Out of the Clear Blue Sky
Chapter Thirteen - Masquerade
A/N: Sorry it took so long. I couldn't think of a way to handle the Ball and I have schoolwork to do now. Anyway, here it is and probably not what you were expecting. *wink*
"A Masquerade Ball?" Alastor Moody demanded upon hearing the news. "Doesn't he realize he's inviting trouble?"
"Alastor, calm down," Poppy told her new husband, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You're not doing yourself any favors getting worked up like this."
"I can't help it, Poppy," he replied, resuming his seat on the couch and stretching his wooden leg out in front of him with a half-stifled sigh. "I can't believe Albus would do such a thing."
"He has his reasons, I'm sure," she answered soothingly, sitting down beside him.
He looked down at her and his face softened. He still had trouble believing this woman--this wonderful, beautiful woman--wanted to share her life with him. He raised one scarred hand and cupped her face with it. "I know, but requiring everyone to wear masks doesn't make my job easier."
She leaned into his caress, her slender hand rising to cover his. "Albus told me that you're not to use your magical eye to look through masks, because that would ruin the fun of the Ball."
He made a growl of frustration. "I'm beginning to think he wants to make this as hard on me as possible. Besides, what if I accidentally do?"
"I've thought of costumes for us that will prevent that," she informed him with a smile. "And account for your wooden leg."
"Oh?" He looked at her questioningly. "What is it?" She whispered in his ear. "Not a bad idea. Not a bad one at all."
She smiled. "Does that mean you agree?"
He nodded. "Yes, it does."
Still smiling, she leaned forward to kiss him. Gathering her close, he deepened the kiss.
* * *
"Minerva?" She blinked and looked at the man sitting across from her.
"Yes, Albus?" she asked, glancing briefly at the young woman seated nearby. Tracey was lost in thought, gazing absently into the fire.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, concerned, bright blue eyes gazing into her dark green ones.
She nodded, a little puzzled by the question. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"It's been your move for 15 minutes and you haven't done a thing," he told her quietly.
"Oh." She looked down at the board, beginning to contemplate her next move.
A sudden move nearby startled both of them and they looked to see Tracey standing and stretching. "Off to bed, Tracey?"
The young witch nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yes, Father. Good night."
"Good night, Tracey," he replied as she leaned over and kissed his whiskered cheek.
Tracey turned to Minerva. "Good night, Professor."
"Good night, Miss Cooper," Minerva replied as Tracey headed for the door and turned her attention back to the game. She was still mulling over her next move when Albus cleared his throat. "I wonder, Albus, how you expect me to make my move when you interrupt me?"
He waited until she'd ordered her knight to a square from which one of Albus' rooks and a bishop were threatened before speaking. "I was wondering if you've given any thought to the Masquerade Ball, my dear?"
She stifled a groan of annoyance. "Is there a reason you asked?"
"Well, staff members may attend with other staff members if they wish," he explained a little hesitantly, "and I was wondering if I may escort you."
She stared at him, wondering if he could hear how her heart had begun to pound in her chest. "You wish to escort me to the Masquerade Ball?"
He nodded, no sign of a twinkle in his eyes. In fact, he looked almost nervous. "Yes, I do."
She considered it for a moment. "Why not escort Miss Cooper? She's your daughter."
"I'm asking _you_, Minerva," he told her gently. "Not Tracey."
She slowly nodded. "Very well, you may escort me."
"Excellent," he smiled, the twinkle reappearing in his eyes. "And I know just the costumes for us."
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "What might they be?"
He shook his head. "You'll find out a week before the Ball and no sooner."
She sighed. "Couldn't you give me a hint?"
He shook his head again. "Not a one. You'll have to wait."
She made a noise of frustration. He chuckled and made his move. Several minutes later, he'd won, for once.
* * *
"Xio, _must_ I wear this?" he asked, a little plaintively, tugging at the hem of his tunic.
"Yes, Sev," she answered patiently, adjusting her mask. "You must."
"Why must I?" he demanded, giving up on the tunic and reaching up to adjust his mask.
"Because I say so," she retorted with a grin, tweaking his rear.
He jumped and turned to her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, wench?"
She grinned and nodded. "Yep."
"You realize, of course," he remarked conversationally as he looped his arms around her waist, "that you will pay for this indignity."
"I look forward to it," she purred, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.
After a long moment, he spoke again, his breathing ragged. "You realize we're going to be late, don't you?"
"So?" she asked, kissing his chin. "We'll be fashionably late."
"And there's a difference?" he asked in return, pulling her close.
She nodded, yellow eyes dancing. "There is."
He waited. When she didn't offer further explanation, he sighed. "And I'm guessing you're not going to explain it."
"Right," she answered with a laugh.
"To hell with it," he sighed. "We'll be late."
"Fashionably late," she managed before his mouth covered hers in a hungry kiss.
* * *
Tracey felt as if someone was doing a tap dance on the inside of her skull. Why did she have a headache anyway? There hadn't been any alcohol at the Ball that she knew of. Then she remembered...
_At the stroke of twelve, all the masks had been removed and her eyes had been drawn, almost like a magnet, to the one unfamiliar face. It would have been beautiful if it hadn't been for the anger and hatred etched on it. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to notice her. Ignoring the compliments on her costume (a silver tabby remarkably similar to Professor McGonagall's Animagus form), Tracey wriggled and squirmed her way through the crowd, using her smaller size to her advantage. Catching a glimpse of the woman, Tracey's heart leapt to her throat. The cold eyes were trained on Albus Dumbledore, who was accepting compliments on his Merlin costume. Beside him, Professor McGonagall (dressed as Morgaine La Fey) was also accepting compliments on her costume. Neither of the two seemed to be aware of the danger. No one seemed to realize it, except Tracey. Questions followed in her wake...
"Tracey, what is it? Is something wrong?" That came from Sarai McBride in her eagle costume.
"Tracey, careful, there." Poppy (dressed as a pirate wench to match her husband's pirate costume) sounded surprised.
"Watch it, Tracey." Griffith (dressed as a lion) sounded more amused than angry.
Just as she managed to get past the last of the people separating herself and the stranger, Tracey saw her raise a wand and point it at Albus. "NO!"
Startled, the woman swung around to see Tracey and brought her wand around to point it at the smaller witch. Before she could say a word, Tracey crashed into her, sending them both tumbling to the floor, where Tracey cracked her head hard against it. Dizzy with pain, Tracey was vaguely aware of panicked voices before blackness engulfed her._
She opened her eyes and groaned. "Ow."
"She's awake!" The voice pounded in her brain and she groaned again. "Sorry, Tracey."
"It's alright, Griffith," she told him, turning her head to smile reassuringly at him. He was still wearing his lion costume. She frowned. "How long have I been out?"
"A couple hours," he replied, picking up her hand from where it lay on the bed and squeezed it. "What in the world possessed you to do that?"
Before Tracey could reply, Poppy led Albus, Professor McGonagall, Sarai, and Snape into the room. All except Snape still wore their costumes. The Head of Slytherin was wearing his usual black robes, but Tracey clearly remembered how well he had filled out his Robin Hood costume. "How are you feeling Tracey?"
"Like the fourth day of a three day pass," she told the mediwitch. "At least, what I'd imagine it to be like."
Poppy chuckled as she cast a Diagnostic spell. She immediately sobered at what the spell told her. "I'm afraid that was a rather nasty knock you took to your head. You have a minor concussion and will have to stay awake for a few hours to make sure you didn't do too much damage."
"There's not much to damage anyway," Tracey retorted with a smile. No one else smiled and hers faded. "Oh, never mind."
"May I have a few words with Tracey and Minerva?" Albus requested, standing beside his daughter's bed. His voice was quiet and sober, no sign of the familiar twinkle in his eyes. Professor McGonagall looked at him, startled, but the others agreed, quietly leaving the room. Well, Griffith seemed a bit confused, but a touch on his shoulder from Poppy told him to come away. He was the last to leave, glancing over his shoulder one last time before closing the door behind him. Albus sat down on the bed by Tracey's hip. "Tracey, what did you think you were doing?"
"Saving you, Father," she answered quietly, raising her blue eyes to meet his. "She was going to hurt you and I couldn't let her."
Professor McGonagall looked skeptical. "How could you be sure, Miss Cooper?"
"You didn't see the look on her face, Professor," Tracey answered quietly, moving her gaze to her mentor. "I did. It frightened me, but no one else seemed to see her. I had to do _something_."
He leaned forward and gathered her into a tight hug. "Thank you, Tracey, but please be more careful in the future."
"I will, Father," Tracey assured him, returning his hug. She pulled away and glanced from Albus to Professor McGonagall. "So, what happened to the woman I tackled?" They glanced at each other and Tracey didn't like that look. "What is it?"
Albus sighed and picked up Tracey's hand. "I'm afraid she managed to get away, Tracey."
"What?" Tracey demanded, sitting up too quickly and wincing. "Ow."
"Careful, Tracey," Albus warned, conjuring up two more pillows to pile on top of the one she already had. "And yes, she _did_ get away."
"How?" Tracey asked, leaning back against the pillows.
Minerva sighed. "That we do not know, Miss Cooper. We had only turned away for a moment and, when we turned back, she was gone."
Tracey groaned and flopped her head back on her pillows. "Great."
"It's not a lost cause, Tracey," Albus told her, squeezing her hand. "We have some idea as to who is after me."
"That's _not_ reassuring, Father," Tracey retorted before yawning. "Gosh, I'm tired."
"You can't fall asleep, Miss Cooper," Minerva warned the younger witch, standing at Albus' shoulder. "You heard Poppy."
"But I'm tired," Tracey complained sleepily, her eyes falling closed.
"Minerva, would you mind getting Griffith?" Albus requested, looking up at his Deputy.
She nodded, looking a little puzzled. "Yes, Albus."
Professor McGonagall left. "Father, what are you up to?"
"I am up to nothing, Tracey," he replied, an innocent look on his face. "You need someone to help keep you awake and Griffith is the man for the job."
"There's something more to it, Father," Tracey answered suspiciously. "You're up to something and I want to know what it is."
Before Albus could answer, there was a knock on the door and it opened enough for Griffith to poke his head inside. "Hi, Min said you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Griffith," Albus replied, having stood up. "Poppy doesn't want Tracey falling asleep and, since you don't seem to have anything else to keep you occupied, I thought you would like to sit with her and keep her awake."
Tracey's eyes widened and she looked to Griffith. To her surprise, his blue- gray eyes were wide as well. He quickly looked at Albus. "With all due respect, Sir, Stew would be the better choice."
"Please, Griffith?" Albus asked quietly.
The younger wizard nodded. "Yes, Sir."
"Thank you." Albus gripped one tawny-colored shoulder before leaving.
* * *
A knock on the door disturbed Minerva as she was reading the next afternoon. "Who is it?"
"It's Tracey, Professor," Tracey's voice replied.
"Come in, Miss Cooper," Minerva answered, setting her book aside. The door opened and the smaller woman slipped inside. She had yet to return to her usual cheerful self since she'd woken up in the hospital wing. Griffith had told Xiomara that, although he and Tracey had talked quite a bit, she had rarely smiled and usually only briefly. Minerva had watched her all day and she'd been rather quiet. She'd said little at mealtimes and had spent the rest of her time in her rooms. Minerva indicated the other armchair. "Have a seat." Tracey crossed the room and sank into the offered chair, no sign of the twinkle that reminded Minerva of Albus in her blue eyes. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No, no thank you." Tracey shook her head. She wore a black dress with an aquamarine robe over it. She'd pulled the sides of her hair back, but the rest spilled in waves down her back and over her shoulders.
"Would you like a biscuit?" Minerva offered. "I have a tin of Ginger Newts around here somewhere."
A faint smile appeared at the corners of Tracey's mouth. "No, thank you."
Minerva gave an exasperated sigh, remaining curled up in her chair. "So, what brings you here?"
"I wanted to know how soon I could begin working on the actual Animagus transformation." Tracey's eyes were serious and intense when they met Minerva's. The firelight glinted on the younger woman's glasses. "After last night, I don't want to wait any longer than I have to."
Minerva nodded, sighed, and stood up to cross to the window. Outside, the sky was a mass of steel gray clouds. Snow had yet to fall, but Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures classes had been rained out several times already and Minerva wouldn't be surprised if there was more rain lurking in the clouds she saw. "I understand your reasoning, Miss Cooper, but the transformation is tricky at best and dangerous at worst. My first instinct is to err on the side of caution and say not yet." she turned from the window to Tracey, whose shoulders had slumped. "However," the younger woman looked up at Minerva hopefully, "given our current circumstances, I feel we cannot wait any longer. Continue your reading, but we will meet once a week to attempt the transformation beginning this Wednesday."
A broad smile appeared and Tracey jumped to her feet, looking more animated that she'd been all day. "Thank you, Professor."
"No thanks are necessary, Miss Cooper," Minerva assured her assistant. "It's for my peace of mind as well as yours. Hogwarts needs Albus."
Tracey nodded, crossing the room to Minerva's side. "Yes, Professor, I know."
Without warning, she hugged Minerva. Although surprised, Minerva returned it after a moment. When she'd released her mentor, Tracey smiled up at her and left the room without another word. Shaking her head, Minerva returned to her seat by the fire and picked up her book, but didn't take in another word.
* * *
That evening, a tall, quiet figure slipped into Tracey's quarters. Moving quietly, the figure crossed the sitting room and slipped into the bedroom. As in the sitting room, the bedroom was furnished in maple wood with navy blue and maroon to compliment it. The figure approached the bed and gazed down at the young woman asleep in it. Sprawled on her stomach, the covers had slipped down to her waist. The figure eased them up to her shoulders and, murmuring something in her sleep, she cuddled one of her extra pillows to her. The figure smiled and lightly stroked her auburn hair back from her face. Most had been pulled back into a braid, but a few wisps were too short to be pulled back into the braid. "Tracey, you're going to be the death of me if you're not more careful." Sighing, the figure turned and left.
* * *
"That stupid girl! She ruined everything!" Voldemort watched, amused, as his 'partner' ranted and raged. "I almost had him! Then she had to ruin it!"
"Sso get rid of her," Voldemort suggested when his partner had fallen silent. "If she posess that much of a threat, kill her and be done with it."
A/N2: I don't normally answer reviews within an author's note, but Liz asked, "does Minerva overcome her jealousy of Tracey and do Albus and Minerva end up together after that?" Unfortunately, I can't answer those questions without spoiling the plot, but rest assured that it has a somewhat happy ending. However, it's not necessarily *jealousy* Minerva feels toward Tracey, but more along the lines of losing her best friend.
Chapter Thirteen - Masquerade
A/N: Sorry it took so long. I couldn't think of a way to handle the Ball and I have schoolwork to do now. Anyway, here it is and probably not what you were expecting. *wink*
"A Masquerade Ball?" Alastor Moody demanded upon hearing the news. "Doesn't he realize he's inviting trouble?"
"Alastor, calm down," Poppy told her new husband, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You're not doing yourself any favors getting worked up like this."
"I can't help it, Poppy," he replied, resuming his seat on the couch and stretching his wooden leg out in front of him with a half-stifled sigh. "I can't believe Albus would do such a thing."
"He has his reasons, I'm sure," she answered soothingly, sitting down beside him.
He looked down at her and his face softened. He still had trouble believing this woman--this wonderful, beautiful woman--wanted to share her life with him. He raised one scarred hand and cupped her face with it. "I know, but requiring everyone to wear masks doesn't make my job easier."
She leaned into his caress, her slender hand rising to cover his. "Albus told me that you're not to use your magical eye to look through masks, because that would ruin the fun of the Ball."
He made a growl of frustration. "I'm beginning to think he wants to make this as hard on me as possible. Besides, what if I accidentally do?"
"I've thought of costumes for us that will prevent that," she informed him with a smile. "And account for your wooden leg."
"Oh?" He looked at her questioningly. "What is it?" She whispered in his ear. "Not a bad idea. Not a bad one at all."
She smiled. "Does that mean you agree?"
He nodded. "Yes, it does."
Still smiling, she leaned forward to kiss him. Gathering her close, he deepened the kiss.
* * *
"Minerva?" She blinked and looked at the man sitting across from her.
"Yes, Albus?" she asked, glancing briefly at the young woman seated nearby. Tracey was lost in thought, gazing absently into the fire.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, concerned, bright blue eyes gazing into her dark green ones.
She nodded, a little puzzled by the question. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"It's been your move for 15 minutes and you haven't done a thing," he told her quietly.
"Oh." She looked down at the board, beginning to contemplate her next move.
A sudden move nearby startled both of them and they looked to see Tracey standing and stretching. "Off to bed, Tracey?"
The young witch nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yes, Father. Good night."
"Good night, Tracey," he replied as she leaned over and kissed his whiskered cheek.
Tracey turned to Minerva. "Good night, Professor."
"Good night, Miss Cooper," Minerva replied as Tracey headed for the door and turned her attention back to the game. She was still mulling over her next move when Albus cleared his throat. "I wonder, Albus, how you expect me to make my move when you interrupt me?"
He waited until she'd ordered her knight to a square from which one of Albus' rooks and a bishop were threatened before speaking. "I was wondering if you've given any thought to the Masquerade Ball, my dear?"
She stifled a groan of annoyance. "Is there a reason you asked?"
"Well, staff members may attend with other staff members if they wish," he explained a little hesitantly, "and I was wondering if I may escort you."
She stared at him, wondering if he could hear how her heart had begun to pound in her chest. "You wish to escort me to the Masquerade Ball?"
He nodded, no sign of a twinkle in his eyes. In fact, he looked almost nervous. "Yes, I do."
She considered it for a moment. "Why not escort Miss Cooper? She's your daughter."
"I'm asking _you_, Minerva," he told her gently. "Not Tracey."
She slowly nodded. "Very well, you may escort me."
"Excellent," he smiled, the twinkle reappearing in his eyes. "And I know just the costumes for us."
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "What might they be?"
He shook his head. "You'll find out a week before the Ball and no sooner."
She sighed. "Couldn't you give me a hint?"
He shook his head again. "Not a one. You'll have to wait."
She made a noise of frustration. He chuckled and made his move. Several minutes later, he'd won, for once.
* * *
"Xio, _must_ I wear this?" he asked, a little plaintively, tugging at the hem of his tunic.
"Yes, Sev," she answered patiently, adjusting her mask. "You must."
"Why must I?" he demanded, giving up on the tunic and reaching up to adjust his mask.
"Because I say so," she retorted with a grin, tweaking his rear.
He jumped and turned to her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, wench?"
She grinned and nodded. "Yep."
"You realize, of course," he remarked conversationally as he looped his arms around her waist, "that you will pay for this indignity."
"I look forward to it," she purred, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.
After a long moment, he spoke again, his breathing ragged. "You realize we're going to be late, don't you?"
"So?" she asked, kissing his chin. "We'll be fashionably late."
"And there's a difference?" he asked in return, pulling her close.
She nodded, yellow eyes dancing. "There is."
He waited. When she didn't offer further explanation, he sighed. "And I'm guessing you're not going to explain it."
"Right," she answered with a laugh.
"To hell with it," he sighed. "We'll be late."
"Fashionably late," she managed before his mouth covered hers in a hungry kiss.
* * *
Tracey felt as if someone was doing a tap dance on the inside of her skull. Why did she have a headache anyway? There hadn't been any alcohol at the Ball that she knew of. Then she remembered...
_At the stroke of twelve, all the masks had been removed and her eyes had been drawn, almost like a magnet, to the one unfamiliar face. It would have been beautiful if it hadn't been for the anger and hatred etched on it. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to notice her. Ignoring the compliments on her costume (a silver tabby remarkably similar to Professor McGonagall's Animagus form), Tracey wriggled and squirmed her way through the crowd, using her smaller size to her advantage. Catching a glimpse of the woman, Tracey's heart leapt to her throat. The cold eyes were trained on Albus Dumbledore, who was accepting compliments on his Merlin costume. Beside him, Professor McGonagall (dressed as Morgaine La Fey) was also accepting compliments on her costume. Neither of the two seemed to be aware of the danger. No one seemed to realize it, except Tracey. Questions followed in her wake...
"Tracey, what is it? Is something wrong?" That came from Sarai McBride in her eagle costume.
"Tracey, careful, there." Poppy (dressed as a pirate wench to match her husband's pirate costume) sounded surprised.
"Watch it, Tracey." Griffith (dressed as a lion) sounded more amused than angry.
Just as she managed to get past the last of the people separating herself and the stranger, Tracey saw her raise a wand and point it at Albus. "NO!"
Startled, the woman swung around to see Tracey and brought her wand around to point it at the smaller witch. Before she could say a word, Tracey crashed into her, sending them both tumbling to the floor, where Tracey cracked her head hard against it. Dizzy with pain, Tracey was vaguely aware of panicked voices before blackness engulfed her._
She opened her eyes and groaned. "Ow."
"She's awake!" The voice pounded in her brain and she groaned again. "Sorry, Tracey."
"It's alright, Griffith," she told him, turning her head to smile reassuringly at him. He was still wearing his lion costume. She frowned. "How long have I been out?"
"A couple hours," he replied, picking up her hand from where it lay on the bed and squeezed it. "What in the world possessed you to do that?"
Before Tracey could reply, Poppy led Albus, Professor McGonagall, Sarai, and Snape into the room. All except Snape still wore their costumes. The Head of Slytherin was wearing his usual black robes, but Tracey clearly remembered how well he had filled out his Robin Hood costume. "How are you feeling Tracey?"
"Like the fourth day of a three day pass," she told the mediwitch. "At least, what I'd imagine it to be like."
Poppy chuckled as she cast a Diagnostic spell. She immediately sobered at what the spell told her. "I'm afraid that was a rather nasty knock you took to your head. You have a minor concussion and will have to stay awake for a few hours to make sure you didn't do too much damage."
"There's not much to damage anyway," Tracey retorted with a smile. No one else smiled and hers faded. "Oh, never mind."
"May I have a few words with Tracey and Minerva?" Albus requested, standing beside his daughter's bed. His voice was quiet and sober, no sign of the familiar twinkle in his eyes. Professor McGonagall looked at him, startled, but the others agreed, quietly leaving the room. Well, Griffith seemed a bit confused, but a touch on his shoulder from Poppy told him to come away. He was the last to leave, glancing over his shoulder one last time before closing the door behind him. Albus sat down on the bed by Tracey's hip. "Tracey, what did you think you were doing?"
"Saving you, Father," she answered quietly, raising her blue eyes to meet his. "She was going to hurt you and I couldn't let her."
Professor McGonagall looked skeptical. "How could you be sure, Miss Cooper?"
"You didn't see the look on her face, Professor," Tracey answered quietly, moving her gaze to her mentor. "I did. It frightened me, but no one else seemed to see her. I had to do _something_."
He leaned forward and gathered her into a tight hug. "Thank you, Tracey, but please be more careful in the future."
"I will, Father," Tracey assured him, returning his hug. She pulled away and glanced from Albus to Professor McGonagall. "So, what happened to the woman I tackled?" They glanced at each other and Tracey didn't like that look. "What is it?"
Albus sighed and picked up Tracey's hand. "I'm afraid she managed to get away, Tracey."
"What?" Tracey demanded, sitting up too quickly and wincing. "Ow."
"Careful, Tracey," Albus warned, conjuring up two more pillows to pile on top of the one she already had. "And yes, she _did_ get away."
"How?" Tracey asked, leaning back against the pillows.
Minerva sighed. "That we do not know, Miss Cooper. We had only turned away for a moment and, when we turned back, she was gone."
Tracey groaned and flopped her head back on her pillows. "Great."
"It's not a lost cause, Tracey," Albus told her, squeezing her hand. "We have some idea as to who is after me."
"That's _not_ reassuring, Father," Tracey retorted before yawning. "Gosh, I'm tired."
"You can't fall asleep, Miss Cooper," Minerva warned the younger witch, standing at Albus' shoulder. "You heard Poppy."
"But I'm tired," Tracey complained sleepily, her eyes falling closed.
"Minerva, would you mind getting Griffith?" Albus requested, looking up at his Deputy.
She nodded, looking a little puzzled. "Yes, Albus."
Professor McGonagall left. "Father, what are you up to?"
"I am up to nothing, Tracey," he replied, an innocent look on his face. "You need someone to help keep you awake and Griffith is the man for the job."
"There's something more to it, Father," Tracey answered suspiciously. "You're up to something and I want to know what it is."
Before Albus could answer, there was a knock on the door and it opened enough for Griffith to poke his head inside. "Hi, Min said you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Griffith," Albus replied, having stood up. "Poppy doesn't want Tracey falling asleep and, since you don't seem to have anything else to keep you occupied, I thought you would like to sit with her and keep her awake."
Tracey's eyes widened and she looked to Griffith. To her surprise, his blue- gray eyes were wide as well. He quickly looked at Albus. "With all due respect, Sir, Stew would be the better choice."
"Please, Griffith?" Albus asked quietly.
The younger wizard nodded. "Yes, Sir."
"Thank you." Albus gripped one tawny-colored shoulder before leaving.
* * *
A knock on the door disturbed Minerva as she was reading the next afternoon. "Who is it?"
"It's Tracey, Professor," Tracey's voice replied.
"Come in, Miss Cooper," Minerva answered, setting her book aside. The door opened and the smaller woman slipped inside. She had yet to return to her usual cheerful self since she'd woken up in the hospital wing. Griffith had told Xiomara that, although he and Tracey had talked quite a bit, she had rarely smiled and usually only briefly. Minerva had watched her all day and she'd been rather quiet. She'd said little at mealtimes and had spent the rest of her time in her rooms. Minerva indicated the other armchair. "Have a seat." Tracey crossed the room and sank into the offered chair, no sign of the twinkle that reminded Minerva of Albus in her blue eyes. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No, no thank you." Tracey shook her head. She wore a black dress with an aquamarine robe over it. She'd pulled the sides of her hair back, but the rest spilled in waves down her back and over her shoulders.
"Would you like a biscuit?" Minerva offered. "I have a tin of Ginger Newts around here somewhere."
A faint smile appeared at the corners of Tracey's mouth. "No, thank you."
Minerva gave an exasperated sigh, remaining curled up in her chair. "So, what brings you here?"
"I wanted to know how soon I could begin working on the actual Animagus transformation." Tracey's eyes were serious and intense when they met Minerva's. The firelight glinted on the younger woman's glasses. "After last night, I don't want to wait any longer than I have to."
Minerva nodded, sighed, and stood up to cross to the window. Outside, the sky was a mass of steel gray clouds. Snow had yet to fall, but Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures classes had been rained out several times already and Minerva wouldn't be surprised if there was more rain lurking in the clouds she saw. "I understand your reasoning, Miss Cooper, but the transformation is tricky at best and dangerous at worst. My first instinct is to err on the side of caution and say not yet." she turned from the window to Tracey, whose shoulders had slumped. "However," the younger woman looked up at Minerva hopefully, "given our current circumstances, I feel we cannot wait any longer. Continue your reading, but we will meet once a week to attempt the transformation beginning this Wednesday."
A broad smile appeared and Tracey jumped to her feet, looking more animated that she'd been all day. "Thank you, Professor."
"No thanks are necessary, Miss Cooper," Minerva assured her assistant. "It's for my peace of mind as well as yours. Hogwarts needs Albus."
Tracey nodded, crossing the room to Minerva's side. "Yes, Professor, I know."
Without warning, she hugged Minerva. Although surprised, Minerva returned it after a moment. When she'd released her mentor, Tracey smiled up at her and left the room without another word. Shaking her head, Minerva returned to her seat by the fire and picked up her book, but didn't take in another word.
* * *
That evening, a tall, quiet figure slipped into Tracey's quarters. Moving quietly, the figure crossed the sitting room and slipped into the bedroom. As in the sitting room, the bedroom was furnished in maple wood with navy blue and maroon to compliment it. The figure approached the bed and gazed down at the young woman asleep in it. Sprawled on her stomach, the covers had slipped down to her waist. The figure eased them up to her shoulders and, murmuring something in her sleep, she cuddled one of her extra pillows to her. The figure smiled and lightly stroked her auburn hair back from her face. Most had been pulled back into a braid, but a few wisps were too short to be pulled back into the braid. "Tracey, you're going to be the death of me if you're not more careful." Sighing, the figure turned and left.
* * *
"That stupid girl! She ruined everything!" Voldemort watched, amused, as his 'partner' ranted and raged. "I almost had him! Then she had to ruin it!"
"Sso get rid of her," Voldemort suggested when his partner had fallen silent. "If she posess that much of a threat, kill her and be done with it."
A/N2: I don't normally answer reviews within an author's note, but Liz asked, "does Minerva overcome her jealousy of Tracey and do Albus and Minerva end up together after that?" Unfortunately, I can't answer those questions without spoiling the plot, but rest assured that it has a somewhat happy ending. However, it's not necessarily *jealousy* Minerva feels toward Tracey, but more along the lines of losing her best friend.