Sorry, this is so short (and late!). I have been really very busy :/ I promise that the next chapter is more substantial!

3 May 1998

"Is this all right?"

Malcolm stepped aside so that Minerva could see the room he and Helen had prepared. The bed was made and floral curtains were drawn so that the warm glow of the afternoon sun filled the guest room. There was a small wooden wardrobe, a table, a chair, and a chest of drawers in the bedroom. A framed photograph of the McGonagall family, sat on top of the drawers, Isobel sitting front and centre with her grandchildren beaming on either side of her. Minerva recalled that Elphinstone had taken the photograph.

Minerva cleared her throat. "Yes," she said, a little hoarsely. She cleared her throat. "Yes, it's fine—more than fine, thank you."

Malcolm pulled her in for a hug. He held her tight against him, and Minerva heard him sniff. She could not remember the last time she had heard Malcolm cry. When their mother had died, she thought. It made tears well in her eyes too, but she blinked them away. She knew that if she let them fall she would not be able to stop for quite some time.

"I'm glad you're back, Minerva," he said quietly, his voice slightly choked. "I can't believe we were all asleep in our beds while you were out there—"

"I am fine, Malcolm," Minerva cut in. They broke apart and she kissed his cheek and reached out to hold his hands. "You couldn't have known. But I am glad you came as soon as you find out what had happened."

"Of course, Minerva." He sniffed. "You were all anyone ever thought about this year. After Robert..."

He trailed away and both were silent again at the mention of their brother who had been killed, along with his wife, during the First Wizarding War.

"If you need anything—"

"I will ask," Minerva finished, and she smiled slightly and squeezed his hand.

Malcolm nodded and then moved to the door. There was so much they were leaving unsaid; what had Hogwarts been like that over the last few months, what had happened during the battle, and what was going to happen now? But Minerva did not want to talk about it yet, not until she had at least processed some of the events first herself. Malcolm seemed to understand that because he did not push.

"I'll come with you to the castle tomorrow," he said. "I'm sure you could use the help. I promise I'll do as I am told, Professor McGonagall."

Minerva smiled slightly. "Cheeky," she said. "I did not know you were keen to re-live your days as my student again."

"You only taught me for two years," Malcolm replied. He looked relieved to see her smile. "You'll find I'm much the same. With the exception, of course, that I'm a better listener now. No more teenage angst."

Minerva laughed - she could not remember the last time she had done so. "I should hope not," she said. "Thank you, Malcolm."

"We really should be thanking you, Minerva," he said. "I'll leave you to it then. Goodnight, Minerva."

"Night, Malcolm."

"Rosie, don't do it! Don't do it, Rosie! No—"

There was a loud bang and Minerva jumped, her hand automatically scrambling for her wand on the bedside table. But a peel of giggles from the living room alerted her to the fact that her great nieces and nephews were only playing games - a game of exploding snap, it sounded like.

Minerva took a deep breath in and tried to calm herself down. She relaxed again against her pillow and closed her eyes. But it was no use. Her heart was still beating wildly against her ribcage, and the sun beaming through the lace curtains and beating down on her closed eyelids, forced them open again.

Hogwarts was waiting for her. Reparations had to begin, and she needed to speak with Kinglsey about Miss Granger and all many other students. A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach at this last thought: the students. Her students. How come she, an old woman who had already lived a long life, had survived this ordeal while others much younger than her, and whose whole lives had been waiting for them, had not?

"Indoor voices, girls," Helen said briskly from the hallway. Minerva was distracted momentarily from her thoughts when she heard Helen's slippered feet walk to the living room when Meg and Rosie were no doubt playing.

"We couldn't help it, granny," chorused the two girls earnestly.

"Well do please try," Helen reprimanded them gently. "Your aunt is still trying to rest, and your grandpa is trying to listen to the news. You know his hearing isn't as good as it used to be."

"It is good enough to hear you from the kitchen, darling," came Malcolm's amused voice.

Helen tutted, though from all the years she had known Helen, Minerva was certain that she was in the least bit miffed. If anything, Helen was most likely smiling slightly, and her cheeks had probably gone a little pink.

"Don't you know that it's rude to eavesdrop, Malcolm McGonagall!"

Helen's receding steps back to the kitchen motivated Minerva to get up. It was well past 8, and she felt guilty for having stayed in bed until such a time - usually she was up and dressed by 6.30 am.

With a modicum of difficulty, she eased herself out of bed and put on a new set of robes Helen had found for her. She had a long day ahead of her.