𝖕 𝖗 𝖎 𝔡 𝖊

Despite being a bit troublesome a student when back at school, James liked to think that he had been able to push his way into the heart of his favourite teacher. He might even, in certain situations (say a drinking argument with Sirius), claim to be her best one ever, but the truth was that he had actually always really wanted to be as dear to her as she was to him. Minerva McGonagall, better known as Minnie or McGee, had stormed into his life on his first day of school and James had been absolutely swept off his feet. She was everything he wanted to be as a grown-up — a magically powerful person with such a powerful personality that despite only starting out as a teacher had commandeered respect. And she might have been his very first teenage crush, but oh he was so not letting anyone know about that. 

After finishing school ha had some trouble with finding a steady ground when it came to interacting with his former teacher, but as the years went by and the age gap grew less prominent the interactions became easier. A cuppa here and there while discussing Order business, MM’s politics or the latest Quidditch match had become a bit of a tradition. 

Her sudden appearance next to him caught him off guard. And it definitely shouldn’t have, but he had sort of been distracted with a cat he thought was a witch in her animagus form. However, as soon as he heard her steps beside him (a tiny moment before she kneeled down next to him) his hand moved to the wand he liked to carry in his back pocket. 

As soon as her greeting words with their amused tilt registered in his ears he relaxed a bit. That surely was Minnie, no doubt about it. ‘I’d say it’s a British thing. Who doesn’t like some good tea?’ He argued quickly though he wasn’t really embarrassed about being caught talking to a cat. It was a bit of a running joke for the boys and they definitely had been caught before by less understanding people. ‘Alright. Let me put the kettle on.’ He answered and stood up opening his door with an over the top flourish making sure it was obvious that he wanted her to go in first —- like a well-behaved gentleman. ‘I don’t think I have tuna, but I might find some sardines.’

Minerva made a habit of watching him and a few other students for a reason. She might not have kids of her own — and truthfully their ages were too close to consider them kids of her own — but she still saw them as family and someones to protect. As much as she believed in their abilities and their position in the Order, she knew well enough that relying solely on belief sometimes got people hurt. So she took it a step further and feline-stalked them at times. Nothing creepy, she’d assure you, just when she’d heard of someone going to be on the attack.

Her fingers found the middle of the stray, the other hand coming around to scoop beneath their feet and hoist them up against her as she sidled past James and into his place with the cat cuddled up to her almost too at home; it was likely because she smelled a lot like him and truly Minerva had a rapport with animals.

“Sardines will work, the bones are edible and she might actually like that.” Her fingers came around to scratch along the side of the cat’s neck and she looked over James’ place almost as a disappointed older sister might. Not that he kept it in disarray or that things were gross, but because she truly wanted more for him than he had right now, and she knew that’d never happen until the War was settled.

Even though he had thrown her into the deep end, she had adjusted quickly. Clever as she was, she moved to give him a better view of the target. He saw the man approach the crosswalk and wait for the light to change. Now wasn’t the time to try to grab the man, as there was no cover to do his questioning. So, he stayed in his position. 

“I’ll make sure it ends well before then.” He was aware of her commitments to the school, although he was fairly certain she would’ve done well as an Auror. This task, he knew, wouldn’t take very long. 

The light eventually turned, and the target made his way across. Rufus took one of her hands and wrapped it around his arm, keeping up the appearance as if they were a couple. He tilted his head down closer to her’s, as if he might be telling her something sweet in her ear. “We’ll keep a little distance between us and him.” 

Leading the way across the street, he made a point of glancing down at her every now and then to keep up appearances. Wherever the target went, they weren’t far behind. “I can’t help but notice that you seem practiced, or at least somewhat comfortable in this sort of situation. I suppose you keeping an eye on your people has given you practice with this sort of thing.” He was digging, he knew, but he couldn’t shake the curiosity. It had been a bit of a surprise how well she was taking it so far. In any case, he supposed that he ought to count himself lucky on this one.

The man took a turn down an alley, and Rufus led them just to the corner. Cautiously, he crept forward and peered around the corner. His target appeared to be approaching another person who’d been waiting in the alley. He couldn’t get a clear view of the second person, except for just the back of the person’s head, as they were standing behind a dumpster. The two people didn’t talk for very long, and soon his target was making his way back toward them. 

Rufus pulled his head back. “Here he comes. I’ll grab him if you keep a lookout to make sure no one comes this way.”

The appearance of being a couple was not something she was used to, publically, but she was more than familiar with, in a more private setting. She spent most of her free time away from the Order or work ( which was very little to begin with ) wrapped in Moody’s embrace in the same way. This public eye thing didn’t bother her only because she was confident in who she was, where she stood, and what it meant to help out an Auror.

She smiled as he leaned down, even managing to affect a small blush, her eyes darting up to his face and her words didn’t quite match the expression, but they also weren’t harsh, “I have siblings, and I have a life outside of my work at school. I’ve learned over time how to be what I can to everyone while still being me, no?”

Her attention dragged down to glance at the man they were tailing —a flitting of her eyes over his person to make sure that, when her eyes weren’t focused, she could still track his position without looking directly at him — then back up to Rufus. She said nothing but gave him the most adoring eyes, and if one were keen they might have seen something else in her mind’s eye for that moment.

He’d hardly noticed her slip out her wand to heal his hands, and he couldn’t help but smirk at it. She was sneaky. At once, his hands felt much better. Although, he knew better than to remove his bandages now. Call it paranoia, but he didn’t want some nosy tosser to notice that he had bandages on one moment and then not the next. Maybe all the years in the field were getting to him. But she seemed to do the same, looking at his hands for longer than was necessary to keep up the facade. When she did let go, he nodded in thanks and dropped his hands to his side. 

A curious look spread across his face when she answered his question. Too protective of. That was interesting, but he didn’t press further. “I see,” was all he said. It wasn’t his place to pry into her business, and it seemed hardly unreasonable for her to go and make sure the people she cared about were safe, especially in times like these. 

Rufus shook his head at her suggestion. “London is large. And if you say that he’s gone to the Underground, which I think you’re likely right about, then there’s a snowball’s chance in Hell that we’ll find him.” If his target had half a brain, the man wouldn’t backtrack from the direction he came.

Something moved just beyond her. “Unless…,” his voice trailed. He moved his head a little to her left and squinted his eyes in an attempt to get a clearer look at someone who suspiciously looked like the man he’d been trailing. “Unless he’s a complete idiot.” 

There was the bastard walking right toward them. He wondered if the man was returning from somewhere, or had made a brief stop and was heading to his true destination. “He’s coming right by. Keep your eyes down.” As he instructed her, he, too, averted his gaze downward but kept the corner of his eye able to watch the man who now walked right by them without noticing, or at least didn’t appear to notice them. 

To be safe, Rufus stayed where he was for a few moments. Keeping an eye on his target, he asked her, “Want to follow him with me? I might need to ask him some questions, and he does seem to be slippery son of a bitch.”

It was oftentimes surprising to Minerva just how absorbed people got in their own business. They had gotten curious glances for their focus, but when people realized it wasn’t some great scandal they’d started to ignore them. As if cued by the others before them, new people who walked past didn’t even spare them another glance.  She wondered, if only briefly, whether muggles were ignorant to wizards because of the effort of wizards, or for their own self-interests.

For a moment she was disheartened at Rufus’ refusal of her help, not because she was insulted but because Minerva was truly bored a lot of the time. As his attention drifted over her shoulder and he began to speak hushedly (and hurriedly) again, she gave a small knowing nod. Her fingers went from his hands to curl against his forearm as if they were lovers or old friends. No one wanted to see PDA so most people would avoid looking at two people who seemed far too cosy for their own good, “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch and play along, eh, Rufus?”

Part of her knew he was aware of how to play along in situations like this, and her head dipped briefly against his shoulder to give him a better reason to shift and glance at the man to get a clearer look, nodding all the while at his suggestion, “You have me until I’m needed back at school, which shouldn’t be until tomorrow, truth be told.”

The excitement was something she wanted, something to get her mind off what was happening around them and the danger that the people she cared about were in. Anything at all to make her feel less trapped in her situation. She loved teaching — she wouldn’t give it up for the world, even if someone begged her — but deep down in her heart of hearts, she wanted to be more useful to the cause and doing more... daring things, she supposed.

Bloise tried not to frequent Order safe houses very often, they were needed by those currently on active missions much more than he and he has his own apartment to remain in. But, there was a reason he was reluctant to return. His sister said she’d be stopping by to drop off some new ingredients he’d wanted since there wasn’t room in the shop and he wasn’t… in a state he’d want her to see. 

He tried to keep his anger his check, he was much better at it now but, those two murders, on the edge of such a happy party, one he’d taken his sister too! He’d put her in danger, he should’ve known better, he should’ve been more vigilant. Alastor would be ashamed. So he’d gone sparring, turned a desk into a wooden manakin and punched, kicked, tackled and head-butted till he felt able to think again. All that was left behind was a hollow feeling of shame and two heavily scratched and bleeding hands. 

So he was hiding for lack of a better word. He’d sneak back home after he was sure Niniane would have been and gone and fix himself up. Or at least that was the plan until the door opened and he jolted up to see his old Transfiguration teacher walk in. “Professor McGonagall. I-I didn’t know his house was in use Ma’am.” he said politely, keeping his head down and (somewhat childishly) trying to hide his battered hands behind his back.

She generally got to them when they weren’t in use, as it made it easier to pass herself off as some muggle just off about their business if she didn’t get surprised when she came in on someone. There was generally a roster of people and the jobs they were doing in which areas, so she generally knew when things were safe and when they weren’t. 

It made seeing the lights on in the old safe house even more startling, and she’d crept in by the shade of the curtains pulled deep across the windows to find Bloise there just losing it on a manakin. A moment’s pause was given, which gave him ample time to notice her there, and she gave a soft sigh and a shrug of her shoulders. At that moment, he reminded her more of Alastor than he would probably be comfortable with.

Where: Muggle London, a street close to his flat When: A few days after the murders With: @shesall

The sound of his apparation scared away one of the many stray cats that frequented his neighbourhood. The ruckus it created (the sound of a flower pot falling to the ground and breaking into tiny pieces as the underfed tabby unbalanced it along the way) was definitely louder than any apparation or disapparation ever and James had to actually look around to make sure no one’s attention got picked because of it. Fortunately, most likely due to the late hour, the street was empty without even a single car driving in or away, leaving James in the clear. He could breathe a sigh of relief since actually having to deal with the exposure would simply be too much for today. Or tomorrow, or even a week after that. 

The life right now was even more hectic than usual, and that said a lot considering the ongoing war, but somehow the universe and the dark bastards had been able to manage just that. The whole Department had been thrown into what felt like a typhoon with people running in and out of the offices and then some more even though the whole investigation was most likely going to end up on top of the unsolved-cases case pile. He grimaced at the thought as he moved in the direction of his flat absolutely unable to clear his head from the depressing thought. There was too little good in his life nowaday and even less so as his best friends got sent away on separate missions and he got stranded alone in London with nothing but his owl for company… And apparently another stray that seemed to be following him for the last hundred meters or so. 

She wondered for a moment if she should just make her way on, let James think he knew everything only to find out he was offering tea to an actual cat and likely having a long conversation with it about things that he ought not to be talking to normal, everyday cats about. But in some ways that seemed far too cruel for her to do to her favorite former student.

Minerva wasn’t a cat as she stepped out of the shadows, but she did kneel down next to James ( a man who was probably wise enough to have shifted a hand towards his wand at a sudden shadow at his side ) and scritch just beneath the cat’s chin, offering it a warm smile. She loved cats, and perhaps that’s why she favored them in her transfigurations of her own person, “You know, Mr. Potter, it’s really strange to offer cats tea?”

Now her gaze lifted to find him, and there was a hint of amusement across her face. His son, in the far future, wouldn’t ever see that look too much, but as it stood she felt like the world was wrong but not so wrong as to give up on it or lose her mirth; a moment’s pause, and she offered, “I’ll take her cuppa, though, and perhaps we can get her a bite of tinned tuna instead?”

It felt odd just standing there, letting her do whatever she was doing - was that an actual medical kit? Apparently the woman was prepared for anything. He was slightly worried that someone was going to notice one of them bandaging the other’s hands while talking; but, he also learned right then and there that Muggles didn’t really care what sort of oddities were going right in front of their faces. 

Though he couldn’t completely relax, some tensions eased away. Her touch was gentle as she wrapped the soft bandages around his hands; he wondered if she’d done this before. She brought up his admittedly reckless decision, but he couldn’t help an amused small smile. 

What his mind now focused on was who and why she was following someone too. He wasn’t aware that keeping track of someone was part of a teacher’s job. At her answer to his previous question, he hummed in agreement, though he’d now accepted that he’d have to find another opportunity to tail his target. “I don’t exactly know the extent he’s involved, only that he is. I’m sure I’ll get another chance soon; he wasn’t the hardest person to find to begin with. I doubt he’s about to do anything dangerous, so no, pursuing him isn’t necessary today. I tend to get carried away, or so I’ve been told.” He chuckled a little at his last statement. 

“Thank you, by the way.” He nodded at his hands. Usually, he tended to his own injuries, but he wasn’t complaining. Not one for lingering on thanks, he pushed the conversation back to what she’d been doing. “What about you? You need to get back to keeping an eye on someone? Seeing as I’ve lost my work, I’d be happy to help with yours.” 

She probably didn’t need his help, as she was a skilled witch in her own right and she appeared to be prepared for anything, given the medical kit. However, he thought that it was only fair to offer her assistance when she’d given hers.

Eventually, in all her cleverness, Minerva managed to get her wand wedged against her hand, out of sight but able to move with all her ‘fussing’ over his hands and managed to mutter beneath her breath — ignored by most people because they’d been chatting anyway — and heal his hands up beneath the bandages. It did nothing for the bloodstains on his pants, and it was still hidden away behind the gauze, but it did mean it wouldn’t hurt, bleed anymore, or get infected under there, which was a plus.

Making sure, more for her sake than his, she doted upon his hands for a few moments longer before letting them go and offering him a tight smile; it wasn’t because she wasn’t happy to see him or happy for the help, but more just because that’s generally the kind of smile Minerva gave to everyone — friendly, but not too much so.

“Mine’s less dire. I was keeping an eye on some people that I’m... probably too protective of.” To most, that list would be relatively small, but in her mind, it was too far to scope properly on most days. It didn’t help that most of them were spread out at any given time and all had different jobs and levels of necessary anonymity to her at any given time, “Not so much fugitives or runners as people with things to do that I check in on.”

Was she giving too much away? It was hard to say. There were many people who knew — or at least surmised, as Minerva felt pretty confident her business wasn’t anyone else’s — about her closeness to Moody, but with the rest of them ( the former students and the ones she felt surprisingly too protective of ) she wasn’t quite sure how many of them would put those pieces together. The fewer people who knew was probably better as it meant that people couldn’t use it against either of them.

Muggles continued to walk right by him, not paying him any attention. Some had bothered to give him a ‘what the hell’ look, but no one answered his question. Then, someone was asking him a question. Rufus turned to see someone who was most definitely not a Muggle but was dressed like one. An eyebrow raised in confusion and surprise at seeing her there dressed to blend in with the people around them. 

At her request to see his hand, he looked down at them to see smeared blood across his palms. “Goddammit,” he mumbled, realizing that he’d probably gotten blood on his navy slacks. It wasn’t like he could just clean that right away either, since he was in a public space. Now, he’d have to get around Muggle London with smeared blood on him; not subtle at all. 

Without much thinking, he extended his arms so that she could have a look at his hands; he wasn’t sure which one she’d wanted to see. “Someone I was tailing,” Rufus answered distractedly as he continued to look around for any signs of his target. Unfortunately, the man was in the wind now. “Think he was going to meet someone.” He stopped himself from saying anything more and turned his focus to her. His brain was still in pursuit mode, but he knew that he was going to have to accept the fact that he’d lost his man. 

“I don’t suppose you saw a man in a grey sweatshirt and blue cap,” he repeated his question, although this time to her only. He didn’t expect a positive answer, since she probably would have told him if she had, but it was worth an ask.

It then occurred to him that the odds seemed rather slim that they were both there. The young Hogwarts professor no doubt had her own reasons, and it wasn’t his business to know. That didn’t stop him. “Didn’t recognize you at first. Taking in Muggle London as the locals do?”

Sometimes — just sometimes — when she was dealing with an Auror other than Moody, she realized just how alike they all were. They got so caught up in their missions sometimes that they took in very little outside of the important details. She hadn’t been in his purview because of his focus on catching up with his target, and so her being there at all had to have been kind of a shock, especially dressed as she was.

Minerva took both his hands in hers, turning them over and keeping an eye on the passers-by, and though she wanted to heal them she knew that was too far of a breach to do right in front of an Auror who would be obligated to tell people. Bit of a paradox, that. So instead she pulled out a small first aid kit — it might or might not have been there the entire time, hard to say — and wrapped his hands in some gauze, lifting her shoulders in a shrug as she spoke, “I was keeping an eye on someone, same as you. Just less harried about it.”

At his question, she darted her eyes up to his face and offered a half-smile, shaking her head minutely, “I mean probably have seen people fitting that description, but not in the last five minutes or so. If he was smart he ducked into the crowds then slipped into the underground; I’d say check there but it’s a busy part of the day so I’d say he’s lost. Was he...”

She paused, wondering if she should ask, but then giving way to her curiosity before too long, “Was he someone important? Should I let you get back to it for fear of what might happen if you do not?”

Tailing people was about as much fun as it sounded - it wasn’t. And yet, it had its uses. After all, how was he supposed to know where his potential suspect went? He wasn’t going to get an answer directly, that was for sure. 

Rufus kept a safe distance away to make sure that his target remained oblivious. Why did his target decide to go into Muggle London and make it more difficult? He could only guess, but he hoped the destination would be close by. Where the hell are you going? His target ran across the street, dodging cars with a shit ton of luck to make it to the other side. This left Rufus stuck on the other side of the street. “Fuck.” His target was getting further by the second, and the walking light told him not to cross. Sod it. 

Stepping off the curb, he looked and tried to gauge how fast the cars were going. One whizzed right by him. Taking a deep breath, he ran across the first lane. He was getting honked at now, but he wasn’t going to turn back. Second lane. Third. Now to the last one. A car was quickly approaching and showed no signs of slowing down, so Rufus did the only thing he could: hurl himself forward and hope he could jump far enough. His landing was anything but graceful, barely catching himself with his hands, but as far as he could tell, he wasn’t dead. The palm of his hands stung from all the little tears caused by the sidewalk pavement, but that was about it. 

Today's outing had been to keep an eye on some of her former students — she was always worried about them and if they knew just how often she tailed them, as a cat or otherwise, she’d probably get some guff from someone or another — and she was more surprised to see Rufus than he was likely to be surprised at seeing her.

Her eyes darted to his scuffed hand and the trail of blood he left on his pants, before murmuring softly so that passers-by wouldn’t hear, “Who are you after and why  here?”

It was none of her business, but Rufus sort of had that look about him — she’d be hard-pressed to get the answer out of him, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t try, “Also let me look at your hand, no one will think twice of it and it gives you a chance to gain your bearings; hunting in a panic won’t do.”