FIC: "Let Us Escape Our Troubles" for tetleythesecond

[bethbethbeth]

Recipient: tetleythesecond
Author: songquake
Title: Let Us Escape Our Troubles
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Minerva McGonagall/Augusta Longbottom
Word Count: 11,708
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *None*.
Summary: How terribly strange to be seventy… ("Old Friends", Simon and Garfunkel)
Author's Notes: tetleythesecond, I hope you love this. It's been a true labour of love. I'm so grateful to have been given the opportunity to work with these characters. I hope it's got enough realism - and theoretical magic - for you. To my beta T, thank you ever so for whipping this into shape at the last possible moment. You're a lifesaver. All remaining mistakes are mine. And finally, bethbethbeth, I thank you immensely for hosting this fest, for promoting unpopular characters, and for putting up with my terribly slow writing and revising process. You're a gentlewoman and a scholar.

---

Minerva snorted as she scanned The Hog's Head from its entrance. She would have chased the riff-raff out of the deepest shadows, she thought. Augusta Longbottom sat in a large corner booth as if she would hold court there. Other patrons of the inn glared at her from their barstool diaspora. Minerva's spine was straight, of course, as it always was, but she was a bit nervous. This is not what I meant by discreet. Discreet would have been a table at the Three Broomsticks or some reputable place for adults to have tea. Even Madam Puddifoot's would have been acceptable, given how 'eccentric' both women were known to be.

But this was Old Abe's place, and they both had some loyalty to him from their younger days. Minerva nodded to him as she strode to where Augusta had settled, ignoring the feeling of the floorboards sticking to the soles of her boots. Aberforth nodded back, relief interrupting his curmudgeonly mien.

Augusta must have arrived early, Minerva thought, and behaved terribly to have unsettled Abe so much.

"Minnie!" the stocky witch exclaimed.

Minerva wrinkled her nose out of habit and took a breath. "Gussie!" she returned. She hung her coat before leaning over to bestow exaggerated kisses on Augusta's cheeks. Everybody, play the game.

She could almost feel Augusta's chuckle through their clasp of hands on just the other side of polite.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me outside the castle, Minerva. I really cannot stand the draft these days."

Minerva arched an eyebrow, looking around them pointedly. The majority of the men in the bar were wearing cloaks or overcoats. So did Augusta.

"Yes, yes, dear, but here everybody wears a cloak, so I feel that much less ridiculous."

Minerva's eyes travelled up to Augusta's favourite hat. It was adorned with a rather vulgar vulture. It was hideous and embarrassing, but Augusta had refused to meet her without it for decades. She had, indeed, worn it to most "formal functions" since she acquired it.

It was her little rebellion. Minerva just had to maintain a straight face when in polite company.

Among less-polite company as well. Even at Old Abe's, the two needed to maintain the veneer of respectability that would be necessary for a meeting between the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and one of its Governors.

"Why don't we have a glass of wine and catch up a bit before we retire upstairs for tea and business?" suggested Augusta.

"I wonder the wisdom of it, given that we shall be discussing school matters."

Augusta snorted. "Don't be such a goody two-shoes, Minerva, it doesn't become you." Minerva blushed. "Besides, we're both well into our adult years. I think we can handle a little Aglianico, can't we?" She gestured to the barkeep.

"Eh, what's your pleasure?" Aberforth growled. "Or do I even want to know?"

Augusta ignored the old man's insinuation. Nobody came to the Hog's Head for its outstanding hospitality.

"Bottle of Wizarding Aglianico, Taurasi if you have it."

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "Nobody asks for that kind of overpriced swill round here, lady. House red or house white."

"Red it is, then," Minerva cut in. This time Augusta was the one to raise a brow. "I have no interest in hearing your discourse on vintages today, Augusta, nor Abe's on public house economies of scale." By the time she was finished explaining, Aberforth was back with a spotty-looking carafe and two equally-spotty glasses.

Each of the women conjured a clean napkin, and Augusta pulled two marbles out of her handbag, transfiguring them into glasses before pouring each of them a measure.

"To old chums gathered once more," Augusta said, raising her glass.

"And to Hogwarts, may we be fine stewards of its future!" added Minerva, just to keep the meeting somewhat official-like.

She took a sip, then made a face. "Well, if you want to get me soused, Augusta, this would be a way. I don't know how this qualifies as a wine rather than a whiskey."

"Abe probably has a fair quality of that," mused Augusta. She sighed. "But you are right that we do have certain…responsibilities this afternoon. Do you have the rest of the evening off?"

"But of course. Albus knows our meetings can run long. Old friends and such."

Augusta cracked a smile, ducking her head uncharacteristically to hide the fondness of it. "And complicated business." She took another swig of the wine. "So how is that grandson of mine? I was chuffed that he made your House. I'd never have expected him to make mine, but Neville's getting Sorted into Gryffindor was nearly as much a shock."

"You don't think coming to school with his…history was a courageous act?" Minerva asked.

Augusta paused, considering. "Well, yes," she said. "But he is rather deliberative and patient. And, bless him, too shy by half most of the time. Though…."

"Not before Frank and Alice," Minerva said gently, her hand reaching to cover Augusta's. "I know. And I'm sure his experiences at primary school didn't help much, either."

Augusta's head snapped up. "But he was such a late bloomer —"

"I know." Minerva's voice was tender yet firm. They'd been over this. "And I have to tell you, until I saw the list this summer, I dreaded having to have the conversation about Neville's magic not being able to focus enough to go to Hogwarts. Sending him to Muggle school was a wise plan. I just shudder to think of a young wizard, even one whose magic is barely apparent, would feel, having to hide his heritage."

"And then I exposed him to the worst of Pureblood society." Augusta winced. "At least he learned that both magical and Muggle persons can be arses."

"Yes, and none of them is in his dormitory, so he will have a fair bit of independence to learn to have confidence in himself and his magic."

"And lessons?"

Minerva paused. "He is bright, Augusta. I think you never quite saw that. What he needs is confidence, and Gryffindor can help him with that."

"Ah." Augusta nodded. She tipped the last of her house red back into her mouth and looked pointedly at Minerva, who set her glass down. "Ready to go to my room?"

"But of course."

Minerva stood and offered her hand to Augusta, who took it and rose. Minerva gathered her coat; Augusta gestured to Aberfoth. "If you would be so kind as to bring us some tea, Aberforth," she said.

Aberforth grunted, as was his wont. "And I suppose you'll be taking it in the sitting room?" he called across the tavern room.

Minerva looked shrewdly at him. "Now, that's no way to keep something quiet, is it, Abe?"

Aberforth jerked his head. "I'll bring it to yer room then, Mrs Longbottom," he said, turning toward the kitchen even before he finished speaking.

The two women climbed the rickety staircase, Minerva restraining herself from offering to help Augusta's hips through the narrow bit near the top. She kept one arm at her side and one crossed in front of her, bearing her cloak, as she climbed.

Entering the room, Minerva made sure to hang her cloak on the brass rack in the corner. No need to invite any critters home, she thought. She cast disinfecting charms at the dingy stuffed chairs by the fire.

"If you're going to be like that, Minerva, you might as well irradiate the room," Augusta said drily from the basin catty-corner to the door. She did not look surprised when with a sweep of her wand, Minerva set the bed, chairs, and plaited rug aglow.

"You know how I feel about vermin," she said. "Especially those I would not eat in tabby form. For heaven's sake, Augusta, if it weren't for you, I —"

"Ho," said her companion as the two women arranged their seats to face each other, the tea table off to their side. "I daresay that I at least make your quarterly visits to check on Aberforth for Albus interesting."

Minerva blushed again, a habit she'd not been able to shake even after nearly sixty years of friendship. "You do," she conceded. "Now tell me, how are you getting on now, really? Empty nest syndrome taken hold yet?"

"I'm afraid it has," Augusta sighed. "Thinking more about Frank and how hopeful I was for his future. I'm reading a fair bit now; I'm thinking of getting back to that research I was working on when I had to take Neville in." She grimaced. "Not that I ever minded Nev, of course. I love him to bits."

"I know you do, Augusta," Minerva said, leaning forward to pat Augusta on the knee. The two women clasped hands again. "I know how much it broke you when everything came crashing down at the end of the war. You don't need to pretend it wasn't awful."

Augusta pursed her lips, her eyes bright. She squeezed Minerva's hands. "Thank you," she said, sitting back once more as a knock rang through the door.

"Tea, ladies," Aberforth's gruff voice came through.

"Bring it in, please, Abe," Minerva said, giving her friend an extra moment to gather her voice. As he laid the set on the table, she added, "Would you like to join us for a moment, hear the report about the start of term?"

"Don't know why you even bother, young Minerva," he growled. Minerva smiled back at him, so he continued. "Hogwarts is Hogwarts, more my brother's concern than it ever was mine. 'Sides, I wouldn't dare keep you from your real business, eh?" His usually shadowed eyes took on a spark of mirth.

"Aberforth!" Minerva exclaimed, scandalised.

"Eh, I won't blow yer cover, ladies."

Augusta broke into a chuckle as Aberforth left the room. "Well, one pervert can surely recognise another, I suppose." She kicked off her shoes and stretched her feet out to poke at Minerva's. "We might as well just dispose of our pretentious business and move on to the," she coughed pseudo-delicately, "real business."


~* II *~

They sat on the edge of the bed in Augusta's guest room at The Hog's Head ("Propriety be damned," Augusta had said when she saw Minerva's state of psychic distress, "Abe doesn't care, and nobody else will see us.")

"Let's talk about you, Augusta," Minerva said, her measured tone giving away her desperation for escape. "I must admit, I envy your freedom to focus on research these days."

"I would imagine," Augusta returned, cataloguing the lines drawn around Minerva's lips, the slightly-roughened tone to her voice, the darkness under her eyes that could not be credited to normal aging processes. "It is good to have time and attention to spare, rather than spending it all fretting about the safety of a castle's inhabitants."

"Community," Minerva corrected out of habit.

"That would, of course, be at even greater risk than the students' physical safety, wouldn't it." It was a statement. After all this time, Augusta was good at finding the chinks in Minerva's armour.

It's a good thing, Minerva thought, she left word to come directly to her rooms.

"Yes," she moaned softly. "Children are turning against one another, House unity is a chimera, Hagrid's been sacked and sent off..."

Augusta stroked her hand gently. "I know. I voted against it, of course, but the record of the last time...." She paused. "You might think the opinions of those who were at Hogwarts the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened would carry some more weight than those of upstart governors such as Lucius Malfoy, who couldn't be arsed about the school until the year before his son started."

Minerva shuddered. Neither she nor Augusta — nor Albus, for that matter — had ever thought Hagrid could be the Heir of Slytherin. He could have raised a monster, but it was against his nature to hide his animal husbandry. Rather, he would have paraded it around and tried to convince the other students it was loveable. Even now, as an adult, he'd try to keep something truly dangerous far away from the students.

"Seeing those children, paralysed," she whispered, "it's so familiar. I can only be thankful none have died yet."

"Minerva," Augusta's tone was commanding. "Look at me."

The bleakness in Minerva's eyes was nearly too much to bear. Augusta could only imagine how hard it was for her friend, her lover, to see the scenes of their youth playing out again. "What is happening in the castle is no more your fault now than it was when you were Head Girl and I was Prefect. We could only do our best then, and I know that you, Albus, Filius, Silvanus, Irma... and those younger staff members, too, you are all doing everything in your power to keep the children out of danger."

Minerva, her defences finally giving out, collapsed onto Augusta's shoulder, shaking. Augusta drew her close. She stretched her neck to kiss Minerva's forehead. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she murmured, bringing Minerva's teacup from the table and then casting a Warming Charm. "Drink up, Minerva. We've got some Glenlivet in there as well."

Minerva nodded and took the cup. Augusta stroked her hair as she sipped.

"I know it," Minerva said quietly, "but it doesn't stop the nightmares, nor the daytime terrors. I keep expecting to come upon Myrtle again, dead and sopping." She drew another shuddering breath.

"Are you afraid of the bath again?" The question did not mock.

"No," Minerva chuckled weakly. "And thank Morgana for that. Can you imagine me in the staff room? 'Would anyone be willing to accompany me to my bath each night? Only I'm afraid I'll end up like Myrtle and Mrs Norris.'" Her laughter increased; her breaths drew unsteadily deeper. "Severus? Sybill? Albus?"

"Breathe, Minerva. I don't know what I would tell the school — or Abe or St Mungo's, mind — should you be found unconscious in my bed." Minerva nodded again and looked to be working toward regulating her air flow. "And I want to note my relief that you have not turned to other staff for help with bathing. I don't know that I would be able to look Albus in the eye without wanting to hex his, should he see you bare more than I."

The two erupted in laughter once more.

"I surely would have him behind a screen!" Minerva gasped. "There would be no need for jealousy! Besides, you know Albus is about as interested in me as I in him!"

"Ah, but it's the opportunity I would envy." Augusta let her fingers wander in Minerva's hair until she found the pins that held responsibility for keeping it so organised. Extracting the pins, she let her fingers comb through the wisps which framed Minerva's face, finally dragging her fingertips down her neck.

Minerva arched it. Then she inhaled slowly and brought a hand up to angle their heads at one another. "You were supposed to be distracting me from my troubles, young lady."

That statement evoked a bark of a laugh, a kiss on the nose, and a tumble backward onto the bed. "And what sort of distraction were you seeking, hm?" Augusta managed to ask. "Recruitment reports? My latest research on Transfiguration's Missing Particles?"

Minerva rolled onto her belly, tucking her knees under her so her back arched and rump lifted like a cat's. She looked steadily at Augusta. "I must admit to being more interested in the Transfiguration Mistress's present particles," she purred.

Chortling, Augusta reached up, twined her fingers into Minerva's hair again, and pulled her down. They kissed unhurriedly, taking time to enjoy the feel of their lips pressing together, the softness of one another's loosened skin, the roughness of that first swipe of tongue.

Minerva was as meticulous in lovemaking as she was in everything else; it was a quality Augusta both adored and abhorred. As Minerva opened Augusta's blouse and reached around to release her foundation garments, Augusta captured her hands.

"Let me," she said, bringing her lover's hands back to her sides, cupping her cheeks and mapping all the lovely wrinkles and spots on her face. "Let me distract you, Minerva. Turn that lovely mind of yours off for a bit."

"But you —" Minerva always made a protest when Augusta tried to offer her this; she had a strange, Gryffindorish sense of what was fair, Augusta thought.

"I like it when you listen to what I tell you to do, Minerva," she fairly growled. Minerva's blush was gratifying, at least. "I want to take charge of you right now."

As she nodded, Minerva's eyes widened into an expression that, even now, caused Augusta to want. It was an innocent surrender she couldn't imagine Minerva McGonagall offering anybody else.

She set about overwhelming Minerva's senses.


~* III *~

Augusta hated herself for a moment when she saw Minerva enter The Hog's Head. Yes, she'd had Aberforth prepare hot cocoa in advance, but if she'd been thinking, she would have cancelled their appointment. Minerva should not have to deal with Dementors.

She staggered into the tavern, face pale and drawn, dried tears streaking her face. Aberforth, bless him, cast a quick Notice-Me-Not charm on her. Augusta was glad she had locked eyes with Minerva before the charm was cast; otherwise, her own eyes may have slid past Minerva's thin frame. She walked to the door to meet her, embracing her in strong arms. "Let's get you upstairs; Aberforth has already made some cocoa for you, and we can have him bring more chocolate with it."

As soon as Minerva had nodded her assent, Augusta cast a Lightening Charm on her and picked her up, cradling her like a baby. Minerva, of course, began to struggle.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking, Augusta!"

"Hush," Augusta said. "You're barely capable. Nobody's paying attention to us. Let me do this for you — it's not every day I get to pretend to be a musclewoman."

Minerva's body jittered with laughter.

"Don't make me drop you."

Despite Minerva's frame and the spell to further ease the burden of her weight, Augusta was winded by the time they reached her room upstairs. With a huge exhalation, she dropped Minerva upon the bed. "I had Aberforth irradiate it for you," she said, heading off Minerva's next objection as she caught her breath.

"I shudder to imagine the conversation." Light had returned to Minerva's eyes. Good.

"My dear, so long as we don't bare ourselves in front of him or his sister, Aberforth really couldn't care less. It's not as though he's got much to stand on, where impropriety goes." As they smiled at one another, a knock sounded at the door.

Augusta's voice was nearly gay. "Come in, Abe!"

Aberforth brought a steaming cup of cocoa and several bars of Honeyduke's Finest directly to Minerva. "Sit up, then," he said. "Can't have you keeping cold, especially if you're having to go back out there tonight."

Minerva chuckled. "Why, Abe, I didn't know you cared."

"Just one old goat looking after another," he grunted, ducking his head to hide his blush. "Those Ministry idiots are going to be the death of all of us."

Minerva caught his eye. "Thank you, Abe," she said, colour returning to her cheeks after only two sips. "I only hope I can do you a good turn one day."

Aberforth grunted again, waving a little as he departed.

"Feeling better?" Augusta asked solicitously.

"Yes." Minerva stretched her arms above her head and twisted her back. "Cocoa and chocolate are always good for shaking off those horrid thoughts."

Augusta lowered her voice. "Was it bad, Minerva?"

"I'm not sure how it could not be bad; they are Dementors, after all." She shuddered in recollection. "And after crossing them too many times, they begin to contaminate your best memories; I found it nearly impossible to cast my Patronus at them."

It was a mark of how close the women were, and how concerned she was, that Augusta bit her lip.

"You're demonstrating weakness, dear," Minerva said drily.

Augusta squared her shoulders. "I do know my weaknesses — the Patronus Charm is among them. I only wish it were not so, and that I could absorb a greater level of that risk when we meet." She looked pointedly at her companion. "My memories, I'm sure, would not be nearly so debilitating."

"But discretion is the better part of valour in any event."

Augusta's stout carriage deflated slightly. "Very true. On the other hand," she mused, "perhaps we have the opportunity now to create memories not yet contaminated by those dreadful things. Perhaps even multiple memories for you to draw upon." Hoping to salvage the afternoon, she strode to her trunk and drew out a small pot and an old-fashioned dildo in a harness, the leather soft from years of use.

"You never were one to beat about the bush, were you?" Minerva chuckled, opening her waistcoat.

"Not just any bush, at least," Augusta countered cheekily, laying her accessories on the end table. "My own, of course, and yours."

Minerva's laughter turned raucous. "Goodness! I do hope you plan on allowing me to stay the night, then — otherwise, we shouldn't have any energy left for discussing Governors' business?"

"Eh, there's not much to tell, is there?" Augusta had climbed behind Minerva to nuzzle her ear, running stubby fingers up and down Minerva's sides before drawing her hands forward to her blouse buttons. "I got those Finch-Fletchleys to agree to donate a large sum of gold for renovations of Hufflepuff House and shall propose the mother — Janice, her name is — as a new Governor at the next meeting."

"Good," Minerva purred as she guided her lover's hands into her blouse and under her brassiere to cup her bosom. "Well, since we have so much time to spare..." She moaned as Augusta bit her shoulder and ran her hands back down to hold her hips. "...We might as well put it to use."

"Very," Augusta bit the other shoulder, "pragmatic of you, dear."

"Idle hands make the devil's work — ooh!" Minerva's squeal was a prize not even Augusta attained with any regularity. Minerva thrust a hand into Augusta's chignon in retaliation, disturbing it utterly, and pulled the other woman down for a sharp-toothed kiss.

For several glorious moments they wrestled like schoolchildren. Somehow, amid their tangle of limbs and manoeuvres for dominance, they managed to remove all but their hosiery.

"Please, Augusta," Minerva panted, threading her bony arms under her lover's stronger, plumper ones to reach the clasp of her brassiere. As she unhooked the garment, she showered kisses upon Augusta's shoulders and the top of her chest. She leant back to look.

Minerva had always loved the details of Augusta's nakedness: the way her cheeks were rosy but her areoles a dusky brown against her paler breasts, the few hairs that sprouted, now silver, along the edge. She lifted one of the breasts to her lips, sucking at a nipple before using it as a handle to pull up the rest of the organ so as to expose the tender skin beneath.

The contrasts of skin subjected to folding and skin hidden from view and friction still amazed her, since her own breasts remained barely teacup-sized. They'd never inflated from childbearing the way Augusta's had. Hers were pendulous, overwhelming in their size and motion. With function had come an incredibly beautiful form.

Deliberately, slowly, Minerva gave the same treatment to Augusta's other breast. "Wouldn't want this one to feel neglected," she murmured.

She felt hands tugging at her hair. "Get up here, already," Augusta growled, sounding ever so much like the bulldogs that inspired the image she'd cultivated. Pushing Augusta's shoulders back, Minerva climbed on top.

"This better?" she asked, shifting so her hips wouldn't bruise the belly beneath her, but she could get a knee between the other woman's legs nonetheless.

"Damn it, Minerva," Augusta gasped, and pulled Minerva's head down into a kiss.

The kiss started hard and demanding but grew tender. Minerva smirked as she pulled her head up so as to bestow light pecks on the other woman's mouth. She felt Augusta angling her hips to maximise contact between fanny and thigh.

"Careful, now," she said, grinding her leg between Augusta's legs briefly before sitting back. "My, we're impatient today, aren't we?"

Augusta bit back a whine and grabbed at Minerva's hips, trying to bring her back. "Yes, I'm impatient!" she hissed. "Please."

Minerva backed further away, tugging at Augusta's knickers. Augusta was more than happy to assist by lifting her hips off the bed. "Accio lubricating potion!" Minerva called.

The smack of the jar against Minerva's hand caused Augusta to arch up again. She sighed as Minerva efficiently slicked her up, the potion soothing her lips and clit. Then Minerva moved her hand away.

"Patience."

The kisses to Augusta's inner thighs were not the playful sort Minerva had bestowed to her lips minutes before. These teased, yes, but what was teasing was less their style than their location. Minerva buried her tongue into each dimple revealed as she rolled down Augusta's stockings; she used her hands to hold the skin taut as she licked broad strokes before short, fast ones in those places she knew were impossibly sensitive. When Augusta's legs were bare and had been amply worshipped, Minerva tugged her knees up and bit the juncture of arse and thigh.

Augusta keened. "Minerva, fuck, I want you to touch me, please, please!"

"Thoroughly undignified," Minerva chuckled, using one hand to spread Augusta's lower lips.

"I don't care."

"Right answer. Ten points to Slytherin."

Minerva finally rubbed her thumb against Augusta's clit. "Look at you, standing all proud for me," she murmured. "Makes me feel a bit proud myself."

Augusta squirmed and gyrated. "Inside, Min- Minerva." Minerva paused, arching an eyebrow. Augusta opened her eyes to meet her lover's. "Did you hear me? I said inside."

"Mm." Minerva sounded non-committal, but moved her wand hand from Augusta's clit back to dip in the jar of potion. She slicked up two fingers, just in case. Augusta usually could only take one.

Moistening the thumb on her other hand, she carefully slipped her index finger up Augusta's hole and then began to rub a slow circle round and round the clit. She smiled, pleased by Augusta's guttural moan. Now, if I can push her from bossy to wanton....

Sliding her finger out, she lubed it again, and reached back in with her middle finger as well. She curled her fingers up, seeking out that spongy part that, if manipulated just so —

Augusta emitted a broken scream. "Please, please, please..." she chanted.

With her relatively free hand, Minerva squeezed Augusta's clitoral hood between two knuckles, forcing the tiny head up through it. Thinking better of her actions, she pulled her hand to her mouth to lick her thumb before returning it to that position and rubbing the head of Augusta's clitoris roughly.

"Fuck!" Augusta squalled. "FUCKING FUCK MY CLIT LIKE IT'S A LITTLE DICK!"

Minerva grinned. This was her favourite part: when Augusta gave up her last pretence of propriety.

She took her lover's clit between two fingers, tugging at it as she rubbed its head, jerking Augusta off. She continued to pulse the G-spot as well, knowing that this was what gave that lovely clitoris the power to stand up.

Augusta's flush grew deeper; it stretched from her ears through her face, down her chest, and stained her innermost thighs pink. That blush was so lovely that Minerva felt compelled to kiss it, then to rest her cheek along the side of Augusta's thigh, smelling the sweet tang of her lover. She felt Augusta's heart beat against her fingers and heard it thump against her ear.

Pushing hard on that spot inside Augusta as she yanked and squeezed her clit, Minerva was awarded with a tense of legs, arch of back, and the high, shuddering keen that meant Augusta had finally come.

Minerva sat up, pushing her thoroughly-dishevelled hair behind her ears before she carefully pulled her fingers out of her lover's hole. Noticing Augusta's wince, she dipped her reddened fingers back into the lubricating potion (how wise they had been to adjust the amount of aloe in the formula!) and spread the cooling gel all over her labia. She also took the opportunity to tap Augusta's glorious clit a few times, enjoying the way her lover jerked at each impact.

Augusta was panting as though she had been the one doing all the work. Snorting, Minerva dragged her still half-clad body up the bed to curl against her.

"That was certainly a memory for a most powerful Patronus Charm, my dear."

Augusta's response was to chuckle as she buried her face between Minerva's breasts.

"I don't suppose you might have it in you to create enough joy for a second one, hm?" She raised one eyebrow and used the fingers combing through Augusta's curls to bring her head back and make eye contact.

"Mm..." Augusta groaned, opening still-darkened eyes to her admittedly-deserving lover. "If not this minute, I certainly shall have the energy to fuck you right properly before the night is out."

"Oh, good," Minerva said. "I would hate to leave things between us unbalanced."


~* IV *~

Minerva sidled into the booth next to Augusta, giving her a Continental peck on each cheek. "I'm so glad to see you," she said.

Augusta turned her head to look at the woman seated — improbably, as the other bench in the booth was unoccupied — next to her. "I'm surprised Albus let you out."

"Well, our convenient excuse still applies, perhaps even more so this year, given the attention to the school. Besides, I think he's tired of looking down the table only to see me holding back a scowl."

"Really?"

"He might have mentioned a recent resemblance to Severus."

Augusta burst out laughing. "Well, we certainly can't have that!"

"No, indeed," Minerva said mildly, smiling a bit. "And to make matters worse, Severus seems to be the only other staff person to be so affected by the goings-on!"

"Well, of course he would be," Augusta said. "Severus has never been one for a good time."

Minerva nodded. "And he has been making noises about Igor following him around like a demented Cruppy."

Augusta's eyes bulged against the reflex to spit out her whiskey. "Oh, for pity's sake. He should be glad anyone would follow him like a Cruppy, given his general demeanour."

"Oh, yes. At least he retains his wit. I fear the presence of so many strangers has rendered even Alastor stupid. Usually I can count on him for a sharp retort, but the man is so on edge—not sure whether it's the Goblet, or the presence of Igor or what. He simply stomps around, frightening the stuffing out of the younger students with his admonitions of 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE.' It's as though he's in his dotage and becoming a caricature of himself."

"Truly, it can't be that bad."

"It most certainly can!" Minerva shot an affronted glare at Augusta, then slumped. "You really can't imagine it, Augusta. I haven't had a conversation with an adult that's been about something other than security, festivity planning, or international cooperation since the start of term."

"It sounds dreadful." Augusta let her hand slip under the table to pat Minerva's knee. She let it rest there. Minerva relaxed just a tad. What can I do to restore my woman to herself?

Augusta considered her options. Usually we make small-talk for a bit, talk about the school's Board of Governors, and then make love. Perhaps, though, tonight it would be best to shake up the routine a bit. "I wonder, dear, whether you would like to slip up to the sitting room so we can enjoy a nice drink somewhere quieter."

"But —" Minerva furrowed her brows. Augusta's heart warmed at the look of befuddlement, so rare on that noble face. "Don't you want —?"

Augusta squeezed her knee, then patted it and moved her hand into her own lap. "I always do. Never doubt that. But I thought perhaps you might want to hear about my latest research, perhaps give me insights as to what I should investigate next. It might be easier in a place where we had fewer...distractions."

"And at least one chaperone," Minerva retorted, chuckling, "even if she is a portrait of a fourteen-year-old."

"Exactly. Shall we?" Without waiting for a response, Augusta bumped her hip against Minerva's so the second woman was forced to rise from their booth lest she tumble to the floor.

"Philistine," Minerva reprimanded Augusta. "You know how I feel about the cleanliness of this place. Should I have fallen, you would have been responsible for thoroughly disinfecting all my clothing."

Augusta's eyes twinkled. "What a good idea," she murmured. "Any pretence to get you out of your clothing is a good one." She grinned, seeing a slight blush stain her lover's cheeks. "Head on upstairs, dear, and I'll procure a bottle of Firewhisky. I find it a great lubricant for social intercourse."

"I can't believe you," muttered Minerva, but she followed Augusta's suggestion.

The sitting room was an anomaly in the old inn. Unlike the tavern downstairs and even the guest rooms, the sitting room was well-furnished and maintained. Floating candles danced near the ceiling, arranging themselves in patterns and shapes determined by a force unseen. The side tables were mahogany; the matching chairs and loveseat had cushions of saffron-dyed silk. The floor shined except for where it was covered by an intricate oriental rug. On three walls were landscapes in which animals, both Magical and Muggle, frolicked.

But the room was dominated by the life-sized portrait of Ariana Dumbledore on the fourth wall.

As Augusta strode in carrying her bottle of Firewhisky, she heard Minerva speaking to the portrait. "Well, of course, Miss Dumbledore, but we often have other business to attend to during our quarterly visits."

"Hmph!" said the portrait. "Shagging, yes? I would think one could at least come and give us a 'hello, how are you, Ariana,' before or after. You always had time for me before."

"Hello, how are you, Ariana?" chimed Augusta.

Ariana sniffed. "Nice of you to come, Professor Longbottom. As for the other, I've been dreadfully bored these past few years. None of the other people who visit this room are nearly as interesting as the two of you."

"I haven't been a professor in fourteen years, my dear; Mrs Longbottom will do."

"Well, both of you still teach me...when you bother to come." Then she giggled. "Or, rather, when you don't bother, I suppose."

Augusta saw that the tips of Minerva's ears were red; her own ears felt hot as well. "Well, Miss Dumbledore, you're in luck. We are going to discuss my research in Theoretical Transfigurations."

Ariana clapped her hands and settled into an attentive perch near the edge of the wing-backed chair provided to her in the painting. With a careless gesture she summoned parchment and quill. "Go on, then," she directed, a smile stretching her narrow face.

Both human women rolled their eyes before turning to one another. "Shall we sit?" Minerva asked, though she did not wait for a response before doing so.

Each woman took a small object from her robes and transfigured it neatly into a snifter. Augusta uncapped the Firewhisky and poured two fingers for each of them. "To life!" she said, lifting her glass.

"Cheers," Minerva responded, clinking their glasses together. "So...remind me of where you are in your research. You're investigating the Missing Particle question, correct?"

"Indeed," responded Augusta. "I've been tinkering with instruments to measure both the magical energy dispersed — or, as it seems, consumed — by Transfiguration, and comparing the missing mass to both the energy and the amount of dust left after the process is complete."

"Goodness," Minerva murmured, a hint of admiration in her voice. "Where can you perform such a task?"

"Oh, I've finally cleaned out Alexander's old study and converted it to a laboratory," Augusta said blithely, though Minerva knew doing such a thing had taken extensive healing and extreme willpower. Her husband had been extremely intelligent, a wit to match Augusta, and a good friend who had been remarkably indulgent with regards to Augusta's sexual proclivities, especially those that did not involve him.

"Well-done, then."

"Indeed. And so I had a specialist come by to put up Immaculata spells and teach me how to protect the room from my own bodily sloughing. Those are sadly necessary, no matter how taxing I do find them."

"Indeed," said Minerva, a smile playing at her lips. Charms had never been one of Augusta's strong suits, but the woman was remarkably determined when it came to her work.

Augusta tucked a foot under her bum. "Consequently, I have had the opportunity to discover that, despite centuries of claims to the contrary, the Muggle theory that the aggregate of matter and energy in a closed system is constant." She sniffed. "I can't say I'm surprised; I've often suspected Isaac Newton was one of us."

This earned an arch of eyebrows. "Augusta, your blood purity is showing," Minerva reprimanded.

Augusta sniffed again. "Well, perhaps a Squib, then," she conceded. "He un-puzzled too many things that are applicable across both Wizarding and Muggle arts and sciences."

Minerva knew a lost cause when she heard it.

"Have you been able to discover more since coming upon this knowledge?" Minerva asked. As an afterthought she added, "And when are these findings to be published?"

"Oh, they'll be in the next issue of Topical Transfiguration Journal," Augusta answered. "And I am beginning to work on the physical principles of conjuring and banishing."

Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, those would seem to punch a hole, so to speak, in the closed-system approach."

"I'm thinking of auditing a Muggle physics course," Augusta said. "Especially now that I know that branch of science is based on sound principles."

"Tell me more, though," Minerva said. "Have you discovered where the so-called 'extra particles' go?"

"I wouldn't even think of publishing if I hadn't sorted that, dear." Augusta's voice had a touch of condescension to it, so Minerva stretched her leg to kick her. Augusta glared at her. "Rude wench."

Minerva harrumphed, but a smile turned the edges of her mouth.

"From what I understood, Muggles have learned that all matter can be subdivided into tiny bits called molecules, and even tinier bits called atoms. These are the smallest kinds of particles — molecules are built of atoms, and form most of what we see, like water and wood and different types of stone. These molecules can be broken apart into atoms by application of energy; the atoms can also join together and make molecules when energy or pressure pushes the atoms together."

"I assume you hypothesised that Transfiguration works by rearranging both molecules and atoms, then?"

Minerva always was a quick one, Augusta thought. "Indeed, but that is rather obvious, isn't it? So I started to question how such drastic Transfigurations as mice into teacups could be possible." And she's bloody radiant when she finds something to genuinely challenge her...


~* V *~

"I've no idea how you can stand it, Minerva," Augusta said even as she massaged her lover's stocking-clad foot. The tea sat on the table in her sitting room, long forgotten.

"I can't, really," Minerva admitted. "I've grown used to imbeciles over the years, I suppose, but meddling fools? Albus was certainly enough already." She made a face. "And her style! You know I'm not one to follow after fashion, but... Her penchant for pink and kittens is utterly undignified. It's unbecoming for a professor. If the children started out with any predisposition to respect their Defence professors, that surely would have destroyed it."

"I'm glad I could help you get away."

"There was no question. We couldn't have spoken or acted openly in town — somehow, she has eyes everywhere."

"Everywhere but the private parlours of Pureblooded witches, eh?" Augusta chortled. She was smug.

So was Minerva, patently. "Indeed!" She sighed. "But the whole 'High Inquisitor' business is nearly as absurd as it is chilling." She gasped as Augusta pressed hard on a pressure point.

After a moment, Augusta prompted her. "Say more?"

"Mm? Oh... Yes. It is as though Dolores has never heard of what and who the Spanish Inquisition was after. Yes, they sought purity, but —"

"It was a specific kind of Muggle purity, was it not?"

"Yes! And they were the sort of Muggles to attempt to eradicate all real magic from the earth!" She sniffed. "Not to mention scientific progress and diversity in ideas. Bastards."

Augusta chuckled. "Such language, Miss McGonagall! I should have to take points from Gryffindor if you keep that up."

"Oh, hush." Minerva scowled, but it was clearly half-hearted. She shook her head, wind-loosened strands of hair from her bun falling to frame her face. "I am simply expressing my astonishment that someone who is so sympathetic to the most conservative factions of Wizarding society would have adopted such a frightful Muggle term."

"Hm. Where did she go to school?" Augusta beckoned Minerva to sit on a cushion at her feet. She undid the rest of the chignon, combing the hair between her fingers.

"Home-tutored," Minerva said, her derision audible. "One might think that would lead her to be more imaginative about curricular affairs, but no. Her parents apparently found the Hogwarts curriculum of the nineteen-fifties too unorthodox, too liberal."

Augusta moved her fingers down to the nape of Minerva's neck and began to press on the knots there. "Which of course means they were not fond of Hogwarts' acceptance of Muggleborns." She paused to rub a particularly gnarly spot. "One would think she would welcome the return of the Dark Lord, then."

Minerva snorted. "You would, but only if it were to her certain advantage. She would love, I think, to have the entire Ministry, or at least a division of it, under her thumb. As it is, Cornelius was only persuaded to give her the future of our children." She chuckled. "Well, others' children, in my case. Though I do feel rather maternal at times."

"Ah." Augusta nodded and dug her thumbs between Minerva's shoulder blades. "So Dolores won't show her true colours unless the Dark Lord does take control?"

"She's shown her colours already," Minerva gasped. "Now, might we speak of something else?"

"Of course. I'd just wished to know more about this harridan who caused the cancellation of my NEWT-level lecture on Transfigurations Theory." She gentled the pressure of her hands on Minerva's back, letting the heels of her palms make larger circles.

Minerva moaned. "Well, I wish to know where you've been practising your massage skills, Augusta. Ought I be jealous?" Her head fell forward.

"Not at all," Augusta murmured, bending so her breath brushed past Minerva's ear. "Reading up a bit, yes, but my hands are all for you."

Minerva craned her neck to kiss Augusta's fingers, which had moved to the front of her shoulders. "Well, you are a miracle, then. As always." She inhaled deeply. "Remind me to ask you about your intents should war break out." At Augusta's own intake of air, she rushed to add, "No, don't tell me now. I wouldn't want to corrupt this relaxing atmosphere."

Augusta chuckled. "As you wish."


~* VI *~

The skin hung looser around Minerva's face but the lines on her forehead seemed even deeper despite that. The crinkles her eyes had acquired through decades of laughter were turning down, and the falling hood of her cloak unveiled new streaks of grey in her formerly-raven mane.

She's looking much older, Augusta thought as she finally got a good look at her lover in the light of the Entrance Hall. Damn. For such rapid aging was never due merely to time. No, it meant the stress of work, life, and the fear her charges would be attacked were all adding to age's draw toward the grave. I'll have to make a better offer, then.

"I'll take you directly to your rooms, of course," Minerva was saying, "so you can freshen up a bit before taking dinner in the Great Hall."

"Hm," Augusta responded non-committally. She followed Minerva down the corridor. "Is this not the way to your quarters, Minerva?"

Minerva huffed. "Indeed. I took care to have your arrangements placed near my rooms and took the liberty of asking Albus to create a passage between our sitting rooms so we would not have to venture through the draughts of the corridor in order to visit and consult."

Augusta smiled. "Yes, it is important to be able to avoid the cold when we are eager to share our...thoughts," she quipped.

"Quite so." Minerva stopped in front of a portrait of a young girl who bore a remarkable resemblance to Ariana Dumbledore.

"Password," the child in the portrait said, and Augusta realised that yes, this was the inimitable Ariana.

"For your visit," Minerva intoned, as much to Ariana as to Augusta, "the password to these quarters is 'granny fanny'."

Augusta could not help but join the fourteen-year-old in snickering as the portrait swung open. She noticed colour rising in Minerva's cheeks.

"Albus," she said, leading Augusta through. It was more than enough explanation. "It should certainly be changed after you depart later this week."

"Of course," murmured Augusta. "It is rather a wicked farce of a password, however. I suppose the old codger was in a particularly randy mood?"

Minerva's eye roll indicated the extent of her exasperation. "Who knows? But he's been acting on his ridiculous whims more and more, ever since he injured his hand."

Augusta had no idea what to make of that. She'd seen, of course, the Daily Prophet's reports that Dumbledore was becoming increasingly erratic, as well as its editorial opinion that if he couldn't be trusted to brew his own potions any more, he certainly should not be trusted to guide and protect the next generation. "I'm sorry?" she asked Minerva.

"Oh, come, I've got tea waiting." Minerva headed to the door that separated their sitting rooms before Augusta could even divest her outer robes. Indeed, a full tea service awaited them in front of the banked fire. Taking a seat on the divan, she opened her arm to invite Augusta into the seat beside her. Placing her robe on the back of the sofa and her hat on a side table, Augusta sat.

It was not until the two were cuddled together with teacups in hand that Minerva expanded on Albus' condition.

"He says he's dying. He doesn't believe he shall make it to next autumn's term. In fact, he's attempting to train both Severus and myself to take over as Head when he is no longer able to serve in that capacity."

Minerva's voice was crisp, detached. Businesslike, even. Augusta never would have guessed she was speaking of a beloved mentor and friend. "Why both of you? I would have thought you would be the natural successor," she asked.

"Preparing for every contingency," Minerva said. Her voice was more devoid of emotion than Augusta could remember it being in decades. "The Board has to appoint the Head, of course, and Albus believes it possible for the Dark Lord to stack it with his followers."

A chill ran down Augusta's spine. Not so much at the idea of serving with Death Eaters (she could handle them, at least as far as school politicking went), but at the steady blankness of her lover. Who had not looked at her in several minutes now.

Augusta turned in her seat and reached up to turn Minerva's head toward her. "Look at me," she said. When she had Minerva's attention she continued. "You're with me, now, Minerva. While I would normally applaud your discretion, I must confess I am a bit put off by the seeming lack of blood in your veins."

Minerva smiled bitterly. "It's there," she said, "but rather convinced it's better to hide than be spilt."

"Not acceptable, dear," Augusta reprimanded. "I shall have to convince it to make an appearance." Weaving her fingers into Minerva's hair, she pulled the other woman's head forward, tugging at the strands at Minerva's nape as she did so. Minerva gasped. Augusta chortled. "I see a bit of hair-pulling and a stern command can still get a rise, eh?"

Pink staining her cheeks, Minerva conceded the observation and submitted to two kisses, tender then thorough. Encouraged, Augusta bit at her lover's lower lip to get it to part from its mate. After allowing a bit of tongue-play, Minerva pulled back. "Trust you to distract me," she breathed.

"Dear, you need the distraction. I haven't the slightest idea how you managed to revamp your curricula, given what else is going on around here." She sat back, head on Minerva's shoulder once more.

"That too is a distraction," Minerva admitted. "Much preferable to throw myself into theory and pedagogy than to consider the implications of Albus' passing."

"And what does he say about it?"

Minerva snorted. "'To the well-organised mind, death is merely the next adventure,' or some such rot. He speaks of being terribly old and having lived out his real usefulness, needing to get out of the way of the next generation and so forth."

"And for you and Severus?"

"Oh, 'embrace life!' and 'hang together, friends!' He's been very clear that we are to support one another's efforts at Heading the school, as though we would not be."

Augusta raised an eyebrow. Realising that Minerva couldn't see it from their position before the fire, she commented, "And you can't think of plausible reasons the two of you would have not to support one another — other than mere rivalry?"

Minerva thought a moment. "To be perfectly honest, I can't imagine Severus or I doing something so reprehensible that the other would lose faith. He's a committed enough educator to not countenance weakening of the curriculum, and so long as children like to rebel against authority figures, particularly strict ones, I've no fear he would succeed at 'indoctrinating' students according to the Dark Lord's wishes. I'm confident he would say the same of me."

"Is that the worst that could happen?" Augusta murmured, tracing small circles on Minerva's thigh.

"Severus would never, never allow students to come to harm. Of this I am sure."

"You trust him more than I."

"With my life."

"That's quite an endorsement."

Minerva paused before answering. "It is. But I believe he has proved himself over the years."

"Fair enough." Augusta's fingers kept drawing on the skirt covering Minerva's legs, but had digressed from circles to runes and sigils.

"You have no interest in hearing about any of this, have you?" Minerva turned slightly so she could see her lover's face.

"I find seducing you to be more interesting, Minerva. It's nothing to do with what you are speaking of. I'm content to hear the sound of your voice."

"It's starting to creak," Minerva protested.

Augusta snorted this time. "Hardly." She paused. "But if you are so consumed by the carryings-on of Albus, Severus, the Dark Lord, or any other person, I can stand waiting. I want your full attention for what I've got in mind."

"Oh?" Minerva's tone was amused. "I suppose I can concentrate on you. I have been known to stop considering one topic for another, when my passion is aroused."

"Excellent," Augusta hissed and leaned over to snog Minerva once more. Tonight I show her exactly how lovely she is, how lovely life can be, when one puts off the cares of the world for a bit. She stood, reaching out to help Minerva up.

Taking her hand and muttering something about still being able to move around in her old age, Minerva stood. Augusta grabbed her hat with her free hand as she led Minerva toward the professor's bedroom. The two sat on Minerva's bed, facing one another with Augusta's hat between them.

"Might as well take care of this first," Augusta said before thrusting her wand in the direction of the hat and transfiguring it into a sparkling turquoise dildo with the familiar harness.

"Ah, new toy, then?" Minerva giggled even harder than usual. This giggling was why Augusta had learned to do the Transfiguration as soon as sexual relations seemed likely: the fit of giggles tended to lighten the mood, sure, but also to distract them from any erotic tension they had built.

"Are the sparkles too much?" For the life of her, Augusta couldn't imagine what had precipitated this level of humour from her companion.

"Oh, Augusta," Minerva gasped, tears of mirth leaking from her eyes, "I do think if you had been a queer man, you'd have done much better at Charms than you did!"

"Pardon?" Augusta asked, still chuckling.

"It's just — Do you remember how young Neville was upset that you didn't want him to take Charms when he wasn't up to NEWT standards in Transfiguration? I, er, just remembered that the reason you became so proficient was the desire to make things like that." She paused for breath again. "And if you had been a queer boy, you would have spent more time inventing charms to slick your lovers up!" She collapsed backward, a hand spread across her diaphragm as she tried to calm her laughing.

Augusta shook her head before leaning over Minerva's prone form. "Lucky for you I was determined to be as skilled a lover as any in Slytherin," she said, moving Minerva's hand to the side of her body before straddling the woman. Her belly brushed the body below her; she felt Minerva's sharp intake of breath at the change in mood indicated by both position and tone.

"Mm, what are you up to now?" Minerva asked.

"Only preparing you for unspeakable pleasures, dear."

"Do tell," Minerva said with a smirk before reaching up to draw Augusta into another kiss.

"I'd rather show," Augusta returned, moving down to nip by Minerva's ear, smiling against the reddened bit of skin when Minerva moaned. She followed with light, teasing kisses along her jaw line and down her neck.

Minerva shivered and arched her neck. She tried to move an arm up to embrace Augusta, but the other woman grabbed her hand and placed it back on the bed. "Shh, just let me," Augusta insisted. Though their romps were usually of the give-and-take variety, tonight she wanted to pamper her lover.

Augusta loved to catalogue all the changes Minerva's age had wrought — changes that made her even more unique than she had been at the age of sixteen. The strange patterns of white shimmering among the black hair on her head were echoed in other regions of hair on her body; though Augusta rarely said it aloud, Minerva's hair looked like her magic.

As she'd always been thin, Minerva hadn't nearly the amount of loose skin Augusta sported. But this made what was loose even more exciting. Augusta was convinced Minerva's neck was even more sensitive now that her skin could be gathered between her teeth and tugged gently across the musculature beneath.

Augusta took time on Minerva's arms, still strong after all these years of demonstrating wand movements with precision lesson after lesson. Her posture was always so straight, so contained, that Augusta cherished every tremble, every arch her ministrations caused.

She moved her hands to Minerva's old-fashioned bodice and began to undo the buttons. Her own frock had a zip-front; she had transfigured it so before Minerva arrived to cut down on the time it would take to disrobe. Though she did not want to hurry, neither did she wish to go so slowly that their time together would run out before curfew in Hogsmeade. Professors were no longer given leave to spend nights out.

Undressed, Augusta let herself settle atop Minerva, breasts nestled together as they kissed and stroked one another; Augusta finally allowed her lover to move her hands in caresses. She backed down to take one of Minerva's tits in her mouth. A witch's tit, indeed, she thought as she sucked first nipple, then areole, and finally as much of the mammary as could fit in her mouth. Minerva's hands fell back as she used her elbows to prop up her torso; she made high, moaning noises, sounding nearly like an owl.

Augusta dragged her breasts down Minerva's body as she kissed her way toward the other woman's hips, thighs, pussy. She lapped lightly at the lather, then used her fingers to spread Minerva's sparse natural wetness around. Looking up with burning eyes, she said, "I would very much like to fuck you this afternoon. Would that be agreeable?"

"Oh Circe, yes," groaned Minerva, so Augusta stood and strapped on her dildo.


~* VII *~

"It's good to know some things never change," Minerva said, a weak smile painted on her face. Indeed, the Hog's Head Inn was filled with those marginalised in the new social order: still some of those with 'shady' dealings (though 'shady' had been somewhat redefined as having to do with who was selling goods rather than the goods being sold), persons with debatable blood status, persons with creature heritage, and the offspring of neutral families.

Those who would fight on the side of the Light were already in deep hiding, except for those who were still employed by Hogwarts School.

"Indeed," said Augusta, rising from her bar stool. "I thought we'd take tea upstairs, in my room." To speak openly of anything of consequence could lead to charges of treason and summary execution if they were overheard.

The Hog's Head was still a prime location for overhearing and gossip. There was no doubt the Dark Lord would know about Minerva's visit there within the hour.

Thank Merlin none of the Death Eaters is quite so good at Transfigurations, Augusta found herself thinking. Or perhaps they are simply uninterested in being tucked away with the children when there are Muggles, Mudbloods, and Blood Traitors to be caught and tortured.

Likely it was the second option. Either way, Augusta was grateful for any grace that fell Minerva's way. The woman was entirely headstrong, and while her brilliant mind could analyse the options more quickly than any other person Augusta had met, Minerva could still act impulsively. Being needed by the regime, or at least the school, was her safety net.

She took Minerva's offered elbow and the two made their way up the stairs. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Minerva cast a one-way Silencio and several strong locking wards.

"Augusta, I'm terrified," she said.

The other woman eyed her. "You knew what this year would be before it started."

"Yes, but I hadn't any idea how much Severus would accede to the Dark Lord's orders." She sat on the bed, head in her hands. Augusta sat beside her, wrapping an arm round her waist.

"Tell me," Augusta said. "I know your owls have barely mentioned anything of importance."

Minerva took a deep breath, lifting her head to stare into the middle distance, as if cataloguing what needed to be communicated. "Well, you know Severus brought in Amycus Carrow to teach Dark Arts," she shuddered, "and Alecto Carrow to replace Charity Burbage," she hiccoughed.

"Breathe, baby," Augusta said, giving in to what maternal instincts she had. Minerva hated coddling, yet at times like this, Augusta believed she knew better. Even Minerva McGonagall needed to be cared for like a child at times. She handed her lover her own handkerchief.

"Thanks," Minerva said. "I just worry so much about the children. They are being taught not just to hate Muggles and everything connected with Muggledom, but to hate and curse those who do not agree with the Dark Lord's programme. Even second-years are being taught Unforgivable Curses!"

Augusta winced. "That does seem a bit young."

"And to think you lot approved these appointments!" Minerva fumed.

"And what would you have had us do, hm?" Augusta had anticipated the accusation and prepared a response. "Severus' appointment came down through both the Ministry and the pressure all of us felt to preserve ourselves and our families! Would you have had another Death Eater installed as Albus' successor?"

"No," said Minerva. "I would not have had him murdered."

Augusta softened her tone. "Of course not. But once he was, and once the Ministry fell, the game became one of mitigating damage, not preventing it. Severus clearly thought the Carrows, though terrible, would be less terrible than some of the alternatives. Imagine if the Dark Lord had sent Greyback to teach Care of Magical Creatures."

Minerva retched. She had been the one to carry Bill Weasley to the Hogwarts Infirmary only months before. Augusta embraced her once more, stroking her hair. "Just so," she murmured. "Never think that those of us on the Board who remain on the side of the Light aren't taking the good of the children into account."

Minerva's face was streaked with tears as she raised it. They sparkled on her eyelashes, their beauty incongruous to the situation. "The children who refuse to perform the Cruciatus are given detentions in which other children practise Cruciatus on them."

"There is a resistance, then?" Augusta said as she nodded her comprehension.

"Of course — many of the same children who resisted Dolores two years ago. Your grandson seems to be chief among them."

Augusta smiled. "Of course he is," she said. "Neville's got more courage in him than I'd thought when he was a small boy."

"He seems to have cultivated some leadership skills as well," Minerva said. "I believe he's tutoring several students in Defence and is also the mastermind behind the graffiti campaign in the corridors."

"Graffiti? Somewhat tacky, don't you think?"

"It causes smiles among most of the staff and students, so I'm inclined to tolerate and even encourage it. Smiles are rather hard to come by recently."

Augusta bit her lip, afraid to ask what she truly wanted to know. Seeing her hesitation, Minerva took her head between her hands. "He isn't safe, Augusta, but he wouldn’t want to be, in these circumstances." She thought for a moment before adding, "I believe there will come a time soon when he may need to escape."

"Can you help him?" Augusta asked, tremors in her voice and body betraying her fear.

"Not from inside the castle," Minerva admitted. "I'm watched too closely. But..." she paused. "Severus hasn't bothered to revoke the privileges Albus gave the Heads of House to facilitate alterations in the castle."

Augusta tapped her chin. "That doesn't seem to help much, though, since you say you can't do anything from inside."

"True. But I might be able to set things in place so the students can help themselves, should they be clever enough." Augusta merely stared in response, so Minerva continued, "I have heard tell that there is a room that becomes whatever one may require — rumour has it Potter and his friends set up shop there whilst resisting Dolores Umbridge. If that is so, then the students who were in that group two years ago ought to be able to access it again, don't you think?"

Augusta's eyes sparkled for the first time that day. "Indeed! So you think you could require it to create safe escape routes upon request?"

"Upon requirement," Minerva stipulated. "And since I can authorise changes to the castle architecture and decor..."

"We had better find a safe place for the passage to end."

Minerva frowned. "Bugger." She paused thoughtfully. "I really don't know how far the influence of the Room might extend. It would probably have to be somewhere quite local." She smirked. "It may be time to seek the assistance of the good proprietor of this establishment."


~* VIII *~

One could still see dust and smoke rising from the castle, Minerva noted as she made her way back to the Hog's Head two days after the Battle of Hogwarts. Funny: one did not notice it so much when one was in the midst of it all. Rebuilding, of course, had to wait until the burials were concluded and the building checked for magic-resistant structural damage, but she hadn't thought Hogwarts Castle to still be undergoing destruction.

Another task set for herself, more urgent than the memorials or even her appointment with Augusta, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, determined to care for her heart for once.

The children had all left, in any case.

Augusta was once again holding court in the corner booth at the Hog's head. Sun shone through the grimy window, making the silver streaking her brown curls shine like beacons of hope. Goodness, I've become maudlin even in my pleasant thoughts! Minerva chided herself. "Gussie!" she called out, reaching for a more light-hearted time.

"Minnie! So glad you could make it, dear!" Augusta rose from her seat and strode the several steps to embrace her. One would never guess by their stances that they were in their seventies; even for Wizarding folk they were hale for their age. Which made sense; the weak and infirm had largely stayed far from Hogwarts and indeed Hogsmeade over the past year.

The two settled into their booth, smiling and waving at the still-disgruntled anti-social types who were the Hogs Head's typical clientele. More than one set of eyebrows lifted in surprise, but several patrons smiled and waved back.

The smell of freedom was heady.

"Augusta, I cannot believe you would put yourself at such risk — how did you even know the Battle was starting?" Minerva asked.

"Oh," Augusta replied airily, "I'd set up my own arrangement with Ariana and Aberforth that night that we decided to help out the students. I had a brief visit in a portrait at my own house, informing me that if I wanted to get in on the action, I ought to come quickly."

Minerva looked impressed. "Clever of you," she said.

"I couldn't let you have all the fun, now, could I?" Augusta said teasingly. "Besides, having dealt with Death Eaters on my own property, I was incensed they would come to yours as well."

"It's not my property," protested Minerva.

"It might as well be, as I imagine you'll be the Headmistress now."

Minerva groaned. "Don't remind me. So much work, and so little of it teaching and researching!" She reached out and took Augusta's hand. "I must admit I find your plan to get into Hogwarts almost unexpectedly devious. Though I can't help but wonder why you did not make this information available to me. I did not even know you might come until I saw you directing marbles at Death Eaters and Giants."

"Oh, that was fun," Augusta said, though her fist had tightened under Minerva's hand. "And, well, communication into the castle was not very reliable, especially with both your owls and mine being carefully watched." She paused before looking up from their hands to make eye-contact. "You were marvellous in battle, dear," she said softly.

When Minerva responded, there was bitterness in her voice. "I could do so little," she said, choking back a sob. "Young Colin Creevey, dead, Fred Weasley, Vincent Crabbe, Remus and Tonks..."

"They were all willing to take that risk, same as you. And for every desk, suit of armour, or gargoyle you sent to its destruction, you prevented a student or colleague from becoming a flesh-corpse. You do realise that? That you saved so many by how you chose to fight?"

"I cannot cope with the idea that some of my students killed others of my students," Minerva confessed bleakly, "while I barely slowed down the onslaught of the Magical Creatures and Death Eaters."

Augusta moved her free hand to pat Minerva's knee.

"And marbles! Wherever in the castle did you find marbles?" Minerva was changing the subject without changing the subject. Augusta would indulge her.

Augusta gestured to Aberforth. "A bottle of Ogden's, if you please, Abe." She took a quill and ink from her purse and transfigured both into tumblers; on second thought, she transfigured a hairpin as well. "Do join us, Aberforth," she said as he approached. "We all owe our freedom to you as much as anyone."

"Nah, you don't. But I'll take a glass of that Firewhisky anyway, if you don't mind." Taking one of the glasses from Augusta, he tossed back the two fingers of Firewhisky it contained. He slid it back to Augusta, who had similarly thrown back her own. Minerva sat sipping her drink and looking upon the two of them fondly.

"To answer your question, Minerva, I transfigured them from the dust in the air. It's the most practical application of the latest transfigurations theory I've found." Augusta spoke as though there had been no interruption and no newcomer to the conversation.

"I suppose you'll not have use for my rooms anymore, now that the war is over," Aberforth grumbled. He nodded in Minerva's direction. "'Specially since you get to determine who enters and exits that school over there now."

"Ah, but Aberforth, the room to the rear has become a second home to us," Minerva countered. "Not to mention, it would hardly set a good example for me to drink hard liquor whilst in the near-company of students."

Aberforth grunted.

"Besides," added Augusta, "we do love having a place to retreat to when we want to remain undisturbed." She grinned mischievously.

"But no more of this cloak-and-wand business?"

"No more of the cloak-and-wand business. We shall celebrate this new societal order by acknowledging our relationship publicly." Minerva's words were strong, but she bit her lip.

"And if anyone has a problem with it, we can sort them out. We won't even need to enlist the help of Harry and Neville, bless them, as we are ourselves war heroines." Augusta looked at Minerva's face again. "Aberforth, would you mind sending up a pot of chamomile tea? I believe I have a war heroine to comfort."

At Aberforth's nod, Augusta pushed the table out a bit and stood, taking Minerva's hand. "Come, dear," she said as she led her lover to the stairs, "let us escape our troubles for a bit."

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