Rose Colored
Sunday, 7 February 1943
Sunday morning, Minerva arose just as dawn was beginning to break over the trees of the Forbidden Forest. This was her routine every Sunday morning this term, as the Gryffindor Quidditch team had the first slot of four for practice that day. She'd been disappointed to have been left with the early morning slot when she went to sign up with Plumpton, mostly because it meant getting her letters from her family in the morning would be difficult. She'd arranged with Michael, though, for him to take her letters and hand them off to her later. So, as she did every Sunday, she dressed quickly and quietly, then grabbed the bag she'd prepared the night before as she crept out of the sixth-year girls' dormitory.
She left Gryffindor Tower alone, as she was always intentionally out on the pitch before her team to give herself time to organize her thoughts. First, though, she stopped by the kitchens to grab a basket the house-elves knew to have ready for her, full of breakfast for her team. With the basket on her arm, she made her way out of the castle doors in good spirits.
Minerva took a deep breath of the cool morning air as she stepped onto the crunchy grass, taking a moment to enjoy the morning. The sky was clear and a beautiful mixture of lavender, orange, yellow, and red. She looked towards the lake and admired the stillness of the water, and the way the emerging sunlight silhouetted the willow tree that stood beside it. A different silhouette, though, interrupted the image she expected to see. Minerva squinted at the wizard walking along the lake. He stopped and looked in her direction, and then waved. "Dumbledore?" Minerva murmured to herself, surprised to see her professor out so early.
Dumbledore turned away from the lake and started making his way towards her. As he neared, she grew surer of his identity, and once he was close enough to hear her, she called, "Good morning, Professor Dumbledore!"
"Good morning, Miss McGonagall!" He was grinning at her, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dusty-purple robes.
"What brings you out here so early?" she asked.
"Ah, well," he looked around at the surroundings that Minerva had just been admiring, "I resolved to take early morning walks before sunrise starting in February this year."
Minerva blinked in surprise, "That's…a very specific resolution, sir."
He laughed, "And you should be grateful for it. I'm doing it to look for dew on the ground." He raised his eyebrows significantly at her.
His meaning was not missed. Minerva's eyes widened, and a huge smile came over her face. "Oh! Professor, I don't know what to say." He was doing this for her Animagus project, she realized. "Thank you!"
He smiled and inclined his head, "The pleasure has been mine. Although the ground is still frozen in the mornings, taking these walks have been quite peaceful and have done wonders for my often-chaotic thoughts."
Minerva smiled, too, "I'm glad. Thank you, again, for taking my interest so seriously. And for taking the time!"
"You're welcome, Miss McGonagall." He eyed her Quidditch robes, "Time for practice?"
She looked down at her bright red robes unnecessarily, "Yes. I like to head out a little before my team to get situated."
"And to fetch breakfast, it seems," he noticed. "Where did you get that basket?"
Minerva opened her mouth to respond, but then remembered that the kitchens were off-limits to students. He raised his eyebrows at her hesitation, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Finally, she replied, "A house-elf gave it to me."
They regarded each other silently for a moment. Minerva tensely awaited judgement, while conversely, Dumbledore seemed completely relaxed. Eventually, he nodded and simply said, "Well, I hope Gryffindor has a good practice." He looked towards the pitch and then asked, "Mr. Plumpton is supervising, isn't he? He didn't ask me, or at least, I don't recall him doing so."
"He usually supervises Sunday practices," Minerva replied, relieved. Dumbledore nodded again, and they parted ways with well-wishes for the remainder of their days. Minerva released a breath she'd been holding since he'd asked about the basket. She supposed that sneaking into the kitchens wasn't as serious an infraction as dueling. The only danger in the kitchens was overeating. She suspected that Dumbledore knew precisely where she'd gotten the basket, but did not care enough to press her.
After fetching her Cleansweep Three from the broom shed, Minerva made her way towards the pitch, where Plumpton was waiting for her.
"G'morning, McGonagall," he greeted.
"Good morning, Mr. Plumpton," she returned. He fell into step beside her as she walked into the pitch
Minerva was never quite sure what to say to the pitchmaster. He was a famous former Quidditch player, which made him slightly intimidating to talk to, especially since he'd played her position. In a way she felt that connected them, but she was also highly self-conscious of what he thought of her Seeking. In lieu of starting up a conversation, she simply said, "I think I'll take a lap, if you don't mind."
Plumpton gestured to the pitch and smiled, "The pitch is yours."
Minerva smiled back and mounted her broom, her basket of food and bag from her room still on her arm. She flew the lap around the pitch, and then landed in front of the Gryffindor team's changing rooms to drop off her things. After setting everything down in the girls' changing room, she began to pace around the room, thinking about her plans for practice. Gryffindor didn't have another match until March, but she wanted to keep her team strong and consistent. She drew out some notes on the blackboard in the common area every now and then as she paced.
Soon enough, her team trickled into the changing rooms, already in their Quidditch robes but each with their own bag of clothes to change into after practice. They carried their brooms on their shoulders as they walked in to set their bags down. Oliver grinned at her as he entered, and Minerva smiled back. She forced back a grin as bright as his to try to maintain a semblance of professionalism in front of the team. They each rummaged through the basket she'd brought, and as she watched them her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten yet either. Minerva buttered a scone and grabbed a banana from the basket, and then joined her team on the benches in front of the blackboard. The Gryffindors were unusually quiet as they ate their breakfast, but Minerva found that waking them up early did that to them.
Once everyone had eaten, Minerva stood up in front of them all and said, "Alright then, let's get to it. I want to start with a few dodging drills with a single Bludger to wake us all up, just typical evasive maneuvers, and then we'll throw the Quaffle into the mix when I think you're good and ready." She grabbed her broom, which had been leaning against the blackboard. "Let's go."
The Gryffindors traipsed out, brooms on their shoulders. Minerva let them all go ahead of her and levitated the box of Quidditch balls Plumpton left for her out to the pitch. Once they were clear of the overhang covering the door to the changing rooms, her team mounted their brooms and took to the air. Minerva lowered the chest to the ground and released one of the Bludgers. Oliver was ready with his bat, and beat it in the direction of the rest of the team. Minerva mounted her broom and joined them, grinning as she watched them all scatter to avoid the Bludger. Prewett flew after the Bludger as it sailed past them to send it back towards the team. Minerva shouted instructions to the Chasers, asking them to do their best to keep to their normal formations. Oliver and Prewett focused most of their attention on the Chasers, but Minerva goaded Prewett into coming after her as well. They carried on like this for a good fifteen minutes before Minerva called for one of the reserve Beaters, David Llewellyn, to bring up the Quaffle. Minerva called out the names of formations and different drill challenges from above as she observed her team. She then had the reserve Beaters release the second Bludger for them to practice with, adding to the challenges for the Chasers and Donnie. Halfway through practice she released the Snitch, gave it five minutes to get lost, and then began searching for it, creating another obstacle for her team to deal with. At one point, she dodged a Bludger from Oliver. When she looked over at him with raised eyebrows, he simply grinned at her and waved. Minerva laughed.
By the end of practice, everyone was red-faced, windswept, and panting. She had them in the air until the last minute, so they went to shower and change immediately after grounding. Oliver stayed back to help Minerva corral the Bludgers into the chest. Once the rest of the team was far out of earshot, he said with a wink, "Take your time getting changed."
"You are not going –" Minerva began, thinking he would try to enter the girls' changing room.
"No, no!" he hastily interjected, sensing her assumption. "But the boys are always quick, you could…"
Minerva's face flushed and she looked up at Plumpton, who'd been sitting in the stands the whole time. He seemed to still be flipping through the copy of Which Broomstick? she'd seen him with while she was in the air. She looked back at Oliver's hopeful face and whispered, "Maybe." He grinned. She couldn't help the smile that quirked at her lips in response, nor the feeling of warm giddiness spreading through her.
About fifteen minutes later, Minerva found herself knocking on the door to the boys' changing room. She heard Oliver's voice from the other side, "Who is it?"
"Minerva."
He called for her to come in and, feeling inexplicably nervous, Minerva pushed the door open. Her eyes fell on Oliver immediately. She didn't turn away from him as she shut the door behind her firmly and leaned against it. His hair was wet from his shower, on his head, his arms, and – Minerva stared – on his chest. He was standing there, grinning at her, in just his underwear. Minerva's eyes roamed appreciatively over his muscles, which she'd been admiring through his robes as she'd watched him swing his Beater's bat.
Minerva closed the distance between them in two strides, kissing him hungrily. Oliver returned the kiss with equal passion. They'd been enjoying being fully intimate with each other for the past week, yet they couldn't seem to get enough of each other. Oliver made short work of the day robes she'd put on after her shower, and they fell in a puddle around her feet, joined shortly by her knickers. Excitement flowed through Minerva's veins as they snogged in this new environment. Her back arched as Oliver's attention drifted downward, pushing her gently into that position to give him better access to her breasts. He cupped her bum with one hand, and one of her breasts with the other. Minerva gasped lightly as he squeezed. She pulled him off of her breast and back to her lips, eager to kiss him again. He kissed her back enthusiastically. She pulled him to his knees and he happily followed her down to the floor. Suddenly, though, Minerva gasped as he flipped her around, urging her onto all fours. His left hand grasped her hip firmly, and the other slid around her waist until his fingers found familiar purchase between her legs. Minerva moaned as he worked, and then gasped as he entered her from behind. He started with a steady rhythm, working her with his fingers as he thrust into her, but as her moans grew louder, he thrust harder. Quicker than Minerva thought it had ever happened for them, they were both shuddering with pleasure. Minerva fell limply onto the ground and rolled over. Oliver laid down beside her, panting.
She turned to him and grinned lazily, "I think that was the best yet."
Oliver grinned proudly.
They both turned their attention back to the ceiling as they caught their breaths.
"Hey Minerva?" Oliver asked after about a minute of silence. Minerva turned back to look at him, an eyebrow quirked. They smiled softly at each other, and he asked, "Will you be my Valentine?"
Minerva laughed and sat up, "I think we're past that, love."
Oliver sat up too, grinning, "Oh, I know." He watched her unabashedly as she collected her clothing and began to dress. "I simply haven't officially asked you, and I wanted to."
"Why? Have any other potential plans this Hogsmeade weekend?" she joked as she pulled her hair out of her inner robe.
He laughed, "Of course not. I just never want to take you for granted."
Minerva stopped what she was doing with only one arm successfully through her outer robe. She stared at him, her heart fluttering and her smile widening. He looked up at her from where he was still seated on the ground with a genuine, open expression, a touching smile on his face. Minerva leaned down to give him a soft kiss on the lips and murmured, "I love you, Oliver Brown."
"And I love you, Minerva McGonagall," he whispered back.
Later that day, seated across from him in the common room, Minerva heard him singing softly to himself while he got his books and supplies organized on the table between them. She stopped reading for a moment to listen, looking up at him over her square-framed glasses, and smiled lightly when she recognized the verse he was singing:
"Well, green eyes with their soft lights,
Your eyes that promise sweet nights,
Bring to my soul a longing, a thirst for love divine.
In dreams I seem to hold you, to find you and enfold you,
Our lips meet and our hearts, too, with a thrill so sublime."
Saturday, 13 February 1943
"Can you believe this is the first Valentine's Day that we've all had a date?" Rolanda asked.
She, Minerva, Poppy, and Pomona had just sat down around the fireplace they always called up in the Room of Requirement, in those armchairs that looked as though they'd been dragged out of their common rooms. They'd had busy days: they'd all had an Apparition lesson that morning after breakfast, three of them had gone to Hogsmeade while the fourth had a date at the castle, and they'd all gone to Dueling Club before dinner.
"And yet, here we are hiding in this room," Poppy joked.
Pomona laughed, "Oh, Poppy, come now, we know you and Nathan had a lovely time in Hogsmeade today."
"Well, I don't know what she's told you, Pomona, but Rolanda and I haven't heard anything," Minerva remarked. She gave Poppy a pointed stare and asked, "Well, Poppy, is it true? Did you have a lovely time?"
Poppy flushed and started fiddling with her robes. Minerva and Rolanda smirked at each other. "Of course I did," Poppy finally replied, in a slightly higher-pitched voice than usual.
"What did you do?" Rolanda asked.
"Ah, well, we started in the Three Broomsticks because, as you know, of course, it was a chilly day –" suddenly she stopped, glancing guiltily over at Rolanda, whose Hogsmeade privileges had been revoked as part of her punishment for engaging in "intimate relations." Rolanda waved her off, and Poppy continued quickly, "– so we grabbed some butterbeers to-go and just…went for a walk. I usually walk so fast, but Nathan helps me remember to slow down and appreciate what I'm usually rushing past. We saw a lot of really beautiful and adorable things doing that. Hogsmeade is a quirky little village."
"You're just now discovering that the only all-magical settlement in Britain is 'quirky?'" Rolanda asked drily.
Minerva snorted, and Poppy shot Rolanda a withering look.
"So, is that it? Butterbeer and a romantic walk?" Minerva asked.
"We had lunch, too. I remember thinking how far we'd come, because I was marveling at how easy conversation came to us. A time when we could hardly speak around each other –"
"Especially him," Rolanda interjected, snorting.
"– feels so long ago," Poppy finished, ignoring Rolanda.
"I'm glad you had such a great time," Minerva said, shooting Rolanda a disapproving look on her friend's behalf.
"And he bought her flowers," Pomona added.
"Yes, and he bought me flowers," Poppy confirmed, smiling with pink cheeks. She cleared her throat, smoothed the skirt of her robes unnecessarily, and met Rolanda steadily in the eyes. "Enough about me, what did you and Richard do today while you were trapped inside the castle?"
"We spent the day in here," she replied, smirking.
Pomona and Poppy exchanged amused glances. Minerva laughed and remarked, "So, you were essentially laughing in the face of the reason you couldn't go to Hogsmeade in the first place."
"Essentially," Rolanda confirmed with a small smile. "It was actually quite nice. It felt like we had all the time in the world to spend here together, uninterrupted. All of our friends were out in Hogsmeade, so no one we cared about would be looking for us. We didn't feel pressured to show our faces for your sakes. Most of the time we spent just talking and cuddling, really. And I –" Rolanda's face turned slightly pink. Her friends exchanged surprised looks at Rolanda's uncharacteristically bright-eyed, unguarded expression, "– I feel even closer to him now than I did before."
Her friends smiled. "That's wonderful, Ro," Pomona said softly.
Rolanda looked away, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "Er – well – how was your Valentine's Day, Pomona?"
Pomona sighed, tilting her head back and forth considering, "It was…alright. Last year with Gene was better, honestly."
Her friends grimaced. "To be fair to Theodore, you did just start dating. You'd been with Gene for a few months before Valentine' Day last year," Poppy reminded her in an attempt to be encouraging.
Pomona shrugged, "I don't know. With Gene it just felt more genuine. With Theodore…I spent the day letting him drag me around Hogsmeade, moving from one half-private alcove or alleyway to the next to snog. It was fun and exciting at the time, but listening to you lot, it's made me realize that…maybe that's all he wants?"
"You should ask him," Minerva suggested.
"But you should know what you want first," Poppy added quickly.
Pomona nodded, "I want something real. Having fun is great, but I want to make sure I'm having fun and making those sorts of memories and taking those kinds of steps with a person who wants to try for something enduring."
"Pomona Collins!" Rolanda exclaimed with a grin. Pomona raised her eyebrows at her. "When did you get so sure of yourself?"
Poppy scoffed, giving Rolanda a look that clearly read, "Don't be ridiculous, my best friend is a strong, confident woman." Pomona laughed lightly and remarked, "You know, Poppy, it really is amazing what you can communicate with just those eyebrows."
Minerva and Rolanda laughed. Poppy's cheeks reddened, and she sat up straighter in her armchair. Raising her voice over her friends' laughter, Poppy asked, "Minerva, how was your date with Oliver?"
Rolanda and Pomona's laughter died down as they turned their attention to Minerva. It was the Gryffindor's turn to be red-faced, now; she'd immediately quieted at Poppy's question.
"We had a lot of fun," Minerva replied, smiling softly. She looked guiltily over at Pomona, conscientious of the fact that her friend had just said she'd not had a good time on her own date. Pomona waved her off, smiling encouragingly. Minerva smiled back and continued, "He planned a day inspired by our third year."
"Aw, back when you dated the first time! That's so sweet!" Pomona exclaimed. Poppy and Rolanda exchanged touched, pouting expressions.
Minerva nodded, "He started the day with a bouquet of daisies, which he'd given to me on our first date in third year because his father had told him that flowers were important, but roses were cliché. We had lunch at the Three Broomsticks –"
"– because third years don't know where else to go –" Rolanda remarked, laughing.
Minerva grinned at her, "And then we went for a walk, and he led me right to the place where we had our first kiss."
She received a chorus of aws at that detail. Her cheeks turned red, but she was still smiling and looking around at them all happily.
"I hope you had a good snog there," Rolanda said.
Minerva winked at her, making her three friends laugh.
Sunday, 14 February 1943
The castle was quieter than usual the next day, as couples sought privacy, spending time together away from the typically busy hallways. Empty classrooms were not as empty as they should have been, and boys' dormitories suddenly seemed to become co-ed. It was a beautiful day, and many couples took the opportunity to sit together around the lake, in the shadow of the greenhouses or the castle, or beneath the trees. The students who had no date this Valentine's Day spent the day not acknowledging the signs of the holiday, for reasons ranging from complete apathy to bitter avoidance, by studying in the library or relaxing in their common rooms. The halls, though, were barely traversed; people seemed to be finding their spots and sticking with them.
Minerva and Oliver were among those who had no plans of moving for most of the day, until their stomachs called them to the Great Hall for dinner. While Rolanda and Richard had claimed the Room of Requirement the day before, Minerva and Oliver now had leave to spend the whole day there, wrapped up in each other. That's how Minerva found herself curled up in his arms, her forehead against his bare chest and their legs tangled. So relaxed were they in their post-coital bliss, they were half-asleep. Minerva was tremendously happy; it had been a perfect weekend.
Oliver shifted to free his arm from beneath her head, waking Minerva up. She propped herself up on her elbow, resting her head on her hand and not bothering to cover her chest as the duvet slipped to rest around her waist. She smirked as she watched Oliver's half-closed eyes focus downward, suddenly becoming more alert. She started scratching gentle circles on his chest with her fingertips, focusing her attention there and pretending as though she did not notice the way her boyfriend's eyes were now sizing up her body. She rolled onto her stomach, knowing how much he enjoyed the way her breasts hung from this angle, and continued drawing circles on his chest. Minerva chanced a glance up at his face and was pleased to see his lips dry and parted, and a longing look in his eyes, which were darting hungrily over her chest and hips as he tried to take in everything at once. She quickly glanced back down at her hand and, feeling empowered, began to trace patterns lower, her fingers dancing across his abs, around his bellybutton, and then teasingly around his member. Minerva grinned softly to herself as she heard him start to whimper. She was too eager herself to draw this out for long, though, and took him in her hand without further pretense. He moaned at this, and Minerva finally met his eyes. The look of utter awe and devotion on his face sent shivers down her spine.
"I love you," she murmured.
He smiled lazily, happily up at her, "I love you too."
Minerva released him, which elicited a pout from Oliver that quickly turned into a grin as Minerva swung her leg over his hips. She pulled the covers up over them as she leaned over him and kissed him, to which he responded enthusiastically. Their kiss was immediately intense and full of passion, and their hands roamed each other's bodies expertly. Minerva gasped as Oliver rolled her onto her back, and then moaned as he took one of her nipples into his mouth, twirling his tongue around its tip. His hand that wasn't holding her breast in place wandered lower, and his fingers sliced a familiar path between her folds. He worked her into a panting frenzy without providing the relief she was desperate for, which inspired Minerva to push him herself, back onto his back, pinning his arms to the bed. He looked up at her with wide, sparkling and eager eyes. Minerva kissed him deeply again before guiding him into her. Their fingers laced together as she rocked atop him, and they did their best to maintain eye contact. Occasionally, Minerva would tilt her head back in pleasure or Oliver's eyes would roll back in his head, but they always came back to each other, resuming that connection.
So absorbed were they in each other that they did not notice the room shifting ever-so-subtly. The door reappeared, and walls were coming up to surround the area immediately in front of it, creating a sort of small entry hall with a new, second door leading from that new room into the one Minerva and Oliver were in. What they did notice, though, was the loud knocking on the newly-formed door. Minerva had never experienced such a dramatic shift in sensations as she did in that split second; she went from full of heat, nearly reaching her peak, to cold with panic. She was off Oliver in an instant, shaking and confused; the wide-eyed, pale-faced expression on his face conveyed many of the same emotions Minerva was feeling.
"Minerva! It's me, Poppy!"
Minerva blinked rapidly, still disoriented, but her brain was catching up. She asked the room for a dressing gown and hastily threw it on as she walked towards the new door. Oliver pulled the duvet up to his chest as he sat up in the bed. Minerva cracked open the door to reveal Poppy, who was pink-cheeked and panting. She looked as though she'd just ran up several flights of stairs, which Minerva knew was not something Poppy would do lightly, as she was not in particularly good shape. Alarm rose within Minerva, raising the hairs on her arms, and she opened the door more fully now that she was certain Poppy was alone.
Poppy glanced down at Minerva's dressing gown, and then at Oliver over her shoulder, and blushed, "I'm so sorry, Minerva, but there's been another attack."
Minerva's eyes widened, "Who? Where?"
"I don't know who, Dumbledore stopped me and asked me to find you and send you to the second floor," Poppy replied hurriedly.
"I'll meet you in the hallway," Minerva said immediately.
Poppy nodded curtly, but stopped Minerva from closing the door, "Er – you have a…" she gestured to her own neck. Minerva's hands flew up to mirror Poppy's gesture and looked down to see what she was talking about. Over her chin she could just barely see a red mark forming along her collarbone, and blushed. Poppy said, "I thought you'd want to know, so, you know, Dumbledore…"
"Right," Minerva interjected, raising her wand and casting a Glamour Charm immediately. "Thank you, Poppy."
Poppy nodded again, and this time allowed Minerva to close the door. As soon as it was shut, Oliver hopped out of bed and started getting dressed, "I'll come with you."
Minerva didn't argue. She dressed hurriedly, and as she pulled on her robes, she asked the room for a mirror so she could check the decency of the rest of her appearance. Her hair was a mess, but there were no other love bites that she could see. She didn't want to take the time to fix her hair into the gentle curls they'd been in that morning, so she waved her wand, directing her hair into a braid to contain it all. That done, she glanced over to make sure Oliver was decent, and rushed out the door. Oliver followed hurriedly as Minerva and Poppy rushed down the stairs, navigating several inconvenient choices by the moving staircases to get to the second floor.
Once on the second floor, they turned three corners before they found a small group standing near one of the large, ledged windows that were popular for sitting. Minerva immediately noticed Dumbledore among them, as he was the tallest, and he looked over the heads of the students around him to meet her eyes as she quickly approached.
"Thank you, Miss Nadson, for locating Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore said as they neared.
The rest of the students turned at this, and Minerva recognized them all as Gryffindor Prefects. The two fifth-year Gryffindors were present, David MacVanish and Agnes Abbott, as well as the Head Boy, Henry O'Brien. Minerva's sixth-year counterpart Alexander Cridland was missing, as well as Eve York, the seventh-year Prefect.
"Lillian!" Poppy exclaimed. Minerva looked around the group and saw the seventh-year Ravenclaw Prefect sitting on the nearest window ledge. Lillian smiled weakly as her cousin came to sit beside her.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore said. His eyes flickered to Oliver, who was now standing behind Minerva. "Hello, Mr. Brown."
"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Oliver replied, inclining his head awkwardly.
Dumbledore gave him a weary smile before turning back to Minerva, "I was just telling Mr. MacVanish and Miss Abbott why I've asked for you all. As I'm sure Miss Nadson has told you, there was another attack. This time, there were two students petrified, one of whom was your fellow Prefect, Eve York. The other was Jason Kendrick."
Minerva's heart pounded. Eve. They weren't particularly close, but when Minerva had first started as a Prefect, Eve had been very helpful in showing her the ropes. And – Minerva's blood ran cold as she remembered – Eve and Jason were both part of Merrythought's Dueling Club. Several emotions roiled within Minerva all at once as she processed this information, but anger was starting to prevail as the most dominant.
"Lillian and I were just walking…I don't think we would have even noticed they were petrified if we hadn't tried to say hello," Henry said quietly.
"Where were they?" Minerva asked.
"Over here," Lillian replied. She patted the space on the ledge beside her, "They were sitting right here, lounging, looking out the window. Jason was up against the wall, and Eve was," she sniffled, her voice breaking, "she was leaning against his chest. They looked so peaceful."
Poppy rubbed her cousin's shoulders soothingly and murmured, "They'll be alright, Lillian. Professor Marsh's Mandrakes will set them to rights." Lillian nodded. Henry left Dumbledore's side to sit beside and comfort his girlfriend.
Dumbledore turned back to Minerva and said, "I thought it best if the Gryffindor Prefects heard the news first. Mr. O'Brien and I have already discussed how this will impact your rounds, as we are still operating on a two-Prefects-per-house schedule. As for within Gryffindor itself, I'm not sure how you, Miss York, and Miss Abbott have handled this in the past, but I wanted to prepare you because I know that typically, female Prefects are vital in a house that has a male Head. Eve's absence might change that dynamic."
Minerva nodded curtly, suppressing the instinctive embarrassment about what he was alluding to as she worked to maintain professionalism, "I can handle it, Professor. We," she corrected, gesturing towards Agnes, "can handle it. Thank you for your concern."
At that moment, Alexander Cridland arrived, led by Nathan Pomfrey. Nathan went to join Poppy at the window while Dumbledore brought Alexander up to speed. Minerva walked over to the window, looking around for any hint of who or what might have attacked Eve and Jason.
"There's nothing," Henry said. Minerva looked up from the floor at him. He was leaning against the wall with both of his arms wrapped around Lillian, who was resting her head against his shoulder. "We did a sweep of the whole hallway. There's not a hair or slimy Slytherin scale that was left behind to give us anything to work with."
Oliver put his arm around Minerva comfortingly as she shook her head, muttering bitterly, "The Dueling Club was supposed to help us defend ourselves." She extricated herself from Oliver's loose embrace and started pacing, "They should have been able to defend themselves."
"It's hard to defend yourself when you're taken by surprise," Poppy said quietly. She was attempting to be soothing, but her tone only served to irritate Minerva more.
"How? How are any of these people so surprised? How can you not know, not feel you might be in danger?" Minerva retorted, her voice rising. "All of these people were attacked with their backs turned. How?"
"Maybe their attacker struck from a distance," Nathan suggested.
Minerva stopped pacing and frowned thoughtfully. She'd been thinking about the attacks as close-range, because she'd been influenced from the start by the idea that it was "Slytherin's monster" doing this to people. That could be a complete lie, though, to make the whole situation that much more frightening and sensationalized. That perspective, though, still gave them no information that could guide them towards a solution. Minerva threw her hands up in the air in despair. "That still gets us nowhere."
"Minerva…," Oliver began hesitantly, "there's nothing we can do."
Minerva pursed her lips and rounded on him, "But don't you want to even try? Not being able to figure this out makes me feel so helpless, but I still want to bloody try. That's all I can do."
"I'm just worried that you're taking this burden onto your shoulders unnecessarily," Oliver replied. "No one expects us to solve the mystery and save the school. We're just students."
"I don't think it's unnecessary! If our professors can't –"
"Then how do you expect that you, a not-yet-fully-qualified witch, are going to accomplish something a team of some of the brightest minds in Britain can't?" Oliver interjected, exasperated.
"Don't interrupt me!" Minerva shouted in lieu of a response. Oliver shut his mouth, his face pink with the heat of their argument. "Do you hear yourself? Are you even a Gryffindor?"
"I'm a Gryffindor, but I'm not stupid!" he snapped back. Minerva's head jerked back as if she'd been slapped. Oliver's eyes went wide and he hastily said, "I didn't mean…Merlin, Minerva…"
Minerva looked around, suddenly remembering they weren't alone. Henry and Lillian were staring intently at their entwined hands. Poppy and Nathan were looking out the window. David, Agnes, and Alexander were looking downwards, either at the floor or inspecting their clothing. Dumbledore, though, met her eyes. Minerva flushed, embarrassed, and looked away quickly. Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched away.
"Minerva!" Oliver called, starting after her.
"Oliver!" Poppy interjected suddenly. Oliver whirled around to look at Minerva's friend. Poppy gave him a pitying look, "Give her some time to cool off."
Oliver gestured frustratedly in Minerva's direction, "I can't just let her walk away like that! We need –"
"– to talk it out, yes. But following her right now will get you nowhere," Poppy cautioned.
Oliver ran his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath, and slowly released it. As soon as he finished, he let his hands fall to his sides and snapped, "Well, I'm certainly not going to just stand here with you all staring at me." With that, he walked away in the opposite direction from Minerva.
Minerva sat on a ledge identical to the one Eve and Jason had been petrified on, five floors up and next to the wall that was decorated with the very familiar tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy Teaching Trolls the Ballet. She looked out the window at the darkening sky, over the glittering lights of Hogsmeade, just beyond which the last vestiges of the setting sun could be seen from her seventh-floor vantage point.
Footsteps behind her piqued her ears. Out of stubbornness, she nearly didn't turn, but remembering her rant about how people allowed themselves to be snuck up on, she turned to look with her wand raised. Minerva blinked in surprise and lowered her wand quickly as her eyes landed, not on the person she expected, but on Albus Dumbledore.
"Professor!" she exclaimed in surprise. She stood quickly, opening her mouth to ask if something else had happened.
Dumbledore, though, seemed to sense her sudden anxiety and raised a staying hand. Minerva shut her mouth. Dumbledore walked up beside her and looked out the window, "Nothing else has happened, not to worry, Miss McGonagall."
Minerva bowed her head, her embarrassment from earlier creeping back in. She turned to look out the window as well, so that they were standing side-by-side. They stood in silence, with Minerva growing more uncomfortable by the minute. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry about earlier, Professor. That was inappropriate behavior, you'd asked me –"
"There's no need to apologize," he assured her. Finally, he glanced over at her, a wry smile peeking through his beard, "We've all been there. Your professors are people too, you know."
Minerva laughed lightly and looked down at her feet. Her soft laughter was short-lived, though, and her smile faded. She replied, "I've realized."
Dumbledore looked down at his feet as well at that. There was a heavy pause before he sighed, looking back up through the window, and said, "I feel as though I am the one who needs to apologize. We've failed you. You are a student – a highly gifted student, to be sure, but a student nonetheless – and you should not feel as though you need to take up a mantle you feel your professors cannot hold."
Minerva pressed her lips together and shook her head, "I don't know what else to do."
Dumbledore did not say anything to that immediately. Minerva scuffed her shoe against the flagstone, and the sound echoed in the silence. Her head jerked up when he finally spoke, "Neither do I."
He met her eyes levelly and honestly, and it took her breath away. She felt like she was seeing him for the first time, that the last piece of the façade had chipped away, and the person left in front of her was simply a wizard named Albus Dumbledore. And, she couldn't help but think, they were kindred spirits.
Minerva looked away, breaking the connection but sure she would never see him the same way again. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she remarked drily, "Did you really come find me to tell me to apologize to my boyfriend?"
Dumbledore chuckled, "No, no." He grinned out the window. "Actually, I wanted to bring you good news." Minerva raised her eyebrows and glanced back over at him. He remained fixated on the roofs of Hogsmeade as he elaborated, "I believe we'll be able to start your project soon."
Minerva's eyes widened, "Really?"
Dumbledore glanced at her, his blue eyes sparkling at her clear excitement. He smiled and said, "Yes, I've been seeing less frost on the ground the past few days. If the weather continues to warm up the way it has been, I think it will be safe for you to put the Mandrake leaf in your mouth at the next full moon."
Minerva covered her mouth in an attempt to comport herself with decorum, but she was singing on the inside. She'd wanted this for so long, ever since she was a little girl and her father had first told her about Animagi, and now, finally, it seemed like she would get her chance to try the transformation.
"And," he added, now looking slightly uncomfortable. Minerva's smile faded as he cleared his throat and looked back out the window, "I thought it important to mention, if you hadn't caught this specific detail, that it is vital that the Mandrake leaf not be contaminated in any way."
Minerva blushed and quickly looked ahead of her, "Of course. Thank you for the reminder."
He turned brusquely to face her with his whole body, now, and smiled brightly, as though he had not just warned his best student that she couldn't snog her boyfriend for at least a month once they started. "Well, I must admit that I am excited for this project, and am already quite personally invested." Minerva grinned; she couldn't help it. "I will let you know soon if I'm confident that we go ahead with Saturday's full moon."
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
"It's my pleasure, Miss McGonagall," he returned, inclining his head. He turned to walk away, but as he did, he glanced at the tapestry on the wall beside where he'd been standing next to her. He looked back at her. Minerva crossed her arms under his knowing gaze. The best hiding place in Hogwarts was just three turns of her heel away.
"It's still an option," she said in response to the suggestion in his eyes.
Dumbledore laughed and turned to walk away. Minerva smiled to herself as she watched him go.
Dinner had begun in the Great Hall, but Minerva found herself dithering in the Entrance Hall. Other students passed her, coming down from the grand staircase, up from the floors below, and from both her right and left. Watching couples pass her, hand-in-hand, some young witches with flowers in their hair, Minerva was struck with the reminder that it was still Valentine's Day. Her perfect weekend felt so long ago already. Though while these couples walked closely and the flowers remained as evidence of a good day, their somber expressions reflected more of how Minerva was feeling. Word of what happened to Eve and Jason had surely spread by now.
A hand on her arm made Minerva jump, shaking her out of her reverie. She jerked her head around as a familiar voice exclaimed, "Oh, hi, it's me!"
Minerva blinked down at Pomona, her brain first marveling at how short average height was from her perspective, before catching up with the present and giving her friend a tight smile.
"How are you feeling?" Pomona asked with a sympathetic smile.
Minerva shrugged. She couldn't think of the words to form a response. She wasn't quite sure how she was feeling.
"This one strikes close to home, I'm sure," Pomona pressed.
Minerva looked down at her hands, clasping them in front of her. Finally, she murmured, "They all do."
Pomona squeezed her arm. Minerva's eyes darted back up to meet Pomona's and gave her that tense smile again. The Hufflepuff tried a different avenue, "Poppy told me what happened after. Have you spoken to Oliver?"
"No," Minerva replied quietly, but she didn't look away again. "He didn't come looking for me."
"Well, Poppy did encourage him to give you space," Pomona said with a hopeful smile.
"I heard her."
Pomona's smile faltered, and then she said, "Maybe he just couldn't find you."
"I wasn't hard to find. Dumbledore found me," Minerva said.
Pomona raised her eyebrows at that, "Dumbledore went looking for you?"
Finally, a more genuine smile graced Minerva's features, and she explained, "He came to tell me that he thinks I can begin my project soon."
"Your project –? Oh! Yes! Oh, that's so exciting, Minerva!" Pomona exclaimed. "I'm sure that was welcome news."
"It was," Minerva agreed, but her smile faded and she averted her gaze as she was reminded of why.
Pomona squeezed Minerva's arm again, tilting her head to catch Minerva's eyes. Minerva did not look away, but laughed softly through her nose at the angle Pomona craned her neck in to accomplish this. Pomona grinned. Minerva straightened, and Pomona did too, thankful.
"Did Poppy tell you what we said?" Minerva asked.
"What she could remember," Pomona replied. "One thing in particular that stood out was after you asked if he was a Gryffindor, he said he was, but…"
"He wasn't stupid," Minerva finished, pursing her lips.
"You know he didn't mean it like that. He thinks the world of you," Pomona said softly.
"I know," Minerva murmured. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and Pomona's heart went out to her friend. She looked so defeated.
Pomona licked her lips and said, "I don't know what's going on inside his head. What I do know is what went on inside Hufflepuff house after David Crowley was attacked." Minerva looked her in the eyes, intrigued. "Many people reacted like you. They wanted to find out who did this and make them pay for hurting one of us."
Minerva raised her eyebrows, "That's a little more violent than what I'd expect from Hufflepuffs."
Pomona laughed, "Then, my dear friend, you know very little about Hufflepuffs."
Minerva couldn't help it – she laughed in response to that. Pomona grinned. Once Minerva's laughter died down, she continued, "Others, though, were resistant. Like Oliver. They wanted to leave it to the professors. And this wasn't divided between young ones and older students; people from all years were on both sides. One of the ones who didn't want to make the attack her business was my friend Katherine. When I asked her about her perspective, we ended up crying together." Minerva blinked in surprise. Pomona grimaced and continued, "She said it was all too much. Nowhere feels safe anymore, and that's something I'm sure you can relate to. The idea that inside the walls of Hogwarts, we weren't any safer than we'd be outside them is terrifying. Maybe…that reality is scary even for a Gryffindor."
Minerva didn't say anything at first to that, but Pomona's assessment struck a chord with her. She was afraid, but she put on a brave face as a Prefect, and as a friend. Perhaps Pomona was right. Perhaps this was Oliver's way of putting on a brave face.
She cleared her throat and said wryly, "Well, Pomona, if you think Gryffindors aren't afraid of anything, you know very little about Gryffindors." Pomona smiled, laughing softly through her nose. She rubbed Minerva's arm soothingly, looking up at her expectantly. Minerva elaborated, "You can't be brave without fear. So, maybe you're right about Oliver."
Pomona smiled wider, and Minerva smiled back. She turned towards the doors to the Great Hall and sighed. Pomona bumped her shoulder playfully and said, "You can do it."
Minerva looked down at her. "Thank you, Pomona."
"Anytime," she replied, giving Minerva a one-armed hug. Minerva returned the hug, and led the way into the Great Hall.
Her eyes found Oliver's red hair easily. He was sitting across from Donnie and Augusta. Richard sat beside Oliver, and Theodore beside Donnie. On their other side were Prewett and Nicholas. They all had serious expressions on their faces as they talked quietly. For a moment, Minerva's chest tightened as the paranoid thought entered her mind that they were talking about her. It was more likely, though, that they'd be talking about their two housemates who were the newest residents of the Hospital Wing. The paranoia nagged at her again, though, as Donnie made eye contact with her and stopped talking. Minerva's steps faltered at that, but she was walking again by the time Oliver looked around at what Donnie was looking at. He stood as Minerva approached, an earnest, apologetic expression on his face. Minerva's heart warmed at that, some of the tension slipping away. He didn't think she was a terrible bitch. That was good. She smiled back.
"Minerva, I –" he began.
Minerva glanced around significantly at the Gryffindors on their right and the Hufflepuffs on their left in the unusually quiet Great Hall, "We can talk about it after dinner, okay?" She squeezed his hand reassuringly.
Oliver swallowed hard and nodded. Minerva smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek. Oliver grinned at that, and gestured for her to take a seat on the bench before him.
As soon as Minerva sat down, Augusta leaned over the table and asked, "How are you? Are you close to Eve?"
Minerva grimaced, "Not as close as I suddenly feel like I ought to be."
"I didn't mean –"
"Oh no, it's not you. This simply has put into perspective what my relationship with her is truly like. She was kind and very helpful when I became a Prefect last year, but after I got my bearings, we went our separate ways," Minerva explained.
"I don't think that's something you should feel guilty about, though," Donnie said as he cut into his shepherd's pie. "People are different. You can't force a connection that's not there. And she's going to be alright, so if you really think you're missing out on something, you can try to be friends with her when she wakes up."
Minerva nodded, selecting her own shepherd's pie from the middle of the table. She spent most of the meal focused on eating. She didn't have much to say, and it seemed that her friends didn't either. They, too, ate quietly. There really wasn't much to say; nothing new had been learned about the attacks from what happened to Eve and Jason.
Oliver finished eating before her, and sat beside her quietly, waiting, pushing crumbs around his plate. Once she finished eating, she used his shoulder for support as she maneuvered her legs back over the bench without leaning into Richard on her other side. Oliver looked up at her as she did this and set down his fork once he realized they were finally leaving. They waved goodbye to their friends and made their way out of the Great Hall in silence.
As soon as they stepped into the Great Hall, Oliver said, "Minerva, I just want to say that you are one of the smartest people I know."
Minerva sighed, but she smiled at him indulgently.
"Really," Oliver insisted. "Whether you know I didn't mean it or if you still think I did, I want to say that because I've been thinking that I don't say it enough. Minerva McGonagall, you're a fucking genius."
Minerva laughed. Oliver grinned. As her laughter died down, she placed one of her hands on his cheek and drew him close, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. They pressed their foreheads together and wrapped their arms around each other. Minerva sighed and murmured, "I love you."
"I love you, too."
They pulled away, meeting each other's eyes seriously, both unsure of where to begin but knowing they needed to talk. Minerva clasped her hands and started sliding her fingers together, apart, and back together. Oliver directed his attention to her hands as if what they were doing was the most fascinating thing in the world.
Finally, Minerva said, "I felt like you weren't seeing my perspective. I felt like you didn't understand that I can't simply let it go, that you didn't understand how these attacks affect me."
"I do see it affecting you," he said. "That's where I was coming from. That's why I was trying to…to help you let go."
"But what I'm saying is that I can't," Minerva said. "I feel guilty for just moving on after something like that happens."
"That's not your burden. They're not your responsibility," Oliver replied.
Minerva shook her head, "Maybe not, but as a Prefect, as a student tutor, as part of the whole reason there's a bloody Dueling Club in the first place, I do feel like it is."
Oliver sighed, and his shoulders slumped. They stared at each other. Minerva waited for him to say something. Finally, he said, "Then I suppose that's your way of coping with it all."
"It is."
"I can't say I understand it," he continued quietly. "Personally, if I make this whole Chamber of Secrets nonsense my business, I'll go mental. My emotions are already stretched thin as it is, worrying about my parents, my little brother, and my little sister out there where the Walpurgisnacht are setting houses on fire of people they don't like."
Minerva bowed her head and nodded, "I understand." She looked up and made eye contact with him again. They exchanged small, sad smiles, and she said, "I won't try to push you into any detective work if you stop trying to make me stop?"
Oliver ran his hand through his hair and chuckled, "Deal."
Minerva grinned and wrapped her arms around him again. He wrapped his arms around her, too, and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, Minerva pressed her hands against his back, urging him to lean in again for more. He grinned and joked, "What happened to the Minerva McGonagall who pulled me into this room for a chat about public displays of affection?"
Minerva laughed and replied, "Certain events put her life into perspective." He raised his eyebrows at her, and she grinned broadly before adding, "And, she fell in love."
Oliver beamed, and kissed her again.