Chapter Six

Hermione rolled over, left hand rubbing absently across her eyes to rub the sleep away, the glint of her silver wedding band catching in her vision and making her smile contentedly. As of yesterday, she was officially a married woman. For the rest of her life, feasibly, she'd no longer be Granger, or even Baker; she was henceforth Hermione Black. Who the bloody hell would have thought? Hermione absently thought about her Harry - Alpha Harry, that was - and wondered what he'd think if he were to ever learn that she'd fallen in love with and then off and married his Godfather. She liked to think that he'd have approved of the match, and thought well of her ability to turn the overgrown boy into an actual man, and that he'd have been pleased to know that the man he'd trusted to look after him was now looking after the girl he'd regarded as a sister.

The wedding had gone off without a hitch, and was a testament of Lycoris, Cedrella, and Dorea's planning abilities. The three of them along with Genia Flitwick had stood by Hermione's side as bridesmaids, opposite Phineas, who was the brother Sirius seemed to get on best with, Arcturus, and Regulus, and for his fourth groomsmen, Charlus had stood opposite his wife. Sirius had taken a page out of her book and decided that if he couldn't have James by his side on his wedding day, that didn't mean he couldn't still have a Potter. In truth, while Charlus and Dorea Potter were still more or less strangers in Hermione's eyes, as she was only just getting to know them, Sirius had lived with the couple for several years in his youth and knew them quite well from his perspective, although he admitted that the relationship was clearly different now given the pair saw him as an authority figure in their lives, instead of the reverse.

Hermione would have been hard pressed to think of a Pureblood family who had not been in attendance yesterday. Most of them she only knew by reputation, and the ones she did know on a more personal level she only knew by way of their descendants. There were representatives from the Bones family, for example, and while she'd known Susan in school and been familiar with Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in their time and reality, here and now Hector Bones had only recently married Honoria Diggory, and they'd not yet started having children. If Hermione's memory served, Amelia had been in Sirius' year at Hogwarts, and Susan's father had been several years older. She also vaguely recalled there being another boy born to Hector and Honoria at some point, as she remembered Susan mentioning something about her Uncle Edgar, who'd died during the war.

Not this time, Hermione vowed.

The Malfoys had been there as well, of course. Abraxas and Laelia Malfoy had come in the company of their three month old son, Lucius. To say the least, it had boggled Hermione's mind more than a little as she'd held the infant during the reception to allow poor Laelia a chance to eat. Merlin knew Abraxas wasn't going to offer. Had she and Sirius come back in time directly and not detoured to another reality where Lucius wasn't a complete and utter prat, she might not have been able to stomach it, no matter how cute he was as a baby, but as things stood it was a reminder, among many yesterday, of the things she meant to fix. Abraxas, by all accounts, had been a clear supporter of Grindelwald and she didn't imagine there was much she could do to go about redeeming him, but Laelia seemed sweet enough and Hermione hoped that if she formed a relationship with Madam Malfoy, she could help to minimize how much Lucius grew up emulating his father. That said, she wasn't certain what to do about Lucius' proclivities. On one hand she'd seen first hand what a good thing Lucius and Arthur had together, and didn't want to begrudge either of them a chance to explore that without hindrance. On the other hand, if they came together without barriers in this timeline, then Draco would never be born, nor would Ron and his numerous siblings. Hermione wasn't sure she was prepared to allow that to come to pass, especially not where the Weasleys were concerned. She couldn't imagine a world without Ron Weasley in it, or Fred and George, or Ginny. She couldn't imagine Bill and Fleur not coming together, and she couldn't imagine Charlie not growing up and being obsessed with Dragons, or in another life, working for Doctor Magnus.

Begrudgingly, she admitted she could imagine doing without Percy, although she sort of figured that it was all or nothing when it came to the Weasleys. It wasn't her fault he was such a prat.

"Babe?" Sirius grumbled. "When did you wake up?"

"Just a few minutes ago," she whispered, snaking her hand under the covers and running it over his bare chest, remembering making love to him the night before.

"Last night was incredible," he said, grinning as he pulled her close. "I'd heard that after the bonding it amplifies, well, things, but I never imagined…"

"I thought that was a myth, to be honest," she confessed.

"You were mythstaken," he joked.

"Merlin!" she groaned. "You're an idiot, Sirius Black."

"And you are sexy, Hermione Black," he countered.

Lips met a moment later, gently at first and then building in tempo and force. She could feel their magic entwining as Sirius moved on top of her, gently sliding inside of her and beginning to move. Before yesterday, she'd always felt the need to verbally direct him when they made love in order to maximize her pleasure - not that he was unskilled in bed - but now she could hardly even think to get a word out before he was already moving to do exactly as she wanted, seeming to know intuitively. Likewise, something inside of her seemed to understand what he needed from her to get the most of their coupling, and as her fingers raked down his back and he let out a happy groan, it all but proved her point.

"You're perfect," he whispered, nipping at her neck. "Mine, 'Mione. All mine."

"That's it, love," she choked out, feeling herself dancing on the edge. "Almost…"

Hermione couldn't help but think back on the difference between their sex life when they first got together, and now. The first few months together had been full of pushing one another to the limit and exploring each other's likes and dislikes, as if each of them had something to prove about their respective experience and sexual prowess. Yes, there had been an affection in the early days that had eventually led to love, but it had been carnal then. Then, sex and love had been two separate entities for them, and now - this - this wasn't sex anymore. It was making love. It was a pleasurable expression of a feeling shared between them, and while there were certainly times that they reverted back to the carnal side of things and enjoyed a more adventurous sexual encounter, mostly these days sex was about reaffirming their connection, and Hermione wasn't even sorry about it. In many ways, it made her reevaluate her stance on casual sex.

She felt the bond - her and Sirius' now tangled magic - liven as she crashed over the edge, and he directly followed. Sirius lay on top of her for a minute before rolling off, still panting, a grin plastered on his face. "I love being married," he laughed. "I finally get why James was making such a big bloody deal about it."

"To wind you up?" she guessed.

"Probably that too," he admitted with a smirk. "Ugh, I guess we should get up. You want to shower first or should I? I'd suggest showering together, but you don't seem to care for doing that."

"Not when you take showers in ice cold water," she snipped. "You go ahead."

"I'm so sorry I can't deal with bathing in boiling water," he snipped back lightly, kissing her before he got out of bed. "I won't be long."

"I don't like the bloody cold," she muttered to the now empty room, thinking that it was one more thing she and Melok had in common. Goblins, as a rule, didn't care for the cold. They weren't technically cold blooded, but their anatomy was genetically predisposed toward an intolerance to cold, and a deep preference for climates most humans found ridiculously hot. There was a reason Goblins had no issue working with Dragons.

Hermione curled up in bed, half guiltily thinking of her relationship with Melok, and hating herself for doing so mere minutes after having made love to her husband. That said, had someone asked her yesterday to compare the affection she felt for Sirius in the early days of their relationship to the affection she felt for Melok now, she'd have struggled to rationalize away her growing feelings for Melok, and have feared there was no stopping them. The bond though, which had activated during her and Sirius' wedding ceremony, had fundamentally altered things. As her relationship with Melok currently stood, there was no comparison between her feelings for Sirius and her feelings for Melok. She wouldn't deny an attraction to him, but it wasn't something worth acting on, or pursuing in any manner other than friendship.

She only wished she was convinced that status quo would last, because while her relationship with Sirius was tried and true and a steady stream of solid support and love, the last time she'd decided to pursue a friendship with Melok and not maintain a pure mentor like relationship with the Goblin, in less than six months she'd told him she loved him, and even she hadn't been certain how platonically she'd been speaking at that moment. So, Hermione mused, six months from now, where would she be with this Melok, and would her bond with Sirius be enough to keep it from evolving into something more?

There were few things in life Aberforth Dumbledore enjoyed more than flummoxing his elder brother. "I'm sorry," Albus said incredulously, "but did you say healed?"

"I did," Aberforth replied. "He's said he wants to go back into Healer training now that he's got a future to think on. I figured you probably have a contact or two at St. Mungo's and was wondering if you'd be willing to call in a favor for your nephew."

Albus just looked at him stupidly. "Healed? Cured? Completely?"

"Yes Albus!" he groaned. "You haven't gone bloody deaf and I'm not repeating myself one more time. Let it sink in. It's not like you didn't know it was possible."

"But Flamel…"

"Still have no idea where that tosser is," Aberforth admitted. "I got lucky and crossed paths with another Mage."

That, to no surprise, perked his brother's interest. "Another Mage has surfaced?"

"I am not at liberty to reveal their identity," he said firmly. "Don't even bother trying to use Legilimency, we both know you're pants at it, and you're a worse Occlumens. Honestly, how did you get this far in life and not master the mental arts?"

"Some of us weren't in Slytherin," Albus grumbled.

When he and Albus had been in school, the Head of Slytherin of that era, Professor Prince, had insisted that his upper years train in the mental arts. It wasn't a school wide directive, just something the Slytherins were given extra lessons in, as Professor Aevus Prince had felt that no proper Slytherin should be without the ability to protect their mind. Aberforth, at the time, thought that was a crock of shite, but in retrospect agreed wholeheartedly. Prince was long dead now, killed during the war with Grindelwald because unlike many Purebloods, he never bought into that tosser's ideals. Aberforth had nothing but respect for his former Head of House, under whom he had later obtained his Potions Mastery. "In any case," Aberforth said after a moment, "I will not be telling you who cured Aurelius. It is more than enough that he is cured."

"Indeed it is," the older of the brothers agreed. "At least, for the moment. I can't imagine a Mage just waltzed into your pub one day, happened upon you and your son, decided on a whim to expend great magical energy and cure him, and then went about their business without some sort of price. I expect at some point that price will come due."

Aberforth had to force himself not to laugh considering the fact that, for all intents and purposes, that had been exactly what happened. Hermione Black had, more or less, waltzed into his pub, happened upon Aurelius, decided on a bloody whim to cure him, and then went about her business. That he'd agreed to assist her in gaining her Potions Mastery was an arrangement on the side, which she'd offered to pay him for. He'd refused payment because he felt he owed her as it was, but she'd clearly not helped his son with any thought of gain. Madam Black simply was, by her nature, kind.

Absently, he thought that more or less ruled out her being a proper Slytherin. True Slytherins didn't do anything for absolutely nothing. "The price is between me and the Mage. Aurelius has nothing to do with it, and has made a vow to guard the Mage's identity much as I have, so I'll not have you pestering your nephew either."

"You'll have to forgive my curiosity, brother," Albus said. "It isn't every day a Mage surfaces. Further, as I've told you, I have concerns about…"

"I know all about your bloody concerns," he snapped, not interested in hearing about Tom bloody Riddle and his doings for the fiftieth time, as if he didn't already hear enough of the little twat's malarky in his pub every night. It never failed to amuse Aberforth that folk seemed to think his place was a good spot to conduct shady business. It wasn't as if it was difficult to sort out his surname, and only a fool wouldn't guess that no Dumbledore would be caught dead working for a Dark bloody Lord. Everyone at Hog's Head knew his name was Aberforth, of course, and anyone in Hogsmeade - the other business owners, that was - could tell anyone who asked that he was a Dumbledore. It was common enough knowledge. "You know if I hear anything worth mentioning, I'll let you know, Albus. Short of Abraxis sounding like he's keen to join up, which only a complete dolt wouldn't have seen coming, there's been nothing new to tell. If I talk to the Mage and the Mage is interested in your Dark Lord, I'll consider my options."

"The last thing Tom needs is a Mage working at his side," Albus said seriously.

Aberforth snorted, thinking that considering Madam Black was Muggleborn, hell might freeze over before she was inclined to join up with Riddle, no matter how she felt about Albus. Still, he'd press her for her thoughts on the matter next he saw her, just to be safe. Meanwhile, he'd assure his worrywart of a brother. "I very much doubt this particular Mage would be inclined to lend service to Riddle," he said.

"What makes you say that?" the older of the pair asked, looking at him curiously.

"I've got reasons," he shrugged. "Not telling you, though."

Albus groaned in frustration, and Aberforth just smirked. Yes, very few things in life were more enjoyable than screwing with his brother.

It had been a long day at the Ministry, and while Minerva didn't hate the work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she didn't love it either. Her boss, Elphinstone Urquart, had been dropping less than subtle hints that he'd like to take her out on a date, and aside from her general dislike of the idea of dating her boss, she was already somebody's Mistress. Of course, she couldn't exactly advertise that particular fact. Elph was a good man, too. He was older than her by a good measure, but they got on well and he made her laugh, and she liked to think they were friends at least. Minerva wasn't quite sure what to make of his romantic interest, aside from the fact that her brother Malcolm, who worked in the DMLE as well, had taken note of it and was taking the piss out of her for it. He and Robert were both married already, of course, and therefore her love life was a talking point anytime the three of them got together. Merlin save her if they ever found out about Orion.

Orion Black was a far cry from the Hufflepuff Muggleborn Malcolm had married, or the Ravenclaw Half-Blood who'd swept Robert off his feet. Katrina and Elizabeth were both good women, and Minerva imagined before long she'd be getting nieces and nephews out of one or both of her brothers and their wives, but given the current state of her personal life, she didn't imagine anyone would be calling her Mum anytime in the near future. She sure as hell wasn't going to allow herself to become both a Mistress as well as an unwed mother. Her pride could only take so much denting, after all.

She'd only just managed to put her satchel down and hung her cloak up on the hook, bent down to begin unlacing her boots, when there was a knock at the door to her flat. Minerva stood back up, frowning. She wasn't expecting Orion, nor her brothers. She'd only just seen Elise Ollivander last week and heard from Genia Flitwick by Owl yesterday. Roland Wood of course Floo called nearly every day to touch base, but he rarely dropped in without making plans ahead. Her Mum never left the bloody Highlands these days and her Father wouldn't be caught dead coming into Wizarding London, so Minerva didn't have the foggiest who could be calling. It wasn't as though she had a booming social life. Realizing there was nothing for it, she went and opened the door. To say she was surprised by who stood there was an understatement. "Professor Dumbledore!" she greeted.

"Miss McGonagall," he said with a smile. "It's lovely to see you, my dear. I was hoping for a few minutes of your time. Might I come in?"

She was completely boggled at what her mentor might want with her, several years after she'd left his tutelage after the completion of her Transfiguration Mastery during her final year at Hogwarts, but she did step aside and nod for him to enter. "Can I offer you some tea, sir?" she said, vaguely hoping she actually had some tea. She hadn't actually made it to market yet this week.

"No thank you," he said, taking a seat on her sofa. "I was wondering, how are you enjoying your current position at the Ministry, Minerva?"

Oh Merlin, she thought grimly. He was using her given name. That was never a good sign. "Well enough," she said, taking a seat opposite him. "It pays the bills. I'd much rather be working in Transfiguration, but to even think of getting those sorts of jobs at the Ministry I'd need to get another level or two up on my Mastery, and with my work schedule I haven't the time for studying."

His eyes twinkled. "What if you could work toward achieving Grandmaster status, while working in the field of Transfiguration?"

She laughed. "Aside from the ludicrousness of how difficult it is to find a Master who is willing to certify a woman as a Grandmaster, I can't fathom a situation where that would be tenable, much less tenable in a manner which I could afford."

Professor Dumbledore just smiled. "You'd go about it in the same manner I did, years ago. Come work at Hogwarts as a Professor of Transfiguration. Headmaster Dippet has expressed that he wishes to retire within the decade and as Deputy, I will be his natural successor as Head of Hogwarts. That will leave vacancies both in the post of Transfiguration Professor and in the Head of Gryffindor duties. While perhaps it's a simple enough task to find a Transfiguration Professor on shorter notice, it has long been preferred that the Heads of House be chosen from more tenured Professors. As things stand currently, the only former Gryffindor on staff with any tenure is Professor Bagshot, who has stated under no uncertain terms that he has no interest in being Head of House. This implies to Headmaster Dippet and myself that our best course of action, logically, is to hire a Transfiguration Professor now, to work under me in the department for the time being and share duties, freeing me up to begin learning more of the Headmaster's responsibilities, and that ten years down the line, said Transfiguration Professor - obviously a former Gryffindor - would then take over the department entirely, as well as take over as Head of Gryffindor, by then more than tenured."

Minerva was certain her eyes were wide enough they might well fall out of their sockets. "Are you… are you… Professor Dumbledore, are you offering me a job?"

"A job," he said with a nod, "room and board, meals provided, a healthy income, and as previously mentioned, a means to continue your own education. I don't give a toss what anyone says about women not being capable of being Grandmasters. You're capable, Minerva, and I do wish to sponsor you to that end."

"Bloody hell," she let out. Then, she realized what she'd said in the presence of her Professor and blushed in embarrassment for her outburst. "Sorry, sir."

"It's quite alright, my dear," he allowed. "I do believe I've given you a shock."

"Yes Professor," she agreed. "How long do I have to decide?"

"The Headmaster would like a firm commitment by the end of March," her Transfiguration Professor said kindly. "I figure several weeks should give you plenty of time to weigh the pros and cons carefully."

He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. She raised an eyebrow. "What's this?" she inquired, taking it.

"Details about the job offer," he explained, "as well as an outline of the Mastery program I hope to work with you on and how I propose we work it into our respective schedules, considering we will both have classes to teach. There is also an employee handbook in there, because I know you, Miss McGonagall, and one of the first things on your mind is going to be a question of how this job might hinder your comings and goings. I assure you that many of our Professors enjoy a social life. Some even have children who have grown up in the castle."

"Professor Filch," Minerva said, remembering the Latin teacher who'd joined the staff her Sixth Year of Hogwarts, bringing along her young Squib son. "I guess I never really thought about it, when I was a student."

"No real reason to," he offered. "Students rarely care much for the affairs of their Professors, although in Agatha's case, raising Argus at Hogwarts was a choice made more out of practicality than professional ambition. She'd likely have made more money and had more room for advancement if she'd been willing to foster Argus somewhere, but she wasn't about to give that boy up, Squib or not. So, she turned to her brother for help."

Curiosity got the better of her, true to her feline form. "Who is her brother? One of the other Professors?"

"The Headmaster," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling. "Why do you suppose Argus got away with so much when he was a boy? Of course, he's a grown man now and he's still getting away with everything. Mister Pringle has taken the lad under his wing, the last few years, however, so that's gotten a bit better. I think in time Appolyon will retire and Argus will take over, just as I hope you will take over for me, in due time."

"Would I be the only young Professor, sir?" she asked timidly. "I mean, I just recall my own Professors. Is everyone I knew still there?"

"Pomona Sprout is training under Professor Beery much in the same manner I'd like you to train under me," he replied. "You may remember her from school, although you were several years apart in age."

Minerva nodded. "She tutored me in Herbology my first few years. I always was pants at the subject."

"She continues to excel," he replied, looking amused. "Our current Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor is also only a few years older than yourself. A former Slytherin whom while I do not believe you ever had occasion to meet him, I do know you have some history with. I implore you, Minerva, to not let this history inform your decision."

She could only think of one Slytherin man, a few years older than herself, who Albus Dumbledore would know full bloody well would make her blood boil at the sight of. "Avery," she whispered, certain of her deduction.

"Tiberius Avery," he said in confirmation. "After Anne's death, he threw himself into a Mastery Program. Potions first, and then Defense. He's quite clever. For what it's worth, I believe he deeply regrets what happened to her."

"It's not worth much," she ground out. "He might as well have killed her, Professor."

"It was his parents who made the arrangement, Minerva," Dumbledore said sternly. "He did not ask for it. Tiberius and Anne merely behaved as any newly married couple might, and the consequences were as they were. Nobody could have foreseen it. Even if she'd been older, the same might have happened. Intellectually, you know this, even if your heart holds on to the pain because it has nothing left to hold onto otherwise. You have to let it go."

Minerva closed her eyes, trying hard not to cry as memories of Anne and the brief love affair they'd had during their fifth year, before she'd been married off to Avery, surfaced in her mind. It was difficult anymore to remember the way the girl had smelled and tasted, although she had photos to remind her of how Anne had looked. "Clearly, I have a great deal to think about," she finally said.

"I'll leave you to it then," her former Professor said, standing. "I'll see myself out. Thank you for seeing me."

She heard the door to her flat close behind him a minute later, but she didn't look. Tears had already begun to fall as she tried to wrap her head around the idea of working with the man she saw as responsible for her lover's death, by proxy of impregnating her at a mere sixteen years of age. She hated Avery. She hated him with every fiber of her being. On the other hand, he'd already taken Anne away from her. Could Minerva honestly allow him to take the chance to work at Hogwarts away from her as well? To gain Grandmaster status under Albus Dumbledore? To eventually become a tenured Professor and Head of Gryffindor House? It was more or less a dream come bloody true for her! Could she walk away from it just because Avery happened to be working at Hogwarts as well?

It was a big castle. She could avoid him. Right?

Minerva needed a friend to talk to about all of this, she knew. Weighing her options carefully, she wiped the tears off her face and dragged herself over to the Floo and tossed in some powder. "Wood Place," she called.

"Minerva, how are you?" the kindly Mrs. Wood greeted. "Are you looking for Roland?"

"Yes," she admitted, not that she imagined that was a shock to her former classmate's mother. "Is he free to drop by? I'm having something of a personal crisis and I could use his advice."

The older Witch chuckled. "He's out back playing with his broom. I'll send him along in a moment. Sit tight, my dear."

The Scottish woman nodded and backed away from the Floo, lowering the security wards to allow Roland to just come through when he liked, and then moved back over to her sofa to wait. It was only a few minutes before the familiar face of her fellow Scotsman came through, his blue eyes showing concern as soon as they met hers. "What's wrong, Min?" he asked as soon as he'd spelled away the soot. "Mum said you were having a crisis of some sort."

"Professor Dumbledore was just here," she said with a groan. "He's offered me a job at Hogwarts."

Roland's eyes widened. "I'd have thought you'd be happy about that. I'm assuming he wants you to work under him as a Transfiguration Professor, yeah? You'd be brilliant at that! Merlin knows you spent most of our last two years tutoring the lower years in the subject."

"I'm not concerned about my ability to do the bloody job," she snipped. "I'm concerned about my ability to not lose my mind having to work side by side with the current Defense Professor."

"I hadn't realized that Professor Hardy had left," Roland said, sitting down. "Merlin knows the bugger was old as hell, so I suppose he was due to retire. Who replaced him?"

"Tiberius Avery," she ground out.

Roland paled, well aware of her history with Anne. "Oh, fuck."

"That was about my sentiment," she admitted. "On one hand that makes me inclined to turn down Professor Dumbledore's offer simply because I can't stand the idea of having to be civil to that bastard on a daily basis during staff meetings and in front of students and the like, but on the other hand I hate to give him the bloody satisfaction of knowing that his presence will have driven me off from a great opportunity! I don't know what to do, Roland!"

"Well, are you a Gryffindor, or aren't you?" he asked, looking determined.

"That isn't playing fair," she groused.

"Well I may have been known at school for being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, but I was never a complete dunce," he shrugged. "I imagine Dumbledore has it in his head for you to replace him as Head of Gryffindor eventually, right?"

She shrugged. "He might have suggested as much."

"So I'm figuring that in the long run, you'll want good, inspirational stories to tell future Gryffindors about how to conquer their fears," he pressed. "What better story than to tell one of those kids about how when you first took the job, you considered not doing so because you were afraid of facing one of the staff members because of the history you had with them, but had the courage to rise above that fear?"

"You're suggesting I tell my students, many of which will come from conservative families, that I had an affair with a woman?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't say you had to give them the bloody details!" he laughed. "Leave 'em guessing. You don't even have to tell them it was Avery who you were scared of. Likely they'll think it was Keating. That bloke will scare the pants off any student outside of Ravenclaw House."

She laughed. "Professor Keating isn't that bad, once you get to know him a bit. Grumpy, I'll grant you, but overall mostly harmless."

"He was only nice to you because you were tight with Flitwick," Roland teased. "Keating took it easy on you as a courtesy to one of his own. He wasn't as kind to the rest of Gryffindor. I'd be curious to see if he's still nice to you without Flitwick there to back you up. Did Dumbledore say the rest of the staff is the same as when we were there, or has there been more turnover besides the Defense post?"

"No other turnover from what he said, although he mentioned that Pomona Sprout has been taken on by Professor Beery," she offered, "not unlike he means to take me on. Professor Dumbledore wants me to work toward advancing my own Mastery level in addition to my teaching duties, if I take the job."

"I always believed you were capable of doing it," he encouraged. "There's really no good reason not to take the post, Minerva. At least, not other than your fear, which is a stupid reason. Since when have we ever let Slytherins bully us? Wasn't that basically against the rules for you since First Year and you took to a general loathing of Walburga Black?"

"I still loathe Walburga Black," Minerva grumbled. "The cow."

"Still not over Orion, then?" he said sympathetically.

"Doubt I ever will be, to be honest," came a sincere reply. She wasn't going to admit to him that she was carrying on an affair with Orion, but Roland was well aware of her history with the Slytherin, and her feelings regarding him. "I've found it in my heart to love others, but those relationships come and go, and in the back of my mind there is always Orion, waiting. I feel like I'll never be rid of him, no matter how I wish otherwise sometimes."

"I'd offer to have Walburga killed, but the husband is always the first suspect and I'd be too afraid he'd end up going down for the crime," Roland shrugged. "I'm not high up enough in the Auror Corps yet to ensure the investigation would go the way I wanted."

Minerva leaned over and hugged Roland tightly. "I love you, you know that right?"

"Complete bummer we're not attracted to one another in the slightest, isn't it?" he said, offering a cheeky grin.

"True!" she laughed. "Thanks for talking me past my fears. I still want to weigh the pros and cons of taking Professor Dumbledore up on his offer, because it's not a commitment to be taken lightly, but at this point I feel like it's a decision I can make without taking my fears regarding Avery into account. I couldn't have said that half an hour ago, so thank you."

"What are friends for?" he asked.

"Getting sloshed together on a Friday evening after work?" she asked, pointing to her liquor cabinet.

"You're on!" Roland grinned, jumping up and grabbing a bottle and two glasses.

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