have a biscuit

Alice just smiled as she watched Minerva and her little girl interact. She had to admit, the sight made her slightly jealous. Alice would adore to have anothe baby, especially a little girl. Of course she adored her little boy, but their family really did not feel complete. She knew this wasn’t the right time. Some of the stories Frank came home with, and the whispers she heard. She’d already had one baby in the middle of a war, and didn’t want to bring a second into that life. Alice also knew that the voldermort did return that they would be high on his target list, if not top of it. He’d already came after her son once, and she knew if he returned he would come once again. They didn’t have Augusta to protect them this time.

But, she pushed those thoughts aside, and decided to live for today, for at least now. She enjoyed spending time with her friends, and wasn’t going to let the concerns she had ruin things. “You’re too good to us…” She murmured with a little laugh. Alice was honest with those words. She knew Minerva saw a lot of kids, but the fact that she remembered her sons favourite treats, meant a lot to her.

“You compliment me too much…” Alice murmured, moving towards the parlour where she had set up the tea. “One day the tea will disappoint, and I’ll be very embarrassed.”

Minerva laughed as she followed Alice to the place where they always took their tea, waving off the younger woman’s comment. “I entirely doubt that would ever happen,” she replied honestly, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Ailsa and Neville were properly occupied. It delighted her to watch her daughter have the chance to play with children her own age. Sometimes Minerva worried that the little girl was two serious, considering who her two parents were. At least Minerva’s older two children had been close enough in age to have one another for playmates. A strict professor and a hardened auror didn’t really make for excellent playmates for a four year old.

Turning her attention back to Alice, Minerva joined her at the table and eagerly reached for the cup of tea that Alice poured for her. It was a specific type that Minerva hadn’t found anywhere else, and she wondered once more whether Alice grew it herself. She had never asked, but why? Laughing to herself, she put the cup down and looked up at Alice. “Okay, I have to ask. Where do you get this tea?”

Glancing every so often over at the children to make sure they were getting on just fine, Minerva settled in, glad for the opportunity to relax and enjoy casual conversation with a friend. “And how are you doing lately, dear? How have things been?”

…

Days like today did make Marlene feel completely useless. It was wrong, but she longed for war. She longed for the days where she could hold a wand in battle; longed for some kind of excitement that would make her feel alive again. It’d been so long since she’d felt normal. Even to this day, her heart wasn’t healed. Maybe she wasn’t letting it, though. Maybe, just maybe, Marlene liked the cracks. They reminded her that she had reasons for what she’d done in the war. 

Minerva, though, made her feel as though what she’d done was wrong. Not on purpose, no. The Transfiguration professor would never say one way or another how she felt about Marlene’s actions in the war. No, instead she treated Marlene with kindness, a kindness that Marlene wasn’t exactly sure she deserved. It was appreciated, though, more than Minerva could know. She and her husband had accepted her into their family despite her rage, and part of her felt terrible that she couldn’t stop her flames from spreading.

As Minnie took her arm, Marlene couldn’t stop a soft smirk appearing. “Ah, well, you can’t give me detention now so I s’pose I can let a few bloody hells loose,” Marlene teased, gently nudging the other woman as they walked, arm and arm throughout the festival. “You’re currently saving me from doing absolutely nothing. Although, don’t let your husband see. He’ll have my head if I’m not paying attention to… well, nothing. Since nothing is going on. But constant vigilance, and all that.”

––

Minerva laughed delightedly at Marlene’s reply, looping her arm through the younger woman’s and pulling her into the crowd of people moving down the alley. She didn’t have a particular destination in mind, just wanted to take in the sights and enjoy some free time while Alastor minded the little one. “Ah, but don’t think I wouldn’t try,” Minerva teased, winking at Marlene. “Some habits are hard to break, and taking points when I hear foul language is one of them. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I’ve tried to take points off Alastor for his mouth.” 

Minerva laughed again, shaking her head. She had been a professor for so long that it was hard to get out of that mode. She tried as hard as she could to be mother more than professor in her house, but sometimes she slipped up. “Don’t worry,” Minerva promised, waving her free hand at the younger woman. “What Alastor doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, much better vantage point from within the crowd, right?” That was actually probably complete bollocks, but Minerva tended to bend the rules when it suited her.

Of course, she wasn’t entirely convinced that something wouldn’t happen at one of this month’s events, but Minerva was trying not to feed into her paranoia, and today seemed like a perfect, happy day. Surely there wasn’t some dark plan waiting in the wings to disrupt the event and cause mass chaos? And there had to be other Aurors on duty, as well –– let Marlene have a little break. “So, how have things been? It’s been forever since we’ve had you over to dinner, I’m sorry. We were going through a bit of a tantrum phase with Ailsa.” 

Kingsley stepped from the fireplace and brushed the ash from his shoulders. Leaving for work in the morning, he was always sure to charm and protect his robes, but he wasn’t particularly worried about looking perfectly clean and put together in front of Minerva. She understood the dirt of a day at the Ministry all too well from Alastor, even when it wasn’t physical.

He knew she’d be in the other room and wasn’t surprised to find a Minerva figurine at the table. She didn’t even look up immediately, so Kingsley came up beside her to read the paper on the table in front of her. Only once he’d had his fill of it did Kingsley take a seat next to her. They didn’t really need a table this long anymore, but some things were difficult to move on from. Perhaps war was one of them. “The Ministry had put a lot of protections in place for it,” he pointed out. “Many of us will be there as much on duty as invited guests. I’m not used to dress robes and my work wand holster, but they’re certainly a combination I’m prepared for.”

Kingsley hadn’t actually asked her directly about her worries, but he assumed she would say. Minerva wasn’t shy about speaking her mind, after all. He was sure she hadn’t called for him to just discuss what the Ministry was doing.

∞

Minerva heard Kingsley approach, but she didn’t look around to make sure that it was him. She could sense him in a way that few people would be able to understand, but Kingsley was one of them. He knew of her heritage –– that she was the heir to the Scottish Ross clan of powerful witches. Minerva didn’t just do magic –– she felt it, like a life force. It was one of the many things her grandmother had taught her when she was young, and it came in handy.

When Kingsley sat beside her and began to speak, she turned her head to meet his gaze. He didn’t seem to be concerned, but there was always more going on in Kingsley’s mind underneath the surface. “All the same, it’s not as if most of the Ministry is on guard for Voldemort’s return. It’s just you and Alastor that know about the horcruxes,” she pointed out, a grim look still fixed firmly on her face. These last five years had been a reprieve, but in many ways they had also been tortuous. She knew that Voldemort would return –– she was just stuck wondering when that might be. 

“And it’s being hosted at the Nott Manor. You know who Elizabeth Nott is, even if she didn’t suffer the same fate as her husband,” Minerva pointed out, carefully keeping the worry from entering her tone of voice. “Is it just supposed to be a coincidence that somehow she charmed her way into hosting the ball?” 

Alice had to admit to herself that it had been strange at first to be friends with one of her old teachers. She didn’t quite know when it had happened, but fighting alongside each other in the had really helped to start the friendship between herself and Minerva. It amused her, because Transfiguration had not been her strong suit at school. None of the subjects had really been, but she’d worked hard, and had managed to get a NEWT in the class. That was all long forgotten though, and now she was freinds with Minerva. it was a different relationship, but she did appreciate the other womans wisdom and advise.

It helped that they had children around the same age. Alice was so happy that her son had other children to grow up with. Part of her wanted another baby, but she didn’t know if it was the right time, especially with how the rumours were spreading. Maybe eventually Frank and she would have another little baby, but not right now. she was excited for today though. She enjoyed her bi-weekly afternoon teas with Minerva, especially when the older woman brought Hogwarts treats. She really did miss those Hogwarts treats.

She smiled as she opened the door to find her friend. “Hello Minerva! So lovely to see you!” And the lovely treats that she had brought with her

Minerva put her hand on Ailsa’s head to usher her inside, smiling in response to Alice’s greeting. The little one went flying into the next room to find Neville, her blonde hair streaming out behind her. With a proud smile and a slight shake of the head, Minerva turned her attention back to Alice, stepping into the house to greet her friend. With a quick hug, Minerva held out the basket of goodies. “I’ve brought some of your favorites,” she said with a wink. 

“And, of course, I remembered one that Neville really likes, too,” Minerva said fondly, glancing over to look at the boy in question. There was something so...life giving about seeing the children of her former students. She knew that one day she would get to watch Neville grow up even more closely, and the thought excited her. It was fascinating to watch these little ones become their own person while still remembering the parents that made them. Minerva couldn’t wait to see how Neville’s personality would favor Alice or Frank.

Of course, she had also once been close friends with Augusta Longbottom, and being able to watch the grandson she had given her life to protect felt like a sacred thing to Minerva. Shaking that sad thought from her head, Minerva gave Alice a cheeky grin. “So, where’s that lovely tea you always make me?” 

People often joked that Minerva McGonagall had perfected the art of acting like a statue, and she had to concede that they were mostly right. She could sit perfectly still for a long time without needing to move, especially when something was on her mind. So anyone that knew her well wouldn’t have been surprised to find her at the safehouse that they still used for Order headquarters, sitting perfectly straight at the long table, staring down at the piece of parchment on the table in front of her.

It was an invitation to the next part of the month’s celebrations, a ball to be held at St. Mungo’s in order to raise money for those that were still suffering from the events of the war. Most people that Minerva had talked to were excited about the ball –– a chance to be free of the children for an evening and celebrate the peace they had known for these five years, not to mention the chance to get dressed up and drink free alcohol. But Minerva was more worried than excited. As part of the leadership for the Order, she knew full well that Voldemort would return, and she also knew that plenty of his supporters had walked free.

That was why she had asked Kingsley to meet her here tonight. She trusted her husband’s judgement, of course, but Alastor always took the more negative tact, and he would almost certainly expect there to be trouble at one of the month’s celebrations. Kingsley was more level-headed, and that was why Minerva was seeking his judgement. Maybe she was just being paranoid because of the information that she knew.

Minerva didn’t tend to remain close to many of her students, but there were a small group of them that were able to boast having a personal relationship with her after they left Hogwarts. Alice Longbottom, naturally, was one of them. While Transfiguration may not have been Alice’s best subject at school (though she was by no means bad at it), there was something about fighting together in the Order that bonded Minerva with many of her former students, and Alice was no exception. 

Their relationship had continued beyond the end of the war, and even been enriched when Minerva gave birth to her third child, only a couple years younger than Neville. The two young ones were well acquainted with one another, and though Minerva had once known Alice as a child, there was something about having relationships with mothers of children around the same age as her own that she found comforting. They both understood what it was like to to raise children in war and to find their footing raising children after the war. So bi-weekly tea at the Longbottoms had become something that Minerva always looked forward to. Approaching the house, she knocked on the door, holding onto the basket of goodies she had brought courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves.

Though Poppy had sought to deny it over the years, even physically disprove it, it was a fact that Minerva’s presence was oft more commanding than her own. Whilst Minerva’s powers at Hogwarts offered a certain advantage, a kind of enviable gravitas, she had always been a naturally authoritative figure in a way Poppy was not. On a day such as this, she would undoubtedly be the perfect accompaniment for swerving the throng.

But she was also the one person who would freely delight in Poppy’s discomposure, particularly without Alastor to temper or distract her. Eventually, it was the chance to gather gossip that helped to tilt the matron’s answer into the affirmative.

“… Fine. I will rescue you from your solitude, but you have to keep up.” She took off down the street without a second glance, bustling as usual, with the occasional need to sidestep an excitable child (or an equally excitable adult). “And you can buy me a drink in the Leaky Cauldron afterwards!”

Minerva smirked at her best friend’s attitude, but said nothing. She was used to Poppy’s prickly demeanor, ever since they were both children, and it rarely bothered Minerva when her friend’s temper turned on her. After all, she was raising three children that had temperaments that took on the best and worst traits of both herself and Alastor. She could handle just about anything after that. 

“You have yourself a deal, though surely Hogwarts pays you enough to buy your own liquor,” she teased, giving Poppy a wink as she followed her through the throng. “But I’m a generous soul, so I’ll cough up the coins.” 

They were silent for a few moments as they weaved their way through the crowds, heading to the apothecary, and Minerva couldn’t help but grin as people recognized them and stepped out of the way. “Are we the two Hogwarts employees with the most formidable reputations?” She asked her friend, amusement clear in her tone. “Except for maybe Severus, of course, but there’s a difference between being formidable and being feared.” 

This festival presented a lot of mixed emotions for Mary. On the one hand, it represented the end of the war – an objectively good thing for herself, her family, and for countless other muggleborns out there just like herself. However, it also served as a stark reminder of how little she had done to contribute to this outcome. Reggie had reminded her on a number of occasions that she didn’t need to hold herself responsible for not doing more – that putting herself and her unborn daughter at risk wasn’t something that should have been expected of her, that she had done the smart thing by staying out of it. She knew it was the smart thing, but that didn’t make dealing with the fallout any easier.

She hadn’t particularly wanted to attend the festival. Both for the aforementioned reasons, and for the fact that she was terrible in large crowds even at the best of times. There was a time in her life when she would have been enchanted by such an event, but now she was simply on edge the whole time, keeping her eyes open and her senses sharp. She was only here because the girls had been so excited about the event, and, though he tried to disguise it, she could tell that Reggie was, too. So, here she was, against her better judgement but for the enjoyment of her family. Reggie and the girls had gone off to explore while Mary had decided to look around some of the shops. They were all having sales at the moment – why not take advantage?

Mary had been looking around Quality Quidditch Supplies for a toy broom for Ellie ( she was currently insisting that she would play Quidditch when she was older ) when she heard her name called, instantly turning in the direction of the voice. It only takes her a moment to recognise the woman in front of her – Professor McGonagall ( or was it Minerva, now that she’d graduated? ). Mary offers the woman a smile in return, waving politely in greeting. “Professor McGonagall,” She says, “Don’t think I’ve seen you since Hogwarts, are you enjoying the festivities?”

Minerva smiled at the use of her formal name, but didn’t bother to correct Mary. Most of her former students who hadn’t served with her in the Order still called her Professor, and she wasn’t naive enough to think that they’d break the habit anymore than to think that they’d see her as something other than the strict Head of Gryffindor they’d once known. Her older children used to find it hilarious, but now that they’d both had her for a teacher, they understood, and Ailsa was too young to think anything of it. 

She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve seen you either, Miss MacDonald. Or Mrs. Cattermole, rather. I have heard a few things, though. Don’t you have some daughters?” Minerva liked to keep tabs on her former students if she could, especially the Gryffindors, and though Mary hadn’t fought with the Order like most of her friends, Minerva still had a fondness for the young witch. To this day, she could remember how big Mary’s little eyes had gotten on the day that Minerva appeared on her doorstep to inform the MacDonald family that their daughter was a witch.

“Oh, they’re fine. Alastor’s always a little jumpy in large crowds, and I don’t adore them myself, but we cancelled classes for the day so that Hogwarts students could join their families if they so wished, and our children insisted on coming.” Minerva gave an indulgent shrug –– surely, as a mother, Mary would understand that phenomenon. “And yourself?” 

Alastor probably wouldn’t have bothered with the festival if it wasn’t for Minerva and their daughter. He’d still be there - keeping a watchful eye - but he wouldn’t have likely participated in any of the events. To be completely honest, he hated crowds. He hated festivals. Everything about the event put him on edge. If he’d been alone, he would have found somewhere hidden in the shadows and just made himself comfortable. With his daughter on his arm, however, Moody was willed into doing whatever caught the little girl’s eye. 

So far they’d ran about the alley taking in all the sights and they’d been in and out of a few shops. She was a curious little thing and needed to see everything the alley had to offer. Merlin, she was more like her mother than he’d bargained for. When the four year old insisted that they watch the band who was supposed to perform on the steps of Gringotts, Moody protested, but eventually gave in. How could he say no? 

If it had been anyone else, he would have startled when the hand touched his arm, but he’d learned to sense Minerva’s presence a long time ago. In fact, he even mustered a half-smirk as he passed their daughter to her. “No,” he muttered, “It was her idea. Bet you 3 galleons she falls asleep by the third song.” 

Minerva had long since gotten over her fear that doing anything to startle Alastor would cause him to hex her into oblivion. She was fairly certain that she was one of the few people ( along with their children and probably Poppy ) that he was able to sense before he saw them. She well understood his paranoia –– she had seen her fair share of horrors in her work for the Order, but they were nothing compared to what her husband saw on a regular basis in his role as Head Auror. But she also trusted him to keep that paranoia out of their interactions with one another and with their children. She didn’t want their kids growing up afraid. Prepared, sure. But not afraid.

Laughing, she tucked their excited little girl into her arms and squeezed her close for a moment, inhaling the familiar comforting scent, then turned her attention back to her husband. “I’ll think about taking you up on that. I think she talked you into getting too close to think that she’d be able to fall asleep through that noise. Though, if you really wanted to make an early escape, I suppose we could put a C-H-A-R-M on her.” Kissing her daughter’s nose in response to her question about what that spelled, Minerva glanced back to Alastor.

“What else did our favorite little urchin convince you to do in the few hours you were stuck with her?” Minerva knew all too well that Alastor was wrapped around all of his children’s fingers, especially when they were young. Whatever they wanted, he had a tendency to give in to it ( so long as it was safe, of course ).

It wasn’t often that Minerva got to enjoy wandering around quality quidditch supplies without one of her children badgering her for something they didn’t need. All three of them had inherited her love for the sport, and the elder two had even played on the gryffindor quidditch team during their time at school (one still was), so they were always convinced they needed something else. And the four year old, who wanted to be just like her older siblings, always wanted the latest model of toy brooms. It would be aggravating if Minerva wasn’t so proud.

Still, it was nice to browse at her leisure. It wasn’t as if she needed any supplies -- she hadn’t played even in a pickup game since her injury -- but she still liked to look at everything. Besides, they were always coming out with new playbooks that she could use to pass on tips to the Gryffindor captains. 

Looking up from one of these books, Minerva’s glance fell on Mary Cattermole. A former student of hers, Minerva couldn’t remember the last time she saw Mary, and she smiled, setting the book down and making her way over to the young woman. “Mary! How lovely to see you!” 

Minerva hadn’t planned to stay through the whole event, but Marlene had been enough fun that she didn’t get bored, so here she was, still around even though the concert was about to begin. Figuring that she might as well stick around to the end in order to watch it with her husband and daughter, Minerva made her way through the crowd, searching for the familiar grizzly profile of her husband. Smiling at those she passed, Minerva got closer and closer to the steps of gringotts, where the concert would be taking place, and shook her head to herself at the thought that alastor was taking a four year old so close.

Finally spotting them right on the edge of the crowd, Minerva pushed through people, ignoring some cries of opposition. Some of those protests died as soon as they recognized their former Transfiguration professor, and she smiled ruefully to herself, a little bit glad that her reputation had lasted for so long.

Raising her eyebrow, Minerva reached out and touched her husband on the arm. “I see you’ve found prime seats,” she said wryly, smiling as their daughter reached out for her. Taking the child in her arms, Minerva kissed the top of her head before looking back at Alastor. “You really want to stay to see this new band?” 

After exasperatedly giving up on Poppy to keep her company while Alastor played the favorite parent with their youngest child, Minerva wandered around, trying to decide whether it was worth it to stay any longer or whether she should just go home and enjoy the day off with some well earned peace and quiet (not that having a four year old who would inevitably come home and demand her attention consisted of peaceful or quiet -- not when said four year old had the strong genes of one Alastor Moody). She could finish up some lesson plans before they arrived home to bombard her with stories, but Minerva didn’t think she wanted to waste this day on work. 

So she continued to wander through Diagon Alley a little aimlessly, smiling and making small talk with all of the familiar faces she came across. It was crazy to her how many of these witches and wizards she had once taught -- it made her feel old in a way that having a four year old didn’t usually allow for. 

Finally, Minerva caught sight of a familiar face, and her hand reached out to grab Marlene’s arm before she could wiggle away. “Marlene! Thank merlin! A face I know who won’t treat me like the professor that once gave them detention for writing naughty things on their desk!” She smirked at the memory, then shook it away and looped her arm through Marlene’s. “I don’t care what you were just doing, because now you’re stuck with me.” Minerva had gotten close to Marlene through Alastor’s mentorship of the woman, so she was one of the few people that knew her as Minerva, not as McGonagall. 

It was as if all the world wanted to ruin Poppy’s day. External errands could be a pain at the best of times, but avoiding scampering children, pushy adults, and even the odd salacious gaze made this particular arduous task far harder. Her elbows were taking (or giving) quite the beating as she jostled along the edge of the action.

Minerva, with all her wit and contentment, was the cherry on the icing of a very bad cake.

“Coming?” She blinked rapidly, as if this suggestion was utterly ludicrous — and, frankly, given the length of their friendship and their knowledge of each other, it nearly was. “I’m going, Minnie. I was never here; I was a spirit passing through.”

Adjusting the package to rest precariously under one arm, its weight largely on her popped hip, she appraised her dear friend properly. Whereas once she had seen Minerva as a solitary figure, the absence of family around her out of school hours was disconcerting enough to make her pause. A query — or a quip about Alastor’s possible paranoia, she had not defied — died on her tongue as another ludicrously joyful song started up in their periphery.

“Well. If you’ll excuse me, these potions won’t exchange themselves…”

Minerva bit back a laugh at Poppy’s prickly demeanor, settling for a mere smirk for her best friend. Of course she knew that Poppy wouldn’t willingly find herself in a situation like this, which made it all the more meaningful of an opportunity to give the other woman a hard time. Shaking her head at the way Poppy had seemed to embrace the role of strict hogwarts matron, she stepped forward to block her friend’s path.

“Would you at least like some company while you deal with the crowds you’re sure to find at the apothecary?” There were terrible crowds everywhere here, what with all of the sales and various other activities that were going on in celebration. And since Alastor was off doing merlin knew what, Minerva wouldn’t mind some quality time with Poppy. She hadn’t seen much of her best friend these last couple of weeks.

Despite the fact that they both worked at Hogwarts, Minerva spent most of her evenings at the cottage where her family lived (except for the nights where she was scheduled for patrol), which meant that she had less opportunities to pop in for a visit with Poppy than she had back when they had both lived at Hogwarts. 

Date: October 5, 1986

Location: Diagon Alley

Starter: Open

Argus, the old fool, had reminded Poppy of the date. Though a semi-regular topic of conversation, the festival in particular had ostensibly, unfortunately, left her radar. As she stepped from the Leaky Cauldron into the street itself, a tad dishevelled from the Floo journey, she surveyed the joyous scene with the slightest roll of her eyes. There was music, and laughter, and pockets of dancing; and she felt like the grumpy maiden aunt in the corner, eternally disapproving. Maybe, after her business had been dealt with, she would find time for a drink and a smile with an old patient or two.

The idea didn’t remain for long. Her nose wrinkled in disdain as she passed a boisterous group of young men — already drunk, no doubt. There was a naivety to this event that her anxiety failed to ignore, however pleasant the contented bustle might be in isolation, which was aided by an innate hesitancy towards anything remotely fun when there was work to be done elsewhere. With a glance at ‘Quality Quidditch Supplies’, she conceded that her one saving grace was that it was not a Quidditch weekend.

Were it not for a hideous error by a medical supplier (Sleeping Draught instead of Calming Draught), she would still be blissfully locked up in Hogwarts, preparing for the week ahead. Tomorrow was first year Potions, followed by Charms; neither boded well for her beds. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it. As it was, she was stuck lugging along a box that would respond unfavourably to the feather-light charm. If no one noticed her, even ever swathed in burgundy, that was surely all to the good.

Minerva wandered through the crowd, keeping an eye out for her husband, relishing in the opportunity to spend an afternoon away from Hogwarts. As much as she loved her job, there was something nice about being able to let her hair down and escape into a crowd. Of course, most of the crowd still knew her as Professor McGonagall, but they at least had the decency not to act as if she was about to dock house points from them. She lingered outside of one of the clothing shops, wondering if she should waste her energy trying to bully Alastor into standing still for a fitting for new dress robes. 

Deciding that the energy was better spent elsewhere, Minerva shook her head and turned, nearly knocking into a passing witch. It was only a few seconds before Minerva recognized the form of her best friend, and her lips twitched upward in amusement. Poppy didn’t look nearly as excited to be away from the school for the day, and Minerva’s eyes glinted with a teasing look before she even spoke. “Poppy, I didn’t know you were coming! I would have suggested we come together!”

Of course, Minerva had come directly from the house she shared with Alastor and their children, but there was no reason to mention that now. Tilting her head to the side, she took in the bulky box in Poppy’s arms, and knew that the only reason her best friend would have braved the crowds like this was that she needed supplies for the hospital wing.