Plans (Minerva/Amelia, PG-13)
Title: Plans
Pairing: Minerva McGonagall/Amelia Bones
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,638
Summary: "They never actually made plans to meet up."
Notes: written for kellychamblis in the femmefest exchange. Huge thanks to Lena for the beta!
Plans
They never actually made plans to meet up.
Minerva thought - when she thought about it at all, which she tried to avoid during the school year since she had a lot of piled-up small worries then - that that wasn't because they were trying to hide anything. It wasn't as though they didn't acknowledge each other when they bumped into each other. The lack of making plans didn't trace back to shame or indecisiveness.
They were women who weren't often ashamed. They were women who were never indecisive.
She thought that maybe it was more of a habit thing.
*
When she and Amelia Bones were formally introduced for the first time, they were already well past their girlhood. Minerva had been teaching for thirteen years and had, as she sometimes noted with a hint of discomfort, firmly settled into the routines of living in the castle. Amelia, due to her rather advanced age for an Auror, was at the end an impressive field career and recently had been offered a job as assistant to the Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement to follow up on her Aurorship. They were introduced at the kind of Ministry occasion Minerva disliked, but found herself forced to attend when Albus had more important matters to handle (which was often). Amelia acted youthfully, enthusiastically, and told her this was her first time amongst the high Ministry officials surrounding them. Minerva smiled and told her she usually preferred being at Hogwarts with a nice cup of tea to keeping up public relations by talking about inane things. Afterwards, she had been slightly ashamed about this; she knew very well it was rather bad form to essentially offend the ranks of officials Amelia was about to join - but their conversation had felt fresh and unforced, and she had forgotten who Amelia was around those people.
Luckily, Amelia never showed any sign of being offended. She agreed to the dullness of the event, even, although her eyes continued to shine when someone important greeted her.
They talked of Animagi and the legislation surrounding them, and Amelia talked of being an Auror. Minerva suggested she come to Hogwarts sometime to hold an informative reading on working for the Ministry. It'd be interesting for her sixth and seventh years, especially the ones who harboured hopes of becoming Aurors. Amelia agreed, smiling an open smile (a smile so open and warm that it took Minerva aback for a moment).
*
Amelia came and there were students as young as third years to hear her explain what being an Auror actually meant. Amelia spoke with gusto, rearranged the Great Hall, stood on the tables, and faked a magical fight with a dazzled sixth year. It was quite extraordinary, and Minerva, standing at the back of the crowd of pupils, couldn't suppress a smile the entire time Amelia was talking.
When the students had gone back to their Common Rooms, discussing the things they just heard heatedly, Minerva invited Amelia down to the kitchens for a cup of tea. It was warm down there, warm in a nice way, and when Amelia had to grab onto Minerva's elbow to avoid knocking over a tray of freshly baked pie, her hand was warm even through the robe.
Minerva laughed. "For a celebrated Auror, you're actually a little clumsy," she noted.
Amelia pulled a face, then smiled. "It's true I keep myself more on my toes on a field job than when I'm surrounded by small elves in a heavily guarded castle. I concede!"
They shared a laugh and sat down. A house elf was quick to provide them with tea, sugars, milk and biscuits. (It oddly pleased Minerva that Amelia drank her tea plain, the same way she liked hers.)
"Will you miss it?" she asked after a first sip.
"Being an Auror?"
"Yes. Being in the field, with partners. Being outside, and in the thick of it - that action, won't you really miss that?"
Amelia thought for a moment, as though this wasn't something she had considered before. "Yes, I'm sure I will on sunny days when the outside is a lot more appealing than an inside office. But I'm also starting to feel that it's been enough. It's hard work. In more ways than one." She drank from her cup, then set it down carefully. "And it's not like I'm changing jobs completely. Most of the colleagues of my generation are transitioning to office jobs, so they'll be around a lot, and I'll still be presiding over the junior colleagues. Also," and here, she smiled, "this way I might be able to suggest improvements to some of the things that bothered me when I was still in the field."
"Such as?" Minerva prompted, suddenly realising (a little to her surprise) that this Ministry talk actually interested her.
"Tedious paperwork," Amelia answered immediately, "that takes away valuable intervention time. Sometimes bad things happen because of simple time loss."
Minerva thought she understood, and poured Amelia another cup of tea.
*
They usually said: "We should do this again" when they had spent another very enjoyable afternoon or evening together, but they always parted without plans.
Maybe that made it better to see each other again, after weeks of nothing. Maybe that made it more of a happy surprise when they met on accident.
Minerva thought that maybe all of that was true, but it wasn't the reason.
It could have been about the thrill of not knowing when they were going to see each other, but she thought it was more about the habit. They had been independent women all their lives and somehow it seemed too schoolgirlish, too young to make plans. Too close.
Which was ridiculous, really.
They were already as close as two women could get.
*
Once in a while, there were months of nothing. Then there was an owl: "I've been promoted to Head of the Department. A"
Minerva went to the celebration and her face felt like breaking from all the grinning she did.
*
Eventually they started sharing teacups to minimise the washing-up.
*
The first time Minerva thought that this had to be more than a casual friendly meeting-up-for-tea was when they had a fight. You don't fight with people you only have tea with.
It was a misunderstanding, really.
She had heard at the Ministry that Amelia used to be involved with Karl Dawlish in her field days. It had been crazy to bring it up, she could see that now, but somehow she had felt she needed to. (Maybe it had hurt a little when she thought of Amelia in Dawlish's arms - Dawlish, an bearded oaf who didn't even know how to write his own name, she wagered.)
It had been crazy for Amelia to get as furious as she had, as well.
But now at least she knew that Karl Dawlish had never been more than a colleague. That was worth nursing the hurt from being shouted at.
*
How are you in love when you're not in each other's lives?
It had been five weeks since they'd last seen each other, and for once, Minerva had been thinking a lot about Amelia. She didn't usually do that - her students and related small worries were usually plenty to busy herself with, and she'd found thinking about Amelia could be quite distracting - but this time, she couldn't really help it.
Last time they'd seen each other, Amelia had invited her on a holiday. A proper one, Amelia had said, not sitting in more miserable English weather in some sorry-looking cottage, but actually getting a year's worth of sunshine in two weeks. Sunshine, and interesting languages and other ways of organising wizarding society. Italy, she'd said. Maybe Portugal. The office should learn to get along without her, anyway, she wasn't going to live forever.
Minerva hadn't actually thought about making a decision, because the decision was already made: yes.
(They had laughed, both knowing that this was a plan, and that they were making it, and that they were sticking to it. It was funny somehow.)
But now she had to face that she would be with Amelia for two weeks (in Italy, maybe Portugal). It had been easy to be with Amelia now and then - that had been like a casual acquaintance simply because the times when they were together were far and between (never mind that during those times, it definitely felt like more than a casual acquaintance). That wasn't quite the same as two weeks of Amelia, Amelia at every time of day (and here, Minerva tried not to think "and night", but of course she did), eating with Amelia, going out walking with Amelia, talking to Amelia every day.
It wasn't hard to restrain herself when she said goodbye to Amelia every time to face a couple of weeks to get herself under control again.
It would be hard to restrain herself when there was no recovery period. When Amelia would be there every morning, maybe looking radiant in the Italian (maybe Portuguese) sun, or maybe looking sleepy, maybe not having brushed her hair yet and…
It would be really hard not to be in love with Amelia when she was in Amelia's life.
*
Albus, passing her in the corridor, stopped her for a minute. He wasn't smiling (or he was, in his little way, but it was different). The students streamed past them.
"Minerva," he said, "you know you can talk to me. If you don't want to, I can still only tell you that a quiet, easy life doesn't measure up to the possible pain and turmoil of a life fully lived."
And he was gone again, the bloody sage, his purple back retreating down the corridor of streaming black robes.
She didn't even wonder how he knew, and just tried to believe him.
*
Would it be better to get it out of the way before they left on this holiday?
She pictured the different scenarios. There was a dichotomy between "She reacts well" and "She doesn't". There was a different dichotomy between "We're at home" and "We're not".
The worst was "She doesn't" and "We're not". Even if maybe (maybe) Amelia looked glorious when she was angry in an Italian-or-Portuguese sun, it was still horrible to imagine the hours spent in silence, counting down to when they could part ways. Amelia wasn't one to just Apparate away. It would be bad, even if she was beautiful angry. Minerva had to press her hands to her stomach to make the ache go away.
"She doesn't" and "We're at home" was only marginally better. It was better because the holiday would be cancelled, and they wouldn't have to face each other again. But it was still horrible (the days without Amelia, without the happiness when Minerva spotted her somewhere by accident).
"She reacts well" and "We're at home" seemed quite good. Amelia would smile (still somewhat radiant in the English gloom), probably promise her nothing would change. The holiday would happen. Maybe (and here Minerva tries not to think further, but of course she does) Amelia would kiss her, and maybe she would continue to kiss her when they'd gone away and come back.
The best was "She does react well" and "We're not". Visions of Amelia, golden-skinned, as she kissed Minerva's neck under white parasols amongst high, green grass, maybe even their hands linked over a table with olives and wine - Minerva had to shake her head to get the visions away. Yes, that one was definitely the best.
*
Except maybe she was wrong about that.
"I'm very glad you got it out of the way before we left on this holiday," Amelia said, "otherwise who knows how long it would've taken you to tell me, and who knows how much time we wouldn't have spent doing this?"
Minerva laughed, and very almost cried too, and then she had to close her eyes to this sensation of freedom. She hadn't laughed like this with anyone ever before (and it took a little getting used to).
She opened her eyes, and it still wasn't a dream: the bed was wide, sun-painted and Amelia was in it with her. (Amelia, Amelia, who couldn't be described in terms of pretty or beautiful; she was open-faced and warm and her teeth left little marks on Minerva's shoulder when she wasn't paying attention. She wasn't exactly tan, but more red from the sun, and she was flaking a little. Her breasts sagged slightly, enjoyably against the side of Minerva's exposed stomach and when she smiled, there was a network of fine-lined wrinkles. When she rested her forehead against Minerva's, they each had their geography of life. There were no words for this, nothing that matched this, even if Minerva thought her fantasies had to be at least a little like reality. They weren't. There was nothing like the realness of this, this body, this imperfect perfection wrapped in light white linen.)
They kissed. The day was still soft, and the breeze carrying in through the big window was light and warm. Minerva tried to feel as much as she could. The breeze, the sun, Amelia. Amelia's leg unabashedly draped over Minerva's hip. The tiny hairs of her arm, her breasts, her head fitting quite perfectly under Minerva's shoulder.
And how glad she was then that she had gotten it out of the way, as well, knowing that there were at least ten days more of this, of this close togetherness, the silent warmth in the morning, the flow of words in the evening and their heated discovering of each other during the night.
*
Amelia was an amazing person. Minerva stared at the words on the parchment. The past tense seemed to grow and lunge at her.
She shook her head and crossed person out. friend. she then wrote instead of it.
But as true as that was, it was nothing to what she wanted to say: that she loved to drink from the same teacup as Amelia and that she loved that they liked their tea the same way, that she loved meeting Amelia on accident and that she loved making plans with Amelia, that Amelia had understood most things about her and had had pretty good guesses at the things she hadn't understood. That Amelia had been so beautiful, whenever, wherever - that she was as passionate under a foreign sun as she was under English skies, and that she had fought for her junior officers, and cried for them when they were lost. That she had tried to make it better. That she liked baked potatoes better than boiled ones. That she liked to have her shoes shined. That she hated alcohol. That she sometimes hadn't been able to sleep because there was still so much to be done to make things easier. And that she had taught Minerva how to really laugh until her face felt like cracking.
That they had fought. That they had loved. That they had had everything people can have (that they had hated each other sometimes, and made up for it in love, and the passion when they pounced on each other after not having been together for a while).
She sighed.
And wrote, on a different slip of parchment: Amelia would know what to write about me, and she would know what she wanted me to say about her. I don't know if there are words. I'll try anyway.
(She took both parchments with her in the end, the one with the eulogy that she would have written for Amelia in their bed, and the one that begun with Amelia was an amazing friend. She didn't know yet which one she was going to read.)
end
Pairing: Minerva McGonagall/Amelia Bones
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,638
Summary: "They never actually made plans to meet up."
Notes: written for kellychamblis in the femmefest exchange. Huge thanks to Lena for the beta!
Plans
They never actually made plans to meet up.
Minerva thought - when she thought about it at all, which she tried to avoid during the school year since she had a lot of piled-up small worries then - that that wasn't because they were trying to hide anything. It wasn't as though they didn't acknowledge each other when they bumped into each other. The lack of making plans didn't trace back to shame or indecisiveness.
They were women who weren't often ashamed. They were women who were never indecisive.
She thought that maybe it was more of a habit thing.
*
When she and Amelia Bones were formally introduced for the first time, they were already well past their girlhood. Minerva had been teaching for thirteen years and had, as she sometimes noted with a hint of discomfort, firmly settled into the routines of living in the castle. Amelia, due to her rather advanced age for an Auror, was at the end an impressive field career and recently had been offered a job as assistant to the Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement to follow up on her Aurorship. They were introduced at the kind of Ministry occasion Minerva disliked, but found herself forced to attend when Albus had more important matters to handle (which was often). Amelia acted youthfully, enthusiastically, and told her this was her first time amongst the high Ministry officials surrounding them. Minerva smiled and told her she usually preferred being at Hogwarts with a nice cup of tea to keeping up public relations by talking about inane things. Afterwards, she had been slightly ashamed about this; she knew very well it was rather bad form to essentially offend the ranks of officials Amelia was about to join - but their conversation had felt fresh and unforced, and she had forgotten who Amelia was around those people.
Luckily, Amelia never showed any sign of being offended. She agreed to the dullness of the event, even, although her eyes continued to shine when someone important greeted her.
They talked of Animagi and the legislation surrounding them, and Amelia talked of being an Auror. Minerva suggested she come to Hogwarts sometime to hold an informative reading on working for the Ministry. It'd be interesting for her sixth and seventh years, especially the ones who harboured hopes of becoming Aurors. Amelia agreed, smiling an open smile (a smile so open and warm that it took Minerva aback for a moment).
*
Amelia came and there were students as young as third years to hear her explain what being an Auror actually meant. Amelia spoke with gusto, rearranged the Great Hall, stood on the tables, and faked a magical fight with a dazzled sixth year. It was quite extraordinary, and Minerva, standing at the back of the crowd of pupils, couldn't suppress a smile the entire time Amelia was talking.
When the students had gone back to their Common Rooms, discussing the things they just heard heatedly, Minerva invited Amelia down to the kitchens for a cup of tea. It was warm down there, warm in a nice way, and when Amelia had to grab onto Minerva's elbow to avoid knocking over a tray of freshly baked pie, her hand was warm even through the robe.
Minerva laughed. "For a celebrated Auror, you're actually a little clumsy," she noted.
Amelia pulled a face, then smiled. "It's true I keep myself more on my toes on a field job than when I'm surrounded by small elves in a heavily guarded castle. I concede!"
They shared a laugh and sat down. A house elf was quick to provide them with tea, sugars, milk and biscuits. (It oddly pleased Minerva that Amelia drank her tea plain, the same way she liked hers.)
"Will you miss it?" she asked after a first sip.
"Being an Auror?"
"Yes. Being in the field, with partners. Being outside, and in the thick of it - that action, won't you really miss that?"
Amelia thought for a moment, as though this wasn't something she had considered before. "Yes, I'm sure I will on sunny days when the outside is a lot more appealing than an inside office. But I'm also starting to feel that it's been enough. It's hard work. In more ways than one." She drank from her cup, then set it down carefully. "And it's not like I'm changing jobs completely. Most of the colleagues of my generation are transitioning to office jobs, so they'll be around a lot, and I'll still be presiding over the junior colleagues. Also," and here, she smiled, "this way I might be able to suggest improvements to some of the things that bothered me when I was still in the field."
"Such as?" Minerva prompted, suddenly realising (a little to her surprise) that this Ministry talk actually interested her.
"Tedious paperwork," Amelia answered immediately, "that takes away valuable intervention time. Sometimes bad things happen because of simple time loss."
Minerva thought she understood, and poured Amelia another cup of tea.
*
They usually said: "We should do this again" when they had spent another very enjoyable afternoon or evening together, but they always parted without plans.
Maybe that made it better to see each other again, after weeks of nothing. Maybe that made it more of a happy surprise when they met on accident.
Minerva thought that maybe all of that was true, but it wasn't the reason.
It could have been about the thrill of not knowing when they were going to see each other, but she thought it was more about the habit. They had been independent women all their lives and somehow it seemed too schoolgirlish, too young to make plans. Too close.
Which was ridiculous, really.
They were already as close as two women could get.
*
Once in a while, there were months of nothing. Then there was an owl: "I've been promoted to Head of the Department. A"
Minerva went to the celebration and her face felt like breaking from all the grinning she did.
*
Eventually they started sharing teacups to minimise the washing-up.
*
The first time Minerva thought that this had to be more than a casual friendly meeting-up-for-tea was when they had a fight. You don't fight with people you only have tea with.
It was a misunderstanding, really.
She had heard at the Ministry that Amelia used to be involved with Karl Dawlish in her field days. It had been crazy to bring it up, she could see that now, but somehow she had felt she needed to. (Maybe it had hurt a little when she thought of Amelia in Dawlish's arms - Dawlish, an bearded oaf who didn't even know how to write his own name, she wagered.)
It had been crazy for Amelia to get as furious as she had, as well.
But now at least she knew that Karl Dawlish had never been more than a colleague. That was worth nursing the hurt from being shouted at.
*
How are you in love when you're not in each other's lives?
It had been five weeks since they'd last seen each other, and for once, Minerva had been thinking a lot about Amelia. She didn't usually do that - her students and related small worries were usually plenty to busy herself with, and she'd found thinking about Amelia could be quite distracting - but this time, she couldn't really help it.
Last time they'd seen each other, Amelia had invited her on a holiday. A proper one, Amelia had said, not sitting in more miserable English weather in some sorry-looking cottage, but actually getting a year's worth of sunshine in two weeks. Sunshine, and interesting languages and other ways of organising wizarding society. Italy, she'd said. Maybe Portugal. The office should learn to get along without her, anyway, she wasn't going to live forever.
Minerva hadn't actually thought about making a decision, because the decision was already made: yes.
(They had laughed, both knowing that this was a plan, and that they were making it, and that they were sticking to it. It was funny somehow.)
But now she had to face that she would be with Amelia for two weeks (in Italy, maybe Portugal). It had been easy to be with Amelia now and then - that had been like a casual acquaintance simply because the times when they were together were far and between (never mind that during those times, it definitely felt like more than a casual acquaintance). That wasn't quite the same as two weeks of Amelia, Amelia at every time of day (and here, Minerva tried not to think "and night", but of course she did), eating with Amelia, going out walking with Amelia, talking to Amelia every day.
It wasn't hard to restrain herself when she said goodbye to Amelia every time to face a couple of weeks to get herself under control again.
It would be hard to restrain herself when there was no recovery period. When Amelia would be there every morning, maybe looking radiant in the Italian (maybe Portuguese) sun, or maybe looking sleepy, maybe not having brushed her hair yet and…
It would be really hard not to be in love with Amelia when she was in Amelia's life.
*
Albus, passing her in the corridor, stopped her for a minute. He wasn't smiling (or he was, in his little way, but it was different). The students streamed past them.
"Minerva," he said, "you know you can talk to me. If you don't want to, I can still only tell you that a quiet, easy life doesn't measure up to the possible pain and turmoil of a life fully lived."
And he was gone again, the bloody sage, his purple back retreating down the corridor of streaming black robes.
She didn't even wonder how he knew, and just tried to believe him.
*
Would it be better to get it out of the way before they left on this holiday?
She pictured the different scenarios. There was a dichotomy between "She reacts well" and "She doesn't". There was a different dichotomy between "We're at home" and "We're not".
The worst was "She doesn't" and "We're not". Even if maybe (maybe) Amelia looked glorious when she was angry in an Italian-or-Portuguese sun, it was still horrible to imagine the hours spent in silence, counting down to when they could part ways. Amelia wasn't one to just Apparate away. It would be bad, even if she was beautiful angry. Minerva had to press her hands to her stomach to make the ache go away.
"She doesn't" and "We're at home" was only marginally better. It was better because the holiday would be cancelled, and they wouldn't have to face each other again. But it was still horrible (the days without Amelia, without the happiness when Minerva spotted her somewhere by accident).
"She reacts well" and "We're at home" seemed quite good. Amelia would smile (still somewhat radiant in the English gloom), probably promise her nothing would change. The holiday would happen. Maybe (and here Minerva tries not to think further, but of course she does) Amelia would kiss her, and maybe she would continue to kiss her when they'd gone away and come back.
The best was "She does react well" and "We're not". Visions of Amelia, golden-skinned, as she kissed Minerva's neck under white parasols amongst high, green grass, maybe even their hands linked over a table with olives and wine - Minerva had to shake her head to get the visions away. Yes, that one was definitely the best.
*
Except maybe she was wrong about that.
"I'm very glad you got it out of the way before we left on this holiday," Amelia said, "otherwise who knows how long it would've taken you to tell me, and who knows how much time we wouldn't have spent doing this?"
Minerva laughed, and very almost cried too, and then she had to close her eyes to this sensation of freedom. She hadn't laughed like this with anyone ever before (and it took a little getting used to).
She opened her eyes, and it still wasn't a dream: the bed was wide, sun-painted and Amelia was in it with her. (Amelia, Amelia, who couldn't be described in terms of pretty or beautiful; she was open-faced and warm and her teeth left little marks on Minerva's shoulder when she wasn't paying attention. She wasn't exactly tan, but more red from the sun, and she was flaking a little. Her breasts sagged slightly, enjoyably against the side of Minerva's exposed stomach and when she smiled, there was a network of fine-lined wrinkles. When she rested her forehead against Minerva's, they each had their geography of life. There were no words for this, nothing that matched this, even if Minerva thought her fantasies had to be at least a little like reality. They weren't. There was nothing like the realness of this, this body, this imperfect perfection wrapped in light white linen.)
They kissed. The day was still soft, and the breeze carrying in through the big window was light and warm. Minerva tried to feel as much as she could. The breeze, the sun, Amelia. Amelia's leg unabashedly draped over Minerva's hip. The tiny hairs of her arm, her breasts, her head fitting quite perfectly under Minerva's shoulder.
And how glad she was then that she had gotten it out of the way, as well, knowing that there were at least ten days more of this, of this close togetherness, the silent warmth in the morning, the flow of words in the evening and their heated discovering of each other during the night.
*
Amelia was an amazing person. Minerva stared at the words on the parchment. The past tense seemed to grow and lunge at her.
She shook her head and crossed person out. friend. she then wrote instead of it.
But as true as that was, it was nothing to what she wanted to say: that she loved to drink from the same teacup as Amelia and that she loved that they liked their tea the same way, that she loved meeting Amelia on accident and that she loved making plans with Amelia, that Amelia had understood most things about her and had had pretty good guesses at the things she hadn't understood. That Amelia had been so beautiful, whenever, wherever - that she was as passionate under a foreign sun as she was under English skies, and that she had fought for her junior officers, and cried for them when they were lost. That she had tried to make it better. That she liked baked potatoes better than boiled ones. That she liked to have her shoes shined. That she hated alcohol. That she sometimes hadn't been able to sleep because there was still so much to be done to make things easier. And that she had taught Minerva how to really laugh until her face felt like cracking.
That they had fought. That they had loved. That they had had everything people can have (that they had hated each other sometimes, and made up for it in love, and the passion when they pounced on each other after not having been together for a while).
She sighed.
And wrote, on a different slip of parchment: Amelia would know what to write about me, and she would know what she wanted me to say about her. I don't know if there are words. I'll try anyway.
(She took both parchments with her in the end, the one with the eulogy that she would have written for Amelia in their bed, and the one that begun with Amelia was an amazing friend. She didn't know yet which one she was going to read.)
end