Disclaimer: I don't, she does. She didn't, I did.
A/N: Okay. First I'd like to say a huge thank you to all those of you who reviewed. Wow! Thirty-four reviews on one chapter. I only hope this story can live up to your expectations.
This chapter took a lot longer to finish than I anticipated. For that I offer my sincerest apologies and the excuse that it's quite a long chapter. Enjoy
The last paragraph is especially dedicated to Happy Reader, though I think I liked her version better
Not In My Backyard!
Fit the Second: Settling In
Harry and the two professors remained silent until they had turned the corner, moving away from number four. Once they were out of sight and earshot, McGonagall pulled Harry into a brief one-armed hug. Of all the strange things that had happened today, Harry wondered if this short show of affection from the austere professor was not the most unexpected.
"How are you Harry?" she asked. Dumbeldore too fixed him with a questioning gaze. The younger wizard shrugged.
"'m fine." he muttered, non-commitally.
McGonagall shot him a look, but said nothing more. After a few minutes Harry broached the subject which was preoccupying him.
"Er...professors? Where are we going?"
"We told you Harry" It was Dumbledore who replied. "We have bought number twenty-six"
"But I thought... do you mean... is it for, y'know the Order?"
"Hush!" snapped McGonagall. "Wait until we're inside before you mention anything more, for heaven's sake!"
Reluctantly Harry bit back the hundred or so other questions he had. Yet it was a full ten minutes before they reached number twenty-six, at the far end of the street. It seemed to Harry that his teachers were walking painfully slowly, and he found he had to make a conscious effort to match his own pace to theirs.
When they reached number 26, a moving van stood outside. A young woman with greasy blonde hair and unusually muscular upper arms was unloading crates onto the tarmac of the drive.
"Wotcher, Harry!" she grinned as the three approached. Harry smiled back, recognising Tonks's characteristic greeting. Before he could say anything however, Mrs-number- 22 came by, walking her prize poodle. By the time the pair had passed, Tonks had finished unloading and was starting the van up to leave.
"See ya, Harry" She waved before pulling out of the drive. Harry watched her go, wincing occasionally as she swerved to avoid hitting a lamp- post or a telegraph pole.
"Well come along. Best get this stuff inside." said McGonagall. She moved to begin, but was stopped by Dumbledore's restraining arm on her shoulder.
"I believe Harry and I can handle this, Minerva" his voice was light, but authoritative. Harry could sense the tension between his two professors. McGonagall's lips were thin and her nostrils flared, but Dumbledore's face remained firm and impassive. Harry got the feeling they were replaying an old argument for which neither needed the other to speak aloud. When McGonagall finally broke the silence it was clear that the headmaster had won.
"Fine! I'll go and see if I can't do something about getting us some tea."
With that she swept into the house. Dumbledore rolled his eyes and cast Harry a theatrically exasperated look. Despite himself, Harry found himself smiling in return.
It took less time than he had anticipated for them to move the packing crates into the house. Not for the first time, Harry noticed that his headmaster was stronger than he appeared. Neither spoke much as they completed their task. Harry couldn't decide whether he was still angry at his mentor. The memories of last year still hurt, but mostly he just felt awkward.
As they dropped the last box down in the front hall, Dumbledore turned to him.
"You're shivering, Harry."
Harry noticed for the first time that his clothes were still damp from his walk in the rain.
"Er... yeah. Guess it's a bit cold"
Reaching into a crate, apparently at random, Dumbledore produced a fluffy purple towel.
"The bathroom is on the second floor. Third on the left, I believe"
"Couldn't you just..."
"I'm afraid not, dear boy. We cannot use magic here."
Harry knew better than to expect a more detailed explanation. The thought was not a pleasant one.
Coming back downstairs, Harry caught the tail end of an argument.
"Oh for heaven's sake, Albus! What does it matter? It's your own fault for not deciding on an alias."
Following the sound of McGonagall's voice, he found himself in a warm, but sparsely furnished kitchen. McGonagall sat on a stool at the built in counter, while Dumbledore paced before the fireplace. Dumbledore looked up as he walked in.
"Well, Minerva. If you are quite settled in, I shall leave you to it."
"Won't you stay for tea, Albus?"
"My dear lady, nothing would please me more. But, alas, I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. Farewell Harry. Adieu"
He bowed so low that his beard swept the floor, then with a little hop he stepped backward into the fireplace. And with that, he was gone in a swirl of green flame.
"Barmy old codger." McGonagall muttered affectionately.
Harry made no reply, but simply frowned at the spot where Dumbledore had stood. Sweeping past him, Professor McGonagall inspected the kettle which stood on the countertop. After a few moments scrutiny, she filled it, plugged it in and, after another minute's thought, flipped the switch. She gave a satisfied nod as the kettle began to boil.
"Well don't just stand about, Mr Potter. Go find some cups."
Doing as he was told, Harry began rooting through the boxes until he found one containing delf. He saw that McGonagall had found some sugar and tea leaves, but there was no milk.
"Professor McGonagall?" he asked, blowing on his tea to cool it. "Not to be rude or anything, but what are you doing here?"
"The house came up for sale." she said simply. "The Order felt it was too good an opportunity to miss"
"Will the Order be using it as their new headquarters now that..." he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. McGonagall's face softened.
"No, Harry. The order are still at Grimuald place. But Albus felt - we all felt that perhaps you would rather not go back there this summer."
Harry nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He angrily dashed the tears from his eyes as McGonagall busied herself about a plate of biscuits.
"Will the order be taking it in turns to spy on me?" he asked, more harshly than he meant.
"No" she replied. "Just me. Though I'm sure Miss Ganger, and perhaps even Mr Weasley could make a few discrete visits. They're quite anxious to see you, you know." Harry felt his heart lighten at the thought of seeing his best friends.
"So, why are you the one they sent here?" he asked without thinking. "Er, sorry. I meant -"
"Perhaps the Order thought my sunny disposition was most likely to win over your aunt and uncle" she suggested drily. Harry looked at her in disbelief. She sighed. "But more likely, Albus wants to give me the illusion of being helpful. I'm not exactly the most active member of the order at the moment"
With a pang of guilt Harry realised why Dumbledore had not allowed McGonagall to lift the crates; and why they had walked so slowly on their way over.
"How are you feeling, professor?" he asked, awkwardly.
"Fine." she said and then added: "Better than that Umbridge woman will be if I ever lay eyes on her again.
They sat in silence a few moments, Harry feeling more than a little uncomfortable in this unfamiliar situation. It was difficult to think of teachers as people outside of the classroom, he realised.
Suddenly he remembered something else.
"Professor? Why did you make the tea by hand? Dumbledore said not to use magic here, but I mean, the Decree against underage magic doesn't apply to you or him"
McGonagall laughed, a sound which caught Harry by surprise.
"No, I'll dare say it doesn't" She refilled his cup and passed him another biscuit before continuing.
"Truth be told, I know as much about it as you do Harry. Some sort of new protection spell of the headmaster's, I shouldn't wonder. He won't tell me anymore, but I gave up trying to get information out of Albus Dumbledore years ago. It's like getting facts from a centaur, if he has it in his mind not to tell you."
"Yeah" Harry replied. Something in his tone must have caught McGonagall's attention as she turned to look at him with a piercing gaze.
"Talk to him, Harry. You'll need him before this game has been played out." And there it was. Harry wanted to shout, to tell her that it wasn't up to him to sort things out. It was all Dumbledore's fault, why couldn't she see that? But she continued to look at him with that familiar glare which brooked no disagreement.
"Yes, professor" he replied.
With a curt nod, McGonagall took his cup and moved to the sink to wash it clean. Harry saw her instinctively reach for her wand, then with a sigh of frustration she strode out to the hall, returning with a dishcloth.
"How Muggles manage this everyday I'll never know"
"You're doing okay so far, Professor" Harry commented sincerely, thinking about how Mr Weasley might have tried to use the kettle. McGonagall flashed him a small smile
"Thank you Harry" Her smile vanished to be replaced with a small frown."This one, however" she said, gesturing towards the vacuum cleaner, "you're going to have to explain to me"
Later that night, Minerva McGonagall lay curled on the couch, reading. A flash of green light from the fireplace caught her attention. She looked up in surprise to see Albus standing in front of her.
"Professor Dumbledore!" She sat up and pulled her tartan dressing gown more closely about her slight frame. "Is something wrong?" He grinned at her, those blue eyes twinkling in that familiar way. Instead of replying he sat next to her and took the book from her unresisting fingers.
"Translinear Arithmancy and Cuspodia's Theorem? Really Tabby, sometimes you provide me with too much ammunition." Minerva snatched the book back and glared at her dearest friend.
"Did you come her for a reason or just for a spot of cat-baiting?"
"Actually, I came to make sure those Muggles weren't corrupting you. One never know's what to expect from their sort." She looked at him sceptically.
"Alright" he admitted. "Fred and George Weasley played a rather amusing trick on Moody which ended in young Ginny being transfigured into a very pretty squirrell. Entertaining as ever, of course, but it is a little difficult to hear oneself think over Molly's gentle reprimands. And then when Mrs Black awoke and wondered what all the fuss was about..."
"So you decided to escape"
"Yes"
"By coming here"
"Yes"
"To stay with me"
"Indeed." his eyes sparkled.
"In an unfurnished Muggle house.
"Yes"
"With only one bed"
"Ah."
Cleary such an objection had not occurred to him. He looked almost crestfallen. Despite herself, Minerva felt her heartbeat quicken. He wanted to stay with her. He was here to spend time with her.
She looked over at this man to whom she had, effectively, dedicated most of her life - in service and friendship. On impulse she blurted out a reply.
"Don't go Albus!... I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."
"I don't wish to intrude"
"You're not" she flashed him one of her very rare smiles. "In fact, I think I'd rather like the company."
Whether or not Albus Dumbledore had ever imagined sharing a bed with Minerva McGonagall was a secret he would keep to himself. However, if he had ever thought about it, it is quite certain he would not have imagined it like this.
"Are you sure you are quite comfortable, Minerva?" he asked, glancing over at her pillow.
Minerva's only response was to purr quietly, and wrap her tail more tightly about her body.
Sorry, I know that probably wasn't the ending you were hoping for. (Patience, patience) While we wait for me to finish chapter 3, why not review and tell me just how annoyed you are (