The fire crackled in the hearth as Minerva drew her robes in closer around her body.
Her tongue ran carefully over her teeth for a moment before she lifted her glass to her lips and swirled more of the silver-label single malt around her mouth. The smooth flavor brought a touch of numbness to her tastebuds even as it opened into her sinuses, the sweet notes doing little to appease to the dark thoughts running through her mind.
Maria had disappeared upstairs at half past eleven and Minerva had to admire the woman's fortitude. They had spoken more openly when the witch had arrived to the Manse for a late dinner, though Minerva was quick to discern that Sturgis had told his wife little concerning what he had uncovered at the Ministry.
Minerva had vacillated upon revealing the severity of her husband's clandestine appointment and had erred on the side of caution. She had been relieved when Maria didn't press, simply accepting the fact that she needed to stay the night at Minerva's while Sturgis completed a mission on the Order's behalf. If all went as planned then Maria could retain her innocence and it would be Sturgis' place to explain the situation.
Minerva took another sip of whisky, sniffing mirthlessly as she once again considered how many lives continued to be affected by the Order's activities. How many innocent people had been tainted? How many lives interrupted?
"When will it end?" she whispered quietly.
The logs sizzled and popped in the hearth, but beyond that there was no answer.
A flash of silver appearing before her had Minerva on her feet in moments, wand at the ready, her heart pounding. Annoyed by her overreaction, she straightened as the Patronus began to coalesce, but despite the cheery flush of the magic, Minerva's heart sank as a weasel appeared and not the grey heron she had expected.
Arthur Weasley's solemn voice spilled into the empty room.
"Sturgis Podmore is dead. Keep Maria safe and notify the Order."
Her heart clenched and Minerva bowed her head, jaw clenching even as a dark thought escaped the whirling combination of anger, shock, and guilt that flooded through her.
... It was not about to end anytime soon.