A/N: Ohh... I apologize for my lack of usual posts. Life has been throwing multiple curve balls in my direction and my writing muse has been taking a spring sabbatical. I assure you that none of my stories shall be abandoned and I ask your continued patience as I wait for a bit more inspiration to hit.
That said... enjoy this chapter! I do have the next several blocked out... they just need to be written and polished! :)
Thank you to all who have written reviews, provided feedback, and otherwise conveyed your appreciation! I always appreciate the encouragement!
-R
Hermione deliberately inserted herself into the middle of the group as the room collectively rose to turn in their essays. Though she had finished the task not even twenty minutes into their given work time, there was no reason to fall back upon her eager beaver habits from years past. Dealing with her peers would be challenging enough. She didn't need to earn their contempt along the way.
Caught in the throng of bodies filing toward the Headmistress' desk, Hermione kept her focus a bit lowered as everyone jostled into line, chatting amicably as focus turned from classwork to the day ahead. Thoughts suspended, she was content to follow the crowd when suddenly a stinging hex burned up the back of her thighs, immediately setting both her skin and temper on fire.
Of all the stupid, spineless- !
She stumbled briefly before casting a nonverbal counter-curse, earning a few derisive looks from those she bumped... only serving to make her anger boil more aggressively. Take a breath.
"Miss Granger, a word please."
Hermione placed her parchment on the growing stack of essays and gave a gracious nod toward the Headmistress who was standing behind her desk patiently. She stepped to one side and angled herself to face toward the departing group of students, but there were no triumphant or guilty-looking faces in the bunch.
Furious, Hermione cast a nonverbal detection spell to discern her attacker's wand-type. The subtle lights glowed just off her left wrist where the Headmistress wouldn't see it.
Redwood and unicorn hair.
This would have to be handled later.
It had been a foolish prank and Hermione was simultaneously incensed by the pettiness of the hex and the fact that the caster had been bold enough to have tried it beneath the Headmistress' nose. Either the person had some sort of personal vendetta against her of which she was unaware, or, it was some form of infantile posturing meant to take her down a notch and impress their peers.
Somehow, she knew that the move had Gryffindor arrogance written all over it.
Hermione bit back a growl.
Stupid.
"Miss Granger? Are you quite all right?"
The Headmistress was staring at her with a peculiar expression and Hermione pressed a hand over her robes and stepped closer to the witch's desk as the last students marched away.
"Yes, Headmistress. Forgive me, I was simply thinking ahead to the coming day," she replied smoothly, lips quirking into a small smile. Fortunately, it was easy to draw forth the simple action - the woman before her looked even more beautiful and intimidating than she had earlier in the morning, if such a thing were possible.
The witch gave a nod, though her reserved expression told Hermione that the explanation wasn't quite believed.
"I believe a congratulations are in order," the Headmistress said softly, organizing the stack of essays absently as her eyes flicked toward the last of the exiting students. "It seems the Board of Governors has approved your appointment to teach the first and second year Potions classes. Undoubtedly I shall receive the official order by mid-afternoon."
Elegant lips curved into a smile and Hermione nodded her acknowledgement, feeling a small leap of excitement and a bit of curiousity that the witch had elected to inform her before the decision had actually been made final. She wondered if the Headmistress was pleased by her new appointment or irritated by the fact that Hermione had not discussed her earlier conversation with Professor Slughorn.
Privately, Hermione was already experiencing regret at not having informed the Headmistress of the arrangement herself; she knew from past experience that the witched loathed being left out of the loop.
She felt another twinge of guilt.
Like you're continuing to do now...
"I see," Hermione replied slowly, trailing her fingertips along the edge of the familiar mahogany desk as she thought quickly, trying to salvage the situation as best she could. "In that case, may I ask a potentially impertinent question?"
A dark eyebrow rose.
"By all means."
"I assume you are in the midst of redrawing my timetable and I may have a few thoughts to contribute on that matter to ease your efforts. I imagine you might welcome the input," Hermione said boldly. Predictably the elder witch's lips thinned, but after a moment the emerald gaze turned thoughtful.
"An unorthodox request, however we seem to find ourselves in a rather unorthodox situation," the Headmistress replied, giving her a rare smile - one that reached the twinkling emerald eyes. The small action helped loosen the knot of tension in the pit of her stomach, and Hermione waited, knowing that the witch likely had more to say.
"I suppose in this circumstance I shall allow it… with the understanding that the final approval remains in my hands."
"Of course, Headmistress," Hermione replied, giving a gracious nod and stepping back politely as the taller woman moved to round the edge of the desk. Her senses prickled as her nose caught the very subtle blend of bergamot, birch leaf, sea salt, and pine resin. It was earthy sort of freshness, like the air following a summer rain and Hermione's lips parted unconsciously, wanting to draw in the delicious smell and take in more of it.
Momentarily distracted, she paused, turning slightly as she realized the elder witch fallen into stillness behind her, and was watching her with a rather opaque expression.
"Miss Granger…" Rose lips pressed together for a moment and Hermione watched as something akin to uncertainty passed acrossed the witch's chiseled features. The Headmistress wrapped a lithe arm around her leatherbound teaching portfolio.
"It was never my intention to pry into your personal matters, but now that our roles shall be intersecting upon the professional level in addition to the academic, I hope you would consider enlightening me as to the true motivations behind your return to us here at Hogwarts."
The witch's focus drifted away for a moment and dark lashes fluttered delicately before the Headmistress tilted her head and fixed Hermione with a direct gaze. Surprised, Hermione's breath hitched and she tensed slightly, feeling pinned by the unexpected intensity held within bright emerald eyes.
"Whatever the cause, I am sure we shall come to a solution."
The elder witch paused with lips parted slightly, before abruptly closing her mouth and turning away.
"We shall discuss these matters this evening in my office. Seven o'clock."
Despite the open-ended wording, Hermione knew that she was being given an unspoken command to 'tell all' and she inclined her head in understanding even as the fluttering of nervous butterflies surged uncomfortably. Though she had come to know the Headmistress on a more personal level in the months following the War, the witch still retained the ability to remain inscrutable in the least helpful of moments.
Her murmured, "Of course, Headmistress," was met with impassive yet accepting silence and Hermione took her cue and fell into step as the witch began moving toward the heavy doors at the end of the hall. She wasn't entirely sure if the woman was displeased, annoyed, or concerned with her situation, however it seemed clear that the Headmistress wanted answers and something had shifted to provoke her into pursuing the full story.
Hermione bit her lip and filtered through her thoughts over the last several days, trying to pinpoint what had prompted the elder witch's change in approach. She had hoped to reveal the Ministry's ultimatum once settled into her new situation, but it seemed the witch held other ideas.
Perhaps Kingsley had sent some sort of notice to the Headmistress directly? Or maybe he had received word of her new teaching appointment.
Hermione paused and pressed her lips together as the Headmistress pulled up short just outside of the Transfiguration classroom and fixed her with a thoughtful look. For a moment it seemed as though she wished to make a comment, but then the witch simply inclined her head in a clear gesture of dismissal.
Unsure of what to say, Hermione elected to rush off in the direction of the greenhouses, troubled and slightly unnerved at how quickly the Headmistress had shifted the dynamics of their fledgling reconnection. There had been none of the tangible warmth from Sunday and she tamped down the instinctive wave of apprehension and disappointment.
Stop it. You owe her an explanation and she hasn't yet said anything to indicate her disapproval...
Huffing under her breath, Hermione drew upon the sense of calm that had become a well-honed coping mechanism during her mastery.
Her private thoughts would have to wait until later.
"... Master Granger has elected to re-enroll in order to garner an additional forbearance from current penalties. For the moment, she remains beyond the reach of the Wizengamot's influence, though I must urge you to speak with her. Surely you must see that it is in her best interests to comply with the Ministry's recommendations?"
Minerva lifted a hand to stop the Minister's monologue as she rose slowly, lips tightly pressed together as she worked to contain her fury.
"Minister, I believe I have heard enough."
Kingsley simply blinked at her for a long moment before stepping back, clearly surprised by the anger that was undoubtedly simmering upon her features. The wizard opened his hands beseechingly.
"Minerva, you must understand… the Wizengamot is under considerable pressure-"
"I don't care, Kingsley," Minerva hissed, pressing her palms flat against the desktop, "How dare you speak to me of pressure! You and I both know that Hermione Granger sacrificed her childhood for the Ministry, all because your predecessors weren't willing to open their eyes to the reality of Voldemort's return! Now you're asking her to sacrifice her career and her happiness all so that the Wizarding community will embrace your misguided approach to our population crisis? It's ludicrous! I'm surprised she didn't hex you at the first opportunity!"
Kingsley's jaw worked for a long moment and Minerva lifted her hand again to forestall the protests as she pressed the other to the bridge of her nose. Of all people to be standing in opposition to, she would never have imagined Kingsley Shacklebolt to have taken up sides against her.
The wizard had been one of the most outspoken Order members tasked with the protection of the "Golden Trio" in the summer months following the Final Battle. Prior to becoming Minister, Kingsley had been vehemently opposed to any interactions with the press, insisting to anyone who would listen that her three Gryffindors were more than deserving their privacy.
And how far the righteous have fallen…
Minerva allowed her voice to take on an icy tone as she glared at her old friend.
"Hermione deserves more than to become a glittering figurehead the machinations of your new government, Kingsley. Whatever happened to wanting to protect our young ones from the cruelty and demands of the public eye?"
The accusation made the wizard shift uncomfortably, but Minerva ignored it along with the reproachful stare as she straightened her shoulders and took a step back.
"Now I know you never asked to inherit this situation… but for the gods' sake, Kingsley, wake up and take a look around you… you are committing our entire nation back to the ages prior the ISOS. Would you really have us crawl backward and take up the ancient ways?"
"Minerva, the Wizengamot's rulings will pass in a matter of weeks. We must make the best of a terrible situation. I assure you I am doing all I can to help rectify the situation as quickly and painlessly as possible," Kingsley replied tiredly, his words sounding hollow and heavy, as though he had repeated them many different times before. Which he likely has…
"Painless for whom?" Minerva spat. "It has been four years since the end of the War, Kingsley. What predictions can the Wizengamot possibly be making about the state of our nation after only four years?"
"Minerva… national morale is at an all-time low," Kingsley replied quietly. "Following the Final Battle, our population has declined by well over half and our economic resources have all been but decimated. While I realize that Hogwarts has yet to feel the brunt of the impact, I assure you that your own turn is coming. Already I suspect that you have noted the swift decline in available professors."
The wizard stroked his goatee for a moment before sniffing lightly.
"The number of Mastery-level wands within our nation is standing at fifteen percent of figures dated from ten years previous. It seems that the majority of your colleagues have all been killed in battle or have departed for foreign posts."
Minerva remained silent for a long moment, unwilling to acknowledge the Minister's dire assessment of their situation. The figures were more staggering than the majority of the public realized, but she knew they were sound.
Still… there are plenty of alternatives to taking a single witch as sacrifice for the public eye.
"That is why education is such a prudent investment of the Ministry's time," she replied calmly, willing herself to stay focused on the issue at hand even as they debated the national agenda.
Protect Hermione's future...
"Allow our younger generations to pursue their interests beyond the secondary level and increase support of national scholarships so that they might develop their magic and abilities to support our losses. Open our Floo's to international trade and scholarly exchange. We can still walk away from this situation by investing in our youngest wands and embracing our local allies. Demanding an early legacy is a surefire way to sow the seeds of resentment… surely you must see that?"
Kingsley sighed and shook his head even as Minerva felt a stab of frustration.
"Minerva, such large-scale campaigns would take time and resources that we simply do not have. What data do you have to suggest that higher education won't simply tempt our younger generations into finding more lucrative work beyond our borders?" he replied heavily, "The Wizengamot believes-"
"Oh, blast the entire Wizengamot!" Minerva snapped, finally reaching the end of her patience. She stood and waved one her arm open, feeling her cheeks flush in anger.
"Where was the Wizengamot when our countrymen were disappearing left and right? When Fudge's sanity grew more suspect by the minute and freedoms were being curtailed by their own colleagues? Where were they when Albus was cast from the Astronomy tower like some… some haphazard afterthought? Can you honestly tell me they felt sorry? Guilty? Where was the entire bloody Wizengamot when they when they allowed Death Eaters into these castle walls and my students were being tortured by that hideous woman? Where were they-"
"Minerva."
Kingsley's firm voice cut through her rising tirade and Minerva abruptly turned away, drawing a shaky breath as she attempted to tamp down the wave of flaming anger. A crackle of magic rippled along the surface of her skin and she lifted her chin, tamping down her feelings even as she crossed her arms.
Anger gave way to embarrassment at losing her temper, and a separate wave of frustration threatened to give way to tears.
Gods, pull it together, Min.
"I am doing the best that I can," Kingsley replied after a long moment, his voice surprisingly soft.
"Please trust me when I say that I am doing everything that I can to keep these referendums and penalties within the realm of reason," he continued. "I have taken little pleasure in these proceedings… however buying time for the general public requires sacrifices…"
Minerva scoffed lightly under her breath but refused to turn.
"Though it seems Master Granger has matters well in hand for the moment," Kingsley murmured. She thought she heard him sniff. "For the moment the Wizengamot cannot touch her and she is free from usual penalties until the time of her graduation. However, she has not endeared herself to anyone within the Ministry… and if you consider yourself a friend, you would do well to warn her."
Despite the calm tone of voice, Minerva could tell that the Minister was more than irked by the younger woman's decision to have re-enrolled at Hogwarts and it was no surprise to discover that the witch had rocked the Wizengamot as well.
Despite her lingering frustration, Minerva buried a quiet smile. The strategy had been unorthodox, but then… she would never have expected anything less than brilliance from the young woman.
At least for now, she was assured that Hermione would continue to remain safe within the castle walls. It would have to be enough until Minerva could sit down with the witch and ascertain what Hermione's true goals and motivations were. Surely abandoning her career abroad had been a hard blow for the young woman to stomach… and the notion drew forth an unexpected pang.
Even if she did not desire to return to Great Britain, you should be thankful for the opportunity to reconnect with her...
And to help.
Gods knew that Hermione deserved it.
And, well… whatever the young woman did desire, Minerva would be hellbent on seeing it through to fruition.
Turning over one shoulder, Minerva fixed her old friend with a raised eyebrow.
"Very well. I trust that you shall keep me appraised of any proceedings pertinent to Miss Granger's situation," she stated, "To say that I shall be vexed if the Wizengamot opens an individual case against her would be a grave understatement. She is both my student and future colleague. Do not make an enemy of Hogwarts."
"You have my word, Minerva."
Satisfied that her point had been made, Minerva nodded curtly and rearranged a few items upon her desktop absently. A glance at the clock suggested that she had little under an hour before she would be expected in the Great Hall for dinner.
And then you shall have to deal with the witch herself…
Somehow, the idea made her stomach flip-flop unpleasantly. Hermione had walked out of her life in Great Britain with nary a glance behind until now. Surely, this slight against her privacy would be met with displeasure; Minerva did not relish the thought of revealing her own investigations… however well-meaning they had been from the start.
She paused in her internal musings as Kingsley scrubbed his face with both hands and chuckled mirthlessly.
"Now then, with business out of the way, I suppose this would be a bad time for us to discuss a separate proposal? One of a more… personal nature? Master Granger is not the only one with a delinquent file."
Minerva blinked for a long moment, frowning as she absorbed the taller wizard's playfully coy expression and small half-smile. A few seconds passed and then she scoffed derisively at the obvious joke, eyes flashing as she rounded her desk.
"Really, Kingsley… I do realize that this entire situation is grating upon everyone's sanity, however your sense of humor could not be more ill-timed," she snapped, smoothing a hand over her hair absently. "I trust you'll forgive my lack of answer."
The Minister winced.
"Unfortunately, no…" he trailed off before fixing her with an apologetic expression, "Though I fear you may be right about my sense of timing, all barbs regarding humor aside. It seems my Ravenclaw practicality never did quite learn how to read a room."
Something about the sheepish expression seemed to register and Minerva blinked, one hand rising to her sternum as the Minister's words spiraled into a dawning sense of horror. The puzzle pieces suddenly clicked into place and she heard the portraits above begin to shuffle indiscriminately.
"Oh gods, you were serious," she breathed, her other hand rising to ghost over her open mouth as the Minister shrugged. "Oh Kingsley… are…? You can't… are you truly…"
She could barely say it.
"... are you truly proposing... marriage? To me?"
"As I said, there never was going to be a good time to ask, Minerva," Kingsley replied tiredly, taking off his kofia and rubbing the top of his head absently. "We both know the pace of political machinations… though I am not completely unaware of the irony here, seeing as I am to be... what's the phrase? Hoist upon my own petard, as it were?"
Minerva turned away slightly and fought for composure, unable to reconcile the Minister's wry tone and tired expression with the words falling from his lips.
Marriage! With… with… Kingsley!
Her customary sense of calm was suddenly nowhere to be found and Minerva pressed her eyes shut for a long moment, drawing in a deep breath.
To say that she felt entirely blindsided would have been a complete understatement.
How could you have missed this?
"Kingsley… I-" her mind raced, acutely aware that there was going to be no easy way to turn him down without revealing a key facet of her own identity. In fact, she was startled that he didn't already know.
Despite her best efforts, the rumors would never die out completely.
"I highly doubt we would be a compatible match," Minerva managed, drawing herself upwards and fixing her old friend with what she hoped was an austere expression.
Kingsley chuckled.
"Come now, Minerva… we are both highly intelligent, rational people who place the needs of our communities ahead of our own. Surely you see the benefits of working in concert? It would be a marriage steeped in mutual respect and understanding, which is more than I can say of the suitors who have been clamoring at the castle doors for the past four years..."
Minerva's nostrils flared and she set her jaw.
Well, that confirmed that the Ministry had indeed been keeping eyes upon her since the end of the War. The thought brought a small flare of indignant anger, but before she could address the slip, a dark eyebrow rose in playful challenge.
"Do you truly find me so undesirable, Minerva? "
Minerva flinched in response and attempted to cover the small movement by drawing her hands upward and fingering her wand. Unable to find an appropriate answer she turned and walked over to the windows, crossing her arms self-defensively as she gazed down toward the castle grounds.
"Kingsley… this isn't a matter of your suitability," she replied after a long moment. She shook her head quietly, trying to assemble her whirling thoughts.
Down below, a short autumn shower had misted much of the front lawn and even from the height of the Headmaster's tower, she could see the droplets glittering gently in the afternoon light. It was a clean and reassuring sight… almost too peaceful to match the internal battle raging within.
Minerva turned to lean one hip against the windowsill before gazing at her old friend.
"I am truly flattered by your offer, Kingsley, however… I simply cannot accept it. Despite your arguments, I fear that there are far too many factors at play that would make such a union ill-advised at best," she sighed softly, "You deserve better than to be trapped in a marriage of simple convenience and I cannot be what you require."
"Minerva, whatever your reservations, let them be known so that I may assuage you of them," Kingsley replied calmly, clearly ready to defend his proposal in earnest. The honest response elicited an immediate ripple of dismay, and Minerva exhaled slowly, suddenly afraid to reveal the truth.
"If it's the conflict of our positions, I daresay we are intelligent and mature enough to find ways around it. If it's the pressure of work, I also believe we can find a reasonable balance. If it is our age difference, well…" Kingsley's smile grew coy, "Surely you have enough energy for the both of us?"
Minerva flushed, holding up a feeble hand as she attempted to stave off the Minister's continued arguments. For whatever reason, the comment about age seemed to strike home… just not in the manner that her friend expected.
Gods, he's only a decade younger than you… how could you possibly have ever tried to reconcile four?
She pressed away the impulse to cringe in embarrassment.
"Kingsley-"
"I realize I am asking a great deal of you, Minerva… however you must see the potential?" Kingsley continued, seemingly oblivious to her rising agitation. He sighed heavily.
"Now, I know I may not be the husband you desire-"
"That has nothing to do with it," Minerva interrupted, fighting for composure as one hand threaded through her hair absently. She paced a small circuit in front of the window.
"I'm… not… that is to say…" she closed her eyes and tried again, "I don't… I'm not straight, Kingsley!"
The admission, despite being declared assertively, still brought a flush of warmth to her cheeks as Minerva lifted her chin defiantly and waited for a response. Unconsciously, she found her wand suddenly clutched at her side.
Dark eyes blinked at her for a long moment before Kingsley's shoulders slumped.
He sniffed softly and began to chuckle. Despite her utter humiliation, Minerva refused to look away, willing her reddened cheeks to return to normal.
"Me either."
Kingsley's reply was quiet, and he regarded her with a sad smile.
Minerva opened her mouth and then closed it.
"Then… what-?"
Moving forward, Kingsley propped one foot upon the chair opposite her desk and leaned upon it heavily. Still in shock, she could barely summon a flash of irritation at the casual gesture.
"You know as well as I, Minerva, that despite the general attitude of acceptance regarding sexual orientation, there are those of us in the public eye who must live our lives according to the demands of those we serve," he said tiredly, "A wizard in my position is expected to follow the old laws… I've been under considerable pressure to take a wife, produce an heir, and well…" he cracked a small smile as he glanced upwards, "I imagine I could do far worse than the Lion of Gryffindor."
A small chuckle. "Well… Lioness, I suppose."
Minerva returned to her desk on autopilot and sat heavily, feeling overwhelmed, embarrassed, and more than a little sense of deja vú as she recalled her conversation with Draco the day previous. Weren't you just discussing the nature of living in the public eye? Well there you go, Min…
The "Lion of Gryffindor."
Gods.
She hadn't heard that nickname for decades.
During the first War it had been her codename amongst Darker circles - an epithet meant to mock her loyalty to Albus and to cast doubt upon her sexual orientation.
Voldemort's conservative Muggle upbringing had betrayed him early on as he sought to sow the seeds of division and prejudice amongst the Wizarding community, and despite the wizard's outdated perspectives, the Death Eaters had absorbed them willingly - a number of them simply citing Pureblood traditions and the pressing need for future heirs as reasoning for discarding centuries of tolerance.
As a result, during the height of the first war, the country had been plastered with several unsavory caricatures made of her involving zoo animals, cages, and sexual threats. Predictably, Albus had derived a great deal of amusement from the entire campaign and made no secret of it, much to Minerva's overt irritation.
Following the War, the name had been re-appropriated by fellow Order members and turned into a badge of honor and respect… though Minerva had never admitted how provocative a phrase it had become for her - one colored by a mixture of shame and anger… with roots far deeper than anyone truly realized.
Returning to the present, Minerva found one hand pressed to the bridge of her nose as she struggled with her own thoughts and emotions. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked quietly and even the portraits above seemed to be holding their breath, as equally frozen as she while her mind struggled for a final answer.
Despite her empathy for her friend's situation - and her own if she were being entirely honest - she felt a startling flood of emotion rise up in her chest that had nothing to do with either of their revelations.
On the one hand, it would have been logical to accept the Minister's proposal.
It would solve both of their immediate problems and potentially offer an escape from the myopic scrutiny of the Wizengamot.
Offspring were an entirely different story… she wasn't exactly young, by any means, though Kingsley's proposal seemed to be entirely based upon business and she imagined that they could find away around that particular demand if the need arose.
They were both figureheads… not striving to become a real live couple, for Merlin's sake!
On the other hand, she firmly believed in the importance of Hogwarts' continued autonomy from the Ministry's meddling influences. Bedding the Minister himself, for lack of a better term - well… that did not bode well for the future of the school.
Lifting her gaze carefully, she found Kingsley waiting with open features - patience and understanding written across them as he watched her work through her thoughts.
Gods… he really is a good man. I doubt the nation even truly realizes…
Beneath her roiling mixture of disbelief, anger, residual shame and embarrassment, and some unnameable sense of cosmic irony, a strange vacuum had opened in her chest… and it took Minerva another long moment to realize that it was a deep pervasive sense of sadness.
For a brief moment, a series of images floated through her mind. Passing fantasies and illusions she had never truly considered until that very moment… and suddenly they were all evaporating into thin air.
It was the sadness of lost chances and opportunities… and Minerva sat forward carefully, burying her feelings as she folded her hands upon the desk. The gravity of the situation was not lost upon her.
How has it come to this?
Stomach roiling, Minerva heard the echo of her voice fall upon the silent office like a tinny reverberation through water. Muted, smudged… and she almost didn't believe that she had spoken the words at all.
Her answer was quiet and it hung between them with a powerful sense of finality.
Lifting her gaze, Minerva found Kingsley nodding quietly to himself, a sad smile playing around his features as he adjusted his kofia.
"Well…" Kingsley set his foot down and straightened, purple robes pulled tight across his broad chest as he offered her a casual salute. "It seems we may be seeing a great deal more of each other in the coming months… now that there is work to be done."
Minerva nodded gently.
"Don't think this changes anything," she said softly, a note of warning creeping into her tone.
To her surprise the Minister merely chuckled and shook his head as he fished a handful of Floo powder out of one pocket.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, sweeping backward and making his way toward the fireplace. Minerva watched as he stoked the flames a bit higher, feeling a strange sense of detachment as she watched the wizard's large frame against the backdrop of rippling light.
Her chest felt heavy, but despite the gamut of emotions that their unexpected conversation had just elicited, she couldn't summon any energy to review what had just occurred.
Just get through the rest of this day...
"As difficult as these times are, Minerva… I do hold out a bit of hope for your happiness," Kingsley called, turning to gaze at her over one shoulder with a beseeching gaze. She looked up and waited quietly.
"Somehow, these arrangements always have a way of working themselves out."
Minerva settled upon a silent nod of acknowledgement, palms pressed against the cool surface of her desktop as the flames suddenly glowed green.
As the Minister disappeared, she felt a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach as though the chair had suddenly been plucked out from beneath her.
What have I done?