It took a while, but here is the epilogue. Oh, and the abysmal ending to the last chapter had been rectified, so it might be worth a peek!
Please, I mean no slight on America at all. It could happen to someone here ... I know of a few in town, but I thought it would be a good way of getting rid of Letitia.
Um ... J-cloths are blue and white cloths for doing the yucky stuff – at least in out house!
The middle quote is not quite fitting, but I like it. I'm not sure what wizards believe, but there is the 'God' part. No disrespect.
The quote is from 'Pippa's Song,' by Robert Browning.
Chpater Eight.
Epilogue.
"Albus! Have you seen what they've done to the grades?!" Albus looked up to see his wife, her belly preceding her through the door, holding a Ministry letter.
"No, I have not. Who's done what to what?" he said politely; she was a little emotional at the moment.
"The Ministry!" she cried, "look!" and flung the envelope down onto the breakfast table. It was purple and emblazoned with the Ministry of magic emblem. He read it quickly.
"New grades? Mm." he said thoughtfully. "Might be good idea."
She snorted. "But why bother? The system we have now works well enough."
"Ask the Minister the next time you see him."
"Oh, I will. What's for food?"
"Whatever you like, my dear," he said helpfully.
She looked at their breakfast spread; ham, eggs, scrambled and boiled, and toast were arranged on a chequered yellow table cloth (embroidered, in the smallest stitching imaginable, with sherbet lemons) and sighed. "Actually, I really fancy some olives ..."
"Olives?"
"With lemon ice-cream," nodded Minerva.
"What?" gaped Albus, aghast.
"Olives with lemon ice-cream; that's what I said." replied Minerva testily. "In fact, the thought of eating anything else makes me feel ill. Carrie!" Minerva called for her house elf and ordered something that made Albus wonder seriously if his wife was quite herself. When it arrived, however, the smell overwhelmed anything imaginable. Eyes watering, Albus cast the strongest ward spell he could.
Minerva dipped an olive into the lemon ice-cream and idly opened the paper. The front was gabbling on about Cassandra Trelawney having yet another vision. Snorting, Minerva looked through the rest of the pages; towards page five, she stopped, choking on her olive.
"What is it?!" Said Albus urgently.
"I ... um ... nothing!" Minerva tried to turn the page and block the particular article she was reading. "Nothing at all!"
"Minerva ..." he said sternly. "What is it?"
She sighed and handed over the paper. "It's Letitia." Albus stiffened and transferred his gaze to the Prophet.
Letitia Moves On!
Well-known member of society, Letitia Gordon, has left her Ministry boyfriend, David. When asked about it, she only had this to say: "I just feel it's time to move on."
Letitia has been a prominent figure in recent months, first through her engagement to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School, then for 'crashing the wedding' with help from her fiancé David.
"We love each other," she said at one interview in January last year, "and when you're in love, you have to stick together. I'm sorry to hurt Alby's feelings, but he will get over it in time, I imagine."
But, to all those who followed the news of their unlikely pairing, this seemed impossible. Albus had clearly been head-over-heels in love with Miss. Gordon, as many of these pictures show.
There followed a series of pictures in which Letitia and Albus looked like the happy couple. Though evidently out of date, Minerva's heart sank. The press would be printing this for days now.
Letitia, however, seems quite unaffected buy the break up and is considering taking a break from Britain. She said yesterday that, 'The weather and sobriety here are really too much for me' and that she is going to New York itself for a bit of well-deserved relaxation. Letitia, we believe, has already been commissioned for photo-shoot in Axis-Studios -
Minerva tugged the offending newspaper out of her husband's hand and frowned at it. "Horrible rag," she said contemptuously, then looked up to gage Albus' reaction. He was twinkling at her. She raised her eyebrows.
"You're not going to sulk, then?"
"Minerva!" he exclaimed. "Have I ever done that?"
"You sulked when I told Hortensia about our marriage," she returned swiftly. Albus had indeed sulked badly when she had told her funny, if slightly nosey, older-cousin about their marriage, which they had agreed to keep secret.
Albus sighed. "You've got me there, my dear." He pulled her to his side and kissed the top of her head. "How can I make it up to you?"
"By de-gnoming the garden," she answered comfortably. "They're eating all my sweet-butter plants."
Albus choked on his morning tea. "Those gnomes are menaces!" he cried, waving his toast about. "Every time I try to catch them, they bite me!"
"Catch them quicker then," she said smugly. Albus made a noise of strangled protest. "You love my sweet-butter plants, don't you?"
Albus sighed again, this time because he knew he was cornered. "Very well, my dear, you've won. I'll attend to it directly."
"Good." Minerva patted the top of his head as she stood up to put her plate by the sink. "Oh, but before you do, could you wash-up, please?"
"Minerva," he said slowly, "you are a witch. You can use magic, you know." But he had tried to fight this battle before and lost dismally. Sure enough back came her brisk response.
"There will be no magic used in the domestic activities in my house, as you know full well, Albus. Get a J-cloth and start working."
Albus chuckled under his breath and slipped his arm round her waist, putting his chin on her shoulder so that they were both staring out at the garden Minerva had worked so hard to tame before becoming pregnant, and breathing into her neck, kissing her softly on the sensitive skin on her collarbone. "If my Lady commands it."
She smiled and gently put a hand on his chest to get him on his way. "Lady's are supposed to have spotless accommodation," she said, laughing, "and this one is not. Get on with it, My Lord."
"If you insist," he chuckled and relinquished his grasp on her waist. Grabbing a J-cloth, he starting running the hot water and Minerva turned back to her olive and lemon ice-cream breakfast, to Albus' everlasting horror.
Minerva watched Albus trying to catch the gnomes, missing, falling, and then cursing, and smiled. Everything was so perfect. She was five months pregnant with their first child and so her and Albus had retired to their small highland cottage to await it's arrival.
School was over and neither Albus nor Minerva would be returning for while. Albus was still on leave after killing Grindelwald, which had wounded him badly, though no long-lasting symptoms were developing. She also was off for her pregnancy, but only a select few knew of it.
She had her beautiful cottage, the deep blue loch below her, an apple orchard and a wild, thrilling jungle of a garden for her child to play in. Minerva draped a protective hand over her swollen belly and felt tears coming to her eyes.
There was nothing else she could ask for herself now. She was happier than she thought she had any right to be. Soon she would have her very own family, with hopefully more to come. Albus and her would always love each other, always cherish each other, always be the happy couple they were. No matter what may come their way.
The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearl'd.
So thought Minerva as she sat in the midst of her own, magical world.
--
Minerva hummed happily as she looked at the colourful ranges of dress robes. Navy or burgundy, she wondered, then felt disgusted with herself. She sounded so shallow! Today, however, she really did have a reason to indulge, and she was going to enjoy it.
Her youngest son, Brian, was about to get married. And to such a wonderful woman, mused Minerva. Evie was intelligent, funny, and very pretty, though according to her brothers, had a hot temper with which she could scrape the skin of any man that crossed her - but that was only esoccasionally. And, Minerva thought with a grin, her son really did need someone that could keep him in order. He tended to be rather impulsive and rash, but his magical power rivalled her own.
Minerva bit her lip to stop herself from squealing out loud at the joyful thought – the other customers of Dervish and Banges might find it a bit alarming – and pulled a dark red robe from the rack. It was very nice ...
She had just decided to get the red robes, when she caught sight of another blue pair. She touched the fabric gently. Beautiful. The deep sleeves would fall over her hands, she could see, and the waist was gently pulled tight. A tiny golden thread ran round the hem and neckline, matching, Minerva knew, Albus' robe. Perhaps this one was better. Minerva sighed and slumped on a fitting stool. Shopping was just as tiring now as it had been with Poppy and Rolanda.
Shoes ... yes, she had to buy shoes ... Minerva sighed again and threw in a groan for good measure. Shopping really was a curse made specially for women.
Pulling herself to her feet, Minerva bumped straight into another customer also making her way down the isle.
"Oh! Excuse me," she said quickly, "I didn't see you there."
"Don't mention it," grunted a hoarse, scratchy, but still vaguely feminine voice. "I've got used to after all these years, Minerva."
Hearing her name, Minerva looked straight at the person she had bumped into and recoiled in shock. The woman before looked like one of the shrivelled heads it was possible to buy in Knockturn Alley.
Her skin, dry, wrinkled and sagging, hung from her face and neck, making it seem like a chickens comb. The woman's lips were painted a bright cherry red, but deep lines touched her upper lip and wrinkles seemed to start at her forehead and droop down her face, pulling and twisting at the skin, which itself was a burnt, pink-and-gey front.
A huge amount of pink make-up covered her cheeks, and a mass of mascara, eye-liner and shadow was applied to her faded blue eyes. But, as Minerva saw, the eyelashes were dead and dry looking, the skin around the eyes drooping; the eyebrows had been plucked so often that they were all puckered and nearly invisible. In fact, Minerva thought, she looked as if she had spent her whole life in a wild-child state, smoking, drinking heavily and other worse things. But how did this creature know her name?
"Excuse me?" she said again, this time as question. The woman snorted and tossed her head of dyed-blonde hair.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten me, Minerva? After all, I did live in Hogwarts for months."
"Letitia?" Gasped Minerva
The woman sank down onto the stool Minerva had just vacated. She caught a whiff of the fruity, powerful perfume she wore, though it was not enough to mask the smell of stale tobacco. "The very same."
"What are you doing here?" Minerva asked, as soon as she could speak. "I heard you were in America!"
"I took a portkey home," she drawled, for all the world as if she was student caught misbehaving.
"What happened, Letitia?" Minerva stared at the shrivelled creature that had once been so beautiful. "You look ..."
"I am in perfect health," she snapped. "I've been to America, spent some time living properly ... much nicer over there."
"It looks more like you died over there, Letitia," said Minerva, staring at the older woman's thick mask of make-up.
"It seems I've more in my life than you have!" she retorted spitefully. "Teaching at that dead-end school with a load of dry sticks for colleagues!" She took a deep breath and began to search for something in her peacock-blue robes. "So tell me, Minerva, how have you been?"
Minerva answered cautiously. Few knew of her marriage to Albus and only a few more knew of their four children. "I married a year or two after you left. My youngest son is getting married tomorrow."
Letitia's eyebrows rose. "Who would have thought ...?" she drawled. "Congratulations are in order, then."
Minerva remembered with rush why she had not liked this woman. "Yes, they are," she replied tartly. "And you?"
"Oh, you don't want to know, Minerva," she told her. "How's Albus?"
Minerva stiffened. "He's doing well, I think," she said, lying through her teeth. Her and Albus were more than all right! Two sons married, another one an Unspeakable, and their only daughter working as a curse-breaker for Gringotts, they were the happiest couple ever heard of. "And so is Hogwarts," she added for good measure.
"Glad to hear it," Letitia had finally found what she was looking for and held the long, poisonous looking cigarette to a bulky looking muggle lighter. But before she could light it, a tall, dark man interrupted her.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he said courteously, "but there is no smoking allowed in Dervish and Banges."
Letitia stood laboriously. "It seems I'm not welcome here," she said in a careless, slightly insinuating voice. "Well, I'm off, then." She waved her lighter to accentuate why she was leaving, then nodded at Minerva and Dervish escorted her to the door.
Minerva watched from the lead-paned window as Letitia paused in the street to lift the cigarette to her mouth, then straighten and head off towards the Hog's Head. Minerva turned away, sickened.
How had such a beautiful, if shallow, creature, become such a mess? She could have done so much with her life, if she had put her mind to it. Alcohol and tobacco had broken down the young woman that had once been engaged and now, when she was not able to continue her old life, she had nothing. No family, children or partner. Perhaps not even any friends.
Minerva paid for the blue robes and some matching shoes she had found with a rather troubled, preoccupied air.
--
The little house in the Scottish Highlands had never housed so many. Tens of people had come to see Brian Dumbledore and Evangeline Newton marry. Evie's friends from her job at Gringotts – especially the very friend that had introduced her to Brian, Ada Dumbledore, Minerva's only daughter. Brian's friends from the Auror department, including Lenti Shacklebolt and Simon Robbards were also happily received.
Minerva looked at the happy gathering and smiled contentedly. Evie had been a wonderful bride, all done up in white, ribbons adorning her fiery hair, only a shade darker than her husband's, and glowing with happiness. Brian, too, had been a handsome Groom. His dark green robes had clashed magnificently with his auburn hair – inherited from his father – and had been gallant to a tee.
Tears had come to her eyes just then, and Albus had put a comforting arm around her slender shoulders, holding her tight. Oh, everything was so right – so wonderful and happy and good.
Looking up at the mauve sunset, blue shot with red, with streaks of fiery Gryffindor red, Minerva felt as if all was perfect.
"The Lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the Thorn;
God's in His heaven –
All's right with the world."
Whispered Minerva to the cool night air. All was right.
--
For all those who wanted to see Letitia punished, I think this is good enough, no? I am trying to put morales into all my stories, and i'm sure you guess the morale to this one.
This might be offensive if you smoke, but I will not apologise, I'm afraid. Flame if you wish. We need to get the wood-burner going anyway. I will read 'em and laugh.