Warning! I ship Remus/Minerva. If you do not like this pairing/do not think it is plausible/do not think Remus is straight that is entirely up to you. Please do not flame me to tell me any of the above as I am already well aware that this story may not be to everyone's taste. Thank you.
Wedding Night
I'm standing at the window looking out over the scruffy, unkempt excuse for a square that is Grimmauld Place. This is my home for the forseeable future: this gloomy, filthy house left too long with dark creatures, ancient curses and a malevolent house elf as its only keepers. Even the window is covered in grime. I can hardly make out the indistinct shapes of muggles passing along the street at the far end of the square. They don't look this way and even if they did they wouldn't see me.
Somewhere out there daylight is fading and the orange lamps of London burst and splutter into life. Headlights on cars, neon signs, strip lights in offices and soft glow in houses.
I should be tense, worried, depressed, miserable – emotions I have experienced in plenty these past few weeks. But today they have vanished like Dementors before a powerful Patronus.
Today I feel only joy.
Because today is the day that Minerva finally returns to me.
For over a year we've been together, and never have we been parted for this long. I remember her as I last saw her: standing on the lawn at Hogwarts in robes of white satin, raven hair in an elegant twist. Her expression reflecting mine: joy tempered with sadness. Why did it have to be this way? Our wedding was hasty, rushed, driven by a sudden desire to set our love in stone and make it binding and complete. Unspoken fear whispered with the wind in the trees. Cedric Diggory's tragic, untimely death and the coming darkness it represented had devasted Hogwarts' staff and students, particularly Minerva, who had witnessed much of that day's terrible events firsthand and in the process had seen her whole world turn upside down. An innocent boy murdered. Another forced to watch. A trusted colleague revealed as a traitor of the worst possible kind… Hogwarts has always been considered as untouchable, a safe haven even through the wizarding world's most troubling times. Now it is no longer so.
Afterwards, after Sirius had brought me the news I'd been dreading, after Minerva had finally arrived home and cried in my arms long into the night, after it all: I finally asked her a question I should have asked her many months earlier. Somehow I'd fooled myself into thinking that I had plenty of time. But if we didn't do this now would we suddenly find it too late? To lose her now would be unbearable, unimaginable torture. And so I made her my wife that day, and so I became her husband.
Afterwards I left for Grimmauld Place to join the rest of the Order and she stayed at Hogwarts, its guardian in Dumbledore's absence. I know it pained her to see me go so soon but she bore it with stoicism as she always has. As she always does. She knows that true bravery shows not in ostentatious heroism but in facing the unpleasant and choosing not to run away but to stand tall and see things through. She is a true Gryffindor and I hope one day I learn to be as courageous as her. I've done my best here in her absence, trying to keep my spirit strong, trying to look after those around me. But it's only when she's not with me that I realise how much of my strength comes from her.
For three long, lonely weeks I've been waiting for her in London. I don't wear my wedding ring for fear of it causing comment. Though I have few friends outside of the Order there are plenty in London who know who I am. Or rather, what I am. The Ministry is moving away from the light and towards the shadows at an alarming rate. Once they preached tolerance and acceptance. But the memory of Voldemort's earlier reign has faded fast. Now predjudice – along with those who advocate it – is thriving. So to all but a select few my relationship with Minerva is history: a small flame that flared briefly then flickered out. A moment of misguided madness on Minerva's part, perhaps. Nothing worth worrying about now.
Only Dumbledore and Sirius know the truth. They know how desperately I miss her and they've done their best to keep me busy. After all, the Order has plenty of work to do. Several days I have visited Privet Drive and sweltered in the hot June sunshine as I did my best to watch over Harry. I've spent time shadowing witches and wizards whose dreadful past crimes are widely known, if never proven. I've helped with the Order's planning meetings, trying to calm things down when tempers fray and sharp words are spoken.
And in my few spare moments I've found comfort in my memories. Those early days at Hogwarts when we had no reason to believe that the future was anything but ours. When we had nothing more to fear than the gossip of nosy students. And that summer – the long months we spent together. A world away from the sweat and grime and cold desperation of London. I think of Minerva constantly. My wife. It doesn't seem possible that of all the men in the world she'd pick me. Our wedding photo is tucked in a drawer beside my bed. I look at it and remember.
And I'm thankful.
I could be thousands of miles away, safe and secure. Not knowing or caring about Voldemort's return and how it threatens us.
But I'd rather be here with her, and with my friends. Knowing that even if, god forbid, we fail then it won't be because we didn't try. And now she's coming back to me: yesterday Dumbledore announced he would be returning to Hogwarts for a while and that Minerva would be joining us in London. I thank Merlin it isn't full moon and I can spend this precious time with her. I've hardly been able to relax all day for worrying. What if she doesn't get here safely? What if she's had second thoughts? What if she's found someone else, someone better? Molly threw me out of the kitchen after I dropped two glasses in a row so now I have nothing to do but sit here in the drawing room and fret.
The doorbell rings and I half jump out of my seat. I have sharp ears – one of the few benefits of being a werewolf – and I hear immediately the footsteps overhead as the children run to see whom our latest visitor is. Several of the adults have grown frustrated by their presence, perhaps forgetting the sterling work Molly and Arthur have been doing for us, not the mention the curiosity that they, too, would have had in their youth. But these children are our future. They are the ones we will come to depend upon when we grow old and frail. They are the ones who will take our places if – god forbid - we don't live that long. At the very least they deserve our patience.
I wonder if-
And then I decide it's better not to think about it. Better just to be thankful for what I have. I take a deep breath and stand. I feel suddenly nervous: ridiculous, really. I pause to brush the dust from my clothing and make myself as presentable as possible but before I can reach the door I hear Molly's voice. In the short time it's taken me to compose myself she's silenced Mrs Black and opened the door: a remarkable achievement that speaks volumes for Molly's loathing of the portrait.
"Come in Professor," she says breathlessly. "I'm still getting the dinner ready, I'm afraid. But Remus was around a moment ago. I'm sure he'll entertain you."
If she only knew.
"I'm here," I say quietly, stepping out into the hallway.
Minerva stands on the doorstep, bags in hand. Despite her legendary self control she can't stop her slight intake of breath as finally we set eyes on each other once more. Greedily I drink in every detail of her appearance: hair as tightly pinned back as ever, muggle clothes immaculately pressed. It's as though I need to reassure myself that she's still there, that nothing has changed between us even though everything has changed around us. As she enters the hallway her usual staccato footsteps are muffled by the threadbare carpet. She places her bags down at the bottom of the stairs.
The dull glow of the chandelier glints eerily in the glass of her spectacles and for a second my heart jumps in my chest. This is what it does to you, this miserable place, but I try my best to ignore it and as she looks up at me time slows around us. I can see her face is slightly flushed and I know it's not from the exertion of her journey. We've waited a long time for this night, our first together as husband and wife. It seems like we've been gawping at each other for ages but luckily Molly hasn't noticed.
"There we are," she beams. "Dinner will be half an hour." And without a backward glance she bustles off downstairs.
I'm aware of the unseen eyes and ears above me and step backwards rather than forwards.
"How are you, Professor?" I say, politely indifferent.
She frowns in confusion and I silently gesture towards the staircase.
"Remus," she acknowledges with a nod of understanding. "Yourself?"
I smile.
"I'm sure you've had a long journey. Perhaps you would like to sit down?"
I gesture towards the living room and she puts her bags down and follows me silently across the threshold. Then, when she's safely inside, I gently but firmly close the door behind us and only then do I hold out my arms to her in greeting.
"Welcome to Grimmauld Place, Mrs Lupin."
She flings herself at me, all semblance of self control thrown to the wind as her mouth claims mine, taking my breath away with a simple kiss.
"Does that door lock?"
A muttered incantation takes care of the problem.
"It does now."
We collapse together into a tatty velvet armchair and my hand slides up her thigh only to discover that her seemingly sedate stockings end lacily at mid thigh.
"Oh Merlin, how I've missed you," she whispers.
She's straddling my knees and cupping my face with her hands, not caring that her hair is starting to fall loose or that her dress has ridden up almost to her waist. This is the woman I love. So intensely private that most would think she had no life beyond the classroom and the library. They don't know that when the door closes Professor McGonagall ceases to exist and Minerva comes alive, powerful and passionate. They only get the occasional glimpse of who she really is but I am privileged enough to know her all of the time. I have been permitted to share her beauty and her life and her bed.
I've missed her so much that now she's finally here I can barely breathe.
She settles herself more comfortably into my embrace, curling her legs up and nuzzling her head against my neck. The warmth of her skin against mine sets my nerves alight, the delicate scent of her perfume teases my senses. I thought I could picture them well enough alone but my faded daydreams were nothing compared to this vibrant, sensual reality. I give in to her kiss and feel the tension ease from my muscles as she claims my lips once more.
Her hand slips through my hair, teasing the strands between her elegant fingers.
"Do you think anyone will notice if we just sneak upstairs?" she asks with a coy smile.
"I think they might," I reply reluctantly. "The children are-"
"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! YOU GET DOWN HERE THIS MINUTE!"
Molly's ear-splitting shriek cuts sharply through the air despite the closed door. Moments later there's yet another cacophony of screeched insults from Mrs Black. The twins add their denials of innocence to her racket and the result is a deafening mess of noise that grates harshly on the eardrum.
"What on earth is that?"
"Don't ask," I mutter. "We'd better see what's happening."
Reluctantly she slides back, tugging her dress safely back down over her knees and smoothing the creases out as best she can.
"Blasted muggle clothes."
Out in the hallway Molly is furiously brandishing a fistful of what looks like pink string. The twins are standing red faced and solemn at the bottom of the staircase.
"The gap under the door wasn't big enough anyway," one of them mumbles.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" Molly shouts. "You wait until your father finds out about this!"
"Oh, Mum!"
"Don't you dare 'Oh, Mum' me. Now make yourselves useful and take Professor McGonagall's bags upstairs," she snaps. "You can put them in the guest bedroom next to mine and your father's."
Minerva is standing next to me, eyebrows raised in a manner that I recognise quite distinctly from my days as her colleague. I give her a wry smile but she doesn't notice.
Molly, however, has noticed our arrival and takes a deep breath as she turns to face us. Gone is the angry mother berating her disobedient children. Instead she smiles politely.
"I'm so sorry about that, Professor. Remus, would you be kind enough to give me a hand with dinner? We've quite a full house tonight and there's no sign of any of the others yet. But please try not to drop anything this time."
"Of course," I say politely, though I'd much rather be helping Minerva upstairs.
Minerva decides to go and change for dinner and Molly gives her directions to the guest bedroom. I try to avoid catching her eye. I know she won't be sleeping there tonight, not if either of us have anything to do with it. But for now, those thoughts will have to wait.
To be continued...