Sorry - I was going to post but I didn't like the chapter so re-wrote it multiple times! Hope you enjoy it anyway!

31st June 1998

"I fought in the Great War, like your father too," Albert replied quietly. "1942 to 1945. Enlisted when I was 14."

Minerva slowed her pace as both she and Albert walked from the village to his and Pomona's small cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. They had just been to the shops to get a few last ingredients for dinner - Minerva had originally intended to only stay for lunch, but Grace had insisted that she stay for dinner as well.

"You must have looked old at fourteen to pass for a sixteen-year-old," she said.

Albert shrugged. "They were desperate for soldiers," he said, before frowning slightly. "I didn't know wizards fought in the war too."

"They might have," Minerva supposed. "But my father was not a wizard, Albert. He was a Presbyterian Minister in a small church in Caithness. He joined the war when he was sixteen and then—and then he met my mother a few years later in hospital. She was volunteering as a nurse."

Albert nodded silently. "I had nightmares for years afterwards," he said after a moment. "About what I did, about what others did and how—how others were affected by that."

The was a short pause. Minerva thought of the Second World War - she had been ten years old when it had ended. Her father had fought in both wars. Minerva remembered the day he had left in 1939, she had been young but she remembered being held by her father. He had kissed her on the head and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Minerva had given him her favourite toy, as a good luck charm. She still had it now, a little crocheted cat.

He had returned properly in 1945 - thinner, greyer, and quieter. Minerva remembered seeing him walk down the path to their house. They had all run out of the house, all the children and Isobel. Isobel had burst into tears and so had Robert. It was the first time Minerva had ever seen him cry.

And then, no one spoke about it - the times her father had become so nervous that his hands shook on his knees, or when he had gone deathly white when a loud bang had sounded inside or outside of the house. So many of the men had not returned from the front and their absence in the village was felt by all but the topic skirted around.

Minerva cleared her throat lightly. Forty years later, thereabouts, she found herself thinking more of her father and how much of what she had not understood then, she could now.

"My father was the same," she said quietly. "And—and I can understand that too."

"The guilt?"

There was another pause and Minerva nodded silently as Albert took another drag of his pipe - his hands were shaking, Minerva noticed.

"Yes," she said. She thought of Colin Creevey, and all the other children who had died the previous month, and brought her hand to her chest.

"I came home yesterday after work and went into the kitchen," Albert began. "When I closed the door Pomona let out a strangled cry and five of our lightbulbs burst."

"That—can happen," Minerva said measuredly. "It would not have been on purpose—"

"—I know," Albert said hurriedly. "My God, Minerva, I don't want you to think—I know that," he said, and he passed his hands over his face, his eyes, before turning to face Minerva again. "I don't know what to do. I want to help but I don't know what happened or what she went through because—because I'm not like you."

"I think—I think Albert you already know. Magic or not magic what happens in these situations is the same." Minerva looked away and rubbed her chest gently. "Pomona will need time," she said. "And she will just need you to be there for her."

They continued their walk up the hill and Minerva felt her cheeks flush and her heart flutter rapidly in her chest. She closed her eyes momentarily and felt the familiar pains in her chest and hip return.

Albert's hand was on her elbow in an instant - gently he took one of the shopping bags. "Shall we take a pause?"

"No." Minerva opened her eyes and tried to ignore her aches for a moment. It was difficult, but Albert's support was helpful and made it more manageable for her to straighten. "No, thank you, Albert," she repeated, a little breathless. "Besides, we are almost there."

He nodded and they continued up the hill. He kept his arm looped around hers until they reached the top of the hill and iron gate outside his and Pomona's cottage. Grace and Pomona could be seen in the front window, rolling pastry and laughing together.

Pomona looked up and smiled at Minerva and Albert walking up the path. She looked tired, Minerva noticed, a little strained too. But her smile was genuine.

"I can't thank you enough for keeping Grace safe, Minerva," Albert said. And Minerva returned her attention to her current walking, and shopping, partner of the day. "We will never be able to repay you. Ever."

"It's the least I could do, Albert," she said quietly, as they finally reached the front door and came to a stop. She smiled. "Shall we go in?"

He nodded and opened the door. "After you," he said, and Minerva entered the house.

"I was thinking of asking Filius to be Deputy."

"Oh, that's an idea," Pomona said. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of her armchair, looking comfortable and completely at ease. "He's a nice man, Filius. He looked after me well when we were seeing each other."

Minerva's jaw dropped. "Pardon me?"

Pomona's eyes opened wide and she put a hand in front of her mouth as she suddenly realised what she had done. "Oh my!" she said, looking both horrified but also amused at the same time. "Did I let the cat out of the bag?"

"You most certainly did! You're the mysterious witch Filius was seeing for a year?"

Pomona blushed bright red. "Oh, don't tell anyone, Minerva, please! We promised each other never to tell anyone else because we'd never hear the end of it at school."

Minerva laughed as the pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle began to click together again in her mind — Pomona's odd Herbology lectures late Friday evening that always seemed to coincide with Filius' mysteriously long walks during the 50s.

"Gracious me—and you were the one calling me the dark horse earlier because I went on a day trip with a boy from my village."

"It wasn't a day trip, and well you know it, Minerva McGonagall. You and that boy had a date and went to the—oh, what-do-you-call-it… Moving photographs?"

Minerva laughed. "The pictures—at least, that's what they were called in the 50s. I believe they call it the cinema now. Moving photographs… "

"Don't tease," Pomona said, reaching over to hit Minerva lightly on the arm. "That's just mean."

"I'm sorry," Minerva said, though she was smiling. "I'm still reeling from the fact that my closest friend and Filius' mysterious woman are one and the same."

Pomona rolled her eyes. "It wasn't for very long. We very quickly realised we were just friends and parted ways very amicably. For which I am very glad," Pomona said, pointedly. "And then I met Albert and the rest is history—as they say." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "40 years and all it takes is a few glasses of wine for me to blab. Is muggle wine stronger than ours or am I just getting old?"

Minerva bit back a smile. She and Pomona had steadily been making their way through a bottle of wine ever since they had settled in Pomona's living room and Albert and Grace had gone out.

Minerva could not remember the last time the two of them had enjoyed some time together, to talk about something or nothing, without needing to worry about current events, student welfare, or having their home broken into.

The living room was cosy, and both she and Pomona were settled comfortably in armchairs, warm and relaxed, and content - although Pomona was a little more embarrassed than she had been a few minutes previously.

"Definitely the former," Minerva said seriously, making Pomona laugh. She picked up the bottle. "Top up? There's only a little left."

Pomona half shrugged, half nodded, which Minerva took to be a yes. She filled Pomona's glass, topped up her own, then leaned back in her chair. All in all, it had been a good day.