I promise only one more chapter before September 1st!
13 July 1996
Minerva entered the staffroom, walking stick in one hand, handbag in the other, and a stack of parchments floating in behind her. After a few weeks of taking the potions Poppy had given her, Minerva was already starting to feel improvements. Her joints did not ache as much, her heart did not race as much, and best of all, Minerva had noticed that her periods of dizziness were reducing. Though they were not entirely gone.
Despite the good news, however, Minerva's mood had not improved. Although grateful that finally, it appeared as though she was on the mend, Minerva was still not feeling quite as happy as she ought to. Over the last few weeks, he relationship with Albus had grown rather strained, which frustrated her greatly, as Minerva greatly valued her friendship with Albus. Nevertheless, ever since he had returned injured from his mysterious trip, the amount of time Minerva and Albus spent together had significantly decreased.
Not only that, but Minerva had noticed Albus be more withdrawn, or rather more secretive. Although Minerva was used to Albus keeping information from her, this time it felt different and to a much larger extent. He spoke to Severus more, he never really answered her questions, and his hand still looked as dreadful as it had when Minerva had found him slumped against the wall in the middle of the night. She felt like she was being shafted to one side.
She tutted, not for the first time that day, and shook her head. She felt like a child, dwelling over such matters in this way. Yet, no matter how much she tried, she could not push these thoughts out of her mind. Ultimately, she missed spending time with Albus and she wanted to help her friend. However, she was also too furious with him to consider initiating a conversation with him just yet. Indeed, after their rather snappy interaction over the weekend, they had both been avoiding each other. Or maybe only she had been avoiding him, Minerva thought to herself with a roll of the eyes.
Their argument had begun over something as trivial as timetables if she recalled correctly. Not really sure how it had happened, the argument had quickly progressed to cover topics such as Albus' injury, his secrecy, and Minerva's recovery or rather whether she was indeed recovered. It was the last point that had really made Minerva particularly cross. After 40 years working together as colleagues, Minerva had thought that Albus would not trust her judgement as well as the judgement of several Healers at St Mungo's.
All in all, things were said. Minerva regretted some of the things she had said, and she was sure that Albus regretted some of the things he had said too. But the words were now out in the open and, stubborn as they both were, they had still not yet made up.
It would teach them not to have disagreements when they were both tired, and Minerva already irritable - as she had been that weekend.
"Morning!"
"Oh!" Minerva's hand flew to her chest and, now no longer concentrating on keeping up the levitation spell, the parchments behind her came crashing to the floor. "Pomona are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she said, massaging her chest, then turning and clicking her fingers so that her fallen papers soared back up to form a tidy pile. she tutted frustratedly, realising that her papers were no longer in the organised pile she had spent a long time composing.
"Sorry," Pomona said apologetically. "I can assure you that I am not. I should have given you more of a warning," she added. "You're up early?"
"I can say the same for you," Minerva pointed out, putting her files down on a table and sitting down opposite her friend by the empty fireplace. "Shouldn't you be at home with your family?" she added, now taking the topmost file and opening it.
"Albert is playing something called a video game with Grace," Pomona said, looking a bit puzzled. Minerva recalled that Pomona and Albert had only just got a television installed in their small cottage. Clearly, Pomona still did not yet understand video games - not that Minerva could shed much light on the matter either; she did not own a television and neither did any of her family members. "Anyway, they were both being exceedingly loud and I needed some peace and quiet while I finished some work."
Minerva frowned. "It's the holidays," she said.
"Yes, it is," Pomona replied. "So, what on earth is it that you have there?" she added, raising a finger to point at the files. "I'm only working on some lesson planning."
Minerva sighed. "Only, some terribly interesting papers," she replied tiredly, placing the heavy stack on the table with a gentle thud. "That largely consist of timetables that I need to sort out for the new sixth years," she replied. "And then adverts I need to send to the Prophet."
"For a new Defence teacher?" Pomona asked.
Minerva nodded tiredly. "Indeed," she said. "Tea?"
"Oh, might as well. I might even stay for lunch too," Pomona added. "We can have a study day," she added with a smile.
Minerva rolled her eyes, though she smiled slightly too. Pomona always seemed to have a knack for making her smile even when she was in a terrible mood like today. "Earl Grey?"
"Please," Pomona replied.
Minerva nodded and flicked her wand so that tea-things assembled themselves on a tray, which then floated to the table Minerva and Pomona were sitting around. They sat there working silently for almost an hour until their peace was disturbed by someone entering the staffroom.
Pomona was the first to look up. "Good morning, Headmaster," she said politely. "Good weekend?"
"I have had better," Albus replied. His eyes then flicked to Minerva who unfortunately looked up at the exact same moment. Their eyes locked, and Minerva then swiftly looked away again. "Good morning, Professor McGonagall."
"Good morning, Headmaster," Minerva replied a little stiffly.
An awkward silence then filled the air, and Pomona, clearly uncomfortably, cleared her throat. "Care to join us, Albus?" she asked.
He shook his head apologetically. "I thank you for the kind offer, Pomona, but I am afraid I cannot stay for long." He then turned to Minerva, looking at her expectantly or hopefully - Minerva was not quite sure. "Professor McGonagall, if I may have a word?" he asked.
Minerva put down her files and got up from her seat. "Certainly, Headmaster," she said, coming towards him.
"I would like to make you aware that I have found a replacement for the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor," he informed her once she was close enough. "And the Potions master position," he added.
Minerva quirked an eyebrow. "I do not recall Severus mentioning that he was leaving us," she said, now frowning slightly. "Unless..." Albus nodded and a stony expression settled across Minerva's features. "You have taken things into your own hands," she said stiffly, thinking of the adverts she had spent the whole of this morning drafting and multiplying, as well as the promise he had made to her only last week. "I see. Is there anything else you wish to inform me of?"
"I have made a list of families we need to visit to prepare for our new first year," he said. "If you feel well enough–"
Minerva shot him a dark look. "I believe I can manage," she interrupted him quietly. She held out her hand and Albus silently gave her several pieces of parchment. At the same time as Minerva, Albus waved his hand and produced a green ribbon; the exact same shade as the one Minerva had also just produced. They looked up at each other for a moment, before Minerva then looked away and tied the files together with the ribbon she had produced.
"I will see that it is done," she said before clearing her throat. "Can I help you with anything else, Headmaster?" she asked.
Albus seemed to pause, unsure as to what to say, or where to start. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I believe that is all, Professor McGonagall."
Minerva suppressed a sigh. "Then, I shall bid you a good day, Headmaster" she added, nodding curtly in his direction before then leaving to join Pomona again.
Pomona looked at Minerva when the familiar sound of the door closing behind Dumbledore, echoed across the small room.
"What is it?" Minerva asked, feeling Pomona's eyes on her, and looking up at her friend.
"What on earth was that?" Pomona said.
Minerva pursed her lips and began to shuffle some papers. She knew exactly what Pomona was referring to, however, she did not want to discuss it.
"I don't know what you mean," she said.
Pomona rolled her eyes. "Yes, you do," she said. "I don't know what it is you and Albus have argued about, but you are both creating a mood."
"A mood?" Minerva repeated, unconvinced.
"You heard me," Pomona nodded. "The tension in the air just now was palpable. Couldn't you just speed things along so that you make up now? You always do in the end."
Minerva snapped an elastic band around some of her files and placed them on top of some others. "We are not fighting," she replied, a little more sharply than necessary. "Albus and I are on perfectly good terms."
"Are you?"
"Yes," Minerva insisted firmly. "Now, could we please stop discussing the imaginary argument between Albus and I?"
Pomona held her gaze. "All right," she finally said, though from her expression it was clear she did not believe Minerva's words. "I will say no more on the topic."
Minerva nodded. "Thank you."