Be Brave Little Lions

Minerva McGonagall | 32 | Transfigureations Professor | A Silencio RP Blog

[talldarkandmoody]

A Light In The Dark | A&M

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

talldarkandmoody ​

He saw her in his dreams. The vision of an angel with a voice like honey, speaking his name as if God himself was smiling down upon him. It took a few moments to realize that it wasn’t a dream, that she had returned to him. Cracking a lid, he peeked out beyond the chair and that’s when he saw her. Truly saw her. Knelt on the ground beside him, gently coaxing the Auror awake. She knew how to get to him, the best way to approach a sleeping bear wasn’t to prod it violently.

He absolutely hated that she was on her knees, however. For any reason other than working his cock was simply unacceptable. “Sorry baby, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He mumbled sluggishly, as the lights slowly began to flick on in his head. Her gentle tugging was enough for him to uncross a heavy body and pull himself from the chair. A moment later, he’d lifted her up with him. Holding her against his chest, curled up in a petite little ball, the Auror pressed a kiss to her lips, then her forehead as he walked them both over there.

The bed was nothing like the bunks found in the students quarters. A king size, four poster. He placed her down on one side, pulling the covers up over that perfect body as he walked around the bed. Kicking the bulk of his clothes off on the way, until he was stripped down to cotton boxers. Slipping under the covers on the other side, a hand snaked it’s way across until it had wound around Minerva and pulled her hard against him.

He needed to feel her, needed the proximity of her body as it resettled atop of his own. “How was your day?” He asked in a low murmur, lips finding the top of her head again as a large, tattooed hand rubbed circles across her back. God, he missed her. Moments like this were few and far between and he craved them, craved them like a junkie searching for it’s next fix. He was her vice, and the only one he needed.

Smiling gently, she tilted her head as she stared up at him. “Which only means you haven’t been sleeping at all,” observed Minerva, without reprimand or bite. There was a part of her that wanted to shake him, to take his handsome face between her hands and demand that he take better care of himself, but she ignored it. 

Not only was Alastor Head Auror, he was also the Order’s co-founder. Lives depended on him. He was a Lieutenant General in this secret war of theirs, and the weight of that responsibility was crushing. Sleepless nights were likely the least of what he’d been suffering these nights they’d been apart. She knew because of the bruises under his tired eyes and the wan tone of his normally golden huen skin. Her man was being consumed by this life he’d chosen, and she wished he had come to her sooner. 

She dropped her hand from his forearm when he unfolded himself from the chair, pulling her up into his arms with him as he stood to his full height. Minerva rested her elbows on either of his shoulders, busied one hand by carding her fingers through his hair while the other traced the hard angles of his face. Her smile was soft, warm, as tender as the adoration in her gaze as she stared down at Alastor, unprotesting as he carried her over to the bed. 

Overly ambitious as he was, Alastor put her to bed still in her robe. He folded the comforter back, laid her down, tucked her in, with the attentiveness of a man prone to taking care of people. Even if he skipped a few steps along the way, and even if those people were able to take care of themselves. An amused huff escaped her when he left her side of the bed to prowl over to the other and disrobe. As he did, she sat up to do the same. 

Minerva unfastened the knot keeping her robe shut, then shrugged out of the comfortable cotton, leaving her in one of Alastor’s old shirts and little else. She tossed it aside, not caring where it landed, not when Alastor looked as tired as he did, and was moving like the weight of his burdens were going to crush him at last. 

Watching as his pants fell, kicked aside so he could crawl in beside her in nothing but his boxers, she admired the cords of muscle, the rippling strength of his body, even as she worried how often he was testing the limits of that strength, overextending himself; both with that hard earned body and the brilliant mind behind those dark, depthless eyes. He wasn’t settled under the dovers for a second before he reached over, grabbed her by the waist, and yanked her over to him in a single tug. 

She couldn’t help the quiet yelp and silent laugh that escaped her when he pulled her into him. She knew how he wanted to lay: her curled against him, head on his chest, her tiny body pressed flush against his massive frame. But Minerva also knew how he needed to lay, so she wriggled out from where he’d tucked her, a pointed look halting any protests as she grabbed her pillow, stacked it on another, lay with her back slightly elevated before motioning for him to roll onto her, welcoming his weight with open arms, needing the stifling heat of him to burn away the recent stress that had consumed them all.

Pulling him onto her, she scratched the nails of one hand lightly against his scalp and the other up and down his back. Her inhale filled her lungs with the scent of him, and her exhale was content as she answered his question, knowing he’d feel her voice, her breathing, her every heartbeat as she answered a question as mundane as ‘how was your day?’.

“My day was rather busy,” she said into the dimness of her hearth-lit bed chambers.  “Between preparing for exams, reinforcing the wards, and managing the students, this is the first moment of respite I’ve had all day.” 

Minerva kissed his hairline, still scratching his scalp and rubbing his back. “And yours, my love? What has my lionhearted auror looking so battleworn?” She could guess any number of reasons, but she wanted to hear him say it, hoped he would talk it through with her, let her shoulder some of the burden so it didn’t flatten him under its weight.

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

Guilty Pleasures | Open

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

silenciocresswell​

“Oh, thank goodness, that’s a relief.” he said with a small nod, hating the idea of causing any kind of scene.

It didn’t help that (once again) he seemed to be the youngest of a group. It had been nice rising through the ranks of Hogwarts to the top but then he reached a peak and now he was back to being ‘the baby’ only now it was of an office instead of a school. It felt like he was expect to be unsure and make mistakes, and while he was a lot of the former, he was doing his utmost to avoid the latter.

So far he’d been quite successful, and he aimed to keep it that way. It wasn’t easy when he had to deal with this somewhat omnipresent fear curling in his gut that everything from a tall, broad person or a sudden noise in the dark could set off. He hated it. But he hated even more that now, weeks after the event in question, he still couldn’t shake it. He was sure other people got over things like this more quickly, or could at least get on with their lives without jumping about like a hen in a fox den.

So, sitting down here and having an adult conversation seemed like a good way to go at overcoming his jumpiness, he hoped…

He wasn’t doing that great at it so fat though, sitting like he expected the chair to buck him off at any moment or (ever more terrifyingly) try and make small talk with one of the scariest (but definitely coolest) Professors at his old school.  What is she asked him about transfiguration? He’d hardly been keeping up with it once he’d left the school, it wasn’t like he had much need of it in his life.

He swallowed slightly as the book disappeared, of crud, had she seen that he’d seen? Should he be embarassed? It felt like his cheeks were a little hot. He cleared his throat and looked down, finding his hands on the table so very fascinating.    

“Broomsticks Bingo, Professor?“ he asked, tilting his head a little. It wasn’t something he could think of, but then he’d usually been here with school friends or work colleagues too busy chatting the night away.

“Oh yeah, I remember those.” he swallowed, “I’m pretty sure I didn’t sleep for that week of school.” He’d considered brewing some calming draught for himself but luckily hadn’t followed that plan through; given how frazzled he’d been he’d probably have ended up brewing something that did him in.

“O-oh, that’s going great.” he said, a small real smile finally his lips, “Mr. Mockridge is a great boss and I’m learning so much shadowing him! I’ve made some new goblin friends and get to see my old ones all the time. I do miss the Great Lake’s mertribe though, I wonder if Professor Dumbledore would ever let me visit them?” he wondered for a moment and added, “And I’m learning Giant Tongue now, I can hold a pretty good conversation too.”

It was an effort to keep from chuckling at Dirk’s concentrated evasion of her gaze or the cover of the book she removed from the table to stow away in her pocket. Minerva didn’t laugh at the faint pink hue coloring his cheeks, didn’t acknowledge his discomfort beyond a barely perceptible twitch at the corner of her mouth, a slight curling that was there and gone before his sudden fascination with his hands lifted to meet her gaze again. 

In her experience, some students remained students well after graduation. Dirk, it seemed, was determined to fall under that category. It would take time and a little self discovery for him to recognize that they were both adults. She was no longer his professor, and he was no longer a child. They could be friends if he wanted to be. But Minerva wouldn’t push. 

“It’s simple, really,” she explained, allowing a quiet smile to fully surface, conspiratory at its edges. Turning to observe the pub and its patrons, she directed his attention to their surroundings as well. “The objective is to observe as many commonalities possible within a controlled environment. For example: a man with a bushy mustache and a fruity cocktail.” 

She scanned the room then smiled a touch wider. Nodding Dirk’s attention to a table on the far side of the room, she pointed out the ruddy faced Scotsman, with a Balmoral and a mustache as thickly bristled as a horse brush, was nursing a sunset colored drink that came garnished with an umbrella. 

Turning her focus away from her B, she refocused on Dirk and named her I. “An aged out entertainer drunkenly reminiscing their long passed prime.” Minerva jerked her head to the side, motioning Dirk’s gaze over her shoulder to the bar, where Rosmerta was half listening to the warbling voice of the old bat singing about the stage. 

“It’s an excellent method to train yourself to be aware of your surroundings,” she said mildly, lifting her own wine glass to her mouth and taking a sip. Nothing in her stature or expression implied why Dirk would want that, but she knew it was a valuable skill to have. Even if he hadn’t undergone something traumatic. 

Her smile was soft, quiet, when Dirk recalled his own restlessness in regards to exam time. “It’s a harrowing time for us all, but necessary.” For all her students' stress in having to study for their exams, the professors had to prepare exams and ensure their students were as ready as they could be to take them. The sleepless nights and haggard appearances were commonplace among the student body and faculty alike.

The sight of a genuine smile brightening Dirk’s face caused her own smile to widen. “Sounds like a good fit,” she commented, glad that he’d found his place and was enjoying his work. Many graduates had more trouble finding their niche, she was pleased that that wasn’t the case for young Mister Cresswell. “I can speak with him, if you’d like; see about reconnecting you with the lake’s merpeople.” She didn’t think it would take much convincing. Dirk was a sweet lad, with good intentions and straightforward desires. Minerva doubted Dumbledore would turn him away.

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

Guilty Pleasures | Open

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

the-underestimated-amelia-bones​

“I could think of a few other words,” Amelia said teasingly. She ran her finger absently over the rim of her glass as she grinned at the older witch. “Which ones come to your mind?”

It was practically the trademark for people like them, not to want to talk about themselves. The helpers of the world gently turned the conversation away, distracted others until they forgot which question they even asked. “I’m entirely trustworthy,” Amelia reassured Minerva with a winning smile, taking a sip from her own glass. Truthful, however, was another matter, at least in this case. Amelia was glad that Minerva didn’t press her harder, but she also noticed when the other witch didn’t quite answer the question either.

They were both practiced at this. Accomplished women more comfortable talking about their work than themselves. And yet, if anyone understood, Amelia felt Minerva would. Despite their differences.

Teaching was an ‘acceptable’ occupation for a woman, but Minerva was more than just a teacher. She was strict, and firm, and fair, and kind. And she cared about her students rather than just their grades. It was how Amelia tried to be with the Aurors as well, even if she was younger than half of them.  She wanted people to be able to come to her. That included Minerva, if she so desired.

The look she gave Minerva was knowing. Unspoken words indicating Amelia knew that Minerva had deftly avoided the bulk of the question. The only answer either of them had really given the other was that each was busy. But just as the dark haired woman didn’t push for more, Amelia, sitting back in the booth, did not either.

“Extra measures are being taken at the school, I assume?” she asked. Amelia could probably look into it once back at work, but she knew a talented with like Minerva would likely be involved in the planning.

“Maybe this will bring people more on the same page of the parchment. No one wants their children in danger.” It was unlikely, Amelia was sure, but she hoped it was true all the same. Naive and incorrect as it may be.

Minerva cocked an eyebrow. “Miss Bones, are you trying to bait me into gossiping about your brother?” She leveled Amelia with a look, holding her gaze for a beat before allowing a small smile to soften her expression and amusement to warm her eyes. 

The sight of Amelia’s bright, deflecting smile made her smooth her expression into impassive detachment. Not because the youngest Bones didn’t have a disarming and endearing smile, but because she was weaponizing it. As if a charming smile could win Minerva over. As if she didn’t have an army of children that waged emotional warfare daily, using the very same tactics. 

“I wasn’t questioning your trustworthiness, Amelia,” she replied, expression still neutral despite the challenging amusement shining behind her eyes. “Just your candor.” 

She understood why Amelia had sidestepped her question, was dodging it even now. They were women of secrets, many not their own, and were trusted for their discretion, their competence. Much as Minerva liked Amelia, and hoped the feeling was somewhat mutual, their history was too short for them to have built the kind of trust necessary for naked truths and unfiltered facts. She hoped it wouldn’t always be the case. Of anyone who might understand what it was to care for the members of the Order, while not being a member herself, the only other person that qualified was seated across from her now.

Nodding that Amelia had assumed correctly, she swallowed her sip of wine and set the glass on the table again, explaining, “Every precaution is being taken, wards reinforced, visitors being screened. We are taking every measure to ensure Hogwarts remains the impregnable safe haven it was made to be.” It wasn’t really a practiced speech, though she had said multiple variations to the many worried parents that owled the headmaster about their children’s safety. 

There was nothing more important than her students’ safety. While others might easily agree, Minerva was wholly devoted to that truth. Dumbledore was a man in many places with many projects, but her only focus was Hogwarts and its students. That would always be true.

“You would think,” Minerva said flatly in reply. She shook her head curtly as she scanned the pub in a quick glance that ended on the witch across from her. “There are few things more divisive than children and their safety. A few parents want to pull their children from the school, bring them home to keep them close. Reminding them that there is nowhere safer is an ongoing battle.”

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

Guilty Pleasures | Open

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

disxillusixned​

There was something breathtakingly magical about Hogsmeade. Even more magical than the magic itself, of course, considering how James’ life had been filled with it since birth. Maybe it was because of the abundance of teenage memories both born in the daytime and under the full moon. No place could compare, perhaps only Hogwarts itself, but other than that not even Diagon Alley could grab a hold of James’ insides (not a heart, mind you, he’s not that ridiculous) and squeeze it until he squirmed.

And what could be even better than a pint of a good ol’ ale served with Rosemrta’s pretty smile on the side and taken in one of the worn-out chairs by the fire in Three Broomsticks? Well, he could be there with somebody for a company, but of course, almost everyone he knew had other plans and James really felt like grabbing that pint. And in the late 1970s drinking alone shouldn’t really be frowned upon.

Those were the thoughts that had motivated James to pop into the village completely out of the blue and get settled comfortably by the fire sipping at the liquid that should most likely be much colder, but he couldn’t be bothered to mind. It was home after all and he could almost feel like a fourteen-year-old again only he had switched the butterbeer for some real alcohol.

It took him about ten whole minutes to realize that one of his very favourite people on earth was sitting nearby absolutely engrossed in a book — something that only a few years ago would have made him whip out his wand and prank his favourite teacher, happily facing the threat of detention. With as much over the top grace as he could muster, James left his own seat and squeezed himself into McGonnagal’s booth. ‘Madame… Has anybody told you that you are a sight for sore eyes?’ He greeted immediately upon getting her attention an old, but absolutely familiar grin taking its rightful place on his face. ‘A honey for the soul? Ah… No, that doesn’t sound right…But I don’t remember the correct idiom so we can go with that one.  Honey for the soul you are then.’

The trick, she learned, about reading these kinds of books out in the open was to keep her expression placid and disinterested. A skill Minerva had learned early in life, to keep her muggle father in the dark about magic, and not because of smutty adult fiction. So it was effortless to school her features into impassive neutrality as her eyes trailed along the text, absorbing all the ways the swaggering, pirate prince touched his freshly saved leading lady. 

Absorbed as she was in the book, she didn’t look up from it when she felt someone approach her table. It wasn’t until an ever irreverent James Potter plopped himself down at her booth that Minerva lifted her gaze to pin the young Auror with a pointed look. Affection bloomed in her chest at the sight of him before her, the crackling heat of a hearthfire in late autumn. 

James had been nothing but trouble since day one. Young as she was when she’d started instructing at Hogwarts, Minerva was certain that the few grey hairs she’d spotted were due to him and his merry band of mischief makers. In spite of the many detentions and deduction of House Points she’d issued them throughout their academic tenure, she had adored them. Still did. They were bright and creative, resourceful and a challenge she had enjoyed undertaking. 

He had grown into an admirable young man, and she was glad to see him sitting before her. Even if she did fold the corner of the page she was reading and shut the book with a level, “Mister Potter, you’ll find that I am as receptive to your attempts at flattery now as I was when you were a boy.” That was to say, not at all. She implied as much with her arched brow and stern look. Not an outright lie, flattery would still get him nowhere with her, but amusement shone as bright as the affection burning behind her sternum. 

She eyed him for a moment, taking in his face, his posture, the energy he exuded. After a moment of considering his appearance, she observed, “You seem in fine spirits,” and tucked her book back into her pocket as she prepared to devote her attention to the young man in front of her. “I trust you’ve been taking care of yourself.”

A quick glance was shot toward the bar, then the rest of the pub. “Will your other half be joining us, or did you come to terrorize Hogsmeade on your own?”

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

Guilty Pleasures | Open

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

silenciocresswell​

Well, at least his little accident hadn’t caused any damage to the table or it’s occupant. Honestly Dirk doubted he could cope with the embarrassment of knocking a drink over Professor McGonagall. Nor the stern look that would no doubt follow and make him feel two inches tall.

The Transfiguration teacher had always been somewhat intimidating to him, especially compared to other’s like Professor’s Sprout and Flitwick. That didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed her classes, transfiguration had been fun! If extremely difficult; he’d always had more natural talent for charms.

“U-umm yes, that would help wouldn’t it.” he chuckled softly, running a hand through his shockingly green hair. “I really didn’t mean to. I just had a umm,” he looked back a little jerkily, the figure in the long coat had just walked out of the pub, “I had a little bit of a surprise was all.” He wasn’t about admit to loosing his (so newly rediscovered) composure by just seeing someone who looked a little bit like the figure he’d seen in the woods that awful night.

Well, slightly embarrassing encounter with an old teacher aside it could’ve been much worse and his friends were watching him from their table and no doubt talking about him amongst themselves. They meant well but it was a little annoying.

He planned on making his way back to them when Minerva spoke again and asked him to sit with her. Oh… It wasn’t what he’d expected but he couldn’t very well refuse, that would be rude. He turned his head and waved to his table and pointed at the Professors, a few thumbs up all the permission he needed.

“That’s umm, very kind of you Professor, I hope I’m not interrupting your evening.” he said, slowly lowering himself onto his seat. “How are, umm, how are things at the school?” Dirk asked, looking for a safe subject. He’d half caught the cover of the book the professor had and couldn’t bring himself to think about her reading… steamy books.      

“Dirk,” she said quietly, softening her features so that he could see the smile waiting just underneath. “It’s fine. No harm done.”

He’d always been a flighty one, Dirk Cresswell. Quick to drop his gaze, turn his face, duck his head into his shoulders when she stared at him for too long. He’d been a sweet boy who had grown into an apprehensive young man. Still sweet, if a little timid. Years since she’d been his instructor, he still had that way about him; like if he avoided eye contact she might not call on him. 

Tracking his gaze, she realized that he’d come with friends. Minerva considered offering him an out, a way for him to politely decline her offer and make his way back over to the others. But the rigid line of his back, the nervous gleam in his eyes, and forced smile stopped her from providing an escape. Clearly he was still jumpy after the Wizarding Statute murders, the night and what he’d seen was still a shadow he couldn’t shake. 

He could get back to his friends in a moment. After she’d had the chance to decide for herself that he was well and truly alright. 

Dirk sat, still rigid, polite as ever. She stared across the table at him, quiet humor in her eyes even though she kept her expression bland. Of all the people to endure the trauma of finding those mutilated bodies, of course it was Dirk. Her father would have insisted that God never tested people beyond their limits, but she hated that Dirk had been tested this way at all.

The way he glanced briefly at the cover of her book hadn’t been missed. Smirking quietly to herself, she slid it into the pocket of her robes. Minerva offered him a small, reassuring smile. 

“Your timing couldn’t have been better, actually. I was about to take a break from reading to play a game I like to call Broomsticks Bingo.” Though she supposed it would be more akin to I Spy without a spreadsheet to keep track of Bingo squares.

His question about Hogwarts called for a long sip of wine. She swallowed and sighed, admitting, “O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts are just around the corner, so things have been rather busy.” Setting her glass back atop the table, she nodded at him, rebounding the question his way. “And you? How is Goblin Liaison training going?” 

There weren’t many students that she kept close track of after they graduated from Hogwarts and, admittedly, young Mr. Cresswell wasn’t one of them. But she and Alastor had discussed him, what he’d seen and was likely going through, so she had followed up on the boy. His bumping into her now was excuse enough to see for herself how he was holding up.

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

Guilty Pleasures | Open

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

the-underestimated-amelia-bones​

She was glad to not be interrupting. Amelia rarely felt more awkward than when she felt unwanted. Many times in her childhood, she had had to soldier through such uncomfortable encounters because she was doubly cursed; neither a Pureblood girl, nor a Bones girl ever ran away. Thankfully, this time her welcome seemed genuine.

Amelia took the seat across from Minerva gratefully. They were different women, but also very similar. In many ways. Though it might be easier for Amelia if the Hogwarts professor was a little less likeable, that was not the case. She was warm, beautiful, smart as a whip, and someone Amelia always enjoyed speaking to.

She was sure it didn’t come as a surprise to the other witch that she also had a book. Amelia did enjoy reading, and that was simply a well known fact. She also carried a book just in case the opportunity presented itself to pull it out. Her work kept her far too occupied for pleasure reading of late.

Looking over her shoulder, Amelia happened to meet Edgar’s gaze at that exact moment. He waved cheekily at her, and Amelia rolled her eyes, stifling a smile as she turned back to Minerva. She shook her head, and shrugged at her older brother’s antics. “He’s more entertaining than I am, that’s for sure,” she replied. “But I’ve been well. Busy, of course.”

She and Minerva were in the unique situations of knowing more than others, while others knew so little about them and their own positions. It was hard sometimes to hide her true feelings and affiliations, but Amelia knew it was necessary. She refrained from looking guiltily at Edgar again because they were not being entirely honest with each other either.

“How have you been?” she asked. “I can imagine things have been a little tense around the school. And now with the murders….”

“Entertaining,” repeated Minerva, tracking Amelia’s gaze over her shoulder to the eldest Bones who had no business behind Rosmerta’s bar, but seemed to be making himself at home there anyway. As he typically did. Old habits, she supposed. To Amelia, meeting her gaze again when the younger witch turned to face her, she said, “That’s a word for him.”

In truth, she rather liked Edgar, could relate to that stolid mask and the compassionate warmth hiding behind it. Minerva suspected the foundation of his tall walls was different than her own, but she understood their purpose. His sister, however, was more upfront with the light burning in her center. Approachable and good natured, not to mention her work ethic, Amelia was many of the things that Minerva wished she could be. It was always a pleasure to see the younger brunette. It wasn’t often they had the chance. 

“I can imagine,” she replied, her smile small as she regarded her, surveyed her features for the tired eyes and overworked glazed look that was becoming more prevalent among the Aurors and others in their department. The corner of her mouth curled into a not quite smile as Minerva observed, “The current climate doesn’t quite lend itself to downtime, does it? However, I’m glad that you’re doing well. I haven’t decided if I believe you, but I’ll leave well enough alone.” The sharp edge to her gaze had a distinct ‘for now’ as she nursed her wine.

Question returned to her, Minerva sighed, shoulders sagging a bit as she considered the wine in her glass, swishing lightly as she spun the step between her fingers. “Also busy,” she said, small smile resurfacing with her upward glance at Amelia. “We are near the end of the term, which is always an exciting time. Fortunately, with the exams looming, students have been devoting their time to studying rather than worrying about the world beyond the castle.”

She had to shake her head at the thought of the murders, how horrific and terrible those deaths had been. “Nothing is sacred to those people,” Death Eaters, she meant and knew Amelia would understand. “I suppose all we can do is our part to protect those unable to protect themselves.” For Minerva, it was her students, for Amelia, the wizarding world. There was no end to the respect she had for her.

[talldarkandmoody]

A Light In The Dark | A&M

Tapping the tip of his wand to the edge of the parchment between his fingers, the letter was engulfed in flames. He didn’t know why he’d written it, tried not to think too much about it. He was in a dark head space, pain and anger had plagued him for years but tonight it was unbearable. He couldn’t think straight, a montage of those he’d lost over the years flashing across his mind in rapid succession. 

He watched the orange flame as it curled the parchment, the magic heat licking at his fingers but not burning him. The letters melted into each other, until there was nothing left but smoke and ash. His hand fell limply to his side, eyes staring into the void of his apartment but unseeing. A sudden surge had him off the seat he was occupying and stalking towards the grated fireplace. 

A flick of his wand had green flames roaring and a moment later- he’d stepped into the fire and out the other side. The jackknife that hooked around his navel was never comfortable, but he couldn’t be bothered going to the edge of the grounds. The trek to her room would take too long and the risk of running into someone he knew was far too great. With the mood he was in, he pitied any fool that wasn’t her who came across him. 

Her chambers were exactly as he’d left them a few mornings prior. The only thing missing was Minerva. He paced the room for a few moments before giving up and sinking into the nearest, overstuffed arm chair. The fireplace shifted from green to warm orange, a larger than life version of the fire he’d created when burning the letter he’d written to Olivia Travers. Lifting his feet, the hell of his boots rested, crossed on atop the other at the ankles as he settling into the chair.

His arms crossed in a similar fashion, the heat caressing him as the peace and solace her chambers provided soothed his mind. He wasn’t sure how long she’d be out… fuck, he didn’t even know what time it was. Just that it was far too comfortable in here and all the worries, all the demons that plagued him, all his god damned baggage was checked at the door upon entrance. His eyes closed, heavy with exhaustion as his consciousness slipped away from the world, waiting for his girl to come home…

@tabbycatmcgonagall

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, Professor,” murmured a small, shaky voice. “Thank you.”

A rare, soft smile crossed her lips. Minerva brushed the girl’s hair back from her brow, before catching herself, nodding, and easing off of the edge of the bed. “If I catch wind that you were out of your bed again, you’ll get detention for a week. Understood?”

The girl nodded sharply, bringing her covers up to her nose as she stared up at her with round eyes. Voice muffled by the comforter, she squeaked, “Yes, Professor.”

She didn’t soften the steel in her expression. Not as she bade the girl goodnight, as well as the others who’d been pretending to sleep. The door shut soundlessly behind her, and Minerva strode her way out of the girl’s dormitory, back toward her own quarters. Each step made her heart feel heavier than the last, and she wondered if she’d be dragging it behind her by the time she got to her door. 

Tightening the belt of her robe, Minerva recalled the crying mess young Miss Karalis had been when she’d retrieved her from the bathroom. The Gryffindor first year was muggle born and scared for her family, unable to sleep after a day of her mind warping the Prophet’s news and imagining her family in the articles. She had taken the girl to the kitchens for tea and secret biscuits, had told her how it was alright to be afraid, that facing it was what made her brave. She had helped Miss Karalis draft a letter to her parents, then had let the girl use her owl to send it. By then her tears had dried and she’d stopped shaking, so Minerva had seen her to bed.

Her exhale was heavy when she reached her door. One hand on the handle, the other rubbing at her neck, Minerva re-entered the firelit quiet of her chambers pausing not a step into the space when she spotted the massive shadow occupying her armchair. The smile that surfaced was soft as she considered him, gently shutting the door behind her, hoping the soft thump and thunk of it closing and locking didn’t stir her shadow from his rest. 

It was incredible how he made everything around him seem so small. The chair he was occupying, the one she curled up in to read by the fire, was high backed with large curling arm rests, velvety and thickly cushioned. When she sat in it it felt like a throne. It was a miniature with Alastor slumped on its cushions, as was the rest of her small chambers, the kitchenette and bed that occupied the rest of the space. Even sleeping, he dominated the room and so much more if the tightness in her chest had any say.

Leaving her slippers at the door, Minerva crossed the chambers on silent feet. She stopped in front of the armchair, knelt beside it. The sides of her robe split to either side of her as she placed on hand on the chair’s curling armrest, and reached with the other for his crossed arms. “Alastor,” she said quietly before touching him. Minerva knew he had nightmares, had woken up to them enough to know the risk of startling him awake. Her touch was soft, her grip reassuring, she stared up the line of Alastor’s body to his face, waiting for his eyes to part so that she could feel the weight of his umber gaze staring back at her. On a gentle murmur, she commanded, “Come to bed,” and tenderly squeezed his arm, as if she would tug him out of the chair herself.

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

Guilty Pleasures | Open

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

the-underestimated-amelia-bones​

Amelia had popped into the Three Broomsticks to see Edgar. They had been exchanging Owls throughout the week, culminating in her promising to make the trip down on her next free evening. Amelia knew how Edgar worried about her, and she in turn worried about him. It was what siblings did, especially orphaned ones like them.

Still, she wasn’t going to spend the whole evening sitting at the bar chatting with her brother. For all that she acted like an eighty year old, Amelia was not there quite yet. As she turned to survey the crowd for the night, her eyes alighted on a familiar figure half hidden in the corner of a booth.

A quick smile crossed her features. Minerva McGonagall was one of the only women who could pull off reading in a pub. Amelia herself had done it several times, but not always with any great success. She argued with herself for a moment before taking her mulled wine and heading in the other witch’s direction. At least she could hope she was a better interruption than someone else might be.

“I hope that’s not work related,” she said, announcing her presence as she stopped by the side of the table. In her years since leaving Hogwarts, Amelia had been lucky enough to continue her relationship with the other woman. She had always admired her and her strong personality, her no-nonsense attitude. Sometimes, Amelia felt herself channelling her inner Minerva when faced with a particularly stubborn and obtuse opponent. Still, she didn’t want to be a pest.

“Would you like some company? Or even a buffer against further conversation?” She leaned forward a little, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I have a book in the pocket of my robes too,” she admitted.

Even as her gaze passed over the words, Minerva fought to keep her eyes from rolling. Delight was warm enough in her chest that she could feel a smile try to make a bid for her mouth, but the trick to reading this type of literature --however loosely she was using the word-- in public was stoicism. No one spoke like this, but it was difficult to argue the appeal of being encircled by muscular arms and promised the world by a dashing renegade. She clenched her jaw to keep from smiling as her thoughts went where they always did while on the topic of muscular arms and dashing renegades. 

Scene closing with the heros swinging from the Dread Pirate Lord’s sinking ship, Minerva leafed to the next chapter just as a figure stepped into her periphery. Glancing up from the page, a quiet smile rose as her focus found purchase on Amelia Bones’ lovely face. Her smile widened at the statement poised question and arched an eyebrow at the younger witch. 

“I can’t imagine it’ll be on the summer reading list,” she said flatly, folding the corner of the page. Eyeing the beautiful young woman, Minerva greeted her with a warm, “Amelia, how good to see you.”

She meant it, too. Not only was Amelia a talented and brilliant witch, she was a woman after Minerva’s own heart. Hardworking, ambitious, didn’t let anything get in her way, knew herself and her heart well enough to do what was right for her, no matter the consequences. It was a rare sort of bravery that very few mages had these days, and fewer women. Whether she knew it or not, Minerva was proud to know her. Glad that they were friends.

Before the question was asked, she was already gesturing to the available seat, an invitation in the wave of her hand, though her features were set with an expression that didn’t leave much room to argue. “Some company? No. But yours is always welcome” Her eyebrow raised at Amelia’s enigmatical stage whisper. Not breaking Amelia’s gaze, Minerva deadpanned, “You don’t say.”

She allowed herself to smile, shaking her head before meeting Amelia’s eyes again. “How have you been? While I see entirely too much of your brother, I feel like it’s been too long since we’ve had the chance to catch up.” Picking up her wine glass, she took a sip and waited for Amelia’s answer, glad for the ease of her company compared to whoever else might have accosted her tonight.

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

Guilty Pleasures | Open

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

silenciocresswell​

‘It’ll be good for you Dirk’ They said. Honestly, he hated that he was such a pushover sometimes. It was bad enough being the youngest in the department already. Sure almost all of his colleagues were really nice but it seemed he’d fallen into the role of ‘everyone’s baby brother’ without really asking to become it. The other staff members were always checking in on him, lightly ribbing him; one particularly boisterous one gave him a noogie the other day!

And then… He’d went and come across two bodies in the Hogsmeade forest.

He’d been sent home and several people had stopped by to see him, all worried about him (which to be fair, they’d rightly been… he hadn’t been doing that great) but he’d gotten better and was soon back to work and even then it felt a little like others walked on eggshells around him, like he’d break.    

He’d been determined to prove to everyone that he was alright and figured he’d been doing that well… Until someone suggested a trip to The Three Broomsticks and he’d gone too quiet. All heads had turned to him and then the outing had stopped being about fun and more about ‘Getting Dirk To Be More Okay With Hogsmeade.’

He really hadn’t wanted to come back, especially in the evening but if he didn’t they’d only worry more so he’d agreed after some cajoling and, to be fair, his colleagues hadn’t left his side for the whole evening. He was grateful to them, truly, this one time it felt more than a little like he needed the support.

“I’m going to get get another,” he said, feeling a bit more comfortable and determined to get his own drink if nothing else. So he made it to the bar okay, got his butterbeer and a surprisingly kind smile from Rosmerta he somewhat shyly returned… And on his way back a tall figure in a long dark coat blocked his path-

“Argh!” he yipped, stumbling backwards and bumping hard into a table behind him, the figure turned, looked at him in concern and asked if he was okay… Not him, this was fine. He nodded jerkily and the man went on his way; Dirk turned in kind and discovered who’s table he’d bumped into, “O-oh, Professor McGonagall, hello!” he said, voice a little high from leftover nerves, “S-sorry about that, I need to look where I’m going more.” he mumbled, running a hand through his shocking green hair.    

Somewhere around a decade of teaching had lent itself to an instinct a few shades shy of maternal. No, she hadn’t any youngsters of her own, but it was incredible the kinds of intuition that manifested when you spent enough time with children. A sixth sense she hadn’t known she’d possessed reacted faster than conscious thought.

Her hand reached forward on instinct, the wine glass’ stem slotting between her fingers as she pressed the base down onto the table. Not a second later the table jerked, the wine sloshed, and all that kept her glass from being knocked over was the weight of her hand on it. There had to be a name for this phenomenon. Cat-like reflexes, why the hell not.

She glanced up from her book to see a head of garish green hair and an apologetic smile that was too weak for her liking. Minerva cocked an eyebrow as she regarded the young man. Not bothering to correct him --she may as well change her name to ‘Professor’ at this point-- she appraised young Dirk Cresswell with cool eyes and concern in her heart. The boy looked like he’d seen a ghost, frequently by the dark circles still bruising his eyes after all this time. 

Returning his stammered greeting with a nod, she shut her book around her thumb and said, “Mister Cresswell, you’ll find it easier to navigate this world if you watch where you’re going.” Humor lit in her eyes, and Minerva softened her expression with a smile. 

Alastor, of course, had told her about the boy’s unfortunate find on the night of the Wizarding Statute. It broke her heart that such a gentle soul had to see something so gruesome. Enough time had passed for the world to forget the role he played in finding those bodies, but how could anyone expect him to? 

Motioning to the seat across from hers, she offered, “Sit, Dirk. Madam Rosmerta promised me more deserts than I could possibly eat on my own.” Her smile was barely a twitch at the corners of her mouth, the warmth of it burning more in her eyes than through the upturn of her lips. “I could use the company.”

[tabbycatmcgonagall]

Guilty Pleasures | Open

It’d been a harrowing week. N.E.W.T.s were just around the bend and everyone was feeling the pressure. The only benefit to the amount of homework and studying that reigned supreme through the ancient castle of late was the fact that if everyone was worried about their grades, they were too preoccupied to concern themselves with everything beyond Hogwarts’ protected grounds. 

She was starved for silver lining these days, but damn it all to hell, she would transfigure some if she had to. 

Rubbing tired hands and the tension stiff in her neck, she rolled her head one way, then the other, hardly paying attention as she strode the familiar cobbled path between the lovely masonry of the familiar buildings. Not entirely certain if she wanted to be seen on her private stroll, she wended through the back alleys to her destination. 

The scent of spiced meats and fresh bread spilled into the night. A beam of orange light cutting across the dark alleyway and painted a long streak over stonework as the kitchen’s heat combated the night’s chill. She welcomed the smell and the din of chatter with a deep inhale before stepping over the Three Broomsticks’ back entrance. 

Rosmerta’s reprimanding eyebrow raise was met with Minerva’s very own ice cold stare and the contest ended in a draw when the curl at the corner of Ros’ mouth made her own lips mutiny. Drinks and food were promised, and Minerva thanked her friend with a squeeze to her hand before finding her usual booth empty. 

Muttered thanks was offered to the girl that set down her drink as Minerva removed the book from her pocket and thumbed it open to the dogeared page. A sigh eased out of her, maybe not content in sound, but glad to be away from her office, the classroom, and the school itself. Even if it was just for a few hours. 

Reading the last lines of the swashbuckling protagonist’s rogue rescue of his captured damsel, she settled into her booth, nursed her wine, and tried to enjoy the soul soothing warmth of the Broomsticks’ interior. It couldn’t last. It never did. But if she could make it through the hero’s daring rescue then maybe she could tally it in the ‘win’ column.

[flawlessbeautyqueens]

Natalie Portman photographed by Pamela Hanson for Harper’s Bazaar UK (2019)

[lilysjmes]

“When you get older, you realize it’s a lot less about your place in the world but your place in you. It’s not how everyone views you, but how you view yourself.”

[wandlores]

@hpminorcharnet get to know the members challenge: favorite minor characters - minerva mcgonagall - zelle @hpminorcharnet creation event: house pride - week one: gryffindor 

“don’t tell me what i can and can’t do, potter.” 

[anywayfuckjkr]

minerva mcgonagall - as if one of them could have stunned minerva mcgonagall face-on by daylight!

[herhmione]

harry witnessed professor mcgonagall walking right past peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, “it unscrews the other way.”