“Minerva.” His understated nod always annoyed her from the outset.


“Good morning, doctor.” She sat down across from his desk, preferring it over the couch – so predictable with its brown leather.


“So, how are you?”


“Fine, good.” She looked absently at her skirt. He was silent, she looked up. “…What?”


“Well, it wasn’t exactly an avenue to small talk. We only have an hour after all.” He had been seeing her for long enough to know this wasn’t too harsh.


“Right…old habits…” she felt the need to annoy him in retaliation for the nod. Now they were even.


“So – how have you been?”


“Well, a wee bit tired actually.”


“Tired?”


“Mmm, yes.” Back to staring at her skirt.


“Why?”


“Well, there’s much to be done this time of year. My seventh years are taking their final exams in three months and…oh,” she sighed heavily, “they try hard but I’ve never had a less capable class.”


“Yes?...”


“And of course the other teachers are under pressure and they are bringing me the most ridiculous issues. But I know they’re as stressed as I am…”


“Unusual isn’t it?”


“Excuse me?”


“Well, I’d imagine you weren’t appointed deputy headmistress of Hogwarts just because you had the average witch’s coping skills. You are particularly good at dealing with stress, are you not?”


“I suppose…yes, I suppose I am.”


“So, tell me, do you think you are stressed because you are tired or in fact are you tired because of something that has stressed you?”


“I confess, doctor, I haven’t the faintest clue where you are going with this…”


“Minerva – tell me; how are you sleeping at the moment?”


“Laying down, naturally!...” She smiled at his predictable reaction more than her own joke. “Doctor, I must tell you that you are really a devastatingly humourless man.”


“Yes.”


“Oh, alright…I’m not really.”


“Not?”


“Sleeping.”


“At all?”


“I get one or two hours a night,” she sighed, “sometimes none.”


“Ever more?”


“No.”


“How long has this been going on?”


“Perhaps a week.”


“You didn’t mention it last time I saw you.”


“No, well, less thank two weeks then I suppose.”


“Why?”


“Because I saw you two weeks ago and I didn’t –“


“No, I mean why aren’t you sleeping?”


“I believe that’s your job, doctor!” She giggled quietly. He paused for a while.


She didn’t mind, she had no doubt he was planning something confronting as usual, he needed to gather his thoughts. At these moments she wondered, what was the point of going to see a psychologist who was less intelligent than one’s self?

But, she conceded, as she always did, it was a quiet hour that she could spend away from the school and at this time of year especially, that was priceless.


“Which teacher was it that was sick last week?” He wasn’t looking at her, but studying some papers in front of him as if the answer might be there. She knew he was waiting for her to answer all the same. Damn him for not being too stupid.


“Sorry..?”


“You had to cancel last week…to fill in for..?” He abandoned his papers to meet her eyes.


“Oh, yes of course. I did, yes…It was Flitwick, Charms…nasty, nasty…virus.”


“Hmm.” He broke his stare, though she knew he was only just beginning. “And your lesson was?”


“Well, it was, ah, levitation.”


“Minerva,” she knew what was coming. He did things like this every now and then, strangely enough always just after she decided it was a quiet hour…could he read her mind? “It’s one month until exams, are you expecting me to believe that Flitwick is teaching levity charms a month before the end of the school year?


“Doctor, I don’t care what you believe, I mean, revision has to be—“


“Minerva! If you weren’t so tired you would have been able to tell me exactly what Flitwick’s lesson plan was for last week, this week and the week after. As it is I would be surprised if you could tell me your own lesson plan for tomorrow.” His voice had softened, but not enough to make her feel anything more than a berated student. “Luckily I don’t need you to tell me that – but what I do need you to tell me is exactly what happened one week ago to cause such serious sleep deprivation…” she still didn’t look up. “Minerva,” he spoke so softly now that she almost didn’t hear him, “Minerva, look at me,” she looked up, “this really isn’t a useless hour. I wish you would understand that this isn’t an excuse for weakness or to get away from it all for 60 minutes a week – I can help you, I wish you would let me.”


“…I couldn’t make the appointment because I had a meeting with Albus.”


“And what was this meeting about?”


“I hardly know…I think, I don’t know…”


“Minerva?”


“You know, the same old Albus – it was about exorcising his authority.”


“Was there anyone else in  this meeting?”


“No.”


“So, exorcising his authority over you?”


“Yes…” she looked out of the window. She felt she might cry now and she refused to. She detached herself from the tears, pushed them back to wherever they came from.


“What are you thinking about?”


“…just, it never ceases to amaze me how much and how little he cares. Clever really, the way he does it.”


“Clever?”


“Well, I mean, frustrating and…devastating...but there must be an art to it.”


“You admire it?”


“No, I don’t think I do. But I find it interesting because people are usually one or the other, aren’t they? Either cold and distant, aloof, or you know, warm and affectionate, maybe even clingy. But either way, there’s an obvious tendency in most people to be one or the other

“Which are you?”


“Well I’m…”she thought for a few moments, “well, now that you ask, perhaps it’s not quite so black and white. It would depend on who you asked I suppose.”


“I’m asking you.”


“Yes,” she smiled at him, companionably this time, “I thought so.”


“So, the one who cares too little or too much?”


“…I am the latter I think, but I try hard not to be. Maybe…” he gave her a look which meant if she didn’t finish what she was going to say he would make her anyway. “Maybe I try a bit too hard and have become the former though.” She sighed, a real sigh.


“Interesting.”


“I’m sure.”


“And how did Albus choose to exorcise his authority last week?” She looked down, he eyes filled with those damn tears again.

___________________


She was a few minutes early, but he wouldn’t mind that. She briefly wondered if he might actually like it, wondered if it might be another sign of submission on her part. She emptied her mind of the thoughts and spoke the password to the stone gargoyle. Ascending the stairs she tried not to imagine she knew what was coming.


He was sitting in his chair by the fire.


“Early, Minerva.” His voice was pleasant but low and he didn’t look away from the flames.


“Shall I come back later?”


“No, no, have a seat, please.” He gestured to the other armchair. “As you see, I am having a moment of inactivity. Nice once in a while.” He looked at her over his spectacles. She knew anyone would have interpreted his look as an innocent summing-up, but she knew better, or perhaps he only saved that hint of malice for the looks he gave her.


“You conference was eventful?” she hoped against hope that this was the reason for the meeting.


She had been summoned by owl and the note contained no explanation, but her stomach had sunk the moment she read it. He waved his hands flippantly.


“It was as they always are – drawn out for a week when they could have said everything they needed to in a day or so. However I had some interesting conversations with Maxime and Karkaroff about a student exchange program.”


She began to feel like she was wrong, like it was just one of their catch-ups.


“Well, at least something good came from it then. Shall I organise a staff meeting for you to go through the finer points?” she pulled a diary and a quill from her skirts and they began jotting notes.


“Certainly, though…” he paused and took a sip from a goblet on the table by his chair. “I was rather more interesting in what has been going on at Hogwarts while I have been away.” His voice was menacing now, he was hiding his anger no longer.


She felt sick to her stomach.


“Minerva?” His tone was accusing and she hadn’t quite decided how to play it yet, but her instincts took over.


“What in particular is the problem, Headmaster?” she was grateful that her voice was steadier than her heart.


“I am under the impression that a reporter has been allowed access to certain students and certain…areas…” he spoke the word with spite and gave her a piercing hateful look that she never quite got used to, “that are completely inappropriate for reporters to infiltrate.” She smiled slightly at this. trust Albus to imagine this as some kind of war.


“I was told that you yourself had given permission for Miss Skeeter to do her story. I was contacted by Lucius and Snape was aware of the situation.” She had gone out on a limb in saying her name, silly really of her to be so blasé and detached with the “Miss” but she was in a sort of survival mode.


Dumbledore stood up swiftly and to his full height, he leaned threateningly over her.


“You know perfectly well what my response would have been to such a ridiculous proposition.” He was booming, she couldn’t keep his eye anymore, she looked down quickly. In that movement she made herself more of a victim than coming three minutes early to a meeting could ever make her. She could never draw strength when it counted. Not then, not now.


__________________


“…Minerva?” He pushed the box of tissues across the desk.


“I don’t need the tissues!” It came out more aggressively than she meant it to. She was angry at herself.


“There’s no need to be angry, you’re perfectly entitled to cry…and the tissues are no extra charge.” She smiled through her tears and took a tissue as a peaceful gesture as much as because she actually need one.


“Perhaps you should stick to humourless, Doctor.” He returned her smile.


“Quite.”


“I don’t need to cry. “She wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks.


“Well, I must beg to differ because you appear in fact to be doing exactly that and one generally only does when one needs to.”


“Well, I don’t want to cry then.”


“Something about pretending not to care in that I’m sure…” she didn’t reply. “Alright, You were about to tell me what the meeting was about…” she took a deep, but shaky breath. She felt that he knew she was going to tell him and that he wouldn’t push, so she took her time.


“He’s put a stop to…” she looked down, the tears returned and this time she gave into them.


She cried now, into her hands, uncaring. She took several tissues and blew her nose. Now it wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him, but she wondered if she could even make the words with her tongue and her mouth. Her shoulders heaved and pained noises escaped her lips.

________________


He was more angry than she had seen him in years.


“You know where I stand on this issue and you know in turn where you must stand if you want to keep your position in my school!”


She wasn’t surprised. She had heard that ultimatum before as well.


Why though…why did she have to choose between the two things she loved the most? And why did the right decision have to be the most painful?

________________


Gradually, the tears subsided, but the pain was even stronger. She had almost forgotten where she was. The Doctor’s voice brought her back from her thoughts.


“Minerva, would you like a glass of water?” She lifted her face from her hands to find him kneeling beside her. She took several more tissues and nodded, even if to give her a moment to compose herself. He seemed to understand and took a little longer than one would need to take in order to pour a glass of water.


She sank back in the chair she had been perching on and let out a long sigh. He handed her the glass.


“Thank-you.” She sipped and thought. She actually felt quite a bit better now. Possibly she just needed a good cry. After a minute she spoke again.


“Rita.” He looked puzzled.


“Yes?..”


“That’s what he’s put a stop to.” She said it very calmly, very matter-of-factly. Yes, she had definitely overcome her tearful urges. He was still looking completely confused. She looked him in the eyes and spoke with a meaningful tone. “Rita and I…” she trailed off, watching the realisation hit him was almost fulfilling.


“You and Rita?...You and…Goodness!” he spluttered and she thought she even saw a slight smirk cross his face, the kind that all men suffer from when anything remotely lesbian-related is mentioned. It never failed to annoy her.


“I hardly think that’s a very professional response!” She adopted a very disappointed tone. He pulled himself together immediately. She wondered if perhaps she didn’t mind him so much after all…


“No, indeed, sorry. It’s just…well, Rita? Rita Skeeter?”


“The very same.”


“I must say, Minerva, she’s a bit…well…” he was obviously struggling with the idea, “you know…”


“In fact I do not know.” Though, of course, she did.


“I just mean, you’re a bit, out of her league aren’t you?”


“You can say ‘old’, Doctor!” She even smiled at his stumbling now.


“Well, not even that, I mean, surely your not…ah…intellectual equals.” He seemed to be happy with those words, but the look on her face must have made him re-think it. “Do you mind me saying?”


“Why should I? everyone else feels it their  right to question her intelligence.” She became sharp.


“I’m sorry.” She felt he really was, but still.


“Yes.” She looked at her lap again.


“I’m…no, really, I am sorry. You caught me off-guard with that one…” She had teared up again and was dabbing roughly at her eyes with a tissue. “Minerva…if you need to—“


“I’m fine…I just…seeing her again and Albus like that…and we three having such a history…” tears were streaming again “…and I wanted to think  I could re-capture some of the good times while he was away. Silly to have imagined it wouldn’t just open old wounds…” he seemed to be waiting for her to finish a sentence, but she wasn’t being very articulate. She paused.


“You may have to catch me up a little…”


“Well, it is complicated…”


“Relationships always are, Minerva.”


“Well…I mean, essentially, twenty years ago Rita was in her final year at Hogwarts, she was talented…when I say talented, she was the most intelligent of her year and one of the best witches I have ever met. She wanted to be an investigative journalist, she was exceptional at transfiguration, she was funny and kind and everyone liked her…” Minerva’s voice dropped, she lost all sense of where she was for a moment.


_______________


She was expecting the soft but confident rap on her study door the very moment it came. She hadn’t realised that she had been staring at the clock, her book forgotten in her lap, waiting for the second hand to hit the 12. Half past eight and not a second later. She smiled.


“Come in, Miss. Skeeter.” She placed the book on the small table beside her armchair.


“Good even, Proffessor!” As usual, her energy radiated from her person and voice. She smiled brightly and was laden with books which Minerva took from her arms and placed on the desk while Rita hung up her cape and sat down in the other armchair without being offered it. She noted that it made her happy that Rita felt so at ease in her presence. It was so nice to have someone who respected you without having to be forced to. At times during conversations Minerva had had to remind herself that seventh year or not, Rita was still a student. Her easiness was infectious.


She realised that Rita was chatting enthusiastically from the chair opposite.


“…because it’s actually a fantastic defence mechanism…are you alright, Proffessor?”


“Yes, quite.” Minerva smiled and nodded.


“I haven’t interrupted you have I?” She looked around instinctively as if she might see a pressing engagement hanging in the air. “I’m sorry; I should have double checked that you were free tonight. I was just so excited about this article…”


Rita had visited Minerva every Tuesday and Thursday night for extension on her regular studies. Rita was the epitome of Minerva as a girl, only quite a bit more attractive and quite a bit less skilled on the Quidditch pitch which left her with more acquaintances and less friends than Minerva herself had at her age.


“I was just thinking we should have some tea,” said Minerva.


“Oh! Yes.”


She looked sideways at the young girl now flipping quickly through a huge text book.


“Have you eaten this evening?”


“Ah…yes…” she was unconvincing.


“Rita!” Minerva couldn’t hide her exasperation. She had been through this with the girl a hundred times before. “Your studies are not more important than your health. You must take care of yourself, you are working so hard that if you don’t eat you’ll run yourself into the ground.” She spoke from experience.


Rita looked up with apologetic eyes. Her voice softened.


“You have exams coming up, you don’t want to get sick, that’s all.” Rita responded to the change in her tone by smiling broadly.


“If I wasn’t taking care of myself I couldn’t do this!...” Minerva crossed her arms and leaned back onto her desk as Rita stood up and closed her eyes in concentration. The girl began to slowly shrink and change colour. Then in a flash all that was left was a brilliant green beetle, hovering in the air.


She smiled despite herself. She would never have believed it possible that in just four weeks Rita had perfected human transfiguration. She knew, of course, that it was highly illegal, but Rita was so eager to achieve that if she hadn’t agreed to offering her guidance she would have done it anyway. And she didn’t want the girl in any danger.


The beetle flew in joyful circles around the room, dipping and rolling through the air. Minerva laughed and clapped as it landed on the back of the armchair. In another moment Rita was whole and human and perched on the arm, legs crossed, hands clasped around her knee smiling and posing like a film star.


“Thank-you, thank-you!” she gushed to an invisible crowd.


“My dear, you are a natural!” Rita slipped off the chair and skipped to where Minerva was standing. She pushed herself up onto the desk next to Minerva.


“Well, you know, I had some help.” Minerva smiled and turned slightly in time to watch Rita pull from the air behind her back a single white rose. She held it in front of Minerva.


“Oh…my dear, how sweet.” Rita, apparently overcome with embarrassment, looked down, he pale cheeks flushed scarlet. Minerva took the flower gently between thumb and forefinger. She twirled it slowly. “Rita, I’m…I’m terribly proud of you. You have achieved in four weeks something that most witches or wizards wouldn’t achieve in a lifetime.” Rita still avoiding eye contact let out a long sigh which said she knew what was coming. She tentatively reached out a finger and touched the hand holding the flower.


For Minerva there was a moment of expanded time. Her mind raced, but everything else slowed down. She had fought the urge many times before to take the girl in her arms but there was something in this moment, the contact, the proximity of their bodies, the way Rita sat, knees slightly apart.


Even  on the desk, Rita didn’t meet Minerva’s height. She looked down on the blonde curls, felt almost maternal and then realised how inappropriate that was in the circumstances. No, the circumstances were inappropriate. Or perhaps these extra-curricular evenings were inappropriate all together. Rita’s hand became more adventurous and she was now holding Minerva’s hand over the stem of the rose. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath.


“Rita,” she spoke softly, but firmly, “I enjoy spending time with you as you know, I think you are exceptionally bright and in fact,” Minerva surprised herself a little at the truth of the matter, “I would consider you a friend…but I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to lead you into anything more.” She paused; Rita still stroking her hand was distracting…and maybe quite nice.


No! This was foolishness! She pulled her hand away from Rita’s clutches and turned to face her front on. She took the girl’s shoulders and met her tearful eyes.


“As it is, Rita…” her voice fell away. She had been about to say ‘as it is, perhaps we spend a wee bit too much time together’ but couldn’t bring hersle fto make the words. She would miss the time they spent together if they didn’t have it. She enjoyed the young witche’s company. She would say she was fond of her…love? There was that maternal feeling…or was it that? The situation worried her but she couldn’t exactly catagorise any of it.


How long had they been staring into each other eyes? The question crossed her mind at the same moment that Rita sighed again, blinked and leaned forward. Minerva closed her eyes instinctively. Perhaps she even leant in a bit herself? She was aware of the subtle but fresh scent of Lavender as Rita pressed a determined kiss into the corner of her mouth.


She felt a familiar but surprising throb between her legs. She didn’t open her eyes, she only sensed that Rita hadn’t pulled away, their lips had parted but the kiss lingered in the air.


“Minerva,” she opened her eyes and was looking into Rita’s, full of life and love and glistening with tears. Rita slipped her hands around her waist and pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together. Rita’s legs tightening  around her was the last movement Minerva could recall, she was completely lost in a passionate kiss that she hoped would never end. Rita’s tongue encouraged the parting of her lips and Minerva let out a muffled moan.


_________________


“She was so beautiful…” Minerva whispered the words.


“Is she the reason you and Albus?...” His question shook her back to reality.


“Ah…” she blinked a couple of times, “yes…I, I tried to end it with him before it became too serious with Rita but of course, Albus is used to having his own way.”


“Did he know about her?”


“Not at first, I told him I thought it was a conflict of interest to be having a relationship with the Headmaster.”


“While you were having one with a student?”


“Thank-you, doctor, I’m well aware of the ridiculousness!” he smiled.


“Sorry, go on.”


“Well, Albus discovered us eventually of course. He was more angered by the fact that he was sharing me than the fact that one of his teachers was sleeping with a student.”


“He made life difficult for you?”


“Me? No, not me, Rita.” She said this last thing more quietly, unable to completely cover the guilt she still felt.


“He blamed her?”


“Oh no, not at all, well, maybe partially, he certainly despised her. I believe he took it out on her to get at both of us at once. I invested so much in that girl and…ohh…” she let out a tired sigh.


“Now she’s a gossip columnist.” He finished her sentence for her.


“And she can never expect anything more, he knows a lot of people.”


“Albus sabotaged her career?” He sounded truly shocked. Sometimes she forgot the kind of image he had, he was a good man, she did believe that, but he could be so different from what people imagined.


“More like her life – she deserved so much more. Well, I don’t know, she might be happy, in a way…”


“You didn’t stay in touch?”


“No. It was difficult…she blamed my relationship with Albus and I thought it better for her not to understand, not to want to stay in touch. I had hoped…I had hoped that he might have relented if we severed ties when she left. Alas…” her eyes prickled and she took a shuddering breath.


“It’s okay, take a sip of water.” She did.


“Ohh…she was just a child really. I forgot that. And she behaved exactly the way Albus expected her to. Exorcising authority isn’t a new technique.” She smiled sadly.


There was a pause in his questioning while she got up and went over to refill her own glass. She stood at the little table while she sipped.


“I saw her two weeks ago. She came to Hogwarts, commissioned by the Malfoy’s to do some hideously soppy piece on their son. She only managed it because Albus was on an international conference.” She took another sip and topped the glass up before walking back to her seat.


“Had she changed?”


“Not a bit…”


_________________


The window was open in order to make the most of the particularly fine day. The rain had been unforgiving for the past three weeks. She was revelling in being ahead with paperwork and in the sun streaming onto her desk.


It happened very suddenly; a flash of green out of the corner of her eye and though she was startled by the sudden movement she had already half expected to see a rogue Slytherin flying around.


Instead however, she was confronted with the playful grin of…Rita. All emerald robes, glossy nails and bouncing curls. She sat on the window sill as she had done on the armchair all those years ago, in mock-primness.


“Hello, love!” Rita’s grin widened as her mouth opened wider in shock.


“Rita…” she whispered, breathless. Rita slipped casually off the ledge.


“Working on a Saturday, Proffessor McGonagall? How unlike you!” Her tone, as playful as her smile only flustered Minerva further.


“How did you…? What did you…?”


“Oh, Min,” Rita held her at arms length by her shoulders. Minerva stood as though petrified, she could only stare. Was it really her?... Rita sighed “You haven’t changed a bit, dear.” And she pulled Minerva into a tight hug.


Perhaps it was merely the physical proximity to another person that woke her from her trance. Though, upon reflection, she was sure it had more to do with a particularly familiar scent of lavender and the softness of Rita’s curls on her cheek. She pulled back slightly from the embrace, took Rita’s face in her hands and kissed her with all the passion she had with-held these twenty years.


Rita’s hands worked with speedy accuracy to undo the clasp of Minerva’s cape. It fell to the floor with what seemed to be a poignant thud. She took a deep, shaky breath as Rita’s finger traced the line of her jaw, neck, collar bone. Rita smiled.


“Aren’t you going to ask me to bed?” At this, she recovered somewhat. She matched the playful smile.


“I’ve quite forgotten my manners.”


The two made their way to Minerva’s bedroom, lost in the happiness of being together and having what felt like all the time in the world. They took their time undressing one another. Minerva was aware of nothing but the softness of Rita’s skin beneath her aged and calloused finger tips...


_______________



“…well, she’s savvy now, worldlier, I suppose, but still full of life and enthusiasm and intelligence…” she shook her head, “wasted talent.”


“You sound quite smitten still.”


“…I never stopped loving her…”



_______________


Rita’s own fingers were unashamedly energetic. She seemed obsessed with recalling every curve, angle and hollow, every inch of skin by touch.


She gently kissed the soft skin of Minerva’s thigh and she took a sharp breath as Rita’s kisses got higher and harder. She could feel the warmth of Rita’s breath between her legs and could sense the young woman watching her reaction to the intimate stroke of her fingers.


Rita lowered her mouth and Minerva closed her eyes tightly. As she did so a tear escaped the corner of each eye, trickling into her tousled hair. She suddenly realised how she had longed for this moment but had given up hope of it ever happening again.


Physical sensations and emotions mingled in the moment that her back arched and fingers splayed and contracted gripping handfuls of silk bed sheets. Minerva gasped for air and let out a loud cry. In that moment she wanted to do nothing but hold Rita forever. She sat up suddenly and pulled the woman towards her, kissing her hard of her salty lips.


The two women lay exhausted on the bed and closed their eyes. After a moment Minerva turned to her side and laid her head in the warm hollow between neck and shoulder. They slept, leg entwined as though as long as they were physically connected, they could never be parted again.


____________________


“Minerva..?” he wanted eye contact from her, she looked up. “Minerva, you have to make a decision and live with it and not beat yourself up about it forever.


“I have done…and I am—“


“No, because ten hours sleep a week doesn’t constitute “living with it””


“That will get better in time.”


“And how do you know that?”


“Because the same thing happened twenty years ago, and went away eventually, I’ll be fine…” the little bell on the desk rang cheerfully. She summoned her most sincere smile, “I feel better already actually”


“I can give you a potent sleeping charm if you need—“


“No! No, I still need to be able to get up in the mornings!”


“Well, alright, just try to get some rest of a night, even if you can’t sleep.”


“Thank-you, Doctor.” She left without a backwards glance, determined, as she was every week, to cancel her next appointment.


___________________


“Dumbledore!” She instinctively pulled her dressing gown more tightly around her body. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow, is there anything wrong?”


“Not at all, Proffessor McGonagall. I have some interesting plans to discuss regarding the student exchange I was telling you about. There are some papers to be signed,” he lifted a leather parchment pouch as evidence, “must be done before tomorrow so may I have a moment?”


“Oh, certainly, certainly, come in.”


She didn’t wonder if he was checking up on her – she knew.


She made tea and they sat reading and signing and discussing the school. As the evening wore on, Minerva’s mind began to wander.


There was a time when we would have been discussing these things over something stronger. There was a time when he would have put his hand on mine, said “It’s getting late…”. We would have gone to bed. There was a time when he didn’t hate me so. Was it worth it…? For her…?


“Minerva?” His voice somewhat louder now roused her from her thoughts.


“Hmm?”


“I said, quite frankly, I don’t think it’s worth it, do you think?”


“Possibly not…” she replied softly. He didn’t notice her distance.


“Well that’s settled then. Karkaroff will be furious of course, but France will be lovely for the students.” He began stacking parchments back into the leather case. “I must take these back first thing in the morning. I shall send you an owl.”


It seemed that as suddenly as he had arrived, he was gone. Minerva sat at the table alone for a long time. Staring into the fire, she wondered if she would ever see Rita again.


She must have gone to bed at some stage, though she couldn’t recall leaving the table the night before. She woke but kept her eyes shut, not wanting to know what time it was. It was Saturday anyway and she had a feeling…something familiar that she didn’t want to let go of just yet. She had dreamt about Rita. The details were blured, but the face of the young witch was as clear as it was last week, as it was twenty years ago.


She opened her eyes and turned away from the light streaming through the open window. As her eyes cleared and focused she saw the rose, left on the pillow beside her, a single white rose. Her eyes filled with tears and she held it to her chest as she wept.