A/N: Updated April 2021.

For disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Nine: November 7, 1941

"Rosin, Lupin, wands down!" Minerva shouted at the Gryffindors, angrily bursting into the abandoned classroom. "What do you think you're playing at, hmm? You both know better than to start cursing each other in broad daylight!"

Her two housemates had the grace to look embarrassed, but neither lowered their wands. Not for the first time, Minerva cursed Dumbledore for making her a Prefect. Merlin knew she had had to deal with more nonsense in the last two months than in the past four years combined. She flipped her braid over her shoulder, eyes blazing. Putting on her best professor voice, she repeated herself, "Wands down. Now."

"Minerva, listen," Parvati began. "It was just a stupid fight."

Minerva glared at the seventh year. "Yes, it was a stupid fight. I don't know why you felt the need to start hexing each other, but I'm ending it. Don't push me, Lupin. I have no desire to take this to Dumbledore. He'll keep you from the Quidditch game next weekend."

Parvati gaped at her teammate. "Why would you want me banned? You're on my team!"

"I don't want you banned," Minerva willed herself to not roll her eyes. "As hard as it may be to believe, I would actually like to win. I would love to win the Cup every year of my Hogwarts career, and we're halfway there. But," she returned to the issue at hand, "if you don't lower your wand and stop with this nonsense, then I will have no choice."

"For the love of Morgana," Parvati mumbled, shoving her wand in her robes. Minerva was pleased to see that Michael Rosin lowered his wand as well. "We were just having a disagreement."

Michael snorted. "Yea, over you shoving your tongue down Jaime's throat! What happened to going steady, you stupid trollop!"

"ENOUGH!" Minerva thundered. After only two months of her tenure as Prefect, Minerva was quickly coming to the realization that arguments at Hogwarts almost always came down to two things: stopping couples from disrobing each other in the hallway, or breaking up near-duels sprouting from a lovers' quarrel. It was enough to turn her off the notion of love, it really was. She looked at Aidan's roommate. "Michael, I'm sure you didn't mean that now, did you?"

He seemed to shrink under her gaze. "No, I suppose not. Sorry, Lupin. You're not a trollop."

"And?" Minerva prompted, hating that she had to treat them like children.

"And, you're not stupid." His eyes filled with hatred. "You're just cruel."

"I'm sorry, Michael. I told you- it was one time! And we had had way too much to drink," Parvati tried to explain.

"You both are horrible at this," Minerva sighed, pinching her nose. "Tell me you didn't just admit to underage drinking on school grounds, Parvati?"

"Oh...um, no?" Parvati offered.

"Good Lord, you're all hopeless," Minerva spat.

"Who's hopeless?" Aidan entered the room good-naturedly, hopping onto a desk. At Minerva's glare, he shrugged. "As the other fifth-year Gryffindor Prefect, I was informed there was a spat in here. Thought you might be able to use the back-up."

"Aidan, would you please escort Michael back to the common room? Have him sleep in the isolation room for a couple of nights; I don't want him anywhere near Jaime. Make sure he doesn't make a break for it," Minerva ordered, her no-nonsense tone causing the boys to act quickly. Once they had left, she turned towards Parvati. "Now, Parv, I know that it must have been hard when Samuel broke up with you, but the answer isn't to jump from boy to boy. Honestly."

"What would you know?" Parvati curled her lip. "You're two years lower than me, and you've had absolutely no experience with men. None. Who are you to give me advice?"

This was a sore subject for Minerva, and both girls knew it. Minerva didn't want to date anyone, per se; she knew she didn't have the time for it and didn't feel up to the Herculean task of figuring out what in her life would have to suffer to make room for a relationship. Not a lot of boys had shown their interest, either. She thanked Riddle internally for that: he had a knack for not-so-subtly scaring off any potential suitors. Minerva often fondly recalled a moment where Riddle had chased a particularly persistent Lucas Longbottom away from approaching a suspiciously out of season mistletoe branch, obviously meant for Minerva and Lucas. Yes, that had been a glorious memory. And yet, as much as it was painful to admit, Minerva hated that she was missing out on something that seemed to be an otherwise universal experience.

"Parv," Minerva said gently, "I just mean that you're obviously hurting, and the way to ease that pain isn't to flirt with fifteen-year-old boys. You need to fix yourself first."

Parvati sniffled, clearly surrendering. "I'll maintain that you don't know anything on the topic, but you probably have a point."

"I usually do," Minerva hummed her agreement. "Now, I actually am really keen for you to play in the match, so please don't upset anyone else."

"You just know that I'm your best chance of winning the Cup again," Parvati teased, mirth flowing into her eyes. "You know, maybe I'll be able to play professionally, or something. Find me a nice Quidditch bloke. Probably more skilled with wood, if you know what I mean."

"Unfortunately, yes, I do. Will you be coming back with me to the common room, or will you do me a favour and make yourself scarce for a while?" Minerva asked, turning to leave.

"I think I may go to the library," Parvati laughed. "Keep those boys from fawning over me for a little while longer."

"You're hopeless," Minerva sighed again, though she was wearing a light smile. "Have a good evening, Parvati." She walked to the Gryffindor common room and headed straight for Aidan, who was talking with Charlotte. "How did that go on your end?"

Aidan's head shot up. "How did what go?"

Minerva stared at him. "Michael. Jaime. Isolation Room. Making sure people don't hex each other to death?"

"I'll leave you both to it, then. Have a good night, guys." Charlotte gathered her things and headed upstairs.

Aidan turned on his friend. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm sorry, what? I was asking you how it went with the boys," Minerva clarified, confused. "I wasn't playing at-"

"I finally had Charlotte alone, and for once, she wasn't treating me like a git, and then you come in here and bust it all up!" Aidan huffed. "Read the room, McGonagall!"

Minerva stared at her friend, feeling her heart glide over her stomach and down her legs until it crashed on the floor. It would seem that love had found a way to infiltrate even her longest, infallible partnership. "You like Charlotte? What happened to thinking everyone in love was an idiot?"

"Yea, well," Aidan squirmed. "I caught the feelings, McGonagall. I caught them hard."

She didn't know how to handle this conversation. It was untested waters for their friendship. Diving in, Minerva kept it as simple as she could. "Since when?"

"Since she had that potion blow up in her face at the beginning of the year," Aidan sat back, relaxing now that he had relieved himself of his secret. "Her hair was all funny-looking, and even then, I couldn't stop thinking how pretty she was. And then I saw her on the grounds, taking pictures of people with one of those funny muggle things?"

"Cameras," Minerva supplied.

"Yea, and I noticed how pretty she looked when the wind caught her hair, and then all of a sudden, I realized that she smelled nice. Like," he shrugged, "daisies or something."

"You know what daisies smell like?"

"Well, no, but she smelled nice, McGonagall, that's the point here. I asked her about those camradars, and she told me that she was muggle-born, but that they had found a magical ancestor way back in her family tree. Oh, and she likes chocolate, so then I got her a chocolate frog, but she's really only started opening up to me in the past two weeks or so. Tonight was the first night I had her alone," Aidan leaned forward, looking intently into Minerva's eyes. "I had to convince her there was nothing between us, and just when I finished doing that, you came in and helped yourself to a seat!"

Minerva was blushing now. "Aidan, I didn't know. I'm sorry, honestly. I'll, um," she searched her brain for what to say. "I'll be a bit more aware, in future. If you ever want to be alone, just, like, tug on your ear, or something."

"Brilliant, McG. I knew you were my best friend for a reason! Any idea on how to get her to love me?" Aidan threw his arm around her.

"You should probably stop that," Minerva shrugged out from under his arm, even though it killed some part of her to know that their friendship was on shifting sand. "And, I'll handle it."

"I don't like the sound of that, McG," Aidan said, worried. "You don't understand love or romance or anything about this sort of stuff!"

Well, that did it. Minerva had heard enough of that today, thank you very much. "Shut up, Aidan, and let me handle it." Minerva turned and walked up to her dormitories, knowing that he couldn't follow her. She opened the door and sat down on Charlotte's bed. "Hey, Charlotte."

"Hi, Minerva," Charlotte closed her book, eyeing her warily. The two had never been close, and Minerva had a sneaking suspicion that would need to change. "What's up?"

"I honestly have no idea what I'm saying here, Charlotte, but I don't have any...designs on Aidan. I mean, I don't have feelings for him, and there isn't anything going on, okay? We're just best friends, and I guess we'll have to change how we act a bit, but he obviously cares for you," Minerva bit her lip. "Just don't break his heart because you think there's something where there's nothing, alright?"

Charlotte beamed. "Min, you're the best. You really are something, you know that, right? Is he still downstairs?"

"I think so. If not," Minerva turned scarlet, "you can always go see him in his dorm."

Charlotte gave her a quick hug before running out the door. And when Aidan gave her a big hug the next morning, Minerva swallowed roughly, hoping she hadn't lost her friend.

Two weeks had passed since Charlotte and Aidan got together, and Minerva felt more and more disillusioned with love. On top of the usual fights and make-out sessions that she was forced to interrupt, she was now bombarded with love everywhere she went. Charlotte and Aidan couldn't keep their arms off of each other, and every study session involved some version of her clearing her throat as she attempted to tactfully stop their snogging. Her lousy mood took a turn for the worse when Minerva found them in a broom cupboard one afternoon, cursing Aidan for bringing shame to the Prefect role. He made it worse when he attempted to point out that Callum had once done the same thing.

"I don't care what Callum did," Minerva hissed. "He wasn't my responsibility as Prefect. Unfortunately, you are my responsibility. Kindly comport yourself with a modicum of decorum."

"What's a modicum?" Aidan mumbled, Charlotte fixing his tie. "Ok, probably not the point. I get it, McG. We'll settle down. Promise," he added, looking very much like he didn't mean a word he said. "While you're here, though, did you see Dumbledore screwed up with the patrol schedule? Why are we with the Slytherins for every single patrol?"

"I don't know," Minerva admitted. "I was on my way to ask him when I stumbled upon you two."

"Let me know what he says?" Aidan asked.

"Of course," Minerva said, somewhat affronted that he didn't think she'd take the job seriously. "Can I trust you two to make it back to the common room without any more dallying?"

Charlotte giggled. "Yea, Min. We'll be fine." She took Aidan's hand and winked at Minerva as she led the two of them out of the cupboard.

Minerva rubbed at her brow, thoroughly annoyed with the migraine threatening to seep into her skull. Thinking she'd ask Dumbledore if he had a Pepper-Up potion, she walked towards his office. Hearing loud voices, Minerva came to a stop outside the door.

"Albus, this is ridiculous!" A woman shouted. "How dare you say that? How could you say such a thing?"

"Clara, there is a war going on," Minerva heard Dumbledore address the Defence professor. "We both know that at some point, either one or both of us will have to enter the fray, and there's nothing more dangerous than being romantically involved with a fellow fighter."

Minerva's eyes widened. She knew she should leave, but there was something so captivating about the fact that her professors were, in fact, humans with actual personal lives. Personal lives that seemed so much more interesting than her own. Shaking that thought, she leaned in to hear Carter's response.

"There was a war going on last year, Albus! And the year before! You didn't think it a problem to drag me into your bed then!"

Oh bollocks, Minerva groaned. I didn't need to know that. I didn't need to know that.

"With all due respect, Clara, the war has infinitely worsened far more than I could have ever imagined-"

"SHUT UP!" Carter bellowed. Even if Minerva hadn't been eavesdropping, she sure as hell would have heard that in the hallway. "Your excuse for ending this is because the war got worse? That's bullshit, and you know it. Albus, if you don't love me anymore -or frankly, if you never really did- you don't need to lie. I'm a big girl. Who happens to have a great repertoire of curses at her disposal."

"I'm aware of your talents, Clara." For the first time, Dumbledore seemed to break. "I just can't have people that I care about, not now, not when Grindelwald is out there ripping apart the very fabric of our society."

"Then you're a lesser man than I would have thought. War isn't a reason to stop loving, Albus. More than ever, it's a time to fall in love. To cry and to open up and to battle things together. It's not a reason to shirk your feelings over a sense of duty that, quite frankly, makes absolutely no sense."

Minerva heard footsteps, and she jumped back, hopefully making it look like she had just rounded the corner. Unfortunately, she couldn't right herself enough to prevent her professor from barging right into her.

"What on earth? Oh, I'm sorry, Miss McGonagall," Carter sighed, and Minerva was embarrassed to notice the tear tracks on her face. "Do you need anything?"

"Um, no Professor," Minerva looked shyly at her, "I actually need to see Professor Dumbledore about the Prefect patrol schedule."

"Ah well, in that case," Carter snorted humourlessly, "go on in. He's available." She stormed off, and Minerva waited for a second before knocking on the door, Gryffindor courage blooming inside her.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" Minerva called tentatively. "Could I ask you a question?

Dumbledore was sitting in his chair, his glasses strewn across the surface of the desk, fingers gently tapping a glass of brandy. "Don't do me the disservice of pretending you didn't hear that, Miss McGonagall," he advised her. "You look as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

"I'm not sure what that expression means, Professor," Minerva admitted, entering the room and shutting the door behind her.

"It means that you look both terrified and embarrassed to be seen in my presence. Seeing as that hasn't happened over the past four years, I'm inclined to believe that you heard something that you shouldn't have heard." He gestured at the chair opposite him. "Sit down."

"I didn't mean to intrude, sir," Minerva said, somewhat defensively. "I needed to see you about the patrol schedule, and it's been a rough day, so I thought I would sort at least one of my problems before I go to bed. Do you happen to have a Pepper-Up potion, by chance?"

"I know the feeling," Dumbledore murmured, summoning a potion and handing it to her. "I can't say that I've ever been in this position before, Miss McGonagall."

"I should hope not," Minerva blurted, and then quickly covered her mouth. "Um, I just mean, Professor, that I would hope that you've never had your privacy breached like that."

He laughed. "And I simply mean to say that I've never had to explain my personal life to a student before."

"Sir, you don't really need to explain anything to me," Minerva assured him hastily. "Truly, it's better if we don't discuss it. I won't say anything to anyone, and no one will be the wiser." She paused, meeting his eyes. "If I may overstep, however?"

"You may," his lips quirked.

"I think you made the right call, Professor. War isn't the time for anything...extra-curricular. Particularly when we all might be dead at the end of it," Minerva hesitated. "I don't really think romance is all that appealing at the best of times, let alone during a war."

Dumbledore studied his student. "Very astute, Miss McGonagall. Would I be correct in presuming that your rough day also has something to do with matters of the heart?"

"Well," Minerva huffed, not expecting this shift in conversation, "sort of. But not my own."

"Now you really must explain," Dumbledore smiled. "Whatever is going on in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts?"

"Being a Prefect has opened my eyes to all of the illicit activity going on, Professor," Minerva groaned. "The number of stupid fights about crushes and who is going out with who, it would drive anyone to drink. And that doesn't even include all of the snogging going on! Merlin, I even found Aidan and-" she stopped short, not wanting to incriminate Aidan.

"Ah, Mr. Scrimgeour? Are you upset that he seems to be taken with Miss Creevey?"

"What? Oh no," Minerva was aghast. "No, Professor, no, not like that. Ohhhh, no, no, no." She turned scarlet, hiding her face in her arms.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I think, if anyone has reason to be hiding their face, it would be me."

"Right," Minerva mumbled, sitting back up. "In the interest of baring scars, Professor, no, I don't want to date Aidan. I'm just merely annoyed that my best friend seems to be changing before my eyes."

"Love will do that to a person," Dumbledore replied. "Give him some time to adjust, as it were."

"Professor," Minerva started, not knowing what was possessing her to keep talking, "I hate that everyone around me is caught up in some sort of infatuation."

"You always were more mature than the rest of your classmates, and sometimes that means you don't find yourself fascinated with the mundane trials of high school love," Dumbledore waved his arms. "You have more important things to focus on, and it seems secondary. Not everyone is that good at compartmentalizing their lives, Miss McGonagall. Not even myself. At some point, someone will catch your interest, I don't doubt."

"I do doubt it, Professor. I don't have the time to be interested in someone; everyone makes a relationship seem like so much work. Besides," she snorted, "I'm sure they'd all just be scared off, anyway."

"By what, exactly?" Dumbledore questioned amusingly. His eyes narrowed when she didn't give him an immediate answer. "By what, Miss McGonagall?"

"Riddle seems to think it's his responsibility to scare anyone away," Minerva whispered. "He chased away Longbottom, and he definitely got the Bloody Baron to haunt Crispin Thomas for a while. Honestly, Professor, it's not that bad, really. It saves me the effort and the time."

"Do I need to remind you that he has branded you? That by not stopping him, you are probably encouraging him? That at some point, he will undoubtedly make a move you may not be able to stop?" Dumbledore said dangerously. "I have told you numerous times that he is not someone with whom you should be keeping company."

"I am not keeping company with him." Minerva looked at him forcefully, suddenly registering just what they were discussing. "I am well aware of the type of person he is, and I will not date him. You have my word on that. Now, Professor, I'd really prefer to stop discussing my love life, if that's agreeable. I would like to talk to you about the patrol schedule. We're not supposed to only be patrolling with the Slytherins, and that's what you've outlined here." She reached into her bag and pulled out the schedule, shoving it on his desk.

Dumbledore eyed her carefully. It suddenly struck him that she was no longer a first-year student, terrified for her sister and needing protection. "I'll take a look at it, Miss McGonagall. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I'll have a new one ready for you tomorrow in class."

"Thank you, Professor," Minerva replied, perhaps more sternly than the situation required. She got up to leave, but he stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"Have you given any thought to your OWLs, Miss McGonagall?" he asked her.

"Of course I have. They're a bit far away now, but I've already started revising," Minerva shrugged. "Why do you ask, Professor?"

"I'll admit to being a bit overwhelmed with my workload," Dumbledore sighed. "The Ministry is on my case about aiding with the war effort, Armando isn't doing as much correspondence as he should, and my marking is shamefully falling by the wayside. As I'm sure you could glean, I'm not coping well," he referenced his not-so-private conversation. "It would appear that you aren't, either. I propose that, for extra credit, you could come and help me mark some of the younger years' assignments. In return, I can help prepare you for your OWLs. I'm sure you'll pass with flying colours, but I could pre-empt the inevitable barrage of questions that will surely come my way later this year."

She narrowed her eyes despite the blush creeping up her neck. "Why do I feel this is a way to keep me out of Riddle's view?"

"While I'll admit this arrangement does serve that purpose, I genuinely need the help," Dumbledore frowned. "I hope you don't think I'm trying to proposition you, Miss McGonagall, I-"

"Oh heavens, no," Minerva looked up, cursing the world for making her live through this particular day. "I didn't think that. Good Lord. I'm just not quite sure what to make of your interference in my life." She bravely held up her hand, continuing, "I appreciate the concern, though. And I could use the study help. Does Thursday work? After dinner?"

"Yes, quite," Dumbledore nodded. "I appreciate the help."

"And I appreciate the offer," Minerva strolled to the door, pausing in the doorway. "Good night, Professor. I hope you...I hope you feel better in the morning."

"And you as well, Miss McGonagall." Dumbledore waved his hand, shutting the door behind her gently, and Minerva caught a glimpse of his hand pressing the glass of brandy to his lips. She shook her head and walked down the corridor, praying to Merlin and God and Morgana and every other deity that she could go to bed without encountering another kissing couple.