood outside, but the place was otherwise completely bare. She couldn't wait to show Minerva, Morgan thought with a wide grin.
A loud crack later, the cottage was empty, and she was miles away in London. She'd apparated into Diagon Alley, and deciding to get one task taken care of straightaway, she made her way to Gringotts.
Waiting in her customary meeting room, Morgan sat in the comfortable wing-back chair and savored a well-brewed cup of tea, having forgotten to make any before leaving her flat.
"Master Ragnok," Morgan greeted her friend as he entered, putting her empty cup down. "Good morning to you! I trust that you are well?"
He bowed before taking the seat across from her. "I am, indeed, Madam Stewart, and a good morning to you as well. How may I be of assistance today?"
"I was wondering if you might know where I may find a Pensieve for sale. Such an antiquity is proving quite elusive to find, but I need to acquire one."
The goblin cocked his head to the side curiously as he looked at her. "A Pensieve, Madam Stewart?"
She nodded and reached to pour another cup of tea.
"That is a rare and costly artifact," he mused aloud. "I am not certain I have seen one available in many years."
Her brows furrowed. "There must be someone somewhere willing to part with one for the right sum."
"Normally, I would agree with you, Madam, but such an item is normally handed down as a family heirloom for generations, and even in a case where an old family line ends, it is often left to someone in particular. They rarely make it to the open market."
She was disappointed, but knew that she would find one at some point, as it existed in the future and therefore must exist somewhere in the past.
"If you hear of one for sale at any point, will you endeavor to purchase it for me, at whatever cost I can feasibly afford?" It was not an unreasonable request to make of someone in his line of business.
He nodded solemnly. "Of course, Madam. I shall keep my eyes and ears open for you."
Her smile brightened and the crease left her brow. "I knew I could count on you, Master Ragnok!"
Her trust in him was nearly enough to make the old goblin blush, but he maintained control of his emotions. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
"As a matter of fact," she began, pulling out a roll of parchment from her bag, "I have a few businesses into which I would like to invest – anonymously of course – and I was hoping you could take care of the funds transfers and appropriate contracts if I appoint you as my proxy."
He took the parchment and skimmed its contents. "I would be happy to make any investments you would like, naturally, but are you sure of the companies you have listed? A couple of these are," he tilted his free hand from side to side a few times, "hmm, more than a bit risky and questionable."
"I have absolute confidence in the investments I have chosen."
"If you are certain, then you have nothing to fear. The investments will be made, and I shall personally ensure that all the contracts are ironclad." The grin on his face as he made the promise to her would be disturbing to see on a human face; it was even more so on his goblin features. She had no doubt that the investments would pay off, given her inside information from the future, and with Ragnok in charge, her not-insignificant wealth would only continue to grow over the next fifty years.
"Thank you, my friend," she said, smiling genuinely. "I have every faith in your abilities."
This time, he could not keep his cheeks from showing a small spot of color. "You are welcome, Madam. I am, as always, at your service." He stood and extended his hand.
She also stood and gripped it tightly, the handshake strong and firm. A twinge in her side gave her a momentary pause before continuing her conversation. "I have only one more item of business, but it will be a quick one." The pair started for the door. "I just need to make a withdrawal in both galleons and muggle pounds. The cottage I purchased for Miss McGonagall is ready, and we will need to purchase furnishings and so forth."
He nodded and opened the door, gesturing for her to go first. "Any of our tellers at the front will be able to assist you with that task. I shall go get started on your investment list immediately."
She took a couple of steps before his voice stopped her.
"And Madam?"
"Yes, Master Ragnok?" She turned to face him once again.
"Congratulations to both you and Miss McGonagall. I wish you both all the best in your life together."
"Thank you." Her voice was warm. "I likewise wish the same for you and your family."
With that, she turned again, and headed back to the front of the bank. After stopping to make her withdrawals, she stepped out of the bank with only one destination in mind. Minerva.
=========MM/HG=========
Morgan apparated into Minerva's spare bedroom expecting the peace and silence that was the norm in her flat, but was instead greeted with the sounds of seeming chaos. She quickly stowed her bag and stepped into the living room to see belongings being whisked from one location to another, some shrunken, some not, and various pieces of furniture hurtling along in midair, likewise being relocated.
Min was standing off to one side, her back turned to Morgan, her wand moving furiously as she directed the chaos. At the sound of the bedroom door closing, she spun around in surprise, putting her non-wand hand at her heaving chest, and with her concentration broken, everything hit the floor with a cacophony of bangs and crashes.
The little hairs around her face were curled and damp, the skin of her face red and flushed, her eyes uncommonly bright, and she was visibly sweating from the exertion of trying to pack and move on her own. A dumbfounded smile on her face, Morgan couldn't help but think that she was beautiful. The only time she'd seen her look lovelier in a similar state was when they were wrapped around each other in bed.
"Morgan," Minerva bit out in frustration, body relaxing a bit from its work pose. "At least you made it back before I moved out."
"By when must you leave?"
"Tomorrow! I have to be out of here tomorrow, and I haven't a bloody damn clue where I'm to go other than back home to Mum and Dad, because I have no means to currently support myself, and I'm still waiting to hear back from the Ministry about whether or not I have gained employment."
Morgan tried very hard to hide her inner pleasure that Minerva hadn't yet found somewhere else to live. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I have a lot of packing and cleaning to do today. We can start with that." Minerva turned back around and raised her wand in preparation for getting back to work.
Morgan strode forward until she was within reach, and pulled Minerva back against her body, hugging her tightly from behind, arms around her waist and face pressed to her back. "I love you, too, Min, and I'll be happy to help you pack."
The stern look on Minerva's face melted a little, her eyes softening and one side of her mouth tilting up into a half-smile. "Of course I love you. I'm simply frustrated and stressed and busy, and…." she hissed a breath in. She raised her hand and playfully slapped at Morgan's fingers, which were splayed over her belly. "We don't have time for that right now."
One final squeeze, and Morgan stepped back. "If you insist. Where shall I begin?"
=========MM/HG=========
An hour later, everything was shrunken and packed and put away, the flat was sparkling clean, and the two witches sat on the floor, backs against a bare wall.
"Thank you for showing up today," Min said as she laid her head over onto Morgan's shoulder.
"I'd have come days ago if I had known the timing was this tight," Morgan replied.
Minerva sighed deeply. "It wasn't meant to be, but my landlord has another tenant lined up and something happened that they needed it more quickly than anticipated, so he asked if there was any way I could vacate ahead of schedule."
"I see. And of course, since you hadn't planned on leaving this early, you haven't been able to find another place yet."
Minerva nodded with a yawn. "I had thought about simply going back home. It'll give me time to wait to hear back from the Ministry regarding my employment, and once that's taken care of, I'll have a better idea what I can even afford." She tilted her head back and looked up at her lover. "However, with you back, it's not my grandest desire to live in a place where we have to hide who and what we are."
Morgan hummed thoughtfully. "I do know of a possible solution, but you would have to trust me."
Min's head shot up. "Of course I trust you, but why…?"
She smiled enigmatically. "I can't tell you that. Hence the trust part." Morgan stood and offered her hands to help Minerva to her feet. Green eyes narrowed at her.
"If you insist, although I'll have you know I'm not fond of surprises, generally speaking."
"I think you'll like this one, but I shall keep that in mind for the future." Morgan grinned at her. "Are you ready?"
Minerva took a final look around her soon-to-be former flat. "Aye."
Several minutes later, Min had taken the key down to her landlord and bid him farewell. Whilst she had been busy with that, Morgan had swept through the flat and made sure that they were leaving no magical evidence behind. She shoved Min's boxes into her beaded bag and tucked that under her arm. Magically locking the door behind them, she took Minerva by the arm and disapparated.
=========MM/HG=========
She looked at the wind-swept yard, the loch not far away, the trees between the water's edge and the cottage and at the cabin itself and couldn't speak. Her mind registered that Morgan was rattling on about this, that, and the other as she was pulled in through the front door into the most charming cottage she had ever seen, but she was unable to comprehend the words. The central triangular room with its fire-pit and chimney in the center, the three sections leading off of it to form the kitchen and dining area, the library – she had a library! – and the bedroom with its attached bathroom were all devoid of furnishings, but her mind's eye saw each room exactly the way she wanted them.
She had hoped for months for a solution to her housing situation, wishing somewhere deep inside for Morgan to show up and whisk her away to something, even though she longed to be able to situate her life for herself, but she'd never thought about anything so utterly perfect; never even dared to hope for anything even half so much what she wanted.
Her heart had been beating frantically all day under the stress of moving and worrying about Morgan getting in trouble for apparating into a Muggle flat, not realizing that Minerva was no longer there, and here, with the smell of the distant heather rolling through the open windows on a breeze and the sound of the loch's waves gently lapping against the gravel shore, it finally settled back into its regular rhythm and pace.
She felt the warmth of Morgan behind her as she stood looking out the kitchen window, and she finally realized that her lover had ceased talking. Without a word of her own, she spun around and reached up to gently pull Morgan's face closer to her own, leaning down to kiss her while a salty tear trailed its way down her cheek.
Min couldn't process her thoughts as words in that moment, and so chose to instead offer her thanks with hugs and kisses and tears. Clothing was peeled away along with the last of Minerva's stress and worry. She hadn't seen a bed in the bedroom, but who needed a bed anyway? The floor, lined with their discarded cloaks, would suffice quite well enough. She simply needed to express her gratitude to her partner for the best, most perfect gifts she could have been given that day: her partner back in her life for at least a couple of weeks, and a place for them to live where she wasn't reliant on her parents and subject to their rules.
It was only later, as they lay there in a tangled heap, that doubt once again entered her mind. She raised her head to look at Morgan, asking, "It is ours, isn't it? Nobody's coming to tell us we can't have it?"
Her face reddened a bit as Morgan chuckled in response. "No, darling. It belongs to me, although there are papers for us to sign to transfer ownership to you in case anything is ever put into question with my long absences. The ward-lines are drawn and ready for the Fidelius to be cast with yourself as the secret-keeper so that this is a safe haven for you, where nobody can enter without your express permission."
"How on earth did you manage all this? You only just found out I had to move today, well … today."
Morgan smiled softly. "I bought it two years ago. No, I wasn't aware that you had to move so quickly until I showed up earlier, but I did know that your Apprenticeship would be up this year and that you would likely be needing somewhere besides your parents' house to live."
"You didn't think me capable of finding something myself?" Minerva sounded miffed at the idea.
"Of course I think you're perfectly capable. I simply wasn't sure you would have time between studies and exams and your final projects. I remember what that stage of the Mastery process was like, and I barely had time to ensure my hair was washed, much less enough to try and find a new living situation." Morgan reached a hand up to smooth some falling strands of hair back behind Minerva's ear, leaving it cupped around her cheek once she was done. "I think you can do anything in the world you want if you put your mind to it, love. I simply thought to take one stressful item off your plate."
She smiled up, her gaze drowning in the crystalline green depths of Minerva's eyes. "Do you hate it that much then?"
Minerva covered smirking lips with her own, fusing them together until there was no more smirk to be had. "I love it, Morgan. It's exactly what I wanted but couldn't even envision finding. However did you manage it?"
The damned smirk appeared again. "Isobel. I asked your mother to help me."
"Mum? Mum helped you?"
"She found the cottage and arranged all the work that's been done to it since I purchased the property two years ago."
"That… that… sneak!"
=========MM/HG=========
For once, Minerva was determined not to worry about how much money Morgan was spending on her. She'd been told to enjoy furnishing their cottage, and that's what she was going to do.
Even if it killed her.
The couple had spent the day shopping. The kitchen was now outfitted with a full set of everything she could imagine ever needing. There was furniture in the living room, and paintings on the walls. The bedroom was occupied by a large, exceedingly comfortable bed and matching side tables. The library – she still couldn't believe she owned a house with her own private library inside – had a few shelves that were filled with her private collection and several new books and texts she had picked up, muggle and magical alike. She had never spent so much at Flourish and Blott's! She had put on her best brave face when the clerk had rung up the purchase, but she'd audibly gulped a breath as her heart skipped a few beats when she saw how many galleons Morgan pushed across the counter.
She didn't want to feel guilty, but a lifetime of scrimping and saving to purchase just one new thick, heavy tome had her determination against worry wavering at the ten that she'd carried out of the store.
…But they looked so nice arranged on the shelves.
Morgan had told her to make the house a home. It would take more than furniture and dishes and books to do that; that was something only time and effort could bring, but it at least looked and felt homely.
=========MM/HG=========
Morgan had been back a couple of days, and the cottage was mostly settled, so of course it was time for guests. Malcom and Rob were set to come for dinner, and Morgan was bustling around the kitchen, preparing the meal. Minerva was sitting at the small dining table with a glass of wine, watching the liquid as she swirled it around in the glass.
"Morgan?" She spoke softly.
"Yes, Min?" Morgan stopped briefly to give her lover her attention.
"Does the cottage have a name?"
Morgan blinked a couple of times as she thought. "I think I remember seeing something on the paperwork, but I honestly don't remember what it might have been." Hearing the light tinkle of an alarm, she turned back to her work. "Why?"
Minerva took a sip of her wine, savoring the flavor before swallowing. "No reason, really. It just seems like a cottage that would have a name. It's fairly common out here."
"You're welcome to look at the paperwork. It should be in my desk in the library."
She stood and moved to press a quick kiss to Morgan's cheek, avoiding the various kitchen tools as they moved on their own at Morgan's spell-commands. "I think I will."
A moment later, she returned with a sheaf of papers. "It does have a name. Beucaidh Cottage."
"Be a car? What?"
Minerva looked up at her lover sharply, eyebrow arched. "Not be a car, Beucaidh." The Gaelic rolled easily off her tongue. "It does sound a bit similar, but it's not quite the same thing."
"Beucaidh." Morgan tested the word again, coming closer to the correct pronunciation. "It's a beautiful word. What does it mean?"
Minerva cocked her head slightly to one side as she thought. "Will roar or shall roar, if my memory serves."
Morgan laughed. "That fits you then, Min, my roaring Gryffindor."
Green eyes rolled back into their sockets briefly. "I was nearly a Ravenclaw, you know. The hat couldn't decide between the two, so it made me choose."
"Hm, interesting. Can Eagles roar?"
Minerva's lips pursed, clearly not as amused as Morgan at the turn their conversation was taking.
Morgan's laughter bubbled louder as she noticed Minerva's reaction to the dig, but then quieted somewhat as she recognized the look she was receiving. She and Harry and Ron had gotten that look often enough from Professor McGonagall in school. The only thing missing was her eyeglasses, but the angle of Min's head was such that if only she had the spectacles, she would be looking over them right now. She stopped laughing, but still had a smirk on her lips.
"It's a terrible thing, you know, Min, to have you annoyed with me and looking so adorable at the same time."
Minerva rolled her eyes again as she sat back in her seat at the table, tossing the papers carelessly onto the surface and reaching for her wineglass. "You are incorrigible," she bit out before taking another sip of the dark red liquid.
"You love me!" Morgan almost sang the phrase as she put the finishing touches on dinner. Wiping her hands clean, she came around the island and leaned down to kiss Minerva's cheek.
Minerva sighed lightly, lips curling upward. "Aye," she replied. "I do that."
"And I love you, too."
The two worked together in silence for a moment, clearing the papers from table so it could be cleaned and set for dinner. As she returned from putting away the house deeds, Minerva's voice broke the silence.
"Does Beauxbatons sort the way Hogwarts does?" Minerva reached into a drawer to retrieve the wooden silver case.
The question startled Morgan, who had just cast a cleansing charm on the tabletop. "That's random." She gave Minerva a quizzical glance as she spread the tablecloth over the gleaming wooden surface.
"Well, a minute ago, you called me your roaring Gryffindor and then referenced the Ravenclaw mascot. I was wondering if there was some similar correlation where you were educated." She began placing the silver around where the plates would be.
"Ah, I see," Morgan replied, nodding. Thankful she'd done her research on the French school, she continued working with Minerva to set the table. "No, there were no traditional house mascots or rivalries. We were each sent in groups to different dormitories for sleeping, but there was no guarantee you would end up in classes or meals with anyone with whom you shared a room. It was all so much more free form than what I hear of Hogwarts."
Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder how you would have sorted had you gone to school with me."
Morgan thought back on her own sorting and the nervousness she'd felt when the hat had been placed on her head. Her eyes had briefly passed over each of the four tables as the hat deliberated.
"You would be well-suited for any of the houses, but Slytherin would never accept your Muggle blood, no matter how cunning and ambitious you are. You would be swallowed up in Hufflepuff amongst those who crave the work and friendship but care very little for renown and distinguishment. I can see your studiousness and intellect, and Ravenclaw would be a very good fit for you, but I sense a determination to use your knowledge for more than simply knowing, and the courage to put all that knowledge to proper use. It really must just be then… You'll do best in GRYFFINDOR!"
She'd been very proud that it had chosen her for such an accomplished house, and had jumped down from the stool, noting the look of approval on the Deputy's face as she'd shooed young Hermione Granger to join her fellows at the proper table before calling out the next name on the long parchment in her hand.
"I'm not sure, darling. What do you think?" Morgan placed the napkins and cast her eyes over the table, nodding in satisfaction at the finished job.
"I'm not sure, either. I could see you in any, although you're nowhere near as snotty as the Slytherins who were in school with me – Rob excepted, of course. The Head Boy the year after I left school was particularly bad." She shook her head slightly thinking about the boy, well, man in question.
Morgan laughed quietly. "Was he terrible?"
"He was!" Minerva exclaimed. "And he wasn't even a Pureblood! We were all surprised someone who wasn't from one of the old families was even sorted to Slytherin house, let alone a half-blood orphan who grew up as a Muggle. Were it not for Mum's family, we would have been more surprised that Rob was sorted there."
The laugh died on Morgan's lips as the pieces clicked together in her mind. She'd forgotten that Minerva had gone to school with the future Dark Lord for six years.
"He certainly thought well of himself though, and so did most of the rest of the school, professors included. Professor Slughorn was particularly fond of him. I could see what they all saw in him, but he always struck me as someone pretending to be better than his capabilities. As I said … snotty."
"Ol' Sluggy thought someone was snottier than himself?" Rob questioned as he swooped through the front door with a dramatic flair. "Tell me it ain't so!"
"Rob, be more respectful toward your Head of House," Malcolm snipped as he entered behind his brother, bringing with him a bottle of wine.
"Former Head of House," corrected Rob, puffing his chest out in pride. "I am officially no longer a Hogwarts student!"
Morgan smiled and accepted the bottle of wine and a kiss on the cheek from Malcolm before turning to Rob.
"Congratulations! I hear you were Quidditch Captain for your seventh year." She found herself engulfed in a smothering hug a second later before Rob moved to stand beside her, arm resting around her shoulders.
"I was! And we got the cup! I beat the pants off that ponce Brown, and I did it on Mum's old Silver Arrow while he had the newest Cleansweep. I sort of felt bad for poor Shacklebolt, having to partner up with Brown as the Hufflepuff beaters, but I do have some House pride, you know. And to do it with a thirty-year old broom!"
Morgan straightened her hair and peeled Rob's arm off, letting it drop back to his side and leaning in to kiss his cheek.
"If anyone could play that well on a broom that old, it'd be you," Minerva praised her brother and his Quidditch abilities, watching as his cheeks colored a bit in response.
Rolling his eyes at his siblings, Malcolm changed the subject away from Quidditch. "What's for dinner, Morgan? Whatever it is smells amazing."
At the prompting, dinner was put on the table, the wine was opened and poured, and they all sat to eat, conversation flowing easily. The entrée, a rich boeuf bourguignon paired with the red wine that Malcolm had brought and a crusty loaf of bread Morgan had baked earlier in the day, was finished off, and a simple chocolate mousse followed for dessert.
"So," Malcolm drawled out, putting down his spoon after the last bite of his mousse, "have you decided what to do now you're no longer at school?"
Rob looked at his brother like he was stupid. "What kind of a question is that? Of course, I'm playing Quidditch. I've already signed my contract for the next few years."
Morgan excused herself to the loo for a brief second, returning with a disillusioned box behind her back.
"Who did you end up signing with?" Malcolm continued.
"The Arrows. It was a tough choice between them and the Pride of Portree, but in the end, Appleby was the better choice for me."
"Well," Morgan began, slipping back into her seat, "do you really think you'll be able to keep up in a professional league with your mum's old broom?"
At this question, his happiness and excitement seemed to dissipate, and he reached up to scratch at the back of his head nervously. "No…," he began, drawing out the first word. "It's held up well enough at the Hogwarts level, but I really do need something newer before training begins. I need to figure a way to scrounge up the galleons I need for something newer than Mum's Silver Arrow, but not brand new, because I just can't afford that. Maybe something one or two generations back would do, if I can find a used one."
Morgan nodded solemnly. "Well, you could do that. It's certainly an option." She cast a silent bit of wandless magic to cancel the disillusionment spell on the box behind her back. "Or, if you'd rather, you could just open this box and let us spoil you a bit."
At this, his disposition flipped again. "Wha…?" He reached out a hand to touch the shiny box, tracing his fingers over the embossed lettering. "A Tinderblast?" He ripped his eyes away from the gift and stared into Morgan's face. "But how?"
Morgan laughed and handed the package across the table. "Here, this is yours. Congratulations on the Captaincy, the Quidditch Cup, finishing school, and for the deal with the Appleby Arrows. You've done well, and you deserve it."
Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and he let them fall for a moment before a thought occurred to him. "Do you have privacy charms around the cottage?"
She nodded. "Around the perimeter of the property."
"You don't say."
Minerva and Malcolm started snickering, seeing where the conversation was heading.
"So if I wanted to," Rob began.
"Go flying on your new broom?" Morgan interrupted.
He nodded with exuberance.
"Yes, you may. In fact," she smirked, "there may be a couple extra brooms around if your brother and sister would like to join you."
"Wouldn't you like to fly with us?" Minerva asked.
"No, thank you. I never was very good at flying."
Rob snorted, unboxing the broom. "Is that the only thing you can't do?"
Morgan mock-glared at him, sorely tempted to stick her tongue out. "Hardly." She knew he was referencing magic with the query, but her first thought regarding her limitations was that she was clearly completely incapable of living without Minerva. She only wished she could have this level of closeness with the woman she loved as herself instead of simply as her alternate persona.
A few minutes later, all three siblings were situated with brooms and a quaffle for a game of keep-away. Their robes had all been transfigured into something more suitable for flying, and the starting teams had been negotiated. The first round of keep-away would have Rob in the middle, teaming up against Minerva and Malcolm, trying to keep the quaffle out of his clutches.
They mounted their brooms, Rob in between his opposition holding the quaffle. His voice rang out so that Morgan could hear from her seat on the sidelines, outlining rules that she may not know. "You two toss the ball back and forth, trying to keep me from intercepting it. Whoever makes the throw that I catch is remanded to the middle for the next round. After five rounds, whoever got out of the middle the most times wins." He looked at his brother and sister in turn, his gaze hard, knowing this would be a fast-paced, cutthroat version of Quidditch. "Now, I want a nice, clean game!"
He breathed in and out as they rose to the appropriate height, trying to keep his breath even. "One!" He inhaled, getting the quaffle situated in his grip. "Two!" He exhaled, raising his arm into the air, preparing to throw.
"Three!" He released his breath and threw the quaffle with all his strength.
=========MM/HG=========
Malcolm and Minerva collapsed onto the sofa. Five rounds had turned into ten, into fifteen, and finally wrapped up at twenty, Rob being the victor at each juncture. His new broom may not have been the fastest, but he had certainly worked out all of its kinks and gotten a feel for it very early on. There was definitely a reason he was the one going to the professional leagues where they had not.
He had skipped away home, hands still tightly gripped to his Tinderblast, once the final round had been called, wanting a shower. As much as Malcolm also wanted a shower, he hadn't the energy yet to safely apparate himself home. Minerva was only waiting for her brother to leave to go soak in the tub for a long while. Her knee was killing her after the game's exertion.
Morgan hadn't been that entertained by a Quidditch game in years. It didn't hurt that her eyes had been glued to Min's form as she flew, appreciating the physical nature of the game. She'd idly wondered if the older Minerva from her own time missed flying like this. She recognized the changes in Minerva's demeanor and flying style the longer the game had gone on, and knew that there had been an injury when she'd been in school which prevented her from flying very often, but still, she was curious about how much Minerva missed it and what might be done to help.
She finished making tea and took a tray out to where the older McGonagall siblings were trying to catch their breath. Along with the pot of tea and the things that went with that, there was also a pitcher of cool water in case they didn't want a hot beverage yet.
"Malcolm," Morgan started as she sat next to Minerva, "How are things with you? We talked a good bit about Rob over dinner, but not much about you. Are your studies going well?"
He reached for a glass and filled it with water, taking a long sip. "Master has been well pleased with me thus far. I'm halfway through the program, but have mastered several skills not on the curriculum until the last year of the program. He pushes the idea of constantly being prepared for everything ever since he lost one of his legs in the war, so I study ahead in hopes of staying in front of whatever he throws at me."
"Good," she said, beaming. "And have you met anyone yet?"
Minerva snickered and fixed herself a cup of tea. "Oh, aye, he's found someone." She blew on the cup and took a sip. "It's just that she's already married."
"Married!?"
His face fell, and his voice came out in a sulk. "Only just married."
"Oh, is this the woman we talked about before?" Morgan was remembering a crumpled up wedding invitation and a conversation with Malcolm from a couple of trips back.
"Yeah…" His eyes shifted back and forth nervously, as though he were avoiding another discussion point.
"Go ahead, Mal. Tell her what you did." Minerva's eyes were glittering with amusement at his predicament.
He sighed deeply and slouched further into his seat. "Damn you, Minerva."
"It can't be all that bad, can it?"
"It can," he replied bitterly. "I thought I had adjusted. I thought I had gotten past it. I thought I was doing well and moving on, so I went to her wedding."
Morgan nodded in understanding.
"I was making it, I thought, and then she started walking down the aisle. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were red, and her smile was so wide and bright, and I couldn't stop myself; I turned out of my seat into the aisle in front of her, knelt down, confessed my undying love, and proposed marriage."
Morgan's mouth dropped. "At her wedding."
His eyes closed and his hand draped across them. "Yep."
"Oh dear."
=========MM/HG=========
Before he left, Malcolm revealed that the one at her wedding had only been the first impromptu proposal he'd offered to the newly married Augusta Longbottom. He was decidedly miserable over it.
Morgan puzzled over it during the rest of her visit, but her attention was more fixed upon Minerva and their new cottage. They christened every surface they could, enjoying the intimacy of having their own space with no restrictions.
It was soon time to go, however, and it seemed sooner with every trip. With a whisper, she was gone back to her London flat, but before she had even a moment to appreciate being herself in her own time, a magnificent stag pranced its way into her room, illuminating the area with a pale blue light. He nosed at her side, carefully avoiding touching anything with his horns, sniffing to be sure this was his intended target.
"Prongs?" she whispered.
Satisfied with her identity, his mouth opened and she listened as Harry's voice spoke. "Hermione, come to St. Mungo's right away. Luna's had a complication and would like to see you." Having delivered his message, Prongs shook his head and disappeared.
Without another thought, she disapparated with a loud crack, appearing seconds later in the Wizarding Hospital. She rushed to the desk clerk and asked in a frenzied voice, "Luna Lovegood. No, wait, Luna Potter. With a late term pregnancy complication."
=========MM/HG=========
A/N: Enjoy! Lots left to go in the story. It is definitely not abandoned, although the updates may be sporadic. I thank you all for your patience. I hope you are all doing well with the current state of world affairs being what it is.