A Long Time Ago

[dianahawthorne]

Prologue


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Disclaimer (applies to the entire story): I don't own anything.


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Seventeen.

That age when everything seemed to fall into place. School was finished, she had received a prestigious job offer, and she was in love, in love with the boy she had dated for the past three years.

They planned to marry in a year, when they were eighteen and old enough not to need her parents’ permission. They didn’t want her to marry him, felt that he was nothing more than someone looking to get her money, someone wanting to use her family name to gain power.

They were right.

***

He left her two years after they were married, when she was expecting a baby. And, after he left, she couldn’t remember anything for those next seven months. She was told, later, that she was found wandering the streets, crying for her lost child. He told her that.

***

She was still beautiful then, with long dark hair and skin as pale as the moon. That is why he had loved her, even though she was a Gryffindor. But when, seven months after he’d left, she started to remember things again, her beauty was fading. And now, at seventy-three, her beauty was nothing more than a memory.

Yes, it had been a long time since she was beautiful.

[mmadforever]

Can't wait for the next chapter. This beginning was so sad, though! Well...it is in angst.

[dianahawthorne]

June, 1943


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“Tom!” she called out delightedly as she ran towards him, long dark hair streaming down her back. He turned, a rare smile on his features, as he stopped so that she could catch up with him. When she reached him she slowed, became calmer, and slipped her arm through his proffered one.

They were the handsomest students in the school, and both of them, especially Tom, were aware of that fact. Both tall, dark-haired, and graceful, they made a remarkably lovely picture as they strolled down the grounds toward the Lake.

‘Lovely’ was not a word one normally used to describe Tom. Handsome, certainly; cold, yes; Slytherin, definitely... warm words like ‘lovely’ were very rarely used. But he was different around Minerva – loving, tender almost. Almost, because there was still an element of cold calculation in his interactions with her – at least the public ones. When he was alone with her, however, the coldness seemed to melt away. Certainly he was not the ideal man, but Minerva was practical. Where would she find a better man – smart, hard-working, handsome – and, if she did, would she love him like she loved Tom?

They reached their favourite spot, a large oak tree near the shores of the Lake, and settled down against it. She rested her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her slender waist.

“Tomorrow we graduate,” he said, his voice holding a trace of regret.

Her eyes were closed as she nodded, moving closer to him.

“It’s too bad you won’t reconsider joining the Aurors,” Minerva said, bringing up a rather sore point with them. Everything would be perfect, she thought, if only he would give up his rather foolish quest for his family’s lost heirlooms. Even if they did still exist, it would be nearly impossible for even Minerva’s considerable amount of wealth to reclaim. She didn’t want to think about any other methods he had for attaining them...

“You know my feelings about this, Min,” he said, “I need to do this.”

She sighed but dropped the subject, not wanting to get into a fight today, their last full day at Hogwarts. She closed her eyes once more and tried to put her frustration with him out of her mind.

“I can make quite a lot of money with the shop,” he said. That was how he referred to Borgin & Burkes, as ‘the shop’, in order not to arouse suspicion with the other inhabitants of the castle. “And you know I’m good at... persuasion. They’ve promised me twenty percent of any item I sell. And then,” he said, knowing he would win her silence on this matter for a few months, at least, “we can get married all the sooner.”

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and, for the time being, the matter if his future career was put out of her mind.

They sat there, Tom gently kissing the back of her neck, until it was time for dinner.

***

Late that night, Minerva, who was a rather light sleeper, was awoken by an owl tapping at the window. She opened the heavy glass to allow the owl entrance; it dropped off its letter and flew off without waiting for a treat. The letter was thick, heavy parchment, unblemished but for her lover’s name on the envelope. Despite its lack of a seal, she could feel powerful protection charms emanating from it, preventing its opening by anyone but Tom.

“Tom,” she whispered, shaking his shoulder. He stirred, groaning as she woke him from a deep sleep.

“What, Min?” he snapped groggily.

“There’s an Owl for you,” she whispered, handing him the letter.

He grabbed his wand and murmured “Lumos”, before leaving the room to read the letter. She pulled one of the sheets off his bed, wrapping it around her body, and moved to the window. Their tower was just above the Lake here, the Head Boy and Girl’s chambers being separate from the other Houses’ dormitories.

As she stared out the window into the deep Lake beneath, she felt a pang of longing for Hogwarts, although she had not yet left. Later today she would be gone from these walls forever – but she would be leaving for something better.

And in a year they would be married... married. It was such a foreign concept to her. Her own parents had never had a strong marriage, with many affairs on both sides, and the idea of having a husband who would love and respect her had been nothing she had ever considered for herself. But then she met Tom...

Yes, Tom was often cruel, calculating, cunning, but with her she felt he was really himself. And she loved him, had loved him since she was fourteen. Maybe they would be happy – they had been happy, after all, for three years now.

The door opened; he returned. Joining her on the windowsill, he pulled away her sheet and laid her down on the windowsill. He smiled against her skin as she twined her fingers in his hair.

***

“Minerva McGonagall!” Albus Dumbledore called out her name, and she stood up to receive her diploma to thunderous applause. Her parents were there, surprisingly, though they were seated near the back. She noticed that, as soon as her name was called, they stood up to make a discreet exit.

Albus embraced her, whispering in her ear, “Remember – if you are ever in any trouble, come back to Hogwarts.” She nodded and broke away, trying futilely to stem the tears now coursing down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Tom was frowning. He had never liked Minerva’s close association with Dumbledore, but at least they would never have to see him again.

“Tom Riddle,” read Albus from his list of graduates, his voice mixed disapproval and relief. He handed Tom the diploma and shook his hand stiffly, while Tom smirked. When he rejoined his fellow classmates, he let his hand slide along Minerva’s waist, causing her to shiver with desire.

Only a bit longer, she thought. Only a bit longer...

Six hours later, sprawled atop the bed sheets in their new flat, Minerva examined her new engagement ring. They had been unofficially engaged for the past year, however, Tom had not thought to provide her with a symbol of their engagement.

“I’ve been saving for it, Min,” he said, slipping the diamond onto her finger. She smiled happily, the diamond glinting in the light.

“And we’ll be married this time next year?” she asked.

He nodded. “This time next year.”

She smiled.

[Sparrabether]

Poor Min! She's so happy and I just know it's going to end badly for her. (Well obviously, as it's in the Angst section...) This fic is really good and I'm looking forward to the next chapter. *hint* *hint*

[Phantomgirl817]

Great story!!! I wonder what happens next?

[tupelohoney]

Oh, I love it! Poor Min though...can't wait for the next part...

[dianahawthorne]

April, 1945

“You’re not going to harm a Dark wizard with a Disarming spell!” Edgar Bones, the Auror in charge of training new recruits, shouted. “Use real spells! You’re not at Hogwarts anymore, you’re on the battlefield!”

Minerva circled Alastor Moody, cat-like reflexes evident in her graceful movements. He circled her as well, his beady eyes watching her every move. As she cast a Stunner with her wand, she used her left hand to cast a wandless, non-verbal, Expelliarmus. Alastor Moody’s wand flew out of his hand and she caught it neatly in hers.

Turning to Edgar Bones, she suppressed a grin at his red face. Obviously, he was embarrassed at her triumph over one of their best Aurors, especially using a spell he had deemed not powerful enough.

“That’s enough for today,” Edgar said gruffly. “You’re dismissed.” As Minerva joined the rest of her fellow Aurors-in-training, he called after her. “McGonagall, a word?”

She turned around and nodded, approaching him. He waited until the last few trainees had left before closing the door.

“We need someone to go to the front lines,” he explained. “I know you’re not finished with your training, but you’re an Animagus, and one of the best duellers we have. We need you to fight.”

“I’ll do it,” she said, without a moment’s hesitation. “When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow evening,” he replied. “That should give you enough time to get ready.”

She nodded in agreement. “Where should I report?”

“Hogwarts,” he said, “You’ll be going by Portkey with Albus Dumbledore.”

She nodded again, pleased that she would once more see her favourite Professor. But she was not looking forward to returning home – Tom would be quite angry.



He was sprawled out on their sofa, studying a rather old tome, when she Apparated into the house.

“Tom, we need to talk,” she said, and he looked up from his reading.

“Yes, Min?”

She sat down next to him as he set the book aside, taking his hand in hers. Their matching wedding bands gave a slight clink as they connected with each other.

“Tom, I’m going to the front lines tomorrow evening,” she said. “Auror Bones insisted that I go.”

He looked at her, utterly shocked. “What? But you’re not even fully trained yet! What are they thinking, sending you off like that?”

“I have to go,” she said, “I’m an Animagus, and I’m one of the best duellers the Ministry has. I can’t let them down.”

“But, Min...”

She cut him off. “There’s not use arguing with me, Tom, I’ve made up my mind. Professor Dumbledore needs my help.”

He sneered. “Oh, Professor Dumbledore needs your help! Then you must go, mustn’t you? You mustn’t let dear old Albus down!”

“Shut up!” she yelled. “Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean that I have to despise him too! He needs my help, Tom – the whole Wizarding world does. I love you, but I can’t forgo my duty just because I don’t want to leave you!”

“I won’t let you go!” he shouted, standing up. She looked up at him in surprise. “You can’t go; I forbid it!”

“Who are you to forbid me?” she shouted back.

“Your husband! Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Does the fate of the Wizarding world mean nothing to you?” she countered angrily. “Tom, I’ve got to do this!”

He slapped her, hard, across the face, and she raised one tentative hand to her cheek, feeling the welt that had already begun to form. “How dare you,” she whispered. “How dare you.” She stormed out of the room and quickly began to pack the things she needed for her assignment. After her packing was complete, she Apparated to Hogsmeade, not bothering to bid her husband farewell.



How could she do this to him? Didn’t she know it was dangerous? And what if she didn’t return – where would his plans be then? She was to be his consort, his right hand, but now... she was showing her alliance to the Light too clearly. He had thought that, with time, she could be persuaded to see his point of view, but now, with that rather vehement outburst, he realised it was futile.

Perhaps, if she returned, she would see the errors of her ways. Perhaps the carnage and destruction that the Light had wrought would be enough for her to see her folly. He could only hope...



She had Apparated to Hogsmeade and began the long walk to the castle. It was chilly outside, as it was October, but she did not feel the cold.

How dare he! How dare he hit her! Minerva gently felt the bruise he had left on her cheek. He was not in charge of her, he was not her lord and master – they were married, they were supposed to be partners! Maybe her parents had been right – maybe he had just been using her for money and sex.

But she couldn’t believe that. No, he did love her, not just for her money. He must...

She didn’t know if she could return to him, after her mission was finished. She was never one to suffer fools lightly, and manhandling her was certainly foolish of Tom. She had thought they would have a strong, loving marriage, had not thought that he would ever hurt her...

He had been so angry with her! Why? He had always encouraged her in her ambitions as an Auror, always been nothing but supportive. He’d practised duelling with her for hours, helping her to hone her skills. He had even taught her how to cast wandlessly and non-verbally while simultaneously with her wand. Was he just scared to lose her, and not angry? Or was he angry because she would be with Professor Dumbledore?

She couldn’t understand him. Yes, he should be worried about her safety, but not angry because she was doing what had to be done! She needed to do this – she couldn’t let Grindelwald win, not when she might have a chance to stop him!

Reaching the gates, she laid her hand on the iron bars. They glowed green for a moment before swinging open to allow her entrance.

For the first time in two years, she stepped onto the familiar grounds of Hogwarts. And, as she walked up to the great front doors, she saw the person she had come to see.

“Fancy seeing you here, Miss McGonagall.”

[tupelohoney]

YAY! Signed on just in time to read the next part, can't wait to find out what happens next!

[McGonagallsGirl]

can't wait for Albus to weigh in on that mark on her cheek

--MG

[dianahawthorne]

May, 1945


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They’d been firmly ensconced in the front lines for a month now, biding their time. It was almost over – the Muggle war had ended a few days previous – and all that remained was the final confrontation with Grindelwald.

Albus (for he had insisted that Minerva now call him by his first name) and Minerva spent those long days leading up to their final confrontation in duelling practise and playing chess. She hadn’t had much time to think of Tom – hadn’t really wanted to – but she knew that she would have to go back to him when her mission was finished.

Unknown to the rest of the party, she was pregnant. Having just discovered it herself, she was loath to disclose her condition to even Albus, knowing he would send her home. And she couldn’t allow that – they needed her, and she needed to help to make the world safe for her child.

And she didn’t know how Tom would feel about the baby, didn’t know if he really wanted children. He’d always avoided that particular subject in such a devious way – Salazar Slytherin would have been proud.

Her condition wasn’t yet obvious, and would not be for at least two months more, but she would take as much care as possible to make sure no-one discovered her secret – especially not Tom, nor Albus.

***

He hadn’t Owled her since she had left him that night, hadn’t even made inquires as to her status. He was still angry with her, and absolutely furious that she was with Dumbledore. He didn’t want his wife to be hanging around him any more than necessary, and accompanying him on this mission definitely did NOT count as necessary.

He hated to admit it, but he regretted his actions. Perhaps she could have been persuaded to stay if only he had not hit her. Or, perhaps, he would have had time to place her under the Imperius curse.

He had made a mistake with his wife, had underestimated her, but would not do so again.

***

Albus was well-aware of her pregnancy, had noticed the subtle changes in her behaviour and the way she carried herself. He was very skilled in reading human behaviour, and besides that, he was a Legilimens. He did not like invading the privacy of her mind, but he knew something was worrying her. And so he subtly pried into her mind, searching for what had caused her change in behaviour.

What he had found shocked him.

His prize student getting slapped around by Tom Riddle? It infuriated him, so much so that he wanted to Apparate to his house and kill him, slowly, with his bare hands. How could he treat her like that? And how could Minerva have fallen for his lies?

He knew they had been seeing each other when they were at Hogwarts, but he thought their relationship ended when they graduated. Apparently not.

He was horrified that they had married, horrified that Minerva had apparently been unaware of her husband’s increasingly Dark alliances during the past two years. At least she was unaffected by his beliefs. At least she had stood up to him and left... to join him.

***

The day had come at last. After receiving confirmation of Grindelwald’s location, Albus and Minerva faced each other.

‘Take care of yourself,’ he whispered, and squeezed her hand lightly. She felt a peculiar and inappropriate ripple of desire shoot through her at his touch.

‘You too,’ she replied.

A few seconds later, they had both Disapparated to Grindelwald’s lair.

By the time they reached his camp, many of his men had deserted him. Minerva quickly took charge of keeping the few remaining members of Grindelwald’s army at bay why Albus approached his childhood friend.

‘You can’t beat me, Albus,’ he taunted him, ‘I have the Elder Wand.’

For a moment, Albus was caught off guard. Then it really did exist? Grindelwald used that time to cast the Cruciatus curse.

Minerva, who had just turned to Albus, felt her anger explode. How dare he do this to him! How could he? She abandoned her battle and quickly joined Albus’s, casting spell after spell at Grindelwald, distracting him from torturing Albus. As Albus recovered, Minerva took more and more hexes, until finally she collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

It was Albus’s turn to be gripped with uncharacteristic rage. Shooting one final Stunner to Grindelwald’s chest, the Dark Lord fell.

With the last of his energy, he Summoned the rest of the Aurors and then collapsed next to Minerva.

***

He woke up a few days later in a Wizarding hospital in France, Minerva nowhere to be found.

‘Where is she?’ he asked the nurse who quickly came round to dose him with more potions.

‘Who?’ the nurse asked.

‘Minerva McGonagall. Where is she?’

‘She has been released into the care of her husband, sir,’ the nurse said.

Only the nurse’s hand on his shoulder kept him in bed as anger washed over him. How could they just have released her? Especially releasing her to him? Couldn’t they see he was evil?

The potion he’d drunk must have been have been a sleeping potion, for he could no longer keep his eyes open, though he tried to. He had to make sure she was safe... but then his eyes closed and he entered oblivion.

***

In Albania, a dark-haired man stood over a narrow bed. A woman lay beneath the white sheets, her face pale, her dark hair spread across the pillow. If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, one would think she was dead.

He smiled cruelly. He hadn’t underestimated her this time. This time, he had taken her out of the hospital while she was still too weak to fight back, and, as soon as he had Portkeyed them to Albania, he force-fed her a powerful sleeping potion he had invented himself. Mixed in to the potion was a draught to prevent her from changing into her Animagus form. Now she was lying in her bed, in a room that no-one but he could enter. She would stay there as long as he needed her.

***

She couldn’t seem to wake up, try as she might. She felt as though she were in some kind of trance. What had happened to her? Had Grindelwald won, was that why she was in this state? Was she in some sort of prison? Was she being drugged?

Where was Albus? Why wasn’t he helping her? Why wasn’t he here with her now? He couldn’t... he couldn’t be dead, could he? Oh, what if he was? She could not bear it, not him!

And Tom... if she ever woke up, she would leave him. She would file for divorce and make sure their child would never be hurt by him, not like she had been hurt...

“Remember, if you are ever in any trouble, come back to Hogwarts...” Albus’s words at her graduation echoed in her ears. If she could ever escape being trapped in her own mind, then she would go back to Hogwarts. If she could ever wake up...

[harmonydumbledore]

(screams) MINERVA!!!!

Grrrr....Albus will get her back. I know he will!

[dianahawthorne]

December, 1945


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Half-crazed and almost unrecognisable, Minerva McGonagall stumbled up to the door of the Hog’s Head. It was the middle of the night, a blizzard raging about, and all the stores were closed for the night. Sobs were torn from her throat as she pounded on the door, crying out.

By the time she was found the next morning by Aberforth Dumbledore, she was half-dead, nearly frozen through. Not knowing what to do, he Flooed his brother in his office at Hogwarts.

‘There’s a woman on my doorstep, Albus,’ his younger brother said, ‘I need your help.’

‘Where is she now?’ he asked.

‘Still outside.’

‘Well, bring her inside – I’ll be there as soon as possible,’ Albus instructed, and grabbed his wand. Sending a Patronus to Poppy Pomfrey, the school nurse, instructing her to prepare the Hospital Wing for a patient, he then Flooed to the Hog’s Head.

***

The dark-haired, emaciated woman lay on his brother’s rather mildewed couch, a patched blanket covering her skinny frame. Her eyes were wild, darting around the room, and despite her obvious exhaustion and illness, she fought Aberforth. He looked up when Albus stepped into the room.

‘Albus, thank Merlin you’ve come,’ he said. At his name, the woman stopped struggling.

‘Al...bus?’ the woman said, her voice cracking. ‘Al...bus?’

‘Yes, my dear?’ he asked, kneeling next to her. ‘Do you know me?’

As her eyes looked into his, he knew her – despite her weight loss, despite the dark matted hair that hung lankly about her face, despite the wildness in her eyes – he knew her.

‘Minerva.’

***

‘You were right, Albus, she was pregnant,’ Poppy said, looking over at the sleeping patient. ‘In fact, she gave birth only a day or so ago.’

‘The child is alive, then?’ Albus asked Poppy.

‘It’s more than likely,’ Poppy replied gravely.

‘I don’t think we should tell her,’ said Albus, after a few moments’ thought. ‘Especially as we’re not sure what happened to it.’

‘Albus, that’s not something I feel comfortable doing...’

‘Poppy, would you rather her mourn for a child that might be alive, and, if it is alive, is most certainly under the care of the man who beat her? Or would you rather let her mourn for the child who died?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I think, it’s the ethics of it.’

‘I don’t understand how putting someone through endless suffering is more ethical than saving them from years of heartache,’ he said. ‘I absolutely forbid you from telling her the baby might still be alive.’

Reluctantly, she nodded.

‘I’ll be in my office. Please alert me as soon as she wakes up.’

Poppy nodded and turned back to her patient as Albus left the Hospital Wing.

***

The same night Minerva McGonagall stumbled onto Aberforth Dumbledore’s doorstep was the night Lord Voldemort called two of his most loyal supporters to his manor. They were nervous, fearing he would punish them for some imagined wrong. They were quite mistaken.

A basket floated next to him as one of his house-elves escorted the Blacks into the main hall. The newly-wed couple stood nervously in front of him, eyeing the basket with suspicion. Voldemort beckoned them closer, and they obeyed. They were able to see into the basket now, and looked down curiously at the child within.

‘You will raise this child as your own,’ Lord Voldemort said to Cygnus and Druella Black. The tiny girl looked up at the three adults with dark, intelligent eyes.

The Blacks were two of his most loyal followers; he knew they would follow his orders.

‘Of course, my Lord,’ they said. Druella took the basket in her arms, looking down at the baby. The baby regarded her with an intelligence far too great for a child of a day old.

‘We will be honoured,’ Druella added.

Voldemort nodded. ‘Her name is Bellatrix,’ he said, and with that, he turned on his heel, exiting the room, leaving his daughter behind.

***

Albus Dumbledore turned the ancient pages of the magical book that recorded the births of all Wizarding children. As he suspected, there was one entry on the most recently recorded page that was what he was looking for.

‘Riddle, Bellatrix. Father: Tom Riddle, Jr.; Mother: Minerva McGonagall Riddle.’

As he read the entry, it changed. The entry now read ‘Black, Bellatrix. Father: Cygnus Black; Mother: Druella Rosier Black.’

Albus sighed, a mixture of relief and despair washing over him. Relief because now Minerva would never have to find that her child did live to be raised by those... Dark wizards; despair because Minerva’s child deserved better, even if Tom Riddle was the baby’s father.

He couldn’t change it now, and more importantly, he wouldn’t change it. It might be wrong, but it was what he believed was right.

***

She drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few months, taking refuge in the darkness when the pain – both physical and emotional – became too much to bear. Her child was gone – Albus told her during one of her brief periods of awareness. Her baby had died. Her child – her one hope at happiness – had been taken from her, cruelly, unfairly.

Minerva couldn’t bear to think of it, couldn’t bear to think of her dead baby. Oh, she would have been a good mother! She would have left Tom, taken an cabin somewhere far away, kept the child safe.

The worst part of it was that she didn’t even know if her baby was a girl or a boy. A girl like her, or a boy like Tom. Perhaps it would be best to imagine her baby as a boy, perhaps she could come to terms with her child’s death easier that way. If she had a boy... well, he might have turned out just like his father. At least that would never happen now.

Perhaps it was for the best that her child died – she didn’t deserve a baby. She wouldn’t be a good enough mother. After all, she wouldn’t have been able to provide her baby with a father. Maybe... maybe it was for the best.

But that didn’t make the pain go away. Nothing would ever make the pain go away.

[dianahawthorne]

July, 1946

She sat nervously in Albus Dumbledore’s office, hands twisting together as she waited for him. He had asked her to join him for tea that afternoon, and of course she had obliged – what else could she say? She owed him too much – he had saved her life. Without him, she most likely would have killed herself, so stricken with grief was she over the death of her child.

But he had helped her through it, giving her work, keeping her busy, not allowing her mind the time to dwell in the land of might-have-beens. And by the time the school year had ended, allowing her the leisure to think about the events of the past year, she found the pain had dulled considerably.

That did not mean she did not think about her lost child every day, for she did. But the pain had lessened; she was able to regard the past year from a distance, though it still hurt.

The door opened, freeing her from her morbid thoughts, and Albus stepped into the room. Over the past few months, his auburn hair had become steadily more gray, and many more wrinkles lined his face. But he was still Albus – the Albus she had grown to love over the past several months. He smiled when he saw her waiting for him.

‘Good day, my dear,’ he said, taking a seat across from her. The tea had arrived as he entered, and, waving his hand, the teapot obeyed his command and poured out two steaming cups. Minerva leaned forward and picked up her cup, a slight smile curving her lips as he placed four sugars in his tea. It was a smile that hadn’t been used for quite some time, and was consequently rusty, but it made his heart leap in his breast. She was getting better, he was sure of it now. Hopefully the news he would presently tell her would make her even happier.

‘Minerva, I have had some quite exciting news,’ he said blithely, taking a sip of his heavily-sugared tea.

She leaned forward, her posture betraying her eagerness to hear what he had to say.

His smile grew a bit wider as he saw her anticipation. ‘The Headmaster of Beauxbatons Owled me this morning, asking if I knew of anyone to fill their vacant Transfiguration post. Of course, only one name came to mind.’

She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, yet she tried valiantly to fight it away. ‘Whose name would that be?’ she asked, her hands still twisting together.

‘Why, yours, of course!’ he exclaimed, surprised that she even needed to ask.

‘...oh,’ she managed to reply, the sinking feeling returning. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice sounded hollow, but he did not notice. Yes, most of the time he was a very observant man, but sometimes, when he was completely wrapped up in an idea, he lacked the reflection that characterised much of his life. This moment was one of those times, as he plunged along enthusiastically, pleased to be able to provide her with what he believed she wanted.

‘I think this would be good for you, Minerva – I think you’ll be happy to be doing something productive. You always said you enjoyed tutoring other students, and you’ve been invaluable to me these last few months. I’m quite certain you can be even more invaluable as a professor in your own right.’

But I wanted to be a teacher here, she thought. And if I am so invaluable, why are you sending me away? I want to stay here! Can’t I still be of assistance to you? Or am I an unwanted burden?

‘Thank you, Albus,’ she said, her voice dull. ‘That is most kind.’

He beamed at her, taking her words at their apparent meaning. ‘Splendid! I knew you’d be pleased.’

‘When do I leave?’ asked Minerva, dreading leaving the castle, her friends, him... for the unknown that was Beauxbatons.

‘They’d like you there by the end of the month, so that you may accustom yourself with the castle and with your duties.’

She nodded slightly. A month. A month to say goodbye to all she loved? It would be easier to tear her heart from her breast and leave it within these walls.

‘All right.’ She heard the words leave her lips but did not realise she had spoken them.

‘Splendid,’ he said, smiling at her. Yes, he would miss her, but this was for the best – for all of them. He was developing too deep an attachment to her, and that would not be good for either of them – especially not for him. He couldn’t afford to have an affair now, especially with a former student. So he pretended not to hear the undertones of sadness running through her voice as she agreed to take the position at Beauxbatons.



She would be leaving Hogwarts tomorrow. All of her scarce belongings had been packed – she had neither the time nor the inclination to replace what had been lost after the War – and she was ready to leave – as ready as she would ever be, at least.

Albus would provide her with her Portkey in the morning. She would miss him desperately, and it hurt that he made no effort to spend a bit of time alone with her before she left. In fact, ever since she agreed to take the job at Beauxbatons, he had avoided her.

Oh, how she would miss him! She believed that she loved him, though she wasn’t yet sure. What she felt for Albus did not even approach what she felt – had felt – for Tom. She loved Tom with a deep, burning passion – what she felt for Albus – whatever she felt for Albus – was calmer, softer, comfortable. Yes, it might be love, what she felt for him, but it was certainly a different sort of love.

Whatever it was, she didn’t know if she could bear to leave him. He had been her comfort, her saving grace, her rock for these past months – he had helped her to recover from those horrible months alone, from losing her child, from all the pain she had suffered.

But he wanted her to go, and Minerva McGonagall was too proud to beg, too proud to remain where she, apparently, was not wanted.

So she would leave Hogwarts. It would need all of her Gryffindor courage to take the Portkey in the morning, to travel to a place that was completely unknown to her, and to begin a new life away from all she knew and loved. But she would do it – she must do it.

***

Unknown to Minerva, Albus Dumbledore also lay awake. He would miss her, and if he didn’t believe it was for the best, he would have gone to her and begged her to stay. But she had to leave – he could no longer trust himself around her.

He’d made mistakes in love before – Elphias Doge was one mistake, Gellert Grindelwald was the other, and the far more damaging one – but Minerva was different. He’d never loved a woman before, though there were many he counted as close friends. But Minerva...

He didn’t know what it was about her that drew him to her – her brains? her beauty? – but whatever it was, it had created a connection between them. He couldn’t allow that to happen – no, not again – he was afraid of how things would end.

A very long time ago, Cassandra Trelawney had predicted his doom by the hand of his lover. For years, naturally, he assumed it would be Grindelwald who would defeat him, but now... well, he had conquered Grindelwald. It was apparent that he was not the lover she had meant all those years ago.

Could that lover be Minerva? He couldn’t take that chance, couldn’t allow himself to pursue her, win her, love her. No, he would send her away, and hopefully... hopefully she would stay there. Hopefully she would not be his downfall.

[micha]

" Hopefully she would not be his downfall."
Goodness, what a thought for this our dear board I do not think this has been voiced ever before ;D. Stupid Albus!

" She loved Tom with a deep, burning passion"...told you already that sooner hell will freeze over than I believe any such thing

But keep up the good work anyway

[dianahawthorne]

December, 1946 – March 1947


22 December 1946
‘Dear Albus,
Christmas at Beauxbatons is a far more elaborate affair than the Christmases I remember from my days at Hogwarts. Ice sculptures decorate the Great Hall, in addition to dozens of Christmas trees and hundreds of candles. Fairies fly about the halls – quite annoying when one is trying to teach a class. Thankfully, the holiday has begun, and I do not have to worry about them distracting my students any longer.

Most of the students and my fellow professors have returned to their homes for the holidays – only three other professors, including the Headmaster, and half a dozen students remain in the castle. The students do not lack for activities – they are encouraged to go outside, and every day a trip to the nearby village is organised.

I have enclosed your Christmas present with this letter in hopes that it finds you well. I hope that you enjoy your holidays. I look forward to seeing you on December 27th, as planned.

Minerva.’

***

24 December 1946
‘My dear Minerva,
Your last letter and Christmas present have indeed found me safely. I am spending the holidays with friends, and was eminently pleased to receive news of how you plan to spend your holidays. Beauxbatons has always looked marvellous during the holiday season, and I do not blame you for choosing to remain there. Unfortunately, I shan’t be able to visit you as we planned – my brother has insisted that I meet his fiancée, and obviously I cannot pass up the opportunity to meet a woman who does not mind my brother’s goat fetish!

I hope that you have an enjoyable and restful holiday season, and that my letter finds you in good health.

Albus.’

***

2 January 1947
‘Dear Albus,
Unfortunately, this year did not have an illustrious beginning – my First-Footer was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who happens to have blond hair. I know what you’d say if you were here – how is it that I, who put no store in Divination, believe in this particular tradition? I suppose it is silly, but it is a part of me. Let’s hope that the year is prosperous.

The students return in a few days, and I shall be glad to return to my duties. I do enjoy teaching, and am blessed with bright and inquisitive students. Of course, it is difficult to adjusting to speaking, teaching, thinking only in French – except for when I write to you, of course – but it is a challenge I have embraced whole-heartedly.

I hope that your Christmas holidays were happy and healthy. I hope that next year you might be able to visit me.

Minerva.’

***

9 January 1947
‘Dear Minerva,
I did, indeed, have a happy and healthy Christmas holiday. Aberforth’s fiancée was a beard – and by beard, I mean that she was a nanny goat, with quite prominent chin hair. Apparently, he did not want to be alone during the holiday season.

I hope you had some time to socialise with the other professors – the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor seemed to be quite nice when I met him earlier in the year. He would be a good friend for you, my dear, and I hope that you will not take that remark in any way but the way it was intended.

Hogwarts has been very busy, as usual – busy, but enjoyable. As you may know, Headmaster Dippet plans to retire in a few years, and I have slowly been taking over some of his duties. However, I relish the opportunity at helping mould Hogwarts into a better school, and eagerly anticipate becoming Headmaster upon the Headmaster’s retirement. Perhaps, then, you might return to Hogwarts as the Transfiguration professor?

Albus.’

***

14 January 1947
‘Dear Albus,
That sounds like Aberforth – the poor man! I hope he does find someone eventually. I myself do not like being alone during the holidays – I suppose I was fortunate that Paul – the D.A.D.A. professor – had also remained at Beauxbatons for the holidays. I was disappointed that you could not come to visit, however, I quite understand that you wanted to spend time with your brother.

I know that you will make an excellent Headmaster, and I know that Professor Dippet could not have made a better choice for his successor. Your offer is very kind, and I shall certainly consider it very carefully.

I hope to see you next Christmas, and take care.

Minerva.’

***

22 February 1947
Dear Minerva,
I am glad to hear that you have found a friend in Professor Chevalier – he is quite kind, and I do believe that you will be good friends.

I am glad to hear that you will consider my offer, as I would very much like you to be on my staff.

Albus.’

***

28 February 1947
‘Dear Albus,
Is something the matter? Your last Owl was so short, and it took quite some time to arrive. I do hope that nothing’s wrong.

Paul and I went to Paris for a few days during our brief holiday weekend – it was very enjoyable, especially as I had not been back to Paris after the War. We spent the weekend touring the city – especially the Muggle parts, as I had never visited.

I’m glad to hear from you, as I had been worried. Again, I hope nothing is wrong.

Minerva.’

***

13 April 1947
‘Dear Minerva,
I’m so glad that you and Paul visited Paris, especially the Muggle sections. I’ve always found them to be the most beautiful.

Everything is fine – I apologise for not getting back to you sooner. Everything has just been incredibly busy.

Take care, my dear.

Albus.’

***

18 April 1947
‘Dear Albus,
I am so glad to hear that everything is all right. I have some rather good news – I have been asked to lecture at L’Institute de Magique in Paris. I do hope you will be able to come! I’m scheduled to lecture on 1 May. I’m lecturing on Animagi transformations. I’ve been practicing my speech with Paul, and he thinks that it’s quite good. I do hope you will be able to make it.

Minerva.’

[minervammcg]

THis was great!! More soon!

[gem]

This is wonderful post more soon.

[mistressquill]

I like what you've written so far. I do hope you continue soon.