Disclaimer: Yep, you've caught me. I'm JKR. this is my latest opus that i have posted on the internet without editing or publishers for zero profit and under a pseudonym. Gosh you're clever aren't you. It ain't mine etc. etc. etc.

Note: I couldn't think of a chapter title and I couldn't decide between the two quotes, and to top it off I couldn't decide If id include at least half of this chapter. Today was just not a day of decisive clarity. So I hope you enjoy both quotes, all of the chapter and excuse a particularly uninspired chapter name. A/N: turns out one of my quotes was a bit crap so I've changed it and thanks to dragoon109 for the feedback :)


"When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching - they are your family. "
Jim Butcher

"Every home is a university and the parents are the teachers."
-Mahatma Gandhi


The long uncut bulrushes brushed sleekly against Emmanuel's robes as he made his way up the sloping garden path. He'd never before visited the ram shackle building that loomed ahead, but there was no mistaking the teetering added stories and mismatched paneling as any other magical dwelling. The Burrow had become almost as famous as the Weasley clan themselves after the final batter. The ministry had stepped forward and equipped the family dwelling with a set of stringent magical wards once more, if not to keep out the few death eater insurgents still at large, than at least to deter reporters and bothersome tourists. Grimauld Place had been given the same treatment- if at the clear reluctance of the famous Mr Potter.

Emmanuel chuckled quietly as he continued up the gravel path, his boots trudging lightly, making as little noise as he possibly could. Mr Potter wasn't half as daft as he was made out to be; the Gryffindor's instincts hadn't been unfounded and if Potter had followed his gut and refused the Ministry access to his wards, Emmanuel's men wouldn't be infiltrating his house at this very moment. HE doubted granger would still be there of course, but he had to cover all of this bases. The ground was quickly sinking out from underneath her and Emmanuel knew from experience that when people were backed into a corner, they made stupid mistakes. Looking up at the outline of the Burros, Emmanuel smiled. Hiding here was definitely a stupid mistake. Even now he had his men surrounding the building, an anti-apparition blanket in place and had sealed off the Weasley's floo grate. Once the MLE officers had checked Grimauld Place was clear, they'd be making trips to the other homes of the Order members whose wards the ministry had some tenant of control over.

But Emmanuel was factoring in on the arrogance of the so-called golden trio, the arrogance dear old Dolores had spouted off time and time again. Forming a secrete defence organisation in the open of the Hogs head, beneath the eyes and (bandaged) ears of ministry personnel was a mark of foolishness not many would match with a witch as bright as Hermione Granger- but it only went to show, not only did the girl make mistakes, she had the audacity to believe she was genuinely 3steps ahead of everyone else. It would be just like the girl to hide in plain sight, never dreaming the ministry would be after her so quickly.

After all, even if she knew about the marriage law, she had no way to know Theodore Burges was preparing at this very minute to bring the law forward. Hermione Granger was out of time and by dawn tomorrow she would be breaking the law. Emmanuel could have let her hole up, let her think she was hidden away, and then let her read about the law in tomorrow's morning prophet. He could have- were he not looking forward to the privilege of seeing her face first hand. If today's debacle at St Mungo's had shown anything it was that the girl was good.

But not good enough.

Emmanuel had grown tired of playing now and it was time for the witch to return the files and stand in line with the rest of the Wizarding world. Reaching the door, Emmanuel gave the wood a resounding couple of taps, before stepping back and listening expectantly to the sounds of shuffling from within. Before he could contemplate knocking again, the door was opened by a thoroughly irate, dumpy red haired woman.

"Mrs Weasley, I presume?"

"Yes. Mister…?"

The woman trailed off leaving her sentence hanging in the air in the form of a question but it was not curiosity that marred her tone so much as suspicion. Emmanuel knew that even as her sharp eyes took in his dark grey robes her hand was clutching her wand behind the still ajar door. The war had never properly ended for this lot it seemed.

"My names Emmanuel, Mrs Weasley. I was wondering if I could have a word with Miss Granger?"


By the time Kreacher came to, the nasty intruding wizards had finished streaming through his masters house, and stood around him in the narrow landing. One of the wizards was kneeled down next to him, his wan pointed straight in Kreacher's face.

"Calm down Elf, we're her on behalf of the Ministry. Where are Mr Potter and Ms Granger?"

Kreacher slowly blinked up at the thin, rakish man, before curling his lip derisively into an aged sneer. Kreacher cared nothing for nasty wizards, or their wands. With his magical reserves depleted, Kreacher let his bony hands spread across the hardwood floor and drew forth the very last of the ancient house's residual magic. Feeling the flow trickle through his fingers, Kreacher glared up at the intruder once more and the man withdrew, his face full of shock as he stared down at the rippling of magic coming from the elf. With a croaky, wheezing laugh Kreacher threw up the wards of the old house once more, the windows and doors audibly locking, before apparating out from beneath the wizard's wand with a deafening crack. Kreacher must let master know the house had been breached. Master would deal with this bad, bad man- they would not be getting out of the house until he did.


It was waking up that morning, drenching in a cold sweat that made up Minerva's mind. It had been years sine she dreamt of her father. Not since the return of Voldemort all those years ago. At first she hadn't even realised it was him.

She'd been sitting at the top Dias, with a building agitation as she looked down at the Great Hall. She had the inexplicable feeling something was drastically wrong, but try as she might she couldn't spot the source of the disturbance in the crowd of students below. In the way of dreams, the Great hall was set in groups of small round tables, just as it was during the Triwizard Tournament's Yule Ball, yet her dream self apparently found this unremarkable. It was breakfast and students chatted happily in their school roes. There was no separation of houses, and no great drama for the lack of distinction, and yet as the meal progressed she became more and more aware of something fundamentally wrong- an anxiety apparently not shared by her fellow members of staff along the Dias. Watching them chat impervious to her inner turmoil, Minerva was shocked to realise she was not in fact seated in the Headmistress's central chair. She was sat to the right, the seat she'd occupied for over forty years by Albus' side.

Just as she was about to turn to her left, the hairs on the back of her neck had stood on end and all at once, Minerva knew exactly what was wrong. Standing around the room, unnoticed by the students, hundreds of dull-faced wizards in grey, suit cut robes stood stock still, unmoving and staring in at the students. With a gasp clinging like a dry lump in the back of her throat, Minerva had turned to point the anomaly out to Albus. Raising her arm to point the wizards out, her eyes widened and mouth hung open as she recognised the man seated next to her. Her father stared back at her and she was frozen in that cold, cold gaze.

"What have I told you Minnie?"

Her throat had closed and just like that she was an eight-year-old girl again.

"There's no such thing as wizards."

"Good girl."

Minerva felt a gentle hand grip her arm beneath the table and looked up to see her mother smiling encouragingly down at her.

"I see them too sweetheart. Of course there are wizards there. We're just special."

Minerva looked nervously from her mother to her father, far from comfortable being caught tangibly in the middle.

"If a person turns to mediums and necromancers, whoring after them, I will set my face against that person and will cut him off from among his people. Leviticus 20:6."

Minerva shuddered in her seat. She had forgotten how stony her father could sound.

"You'll frighten the girl, Robert! What have I told you?"

"Woman, you will not challenge me at this table."

Below the Dias, the students continued with breakfast as through nothing off was afoot- only the ministry men on the wall had swivelled, so that every one of their eyes was trained on her, sitting miserably as she was between her two parents.

No.

They weren't staring at her. They were starring at the goblet her father was slowly raising to his lips. Before she knew quite was she was doing, she'd swept the goblet from his hand- but not with her own hands. As the goblet floated above the table, Minerva felt the full force of her Father's glare upon her.

"Give me the goblet child."

"Father, no! It must be a potion, a poison- the wizards, they-"

"Let down the goblet child. Now."

"Father-"

"Now."

With panicked eyes and sweaty hands, Minerva concentrated on the cup until it floated gently to the table top. Below the Dias, the students were silent. They seemed to have finally noticed the wizards pressing in around the room, and looked up fearfully to her in guidance. But she wasn't even in the headmistress's chair! She wanted to scream down at them, but was interrupted by her father's voice once more.

"Drink it."

Her mother's hand squeezed her arm gently under the table, bidding her to do as she was told, warning her not to make trouble. Glancing at the grey dour wizards on the wall, Minerva took the goblet in her hand and raised it to her lips. Locking gazes with her Father she had downed the sickly purple brew in one quick finish.

"Good girl"

Minerva had shot up from her sheets, shivering in the faint light of dawn and weary in her very bones. Despite the extremity of the hour, despite the cool highlands air, there was only one thing on her mind- the burnt smoking taste still lingering on her tongue. She'd remember that taste anywhere. She'd been 18, when her mother, realising her daughter was flush with young love for the farmer's son, Dougal McGregor, had surreptitiously pulled her aside. As the daughter of the local pastor, Minerva had been more than shocked when her mother had pressed into her hand a small, purple vial and instructor her to take it once a month. In truth, it was her mother's trust; some could say blind trust, which urged Minerva to act as she eventually did. Her mother had brought magic into the house, risking her father's displeasure, so that Minerva would be protected from the follies of youth. At the time, it was insulting to say the least. But, smart girl that she was, Minerva knew what her mother was doing- she didn't want her daughter repeating her mistakes; squandering her magical talent and supressing her true self; Even if it was for true love. Her father had found out of course, and promptly called her a whore- despite the fact Douglas had proposed only that night. A small part of Minerva would always love the boy, but she could never bring herself to regret rejecting him.

Minerva shivered and promptly threw the bed covers off her, setting across the room for her warmest cloak. Sleep had truly abandoned her now. She knew what she had to do. She was damned if she would turn away a single student from this castle while she was still living. She'd already been making plans with her heads of houses, and today after she had gone through the Hogwarts charter with Irma and Poppy, she would contact Severus. If anyone would brew her enormous quantities of what would surely become illegal contraceptives, it would be him. Despite the taciturn display he put up for the world, Minerva knew the man could always be counted to fight for Hogwarts. After all, she knew exactly what it was like to call these hallowed halls home.


"My names Emmanuel, Mrs Weasley. I was wondering if I could have a word with Miss Granger?"

"Oh you were, were you? And where are you from then? Is there some new article she's kept hidden? A book? Has she discovered some secret other use for dragon blood? Or are you from that Mungo's lot? Well you can clear off now, Hermione doesn't live here anymore- not since she slighted my poor boy."

"Mum? Who's that? What's all the shouting?"

By the time Emmanuel had come out of his shock, he'd unknowingly retreated three steps from the front door and away from the dumpy woman now brandishing about a wooden spoon. Growling internally at himself, Emmanuel quickly readjusted his cool smile and attempted to interrupt the witch, but not before her son reached the door and diffused the situation.

"Oh Emmanuel. Hiya."

The harridan of a woman seemed to deflate at this, but her eyes still glared him down as if daring him to reclaim the ground he had lost in her advance. Keeping an eye on the troubling witch, Emmanuel swung to give the Weasley boy a look of appraisal. His arm was out of bandaging and looked completely unharmed, but his face appeared flustered, and his ears burning red.

"Ronald. I was just telling your mother here that I needed to speak with miss Granger."

"Oh... uh…"

"Would you mind if I came in, Madame Weasley? You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

The woman let him into her home with all the graciousness of a rabid bowtruckle, ushering him into a small cluttered sitting room before standing in the corner with her arms crossed. The Ron boy came in an awkwardly sat in the chair opposite and Emmanuel began to have his first doubts. He hadn't expected to be let in so easily, and he hadn't expected such open hostility. Perhaps poorly concealed hostility, yes, but it was if the red headed pair had been caught unaware- as though they weren't expecting an intrusion and had no story planned. Not even the Granger girls could be this arrogant.

"I'm sorry Emmanuel, but I haven't seen Hermione since she came to visit the other night at St Mungo's, when you were there. She's … that's to say…"

"She's staying with my daughter at Grimauld Place. I'm sure she'd be happy to receive you there. I take it you're from the ministry then?"

Emmanuel was thrown left wing yet again, but gave no outward appearance of it. What could the woman mean interrogating him? He was the one here to root out the lies.

"I am, I met young Ronald here-"

"Now listen here. You're going to get up, and you're going to leave. You're the reason my son here has lost Hermione."

"- Mum, wait"

"You and your bloody Marriage law."

Emmanuel sat silent as the woman gathered speed. Ron had turned an awful shade of puce and was avoiding looking at him even from the corner of his eye

"Yes of course we know about it, you think with family in the ministry and friends in the Order of the Phoenix, your interfering laws would go unnoticed? Now I don't approve of our Hermione breaking things off with Ron but I'll be damned if you think you can come under my roof and try and weasel her out! Hermione has a full 30 days to come to her sense and you and your forsaken wizemagot cabinet have lost it if you think I could ever sell out someone I've treated as a daughter for nigh on 8 years. How dare you! Have you even considered the lives you'll be ripping apart? The children born into the homes of those who are still babes themselves?"

"-Mum, please"

Emmanuel swiftly stood and before the witch could react, disarmed her with a silent flick of his wrist. The boy stood gaping and in mere seconds, Emmanuel was clutching his wand along with his mothers. For good measure, he quickly cast a silencing charm to shut the shrew up before she got going again, and petrified her whelp. He was a tall, gangly thing, but Emmanuel doubted he'd be above muggle violence. With the room once again peaceful, Emanuel cast Homenum Revelio, and waited for the tell-tale glow of blue light. When it failed to appear Emmanuel scowled down at the two silent witnesses to his failure. The girl wasn't there after all. He knew something was off.

Perhaps the harridan had been right when she'd mentioned contacts in the Order and within the ministry itself. The girl must have been tipped off that her time was running out. Without bothering to remove the charms from the two Weasleys, he threw their wands to the far end of the lounge and stalked out of their pitiful house without a second glance. By the time the woman had freed her son and reclaimed that awful, awful screeching she was so fond off, he was on the boundary of the yard and promptly stepped into the pulling whirl of apparition.

There were only so many places she could hide. They had her blood now, and short of leaving the country; there was nowhere she could run. All Emmanuel had to do now was make sure she couldn't leave the country.


Minerva had been yelling from the grate for a good ten minutes before she gave up. Honestly. It was barely 6 o'clock and the man had probably drunken himself into a stupor. She knew the man was struggling to come to terms with all that had happened during the war, but there were limits. He was only hurting himself now, and frankly, Minerva knew she had to put a stop to it.

She just didn't know how.

Whatever camaraderie the pair had developed over the years as Hogwarts colleagues had been irreparable damaged by Albus' daft master plan. The dour wizard had forgiven her, and played her reaction down as 'necessary' but Minerva knew the man had been hurt by her lack of trust, and she could never properly forgive herself for that. The man had had few enough friends as it was, and to lose all of them, to become the figure they hated, the murderer of their mutual mentor, that had taken what little normalcy the mans life had left. No matter how many times the man waved away her apologies, Minerva could never seem to reclaim that easy banter they'd once held. It was only out of respect for the man that she refused to let her own hurt show- and so she mothered him and berated him and heckled him as she always had, and simply hoped, that given enough time, he would find a way to heal.

If anyone could, it was Severus.

Stepping through the man's narrow fireplace, she continued to holler his name, finding each of the Spartan rooms empty. Frowning, she drew her wand and continued through the house. Severus hadn't left his cottage for months, and it was unlike him to ignore her. Though he'd never admit it, he had begun to feel the true constraints of prolonged isolation and even their strained banter was welcome to him in a way it hadn't been only three of four months before hand. Giving up the bedroom and kitchen as equally empty, Minerva made her way downstairs. She'd only stepped foot in his labs once before, paranoid as he was with them, and it was with trepidation she approached the door now, uninvited as she was.

Pushing the door ajar, Minerva scanned the room, the magical lighting revealing the rows of benches and cabinets pressed against the walls and the three vast worktables in the middle of the room. There was a battered old radio sitting on one of the nearest benches and the room was filled with a soft soulful crooning. Ingredients and tools lined the worktable on the far left but for all the signs of activity, the snarky potions Master himself was still absent.

"Severus?"

"… oh for fucks sake."

It was the faintest mutter and Minerva barely heard it from the other side of the room, but there was no mistaking that particular tone- or the vocabulary for that matter. Rushing across the stone tiled lab, Minerva fell to her knees next to the ungracefully slumped figure of Severus Snape. In a pair of faded slacks and a plain black jumper, the man was nothing more than a heap of painful angles pressed against the leg of the huge wooden table.

"What on earth have you done, you foolish, foolish man?"

"Piss off."

Minerva knew he was in a bad shape when he failed to slap away her hands, and instead relented as she straightened him up into a sitting position, and quickly cast a rudimentary diagnostic charm. She had no real way with healing spells but many years of duty of care within a classroom let her know the warning signals shinning out nearly all over the mans thin frame.

"Leave it Minerva, I'll be fine in a moment or two." His voice was gruff as ever, but held the telltale signs of embarrassment. Enigmatic as the man tried to be, she'd known him since he was a scrawny 11-year-old boy, and had long ago learnt to read his tone.

"How long have you been on the floor, you miserable sod?"

The hacking cough produced at this endearment did more to scare her then anything so far. Oh Severus, you foolish boy.

"Charming."

"How long."

The man's sigh was irritable as he did his best to avoid her eye, focusing instead on his wand that lay on the floor a foot or so away.

"An hour or two."

"You couldn't move to reach your wand?"

"I couldn't move to sit up you interfering bloody woman. Get out. I don't need you fussing over me."

Tempted as Minerva was to simply levitate the frustrating man upstairs to the far more comfortable couch, she knew his pride would never allow it. She had learnt long ago not to push the man too far. Letting the silence grow between them, Minerva looked about the lab once more. Whatever the man was working on, she didn't recognise it- and considering she had gotten an Outstanding on her Potions newt and long stayed vaguely interested in her colleague's field, Minerva was forced to presume it was new research.

Severus hadn't investigated anything new for, well, not since working on Arthur Weasley's antidote at least. Minerva was overjoyed for a swift moment, before realising the toll it had obviously taken on the man now strewn across the cold stone floor.

"Is it from Nagini's bite?"

Even crumpled on the floor and in obvious pain, the man still managed to throw her a truly derisive eye roll. While she heard him mutter something under his breath about bleeding heart Gryffindor's, it was obvious he wasn't going to reply. Giving her own frustrated growl, Minerva proceeded to bury her head in her hands.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong this very minute I'll leave you where you are and send Poppy after you." The man's head spun around and shot her a truly venomous glare. "Don't think for a minute I wouldn't. Now what's wrong?"

"It's nothing to do with the damn snake." Severus' voice grew more and more haggard as he continued. "It's an after effect, from the Cruciatus. It's under control."

Minerva simply raised an eyebrow at his prone form on the floor, forcing him to clarify.

"There's a tonic I have to take, daily. My nervous system is completely redundant… and if I don't take the potion, I experience bouts of temporary paralysis."

"And you've told who about this condition! Severus! How long have you been like this?"

The man's jaw clenched and his eyes shuttered back into their locked occluded state. He was obviously done discussing his condition but Minerva refused to back down, waiting through the silence with her arms folded and her gaze cross.

"What difference does it make? I have the potion. I just haven't taken it since…" here he trailed off, as if troubled for a moment.

"What day is it?"

"Friday." Her lips pinched at the question, drawing even thinner than usual. "How long have you been down here?"

"A little over 24 hours. Give or take."

"What are you working on?" Minerva asked, frowning and looking at the contents strewn over the work table once more. Even as she surveyed the table top, she could see Severus' lips quirk in a frown out of the corner of her eye.

"None of your business. Fetch me the dark navy potion from the third cabinet over there- the round glass bottle."

With a sigh Minerva did as she was bid and brought the small bottle to his lips, only to have it snatched out of her hand. Obstinate man.

"There. I'll be fine in a few minutes." Setting the bottle aside, Severus attempted to hide the grimace of pain from his features, setting his jaw and clenching his knuckles. Giving it up as a loss, he turned to her and all but barked his next question.

"What brought you here anyway? What do you need, or am I to be convinced it was merely a social call?"

Minerva kept her gaze steady and refused to let either her pity or ire show on her face. She had come to ask him to brew Hogwarts a supply of contraceptive potions, but given his current state, she wasn't sure if that was wise after all. The man had been swept away simply by his research and look at the consequences. As droll as he intended to be about his circumstances, there was no denying the man was not the Potions Master he once was, and he obviously had a long way to go in the healing process. It was no matter. School didn't resume until September; she had more than enough time to find another potions master, or stock up on premade elixirs. No doubt they wouldn't be as good nor as cheap as what Severus could provide, but even as Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva refused to put a price on Severus' health. She was not Albus.

"It doesn't matter. Just an excuse to check up on you."

If the man knew she was lying, he failed to comment on it, and simply glowered at the floor, attempting to ignore the pain of feeling returning to his crumpled limbs.

"Well you've checked up on me. Now bugger off."

Minerva had barely opened her mouth to argue, to proclaim that she couldn't possibly leave him lying on his basements floor, when he interrupted.

"Please. Just leave."

Oh Severus. You stupid sod.

With a gentle nod, Minerva rose from the floor beside him and made her way up the stairs. She'd let the man have his damn forsaken pride and trust that he'd struggle on once more. After all, damaged as he was, that's one thing Severus had always managed to do- Survive.


A/N: I'm working off the back story for McGonagall that JKR put up on Pottermore, It's one of my favourite back stories and I really wish it had been included in the books, although I understand that given they were written from Harry's point of view, it would have been odd to bring up. Still, I went on a writing tangent and figured I might as well throw it in the chapter. As always your reviews make my day and help shape this story. (For instance: Should I just stick to Hermione/Snape point of views, or do you guys like little off shoots into the minor characters experiences? Let me know what you think)