From a prompt in the HGMM FanGroup: "I've had enough of 'We woke up in Vegas' stories. I want 'we got drunk at a Pegan ritual in Scotland and now we're bound for life and any attempt of separation will tear our souls asunder.'" - You guys asked. I really, really wanted to say it was going to be a short story, but the more I thought about it the more it sort of blew up in my head. So here's the first little bit. More to come. Do enjoy. Hold on to your butts.
Prologue:
A tall, well built man with high cheekbones and silver hair strode confidently through the halls of Hogwarts, navigating his way to the Headmistress's office with ease, even if it had been years since he'd bothered to pay a visit. Green eyes defiantly gazed at the gargoyles as he almost resentfully muttered the password - his dead brother's name - knowing with complete certainty that on the anniversary of his murder, Minerva would have used the name in memorium to guard her inner sanctum. To no surprise, the visitor was allowed entry, and up he went without hesitation, stepping into the office cautiously, and pleased to find its owner absent.
"Robert?" one of the portraits called out almost immediately.
The familiar voice made his gut lurch. If ever there had been a child whom Robert McGonagall had thought of as a son, Severus Snape had been it. Severus had been his Potions protegé, many years ago, and they'd remained in contact even during his years as an active Death Eater. Both Slytherins, Robert had understood Severus' reasons for turning to Voldemort, even if his sister Minerva had been completely unable to. At least, if nothing else, Robert had been able to be the bridge between Severus and Minerva coming to terms as colleagues after Severus had defected from Voldemort's ranks, and joined the Order. They might have ripped one another to pieces had he not been around to help them see reason. In any case, while he'd always known there was a slim chance Severus would live out the war, the reality of his protegé's death had still hit hard.
"Hello Severus," Robert greeted, moving toward his former student's portrait. "I am pleased to see that you were commissioned a portrait, despite your short and controversial tenure as Headmaster."
Severus smirked. "You know Slytherins. We thrive on technicalities. As Minerva testified, I was neither the Head of Hogwarts with the shortest tenure, nor was I the only Head to have served within controversy. In the Board's defence, I was probably the most controversial. I don't believe there were any other Heads who were the right hand of a Dark Lord."
"You weren't technically the right hand of a Dark Lord, either," Robert pointed out. "You were spying on one."
"I believe Minerva pointed out that technicality as well," Severus agreed. "Either she is secretly hiding Slytherin traits, or she's just been spending too much time with you and me."
"I believe it's less an issue of being a Slytherin and more an issue of her skill as a chessmaster," Robert mused with a chuckle. "I do not believe she was prepared to let go of your presence in entirety. You know Minerva, of course. What she wants, she tends to get."
"Quite," the portrait agreed. "Speaking of, are you here to see her?"
"Yes, but not until after lunch," Robert admitted. "I need to finish a brew first, but I'm down an ingredient and I'm hoping you may have it stashed somewhere in the castle."
"An ingredient you don't have?" Severus taunted his former Potions Master.
"I need Felix Felicis," Robert said frankly. "I could viably brew it, but it takes six months to do that and the notion to brew what I'd like to with it only crossed my mind about two weeks ago. To do what I want to do, I need it this afternoon, or I'd have to wait for another opportune moment, which would likely be next year."
Severus stared at him for a moment. "There are exactly five potions, all highly restricted, which utilise Felix Felicis as an ingredient. I can only think of one of them that you'd be mad enough to brew, because three of the other four are Dark Arts, and the fourth just makes no sense given what I know of you. The only person I can think that you would be presumptuous enough to use Animus Mico on would be Minerva, so before I even bother to justify that question with an answer, I'm going to ask if you've lost your bloody mind."
Robert ran his hand through his hair. "Malcolm's long gone. I'm sterile thanks to that damn curse I got hit with in the eighties. The only hope of any further McGonagalls lay with her. It's not that I'm even all that manic about pureblood tradition or even the damn name going on so much as the idea that our family has a rich history, and…"
"And what, Robert?" Severus asked softly.
"And I want to be remembered," he said, voice raw. "I want someone to pass on stories about Malcolm and his family, and what they died for. I want someone to remember batty Uncle Robert, and the family he never had because he couldn't. I want my sister to have a family, because she bloody can, she's just too scared of history repeating to let herself be happy. I know her, Severus. I've seen her try with women before, years back…"
Severus choked. "Excuse me, did you say women…?"
Robert raised an eyebrow. "Did you honestly know my sister this long and not know she was a lesbian? Albus Dumbledore was her best friend for fuck's sake!"
"Plot twist," Severus mumbled. "For the record, Robert, I did my very best not to think of your sister and sex in the same brainwave. She was my teacher, and for all intents and purposes, like an aunt to me in later years."
"Well your Aunt Minerva is into women," Robert grinned. "So yes, I want to dose her with Animus Mico this afternoon, so that by the time she's supervising the Beltane events this evening, she gets hit upside the head with its effects and with a little luck…"
"... a lot of luck," Severus muttered. "That's the point of adding the Felix to the damn potion."
"Fine, with a lot of luck," Robert agreed, smile widening, "she'll end up joining the ranks of the accidently handfasted by this time tomorrow."
"She'll kill you," Severus said seriously.
Robert put his finger up in the air. "Only if she finds out, my dear boy. The idea is to get her happily married. My notion is she'll be too happy to wonder how she got unintentionally inebriated. Remember, she's just a Gryffindor."
Severus nodded in agreement. "True. We do have that going for us. You'll have to get my old desk chair. Minerva will have put it in storage. Ask Winky where exactly. There's a small latch to remove the seat cushion, and there's a compartment under it with a few objects of interest. Among them are a couple of bottles of Felix. Don't use it all in one place."
"You're a good man, Severus Snape."
"What I am is an accomplice," the portrait complained. "If we get caught, I trust you to prevent her from setting me on fire. Understood?"
Robert grinned, moving to leave the office as he waved goodbye to Severus. He pulled out his wand and cast his Patronus; a seal. "Hey Minerva, I'll be at Hogwarts this afternoon. Care to have a spot of tea after lunch?"
Message sent, he quickly made his way down toward Severus' old lab, which he knew Minerva had sealed up after the war, and had not yet bothered to clean out. Well, bothered would be the wrong word. She'd not worked up to it. As much as Severus had seen her as an aunt, she'd come to see him as a nephew. Neither of them would ever have admitted that feeling to each others' faces, of course, just as Robert had never been able to tell Severus that he looked at him like the son he'd never had. Regret was a powerful thing, and now more than ever Robert was spurred by it. He could do nothing about his own regrets now, but if it was the last thing he did, he was going to make sure that Minerva didn't look back, years from now, and regret letting fear get the best of her, and stop her from having the family she'd wished for since she was a little girl. Beltane was as good as any time for Minerva McGonagall to find herself a wife.
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