He wasn’t happy that he had startled her, but he was glad to see her smile, even if it was only slight, as she crossed the room to greet him. He knew Minerva well enough to know that greeting her as he did most others he was close too, with a hug or a kiss on the cheek, she would recoil uncomfortably so when she squeezed his shoulder his simply smiled brightly in return. “I couldn’t turn up empty handed, now could I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as she placed her hands on her hips as if attempting to tell him off when he knew she wasn’t the least bit annoyed. “Besides, if they sit in my flat any longer I will eat the lot myself and I’m already letting myself go as it is” he joked.
He moved over to the kitchen table and set the biscuit tin down in the middle so that both of them could reach inside. He stood by one of the chairs, his hand resting on the top of it supporting his weight as he leaned against it. “Overworked and underpaid” he quipped, chuckling drily, before shaking his head. “I’m as fine as I can be, and yourself, Minerva?” he asked, curiously, eyes sweeping over her. Minerva had become a quick and close friend and anyone who Marcus became close too immediately fell under his care and protection, whether they liked it or not. He knew that usually, when she invited him for tea, it was because of a need of distraction from something or the need to vent. “I didn’t, other than the large pile of paperwork that has been sitting on coffee table for five days and I have not intention of doing…” he said, “truly, Minerva, I would rather be here”.
He passed her his scarf and coat, smiling as the enchanted hangers came to whisk them away. He lived a very muggle lifestyle, something his parents pretended he didn’t do, but he always enjoyed being surrounded by magic. “Trouble? Me? Never” he said, acting as if he was offended as he sat down and made to add sugar to the tea that had been poured in front of him. “Let’s see; I argued with my mother over the idea of arranged marriage for the ninetieth time, I met a rather beautiful seer, I adopted a Niffler and my boss still wants to fire me, but can’t because I’m amazing” he rounded off, grinning. “What have you been up to since last we spoke?”
“I suppose you couldn’t. It’s unfortunate that I love these, though, because now I’ve got to worry about my figure.” Minerva responded with a light laugh, her attention quickly diverting to the tin and she popped off the lid without another word. Nimbly her fingers searched until they plucked out the perfect bit, which she immediately popped in her mouth. A sweet, flaky flavor - she had truly not given herself enough freedom in the past few years. This tiny moment had her mouth watering, her eyes shutting as she savored the seconds. When the flavor had left her, Minerva searched for one more bit before finally turning back to Marcus. “See? They’re rather addicting.” Oh, she could go through tins and tins of biscuits if she so let herself. But she had always had an unnerving amount of self control.
“Yes, I believe that’s how a lot of people feel.” Being a Professor was more rewarding than any other job she had acquired before Hogwarts became her true home, yet she sometimes felt the stress weigh heavily on her. She was tired, and overworked, and the pay was nothing great - but the job brought her joy and longing. It kept her happy, entertained, proud. “I’m okay.” She responded, another smile tugging at her lips. “Tired this morning, I think. But that’s nothing new.” Minerva waved a hand nonchalantly in his direction and sat on one of her kitchen chairs, leg crossed neatly over the other. “You’ve chosen me over paperwork? I’m honored.” Sarcasm was not unfamiliar to Minerva, not when her students were becoming more and more out of order as the years went by. She taught the Prewett’s, after all, and all of Potter’s little friends. Survival came in bursts of wit.
“Arranged marriage, Merlin, that’s an outdated premise.” It was one thing she absolutely did not stand for. Purebloods marrying off to other Purebloods, keeping titles and names that made no sense. Ridiculous notion. “Wait, wait. You met a seer? And a beautiful one at that? Now this is the sort of news I am desperate to hear.” Minerva might have been a professional woman within her social affairs, but behind closed doors she was just as eager for gossip as anyone else. “A Niffler, how unique.” She paused, another laugh following her words. “Yes, yes, you’re too cocky for your own good. I’ve learned that much already. And, well, I haven’t done much of anything myself lately. I want to keep talking about the seer. Can’t you find a girl with more...respectable ideals?”
