Out of the Clear Blue Sky
Chapter Seventeen - Fighting and Fluff
A/N: I'm no good at action-type stuff, but I did my best with the battle. I'm better at fluff, so there's enough in here to rot your teeth! The Alastor/Poppy scene is dedicated to Thestral/Stephie, because it's 'her' ship. The Sev/Xio scene is dedicated to Filodea, because she specifically requested more of them. The Albus/Minerva fluff in general is dedicated to my fellow AD/MM-ers.
Remus Lupin jumped when a burst of flame appeared in the middle of the kitchen. A single golden feather floated to the table. He snatched it up and gasped when a series of images played across his vision. Rubbing his eyes when the images were gone, he rushed from the room. "Tonks! We need to get to Hogwarts! And fast!"
* * *
Griffith Hooch and Alastor Moody were looking through information that had been provided by Severus Snape when a burst of flame distracted them. Griffith was the one to grab the single golden feather. The same images that Remus had seen played across his vision and he looked immediately to his friend when they were done. "We need to get to Hogwarts, Alastor. Stewart, too."
Alastor nodded and immediately began gathering the papers scattered across the table. Griffith left the room in search of Stewart.
* * *
The four mascots stopped about halfway down the winding drive and spread out, waiting for Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The gates gave way and Voldemort led his Death Eaters onto the grounds. They paused when they saw the shimmering purple barrier and the four over-sized animals waiting for them. The red slit-pupiled eyes focused on the serpent and he hissed. The large serpent hissed back and Voldemort's head snapped back as if he'd been stung. He turned to his followers and issued his orders. The black-garbed figures obediently spread out to face the mascots. Voldemort raised one thin, pale arm and dropped it with a cry. The Death Eaters promptly began throwing curses at the closest mascot. The curses and hexes did little good, because the purple barrier would surge forward to prevent damage to the mascots. Voldemort called a cease-fire and gave the order to move forward.
The mascots slowly retreated from the Death Eaters, the purple barrier moving with them. When the Death Eaters were within firing range, the teachers began firing spells at them. Their spells passed harmlessly through the barrier, but, when the Death Eaters tried to retaliate, their spells bounced off the barrier and, more often than not, ricocheted back into their ranks. One Death Eater chose to fire at the lioness and was rewarded with a screech of pain. The barrier flickered. Other Death Eaters picked up on this fact and began concentrating on the four mascots once more. The barrier's flickering became more erratic and the staff members began firing more spells in earnest, doing their best to thin the ranks of the Death Eaters before the barrier disappeared completely.
When it finally did, the four mascots shrank until they were closer to the typical sizes of their species. The four of them held their ground as the Death Eaters plowed forward, firing hexes and curses at the teachers gathered in front of the stone steps. The lioness reared up and began attacking Death Eaters right and left, claws out and ripping, teeth bared. The eagle took flight and pecked at the Death Eaters' eyes and flapped her wings to blind them. The badger used her stubby claws and teeth to great effect and more than one Death Eater jumped in pain when the badger came their way. The serpent slithered in and amongst the Death Eaters' feet, sinking her fangs into flesh whenever she could. The poison in her fangs put the Death Eaters to sleep, effectively taking them out of the fight.
As the battle continued, the spell that had sustained eagle, badger, and serpent weakened, the four women in front of the oak doors struggling to maintain the spell for as long as they could. It wasn't long before the four witches collapsed: the eagle, badger, and serpent disappearing not long afterwards. The lioness remained, much to the surprise of the Death Eaters. She continued raging among them, often coming to the aid of a particularly beleaguered staff member. The staff huddled around the four unconscious women, protecting them as best they could. The lioness, her teeth bared in a nasty snarl, prowled in front of the knot of staff members. They were cornered now. Though many Death Eaters were scattered unconscious or dead on the front lawns, there were still quite a few ready and able to attack.
When all seemed lost, a trilling cry rang through the air, heralding the arrival of Fawkes, the phoenix. Close behind him came members of the Order, all on broomsticks. They landed and most didn't even bother dismounting before they started firing spells at the Death Eaters. Voldemort shouted a command and the Death Eaters melted away, leaving the staff members and the Order to pick up the pieces.
More than one person stared as the lioness that had fought so fiercely became none other than Tracey Cooper. She was pale with fatigue; dried blood and mud were smeared on her robes and face. Her hair was an untamed mane of auburn that almost reached her waist. She spat out several mouthfuls of blood, none of it hers, and wiped her mouth on the sleeve her robe with an expression of disgust. She managed to work her way through the crowd surrounding the four witches in front of the oak doors. Sinistra and Vector had eased Minerva into a fireman's carry and led the way into the castle; Alastor Moody, looking worried, was cradling Poppy against his chest and following close behind them; Severus Snape had elbowed his way to Xiomara's side and, scooping her up, followed Alastor; Stewart Pomfrey was in the process of scooping up the unconscious Sylvia to follow Severus.
"Let me help you," a quiet voice in Tracey's ear and an arm circling her waist startled her and she looked around at Griffith Hooch.
She sighed and leaned on him, letting him pull her arm across his shoulders. "Thanks, Griffith."
"You're welcome, Tracey," he replied as another arm circled her waist.
"Thanks, Sarai." She was stumbling with exhaustion now; not resisting as her other arm was pulled over the other witch's shoulders.
"You're welcome," the other witch answered cheerfully as the three of them climbed the front steps. "How long have you been an Animagus?"
"Since last night," Tracey mumbled, sighing as they entered the entrance hall. "I've been working on it for most of the year with Professor McGonagall."
"Where's Dumbledore?" Griffith asked as they started up the marble staircase. "I would have thought he'd be on the front lines."
"The hospital wing," Tracey explained tiredly. "He was in a particularly nasty duel last night with a madwoman who's been stalking him since last August. Poppy and Professor McGonagall were barely able to save him as it is."
When they reached the hospital wing, they found staff and Order members milling around aimlessly. Griffith and Sarai eased Tracey through the crowd and into the faculty wing, where Minerva, Poppy, Sylvia, and Xiomara were already resting in separate beds. Albus was talking with Alastor, Stewart, and Severus in quiet voices, his eyes frequently flicking towards Minerva. "Put me in the bed on the other side of Professor Dumbledore, please."
If Griffith and Sarai were confused by the request, they didn't show it. They helped Tracey to the bed and she laid back against the pillows with a sigh. Albus finished his conversation with the other three wizards and they left to herd the healthy people out of the faculty wing. Surprisingly, Minerva, Sylvia, Xiomara, and Poppy were the only unconscious victims of the attack. The 'walking wounded' were being tended to by those who'd come away unscathed. As Tracey slowly succumbed to sleep, she vaguely heard voices bidding farewell to the others in the faculty wing. Just as sleep overtook her, she felt a long, thin hand brush her hair from her face and a comfortingly familiar voice murmur, "Well done, Tracey. Well done."
* * *
Poppy was the first to wake. Being a mediwitch, she was able to unconsciously heal herself somewhat. When she woke, Alastor was sitting in the chair beside her bed, waiting patiently for her to wake up. He smiled when he saw that she was awake. "Good morning, Poppy."
"Good morning, Alastor," she murmured with a tired smile as she eased into a sitting position. A wave of Alastor's wand conjured two pillows on top of hers. "Thank you."
"No thanks are necessary," he replied, moving from the chair to the bed. "You gave us quite a scare for a few moments there."
She smiled wryly as he held her hand in both of his. "I imagine I did. We used a lot of power for that spell."
"What _was_ it?" he asked softly. "I've never heard of a spell like that."
She blushed slightly. "It's a spell Minerva, Sylvia, 'Mara, and I found when we were all fifth-year students. Each of us made a pendant to represent our House and met in the Room of Requirement wearing the colors of our House. When you think about it, it's more of a pact than a spell. All four of us need to be present for it to work properly and the form it takes depends on the situation. We can also use the pendants to summon each other if necessary."
"What other situations have you used this spell or pact in?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.
"Once, Minerva was picked on as a cat during the fight against Grindelwald and we had to invoke the pact to save her." Poppy squeezed his hand. "Though she was unconscious, it was almost as if she spoke the words in our heads."
He nodded, looking thoughtful. "Are you feeling alright?"
She nodded in return. "Just a little tired."
He smiled. "Maybe I can help with that."
Before she could ask what he meant, his mouth covered hers in a warm kiss.
* * *
Sylvia was the next to awake. When she did, it was to find Stewart Pomfrey dozing in the chair beside her bed. She studied him as he slept. Unlike her own brother, Steven, Stewart had never bullied her. He had accepted her presence as Poppy's friend and left it at that. Alastor had never objected to her, either. The two had been like brothers to her. They had teased her, of course, but they had never deliberately hurt her feelings. If they had by accident, they always apologized handsomely.
Being the shortest and plumpest of the group, she'd often found herself to be the butt of many a joke or prank. Her tormentors had quickly learned to wait for moments when she was alone, because Minerva, Poppy, and Xiomara would jump to her aid without a second thought and Alastor and Stewart would waste no time defending Sylvia as well.
Yet, she'd found herself developing a crush on Stewart. She knew from the start that it'd be hopeless because _he_ had a crush on Xiomara. Sylvia had gone on with her life, but Stewart's supposed 'death' had hit her hard. She'd mourned his passing for several months. His return had cheered her up immensely, though his skin and bones appearance had worried her. She'd chosen to be there for him, even though she was only a sister to him, because she couldn't do anything less than that.
As she watched, he stirred and stretched before opening his eyes to look at her. "Oh, good afternoon, Sylvia."
"Good afternoon, Stewart," she replied, returning his smile with a weak one of her own. "How long have I been out of it?"
"A couple days," he told her quietly, scooting his chair closer to the bed. "You had me worried for a few moments."
"Why?" she asked. "I'm just another sister to you."
He shrugged. "I'm not real sure, but seeing you unconscious at the top of the steps didn't really make my day."
"What about Poppy or Xiomara?" she pressed. "Minerva?"
"They were each in good hands, Sylvia," he answered, his voice gentle. "I didn't see anyone rushing to your aid, so I did."
She felt a lump rise in her throat. "Thank you, Stewart."
"You're welcome, Sylvia." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Before he could resume his seat, she grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him. When she released him, his eyes were wide and he reached up to touch his lips. "Er, what was that for?"
Feeling her face heat up, she explained softly, "I've been wanting to do that for years, but you never indicated that it would be welcome, so I didn't."
"Oh." she dropped her gaze to her knees; almost wishing she could take it back. He didn't give her time to gather her thoughts, as she felt the bed dip when he sat down beside her, and then tilted her face up to his. "How did that go again?"
Before she could say a word, his mouth had descended upon hers in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened into something more as she gave herself up to it.
* * *
Third to wake up was Xiomara and she found Severus beside her in the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her, fast asleep. Smiling, she stretched up slightly to kiss him. After only a few moments, the arms around her tightened and he deepened the kiss. "Severus, 'Mara, I suggest you save that for the bedroom."
Poppy's voice caused the couple to reluctantly break apart. "Hi, Sev."
"Good evening, Xio," he replied, kissing her forehead.
"How long have I been dead to the world?" she asked, snuggling against him.
"Almost three days," he told her, resting his chin on top of her head.
Her voice was worried when she asked her next question. "Have you been summoned?"
"I _was_ summoned prior to the attack on Hogwarts, but I'd not had a chance to tell anyone. If I had answered the summons, I would have found a way to fight for Hogwarts."
She nodded, pressing close to him. "Will Moldy-Voldy be angry with you for fighting against him?"
He shrugged. "Most likely, but I have dealt with his anger before."
She wrapped her arms around his chest tightly, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. "You're not alone, though. Remember that."
"I will, Xio," he assured her, kissing the top of her head. "I will."
* * *
Minerva was the last wake and it was with a splitting headache. She wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but knew the attempt would be unsuccessful. Without moving her head, she looked around. She was in the faculty ward of Hogwarts. Sitting on either side of her bed, Albus Dumbledore and Tracey Cooper were both fast asleep. While the young woman was curled up like a cat in her chair, Albus sat with her hand in both of his. She smiled to herself and squeezed the hands holding hers. Albus' head immediately jerked up and his eyes sought hers. He smiled when he saw that she was awake. "Hello, Minerva."
"Hello, Albus," she replied. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Three and a half days," he answered promptly, moving from the chair to perch on the bed beside her hip. "Poppy, Sylvia, and Xiomara have all regained consciousness already."
"Why am I always the last to regain consciousness?" she asked plaintively.
"Because you are the most powerful of the four of you," he explained, stroking the back of her hand with his long fingers. "The spell recognizes that and, thus, draws more from you than the other three."
Minerva nodded, but quickly stopped when it made her headache worse. "Did it work, though? Is He-With-The-Ridiculous-Name gone?"
"Yes, Professor," Tracey answered as Albus chuckled at Minerva's name for Voldemort, rising from her chair to perch on the other side of the bed. "Mainly because the Order arrived not long after you, Poppy, Sylvia, and 'Mara fell unconscious."
Minerva studied the younger witch for a moment. She was wearing turquoise blue robes over a pale cream dress, her aquamarine pendant circling her neck. Her auburn hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. The bright blue depths of the eyes behind the glasses, however, were haunted. Minerva stretched out her other hand to Tracey and the young woman took it. "You killed, didn't you?"
She dropped her gaze to the floor, biting her lip. "Yes, I did. I didn't have a choice."
"Tracey, look at me," Minerva prompted. Reluctantly, the bright blue eyes came up and met Minerva's dark green ones. "There is nothing more final than killing someone, but it was a matter of kill or be killed. You know that. You did what was needed to survive."
Tears appeared in her eyes and she blinked them away. "It's not that, Professor. You know, of course, that I chose to fight as a lioness. When I was actually fighting, though, I let the lioness take over. She tore the Death Eaters up using her claws. She snapped and bit." Tracey shuddered. "And she enjoyed it. She reveled in the rending of flesh, the crushing of bones, the taste of blood."
"And you, Tracey?" Minerva asked quietly, gazing steadily at the younger woman.
"And I was sickened by it," Tracey whispered, pulling away and walking over to stand by the window, unshed tears glittering in the eyes so like her father's. "I didn't want to kill. When I changed back, my mouth was full of blood. It wasn't mine, but I hated the taste of it."
"That's what makes you different, Tracey," Minerva told her softly. "You do not delight in killing as the Wild does. When you take your form, you have the choice of giving in to the lioness, or controlling her."
Tracey turned to look at the older woman. "I don't know if I _can_ control her, Professor. Her presence is so strong and vibrant." She raised haunted eyes to her mentor. "I don't know if I even _want_ to control her."
Albus had been listening quietly and now rose to gather his daughter to him in a comforting hug. "Tracey, you became an Animagus in very stressful circumstances. In a normal situation, Minerva would have been present to help you cope. She wasn't there, and you didn't know how to control the lioness. Before we could give you any training, you had to become the lioness again and let her have control because it was easier. Now Minerva and I can give you the training you need to control the lioness. We'll help you learn, Tracey." Tears silently rolled down his cheeks. "I give you my word."
Tracey clung to her father, her shoulders shaking. Albus slowly eased her over to sit on the bed beside Minerva and the Transfiguration professor added herself to the embrace, letting the young woman know she was there. It didn't take long for a small, slender hand to find one of Minerva's and entwine with it. They stayed that way for a long time.
* * *
The rest of the school year passed peacefully and Tracey watched from her rooms as the carriages, each drawn by a thestral, trundled down the long, winding drive. Her father and Minerva (she'd insisted upon Tracey calling her by her given name) had worked with Tracey on learning to control the lioness, but the young woman was still hesitant to call upon her. As she'd told them, the lioness was a wild and beautiful creature, with a strong spirit and regality that awed Tracey. As she'd told them, she wasn't sure if she _wanted_ to control the lioness. As she stood there, a knock on the door of her rooms startled. She turned from the window as she called, "Come in."
The door opened far enough for Griffith Hooch to poke his head around it. "Hi, Tracey."
"Hi, Griffith." She walked over to the sofa in front of the fireplace and sat down. "Why don't you have a seat?"
"Thank you." He entered and crossed the room and sat down at the other end of the sofa. "How are you doing?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"I've spoken with Minerva," he told her quietly. "She says you haven't been yourself."
Tracey sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap. "She's right, you know. I haven't been myself."
He moved closer, resting his arm along the back of the sofa. "Why? Why haven't you been yourself?"
She sighed again and looked into the smoldering embers in the fireplace. "The lioness."
She shivered when the tips of his fingers trailed along the curve of her cheek. "You're afraid of her, aren't you?"
Her eyes flashed as she turned her head to look at him. "I'm a Gryffindor, Griffith. I'm supposed to be brave."
"Being brave doesn't mean you're fearless, Tracey," his voice was soft and gentle, "it means you do something in spite of your fear."
She closed her eyes and turned her head away. "I can't even do that, Griffith."
When he gently turned her face to his, her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him. "Yes, you can, Tracey. I know it."
"How can you be sure?" she whispered, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn't dropped his hand.
"Because I know you," he murmured.
When his mouth covered hers in a gentle kiss, her eyes opened wide, and then fluttered closed as she responded to it. When he ended the kiss, her eyes opened languidly. "Wow."
He chuckled, reaching up to bury his free hand in her hair. "I've wanted to kiss you since last October."
"Are you serious?" she asked, surprised. He nodded. "I thought you were quite handsome from the moment we met."
He smiled and lowered his head to capture her lips in another kiss.
* * *
"I think I prefer this to playing chess," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Rather than scold him, she snuggled deeper into his embrace. Though it had been little more than a month since Minerva had told Albus of her feelings for him, they were quite comfortable with each other, having been friends for so long. "Mmm, I agree, Albus."
He chuckled softly and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I do worry about Tracey sometimes."
"I talked with Griffith earlier," she commented, stroking the back of the hand resting on her stomach. "He promised me he'd speak with Tracey."
He nodded. "Thank you, Minerva."
"You're welcome, Albus." She lifted his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.
Silence reigned for a long moment. "Minerva?"
"Mmm?" came the drowsy reply.
"Will you marry me?"
******Finis*****
A/N2: More dedications, because I didn't want to ruin it for you: the Stewart/Sylvia scene is dedicated to all the people out there who think they'll never have somebody. You never know. The Griffith/Tracey scene is dedicated to those of you who've come to like Griffith. Don't worry, there's an epilogue on the way!
Chapter Seventeen - Fighting and Fluff
A/N: I'm no good at action-type stuff, but I did my best with the battle. I'm better at fluff, so there's enough in here to rot your teeth! The Alastor/Poppy scene is dedicated to Thestral/Stephie, because it's 'her' ship. The Sev/Xio scene is dedicated to Filodea, because she specifically requested more of them. The Albus/Minerva fluff in general is dedicated to my fellow AD/MM-ers.
Remus Lupin jumped when a burst of flame appeared in the middle of the kitchen. A single golden feather floated to the table. He snatched it up and gasped when a series of images played across his vision. Rubbing his eyes when the images were gone, he rushed from the room. "Tonks! We need to get to Hogwarts! And fast!"
* * *
Griffith Hooch and Alastor Moody were looking through information that had been provided by Severus Snape when a burst of flame distracted them. Griffith was the one to grab the single golden feather. The same images that Remus had seen played across his vision and he looked immediately to his friend when they were done. "We need to get to Hogwarts, Alastor. Stewart, too."
Alastor nodded and immediately began gathering the papers scattered across the table. Griffith left the room in search of Stewart.
* * *
The four mascots stopped about halfway down the winding drive and spread out, waiting for Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The gates gave way and Voldemort led his Death Eaters onto the grounds. They paused when they saw the shimmering purple barrier and the four over-sized animals waiting for them. The red slit-pupiled eyes focused on the serpent and he hissed. The large serpent hissed back and Voldemort's head snapped back as if he'd been stung. He turned to his followers and issued his orders. The black-garbed figures obediently spread out to face the mascots. Voldemort raised one thin, pale arm and dropped it with a cry. The Death Eaters promptly began throwing curses at the closest mascot. The curses and hexes did little good, because the purple barrier would surge forward to prevent damage to the mascots. Voldemort called a cease-fire and gave the order to move forward.
The mascots slowly retreated from the Death Eaters, the purple barrier moving with them. When the Death Eaters were within firing range, the teachers began firing spells at them. Their spells passed harmlessly through the barrier, but, when the Death Eaters tried to retaliate, their spells bounced off the barrier and, more often than not, ricocheted back into their ranks. One Death Eater chose to fire at the lioness and was rewarded with a screech of pain. The barrier flickered. Other Death Eaters picked up on this fact and began concentrating on the four mascots once more. The barrier's flickering became more erratic and the staff members began firing more spells in earnest, doing their best to thin the ranks of the Death Eaters before the barrier disappeared completely.
When it finally did, the four mascots shrank until they were closer to the typical sizes of their species. The four of them held their ground as the Death Eaters plowed forward, firing hexes and curses at the teachers gathered in front of the stone steps. The lioness reared up and began attacking Death Eaters right and left, claws out and ripping, teeth bared. The eagle took flight and pecked at the Death Eaters' eyes and flapped her wings to blind them. The badger used her stubby claws and teeth to great effect and more than one Death Eater jumped in pain when the badger came their way. The serpent slithered in and amongst the Death Eaters' feet, sinking her fangs into flesh whenever she could. The poison in her fangs put the Death Eaters to sleep, effectively taking them out of the fight.
As the battle continued, the spell that had sustained eagle, badger, and serpent weakened, the four women in front of the oak doors struggling to maintain the spell for as long as they could. It wasn't long before the four witches collapsed: the eagle, badger, and serpent disappearing not long afterwards. The lioness remained, much to the surprise of the Death Eaters. She continued raging among them, often coming to the aid of a particularly beleaguered staff member. The staff huddled around the four unconscious women, protecting them as best they could. The lioness, her teeth bared in a nasty snarl, prowled in front of the knot of staff members. They were cornered now. Though many Death Eaters were scattered unconscious or dead on the front lawns, there were still quite a few ready and able to attack.
When all seemed lost, a trilling cry rang through the air, heralding the arrival of Fawkes, the phoenix. Close behind him came members of the Order, all on broomsticks. They landed and most didn't even bother dismounting before they started firing spells at the Death Eaters. Voldemort shouted a command and the Death Eaters melted away, leaving the staff members and the Order to pick up the pieces.
More than one person stared as the lioness that had fought so fiercely became none other than Tracey Cooper. She was pale with fatigue; dried blood and mud were smeared on her robes and face. Her hair was an untamed mane of auburn that almost reached her waist. She spat out several mouthfuls of blood, none of it hers, and wiped her mouth on the sleeve her robe with an expression of disgust. She managed to work her way through the crowd surrounding the four witches in front of the oak doors. Sinistra and Vector had eased Minerva into a fireman's carry and led the way into the castle; Alastor Moody, looking worried, was cradling Poppy against his chest and following close behind them; Severus Snape had elbowed his way to Xiomara's side and, scooping her up, followed Alastor; Stewart Pomfrey was in the process of scooping up the unconscious Sylvia to follow Severus.
"Let me help you," a quiet voice in Tracey's ear and an arm circling her waist startled her and she looked around at Griffith Hooch.
She sighed and leaned on him, letting him pull her arm across his shoulders. "Thanks, Griffith."
"You're welcome, Tracey," he replied as another arm circled her waist.
"Thanks, Sarai." She was stumbling with exhaustion now; not resisting as her other arm was pulled over the other witch's shoulders.
"You're welcome," the other witch answered cheerfully as the three of them climbed the front steps. "How long have you been an Animagus?"
"Since last night," Tracey mumbled, sighing as they entered the entrance hall. "I've been working on it for most of the year with Professor McGonagall."
"Where's Dumbledore?" Griffith asked as they started up the marble staircase. "I would have thought he'd be on the front lines."
"The hospital wing," Tracey explained tiredly. "He was in a particularly nasty duel last night with a madwoman who's been stalking him since last August. Poppy and Professor McGonagall were barely able to save him as it is."
When they reached the hospital wing, they found staff and Order members milling around aimlessly. Griffith and Sarai eased Tracey through the crowd and into the faculty wing, where Minerva, Poppy, Sylvia, and Xiomara were already resting in separate beds. Albus was talking with Alastor, Stewart, and Severus in quiet voices, his eyes frequently flicking towards Minerva. "Put me in the bed on the other side of Professor Dumbledore, please."
If Griffith and Sarai were confused by the request, they didn't show it. They helped Tracey to the bed and she laid back against the pillows with a sigh. Albus finished his conversation with the other three wizards and they left to herd the healthy people out of the faculty wing. Surprisingly, Minerva, Sylvia, Xiomara, and Poppy were the only unconscious victims of the attack. The 'walking wounded' were being tended to by those who'd come away unscathed. As Tracey slowly succumbed to sleep, she vaguely heard voices bidding farewell to the others in the faculty wing. Just as sleep overtook her, she felt a long, thin hand brush her hair from her face and a comfortingly familiar voice murmur, "Well done, Tracey. Well done."
* * *
Poppy was the first to wake. Being a mediwitch, she was able to unconsciously heal herself somewhat. When she woke, Alastor was sitting in the chair beside her bed, waiting patiently for her to wake up. He smiled when he saw that she was awake. "Good morning, Poppy."
"Good morning, Alastor," she murmured with a tired smile as she eased into a sitting position. A wave of Alastor's wand conjured two pillows on top of hers. "Thank you."
"No thanks are necessary," he replied, moving from the chair to the bed. "You gave us quite a scare for a few moments there."
She smiled wryly as he held her hand in both of his. "I imagine I did. We used a lot of power for that spell."
"What _was_ it?" he asked softly. "I've never heard of a spell like that."
She blushed slightly. "It's a spell Minerva, Sylvia, 'Mara, and I found when we were all fifth-year students. Each of us made a pendant to represent our House and met in the Room of Requirement wearing the colors of our House. When you think about it, it's more of a pact than a spell. All four of us need to be present for it to work properly and the form it takes depends on the situation. We can also use the pendants to summon each other if necessary."
"What other situations have you used this spell or pact in?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.
"Once, Minerva was picked on as a cat during the fight against Grindelwald and we had to invoke the pact to save her." Poppy squeezed his hand. "Though she was unconscious, it was almost as if she spoke the words in our heads."
He nodded, looking thoughtful. "Are you feeling alright?"
She nodded in return. "Just a little tired."
He smiled. "Maybe I can help with that."
Before she could ask what he meant, his mouth covered hers in a warm kiss.
* * *
Sylvia was the next to awake. When she did, it was to find Stewart Pomfrey dozing in the chair beside her bed. She studied him as he slept. Unlike her own brother, Steven, Stewart had never bullied her. He had accepted her presence as Poppy's friend and left it at that. Alastor had never objected to her, either. The two had been like brothers to her. They had teased her, of course, but they had never deliberately hurt her feelings. If they had by accident, they always apologized handsomely.
Being the shortest and plumpest of the group, she'd often found herself to be the butt of many a joke or prank. Her tormentors had quickly learned to wait for moments when she was alone, because Minerva, Poppy, and Xiomara would jump to her aid without a second thought and Alastor and Stewart would waste no time defending Sylvia as well.
Yet, she'd found herself developing a crush on Stewart. She knew from the start that it'd be hopeless because _he_ had a crush on Xiomara. Sylvia had gone on with her life, but Stewart's supposed 'death' had hit her hard. She'd mourned his passing for several months. His return had cheered her up immensely, though his skin and bones appearance had worried her. She'd chosen to be there for him, even though she was only a sister to him, because she couldn't do anything less than that.
As she watched, he stirred and stretched before opening his eyes to look at her. "Oh, good afternoon, Sylvia."
"Good afternoon, Stewart," she replied, returning his smile with a weak one of her own. "How long have I been out of it?"
"A couple days," he told her quietly, scooting his chair closer to the bed. "You had me worried for a few moments."
"Why?" she asked. "I'm just another sister to you."
He shrugged. "I'm not real sure, but seeing you unconscious at the top of the steps didn't really make my day."
"What about Poppy or Xiomara?" she pressed. "Minerva?"
"They were each in good hands, Sylvia," he answered, his voice gentle. "I didn't see anyone rushing to your aid, so I did."
She felt a lump rise in her throat. "Thank you, Stewart."
"You're welcome, Sylvia." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Before he could resume his seat, she grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him. When she released him, his eyes were wide and he reached up to touch his lips. "Er, what was that for?"
Feeling her face heat up, she explained softly, "I've been wanting to do that for years, but you never indicated that it would be welcome, so I didn't."
"Oh." she dropped her gaze to her knees; almost wishing she could take it back. He didn't give her time to gather her thoughts, as she felt the bed dip when he sat down beside her, and then tilted her face up to his. "How did that go again?"
Before she could say a word, his mouth had descended upon hers in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened into something more as she gave herself up to it.
* * *
Third to wake up was Xiomara and she found Severus beside her in the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her, fast asleep. Smiling, she stretched up slightly to kiss him. After only a few moments, the arms around her tightened and he deepened the kiss. "Severus, 'Mara, I suggest you save that for the bedroom."
Poppy's voice caused the couple to reluctantly break apart. "Hi, Sev."
"Good evening, Xio," he replied, kissing her forehead.
"How long have I been dead to the world?" she asked, snuggling against him.
"Almost three days," he told her, resting his chin on top of her head.
Her voice was worried when she asked her next question. "Have you been summoned?"
"I _was_ summoned prior to the attack on Hogwarts, but I'd not had a chance to tell anyone. If I had answered the summons, I would have found a way to fight for Hogwarts."
She nodded, pressing close to him. "Will Moldy-Voldy be angry with you for fighting against him?"
He shrugged. "Most likely, but I have dealt with his anger before."
She wrapped her arms around his chest tightly, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. "You're not alone, though. Remember that."
"I will, Xio," he assured her, kissing the top of her head. "I will."
* * *
Minerva was the last wake and it was with a splitting headache. She wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but knew the attempt would be unsuccessful. Without moving her head, she looked around. She was in the faculty ward of Hogwarts. Sitting on either side of her bed, Albus Dumbledore and Tracey Cooper were both fast asleep. While the young woman was curled up like a cat in her chair, Albus sat with her hand in both of his. She smiled to herself and squeezed the hands holding hers. Albus' head immediately jerked up and his eyes sought hers. He smiled when he saw that she was awake. "Hello, Minerva."
"Hello, Albus," she replied. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Three and a half days," he answered promptly, moving from the chair to perch on the bed beside her hip. "Poppy, Sylvia, and Xiomara have all regained consciousness already."
"Why am I always the last to regain consciousness?" she asked plaintively.
"Because you are the most powerful of the four of you," he explained, stroking the back of her hand with his long fingers. "The spell recognizes that and, thus, draws more from you than the other three."
Minerva nodded, but quickly stopped when it made her headache worse. "Did it work, though? Is He-With-The-Ridiculous-Name gone?"
"Yes, Professor," Tracey answered as Albus chuckled at Minerva's name for Voldemort, rising from her chair to perch on the other side of the bed. "Mainly because the Order arrived not long after you, Poppy, Sylvia, and 'Mara fell unconscious."
Minerva studied the younger witch for a moment. She was wearing turquoise blue robes over a pale cream dress, her aquamarine pendant circling her neck. Her auburn hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. The bright blue depths of the eyes behind the glasses, however, were haunted. Minerva stretched out her other hand to Tracey and the young woman took it. "You killed, didn't you?"
She dropped her gaze to the floor, biting her lip. "Yes, I did. I didn't have a choice."
"Tracey, look at me," Minerva prompted. Reluctantly, the bright blue eyes came up and met Minerva's dark green ones. "There is nothing more final than killing someone, but it was a matter of kill or be killed. You know that. You did what was needed to survive."
Tears appeared in her eyes and she blinked them away. "It's not that, Professor. You know, of course, that I chose to fight as a lioness. When I was actually fighting, though, I let the lioness take over. She tore the Death Eaters up using her claws. She snapped and bit." Tracey shuddered. "And she enjoyed it. She reveled in the rending of flesh, the crushing of bones, the taste of blood."
"And you, Tracey?" Minerva asked quietly, gazing steadily at the younger woman.
"And I was sickened by it," Tracey whispered, pulling away and walking over to stand by the window, unshed tears glittering in the eyes so like her father's. "I didn't want to kill. When I changed back, my mouth was full of blood. It wasn't mine, but I hated the taste of it."
"That's what makes you different, Tracey," Minerva told her softly. "You do not delight in killing as the Wild does. When you take your form, you have the choice of giving in to the lioness, or controlling her."
Tracey turned to look at the older woman. "I don't know if I _can_ control her, Professor. Her presence is so strong and vibrant." She raised haunted eyes to her mentor. "I don't know if I even _want_ to control her."
Albus had been listening quietly and now rose to gather his daughter to him in a comforting hug. "Tracey, you became an Animagus in very stressful circumstances. In a normal situation, Minerva would have been present to help you cope. She wasn't there, and you didn't know how to control the lioness. Before we could give you any training, you had to become the lioness again and let her have control because it was easier. Now Minerva and I can give you the training you need to control the lioness. We'll help you learn, Tracey." Tears silently rolled down his cheeks. "I give you my word."
Tracey clung to her father, her shoulders shaking. Albus slowly eased her over to sit on the bed beside Minerva and the Transfiguration professor added herself to the embrace, letting the young woman know she was there. It didn't take long for a small, slender hand to find one of Minerva's and entwine with it. They stayed that way for a long time.
* * *
The rest of the school year passed peacefully and Tracey watched from her rooms as the carriages, each drawn by a thestral, trundled down the long, winding drive. Her father and Minerva (she'd insisted upon Tracey calling her by her given name) had worked with Tracey on learning to control the lioness, but the young woman was still hesitant to call upon her. As she'd told them, the lioness was a wild and beautiful creature, with a strong spirit and regality that awed Tracey. As she'd told them, she wasn't sure if she _wanted_ to control the lioness. As she stood there, a knock on the door of her rooms startled. She turned from the window as she called, "Come in."
The door opened far enough for Griffith Hooch to poke his head around it. "Hi, Tracey."
"Hi, Griffith." She walked over to the sofa in front of the fireplace and sat down. "Why don't you have a seat?"
"Thank you." He entered and crossed the room and sat down at the other end of the sofa. "How are you doing?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"I've spoken with Minerva," he told her quietly. "She says you haven't been yourself."
Tracey sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap. "She's right, you know. I haven't been myself."
He moved closer, resting his arm along the back of the sofa. "Why? Why haven't you been yourself?"
She sighed again and looked into the smoldering embers in the fireplace. "The lioness."
She shivered when the tips of his fingers trailed along the curve of her cheek. "You're afraid of her, aren't you?"
Her eyes flashed as she turned her head to look at him. "I'm a Gryffindor, Griffith. I'm supposed to be brave."
"Being brave doesn't mean you're fearless, Tracey," his voice was soft and gentle, "it means you do something in spite of your fear."
She closed her eyes and turned her head away. "I can't even do that, Griffith."
When he gently turned her face to his, her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him. "Yes, you can, Tracey. I know it."
"How can you be sure?" she whispered, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn't dropped his hand.
"Because I know you," he murmured.
When his mouth covered hers in a gentle kiss, her eyes opened wide, and then fluttered closed as she responded to it. When he ended the kiss, her eyes opened languidly. "Wow."
He chuckled, reaching up to bury his free hand in her hair. "I've wanted to kiss you since last October."
"Are you serious?" she asked, surprised. He nodded. "I thought you were quite handsome from the moment we met."
He smiled and lowered his head to capture her lips in another kiss.
* * *
"I think I prefer this to playing chess," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Rather than scold him, she snuggled deeper into his embrace. Though it had been little more than a month since Minerva had told Albus of her feelings for him, they were quite comfortable with each other, having been friends for so long. "Mmm, I agree, Albus."
He chuckled softly and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I do worry about Tracey sometimes."
"I talked with Griffith earlier," she commented, stroking the back of the hand resting on her stomach. "He promised me he'd speak with Tracey."
He nodded. "Thank you, Minerva."
"You're welcome, Albus." She lifted his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.
Silence reigned for a long moment. "Minerva?"
"Mmm?" came the drowsy reply.
"Will you marry me?"
******Finis*****
A/N2: More dedications, because I didn't want to ruin it for you: the Stewart/Sylvia scene is dedicated to all the people out there who think they'll never have somebody. You never know. The Griffith/Tracey scene is dedicated to those of you who've come to like Griffith. Don't worry, there's an epilogue on the way!