Moments Together: Blossoms on the Family Tree

Now that the Molly and Quentin had graduated and had begun new lives as adults, life for Albus and Minerva seemed to relax into unhurried simplicity. They taught their classes and played the roles of head administrators; they played chess each night and took the quiet time before the fire to speak of their children and new grandchildren. Being a grandmother was something that Minerva was still adjusting to. The title made her feel old, but she got over it quickly when Molly brought Bill and now little Charlie over to see them. She loved to watch from a distance as Albus played with his grandsons, seeing that even in his old age his inner child had not aged a day.

This night found Minerva and Albus exceptionally content. Albus couldn't seem to suppress a chuckle as he moved his chess pieces about the board. He glanced up at the wall of their joint study and smiled at the cherubic pictures of their children and the recently added portraits of Bill and Charlie. The youngest Weasley, baby Percy, was no more than three months old, but Molly and Arthur had yet to have a portrait made of the infant. The proud grandparents were well aware that their daughter was again expecting, but Albus had yet to hear what it is that his daughter was carrying. He secretly hoped it was a girl. He shifted his cerulean gaze to Minerva, his bride, whose beauty in his opinion had not faded with the fullness of her years but had grown. She still moved with the same nimble, feline grace that had swept him off his feet when they met. Her eyes shined with pride when she held her grandchildren and Albus was utterly moved to tears. He was so glad he had married her. She looked up from moving one of her knights, saw him looking at her and blushed as she smiled. Albus laughed aloud this time.

"My love, are you purring?" Albus chuckled.

"I got an owl from Molly and Arthur today, Albus," Minerva replied, waiting for Albus to make his next move.

"How are they faring?" Albus asked with a grin. Albus could feel the excitement in her voice as she replied.

"They're having twins, Albus! Twins!" Minerva burst, unable to keep her voice at a respectable, ladylike level. Albus dropped the chess piece and it cried out in pain as it hit the board with a hard click.

"T--twins?" Albus stammered. As he got over the shock, his eyes glinted in the firelight. Minerva reached across the side of the table and covered his hand with hers.

"Isn't it wonderful, Albus? Two more grandchildren!" Minerva cried. As uncharacteristic as it was for Minerva to get so excited, Albus was willing to disregard it tonight. Twins didn't run in either of their families, so to have this set in the family now meant that there would be more twins down the road in further generations of their ever-spreading family tree.

Albus was so preoccupied with the thought of his new grandchildren that he made a mistake in his game play and Minerva won easily.

"Albus Dumbledore I have not beaten you in three years!" Minerva teased.

"I had not been informed that I was to be the grandfather of twins in those three years, Minerva McGonagall!" he replied good naturedly. The two stood and stretched, extinguished the fire, and prepared for bed. The news had been an excellent way to end the day.

The proud grandparents crept carefully into their king-sized four poster bed and snuggled down into the warmth of the thick quilts and the softness of the opulent pillows. Albus rolled onto his side and pulled Minerva into his arms, kissing her neck and the shell-like contour of her ear. Softly, Minerva giggled. "That tickles!" she whispered happily.

"Anything to hear you laugh, my darling," Albus replied, hugging her tight.

"Oh, Albus, I love you," Minerva murmured as her eyelids drooped shut.

"I love you too, my dear. I always will," Albus whispered, kissing Minerva one more time before sleep claimed him as well.

While his sister was happily expecting her fourth and fifth children, Quentin remained a bachelor. Quentin had been rather leery of ending his bachelorhood because of the risks that came with being an Auror, not to mention that he rather enjoyed the single life. Recently, however, he'd grown restless and wasn't quite sure what to make of it. In an attempt to figure it out, he decided to speak with Alastor, who'd acted as a mentor to Quentin when the younger man had first become an Auror and was now someone Quentin could turn to when he didn't feel like he could speak with Albus.

At any rate, the two stopped in the Leaky Cauldron for a drink so the noise and activity would ensure privacy, though Quentin still cast an anti-Eavesdropping charm around their table. "What did you want to speak to me about, Quentin?"

"I think there's something wrong with me, Uncle Al," Quentin replied, his green eyes uncharacteristically serious. "I've always been single and liked it that way, but lately, I've felt restless."

Alastor's brown eyes sharpened. "In what ways?"

"I hate going home to my flat and stay out as late as possible, either by staying late at 'the office' or stopping at a pub," Quentin explained. "My flat just seems too empty, too quiet." Alastor considered this for a long moment before beginning to quietly laugh. Quentin grew indignant. "This isn't a prank we're discussing, Uncle Al."

Alastor held up a hand to forestall further blustering from his adopted nephew. "I apologize Quentin. You've described the very situation I found myself in after your father defeated Grindelwald."

"Shh." Quentin glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "No one's supposed to know who my father is."

Alastor nodded approvingly of the younger man's caution. "After Grindelwald had been defeated, I found myself at loose ends. I'd concentrated on the fight against him so much that I hadn't noticed how lonely I was. Then, I wasn't required to work late hours and realized that I hated going home to a quiet, empty flat every night. I hated sleeping in a big, cold bed at night. More than once, I fell asleep on my couch, fully-clothed instead of in my bed."

Quentin nodded, understanding what his mentor was saying. "So, what did you do?"

"I married your Aunt Poppy," Alastor stated simply.

Quentin stared at the older moment, surprised. As he digested this information, he mused, "Basically, you're saying I need to find someone to marry?"

"Someone who's fully aware of what you're being an Auror entails and who accepts that there may come a day when you won't come home." Alastor's face and voice were serious, brown eyes boring into Quentin's green ones. "Someone who will hold you and comfort you after some of the horrors you'll see, someone you can lean on."

Quentin was thoughtful, "Someone like Mum or Aunt Poppy?"

"Well, basically, yes," Alastor answered with a chuckle. "Marriage is a partnership, Quentin: sometimes it's an equal partnership, like your parents', sometimes it's not. It's up to you which one you'll have."

Quentin gave the older man a wry smile. "I'll have to find someone daft enough to marry me first."

"You'll find her, Quentin, trust me."

"Oy, McGonagall! Get your arse over here!" Quentin rolled his eyes. Lauren Strom was good at being an Auror, but her people skills could use some work. Her small size--the top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest--often caused her opponents to underestimate her, which gave her an advantage some of the men, especially taller ones like Quentin, would never have. Her curly red hair, light freckles, and hazel eyes framed by a pair of spectacles added to the impression that she was helpless, but she was actually one of the best duelists among the Aurors. "NOW, McGonagall!"

He meandered his way to her cubicle, lounging in the doorway. With an exaggerated yawn, he asked, "What's up, Storm?"

"Strom, git," Lauren growled, glaring at him. She hated when people got her last name wrong. While he waited for her to answer his question, Quentin looked her over, absently noting that she seemed her hair was a bit messy, her spectacles had slid to the end of her nose, and her face was a bit flushed. Her voice snapped him out of his musings, "Something personal's come up and I need you to cover for me, McGonagall."

He grinned roguishly. He'd always known that Lauren was attractive, but the change in her appearance today made her appear even more so and he decided to use the situation to his advantage, "Sure, but--" she'd relaxed a little, but had tensed once more "--only if you'll go out to dinner with me." As he'd spoken, he'd closed the distance between them until he was deliberately invading her personal space. She looked up at him for a moment, smiled, and then poured her cup of hot tea all over his chest, causing him to step back and yank off his shirt before he could be permanently injured. "Bloody hell, woman! What are you trying to do, kill me?"

When no answer was forthcoming, he looked up from casting a cleaning charm on his shirt to see Lauren's hazel eyes riveted to his now-bare chest. Smirking, he reached out and tipped her chin up so her eyes met him. "Tonight? Six?" Slowly, she nodded, not taking her eyes from his. Grinning, he kissed her lightly. "Go ahead and take care of your personal business. I'll cover for you."

Without a word, Lauren grabbed her cloak and left. Chuckling, Quentin put his shirt back on and sauntered to his own cubicle. He was feeling better than he had in weeks. Maybe Alastor's advice had some merit to it.

That date led to a change in Quentin and Lauren's relationship on the whole. They still tended to argue, but there was a playful, bantering tone to it. Now that they weren't at each other's throats, they proved to work well together, their strengths and weaknesses complimenting each other. Even before they'd gotten past their differences, they'd had to work together occasionally, although their tendency to snipe and snarl at each other had led to those occasions being few and far between. More and more often, Quentin and Lauren were partnered together and there were times when they had to share body heat or catch hypothermia.

In a way, the missions they went on together served as their courtship. With the increasing danger from Voldemort, they spent most of their time out in the field, or doing research. During the long periods of boredom out in the field, they talked to pass the time. This increased their closeness and created a bond between them that would prove very useful as Voldemort's reign dragged on.

One cold night, they were tracking the movements of a possible Voldemort supporter and enjoying each other's body heat. "Quentin?"

"Yeah, Lauren?" he responded, his eyes on the house they were watching.

She shifted and he became very aware of her body beside his. "Why in the world did you ask me out in the first place?" Surprised by her question, he glanced down at her. "I mean, we never really got along, there was no reason you could expect me to say yes to going out with you."

"Truth be told, I'm not entirely certain what it was, but when I looked at you that day, you were a completely different person. My knees went to jelly and if you hadn't poured that tea on me..." Quentin replied, pausing as Lauren winced, remembering the brash action, "I might have fainted dead away. I'd never seen anyone so all together beautiful in my life."

Lauren's face turned a rather fetching shade of red, causing Quentin to laugh quietly. Rolling her eyes and pretending to be offended, Lauren turned back to the house they were watching. "You sure didn't act like your knees were jelly or about to faint."

"It was all an act," he assured her, kissing her cheek. "I had to do something to hide it. Would have ruined my reputation, you know."

Just as she raised her hand to lightly smack his shoulder, activity at the house they'd been watching drew their attention. In less than a second, they were all business.

As with any other couple, Quentin and Lauren had to meet each other's parents. Lauren's parents were a little skeptical at first, given how they two had been at each other at first. After ten minutes of watching the two interact, though, their worries were laid to rest and, by the end of the visit, they decided he would make a fine husband for Lauren.

Then it was time for Lauren to meet Quentin's parents. She was understandably nervous about it. After Quentin knocked on the door, Lauren smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of the deep green robes she wore, patted her hair to make sure it was fine, adjusted her spectacles on her nose, and tapped her foot. Then Quentin caught her hand in his, drawing her attention to him. Realizing he'd been watching her, she laughed self-consciously. "I'm sorry, Quentin, am I annoying you?"

"Not at all," he replied, raising her hand to his lips. "You don't need to be worried. They'll love you, I'm sure of it."

Lauren opened her mouth to retort, but the door opened at the same time and they turned to see Minerva McGonagall in deep burgundy robes watching them. Her black hair was pulled back into a French twist and there was a bemused smile on her face. "Hello, Quentin."

"Hi, Mum," Quentin replied, stepping forward to hug her warmly. Lauren's jaw dropped. Minerva McGonagall was Quentin's mother? She'd thought the Transfiguration professor was his aunt or something. "Lauren?"

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lauren stepped up beside Quentin. "Hello, Professor--"

"No, Lauren, I'm not your professor anymore." Minerva's voice was softer, warmer, with a stronger burr to it. "Please call me Minerva."

Lauren nodded, but couldn't seem to find her voice now, feeling a little off-balance. "Lauren?" She looked at Quentin. "I can guarantee that Mum won't take house points or put you in detention."

"If I remember correctly, you were the one who always lost house points and got put in detention," Lauren retorted archly, relieved that Quentin had understood why she was nervous.

He laughed as they entered the homey cottage, where a house-elf took their cloaks. "Touché." He then looked at Minerva. "Mum, where's Dad?"

"He'll be down in a minute, Quentin," Minerva replied as she gestured for the younger couple to have a seat. "He wanted to finish up some paperwork."

A voice from the doorway drew the three around and Lauren's jaw dropped again. "No, I'm here now, my dear."

"Dad!" Quentin stood and strode over to embrace none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

What am I getting myself into? I can't have these two for in-laws! Lauren was beginning to panic when a touch on her shoulder brought her attention around to Minerva. Quietly, the older woman told her, "We're human beings, Lauren. Yes, Albus is powerful. Yes, I am a professor at Hogwarts. Underneath, however, we are just as human as you and Quentin."

"Thank you, Minerva," Lauren answered with a nod of understanding, feeling the panic begin to fade.

Minerva nodded back just as Quentin and Albus came over. "No kiss from my wife?"

"A kiss is exactly why you were late to begin with, Albus," Minerva countered, though she was smiling as she stepped into her husband's embrace.

As Lauren watched, she relaxed even further. They reminded her of her own parents. Quentin's voice in her ear startled her. "Amazing how mushy and disgusting they can get, isn't it?"

Lauren tried desperately to hold back her giggles, but she couldn't help it. The way he said it and the look on his face was just too funny. "Quentin, what are we going to do with you?"

"Feed me, shelter me, and love me?" Quentin offered hopefully.

"Seventeen years of that is quite enough for us," Albus told his son. "You'll have to find someone else to do that." Lauren was almost sure she heard Quentin mutter something about having already found someone, but Albus was speaking to her now! "Lauren Strom, it's a pleasure to see you again."

She extended her hand, expecting him to shake it, but Albus kissed the back instead. "Thank you, er, what should I call you?"

"Albus will be fine," he assured her, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Shall we go eat?"