A/N: While I know there is a prologue and this is marked by FF as "Chapter Fifty-One", this feels like chapter fifty to me. Thanks for sticking with me through it so far!

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Fifty: December 1951

"Mumma!" Dalton jumped on his mother's bed early in the morning. "It's Christmas!"

Minerva bit back a groan as she turned over to see her son beaming at her. "Darling, it's early."

"Yeah, but Santa came!"

She smiled. "Did you already look under the Christmas tree?"

Dalton nodded happily. "Yup! There are a lot of presents!"

The grin on his face was so wide that it made Minerva laugh. "Are there? Are they all for you?"

"No, Mumma! Some are for you, too!" He poked her arm. "Let's go! Wake up!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Minerva resigned herself to the early morning, shook the fatigue from her system, and summoned her dressing gown. Since Aidan's death, she was trying to do better at being as present as she could be, no matter the situation.

Christmas morning with her son was more important than sleep.

She flicked her wand at the kettle, walked into the living room and grinned when she saw Dalton had already opened two presents while waiting for her. "What do we have here, hmmm?"

"A broom!" Dalton yelled excitedly. "My own broom!"

"You can only fly that outside," Minerva said firmly. "I don't want you to break anything in the house."

"You can fix things with your wand, Mumma." Dalton looked at her sternly. "Let's open more presents!"

"Go ahead, darling. Mummy's going to sit here and drink some tea." Minerva Summoned her mug and sighed happily as her tea warmed her. "What did Santa bring you?"

Dalton talked to her as he opened all of his presents. He showed her a helmet for his new broomstick, a few books, and more than enough toys. Minerva had spoiled the boy, but she had rationalized the number of excessive gifts, knowing he had had a tough year.

She smiled as he began to gather the discarded wrapping paper. "We can worry about that after we eat breakfast. I still have my presents to open, remember."

Despite her teasing tone, Dalton held onto the paper. "How come these presents are from Mummy and Daddy?" Dalton looked at her with a look of innocence on his face. "I thought you said Daddy was in Heaven now."

Minerva sighed deeply and sent her tea to rest on the kitchen table. "Come here, darling." He scrambled into her arms and she held him silently for a moment. Dalton somehow still had that new baby smell, and she took a moment to rest her head on his.

After Aidan had died, her mother had told her that the firsts were the worst: first birthdays, first anniversaries, first holidays. Minerva had done her best to be happy for Christmas. She wanted Dalton to still have a wonderful time, and it was her hope that he would come to learn that while holidays without his father would be different, they would still be special.

"Mumma?" Dalton looked up at her, his green eyes so like her own that they startled her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, darling, I'm fine. Now, you wanted to know why Daddy's name is still on the presents?"

Dalton nodded. "I don't get it."

"Well, you're right. Daddy is in Heaven. Even though we miss him, and even though he isn't here anymore, he still loves you. Daddy loved picking out your Christmas gifts, so they're from both of us." Minerva bit her lip. She had absolutely no idea how to explain death and grief to a child. "Does that make sense?"

"Sort of." He shifted in her arms. "You said Daddy can't come back, right?"

Pain struck her heart. "No, sweetie, I'm afraid he can't. It's sad, and it's okay if it makes you angry, but he loved you so much."

"And I love him!" Dalton pronounced proudly. He took Minerva's hand and held it to his chest. "Uncle Cal said he's still in my heart!"

Minerva silently thanked her brother. "Yes, he's there. And as long as he's with you in your heart, you'll always have Daddy."

"Right." Dalton accepted this with a nod and then looked up at his mother. "Did I make you sad?"

"No, darling." Minerva forced a smile onto her face. "I just miss your Daddy, that's all."

He rolled his eyes in a very Aidan-like manner. "You said it's okay to miss him!"

"It is," Minerva chuckled. "But it's also okay if missing him makes us sad." She surreptitiously wiped a tear away. "Now, what do you say we have some breakfast, and then you and I go flying before we go to Granny's?"

"Can I show Mira and Fee my new broom?" Dalton's eyes went wide.

Minerva laughed gently. Her son still couldn't correctly pronounce his cousins' names, instead opting for a middle name and a nickname, respectively. "Yes, we can bring it with us when we go."

Four hours later, the duo arrived at McGonagall Manor, Dalton's worn-in broomstick in hand.

"Happy Christmas, you two!" Isobel called as she opened the door. "Come in. Everyone else is already inside."

"Is that my favourite nephew?" Callum popped around the corner and held his arms open for a hug.

"I'm your only nephew!" Dalton yelled. He ran and catapulted himself into his uncle's arms. "Mumma got me a new broom!"

"Did she?" Callum cocked an eyebrow at his sister. "Then she won't mind if we take it flying!"

"Bring his helmet, Cal!" Minerva warned. She sighed when Callum Summoned the helmet from her arms. "And keep an eye on him!"

"I can't believe you bought him a broom," Isobel chuckled. "He'll be flying all over the place."

"Perhaps I indulged him a little more than was necessary," Minerva admitted, accepting a kiss on the cheek from her mother. "How are you?"

Isobel waved her hand. "We're all fine. Iolanthe and Aoife are buzzing, as all children tend to do on Christmas. Ro and Poppy came bearing lots of food—you've met Ro before, correct? She seems a bit...hyper."

Minerva bit back a laugh. When Poppy had first introduced Ro to Isobel, she was nervous for two reasons: Isobel's husband had been very religious, and no one had any idea if Isobel would question Ro's identity.

To everyone's relief, Isobel hadn't cared about their relationship, and didn't seem to recognize Ro at all.

Ro had been offended at first, but Poppy had quickly reassured her that it was for the best.

"Ro is a bit energetic," Minerva laughed. "She's good for Poppy."

"Yes, it does seem so." Isobel peered at her daughter. "And how are you?"

"You're not going to let me get away by saying I'm fine, are you?"

"No." Isobel took Minerva by the hand and led her into the kitchen. "Come, everyone else is by the tree."

Minerva smiled at the Ross family elves that, since her father's death, had the freedom to do their work in plain sight. "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas, mistress!" they echoed before quickly taking their leave.

"Now, how are you really?" Isobel asked. She groaned as she sank into a chair.

"I'm managing," Minerva said quietly. She rather liked that her relationship with her mother was improving, but their new heart-to-hearts made her somewhat uncomfortable. "It's obviously difficult, but we're managing. Dalton seems to be having a good day, despite..."

"Despite his dad's absence," Isobel finished gently. "He's too young to fully understand it."

"I've tried explaining it, but the poor child is still trying to comprehend books. Grief is complicated. Far too complicated for children, and messier still for adults."

"For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." Isobel took Minerva's chin in her hand and squeezed it softly. "I am so very, very proud of how you're handling the cards you've been dealt."

"I don't have a choice but to handle them. I have a son who needs me."

"Yes, you do. But you also have to take care of yourself. So handle the cards, but don't be afraid to let the rest of us in, okay?" Isobel paused for a moment. "We both know I could have been a better parent—not just in the maternal sense, but in terms of being a role model for you three. Don't let the grief subsume you to the point that you stop living your life."

Minerva's eyebrows flew up. "I wasn't aware that I had stopped living my life."

Isobel smirked. "You have a job that you love, and you spend time with Dalton, yes. But I also have it on good authority that you've stopped going to parties. You no longer drop in on Poppy and Ro. Your brother only sees you if you're both at Albus' house."

"Have any of you realized that I'm now a single parent with more demands on my time?" Minerva huffed.

"Yes, Minerva. We know." Isobel pursed her lips. "That doesn't mean you've lost your entitlement to be more than a professor and a mother."

Minerva wanted to reply with a snarky retort but held it in, knowing it wouldn't do much good. "I appreciate that you all care enough to tell me that."

"And I appreciate that lie." Isobel winked. "Don't forget, you are my daughter. I know you better than you'd like, dear."

"Clearly," Minerva grumbled. "Shall we go and join the others? Have I been sufficiently grilled?"

"Minerva..."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Minerva held up her hands. She left the room and headed towards the Christmas tree, trusting her mother to follow her.

"Aunt Minerva!" Iolanthe cried happily. "Look at all the candy I have!"

Minerva's eyes widened as they settled on a rather large bag from Honeydukes. "Don't eat that all today, all right? You'll never sleep."

"That's what I said," Lucy and Poppy said together.

"You're no fun, Pops." Ro rolled her eyes. "It's Christmas. They're kids. Live a little."

"You're not the one who has to take her home," Poppy chided gently. "Lucy and Callum won't have any rest."

"Callum gave them to her!" Ro protested.

"Mumma!" Dalton yelled. He had his broom in hand and his helmet on his head. "Uncle Cal told me to wait for you. You ready?"

Minerva looked around at her family and smiled. "Yes, darling. I'm ready."

Albus truly hated the New Year's feast at Hogwarts. He didn't see the need for such decadence so soon after the Christmas feast—especially given its drain on the school's food budget—but Armando had installed it as tradition years ago, and Albus wasn't inclined to start chopping traditions in his first year as Headmaster.

Not while Armando's wife still worked with him, at any rate.

Albus looked around at the skeleton crew left at Hogwarts over the holidays. He had chosen to spend the night at school both on Christmas Eve and Christmas. Violet was incensed that he would only be spending a few hours with Athena and herself, but Albus had done his best to assure her that it was his first year in his new role, and he had to act accordingly.

What he hadn't told her was that he had stayed behind so Minerva could have the day off. After every staff member had submitted their preferred holiday leave, it had come down to a choice between himself and Minerva to have Christmas off. Filius had wanted New Year's Eve off, so as the other newest staff member, Minerva would normally have been required to work on Christmas. Albus had determined that he couldn't do that to her—not on her first Christmas without Aidan. So he had made the sacrifice and assured Violet that he would be home shortly after the feast on New Year's Eve.

"Albus, are you listening?" Melody Johnson, his begrudging Deputy in waiting, nudged his arm. "Mr. Shacklebolt is trying to get your attention."

"Oh, I am sorry, dear boy." Albus smiled at the fourth-year Ravenclaw. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering what your favourite part of the holidays is, Professor. I mean, Headmaster." The boy blushed. "I wondered if you might have any fun stories."

"Fun stories? I highly doubt that I, as an old man, would have any stories that you would find fun." Albus winked at the younger students, who giggled. "One time, when I was in my third year, I chose to stay here over the holidays. I wanted to pull a prank on my professors, so I charmed mistletoe to hang over all of the staff's chairs at the head table."

"Tell me it wasn't enchanted mistletoe, Albus," Lavinia groaned.

"Oh, it was." Albus nodded enthusiastically. "It couldn't be removed until the staff had kissed under them. It was quite the nice bit of charm work, if I do say so myself."

"Is that why the feast is now held at one large table, rather than separating the staff and students?" Minerva interjected, smiling.

"One of the reasons, yes. The other is that it provides a much nicer environment—one where students and professors can interact socially. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Shacklebolt?"

"Oh, yes, Headmaster," Shacklebolt agreed, nodding vigorously. "This is lovely."

"And before you get any ideas," Albus eyed the students with a mock glare, "I charmed the ceiling above the staff table so that mistletoe can never be placed there again."

"Never?" A first-year—was it Weasley?—asked.

"Well, not by students, at least." Albus winked.

"And that's quite enough of that," Melody said firmly. "Students, please don't think that you'll witness your professors engaging in salacious acts over breakfast."

"What does salacious mean?" Albus looked for the source of the meek voice. He found it in the potential Weasley—there were too many Weasleys for him to keep track of—who was looking anxiously at Minerva.

Minerva had a look of patient amusement on her face. "In this case, it means you'd see your professors kissing. A lot."

"Ew!" The Weasley girl shuddered.

"Yes, I think I've rather lost my appetite after that particular story," Horace grumbled. "Seeing as I'm duty-free tonight, Albus, am I free to leave?"

"Yes, of course. The night is yours." Albus gestured towards the door, to which Horace sprinted as quickly as he could. "There are only six students here, after all. What do you all intend to do?"

"We're all going to the library," Shacklebolt answered. "We figured we'd get some studying in, and then meet in an empty classroom at midnight."

"What a wonderful display of inter-house camaraderie," Melody said approvingly. "Any particular subject you'll be going over tonight?"

"The older students said they'd help us with some of the harder spells," Sylvia Hopkirk, a second-year Hufflepuff, said shyly. "We're going to get our books after dinner. We didn't know if it would be polite to bring them to a feast."

The remaining staff all shared knowing glances. It was very touching for a young student to consider the New Year's Eve feast as a special event, especially considering that students brought their books to meals every day at Hogwarts.

"That was very kind of you," Minerva said finally. "It was lovely to spend this meal with all of you."

Her remark seemed to end the meal, and everyone rose from their seats. Albus watched as Minerva paused before quickly leaving the Hall.

"Watching our dear Transfiguration mistress?" Lavinia spoke into his ear, scaring him. She chuckled. "At ease, Albus. It's only me."

"I'm just worried about her," Albus responded quietly. "She has seemed...off all day."

"Well, given what she's endured this year, you can't blame her," Lavinia scoffed.

Albus looked at her in surprise. "What do you know?"

"More than you think I do," she replied smoothly. "What are your plans for this evening?"

"To go home." Albus sighed deeply and ran a hand through his beard. Once Armando had officially resigned, Albus had confessed his entire sordid tale to Lavinia and Armando. He omitted the part about soul-bonding—that was as much Minerva's decision as it was his—but he told them about his relationship with the Scot. He had even mentioned the existence of his fiancée and child; Lavinia had been outraged to learn that she had kept that from him.

"What's stopping you?" Lavinia's voice brought him out of his musings.

"Minerva. I want to make sure she's okay."

Lavinia had a knowing look in her eyes. "I'll make sure she's all right. You should go home and see your family." Albus made to protest, but she silenced him with her signature glare that worked on disruptive students in her ward. "Go home, Albus. You'll be back for sleep, won't you?"

Albus said, "Yes, that's the plan. I live here, you know."

"I do know that, yes," Lavinia replied simply. "If Minerva is here when you return and you happen to run into her, you can say something to her. Don't go looking for her, Albus. Not tonight."

With that, the matron strode off purposefully, leaving Albus to wonder what exactly she was implying.

Minerva, who had gladly spent Christmas at home in exchange for duties on New Year's Eve, had a desire to see her old common room. All was quiet, and with the only two students from Gryffindor house still in the castle expected to be with their friends, she figured this would be her best chance to reminisce.

"Is the common room empty?" she asked the Fat Lady softly.

"Yes, the girls are in the library." The portrait looked at her closely. "McGonagall? You were one of my favourites!"

"Thank you. I believe the password is Leo Caput."

"Oh, I'd let you in without a password! All of my favourites get entry whenever they want!"

"Don't make a habit of that," Minerva muttered, crawling through the portrait hole. She made a mental note to tell Albus that the Fat Lady might need a reminder of her duties.

Looking around the common room, Minerva inhaled deeply. It looked exactly like it had when she had last left it in 1944. There may have been an added chair, or an extra blanket, or someone else's books in the corner, but the feeling of the room hadn't changed.

It still felt like home.

She walked to the window seat and sat down on it, leaning her head against the window. "I really hate today," Minerva murmured to herself. "What happened to ensuring I started every year with a smile, Aidan? I highly doubt I'll be smiling at midnight.

"I know you're not here, and I know it's ridiculous to talk to a window in an empty window, but I miss you, Aidan. This is not what life was supposed to be. This is not what I signed up for." Minerva banged a hand against the window before curling into a ball and crying.

Minerva had lost sense of time when she heard a gentle voice behind her. "I thought you might be here. Don't worry, dear. The students are all still in the library."

Minerva turned to see Lavinia Prewett behind her. "Oh, hi." She wiped at her eyes.

Lavinia placed a gentle hand on Minerva's shoulder. "Oh, dearie, don't hide your tears. Not from me."

In October, over a number of glasses of wine that she would later regret, Minerva had confessed everything to her old nurse. To Lavinia's credit, she had taken everything in stride. She had held Minerva's hand as Minerva told her about the bond with Albus, her secret marriage to Aidan, Dalton, and finally, Aidan's death.

It spoke volumes about Lavinia's character that she was willing to spend tonight with Minerva, rather than with her husband on his first New Year's Eve as a retired man.

"Sorry. It's a habit," Minerva admitted. She sat up and fully showed Lavinia her red face. "I didn't expect today to be this difficult, to be honest."

"Well, you said Aidan proposed to you on New Year's Eve, right? I can only imagine how difficult this anniversary must be." Lavinia smiled sympathetically.

"Five years ago, Aidan took me out on my brother's balcony and proposed," Minerva said, smiling slightly. "It was one of the best nights of my life."

"Sounds romantic." Lavinia sat down on a couch and patted the cushion next to her. "Come."

Minerva sighed and sat down. "It was romantic, but in Aidan's special way."

Lavinia smirked. "Was he bad at romance?"

"Not bad. He was quite good at it, actually." Minerva smiled. "Aidan just made everyone laugh. It didn't matter if the situation was serious, romantic, or light-hearted. He always made everyone happy."

"He had an air about him," Lavinia agreed. At Minerva's questioning gaze, she elaborated, "He was in the hospital wing a fair bit. Sometimes he was hurt, but often he accompanied his friends when his pranks got a little out of hand. We got to know each other quite well."

"Oh, I didn't realize you two were friends." Minerva frowned. "Had I known that, I would have had you and Armando over."

"He didn't know we were married, dear girl. You're still the only student—other than our children, of course—who knows that particular secret." The two women shared a smile. Lavinia's face softened. "I don't know where you're at in terms of your thinking, but if you ever wanted to date again, my youngest son is about ten years older than you. I would think he's too old for you, but given what I know about you and Albus, I—"

"Lavinia!" Minerva interjected, scandalized.

"It was funny. You can laugh," Lavinia teased.

Minerva sighed with a light smile on her lips. "Yes, it was funny. And you're right: ten years isn't much of an age gap given my history. But with all due respect to your son, I don't think I'll be ready to date for a long time. I don't regret my relationships—even Michael—but I haven't truly been a single adult. I'd like to just take the time to mourn Aidan and raise Dalton without any distractions."

"I see." Lavinia eyed her former student. "Do you mind if I challenge you on that?"

"You're going to do so, no matter my response."

"Touché." Lavinia laughed before running a comforting hand over Minerva's hair. "Raising a child while working at Hogwarts can be immensely challenging. It was hard living and working in the same place—I can't imagine how hard it must be to parent Dalton while essentially working a live-in job with live-in hours. Especially now that you're single."

"It's difficult, but it's manageable," Minerva said. She found herself dreading the direction of their conversation. "I'm not going to find a partner simply to make my life easier."

Lavinia smirked. "I'm sure Albus would make it easier."

"Lavinia, why on earth would you think that could ever work again?" Minerva gaped.

"Because I think Albus still loves you. If you ever are ready to date again, might I suggest starting there?"

"Lavinia, he's engaged."

"He's only engaged because you weren't available."

"On the contrary, I think he is engaged because Violet was pregnant with his child," Minerva commented drily.

Lavinia looked at her pointedly. "He was only dating her because he was trying to get over you."

Minerva blushed. "Lavinia, that's preposterous."

"No, it's not. He told Armando as much one night after far too much Firewhisky. Albus said that he didn't think he could ever stop loving you, but that you seemed happy with Aidan, so he wanted to find happiness, too. As horrible as it sounds, he would leave Violet in an instant if you wanted him."

The very thought made Minerva's heart pound. "Absolutely not. He wouldn't do that, and he wouldn't be the man I think he is if he did. And, as I said, I want to stay single."

"And that's your prerogative, my dear. But I'm not wrong." Lavinia winked before extending her hand. "We should leave before the remaining Gryffindors come back for the night. Why don't you come with me back to my office for a nightcap? There are so few students here; I highly doubt we'll be needed. Besides, we can be done before your final rounds of the night."

"That sounds fun. I could use some fun," Minerva admitted. She accepted the Mediwitch's hand. "I'm sure it would look horrible if the students were to find us in here. Especially since we're not supposed to have the password; I overheard it from one of the students at dinner. I'm lucky the Fat Lady likes me." She shook her head and looked at Lavinia. "How did you get in?"

"As matron, I'm always allowed in. In case of medical emergencies, it's best for me to be able to have full access to all rooms in the castle."

"That sounds like an adventure. Merlin knows there are hundreds of rooms I don't even know about."

"Trust me, Armando and I had a lot of fun when I first gained access. So many new places to explore, an increased risk of getting caught—it was quite thrilling."

"Oh, Merlin," Minerva groaned as they exited the portrait. "I certainly didn't need to know that."