Note to Gozzy78 - Thank you for your daily comments! I really appreciate them, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

I'd have sent you a private message, but FFN doesn't allow me to reply privately to comments left by "guests" (i.e., without a permanent account). And I wanted to say "thanks" and to respond to your thoughtful ideas about Chapter 4. So I thought I'd just add a note here.

1. You asked why Grubbly-Plank is teaching Care of Magical Creatures "if Hagrid holds that position."

My answer: In my view of postwar Hogwarts, Hagrid is no longer teaching; he's back to being the groundskeeper/gamekeeper (I tried to indicate that change in the story by explaining that Hagrid attends staff meetings as the grounds expert, but I probably should have been more direct.)

I see McGonagall as more interested in teaching/pedagogy/students than Albus was, and I can't imagine that when she's headmistress, she would allow Hagrid to remain as a professor; canon makes clear that he's not a competent teacher. I think McG would replace him with someone experienced and capable, and we know from canon that Grubbly-Plank is both.

2. You say that you find it difficult to envision Grubbly-Plank in a relationship with McG because G-P is only a very minor character in canon, and we know little about her or her backstory with McG.

My answer: It's true that G-P is quite a minor character, but we do know several useful things about her: she's a competent teacher who cares about and is good with animals; she's no-nonsense but kind; she's fairly butch in appearance and behavior [short gray hair, pipe]; she supports Dumbledore; she is not intimidated by Umbridge; she's blunt and plain-spoken and forthright; her speech tends to be terse and telegraphic. We know that McG is on a first-name basis with her and may be her friend, since they appear to be hanging out together in the staff room during "Order of the Phoenix."

So canon gives us a good foundation for a fleshed-out character, and I've tried to develop G-P further in this story. For me, that's part of the fun of fanfic - the chance to expand and deepen and go beyond what canon gives us. G-P (or any character) may be minor in canon, but they don't have to stay that way in fanfic.

3. You say, "As virtually nothing is known of Prof. W. G-P, any relationship with her as a core element would be difficult to get behind - to visualise, empathise, or sympathise with."

I'm not sure I agree. Even if we know little about G-P, we know a lot about McG, so couldn't we at least empathize and sympathize with her character and care about how the relationship affects her? Couldn't we visualize and "get behind" the relationship on McG's account?

And again, I don't think G-P remains an unknown cipher. She's characterized briefly but fairly sharply in canon. I've tried to create her as an even fuller character within the story.

Of course, I may not have characterized her well or thoroughly enough to make her interesting to readers, and if so, that's on me. Sorry! But I hope you'll be able to care about how the relationship affects McGonagall.

4. You say, "I have no problem with same-sex relationships."

It's interesting that you mention this, since the type of relationship (whether same-sex or not) doesn't seem to have any bearing on the issues you've raised. G-P's sexual or gender identities aren't relevant to the question of whether she is too minor a character for readers to care about.

In any case, I'm very grateful to you for your thoughtful and kind comments and for giving me the chance to talk about fanfic (one of my favorite activities). Thank you! I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story even if the G-P part doesn't work for you.

- / - / -

Chapter 5

- / - / -

Beyond a quick summary of Kingsley's visit, Minerva and Wilhelmina didn't discuss Lady Wandsdown's latest letter until they were climbing into Minerva's four-poster bed that night. Then Willa wrapped her arms around Minerva, and they settled back against the pillows for what Willa called "a good natter."

"Well," Willa began, "at least the staff room was quiet."

Minerva snorted. Even Rolanda had been subdued during the usual after-dinner coffee and tea break in the staff room. After muttering, "Don't even worry about it, Min; Wandsdown's an arse," she'd downed her tea in one gulp and scarpered. The others offered similar platitudes and departed as soon as they could. They all knew that the headmistress was upset, and an upset McGonagall was usually someone to be avoided.

Only Filius had seemed his usual cheerful and imperturbable self. "It'll be a storm in a teacup, Minerva," he'd said, waving his own cup with a grin. "You'll see."

"Kingsley may be right," Minerva said to Willa now. "This could be a fight we can win. But I'm not sure I want the battle." She twisted in her lover's embrace to look at her intently. "It's not about shame - - "

"I know that," said Willa, and Minerva settled back again.

"It's that I don't want our personal lives played out in public like some sort of Quidditch match. We aren't a spectacle for people's entertainment."

"True." Willa puffed on her pipe, the smoke charmed to disappear at once.

Minerva turned again to look at her, this time with a sardonic eyebrow raised. "But - - ? There's a 'but' here, Willa, I can hear it. I know you too well."

"That you do. Yes, there's a 'but.' Our private lives are our own, true, but. . .I wouldn't mind being a couple with you in public. Truth be told, I'd like it. A lot. Sharing a table at Rosmerta's. Sitting with you at Quidditch matches. Escorting you to this Ministry Yule Ball thing."

"You hate Ministry events!"

"I do, right enough. But if we have to go, we have to go. Would rather go with you openly, that's all. Now and always."

"I - - " Temporarily speechless, Minerva reached for Willa's hand and squeezed it.

"Well, you think about it," Willa said, squeezing back. "Sleep on it. Plenty of time to decide once the fight seems likely. If it ever does."

She took another few ruminative puffs on her pipe and then straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat.

Minerva recognised the signs of Wilhelmina Coming to a Decision.

"What?" she demanded.

"Been thinking about a line in that letter." Willa Summoned her copy and then took up her monocle from the bedside table. "Wasn't going to say anything, but decided I'd better. Listen." Peering through her monocle, she read, "'these two lovers, despite having so long ensnared each other's senses, have to live publicly as though they are nearly strangers.' That phrase - - 'ensnared each other's senses.' Remind you of anything?"

She glanced at Minerva shrewdly. "Guessing it does; you must have recognised it same as I did."

Minerva nodded. "It's what Severus always used to say to the potions students."

"Probably doesn't mean anything, of course," Willa said. "Lots of people have heard that line over the years." She dropped the parchment and her monocle back on the table and then raised the edge of the duvet invitingly. "Come on, let's get some sleep."

Minerva wanded out the candles and lay down. Willa spooned behind her, kissed her neck, and mumbled, "'Night, love."

Long after Willa's regular breathing proclaimed her to be asleep, Minerva lay staring into the darkness.

- / - / -

Three days later, she Apparated to a Muggle village some distance from Hogwarts. On its outskirts, behind a tall hedge, stood a small cottage. It was well kept, its windows clean and snugly-fitted, the hedge neatly trimmed. Smoke curled from the stone chimney.

Minerva paused as she approached. She'd sent an owl, but she was not sure how she'd be received. . .or if she'd be received at all.

Yet even as she wondered, the red door of the cottage opened, and Severus Snape came out upon the stone step.

To virtually all of the wizarding world, Severus - - Hogwarts' famous double-agent - - was a dead hero. Only Minerva, Kingsley, and St. Mungo's head healer knew that he was a living one.

He was frighteningly thin and leant heavily upon a walking stick, but he motioned to her peremptorily, his old imperiousness intact, and Minerva nearly smiled.

"Come in, don't just stand there gawping," he snapped as soon as she was in hearing distance. "And don't tell me I'm looking well," he added as he noticed her appraisal of him. "You know I hate being lied to."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Minerva assured him, entering the tidy front room. "Especially since you're actually looking rather appalling."

Snape's lips twitched, and he followed her inside. "I told you of my whereabouts on the very remote chance that in the future - - the far distant future, I'd hoped - - some seriously desperate circumstance might make it necessary for you to contact me. But here you've barely lasted six months before you apparently feel the need of a social call."

"Well, and it's good to see you, too, Severus. I'm glad the near-fatal snake bite did nothing to diminish your charm."

He ignored this. "Sit down and pour yourself some tea," he said, lowering himself stiffly into an armchair. "Don't think I'm going to wait on you. There's a bottle of Ogden's on the sideboard if you want something stronger."

Despite his apparent disdain for social calls, Severus had loaded a small table with tea things and a plate of cakes.

As soon as she'd supplied herself with a fortified cuppa, he said, all irony gone, "What's wrong, Minerva?"

"It's nothing 'seriously desperate,' to use your words," she replied. "But it's worrisome." Quickly, she outlined the Lady Wandsdown saga.

"In one sense, of course, Poppy is right," she concluded. "No real harm seems to have been done. So far. But it's de-stabilising, and that's something we don't need right now. It's already had some effect: Rolanda is less exuberant than usual, and - - "

"Surely you aren't suggesting that's a bad thing," Severus interrupted.

"Well. . .it's certainly not typical. She's preoccupied and distracted; clearly she's giving this training school a lot of thought, and it's taking most of her attention."

"What about Filius and Pomona?"

Minerva grimaced. "At first they barely spoke to each other; then they went through a period of being excruciatingly polite and formal. At least now they've become friendly again, but as for romance, well, who knows? I certainly don't, and I'm not going to try to find out. If they've gone in that direction, they're keeping it to themselves. But this whole business has definitely made for some very strained afternoons in the staff room."

"I can imagine," said Severus. "But what I can't yet quite see is what all this has to do with me."

"See if this will stimulate your Inner Eye," said Minerva, reaching into her bag. "Here is the most recent letter; it came a few days ago. I think you'll be able to tell why some of us thought of you."

He read the parchment she handed him, his brow furrowed. "'Ensnare the senses,' yes, I see," he said finally.

He leant forward and spoke solemnly. "Minerva, I give you my word of honour that I had nothing do with this. Not this letter, not any of it. For one thing, I have no patience with such silly games, not after all I've been through. And for another, I hope you know that I would never expose you and Wilhelmina against your wishes. Not under any circumstances. I mean, be serious! I never even breathed a word to Voldemort. . . and you think I'd tell the likes of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley?"

Minerva had to chuckle. "No, of course I didn't really think so. But you understand why I had to ask. I'm rather out of any other ideas at this point."

Severus added a drop of Ogden's to his own tea. Minerva was fairly certain this was against his Muggle doctors' orders, but she understood the need.

"None of my business, obviously," he said, taking a long sip. "But I've lived most of my life behind secrets, and believe me, it's better to be free of them. Much better."

He waited a beat to make sure she'd got his message and then went on, "As for Lady Wandsdown, or whoever the hell is writing these ludicrous letters, I suggest you look closer to home. So far the focus has all been on Hogwarts and things learnt there; that's where you'll find your culprit."

"I suspect you're right," Minerva agreed, rising to leave. "Thank you, Severus; you've been very helpful."

Severus looked affronted. "Oh, that's just perfect," he said with his old sneer. "You barge in here, fling around some false accusations, pick my brain, drink my liquor. . .and now you're planning to leave without even being civil enough to offer me some decent conversation first. Typical self-centred Gryffindor."

"Why, Severus! If I didn't know better, I'd think you were lonely."

"Don't be absurd. But as long as you're here, and I've gone to the trouble of offering you tea, I expect some recompense. If I'm going to be forced to provide unpaid counsel and advice to the head of Hogwarts, I'm at least going to need to be briefed on what else is happening there."

"Of course." Minerva sat down again and reached for a cake. "I wouldn't want to intrude," she said blandly, "but if you are willing to assist me occasionally, it might be helpful if I were to make fairly regular. . .er, informational visits. To fill you in about Hogwarts."

"Apparently I am never to be free of that benighted institution," Severus huffed. "Fine. Come once a month or so. Send an owl first. Now pour yourself more tea and tell me how badly Gryffindor is doing at Quidditch."

- / - / -

Sunday afternoon, 20 December, found Minerva in the staff room, presiding over a meeting between her heads of houses and the four members of the Ministry Yule Ball Committee.

Invitations to the ball had already been owled; food and décor were arranged. This final meeting was merely to settle last-minute details, and Minerva was pleased when they managed to conclude their business with only minimal tussles over the remaining division of labour and with only one moment of asperity from the usually argumentative Sage Bagnold, head of the Department of Magical Transportation.

"I hope you can all stay for for dinner in the Great Hall," Minerva said to the Ministry people as the meeting concluded. "There will be cocktails beforehand here in the staff room in about an hour."

Bagnold, of course, needed to bustle fussily away, but the others happily accepted.

"Nothing like a delicious Hogwarts feast," declared Wilkie Twycross, who travelled from the Ministry a few times a year to give the students Apparition lessons. "It's always my favourite part of coming to the school."

"And here I thought your favourite part would be students splinching themselves," chuckled Griselda Marchbanks, a tiny old woman whose wrinkled face adorned one of the sharpest minds in the Ministry. As long-time governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, she was a familiar annual visitor who was quite at home in the Castle.

"I'd love to stay for dinner," she told Minerva. "You don't mind if I wander the corridors for a bit first? Have to fit in my daily constitutional."

She set off. Horace carried the other Ministry members off to his rooms for pre-cocktail cocktails, and Minerva and her remaining staff breathed sighs of relief.

"Be glad to get this Yule Ball over with," said Wilhelmina.

"Won't we all?" said Pomona, rising. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some marking to do before dinner."

"So do I," said Filius, hopping to his feet and exclaiming jovially, "Homework doesn't mark itself, you know." He hurried out after Pomona.

Minerva raised an interested eyebrow. "I've never seen so much excitement about marking before," she said.

"Aye," nodded Willa. "The game's afoot, I'd say, though I wouldn't want to bet on which one is the game and which the hunter. Well, I'm off to tend the unicorns. See you at dinner, love." Since they were by themselves, she gave Minerva a quick peck on the cheek and strode out.

With a cat-like stretch, Minerva leant back in her chair. This was the first time she'd been alone, without even portraits, in. . .actually, probably in days. She knew she should use this time to think about some of the thorny questions she needed to face, but the desire to leave things behind for a while was too strong.

With a pop, she transformed into her cat self and was soon napping on the rug in front of the fire.