A/N: Thank you for sticking with me, and thank you for all of the messages and reviews.

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Fifty-Four: November 1958

Minerva was fidgeting, and she hated fidgeting.

But Horace was on some diatribe about the need to increase his potions budget, and Minerva had somewhere important to be. She sighed, unintentionally attracting Albus' attention. He smiled tightly before turning his attention back to Horace.

Before the cataclysmic events of January 1957, Minerva would have smiled back.

As perhaps could be expected, the night where Violet disappeared had caused significant ripple effects for everyone involved.

The morning after, Albus and Minerva had woken up and immediately realized that while discussing their relationship was important, the issue of paramount concern was locating Violet. Albus had asked both Callum and Nicolas for help, and after days of searching, they had come up empty-handed. The Headmaster had no choice but to accept that finding Violet was beyond his not-insignificant ability.

Athena had, obviously, been confused at the sudden disappearance of her mother. Albus hadn't known how to help her, and for that matter, neither had Minerva. Luckily, Poppy had been available with resources, and had thrown herself into taking extra certification courses on mental health and trauma. Albus had felt bad about the additional workload, but she told him it would be useful for her work with the students, and managed to get him to pay for her training out of the school's budget.

To his credit, Albus had been completely honest with his daughter for the first time in a very long time. He told her that he and Violet had been unhappy together, and that he had entertained a magical solution to the problem. Athena had been disappointed to hear that her parents would have separated, regardless of her mother's disappearance. She was angry with her father for thinking the potion would be a reasonable solution. While she had understood that her mother bore some responsibility for actually drinking the potion, Athena had told Albus in no uncertain terms that she would be living with Minerva until she was no longer angry with him.

In the end, Minerva had gained a houseguest for seven months, making her an unwilling diplomat in the war that was Athena versus Albus.

There was also the issue of childcare to sort out. Albus and Minerva had been very lucky to have Violet readily available, and were still uncomfortable with the idea of anyone outside their circle knowing the truth of their children's parentage. Fortunately, Isobel had taken them until they found a long-term replacement in Lucy.

After Iolanthe had departed for Hogwarts, Lucy found that she missed having multiple children running around, and happily offered to watch the children. She was also much more knowledgeable about magic than Isobel, and was willing to teach the children more about their magic. While it was a longer Floo journey to get to London, Albus and Minerva found that it was well worth the trip.

Truth be told, Minerva had found the childcare situation far easier to navigate than her relationship with Albus. They had continued their dalliance for two months, stealing away moments where they could. It was all going rather well, and they had both felt happier than they had in a long time.

Until a pregnancy scare had occurred six weeks into their renewed relationship, that is.

Due to their restrictive bond and the fact that they hadn't had sex with each other in years, it had been a long time since either had thought to worry about contraception charms. Minerva's frightfully late period had given them cause to have a difficult conversation about children, which had just turned into another argument.

Albus wanted children with her, as soon as she was willing. He was thrilled, and didn't seem scared by the scare at all. Au contraire, Minerva, while not opposed to more children, felt it was too challenging to take care of the kids they already had. The resulting feud had caused a chasm between them, and Minerva realized that they still had very different visions for their lives. Their words often played on a loop in her head, particularly when she felt lonely and missed him.

"What's so bad about this? A child is a miracle. If you are pregnant, it will be a wonderful surprise."

She stared at him, incredulous. "Albus, have you given any thought to the ramifications of a pregnancy? It's not just that we'd have a child. This would fundamentally alter how we operate. We almost just lost our existing children! We're too wrapped up in our little world here to have a baby. Besides, I'm an unwed mother! If it ever got out, Albus..."

"I have a solution for that," Albus said quietly, but she wasn't paying any attention.

"I can't believe you'd be so short-sighted as to not recognize any of the complications!"

"I thought you wanted more children!" Albus exclaimed. "Wasn't that the whole point of the bloody bond-ending ritual you forced us to endure?"

"I wanted more children with Aidan, when we were ready!"

Albus' face crumbled. "I didn't realize the thought of a child with me was such a horrifying prospect."

"Albus, it's not a you problem—don't make it such an egocentric argument. I mean that I wanted more children when I was in a stable marriage with a stable home. Our children just went through a terrifying ordeal. Could you imagine what would happen if we told them we were having a baby?"

"I would think the children would be excited."

"Because they're children! Albus, it's hard to spend enough time with our children as it is."

His voice turned cold. "So, what, you'd ask Poppy to get rid of it for you?"

"I'm not saying that, either!" Minerva threw her hands up. "I'm saying that this is unplanned and causes a lot of problems. We haven't even figured our relationship out yet."

"What's left to figure out? We're in love, Min."

"And is that a suitable explanation for every hardship that may come our away? I'm not ready to sign my life away to you, Albus."

"Let me know when you've decided how you feel, then." Albus stormed out of his quarters, leaving Minerva to throw a vase at the door behind him.

When Poppy's tests had confirmed she was not pregnant, she had informed Albus of the result, and told him in no uncertain terms that she couldn't keep doing whatever it was that they were doing. She was not a woman made for warming someone's bed for the sake of trying to resurrect an old flame, and she told Albus that.

And so, for the second time, their relationship came to a crumbling end.

For the last year and eleven months, their interactions could only be characterized as awkward. Albus had finally come to accept that they were over—but he wasn't happy about it, not by a long shot. Minerva could tell he wasn't coping well, but she didn't know how to help him without hurting him even more. For the record, it also saddened Minerva. She had always wondered what would happen if they tried again, and it seemed that timing would always be their primary issue.

Albus had never learned how to handle his emotions well, and so he avoided seeing Minerva alone unless it was absolutely required for their work. He ignored Minerva as much as he could, but instead of retreating into his work, he spent more time with Athena. Upon returning to his house, Athena had made it quite clear that he would need to make more of an effort with her; to everyone's surprise, he had willingly obliged.

If this whole mess of a situation had made Albus a better father for Athena, Minerva would happily accept all of the awkwardness and discomfort that came along with it.

"Minerva agrees with me, don't you, Minerva?" Horace's address tore Minerva from her thoughts. "She of all people should recognize that some disciplines require more regular investment. Transfiguration classes need numerous materials!"

Fortunately for Minerva, Horace's argument was old news and didn't require much thought. "I agree that some subjects require more expensive materials, yes. However," she continued, "there's no good reason to replace a bottle of monkshood that still contains three-quarters of its contents. We must use all of what we have, if possible. There's no need to be wasteful."

Horace flushed, but Filius chimed in before the Potions professor could retaliate. "Hear, hear! We must all do what we can to preserve our coffers."

"Well, that's that, then. We are running overtime, and I presume everyone would like to have a reprieve before dinner commences. Thank you, everyone." Albus brought the meeting to a close. To Minerva's shock, he approached her. "Minerva?"

"Yes, Albus?"

"Are you bringing either of your nieces with you on your excursion tonight?"

Aoife had joined her sister at Hogwarts in September. She made for a very happy Hufflepuff, being the first in either the McGonagall or Peverell families to be sorted there. Aoife liked that it made her unique, and she made a point of riling her father up by pointing out that she would be trying out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Minerva relaxed slightly, happy that the conversation was in safe territory. "No, I'm not. Both Aoife and Iolanthe went on the weekend, and we all collectively decided that that was probably enough. They were sad enough as it was. We don't want to make it harder than it has to be."

"Of course." Albus nodded understandingly. "Give my best to your mother, will you?"

She smiled. "Thank you, I will."

Minerva approached the door to McGonagall Manor with some trepidation. Her mother had fallen ill in the autumn, and had been bed-ridden since. Callum and Minerva knew that Isobel was not long for this world, and Minerva had done her best to make her peace with her mother while she still had the opportunity.

"Missus!" Their head elf, Pokey, opened the door with a grin. "Mistress will be glad to see you!"

"I'm happy to see her. Is she in the same room as last time?" Minerva asked, hanging her coat up in the closet.

"Yes, the doctor said we shouldn't be moving her." Pokey nodded.

"Thank you, Pokey." Minerva smiled softly and walked to her mother's room, rapping her knuckles softly on the open door. "Hi, Ma."

Isobel smiled weakly and sat up. Her greying hair spooled around her as she gestured to the seat beside her bed. "Come in, darling."

"I'd ask you how you're feeling, but I'm sure you're sick of the question."

Her mother smirked. "Nice choice of words, Minerva."

"Oh, I didn't mean..." Minerva stopped herself, blushing. "Is today a good day, or a bad day?"

Isobel smiled upon hearing the question she often asked her children when they were younger. "You're here. That makes it a good day."

"I would have been here earlier," Minerva said, sitting beside her mother's bed with a groan, "but one of my colleagues felt the need to keep us in our staff meeting for an extra half hour."

"Was it Horace again?"

"Yes." Minerva bit her lip. "Perhaps I complain about him a bit too much if you can easily ascertain that."

"He was also my professor for my last few years," Isobel chuckled. "You haven't told me anything I wouldn't be able to figure out myself. Any other exciting news from the castle?"

"The girls are doing well. Nothing new to report there. Poppy and Ro are the same." Minerva hesitated for a moment, then said, "Albus sends his best."

Isobel raised an eyebrow. "The great Albus Dumbledore sends his best to little old me?"

"Ma, he's not the great Albus Dumbledore to me, nor to any of the other staff members. He's just Albus."

"Mhmm, he's more than just Albus to you." Isobel eyed her daughter carefully. "You've never told me much, but I'm not an imbecile. You've been in love with each other for much longer than either of you would care to admit."

Minerva said nothing, but her blush gave her away.

"I knew it," Isobel pronounced triumphantly. "Why aren't you together now, darling? You've both been single for long enough."

"We've tried—multiple times—and it doesn't work between us," Minerva responded honestly. "We're oil and water when it comes to making any tough decisions. Love isn't always enough, Ma."

"I know that well enough," Isobel responded, slightly dejected. "I want you to promise me something."

"This seems a little unfair. I'd be a horrible person if I were to refuse you anything in this state."

"I know what I'm doing. I am a Ravenclaw, after all." Isobel winked. "In any event, I want you to promise me that if a chance with Albus comes up again, you'll take it."

"I don't think I want to, Ma. It's too painful."

"Callum has told me enough of the situation—I know that you wish it would work, even if it hasn't yet and you don't have reason to believe another opportunity will come to pass. I simply don't want you to give up on what your heart truly desires, darling."

"What has Cal told you?" Minerva all but shrieked.

"He only gave credence to my observations. Don't hold it against him; I'm an old, sick woman and I coaxed it out of him. He had no choice but to tell me."

"Even still, he had no right," Minerva grumbled.

"Will you promise?"

"To consider Albus? Yes, I can promise you that. But," Minerva added, seeing a grin bloom across her mother's face, "that's it. Don't think you can wrangle anything else out of me."

"That's enough to make an old woman happy on her deathbed."

"Ma, I wish you wouldn't speak like that."

Isobel took her daughter's hands in her own. "I'm ready, darling. I know that may be hard to hear, but I can't take suffering for very long. I've had a difficult life, it's true, but I'm ready. I have a daughter and a husband waiting for me."

Sometimes, Minerva was thankful her mother had her faith to rely on.

"All right. Can we leave this conversation here and turn to more pleasant things?"

"I have one more thing I would like to talk to you about, actually." Isobel took a deep breath. "I have spoken with the McGonagall and Ross family lawyers—the will you signed after the war is official and will move forward. This house is ready for you and Dalton to live here."

"Ma." Minerva shook her head. "I don't care what the will says. I'm not moving here. Dalton and I have a home."

"You have a graveyard." Isobel's tone was firm. "Dalton tells me a lot, you know."

Minerva paled. "What has he said?"

"That you're unhappy. That he's never seen you step foot in Aidan's office, and that you don't let anyone sit in Aidan's old chair. It's as though you're preserving his memory in the hopes that he'll come back. It's not healthy, darling."

Minerva ignored the latter part and instead focused on her son. "Why hasn't he told me any of this?"

"Because I'm his grandmother. It's a different relationship," Isobel laughed. "You'll understand what I mean, one day."

"Hopefully not for a long time," Minerva snorted. She paused and looked at her mother fondly. "Have I ever said thank you?"

"To me?" It was Isobel's turn to snort. "Whatever for?"

"For keeping me sheltered," Minerva responded. "We've had many conversations about everything that went wrong, but thank you for keeping us from the worst of it."

Isobel cupped her daughter's cheek. "I should have done far more. But," she added, knowing Minerva was about to interject, "you're welcome."

Pokey suddenly appeared in the room. "Missus, it's after six."

"Thank you, Pokey." Minerva smiled. "I have to go and get Dalton from Lucy and Callum's. Callum is coming tomorrow, correct?"

Isobel shook her head. "He's coming the day after."

Minerva frowned. "But I can't make it until Sunday. I don't particularly fancy leaving you here alone tomorrow."

"Minerva," Isobel said exasperatedly, "I can go a day without a visit."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Now, go and get your son."

Three weeks later, after Isobel McGonagall's funeral, Minerva sat down with Dalton on their favourite couch in their house.

"So, Dalton," Minerva began, "your grandmother told me that you think I'm unhappy."

"But she's dead." Dalton's eyes widened. "Is that part of magic? Getting to talk to people after they died?"

"No," Minerva said firmly, hoping to end the line of questioning before he asked her about Aidan. "She told me before she died."

"Oh." Dalton shifted uncomfortably. "I guess that was a stupid question."

"Not a stupid question, darling. But"—she paused to tilt his chin so that he was looking directly at her—"answer my question. Why do you think I'm unhappy?"

"I don't know, Mama, you just are. You don't like being here." He shrugged. "You're always happier when we're at Granny's or at Uncle Cal's. It's like you're scared here."

"You think I'm scared?"

"Yes," Dalton replied emphatically. "You don't go certain places in the house, or you always hang around Dad's photos, or...like that time I accidentally broke Dad's watch! You were so angry."

"Well, that was going to be yours on your seventeenth birthday," Minerva pointed out.

"But you fixed it! You just want to keep everything the same—like when Dad was here. But he's not, and you won't change with it. You won't even buy new plates."

Minerva was torn between feeling impressed with her son's emotional capacity and embarrassed. "Did Granny tell you that?"

"No, she said you perse..persevre!"

"Preserve, darling. Perhaps you're right." Minerva sighed and looked around their home. "I suppose I haven't changed much around here, have I?"

"No, Mama. It's the same house, and Dad isn't coming back. You told me that."

"I did, because it's true." She ruffled her son's hair. "And I've kept living that way. Would you really be okay moving to the Manor? It's a lot farther away from Hogwarts."

Dalton grinned. "I think we'll be okay. We have magic."

"All right, then. It's settled, we can have one last Christmas here, and then we'll leave. We can celebrate your eleventh birthday in the Manor." Minerva shook her head. "I suppose distance doesn't matter too much, anyway. You'll be heading to Hogwarts next autumn, so it's not like you'll spend much time here, will you?"

"That's what Granny said!" Dalton nodded excitedly. "She said you'd come home alone here and be sad."

"I wish she hadn't said all of this to you," Minerva groaned. "This should have been something we talked about together."

"We are talking about it, silly," Dalton said plainly, and Minerva laughed at how simple a child could make the world seem.

"Don't call me silly, silly," Minerva teased. She pulled him into her lap. "You're right: we are talking about it, and I am glad we are. I hope you still tell me things when you get to Hogwarts."

"I'll tell you lots of stuff! Except for all of the pranks Uncle Cal told me I can't tell you about. He said they wouldn't be fun anymore if I told you."

Minerva threw her head back and sighed. "I'm going to kill your uncle."

"You sure you're ready for this?" Lucy asked Minerva gently.

Minerva looked up at the house she had called home for nearly a decade. "I think so. After all, we have to give it back to the Ministry at some point."

Lucy snorted. "I can't believe they let you keep it for this long, to be honest."

"I think Albus probably had something to do with that," Minerva admitted. "After Aidan died, I asked the Auror department. They said they had orders from "higher up" to let us stay here. We still had to pay rent, mind you, but I'm shocked they didn't need it for another mission."

"We all know they sent Aidan here for no reason. Besides, if Albus didn't play a role in this, I'm sure Elphinstone played a hand in it," Lucy teased, nudging Minerva's arm. Minerva had told her sister-in-law about her ill-fated date with Elphinstone, and it was one of Lucy's favourite stories. "Perhaps he was showing his interest as early as he could."

"Oh, dear." Minerva's hand flew up to her cheek. "I forgot that he knew where I lived."

"All done!" Callum announced, coming out of the house. He had Dalton on his back. "Everything has been magically removed and is on its way to the Manor as per your instructions, Minnie."

"Thank you," Minerva said gratefully. "I appreciate your help."

"It's not like it's hard labour to shrink everything in your house and send it home," Callum said, laughing. "Besides, I got to show my one and only nephew a wee bit of magic."

Dalton grinned. "I can't wait to get to Hogwarts."

"We have to get you home first, lad." Callum moved to whisper in Minerva's ear. "I left his desk for you, just like you asked."

"Thank you," she murmured. Clearing her throat, she said, "Dalton, I want you to go ahead with your aunt and uncle to the Manor. I need to do a final walk-through of the house, okay?"

"Sure," Dalton shrugged. "Hey, Uncle Cal, can we play Quidditch?"

"Not until your room is set up," Callum said. "Otherwise, your mother might kill me."

Minerva glared at her brother. "Cal—"

"Say bye, Dalton!"

"Bye, Mama!"

Minerva shook her head and watched Dalton Apparate with Callum, then smiled at Lucy as she left, too. She walked back into the house, finally ready to say one last goodbye. Moving slowly, she opened the door to Aidan's office for the first time in years.

She ran her hands along the desk and sighed. "I must admit that I have mixed feelings about leaving this house, love. I don't like the idea of going somewhere new and living a life that you don't know about—that you're not a part of. Here, at least, I knew where to put you. I knew where you'd sit at the kitchen table, and I knew where you liked to read to Dalton. You held space here.

"Where do I put you in my mother's house? Obviously, you've been there a few times, but not nearly frequently enough that you developed habits there. I don't know which bathroom you would have preferred, or which seat in the library, or which house-elf you would have taken under your wing. There's so much we didn't get to share, and I feel robbed.

"But I think it's time Dalton and I had a fresh start. I haven't been able to fully give myself to anything but work or parenting since we lost you. I thought I was fine. I didn't know how much I was struggling until our son pointed it out." She chuckled morosely. "With the help of my meddling mother. Keep her in check up there, love."

Minerva sighed and took off her wedding and engagement rings, wiggling her hands so she could test the feeling. She had had them on for so long that her hand felt almost weightless. Looking around, she took Aidan's favourite pen and Transfigured it into a chain. She slid her rings around it and clasped it around her neck.

Wrapping her hands around the rings, she pressed them into her chest gently. She may be leaving the house, but she'd be leaving it the way she first found it.

With Aidan by her heart.