Here's the next chapter of The Journey, hope that you all enjoy. Thanks as always to my reviewers, this chapter is dedicated specifically to you! Hope you all enjoy it, as things are starting to heat up! I promise that the MMADness is coming, and that the wait will be worth it! And I really can't stress this enough: REVIEW! Please! It takes five seconds and brings me joy - and motivation! ;) Read and enjoy! :)

Gratitude in More Ways than One

Professor McGonagall was in a very good mood (largely due to the victory her Quidditch team had secured two days ago). Scandalously cheerful, some students called it – at least until she assigned them a large mound of homework.

She was sweeping about her third year students, watching their scowling faces as they waved their wands over the beetles they were supposed to be turning into buttons. A tap on her window caused the students to look up. A large brown school owl was outside the window, a letter in its beak.

'Carry on,' she said to her class, striding over to the window and opening with a flick of her wrist. The owl fluttered inside, dropped the letter, and flew away without waiting for a treat.

Minerva unravelled the scroll and found a short message in familiar loopy writing.

Staff –

There will be a short meeting at 3 o'clock this afternoon in the staffroom. Please come immediately after the last class of the day. No supplies necessary.

Headmaster Dumbledore

Minerva rolled the scroll back up and stowed it in her robes. There was one other class after this one, double Transfiguration with the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Once she got through that, she would go to the meeting. It was not often Albus called a staff meeting on a Monday.

It had been just two weeks ago that Minerva had gone to dinner with the Headmaster. The dinner had brought about a subtle change in their relationship, one not easily defined. When Albus saw her, he would smile, oftentimes putting his hand on the small of her back. They talked more frequently about more personal topics, stayed together later than usual for non-school related discussions. While their relationship had undergone other changes over the years, this one seemed to nestle restlessly in the back of her mind. This nagging was not unpleasant; on the contrary, Minerva had come to accept it and appreciate it – even if she did not yet know what it meant.

Another, less enjoyable nagging she endured was the one she'd first noticed the Monday after her dinner with Albus. Trudy was behaving, while cordial to Minerva, somewhat distant, and she hadn't seen the witch talk to her cousin in weeks. According to Pomona, the behaviour had been occurring since the week before Minerva's date – no, dinner – though Pomona was clueless as to why. Minerva thought she had a pretty good idea, but said nothing.

When the final bell of the day rang, Minerva packed her bag (it could no longer be called new), slung it over her shoulder, and departed for the staffroom.

It took just under ten minutes for all of the staff to arrive (Trelawney had neglected to attend) and get settled around the large wooden table in the centre of the room. Trudy, Minerva noted, was sitting between Pomona and Hagrid, avoiding both Minerva and Connor's gaze.

When they had all quieted, Dumbledore stood up at the head of the table and drew a large, thick envelope from within his robes. He opened it up, with motions that indicated he had already read its contents.

'Thank you all for coming. The subject of this meeting is this,' he said, raising the letter slightly. 'This comes from the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He has personally invited us all to the Honourable Ball of Gratitude, in the honour of Harry Potter, for defeating Lord Voldemort.'

Minerva resisted the urge to flinch.

'Shall I read the letter that came with the formal invitation?' Dumbledore continued. They all nodded.

'Very well. Here it is,' Albus said, drawing a small bit of parchment from the envelope.

'Dumbledore,

Enclosed is an invitation to the Gratitude Ball, which is open to everyone who is of age, with special exception. Please extend the invitation to your staff, as many of my workers wish to personally thank them – myself included – for protecting our children. The Ball will be held over Christmas break, so if you need any help with the school and the students, I have a few reliable people that are eager to be of service.

Please give my regards to the staff, and my hopes that they are well.

Please send me an owl with a list of who will be attending as soon as you can manage, and hope to see you soon.

Kingsley

P.S. Please extend my greetings to Minerva. If you could pass on the message that 'the beetle got nailed', I would very much appreciate it.'

Albus looked up from the letter to see Minerva looking relieved, and rather smug. Everyone was looking at her curiously, but Minerva gave Albus a look that he understood to mean tell you later, so he nodded and addressed the others.

'As this letter indicates, we have all been invited to the celebration. I personally would very much enjoy going, if the circumstances so warrant it. Is there anyone who feels the ball could do without their extravagant presence?' There was a pause.

'We may not have any students over the holidays,' Dumbledore added, 'in which case we are all free to attend.'

In other situations, Minerva might not have gone to the ball. She had never been fond of Ministry affairs like these. It was not that she felt uncomfortable (indeed, her parents, high-class magical researchers, had exposed young Minerva to more than her fair share of functions like these when they had been alive) or bored. She simply had little patience for witches and wizards who regularly attended these sort of things. They were mostly pretentious snobs who only went so they could brag about having been. It was also an opportunity to see countless of what Minerva disapprovingly called clingers – tall, thin witches with sequined dresses and heads as full as Crabbe and Goyle's.

However, this Ball was in honour of one of her Gryffindors, to thank him for defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She would look rude and uncaring if she did not go. While she had never much cared what others thought of her, this was one event she could not miss. Besides, it had been far too long since she had seen Kingsley or Hestia Jones or the Weasleys. She could look forward to seeing them, at least.

Moreover, Minerva knew that Kingsley was de-corrupting the entire Ministry of Magic right now, undergoing fair trials and rooting out any ancient beliefs. This was taking a toll on the number of workers, but enough remained and still more were pouring in. Hopefully, there would be a smaller number of clingers than usual.

'I'm not going,' muttered Filch from the corner. Dumbledore nodded.

'You may leave if you wish, Argus,' he said, and Filch went from the room, Mrs. Norris at his heels. 'Is there anyone else?' Dumbledore continued. 'No? Very well, then. I will send Kingsley an owl to inform him that we will be attending. Minerva, when you know how many students will be staying over the holidays, please let me know. That will be all.'

There was a scraping of chairs as the staff stood up and gathered their things. 'Trudy –,' Connor said, reaching out a hand, but Trudy left the room quickly, leaving an almost tangible draft of cold air behind her. Connor muttered something inaudible under his breath and left.

Minerva picked up her bag and followed her staff out, leaving with Poppy and Pomona at their insistence.

'Well, Minerva?' Poppy asked her friend later, looking amused. 'What is this about a beetle?' She, Minerva, and Pomona were sitting in Poppy's sitting room for a cup of tea before dinner.

'Kingsley was keeping me updated on Rita Skeeter's trial,' Minerva explained, 'for being an unregistered Animagus.' She frowned, and Poppy refrained from smiling with difficulty. Minerva had been incensed to hear of Rita's initial forgiveness by the ministry, being a registered Animagus herself.

'They were going to fine her,' Minerva continued, 'but I do believe that she was just convicted.' Poppy nodded, but Pomona looked at Minerva suspiciously.

'That's not all that happened,' Pomona guessed. 'You're not telling us something.' Minerva raised her chin slightly and looked Pomona in the eye.

'Oh?' she challenged. 'What exactly am I hiding?'

Pomona pursed her lips and regarded Minerva carefully. 'I don't know, but I'm willing to bet Dumbledore does. I intend to find out, Minerva – unless you'd like to tell me yourself and save me the trouble?'

Minerva fought the urge to roll her eyes. 'I had fully intended to tell, Pomona, and you, Poppy, of course,' she replied crisply. 'However, if you feel you can find out yourself –.'

'Minerva, that's hardly fair!' snapped Poppy. 'Tell us! Or at least, tell me, I didn't do anything.'

'Poppy!' shrieked Pomona indignantly.

Minerva laughed, amused. Unfortunately, this caused her friends to refocus their attentions on her. 'Minerva, go on, please?' Pomona asked.

'The two of you are like children,' Minerva sniffed disdainfully. 'Fighting over gossip like nifflers over gold.'

'You love us anyway,' Pomona said with a grin, 'so stop denying it and tell us what happened.'

'Very well,' Minerva said after a pause, and her friends leaned forwards eagerly. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Poppy hurried through to her office to answer it.

'You haven't been in another Quidditch accident?' came Poppy's clucking tone of disapproval as she spoke to the visitor. 'Go to the Hospital Wing, I shall be there in a moment.' There was the sound of receding footsteps, and then Poppy re-emerged.

'It's Peakes again,' she said to Minerva. 'He said Ritchie Coote hit a Bludger at him during practice.' Minerva frowned and rose to her feet. 'It's likely just a broken nose,' Poppy said, 'but I will check him for concussion. You can see to him later.'

Minerva nodded and set down her tea cup. 'Send him to me after he's well,' Minerva said. 'And for heavens sake, Poppy, let the boy play in the Quidditch match this weekend.' Poppy rolled her eyes and hurried to Hospital Wing.

'I must be going,' Minerva said to Pomona, who was looking disgruntled. 'Another time, Pomona.' Professor Sprout nodded and accompanied Minerva out into the corridor. They didn't far before they ran into a weedy-looking fifth year covered in mud.

'Mr Coote,' Minerva said briskly. 'I assume you are coming to see how your fellow Beater is?' She regarded the student over her glasses, eyebrows raised.

After having gotten over his initial shock that Minerva already knew about the accident, Coote nodded fretfully. 'Yes, Professor,' he panted, evidently having run all the way from the Quidditch pitch. 'I didn't mean to – Ginny said I should try to hit harder, I wasn't aiming for Jimmy!' He looked at Minerva anxiously.

'I see,' said Minerva. 'Mr Peakes in currently being tended to by Madam Pomfrey. While I don't know the details of his predicament, I believe that he will recover. In future,' she continued crisply, 'I expect that you will pay more attention to your surroundings so as to avoid a repeat of today's incident. Understand?'

'Yes, Professor,' Ritchie said. 'Can I – can I see him?'

'Go wait outside the Hospital Wing,' Minerva instructed. 'When Madam Pomfrey has finished, she will let you in.' The boy nodded and ran off.

Pomona chuckled once Ritchie was out of earshot. 'Poor boy,' she said. 'He looked so worried.'

Minerva smiled wryly. 'I have long since decided that whatever torture they endure, whether self-inflicted or by the hand of their peers, is worse than anything I can subject them to.' Pomona laughed outright.

'I suppose you're right,' she concurred. 'The only thing that seems to work really well is a serious loss of House points – and most of us are reluctant to do that to our own Houses.'

'I've done it before,' sniffed Minerva. 'Though why my students feel the need to engage in activities that merit such a loss of points is beyond me.'

'Oh, I don't know,' said Pomona lightly. 'I heard that you were quite the student during your time.' She grinned at Minerva.

'Who said that?' Minerva demanded. 'It was Horace, wasn't it? I'll have you know, Pomona Sprout, that I was top of my class!' Minerva's face was stern, which was how the students saw it, but Pomona detected a glint of humour in Minerva's eyes.

'I never said you weren't, Pomona defended herself with a smile, raising her hands. 'All I'm saying is that someone might have mentioned that you –.'

'That I what?' interrupted Minerva, looking at Pomona threateningly.

'That you – er – were a model students and an excellent Chaser,' faltered Pomona. Minerva nodded approvingly.

'Much better,' she said approvingly. Pomona laughed again, and Minerva allowed herself a smile.

Ten minutes later, Minerva bid Pomona goodbye and left for her office, saying she had two sixth year girls coming in for Transfiguration help before dinner. Pomona, thinking she might visit Filius, made her way to the Charms corridor, only to hear a familiar voice.

'This is the second time this week you've handed in less than acceptable essays, Mr. Bush. Fifteen points from Hufflepuff, and be grateful it isn't more,' snapped Trudy. Then came the sound of angry footsteps as the students deaparted, and Pomona stopped and considered. While the punishment was perfectly reasonable, it was highly unlike Trudy to be so abrupt and irritated with her students. Pomona had noticed Trudy's less than cordial behaviour towards her cousin – 'complete aversion' described it rather accurately – and wondered the reason for it. This was a good opportunity to find out why.

And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that Hufflepuff had just lost fifteen points.

'Professor Crawford?' she called, turning the corner. Trudy spun around, looking harassed, but she relaxed when she saw Pomona.

'Professor Sprout,' she said, sounding relieved. 'How are you?'

'Just fine,' Pomona answered, trying to be cheerful. 'I was going to call for a cup of tea in my quarters before dinner. Would you like to come?' She smiled. Trudy hesitated. 'Come on, it'll do you good,' Pomona encouraged. Trudy finally nodded.

'Alright then, thank you,' she accepted, and the two began the trek to Sprout's office.

'Was that Joshua Bush you were talking to?' Pomona enquired.

Trudy nodded. 'His work is usually stellar; I don't know what has gotten into him. Lately he's lucky if he manages an 'Acceptable'.'

The two witches continued to discuss Bush and various other students until they reached Pomona's chambers. Once they had settled in her sitting room, Pomona called her house-elf, a kind-looking female named Herba.

'Two cups of tea please, Herba,' Pomona said as she sat. 'One herbal, the other mint.' Pomona had taken note of Trudy's preferred tea weeks ago. The house-elf made a bow and disappeared, returning with a crack a moment later. She placed them on the coffee table and bowed again before leaving.

'So, Trudy,' Pomona said, watching as the younger witch added cream to her tea, 'how are you?' She tried to ask to question sincerely, hoping that Trudy would give her an honest answer. She expected to have to wheedle what she wanted to know out of Trudy, but she was surprised.

'Pomona, I have to tell somebody!' burst out Trudy. 'I'm sorry, it's just been bothering me for ages.'

'Of course, dear,' Pomona said gently. 'What's happened?'

'It doesn't have much to do with me – well, I suppose in a way it does – and I wasn't sure if I ought to speak, because it was so disrespectful.' Trudy flushed angrily just thinking about it, remembering the words.

'It was three weeks ago, I think,' she began. 'Connor and I were in the staff room talking. I expressed a desire to get to know Minerva's brother better.' Trudy gave Pomona a meaningful look, and Pomona understood.

'Connor teased me a bit, which was fine, really. Only then Minerva came in and got some tea.' Pomona inhaled sharply. She saw where this was going. 'We were talking, and it wasn't as awkward as I had anticipated, what with Minerva and Connor not really being comfortable with each other. It was going fine until Trelawney came in.' Trudy took a deep breath.

'She mentioned that she had seen me with Bran the other day, and one thing led to another and she and Minerva sort of quarrelled – only Minerva destroyed her fairly quickly. Sybil left, and Minerva, just as a conversation piece, I suppose, mentioned that had been unaware that I had seen Bran.' Pomona grimaced and patted Trudy on the shoulder comfortingly. 'I may have blushed a bit,' Trudy admitted, 'but then Connor actually told Minerva that I – well, you know. Then it was horribly awkward, and Minerva quickly left.'

'Oh, you poor thing,' Pomona said. 'It's not as bad as you think, now, Minerva won't hold anything against you.'

'I'm not finished,' Trudy said shakily. 'It was a little while later that I confronted Connor and asked him why he had told Minerva. I think I brought up how much younger I was then Bran, and Connor – Merlin, he was terrible!'

'What did he say?' Pomona asked, leaning forwards.

Trudy shifted uncomfortably. 'I don't like to repeat it. He said that the age difference couldn't bother Minerva because – because she'd 'shagged Dumbledore', and he's so much older than Minerva.'

Pomona gasped. She could hardly believe it. She was not especially fond of Connor, but she hadn't thought him disrespectful or offensive. But this, this was unbelievably rude!

'I haven't spoken to Connor since,' Trudy said quietly, noticing Pomona's anger. 'But I also haven't been able to look Minerva in the face.'

'Oh dear,' Pomona said, and the two witches sat in silence.

'Well, I think that's the last of them, Minerva,' Dumbledore said cheerfully as he and Minerva filed away the budget plans. It was after dinner, and the two of them had been working for an hour. 'I do appreciate you helping, my dear.'

'It's not a problem,' Minerva replied. 'I should leave now, though. I have some marking to do.' She inwardly grimaced at the thought of the stack of fourth-year essays awaiting her.

'Minerva, if you wait just a moment?' Albus asked before she could leave.

'Yes, Albus?' Minerva said. He approached her.

'I have a question I'd like to ask you, Minerva,' he said with a smile. Minerva raised her eyebrows.

'Yes?' She really needed to get started on those essays.

'Perhaps not so much a question as a sentiment,' Dumbledore amended.

'What is it, Albus?' Minerva said briskly.

'How do you feel about the Gratitude Ball?' he asked. Minerva's eyes narrowed in question. 'Will you be going alone?' he continued.

'I expect so,' Minerva said crisply. 'Albus, I don't quite –.'

'Would you go with someone, if they asked?' Dumbledore enquired.

'I hadn't thought about it – I don't expect to be asked, really,' Minerva began.

'And if you were asked?' Albus asked, looking at her pointedly. There was a pause.

'What?' said Minerva. There was another pregnant pause.

'I should like to take you to the Ball, Minerva,' said Albus slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. He watched as her crisp manner flickered for a moment, a split second of self-doubt flashing in her eyes, before she regained her composure. She looked him in the eye.

'I should like that very much, Albus,' she finally said.

'I'm very glad,' he said. Minerva stifled the foreign urge to wrap her arms around him. 'Thank you, Minerva.'

Later, in her chambers, it sunk in: Minerva was publicly attending a Ball with Albus Dumbledore.

TBC

A/N: There you have it! Next up: Girl Talk with Min and her friends! After that is the ball, I promise ;) REVIEW!