16. I Won't!

A/N: Don't worry about the fact that Tracey lashed out at Minerva; they'll work things out. It just might take awhile.

Minerva spoke with Albus about her conversation with Tracey. "We were getting along fine until I explained why I had asked to see her in the first place."

"Which was what, my dear?" Albus asked, the firelight glinting on his half- moon spectacles.

She sighed, watching the play of light and shadow on the wall. "I wanted to remind her to keep quiet about certain things."

"I see." Albus gazed thoughtfully into the fire. "What happened after you reminded her?"

Minerva shuddered slightly, remembering how the twinkle in Tracey's eyes had been extinguished in a single moment, the girl's face hardening. "She reminded me that she would be twelve in July and that I do not need to treat her like a child."

"But she is a child," Albus pointed out quietly.

Minerva nodded. "That is what I told her myself. She said that she had told Sandra over the winter holidays, because she knew her mother would wish to know, but told no one else."

"Did Tracey say anything else?" Albus asked, sounding thoughtful.

Minerva sighed. "Yes. She said that she had learned how to keep secrets from Sandra, who'd kept one from her own children for eleven years."

"The fact that she was from an entirely different time period," Albus commented.

Minerva nodded her agreement. "Exactly. I asked Tracey what her point was and she told me that she is not a baby: she is growing up. She wishes to be treated more like an adult and less like a child."

"This is interesting news," Albus stated, rising to look out the window.

Minerva watched him for a few moments. "I am not entirely sure it is I she is mad at."

Albus turned to look at his fiancée. "What do you mean, Minerva?"

"I mean, Albus, that she may actually be mad at you for some reason," Minerva explained, rising to join him by the window. "I have decided to treat Tracey more like an adult because that is how she wishes to be treated. After all," she turned to the window, "part of being an adult is being treated like one by other adults."

He nodded slowly, still thoughtful, as he slipped his arms around her waist. "I shall consider your advice, my dear."

"That is all I ask, my love." Minerva leaned back into his embrace and they gazed out the window together.

With the change of term came a change in Tracey. She tended to be quieter and moodier. She didn't lash out at her friends or Jestana, but she didn't smile very often, nor did she raise her hand to answer questions in class, particularly Transfiguration. Her friends asked her what was wrong, but she refused to tell them anything. Now that she'd had a chance to calm down, Tracey realized that Minerva was treating her like any other first year and not differently from her peers. Tracey regretted lashing out at the professor, but she had become accustomed to being treated as an adult because that was how Sandra and Ryan treated her. Being the oldest of three had caused her to mature more quickly than most students her age. She'd helped her mother with Lynda and Jeffery ever since they were little. She vividly remembered rocking Jeffrey to sleep when Sandra was trying to get Lynda to bed.

Tracey also had to contend with the fact that she looked younger than she actually was. Professor Flitwick understood her problem because he barely reached her shoulder. Dennis really didn't mind, but nothing really seemed to faze him anyway. Tracey became quite skilled at hiding what she was feeling behind a mask that revealed nothing of what she truly felt. Only people who knew her well learned how to read the signs she could not hide. One of those people was Minerva. True to what she had told her fiancé, she treated the girl as more of an adult and Tracey responded to this, happy that she'd gotten her point across. It was not unusual to find Tracey in the Head of Gryffindor's office, having a cup of tea with her. It was during one of these times that Minerva addressed Tracey's outburst before the start of term. "Miss Cooper, why exactly did you lash out?"

"I didn't mean to, Professor," Tracey replied, feeling bashful. "I used to think I had a pretty stable temper, but now I'm not so sure."

After a short silence, Minerva commented, "I did not ask for an apology, Lass. I asked why you lashed out?"

"Oh, right," Tracey matter-of-factly smacked her temple. "Well, a lot of things, really."

Minerva leaned forward slightly in her chair. "What sorts of things?"

"Um, being babied is one of them," Tracey admitted. "I also feel like Father is keeping things from me, because I'm so young."

Minerva sighed. "Being small for your age does not help, either."

"Don't I know it," Tracey made a face. "Lots of things would annoy me last term, but I didn't say anything. I just swallowed my anger and annoyance and all that. The way you reminded me to keep certain things secret, well, it hit a pretty raw nerve and set me off."

The professor sipped her tea in silence for a few moments. "So you were not really mad at me?"

"Nope," Tracey shook her head. "I'm really sorry I got on your case, Professor. You just said the wrong thing at the wrong time."

Teacher gazed at student for a long moment before replying. "I am glad to know you were not mad at me. Is there anyone in particular you are mad at? Or at least annoyed with to no small degree."

Tracey focused on draining her teacup and setting it aside. "I suppose so."

"Do not suppose, Tracey," Minerva's voice kept Tracey in her seat, though the girl refused to meet the sharp gaze. "That can lead to some wrong decisions."

Tracey sighed and closed her eyes. "Please don't make me say it, Professor."

"I must, Tracey." The girl jumped when the professor's hand enveloped hers. "If you do nothing for it, the anger, annoyance, and hurt will fester until it bursts out at a most inopportune time."

Tracey could feel her temper beginning to bubble and focused on controlling it, tamping it down. "I can't, Professor." She opened her eyes and they immediately locked with Minerva's dark green ones. "I can't lash out at him."

"It is Albus, is it not?" Minerva asked, holding onto Tracey's hands. "He is the true object of your ire?"

Closing her eyes against the tears that wanted to come, Tracey nodded. "Yes, he is."

"Do not take it out on others, Lass," Minerva advised the girl. "He could withstand the onslaught and it may help you both in the end."

Tracey looked at Minerva with anguished eyes. "I can't, Professor! He's the Headmaster of the school, the greatest wizard of our time, the only one You- Know-Who feared, and--and--"

"And your father," Minerva added what Tracey did not have the courage to say. The girl nodded, swallowing against the tears clogging her throat. "It would not be a pleasant experience for either of you, I am sure, but it is something that must be done. He is not aware that he has done anything to upset you. I can only guess. You must tell him yourself."

Tracey shook her head frantically. "Didn't you hear me, Professor? I can't!"

"Not can't, won't," Minerva clarified. "You won't until he is the one to trigger your temper."

Sighing, Tracey wiped at the tears that had managed to leak out. "For a woman who's never raised children, you certainly seem to know how our minds work."

"I have been teaching for over 38 years," Minerva pointed out, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and offering it to her future stepdaughter. "I certainly hope I have learned a few things from my students."

Tracey accepted the handkerchief and wiped her face with it. "I suppose the saying about teachers learning from their students is a true one?"

"Yes, indeed," Minerva confirmed with a nod and a quiet smile. "Are you feeling better?"

"A little," Tracey admitted, returning the handkerchief.

Minerva cleaned it with a muttered 'Scourgify' and tucked it into her pocket. "I will not push you, but keep in mind that Albus has been yelled at by more than one person."

"You included?" the girl asked, tongue in cheek.

She was rewarded with a soft laugh. "Yes, I admit that I have a formidable temper of my own. I keep it reigned in as much as I can, cannot always control it."

"So you yell at Father," Tracey deduced, a little awed.

Minerva nodded. "Yes, I yell at him."

"Why?" Curiosity piqued, Tracey gazed at her future stepmother intently.

Minerva released Tracey's hands with a soft sigh and rose to return to her own seat. "Because it is safe for me to do so."

"What do you mean?" asked Tracey, puzzled.

Dark green eyes gazed unseeingly into the fire. "He has been there for me ever since my schooldays, Lassie. When I was teased and mocked, he was there to offer a cup of tea and a lemon drop. All through the fight with Grindelwald, Albus was there to offer a shoulder for me to cry on. When my job at the Ministry annoyed me, I would go to Albus to complain. He was always there as I struggled through my first year of teaching. No matter what was going on, I knew I could count on him. Joy shared is doubled, Lass, but grief shared is halved."

"Wow." Tracey stared at the professor in awe.

A knock on the door surprised both and Minerva called, "Come in!"

"I am sorry to disturb you, Minerva, but--" Albus abruptly stopped speaking when he noticed who else was in the room. "Ah, Miss Cooper, hello."

Tracey's voice was quiet and calm as she set her teacup on the small table by her chair. "Hello, Professor, I was just about to leave."

"Do not forget what we discussed, Miss Cooper," Minerva reminded the girl.

Tracey nodded. "I won't, Professor." She paused and looked up at her father, holding his gaze for a moment. "Good evening, Headmaster."

"Good evening, Miss Cooper," Albus replied, his eyes twinkling slightly behind his half-moon spectacles.

Nodding slightly, Tracey left the office and headed up to Gryffindor Tower.