15 July 1996
It was a few weeks into the summer holidays and Minerva, as per Malcolm and Helen's request, was staying with her brother and sister-in-law in Caithness. She had been there for almost a week so far, and slowly she was recuperating from her ordeal. Her chest still hurt, she still could not walk completely unaided, and a strange series of fainting spells had overcome her these last few days — though that was not information she was willing to share with anyone, aside from Healers, as of yet.
Currently, it was late afternoon and Minerva had gone outside into the garden for a bit of fresh air. She wanted to try and forget a little bit about her injuries and what had happened in the last few weeks. So, closing her eyes, Minerva tried to enjoy the soft breeze and smell of freshly mowed lawn and flowers. It was not long before she was disturbed.
"Yes, Malcolm?" she said after a minute, sensing that her brother was beside her.
"How did you know it was me?" said Malcolm.
Minerva opened her eyes and raised her hand to shield them from the sun as she looked up at him. She shrugged. "Intuition."
"Hm," he said. "Can I join you?"
She nodded and moved so that there was space on the bench for him to sit. The movement caused her heart to flutter and a sharp pain to run along her hip. However, she gave no indication that she was uncomfortable.
"Helen is making an apple tart."
"Her famous apple tart?" Minerva said.
Malcolm smiled. "It's a special occasion," he said. "It's not often that we have the whole family together."
Minerva nodded. "Indeed," she said quietly, observing a small robin land lightly on a branch of the tree in front of her. She heard Malcolm sigh beside her and immediately she knew what the next part of the conversation would entail. Her brother was an easy person to read, particularly when he was worried or upset.
Minerva's suspicions were confirmed when Malcolm cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.
"Much better," Minerva replied, though not entirely truthfully. There were days where she felt fine, but others where she felt terrible. Today seemed to be a middling day — not quite ill enough to feel drained just by sitting up, but not quite well enough to successfully ignore the pains in her chest, hip, and head.
Minerva did not tell Malcolm all of this, however. Mainly because she hated it when people fussed over her like she knew he would if she told him. She also believed it useless to make him worry over something he had no control over.
"I will be returning to Hogwarts next week," she added, deciding it was also best to tell her brother this now.
As she expected, Malcolm sat up a little straighter — clearly wanting to argue.
"Albus needs some help with—"
"Dumbledore is not the only one who needs you, Minerva," he cut in.
Minerva sighed. "Malcolm I am not leaving immediately," she told him calmly. "But I will need to go back at some point so that I can do my job. I can only claim so many holiday days a year."
"Then sick leave—"
"But I am not sick, Malcolm," Minerva interrupted with a note of finality. Indeed, she was finding it hard not to let her frustration show. She wanted this to be the end of the conversation. She had dealt enough with people asking her how she was. She knew it came from a good place, however, she did not enjoy having her private life questioned. Nor did she enjoy being reminded of how vulnerable she had been and still was to some extent.
"What if you don't go back?" Malcolm said quietly. "Seriously," he added, turning to face her when she scoffed. "Just stay here."
"Malcolm I have a job," Minerva said incredulously. "A job that I happen to enjoy. Besides, my home is at Hogwarts."
"Your home could be here," Malcolm suggested. "You could stay with us," he said. "We'd look after you."
"Look after me?" Minerva raised an eyebrow.
"No." Malcolm closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. "No, that's not what I meant," he said. "I mean...there's the cottage on the McGregor's farm that's for sale. You could leave Hogwarts and move here. Maybe even retire—"
Minerva shook her head, stopping him in his tracks. "I will not be moving to live on a farm, Malcolm," she told him abruptly. "I will not be retiring either," she added more softly.
Her words were followed by a long pause.
After a moment, Malcolm cleared his throat. "Minerva, things are different now," he began quietly. "You-Know-Who is back, and you were attacked whilst at Hogwarts. Wouldn't it be best if we all tried to stay together? Isobel and Julian are moving back to Caithness too... Will you at least consider it, Minerva?"
He looked at her expectantly, but Minerva shook her head.
"My place is at Hogwarts, Malcolm," she insisted.
Malcolm opened his mouth to argue but the sound of running feet coming from behind them made him stop.
"Rarr!"
Minerva and Malcolm turned and made out to be surprised to see 3-year-old Rosie standing behind them; 6-year-old Megan running closely behind.
"Good heavens, you really gave us quite a fright," Minerva said dramatically, putting her hand on her chest.
The two girls giggled.
"Gran says dinner is ready," Meg said, pointing back at the house with one hand; the other clasping Rosie's small one. "There's cake," she whispered afterwards, her eyes twinkling in the way a child's did when they were very excited. "And ice cream."
"Well, we certainly can't miss that," Malcolm said. "Tell Gran we're on our way."
Meg nodded. "Come on, Rosie," she said, tugging Rosie's hand gently, then hurrying back up the small grassy hill to the house.
Malcolm smiled, though it faltered slightly when he turned to Minerva. "Minerva—"
"Malcolm, I know what you are going to say," she cut in gently. She wasn't annoyed, just tired. "And I only do because I know you, and because I have thought of exactly the same things you are telling me myself. Believe it or not," she added, with a gentle, sad smile. "But I do know what I am doing."
"You do have a track history, Minerva, of never asking for help," Malcolm said, though he didn't pause long enough to give Minerva the time to reply. "We just worry about you. After what happened—and then with Robert not being here..."
He trailed away at the mention of their brother. Minerva nodded gently. "I know," she said. "But I did not come here for advice, Malcolm. Or only to recuperate. I came because I wanted to see my family, and that is all. Might we keep it that way?"
Malcolm was silent for a moment, then he shook his head and cleared his throat. "'Course," he said huskily. He then managed a smile and stood up. "I think we best get a move on. I wouldn't be surprised if the sprogs aren't already getting second-helpings to the apple tart," he added, holding out his arm for her.
Minerva smiled. "I think you may be right in that regard."
She sighed then accepted his arm and allowed him to help her up. She paused for a moment to regain her breath, then straightened. All the while Malcolm had kept a supportive hand on her arm.
"All good?"
"Yes, yes," Minerva breathed, a little impatiently. Then, she looked up and caught his eye. "Thank you," she added, her expression softening.
Malcolm merely nodded. "Shall we?"
She nodded and together they walked up the hill.
