Out of the Clear Blue Sky
Chapter Eight - Time Passes
A/N: This is officially my longest fic ever! Many thanks to Filodea and Thestral for their help!
Tracey slowly walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, rubbing fretfully at her forehead. She got these headaches periodically and they usually indicated that she needed a change in the prescription of her glasses. The last time she'd had the lenses of her glasses changed was two years before, so she guessed she was about due for another change. That was why she was on her way to the hospital wing, to ask if Poppy could do anything for her. She finally reached the hospital wing and, without stopping to knock, entered. Her eyes grew very round at the sight that met her eyes and she quickly backed out of the room and knocked on the door. "Poppy?"
She heard a flurry of movement, a rustle of robes, and the distinct clunk of wood on stone. The door opened to reveal the school nurse looking rather flushed and breathless, her hair mussed. "Hello, Tracey, what can I do for you?"
"May I come in?" Tracey asked politely, trying to remain calm.
"Oh, right." Poppy reluctantly opened the door wider to let the younger woman enter. Tracey slipped past her into the hospital wing, immediately spotting the man standing at the window, leaning on a walking staff.
"Hello," Tracey greeted him, even though she knew who he was. "Who are you?"
The man turned from the window, revealing the magical eye spinning rapidly in his right eye socket. He studied her closely for a moment before looking past her at Poppy. "Poppy?"
"She's alright, Alastor," Poppy told him, moving around Tracey to put a hand on his arm. "This is Tracey Cooper, the headmaster's daughter." Poppy looked at the redhead. "Tracey, this is Alastor Moody, a very dear friend of mine."
"Hello, Mr. Moody," Tracey extended her hand to him. The hand that gripped hers was laced with scars, but his grip was strong. "It's nice to meet you."
He studied her closely with both eyes and she bore the scrutiny without comment. "Miss Cooper. I've never seen you before."
She flexed her hand when he released it, trying to get the blood flowing again. "I've been in America studying among the Muggles for the past hundred years or so. I accidentally drank an Ageing potion that turned me back into a twenty-year-old and my memories got muddled up in the process."
He grunted in acknowledgement. "You shouldn't volunteer information like that. For all you know, I could be your enemy."
"You're not," she answered simply.
He looked sharply at her. "How can you be sure?"
She smiled enigmatically at him. "I have my ways."
"You sound like Albus," he muttered gruffly.
"Thank you," she replied with a curtsey.
"I didn't mean it as a compliment," he countered, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a smile.
"I know," she made no effort to hide her smile, "but I took it as one."
"Obviously."
"That's enough, both of you," Poppy inserted. "Miss Cooper, why are you here?"
Tracey slipped her glasses off and handed them to the mediwitch. "I think my prescription needs to be changed, Poppy. I've been getting headaches too often lately."
"Have a seat on the bed," Poppy told her absently, examining the glasses closely. "I'll see what I can do."
Alastor cleared his throat. "I need to go now."
Poppy looked up at him with disappointment on her face. "Must you, Alastor?"
He nodded, clumping closer and raising his free hand to cup her cheek. "Yes, Poppy. I'll write, I promise."
She covered his hand with hers, her brown eyes locked with his. "You know I'll write."
He nodded and kissed her tenderly, bringing a lump to Tracey's throat and she quickly averted her gaze. "I love you, Poppy."
"I love you, too, Alastor," she whispered.
Tracey waited until the door had shut behind the retired Auror before looking at the older witch once more. "Poppy?"
"Hmm?" Poppy looked at Tracey distractedly.
"My glasses?" Tracey gently prodded.
"Oh! Right." Poppy blinked and looked at the glasses in her hand. She tapped the lenses with her wand, and then between Tracey's eyes. Once the orange glow that had surrounded both faded, Poppy handed the glasses back to Tracey. "There you go."
Tracey slipped them back on. "Thanks, Poppy."
"You're welcome, Tracey," Poppy replied, turning to look out the window.
Tracey joined her at the window in time to see Alastor Moody disappear into thin air outside the gates of Hogwarts. "How long have you two been a couple?"
Poppy glanced sharply at the younger woman, but Tracey stared determinedly out the window. The mediwitch sighed. "We've known each other for years, but I didn't truly let myself love him until a little over a year ago."
Tracey frowned, but continued to look out the window at nothing. "Why?"
Another sigh. "Alastor's family life wasn't the best in the world and he learned early on not to let himself care about anyone. However, Minerva, Xiomara, Sylvia, and I refused to let him keep us at arm's length and we all befriended him." Tracey grinned. "As time passed, he and I grew closer together, but he was trained that to love someone was a weakness that could be exploited during his Auror training. I knew of this fact and respected his wish to remain strictly friends." Poppy blinked back tears. "When he was brought in after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, I decided not to waste time and let myself love him as I should have. Neither of us has looked back."
Tracey looked up at the older witch with an impish smile. "So, has he proposed yet?"
Poppy smiled calmly and held up her left hand. A silver ring with two sets of initials engraved on it shimmered in the twilight sun shining through the window. Tracey looked closely at the initials and smiled: AM and PP. "Congratulations, Poppy."
"Thank you, Tracey." Poppy smiled down at her.
"You're welcome." Tracey sighed and glanced out the window one last time. "Well, it's almost time for dinner. We should head down to the Great Hall."
Together, they left the hospital wing.
* * *
Tracey was unusually quiet all through dinner, which caused Albus and Minerva some concern. As the three made their way up to the Headmaster's office after dinner, she walked a little apart from the other two, her auburn head bowed in thought.
Speaking softly so only Albus could hear, Minerva asked, "Albus, do you know what's wrong with Miss Cooper?"
He looked down at her, surprised. "I was about to ask you the same, Minerva."
"I take it you don't know, then?" Minerva asked quietly, glancing over at the other witch.
He shook his head. "I wish I did. You don't know, either?"
"No, I don't," she confirmed with a shake of her head. "She was fine when I talked with her earlier."
"Hmm." At that moment, they reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Albus' rooms. It sprang aside without needing to be told the password. They ascended to the office and moved through it into the cozy study beyond. They settled into armchairs in front of the fire. "Would either of you care for something to drink? Tea? Hot chocolate? Coffee?"
"Tea will be fine, Albus," Minerva replied.
"Hot chocolate," was Tracey's barely-audible reply.
In moments, each was holding a steaming mug. Minerva sipped at her tea cautiously and made a face. "Must it be so sweet, Albus?"
He chuckled quietly. Tracey barely smiled, automatically sipping at her hot chocolate. Albus and Minerva exchanged a concerned look. "Tracey? Is something wrong?"
She looked up, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry, Father, did you say something?"
"I asked if there's something wrong," Albus replied. "Is there?"
Tracey shook her head. "No, I've just been thinking."
Albus raised a silver eyebrow. "About what?"
She sighed and, slipping her shoes off, drew her knees up to her chest. "I met Alastor Moody today."
Minerva's eyebrows rose. "When, Miss Cooper?"
"I went to the hospital wing because I've been getting a lot of headaches lately," Tracey explained. "I was hoping Poppy would be able to do something for me. I made the mistake of not knocking before I went into the hospital wing."
"Let me guess," Minerva inserted dryly, "Alastor was with Poppy?"
Tracey nodded. "Yes, and they were kissing. Needless to say, I made a discrete exit and knocked to let them know I was there."
Albus nodded wisely. "An excellent course of action."
Tracey smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "Yes, I don't think they even knew I was there until I knocked."
Minerva studied the young woman closely. Despite the smile lingering on her lips, it wasn't reaching her eyes for some reason. "Miss Cooper? Is there something else?"
Tracey sighed and stared into the fire. "Did you know that they're engaged?"
Both of them nodded. "Yes, Alastor asked for my advice before he proposed to her."
"And Poppy told me not long afterwards," Minerva added. "Why?"
Tracey shrugged. "I'm happy for them, of course, but it makes me wonder if there's someone out there for me."
"I'm sure there is, Tracey," Albus told his daughter. "It is said that there is someone out there for each of us."
This time her smile reached her eyes. "Thanks, Father."
"You're welcome, Tracey." Albus smiled gently at his daughter and Minerva felt a pang in the vicinity of her heart.
"Now," Tracey set her mug on the low table, "why did you wish to meet with Professor McGonagall and I?"
"I was merely curious as to how you've been getting on," Albus answered. "I seem to recall certain rumors circulating about you and Mr. Malfoy?"
A deep blush suffused the young woman's features as Minerva replied, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy decided he didn't need to treat Miss Cooper with respect, since she was smaller than him. And attractive to boot..."
* * *
The blonde boy sneered down at the redhead. "Why should I treat you with any respect? You don't look like you're much older than I am."
"Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Malfoy," Tracey countered quietly, her hands folded into the sleeves of her robes, much as Albus would. "Haven't you heard that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover?"
The arrogant, pointed face twisted further. "There are some books where the cover tells all."
"Not this one." Tracey's blue eyes were cold as ice and, if Minerva had been in Malfoy's position, she would have backed down.
However, Malfoy pressed the matter by grabbing the redhead and trying to kiss her. He never got that far. He instead found himself jerked off his feet and slammed onto the floor. Tracey planted a foot on his crotch and pointed her wand at his face. Her eyes were blazing and her face was flushed with anger. "You ever try that again, Mr. Malfoy, I'll do worse than take 25 points from Slytherin and a detention. Do you understand me?"
The teenager nodded, finally realizing the danger he was in. "Yes, Professor."
"Good." Tracey removed her foot and stepped back. "I will speak with Professor Snape about your detention. Now get to class."
The blonde meekly nodded and slipped into the Transfiguration classroom. The students who'd watched the display applauded loudly. Tracey blushed and entered the classroom herself...
* * *
Albus was smiling, amused, by the time Minerva finished. "A little strong, but you have to make up for being small, don't you, Tracey?"
Her face a deep red, Tracey could only nod and bury herself in her mug of hot chocolate. "Crabbe and Goyle, at least, knew better than to try to hit a girl, or even a professor."
"Thank God for small favors," Tracey muttered into the dregs of her hot chocolate.
Albus' eyes twinkled. "Well, who would like to play chess?"
* * *
Harry lay awake in bed, thinking. Several months had been and gone. Despite a few twinges from the scar on his forehead, nothing had happened to indicate that Voldemort was planning anything. It was as if he was biding his time, waiting for a signal. Making a frustrated sigh, he rolled over and began to clear his mind.
* * *
"Your Draught of the Living Death didn't work," he hissed angrily. "You ssaid you would get rid of the fool."
"Give me time," was the haughty reply. "This takes careful planning. Much more careful planning than you think."
"Time iss the one thing you don't have much of," he shot back. "And neither do I! The longer Potter sstayss alive, the better hiss chanccess of ssurviving a duel with me."
"Oh, boohoo," came the sarcastic reply. "It's always you, isn't it? Not this time! This time it's about me and what _I_ want! And I want Albus Dumbledore dead! I've waited fifty-one years for this chance and I'm going to take it!"
With that, Voldemort's partner in crime turned and swept out of the room. The tall, lanky wizard glared at the door, red eyes glowing malevolently. "Wormtail!"
A small, pudgy man with thinning colorless hair and a silver hand appeared. "Y-yes, m-my Lord?"
"We musst make planss," Voldemort hissed. "In casse our ally failss."
"Yes, m-my L-Lord."
Chapter Eight - Time Passes
A/N: This is officially my longest fic ever! Many thanks to Filodea and Thestral for their help!
Tracey slowly walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, rubbing fretfully at her forehead. She got these headaches periodically and they usually indicated that she needed a change in the prescription of her glasses. The last time she'd had the lenses of her glasses changed was two years before, so she guessed she was about due for another change. That was why she was on her way to the hospital wing, to ask if Poppy could do anything for her. She finally reached the hospital wing and, without stopping to knock, entered. Her eyes grew very round at the sight that met her eyes and she quickly backed out of the room and knocked on the door. "Poppy?"
She heard a flurry of movement, a rustle of robes, and the distinct clunk of wood on stone. The door opened to reveal the school nurse looking rather flushed and breathless, her hair mussed. "Hello, Tracey, what can I do for you?"
"May I come in?" Tracey asked politely, trying to remain calm.
"Oh, right." Poppy reluctantly opened the door wider to let the younger woman enter. Tracey slipped past her into the hospital wing, immediately spotting the man standing at the window, leaning on a walking staff.
"Hello," Tracey greeted him, even though she knew who he was. "Who are you?"
The man turned from the window, revealing the magical eye spinning rapidly in his right eye socket. He studied her closely for a moment before looking past her at Poppy. "Poppy?"
"She's alright, Alastor," Poppy told him, moving around Tracey to put a hand on his arm. "This is Tracey Cooper, the headmaster's daughter." Poppy looked at the redhead. "Tracey, this is Alastor Moody, a very dear friend of mine."
"Hello, Mr. Moody," Tracey extended her hand to him. The hand that gripped hers was laced with scars, but his grip was strong. "It's nice to meet you."
He studied her closely with both eyes and she bore the scrutiny without comment. "Miss Cooper. I've never seen you before."
She flexed her hand when he released it, trying to get the blood flowing again. "I've been in America studying among the Muggles for the past hundred years or so. I accidentally drank an Ageing potion that turned me back into a twenty-year-old and my memories got muddled up in the process."
He grunted in acknowledgement. "You shouldn't volunteer information like that. For all you know, I could be your enemy."
"You're not," she answered simply.
He looked sharply at her. "How can you be sure?"
She smiled enigmatically at him. "I have my ways."
"You sound like Albus," he muttered gruffly.
"Thank you," she replied with a curtsey.
"I didn't mean it as a compliment," he countered, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a smile.
"I know," she made no effort to hide her smile, "but I took it as one."
"Obviously."
"That's enough, both of you," Poppy inserted. "Miss Cooper, why are you here?"
Tracey slipped her glasses off and handed them to the mediwitch. "I think my prescription needs to be changed, Poppy. I've been getting headaches too often lately."
"Have a seat on the bed," Poppy told her absently, examining the glasses closely. "I'll see what I can do."
Alastor cleared his throat. "I need to go now."
Poppy looked up at him with disappointment on her face. "Must you, Alastor?"
He nodded, clumping closer and raising his free hand to cup her cheek. "Yes, Poppy. I'll write, I promise."
She covered his hand with hers, her brown eyes locked with his. "You know I'll write."
He nodded and kissed her tenderly, bringing a lump to Tracey's throat and she quickly averted her gaze. "I love you, Poppy."
"I love you, too, Alastor," she whispered.
Tracey waited until the door had shut behind the retired Auror before looking at the older witch once more. "Poppy?"
"Hmm?" Poppy looked at Tracey distractedly.
"My glasses?" Tracey gently prodded.
"Oh! Right." Poppy blinked and looked at the glasses in her hand. She tapped the lenses with her wand, and then between Tracey's eyes. Once the orange glow that had surrounded both faded, Poppy handed the glasses back to Tracey. "There you go."
Tracey slipped them back on. "Thanks, Poppy."
"You're welcome, Tracey," Poppy replied, turning to look out the window.
Tracey joined her at the window in time to see Alastor Moody disappear into thin air outside the gates of Hogwarts. "How long have you two been a couple?"
Poppy glanced sharply at the younger woman, but Tracey stared determinedly out the window. The mediwitch sighed. "We've known each other for years, but I didn't truly let myself love him until a little over a year ago."
Tracey frowned, but continued to look out the window at nothing. "Why?"
Another sigh. "Alastor's family life wasn't the best in the world and he learned early on not to let himself care about anyone. However, Minerva, Xiomara, Sylvia, and I refused to let him keep us at arm's length and we all befriended him." Tracey grinned. "As time passed, he and I grew closer together, but he was trained that to love someone was a weakness that could be exploited during his Auror training. I knew of this fact and respected his wish to remain strictly friends." Poppy blinked back tears. "When he was brought in after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, I decided not to waste time and let myself love him as I should have. Neither of us has looked back."
Tracey looked up at the older witch with an impish smile. "So, has he proposed yet?"
Poppy smiled calmly and held up her left hand. A silver ring with two sets of initials engraved on it shimmered in the twilight sun shining through the window. Tracey looked closely at the initials and smiled: AM and PP. "Congratulations, Poppy."
"Thank you, Tracey." Poppy smiled down at her.
"You're welcome." Tracey sighed and glanced out the window one last time. "Well, it's almost time for dinner. We should head down to the Great Hall."
Together, they left the hospital wing.
* * *
Tracey was unusually quiet all through dinner, which caused Albus and Minerva some concern. As the three made their way up to the Headmaster's office after dinner, she walked a little apart from the other two, her auburn head bowed in thought.
Speaking softly so only Albus could hear, Minerva asked, "Albus, do you know what's wrong with Miss Cooper?"
He looked down at her, surprised. "I was about to ask you the same, Minerva."
"I take it you don't know, then?" Minerva asked quietly, glancing over at the other witch.
He shook his head. "I wish I did. You don't know, either?"
"No, I don't," she confirmed with a shake of her head. "She was fine when I talked with her earlier."
"Hmm." At that moment, they reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Albus' rooms. It sprang aside without needing to be told the password. They ascended to the office and moved through it into the cozy study beyond. They settled into armchairs in front of the fire. "Would either of you care for something to drink? Tea? Hot chocolate? Coffee?"
"Tea will be fine, Albus," Minerva replied.
"Hot chocolate," was Tracey's barely-audible reply.
In moments, each was holding a steaming mug. Minerva sipped at her tea cautiously and made a face. "Must it be so sweet, Albus?"
He chuckled quietly. Tracey barely smiled, automatically sipping at her hot chocolate. Albus and Minerva exchanged a concerned look. "Tracey? Is something wrong?"
She looked up, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry, Father, did you say something?"
"I asked if there's something wrong," Albus replied. "Is there?"
Tracey shook her head. "No, I've just been thinking."
Albus raised a silver eyebrow. "About what?"
She sighed and, slipping her shoes off, drew her knees up to her chest. "I met Alastor Moody today."
Minerva's eyebrows rose. "When, Miss Cooper?"
"I went to the hospital wing because I've been getting a lot of headaches lately," Tracey explained. "I was hoping Poppy would be able to do something for me. I made the mistake of not knocking before I went into the hospital wing."
"Let me guess," Minerva inserted dryly, "Alastor was with Poppy?"
Tracey nodded. "Yes, and they were kissing. Needless to say, I made a discrete exit and knocked to let them know I was there."
Albus nodded wisely. "An excellent course of action."
Tracey smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "Yes, I don't think they even knew I was there until I knocked."
Minerva studied the young woman closely. Despite the smile lingering on her lips, it wasn't reaching her eyes for some reason. "Miss Cooper? Is there something else?"
Tracey sighed and stared into the fire. "Did you know that they're engaged?"
Both of them nodded. "Yes, Alastor asked for my advice before he proposed to her."
"And Poppy told me not long afterwards," Minerva added. "Why?"
Tracey shrugged. "I'm happy for them, of course, but it makes me wonder if there's someone out there for me."
"I'm sure there is, Tracey," Albus told his daughter. "It is said that there is someone out there for each of us."
This time her smile reached her eyes. "Thanks, Father."
"You're welcome, Tracey." Albus smiled gently at his daughter and Minerva felt a pang in the vicinity of her heart.
"Now," Tracey set her mug on the low table, "why did you wish to meet with Professor McGonagall and I?"
"I was merely curious as to how you've been getting on," Albus answered. "I seem to recall certain rumors circulating about you and Mr. Malfoy?"
A deep blush suffused the young woman's features as Minerva replied, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy decided he didn't need to treat Miss Cooper with respect, since she was smaller than him. And attractive to boot..."
* * *
The blonde boy sneered down at the redhead. "Why should I treat you with any respect? You don't look like you're much older than I am."
"Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Malfoy," Tracey countered quietly, her hands folded into the sleeves of her robes, much as Albus would. "Haven't you heard that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover?"
The arrogant, pointed face twisted further. "There are some books where the cover tells all."
"Not this one." Tracey's blue eyes were cold as ice and, if Minerva had been in Malfoy's position, she would have backed down.
However, Malfoy pressed the matter by grabbing the redhead and trying to kiss her. He never got that far. He instead found himself jerked off his feet and slammed onto the floor. Tracey planted a foot on his crotch and pointed her wand at his face. Her eyes were blazing and her face was flushed with anger. "You ever try that again, Mr. Malfoy, I'll do worse than take 25 points from Slytherin and a detention. Do you understand me?"
The teenager nodded, finally realizing the danger he was in. "Yes, Professor."
"Good." Tracey removed her foot and stepped back. "I will speak with Professor Snape about your detention. Now get to class."
The blonde meekly nodded and slipped into the Transfiguration classroom. The students who'd watched the display applauded loudly. Tracey blushed and entered the classroom herself...
* * *
Albus was smiling, amused, by the time Minerva finished. "A little strong, but you have to make up for being small, don't you, Tracey?"
Her face a deep red, Tracey could only nod and bury herself in her mug of hot chocolate. "Crabbe and Goyle, at least, knew better than to try to hit a girl, or even a professor."
"Thank God for small favors," Tracey muttered into the dregs of her hot chocolate.
Albus' eyes twinkled. "Well, who would like to play chess?"
* * *
Harry lay awake in bed, thinking. Several months had been and gone. Despite a few twinges from the scar on his forehead, nothing had happened to indicate that Voldemort was planning anything. It was as if he was biding his time, waiting for a signal. Making a frustrated sigh, he rolled over and began to clear his mind.
* * *
"Your Draught of the Living Death didn't work," he hissed angrily. "You ssaid you would get rid of the fool."
"Give me time," was the haughty reply. "This takes careful planning. Much more careful planning than you think."
"Time iss the one thing you don't have much of," he shot back. "And neither do I! The longer Potter sstayss alive, the better hiss chanccess of ssurviving a duel with me."
"Oh, boohoo," came the sarcastic reply. "It's always you, isn't it? Not this time! This time it's about me and what _I_ want! And I want Albus Dumbledore dead! I've waited fifty-one years for this chance and I'm going to take it!"
With that, Voldemort's partner in crime turned and swept out of the room. The tall, lanky wizard glared at the door, red eyes glowing malevolently. "Wormtail!"
A small, pudgy man with thinning colorless hair and a silver hand appeared. "Y-yes, m-my Lord?"
"We musst make planss," Voldemort hissed. "In casse our ally failss."
"Yes, m-my L-Lord."