Out of the Clear Blue Sky
Chapter Fourteen - Happy Christmas
A/N: Here we are. Tracey begins working on the Animagus transformation, gets her first taste of Quidditch, and the winter holidays arrive. There's a question at the end of the fic, please answer it when you review. Thank you.
As promised, Minerva began working with Tracey on the practical transformation the following Wednesday. Much to her annoyance, she didn't accomplish much. She wasn't even sure what her Animagus form would _be_. When they agreed to stop for the week, Tracey felt defeated. "I won't be able to do it, Professor."
"Nonsense, Tracey." The older witch's voice was brisk, but the hand she placed on the younger witch's shoulder was comforting. "Rome wasn't built in a day, you know. I worked on the transformation for over a year before I succeeded."
Tracey nodded. "So you've said. Did you ever get frustrated?"
Minerva nodded as she began ushering her assistant towards the door. "Yes, I did, although I wouldn't be surprised if you have more patience than I did." She glanced around before speaking again. "Your father certainly does."
Tracey grinned, a look in her eye that Minerva couldn't quite discern. "Yes, he's more patient than I am, though I don't think I ever want him mad at me."
Minerva shook her head. "You certainly don't. There's a reason You-Know-Who is afraid of him."
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Why not call him Voldemort and be done with it?"
Minerva sniffed disdainfully as they continued towards Tracey's rooms. "Because the name is ridiculous and I refuse to call him that."
Tracey snickered. "So call him He-With-The-Ridiculous-Name instead. I'm sure everyone would love that, particularly Xiomara."
"Hmm, that idea has merit, actually," Minerva commented thoughtfully.
"I didn't expect you to take me seriously," Tracey returned, startled, but her smile reappearing all the same.
"Never let it be said that I am predictable all the time," Minerva told Tracey with a wink before leaving the younger witch and heading for her own rooms.
Tracey's eyes were round as she stared after her idol. "Minerva McGonagall actually winked at me. My friends would never believe it." Shaking her head, Tracey disappeared into her rooms.
* * *
That Saturday, Tracey got her first taste of Quidditch. As she sat next to her father, watching the players zip around on their broomsticks, she began to appreciate why Harry and Ron were so obsessed. If she wasn't careful, she'd get drawn into it herself. As a member of the staff, she wasn't supposed to favor one House over another, but she couldn't help hoping Gryffindor would win. Not because the Slytherins were evil gits, but because Harry needed something to cheer him up. Tracey frowned thoughtfully as she watched the boy circle the pitch. Bright green eyes flitted from place to place, searching for the ever-elusive Snitch. He'd seemed a little on the thin side when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts in September, but he'd filled out quite nicely and she couldn't help admiring his physique. Feeling her face grow warm, she tore her eyes away and watched as the Gryffindor Chasers moved the Quaffle to the Slytherin end of the pitch. A roar erupted from the stands when Ginny scored. A glance at the other end of the pitch told Tracey Ron was happy for his sister. Just then, a red blur sped past, with a green blur right behind it. The stands fell silent as Harry and Draco hurtled downwards, the Snitch fluttering just in front of them.
When Harry managed to catch the Snitch after a short, but intense, chase, every single staff member watched to make sure a repeat of last year's game didn't happen. Looking mad enough to breathe fire, Draco strode off the pitch, his team trailing after him. The Gryffindors surged onto the field and swamped their team. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws offered their congratulations before heading up to the castle. Tracey sat slumped in her seat, relieved. "Tracey?"
She looked up into a pair of curious blue-gray eyes. "Yes, Griffith?"
"Are you coming or not?" he asked quietly.
She looked around, startled. The stands were empty now. "Oh! Yes, I am, actually." Taking the hand he offered, she scrambled to her feet. When she tried to take a step, her foot caught on the hem of her cloak and she stumbled against him, his arms automatically enfolding her. "I'm sorry, I'm not normally this clumsy."
"It's alright." His voice was unusually soft and gentle.
Her cheeks grew warm as she wondered why he hadn't let go of her. "Um, I _can_ stand, you know."
"I'm sure you can," he murmured, raising a hand to brush a loose strand of her hair back from her face.
"GRIFFITH! TRACEY!" Xiomara's shout startled both of them. "STOP SNOGGING AND LET'S GO!"
"Shall we, then?" Griffith asked, offering his arm like a true gentleman.
"Yes, we shall." Tracey took his arm and allowed him to help her from the stands, wondering all the time why her cheeks were still warm.
* * *
"What's this I hear about you and Griffith snogging, Tracey?" Albus' mild question drew Minerva's gaze from the flames that evening. As had become habit, she, Albus, and Tracey had gathered in his study to play chess.
Looking at the younger woman, Minerva noticed that her face seemed unusually flushed as she determinedly kept her gaze on the chessboard. "Nothing, Father."
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Minerva, who shrugged. This was the first time she'd heard of any snogging that might have occurred between Griffith and Tracey. "Not from what Xiomara shouted up at you two."
"She saw him holding me, Father," Tracey explained, her gaze still on the chessboard. "We were not snogging."
"Then why was he holding you?" Albus inquired gently.
Tracey sighed. "My foot caught on my robe when I stood up, so I ended up stumbling and he caught me."
"Ah." Albus glanced at Minerva once more. "Well, we've all been known to misconstrue something we've seen."
"Knowing Xiomara, it was almost a given that she would misconstrue what she saw," Minerva added.
Tracey nodded absently, but said nothing. About fifteen minutes later, Tracey had lost spectacularly. She stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have the second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws tomorrow."
Albus and Minerva watched Tracey leave the room before turning back to each other. "Albus, was that necessary?"
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "What do you mean, my dear?"
She sighed. "You embarrassed her by asking about her and Griffith."
"Embarrassed her?" Albus asked, surprised. "Why should that embarrass her?"
"Think about it, Albus," she told him patiently. "Tracey is a rather attractive young woman, Griffith is quite handsome. I wouldn't be surprised if there's an attraction between them."
"If Griffith's so handsome, why aren't _you_ attracted to him, Minerva?" he asked curiously. "After all, you're quite lovely yourself."
Minerva felt the heat rise to her cheeks. "There's more to it than looks, Albus."
"Obviously," he answered quietly, studying her flushed face. "_Is_ there anything between you and Griffith?"
She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. He's just a dear friend."
"I'm glad."
The quiet comment surprised her. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head. "Never mind. It's getting late, you should go to bed yourself."
She nodded slowly, studying him for a long moment before standing and leaving the study herself. Still in his chair by the abandoned chessboard, Albus gazed thoughtfully into the fire. In her rooms, Tracey lay awake in bed, trying hard not to think about Griffith Hooch, but failing miserably. Minerva went through the motions of preparing for bed mechanically, wondering what Albus had meant by 'I'm glad'.
* * *
Sarai watched from her office window as the last of the carriages drawn by thestrals trundled down the winding drive. With no Yule Ball to entice the students to stay and the shadow of Voldemort looming over everything, most students were going home for the winter holidays. Even Harry Potter would be spending the holidays with the Weasleys instead of at Hogwarts. Sighing, she turned from the window and back to her desk. It was covered with homework that still needed to be marked, but she didn't feel much like taking care of it right now. Coming to a decision, she left her office and headed to the staff lounge. Opening the door quietly, she grinned. Xiomara Hooch had apparently caught Severus Snape because they were kissing rather passionately. Sarai shut the door more loudly than necessary and, when that didn't work, cleared her throat ostentatiously. The couple finally pulled apart and turned to where Sarai was standing. "Hi, Sarai!"
"Hello, Xiomara, Severus." Sarai nodded to each of them, smiling. "Enjoying the season, I see."
Xiomara grinned and leaned against Severus' chest. "You could say that."
"Xio, hush," Severus instructed her.
She proceeded to stick her tongue out at him. He reached up and tugged on it. "Put that away, please."
Xiomara rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a party poop, Sev."
Sighing, Severus leaned down and captured her mouth in another kiss. Sarai looked away, because the obvious intensity of it reminded her of her deceased husband. She stared into the fire and did her best not to hear the obvious sounds indicating that the pair had left. That would be most difficult part of the holidays: celebrating without Reuben. She sighed and stared moodily into the fire. She didn't look up when the door opened and closed. "Sarai?"
The familiar voice, however, brought Sarai up and out of her chair. A tall, slightly muscular woman with straight auburn hair and gray eyes stood in the doorway with a taller black man missing one of his arms; a young woman with smooth golden-brown skin, curly black hair, and dark gray eyes; and a seventh year boy in Ravenclaw robes with warm brown skin, chocolate brown eyes, and dark brown hair. Sarai's face lit up. "Mom! Dad! Fiona! Sean!"
As Sarai's parents and children gathered around her, Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, watching them almost wistfully. She was glad she'd been able to do this for her niece, but observing the family reunion reminded her how alone she was. After giving them a few moments, Minerva cleared her throat. "Sarai, you may leave Hogwarts for the holidays if you wish."
"What about you, Minnie?" Artemis asked, drawing a glare from her younger sister. "You're family, too."
"I'm sorry, Temmi," Artemis glared at Minerva, "but I'm needed here."
Artemis studied Minerva for a few moments. "Can we speak alone for a moment?"
"Of course," Minerva nodded and gestured for Artemis to precede her from the staff room.
Once the door closed behind them, Artemis spoke. "Have you told him yet?"
"Told whom what?" Minerva asked, pretending ignorance.
Artemis snorted indelicately. "You _know_ who I'm referring to, Minnie."
"Why don't you enlighten me?" Minerva asked, folding her arms across her chest.
"Uncle Albus, of course," Artemis retorted. "You've been in love with him for decades. Don't think I haven't noticed."
Minerva glared. "Look, Temmi, let me handle this _my_ way. I get enough from Xiomara, Poppy, and Sylvia."
"Good," Artemis replied. Minerva sighed. "Look, I'm only asking because I love you and want you to be happy."
"I know," Minerva grudgingly admitted. "It's just...I've never seen anything from him to indicate that he might return my feelings and I don't want to risk it yet."
Artemis nodded. "I understand, Minnie, but sometimes you have to take that risk."
"I'll keep that in mind, Temmi." Artemis made a face and Minerva laughed. "If you insist on calling me 'Minnie', I'll call you 'Temmi'."
Artemis laughed. "Okay, okay, Minerva. You have a Happy Christmas, alright?"
"I certainly hope so," Minerva replied, hugging Artemis. Within a few minutes, Minerva was alone once more, with the memory of hugs from Michael, Sarai, Fiona, and Sean to warm her as she trekked through the cold corridors to her rooms.
* * *
Tracey loved to play in the snow. Now that the holidays had arrived, she could be found out on the grounds at all hours of the day, playing in the snow. Sometimes she played with the older students and sometimes she played with Xiomara and Stewart, who was slowly regaining his memory and his health under the watchful eye of his sister. Two or three days before Christmas, she was enjoying the snow by herself when a snowball unexpectedly hit her in one shoulder. She turned quickly to see Griffith standing several paces away, a broad grin on his face. "Hi, Tracey."
She smiled back, even as she began packing a snowball of her own. "Hi, Griffith."
They were soon engaged in an all-out snowball fight. They fired snowballs back and forth even as they dodged. Soon both were soaked and breathless with laughter, agreeing to call a truce. "You're good at this."
"Thanks," she puffed, flopping back into the snow and beginning to make a snow angel. "I didn't see much snow in America."
"Well that depends," he commented, watching her for a long moment. She was wearing a fawn-colored dress with red braid trim along the hem, collar, and edges of her sleeves. Over that she wore a black robe, also trimmed with red braid. A cloak the same fawn color as her dress trimmed with faux fur completed the ensemble. Her crimson gloves were soaked from throwing snowballs. "Which part of America did you live in?"
"Southern California," she replied, getting up carefully and turning to examine her handiwork.
"Ah, I see." He studied the snow angel she'd made. When he began brushing at her shoulders with his gloved hands, she stiffened. "Easy, you've got snow all over your back."
She nodded and stood still as he brushed the snow off her cloak. When he finished, she turned to face him. "Thank you, Griffith."
"You're welcome, Tracey," he answered with a gentle smile.
She held his gaze for a moment before looking away, wondering why her cheeks were warm. She groaned when she saw a familiar figure exit the castle. "Oh, no. Here comes 'Mara."
"Wanna get her?" Griffith asked, a mischievous look in his eyes.
Tracey grinned and began scooping up snow to make a snowball. Xiomara didn't stand a chance when two snowballs hit her, one on her shoulder, the other in her face.
* * *
When Tracey opened her door to Albus' knock on Christmas morning, he was surprised to see tear tracks on her cheeks. He swiftly entered her sitting room and closed the door behind himself. "My child, whatever is the matter?"
She sniffled and scrubbed at the tear tracks. "I miss Mom, Father."
He stared down at her, suddenly realizing just how much Tracey had to have left behind. The friends, other family, maybe even a boyfriend. "I'm sorry, Tracey, I forgot that you'd had a life before you dropped out of the sky."
She smiled in spite of the tears glittering behind her glasses. "It's alright, Father. I've been so busy that I forget sometimes, too." She sighed. "Christmas was always Mom's favorite holiday. I knew she was from England and she used to tell me how beautiful the snow was at Christmas time."
He smiled, feeling his heart wrench. "I understand, Tracey."
She studied him for a moment. "I'm not sure you do, Father."
"What?" He looked down at her, surprised.
"I was well on my way to getting a degree in English, Father," she explained quietly. "After I received it, I was going to get my credential so I could teach at the high school or middle school level. My life wasn't the greatest, but Mom loved me and Ryan, well, I wasn't _his_ daughter, but he never treated me differently from his own children. I had my cats, my books, I was happy." She turned away and walked over to look out the window, her back to him, but he heard the tears in her voice. "Then I somehow ended up here. After getting over the shock, I was delighted to be here. I was so busy with training and worrying about this stalker and teaching and marking that I haven't had time to miss that life, but," she shrugged helplessly, "I think it's finally caught up with me."
Albus walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I have something to tell you, Tracey. I meant to wait a little longer, but I think the time is right."
She turned enough to look up at him curiously. "What do you mean, Father?"
"I have contacts all over the world, including America, and I asked them to do some snooping around for me," he told her softly. "A few months ago, she told me that she'd found a couple named Sandra and Ryan Andrews living in southern California, with a thirteen-year-old daughter named Tracey Cooper, an eight-year-old daughter named Lynda, and a six-year-old son named Jeffrey. She said the most striking thing about the older daughter was that she's the spitting image of me, despite being a girl and smaller."
Tracey stared up at him, bright blue eyes wide. "You mean that I've been living in the Potterverse all this time?"
He nodded. "Yes, you have."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" she demanded, grabbing his hand and beginning to tow him towards the door. "Let's go to California!"
He planted his feet and waited for Tracey to turn back to him. "Tracey, think for a moment. What is today's date?"
She frowned, but grudgingly replied, "December 25, 1996."
"And what day did you disappear?" he asked patiently.
"July 4, 2003." She hung her head and stared at the floor. "In other words, I haven't disappeared yet. I'll have to wait seven years before I can see Mom again."
He nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."
She sighed and walked over to slump onto the couch in front of the fire. "Great."
He sat down beside her. "At least you have me now."
She smiled and curled up against her father. "And I'm glad for it, don't doubt it, but I still miss Mom."
"I understand, Tracey, but at least try to enjoy this Christmas," he told her.
"There is no try," she lectured him, a slight smile on her face. "It is either do or do not."
He chuckled. "Where is that from?"
"A Muggle movie called Star Wars," she informed him, her smile growing and a twinkle to match his appearing in her eyes once more. "Now, how about opening some presents?"
A/N2: I have question for all of you, my faithful readers: would anyone object if I sort of skimmed over the rest of the school year?
Chapter Fourteen - Happy Christmas
A/N: Here we are. Tracey begins working on the Animagus transformation, gets her first taste of Quidditch, and the winter holidays arrive. There's a question at the end of the fic, please answer it when you review. Thank you.
As promised, Minerva began working with Tracey on the practical transformation the following Wednesday. Much to her annoyance, she didn't accomplish much. She wasn't even sure what her Animagus form would _be_. When they agreed to stop for the week, Tracey felt defeated. "I won't be able to do it, Professor."
"Nonsense, Tracey." The older witch's voice was brisk, but the hand she placed on the younger witch's shoulder was comforting. "Rome wasn't built in a day, you know. I worked on the transformation for over a year before I succeeded."
Tracey nodded. "So you've said. Did you ever get frustrated?"
Minerva nodded as she began ushering her assistant towards the door. "Yes, I did, although I wouldn't be surprised if you have more patience than I did." She glanced around before speaking again. "Your father certainly does."
Tracey grinned, a look in her eye that Minerva couldn't quite discern. "Yes, he's more patient than I am, though I don't think I ever want him mad at me."
Minerva shook her head. "You certainly don't. There's a reason You-Know-Who is afraid of him."
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Why not call him Voldemort and be done with it?"
Minerva sniffed disdainfully as they continued towards Tracey's rooms. "Because the name is ridiculous and I refuse to call him that."
Tracey snickered. "So call him He-With-The-Ridiculous-Name instead. I'm sure everyone would love that, particularly Xiomara."
"Hmm, that idea has merit, actually," Minerva commented thoughtfully.
"I didn't expect you to take me seriously," Tracey returned, startled, but her smile reappearing all the same.
"Never let it be said that I am predictable all the time," Minerva told Tracey with a wink before leaving the younger witch and heading for her own rooms.
Tracey's eyes were round as she stared after her idol. "Minerva McGonagall actually winked at me. My friends would never believe it." Shaking her head, Tracey disappeared into her rooms.
* * *
That Saturday, Tracey got her first taste of Quidditch. As she sat next to her father, watching the players zip around on their broomsticks, she began to appreciate why Harry and Ron were so obsessed. If she wasn't careful, she'd get drawn into it herself. As a member of the staff, she wasn't supposed to favor one House over another, but she couldn't help hoping Gryffindor would win. Not because the Slytherins were evil gits, but because Harry needed something to cheer him up. Tracey frowned thoughtfully as she watched the boy circle the pitch. Bright green eyes flitted from place to place, searching for the ever-elusive Snitch. He'd seemed a little on the thin side when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts in September, but he'd filled out quite nicely and she couldn't help admiring his physique. Feeling her face grow warm, she tore her eyes away and watched as the Gryffindor Chasers moved the Quaffle to the Slytherin end of the pitch. A roar erupted from the stands when Ginny scored. A glance at the other end of the pitch told Tracey Ron was happy for his sister. Just then, a red blur sped past, with a green blur right behind it. The stands fell silent as Harry and Draco hurtled downwards, the Snitch fluttering just in front of them.
When Harry managed to catch the Snitch after a short, but intense, chase, every single staff member watched to make sure a repeat of last year's game didn't happen. Looking mad enough to breathe fire, Draco strode off the pitch, his team trailing after him. The Gryffindors surged onto the field and swamped their team. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws offered their congratulations before heading up to the castle. Tracey sat slumped in her seat, relieved. "Tracey?"
She looked up into a pair of curious blue-gray eyes. "Yes, Griffith?"
"Are you coming or not?" he asked quietly.
She looked around, startled. The stands were empty now. "Oh! Yes, I am, actually." Taking the hand he offered, she scrambled to her feet. When she tried to take a step, her foot caught on the hem of her cloak and she stumbled against him, his arms automatically enfolding her. "I'm sorry, I'm not normally this clumsy."
"It's alright." His voice was unusually soft and gentle.
Her cheeks grew warm as she wondered why he hadn't let go of her. "Um, I _can_ stand, you know."
"I'm sure you can," he murmured, raising a hand to brush a loose strand of her hair back from her face.
"GRIFFITH! TRACEY!" Xiomara's shout startled both of them. "STOP SNOGGING AND LET'S GO!"
"Shall we, then?" Griffith asked, offering his arm like a true gentleman.
"Yes, we shall." Tracey took his arm and allowed him to help her from the stands, wondering all the time why her cheeks were still warm.
* * *
"What's this I hear about you and Griffith snogging, Tracey?" Albus' mild question drew Minerva's gaze from the flames that evening. As had become habit, she, Albus, and Tracey had gathered in his study to play chess.
Looking at the younger woman, Minerva noticed that her face seemed unusually flushed as she determinedly kept her gaze on the chessboard. "Nothing, Father."
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Minerva, who shrugged. This was the first time she'd heard of any snogging that might have occurred between Griffith and Tracey. "Not from what Xiomara shouted up at you two."
"She saw him holding me, Father," Tracey explained, her gaze still on the chessboard. "We were not snogging."
"Then why was he holding you?" Albus inquired gently.
Tracey sighed. "My foot caught on my robe when I stood up, so I ended up stumbling and he caught me."
"Ah." Albus glanced at Minerva once more. "Well, we've all been known to misconstrue something we've seen."
"Knowing Xiomara, it was almost a given that she would misconstrue what she saw," Minerva added.
Tracey nodded absently, but said nothing. About fifteen minutes later, Tracey had lost spectacularly. She stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have the second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws tomorrow."
Albus and Minerva watched Tracey leave the room before turning back to each other. "Albus, was that necessary?"
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "What do you mean, my dear?"
She sighed. "You embarrassed her by asking about her and Griffith."
"Embarrassed her?" Albus asked, surprised. "Why should that embarrass her?"
"Think about it, Albus," she told him patiently. "Tracey is a rather attractive young woman, Griffith is quite handsome. I wouldn't be surprised if there's an attraction between them."
"If Griffith's so handsome, why aren't _you_ attracted to him, Minerva?" he asked curiously. "After all, you're quite lovely yourself."
Minerva felt the heat rise to her cheeks. "There's more to it than looks, Albus."
"Obviously," he answered quietly, studying her flushed face. "_Is_ there anything between you and Griffith?"
She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. He's just a dear friend."
"I'm glad."
The quiet comment surprised her. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head. "Never mind. It's getting late, you should go to bed yourself."
She nodded slowly, studying him for a long moment before standing and leaving the study herself. Still in his chair by the abandoned chessboard, Albus gazed thoughtfully into the fire. In her rooms, Tracey lay awake in bed, trying hard not to think about Griffith Hooch, but failing miserably. Minerva went through the motions of preparing for bed mechanically, wondering what Albus had meant by 'I'm glad'.
* * *
Sarai watched from her office window as the last of the carriages drawn by thestrals trundled down the winding drive. With no Yule Ball to entice the students to stay and the shadow of Voldemort looming over everything, most students were going home for the winter holidays. Even Harry Potter would be spending the holidays with the Weasleys instead of at Hogwarts. Sighing, she turned from the window and back to her desk. It was covered with homework that still needed to be marked, but she didn't feel much like taking care of it right now. Coming to a decision, she left her office and headed to the staff lounge. Opening the door quietly, she grinned. Xiomara Hooch had apparently caught Severus Snape because they were kissing rather passionately. Sarai shut the door more loudly than necessary and, when that didn't work, cleared her throat ostentatiously. The couple finally pulled apart and turned to where Sarai was standing. "Hi, Sarai!"
"Hello, Xiomara, Severus." Sarai nodded to each of them, smiling. "Enjoying the season, I see."
Xiomara grinned and leaned against Severus' chest. "You could say that."
"Xio, hush," Severus instructed her.
She proceeded to stick her tongue out at him. He reached up and tugged on it. "Put that away, please."
Xiomara rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a party poop, Sev."
Sighing, Severus leaned down and captured her mouth in another kiss. Sarai looked away, because the obvious intensity of it reminded her of her deceased husband. She stared into the fire and did her best not to hear the obvious sounds indicating that the pair had left. That would be most difficult part of the holidays: celebrating without Reuben. She sighed and stared moodily into the fire. She didn't look up when the door opened and closed. "Sarai?"
The familiar voice, however, brought Sarai up and out of her chair. A tall, slightly muscular woman with straight auburn hair and gray eyes stood in the doorway with a taller black man missing one of his arms; a young woman with smooth golden-brown skin, curly black hair, and dark gray eyes; and a seventh year boy in Ravenclaw robes with warm brown skin, chocolate brown eyes, and dark brown hair. Sarai's face lit up. "Mom! Dad! Fiona! Sean!"
As Sarai's parents and children gathered around her, Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, watching them almost wistfully. She was glad she'd been able to do this for her niece, but observing the family reunion reminded her how alone she was. After giving them a few moments, Minerva cleared her throat. "Sarai, you may leave Hogwarts for the holidays if you wish."
"What about you, Minnie?" Artemis asked, drawing a glare from her younger sister. "You're family, too."
"I'm sorry, Temmi," Artemis glared at Minerva, "but I'm needed here."
Artemis studied Minerva for a few moments. "Can we speak alone for a moment?"
"Of course," Minerva nodded and gestured for Artemis to precede her from the staff room.
Once the door closed behind them, Artemis spoke. "Have you told him yet?"
"Told whom what?" Minerva asked, pretending ignorance.
Artemis snorted indelicately. "You _know_ who I'm referring to, Minnie."
"Why don't you enlighten me?" Minerva asked, folding her arms across her chest.
"Uncle Albus, of course," Artemis retorted. "You've been in love with him for decades. Don't think I haven't noticed."
Minerva glared. "Look, Temmi, let me handle this _my_ way. I get enough from Xiomara, Poppy, and Sylvia."
"Good," Artemis replied. Minerva sighed. "Look, I'm only asking because I love you and want you to be happy."
"I know," Minerva grudgingly admitted. "It's just...I've never seen anything from him to indicate that he might return my feelings and I don't want to risk it yet."
Artemis nodded. "I understand, Minnie, but sometimes you have to take that risk."
"I'll keep that in mind, Temmi." Artemis made a face and Minerva laughed. "If you insist on calling me 'Minnie', I'll call you 'Temmi'."
Artemis laughed. "Okay, okay, Minerva. You have a Happy Christmas, alright?"
"I certainly hope so," Minerva replied, hugging Artemis. Within a few minutes, Minerva was alone once more, with the memory of hugs from Michael, Sarai, Fiona, and Sean to warm her as she trekked through the cold corridors to her rooms.
* * *
Tracey loved to play in the snow. Now that the holidays had arrived, she could be found out on the grounds at all hours of the day, playing in the snow. Sometimes she played with the older students and sometimes she played with Xiomara and Stewart, who was slowly regaining his memory and his health under the watchful eye of his sister. Two or three days before Christmas, she was enjoying the snow by herself when a snowball unexpectedly hit her in one shoulder. She turned quickly to see Griffith standing several paces away, a broad grin on his face. "Hi, Tracey."
She smiled back, even as she began packing a snowball of her own. "Hi, Griffith."
They were soon engaged in an all-out snowball fight. They fired snowballs back and forth even as they dodged. Soon both were soaked and breathless with laughter, agreeing to call a truce. "You're good at this."
"Thanks," she puffed, flopping back into the snow and beginning to make a snow angel. "I didn't see much snow in America."
"Well that depends," he commented, watching her for a long moment. She was wearing a fawn-colored dress with red braid trim along the hem, collar, and edges of her sleeves. Over that she wore a black robe, also trimmed with red braid. A cloak the same fawn color as her dress trimmed with faux fur completed the ensemble. Her crimson gloves were soaked from throwing snowballs. "Which part of America did you live in?"
"Southern California," she replied, getting up carefully and turning to examine her handiwork.
"Ah, I see." He studied the snow angel she'd made. When he began brushing at her shoulders with his gloved hands, she stiffened. "Easy, you've got snow all over your back."
She nodded and stood still as he brushed the snow off her cloak. When he finished, she turned to face him. "Thank you, Griffith."
"You're welcome, Tracey," he answered with a gentle smile.
She held his gaze for a moment before looking away, wondering why her cheeks were warm. She groaned when she saw a familiar figure exit the castle. "Oh, no. Here comes 'Mara."
"Wanna get her?" Griffith asked, a mischievous look in his eyes.
Tracey grinned and began scooping up snow to make a snowball. Xiomara didn't stand a chance when two snowballs hit her, one on her shoulder, the other in her face.
* * *
When Tracey opened her door to Albus' knock on Christmas morning, he was surprised to see tear tracks on her cheeks. He swiftly entered her sitting room and closed the door behind himself. "My child, whatever is the matter?"
She sniffled and scrubbed at the tear tracks. "I miss Mom, Father."
He stared down at her, suddenly realizing just how much Tracey had to have left behind. The friends, other family, maybe even a boyfriend. "I'm sorry, Tracey, I forgot that you'd had a life before you dropped out of the sky."
She smiled in spite of the tears glittering behind her glasses. "It's alright, Father. I've been so busy that I forget sometimes, too." She sighed. "Christmas was always Mom's favorite holiday. I knew she was from England and she used to tell me how beautiful the snow was at Christmas time."
He smiled, feeling his heart wrench. "I understand, Tracey."
She studied him for a moment. "I'm not sure you do, Father."
"What?" He looked down at her, surprised.
"I was well on my way to getting a degree in English, Father," she explained quietly. "After I received it, I was going to get my credential so I could teach at the high school or middle school level. My life wasn't the greatest, but Mom loved me and Ryan, well, I wasn't _his_ daughter, but he never treated me differently from his own children. I had my cats, my books, I was happy." She turned away and walked over to look out the window, her back to him, but he heard the tears in her voice. "Then I somehow ended up here. After getting over the shock, I was delighted to be here. I was so busy with training and worrying about this stalker and teaching and marking that I haven't had time to miss that life, but," she shrugged helplessly, "I think it's finally caught up with me."
Albus walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I have something to tell you, Tracey. I meant to wait a little longer, but I think the time is right."
She turned enough to look up at him curiously. "What do you mean, Father?"
"I have contacts all over the world, including America, and I asked them to do some snooping around for me," he told her softly. "A few months ago, she told me that she'd found a couple named Sandra and Ryan Andrews living in southern California, with a thirteen-year-old daughter named Tracey Cooper, an eight-year-old daughter named Lynda, and a six-year-old son named Jeffrey. She said the most striking thing about the older daughter was that she's the spitting image of me, despite being a girl and smaller."
Tracey stared up at him, bright blue eyes wide. "You mean that I've been living in the Potterverse all this time?"
He nodded. "Yes, you have."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" she demanded, grabbing his hand and beginning to tow him towards the door. "Let's go to California!"
He planted his feet and waited for Tracey to turn back to him. "Tracey, think for a moment. What is today's date?"
She frowned, but grudgingly replied, "December 25, 1996."
"And what day did you disappear?" he asked patiently.
"July 4, 2003." She hung her head and stared at the floor. "In other words, I haven't disappeared yet. I'll have to wait seven years before I can see Mom again."
He nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."
She sighed and walked over to slump onto the couch in front of the fire. "Great."
He sat down beside her. "At least you have me now."
She smiled and curled up against her father. "And I'm glad for it, don't doubt it, but I still miss Mom."
"I understand, Tracey, but at least try to enjoy this Christmas," he told her.
"There is no try," she lectured him, a slight smile on her face. "It is either do or do not."
He chuckled. "Where is that from?"
"A Muggle movie called Star Wars," she informed him, her smile growing and a twinkle to match his appearing in her eyes once more. "Now, how about opening some presents?"
A/N2: I have question for all of you, my faithful readers: would anyone object if I sort of skimmed over the rest of the school year?