A/N: Oh, I forgot to mention that this takes place shortly after OotP ends.
Albus found Minerva in her rooms several hours later. She was curled up in one of the window seats, a sketchpad in her lap. The heavy lead pencil she sketched with was idle in her fingers, but Albus knew that his Deputy was a talented artist, no matter how much she denied it. "Minerva, I have a request for you."
She raised an eyebrow and sat up a little straighter. "Yes, Albus?"
"Would you mind taking Tracey to Hogsmeade?" he asked. "To buy clothes and other items she might need?"
The eyebrow climbed higher. "Why not take her yourself? She's your daughter."
Albus gave an uncomfortable shrug. "Yes, well, she requested that she be accompanied by you or Poppy. She mentioned needing some, er, 'female' items."
A small smile appeared. "Very well, I would be delighted to take Miss Cooper to Hogsmeade."
He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Minerva."
Long after he had left, Minerva remained where she was, one hand covering her cheek where he had kissed her.
* * *
The following day, after breakfast, Minerva and Tracey headed down to Hogsmeade. Tracey had borrowed some robes from Xiomara Hooch, who was the closest in size to the young woman, but they were still a little loose on her. Neither said much as they walked along the path to Hogsmeade. Minerva wasn't quite sure what to make of Tracey and, to be frank; Tracey was in awe of Minerva. She'd read the Harry Potter books in the universe she'd come from and Minerva had always been one of her favorite characters. To actually come face to face with her and interact with her was an unexpected honor. It was also very daunting because the Deputy Headmistress didn't look very approachable. Tracey sighed and kicked at a rock.
"Is something wrong, Miss Cooper?" Minerva asked, having heard the sigh.
Tracey shook her head. "Not really."
Minerva raised an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean by that?"
Tracey shrugged. "I've read about Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, but it's still very different to actually walk through Hogwarts, to actually visit Hogsmeade." She looked up at Minerva. "Do you think I'll get to visit Diagon Alley?"
Minerva nodded. "Eventually, yes."
Tracey grinned. "Excellent."
Minerva smiled at that. Something the younger woman had said stuck in her mind and she mulled it over. "You say there have actually been books written about Harry Potter?"
Tracey nodded. "Yes. There's one for each year he attends at Hogwarts."
"All seven years?" Minerva asked.
Tracey shook her head regretfully. "No, the book about his fifth year had just come out a few months before I left the other universe." She smiled. "It was great, although I wish Sirius hadn't died."
Minerva sighed. She'd been in St. Mungo's when Sirius had died. She still wondered if she could have prevented his death if she'd been at the Department of Mysteries. "He was a good man. Professor Dumbledore still blames himself for Sirius' death."
Tracey frowned. "Wait, how long ago was that?"
Minerva looked down at the younger woman. "This past June."
Excitement suddenly glimmered in the bright blue eyes so like her father's. "So, Harry's going to be starting his sixth year in September?"
Minerva nodded. "Yes, he is."
Tracey suddenly looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, it must be rather boring to have to answer all my questions."
"No, it's not," Minerva assured her. "It's rather fascinating, actually."
Tracey looked surprised. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Minerva nodded. Finally, they reached Hogsmeade. "What would you like to buy first?"
"Clothes," Tracey answered promptly. "I can't keep borrowing Madam Hooch's robes."
Minerva nodded. "Robes, it is."
They proceeded down the street. The story that had been agreed upon late yesterday afternoon had been quite simple: Tracey was Albus' daughter by Sandra, but she'd accidentally drunk an Ageing Potion that had left her at the age of twenty.
In what seemed to be no time at all, they had arrived at Gladrags Wizardwear. Tracey was in heaven. She knew what she liked and had an instinctive grasp of what would look good on her. In no time at all, she had been outfitted with a range of robes and cloaks that suited her tastes and several pairs of shoes, all practical. She bought little jewelry, settling on an aquamarine pendant and matching earrings. When they left the shop, Tracey wore a royal blue robe over a pale cream dress. Next, they went to a hair-care shop, where Tracey laughed herself silly over some of the claims on the bottles of shampoo potions. After a few minutes of deliberation, she chose one that made no claims other than that it would clean her hair. She bought some hair ties to keep her hair out of her face and used one to pull her thick hair back into a ponytail, rather than let the auburn locks curl around her slender shoulders. From there, they visited a stationary store, where Tracey bought quills, parchment, and a little notebook she could keep in her pocket to write things down in. Last of all, they went to the Three Broomsticks for a drink before returning to Hogwarts.
They sat down with a mutual sigh of relief. They'd been on their feet almost non-stop since they had arrived in Hogsmeade. "Oh, there's a reason I don't do this very often."
Minerva chuckled quietly at that comment, but Rosmerta appeared before she could say anything. "Minerva, what a surprise." Before Minerva could reply, Rosmerta had turned to Tracey. "And who might you be?"
"Tracey Cooper," Tracey replied, offering her hand.
Rosmerta shook it. "You look familiar."
Tracey glanced at Minerva, asking for guidance in answering Rosmerta's question. Minerva nodded. "Albus Dumbledore is my father."
"Really?" Rosmerta glanced at Minerva before asking her next question. "And who is your mother? Minerva?"
Minerva gaped at the other woman while Tracey laughed. "No, my mother is dead now. Her name was Sandra Cooper."
Rosmerta frowned. "I don't remember Professor Dumbledore ever being married. Do you, Minerva?"
"Sandra Cooper was his first wife," Minerva told the other witch stiffly. "She died when Tracey was a baby."
Rosmerta raised an eyebrow. "When was that?"
"Over a hundred years ago," Tracey admitted.
"You look a little young to be over a hundred years old," Rosmerta commented.
Tracey shrugged. "I accidentally drank an Ageing Potion. It muddled up my memories."
"Oh," Rosmerta looked surprised, but hid it. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"
"Two butterbeers will be fine," Minerva told the barmistress.
"Right," Rosmerta turned and left.
Neither said a word until Rosmerta had brought their butterbeers and left. Tracey drank deeply from hers, but Minerva only fidgeted with hers, running a long finger along the rim of her tankard. Tracey set her tankard down with a quiet thump. "Is something wrong, Professor?"
Minerva didn't say anything, staring moodily into her butterbeer. Tracey reached out and touched the professor's arm. Minerva jumped, sloshing her butterbeer. "I'm sorry, Miss Cooper, did you say something?"
Tracey smiled slightly. "I asked if there was something wrong."
Minerva shook her head, cleaning up the butterbeer that had spilled with a wave of her wand. "No, there's nothing wrong."
"Uh-huh," Tracey agreed skeptically before taking another swig of her butterbeer. It was better than she'd thought it would be. She set the tankard down with a sigh. "Yum."
Minerva smiled slightly at the happy look on the other woman's face and drank some of her butterbeer as well. "It's been awhile since I had any."
Tracey raised an auburn eyebrow at Minerva much as Albus would. "How can you *not* drink this? It's great."
Minerva glared. "It's not the only good drink to be found, Miss Cooper."
Tracey had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry, Professor, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just-- well, we don't have butterbeer where I came from."
"Oh." Minerva felt a little awkward. The younger woman had only been trying to make conversation and she'd bitten her head off. It didn't help that Tracey was a rather vivid--and uncomfortable--reminder of her father. Minerva cleared her throat. "Well, shall we go? I imagine your father misses you."
Tracey smiled brightly at that. "Yes, and I miss him."
They paid for their butterbeer and headed back up to Hogwarts in silence. Minerva helped Tracey carry all her bags up to her rooms, which were near Albus', and beat a hasty retreat to her own rooms. It had been nice to get out of the castle for a while, but Minerva was exhausted. Without bothering to even take her glasses off, the Transfiguration professor stretched out on her bed and fell asleep.
* * *
A knock at the door startled Tracey, causing yet another ink blot to appear on the parchment. Muttering several choice curses, she threw her quill down on the desk. Ever since she and Professor McGonagall had returned from Hogsmeade, she'd stayed in her room and taught herself how to write with a quill. It wasn't as easy as it looked. "Tracey?"
Grimacing, Tracey got up and opened the door. "Hello, Father."
He smiled as he stepped past her into her sitting room. "Hello, Tracey."
Tracey closed the door behind him. "What brings you to my humble abode?"
He chuckled quietly. "I just wanted to see how you're settling in."
"Oh, everything's fine," Tracey told him airily, moving casually over to the desk to hide the results the last hour's worth of efforts at writing with a quill.
A silver eyebrow rose. "Are you sure?"
She nodded vigorously. "Yes, I am."
"What's that on the desk behind you?" he asked quietly.
She sighed and stepped aside. He picked up the parchment. "The...quick brown...fox jumped...over the lazy...dog." He looked at his daughter. "What is this?"
She blushed profusely. "I'm trying to teach myself how to write with a quill."
"You didn't use quills before?" he asked, setting the parchment back on the desk.
She shook her head. "No, we used pens or pencils." She sighed. "In the books, JKR made it sound so easy."
"Who's JKR?" Albus inquired curiously.
"The woman who wrote the Harry Potter books I mentioned yesterday," Tracey told him truthfully. "She was a gifted writer."
"What do you mean?" Albus sat down in her desk chair.
"Well, she made the world so real to the readers," Tracey explained, struggling to place in words what she knew in her heart. "It's as if she was using some magic to translate what Harry saw and tell it to us." A blush suddenly bloomed in her cheeks. "Those of us who were very fond of the books began writing stories based on the books while we waited for the fifth one to be published. I, um, tended to focus on you and McGonagall."
His eyebrow rose again. "Indeed? What, exactly, would you write?"
Her blush deepened. "Uh, what we generally called fluff."
"Fluff," he repeated. "What does that mean?"
"Romance." Her face was bright red now and she couldn't even look at him. She looked at her feet instead.
Albus didn't say a word. Tracey chanced a glance up at his face and saw that there was a pensive look on it. She wondered what it meant. Finally, he spoke. "I see."
She breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't mad at her. "It was mainly due to having an over-active imagination and too much time on my hands. I wrote more during the summer than when I was attending classes. And I didn't *just* write about you and Professor McGonagall. I wrote about others, too. And--"
He held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "Tracey, you're babbling."
"I am?" she asked, disconcerted. He nodded. "Oh, well, I do that sometimes."
"Maybe Sandra should have named you Brooke instead," he commented with a smile.
"What do you mean?" Tracey asked, puzzled.
He rose. "Never mind, Tracey. Would you like to eat dinner with the rest of the staff?"
"You mean with Snape and Hooch and the others?" she asked, wide-eyed.
He nodded. "Yes. It would be the perfect time to introduce
you."
Tracey thought for a moment. "Yes, I'd like that."
"Excellent." He kissed her forehead. "I'll come for you at six-thirty, then."
"Yes, Father," Tracey hugged him. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked.
"Just for doing all of this, I guess," she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.
"You're quite welcome." He hugged her and left.
Tracey stood in the middle of the room for a moment, replaying the conversation in her head. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she started to laugh.
* * *
When Tracey entered the Great Hall on Albus' arm that evening, Minerva thought for sure that the young woman would faint. She stopped short and simply stared. The House Tables had been pushed to the sides of the Hall at the beginning of the summer holidays and the High Table now ran down the middle of the Hall itself. After a moment, Albus glanced down Tracey questioningly and the young woman nodded. Together, they approached the High Table. Everyone present except Minerva, Poppy, and Xiomara were staring at the newcomer with interest.
Severus was the first to speak. "Who is this, Headmaster? Surely she can't be our new Defense Against Dark Arts professor."
The young woman bristled, much as a cat getting ready to fight. A long, thin hand covered the slender one resting on his arm. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my daughter," there was a rustle as staff members exchanged glances, "Tracey Cooper."
As Albus introduced his daughter to individual staff members, Minerva watched for the young woman's reaction to each. She shook Hagrid's large hand enthusiastically, studied Severus closely as he gave her hand a perfunctionary shake, and greeted each of the others more politely, although she seemed pleased by the fact that Filius was shorter than she was. More than one staff member shot a glance in Minerva's direction, especially when Albus indicated that the two knew each other. Minerva ignored the pointed looks and waited patiently for the introductions to be finished.
Once they were all seated and began to eat, the usual talk started, with most of the questions being directed at Tracey, who sat on the other side of Albus from Minerva. "Miss Cooper," Severus drawled from his place beside Minerva, "would Minerva happen to be your mother?"
The Transfiguration professor shot the Potions Master a death glare while Albus nearly choked on the sip he'd taken of his pumpkin juice. Tracey smiled sweetly at the Potions Master. "No, Professor, though I wouldn't mind." Minerva saw Xiomara, Poppy, and Sylvia all exchange grins at this and resolved to avoid them after supper. "My mother was a Muggle named Sandra. She died when I was young."
All eyes turned to Albus, who looked a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "You never mentioned that you had been married, Headmaster."
He cleared his throat. "Sandra and I grew up together and it seemed fitting that we marry."
Everyone looked at Tracey. "You hardly look like you're more than sixteen, Miss Cooper," squeaked Filius.
She grinned. "Actually, I'm twenty, Professor." Looks were exchanged around the table. Tracey shrugged. "I accidentally drank an Ageing Potion. My memory's all muddled up."
"Typical Gryffindor," Severus murmured into his pumpkin juice.
"Severus," hissed Serena Sinistra, who happened to be seated on his other side, and poked him with her elbow. "That's not nice."
He calmly placed his goblet back on the table and resumed eating. "It's the truth."
"Professor Snape?" Tracey had leaned back in her chair to look at him. He ignored her. She continued anyway. "If you have a comment, please tell it to me and not your pumpkin juice."
Minerva hid her smile by pretending to cough. Xiomara didn't bother hiding her amusement. Severus kept his eyes on his food, but Minerva was sure she saw his lips twitch. Most people ignored his rude comments; few ever came up with good retorts.
The conversation became more relaxed after that, with various questions being asked of Tracey at irregular intervals. One of the first questions to come up was where Tracey had been during the last hundred years or so. She replied that she had been in America among the Muggles, doing some research. Another question to come up was why her name was Cooper and not Dumbledore.
She glanced up at Albus with a twinkle in her eyes before replying. "Oh, well, my name was originally Brooke Dumbledore," --Albus chuckled for some reason-- "but it would have stuck out in the Muggle world, so I changed it to Tracey Cooper."
A question posed by Professor Vector made Minerva tense, however. "Is there a particular branch of magic that you're particularly proficient at, Miss Cooper?"
Beside Minerva, Albus appeared calm, but she noticed the ever-so-slight tremor of his hands. Tracey had yet to show any signs of being magical at all, but that didn't necessarily mean she *wasn't* magical. Tracey tilted her head to the side, thinking. Finally, she spoke. "It's been so long since I used my magic that I'm not real sure anymore. I imagine it'll eventually come to me, but I can't tell you right now."
The others accepted this explanation and Minerva breathed a sigh of relief. As the meal continued, Tracey proved to be quite adept at answering difficult questions with almost-casual ease. By the time everyone had finished eating dessert, though, she seemed to be quite worn out. At the young woman's request, Minerva accompanied father and daughter from the Great Hall. "I need some fresh air."
Without a word, the three of them went outside and Tracey gratefully sat down on the stone steps, breathing deeply of the evening air. Minerva asked a question that had been bothering her off and on throughout the day. "Why would people assume I am Tracey's mother?"
Albus looked at Minerva with a twinkle in his eyes. "It would appear that the large amount of time we spend in each other's company has generated some rather...interesting rumors."
Minerva stared up at him. "What?"
Albus glanced down at Tracey, who was staring determinedly out over the sweeping lawns. "Tracey, would you care to explain?"
She shook her head. "I've already embarrassed myself once. I won't do it twice."
Albus chuckled. Minerva was confused. "What do you mean? Albus?"
"In the other universe, the readers of the Harry Potter books would often write stories based on those books and a rather large group of them seemed to think that there was something more than friendship between the two of us," Albus explained.
Minerva stared up at him, feeling her cheeks grow warm. That had hit a little too close to the mark for her personal comfort. "I see."
Tracey hooted with laughter at that. "That's what Father said when I told him."
Her cheeks burning, Minerva turned and hurried inside. She didn't know how she could face Albus now.
Back on the steps, Albus turned to his daughter. Tracey was staring at the doors with a thoughtful expression on her face. "What did I say?"
Tracey shrugged and stood up. "I don't know, but I need to do some thinking."
Without another word, Tracey disappeared into the castle. Still on the front steps, Albus watched night settle over the grounds and the moon and stars come out. He doubted he would ever figure women out. They were just too complicated. Shrugging, he turned and went inside as well.