The end

May 22, 2006 19:39

Title: Love, Luck, Lust and Loss
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Minerva McGonagall (aged 31), Madam Rosmerta
Word Count: 2,436
Rating: PG something (character death)
Summary: It is December 1956 and Minerva sets out towards Hogwarts.
Author's Notes: A second story for millieweasley's history challenge **here**.

Exactly six months and over 67,000 words from the beginning, here is the final part of my story which tells one possible way that Minerva might have filled her years between leaving Hogwarts as a pupil and returning as a Professor. I can't quite believe that it's actually finished, but somehow it is.

Part: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one.



Part Twenty Two: The Epilogue, Part II

18th December, 1956

“Can I refill your glass?”

Minerva looked up into the face of the person who had just spoken to her. “Aye, it’s -“

“Gillywater, and I’m Rosmerta the new barmaid,” Rosmerta answered, a smile on her face.

“Thank you.”

The pub was quite full now, Minerva noticed as she looked around. There were people everywhere, standing in groups talking, sitting at the tables in companionable silence, pushing their way through the crowds to make their way to the bar.

It would be the cold weather bringing them in. Apart from the Three Broomsticks being a particularly welcoming hostelry with a comfortable atmosphere, there was a raging fire in the corner.

“You looked lost in thought,” Rosmerta offered when she brought the glass. “On your way up to the school are you?”

“I am,” Minerva answered, ignoring the first statement. She had no wish to reveal the thoughts she was lost in at that particular time. Her memories, especially the intimate ones, of Kiely weren’t something she discussed with anyone.

“New Professor?”

“Transfiguration.”

“Dumbledore will be glad. I’ve never known anyone as busy with all the things he does. I don’t know how he fits it all in.”

Minerva smiled, and passed over some coins. “I’m looking forward to it. Transfiguration is something every young person should become skilled in. Yourself?”

“Oh, I’m pretty good at transfiguring glasses into coins,” Rosmerta said with a laugh as she chinked the ones in her hand, turned and returned to the bar.

It was during February 1947 that Minerva took to drinking Gillywater instead of Butterbeer. Jocelyn, of course, had introduced her to it. Newly pregnant and incredibly excited about it, Jocelyn produced a bottle one evening when the two of them met to catch up with the latest news and make plans to actually prepare Minerva for her forthcoming nuptuals. Gillywater had properties, Jocelyn explained, that were beneficial to an unborn baby. It had been hard not to laugh. Newly pregnant, meant in this case (about two months pregnant) that there was little that even Gillywater could do to develop the baby’s lungs at that stage. It did taste rather nice though, and so had become a favourite.

Jocelyn finding herself pregnant and Minerva needing urgently a wedding dress had provided a fun day out for the two girls. As usual at first day light Minerva had untangled herself from Kiely, transformed into her feline form, left his flat from the little window and made her way back to her own.

Within a couple of hours, instead of starting her working day at the Ministry, she was at Jocelyn’s house in a neat Muggle neighbourhood, ready to go shopping to choose her dress.

“What colour?” Jocelyn asked.

“It’ll have to be white, of course,” Minerva had answered. Her parents would be horrified if she didn’t wear white.

With a single raised eyebrow Jocelyn caused uncharacteristic giggles from her friend. “White? Hmmmm … how inappropriate!”

“Really,” Minerva had retorted in mock shock. “Are you suggesting I am not pure, Jocelyn?”

“Actually, yes,” Jocelyn answered, and linked her arm into her friend’s and marched them along Diagon Alley to Madam Malkin’s robe shop. “We’re wanting a wedding dress, suitable for my friend here.”

Minerva’s blushes were assumed, by Madam Malkin herself, to be caused not by Jocelyn’s teasing tone of voice towards the colour of her dress, but the forthcoming post-marital ritual of consummation. “Have you known him long, dear?” she asked.

“Yes,” Minerva answered with a smile, casting a warning glance towards Jocelyn. “We met while working together.”

“Will you go on working after the wedding?” Madam Malkin asked, holding up dress after dress to shaken heads by either Minerva or Jocelyn.

“I, well … I like that one.” With a smile, Minerva took the dress and disappeared behind a curtain to try it.

“Will you?” Jocelyn asked, a little later as they walked in the bright cold February light along Diagon Alley.

“Will I what?”

“Carry on working?”

Minerva shrugged. “I suppose so, though maybe it’s time for a change of direction. I don’t want to be sent somewhere abroad again.”

“What about a house?” Jocelyn asked. “If you lived near us it would be wonderful.”

Minerva shrugged. They’d not thought beyond the day itself. Where they would live, or what she would do - though she was glad that Wizards didn’t adopt the Muggle custom of women giving up work to keep house. “There’s so much to consider. We’ll be okay where we are for now.”

“Where we are?” Jocelyn asked, her face alight with merriment again. “You mean you in your flat and Kiely next door in his.”

Minerva laughed, but divulged nothing. She’d not miss the trips around the garden fence in the pouring rain, or on icy frosty mornings. Waking up in Kiely’s bed, their bed, and not having to return to her own flat would be nice, and really about the only change in their normal day to day lives.

“Hmmm,” Jocelyn teased. “Just as I thought.”

“You can talk,” Minerva suggested, knocking her friend’s elbow with her own.

The rest of the day passed by with a constant handover of silver and gold and an equally constant receipt of parchment bags in exchange containing shoes, underwear, stockings, and other bridal accessories as well as some clothes for Jocelyn to expand into when the time came.

“We’ll see you later,” Jocelyn hugged Minerva as they made to part. “In the foyer at Rabnatt’s as usual.”

When Minerva and Kiely failed to arrive on time Blenheim ordered drinks from the bar and enjoyed sitting with his wife on the big squashy settee in the foyer where the four of them liked to meet up.

“And she’s wearing white,” Jocelyn said in mock disgust.

Blenheim laughed at his wife. She’d been only barely able to wear white herself. For all their determination to wait till their wedding night there was little that hadn’t come to pass between them, except perhaps the obvious. There was, as the Muggles liked to say, more than one way of skinning a cat and he and Jocelyn had learned several ways which stood them in very good stead prior to the big day. “Let’s hope she’s remembered the charm,” he suggested fondly, slipping his arm behind Jocelyn and tucking his fingers around her waist against her stomach.

“Oh I don’t know. A little friend for this one wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Sir?” the waiter asked. “Your table is ready.”

“We’re still waiting for our friends,” Blenheim explained, looking at his watch and then anxiously towards Jocelyn. “Can you give us ten more minutes please? I’m sure they won’t be long. They must be delayed, I’m sure they’d not deliberately be late.”

When the five minutes, the waiter’s compromise, had passed and then a second five minutes they stood, paid for their drinks and left the building. Blenheim suggested taking Jocelyn home and then making his way to Kiely’s flat to check that everything was okay. He was sure however carried away they might be in celebration of the purchase of Minerva’s wedding dress, that they’d not leave the two of them at the restaurant without good reason.

“Jocelyn,” he panted, running up the path and through their front door.

“I wish you’d Apparate sometimes,” she chastised irritably. “I’ve been worrying here. What happened? Why were you so long?”

“There’s no sign of them,” Blenheim panted. There were times when he wished there was a safe Apparition point in the neighbourhood, or that the Muggle neighbours didn’t think it was okay to just pop around for a chat and a cup of tea at all times. Appearing in the middle of the front room while Jocelyn talked about knitting patterns, or onto the landing just as Mrs Smithers next door emerged from the lavatory would just not do. “I’ve been back to the restaurant and they’ve not turned up there. You did definitely say Rabnatt’s and not Odin’s?”

“Yes, of course I did. Why would I say Odin’s? We used to go there with Alastor, not Kiely.”

“I know, I know,” Blenheim said, holding on to his side as he tried to get his breath again. He really wasn’t fit, that was something he ought to be right before he became a father. “I don’t know what else to suggest. Do you?”

“Get a glass of water, I’ll go and look.”

“You’ll do no such thing. If one of us is going out then it’ll be me. You get me a glass of water, I’ll go out again when I’ve drunk it.”

Jocelyn tutted, turned and stamped her feet on the way to the kitchen. Minerva was her friend, not Blenheim’s. She’d been the one to get to know the girl at school, and stay in touch afterwards. If it weren’t for her, he’d not know either of them and here he was trying to make out she was some sort of weakling unable to defend herself. She’d show him.

Her jaw set in defiance Jocelyn returned to the front room with the glass of water, more than tempted to tip it over her husband’s head. “Your water.”

“Jocelyn?” Blenheim held his hand out and winced at the tone of her voice. “I’m worried about them too.”

“Something’s happened. I know it.” Jocelyn said, as if to herself. “She’s been hurt. I can feel it. In here.” She rested her hand on her stomach.

“Sit down love,” Blenheim asked, his voice concerned. “Is it the baby?”

“No it’s not the baby.” Jocelyn turned to her husband, her voice clipped. “The baby is fine. It’s Minerva, something is wrong. We have to find her.”

“We stay together then,” Blenheim agreed reluctantly. “You don’t leave my side. Okay?”

“Blenheim -“

“Okay?” he asked again more firmly cutting her off before she tried to make a bargain about how it would be more efficient if they went their separate ways and met up later.

“Okay.”

Firstly they visited the restaurant again, there was no news of their friends the waiter told them. Then they went to Odin’s, to satisfy Jocelyn’s concerns that perhaps she had made a mistake without knowing it. Minerva and Kiely had not been seen there. Their flats were both in darkness, the curtains not pulled and no sign through the windows of anyone.

“St Mungo’s?” Jocelyn asked after they’d visited the Ministry to see if there had been an emergency and they’d had no time to send an apology to the restaurant.

Jocelyn would have walked right past the white faced, shaking, woman slumped on a chair if she’d not have recognised her hairstyle. Sinking to her knees she reached for Minerva’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“Aye,” Minerva nodded and then shook her head as a sob overtook her and she clung to Jocelyn, her head buried in the crook of her friend’s neck.

“The mediwizard wanted to know,” Blenheim reluctantly suggested some time later, “if you’d like to see him.”

Jocelyn looked up at her husband, her eyes pleading to know what had happened. What was wrong with Kiely? Was it Kiely they were talking about? She guessed so.

He shook his head miserably, his eyes offering apology.

Minerva didn’t reply. She lifted her head from Jocelyn’s shoulder and looked to Blenheim. “Do I?”

“Minerva?” Jocelyn asked, reaching to take her hand between her own.

“Blenheim. Do I want to see him?”

“Blenheim?” Jocelyn felt so confused. Why wouldn’t Minerva want to see her fiancé? “What’s happened? Is he hurt?”

Blenheim stood helplessly looking at the two woman. Minerva sitting on the uncomfortable looking seat against a plain grey wall, looking as if the life had been sucked from her but not quite enough to finish her off, while Jocelyn looked at him with the request to understand what had happened. He couldn’t believe that Kiely Goodwin was dead, was never going to laugh again, never hold his wife in his arms, never know the thrill of being a father. Dead as if life had just stopped, no signs of struggle, of being killed. Just a blank face, with the smallest sign of surprise upon it’s features.

“Another gillywater,” Minerva confirmed with Rosmerta. “I’d better make this one my last, I think. I don’t want to make a bad impression on my first day by arriving under the influence.”

“Coming up,” Rosmerta said, turning towards the bar. She’d heard quite a bit about the new Professor. Once or twice a week one or two of the Professors would come into town and visit for a drink. Dumbledore himself had reported of the new transfiguration teacher who was going to join them, and told of his pleasure in having some of the pressure of teaching lifted from him now he was busy at the Ministry with his work at the Wizamgamot and the International Federation of Wizards as well as his work at the school. There was no-one, he’d said, better qualified than Minerva McGonagall to take generations of students through the school while turning them into accomplished Transfigurers.

“Thank you,” Minerva said while handing over the required coins in exchange for her drink. “Will you join me in one?”

Rosmerta was tempted. She’d found out a lot about this woman since she’d heard of her appointment at the school. A word here, and a question there, and the successful barmaid could find herself in possession of the most interesting information. Looking at her she was just a normal looking woman in her late twenties or early thirties. No-one would believe she’d worked on a top secret and dangerous mission in another land, or that she’d lost her fiancée just before her wedding. Looking into her eyes Rosmerta didn’t see sadness but defiance and determination. She wasn’t a hard woman though, that much was obvious. “Firm and fair,” she found herself saying, meaning to have thought the words.

“I’ll try,” Minerva agreed. “You’ll join me?”

“Another time,” Rosmerta declared. “You’ll come down to the village with the other Professors?”

“Aye, I expect I will. And if you’re not going to join me now, then perhaps I should make my way to the school,” and the beginning of a new life she said to herself. It was time after all. Time to acknowledge the first day of the future and put the past behind her; Those memories there to be drawn upon and be happy about.

“Good luck.”

Minerva nodded in thanks for the wishes, picked up her bag and made her way towards the open door and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

pg-13, minerva, chapter

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