Chapter Text
1960.
“I cannot believe you are bringing this argument to me yet again.”
“Oh! So am I supposed to stay silent? Is that it?” Minerva put both hands on Albus Dumbledore’s desk and leaned forward. Her eyes were fixed on his. He remained impassive. His expressionless face made her furious. “Am I really just a pretty trophy to you?”
“Minerva—”
“I am not a— a thing that you can show off. We’re supposed to support and complement each other— this is ridiculous!”
“I did not think it relevant.” He replied, calmly, “You were there, you were allowed to be part of this dinner, just like the rest of us. It’s better to be cautious and you know that very well—“
“Caution” she interrupted “is very different from what happened tonight.” His eyes narrowed, yet his voice remained calm and clear when he spoke again.
“You were a guest.” He reminded her, “Surely you must know by now that the people I’m acquainted with are known be too quick to judge. It was just for one night, I could never have predicted—“
“Predicted!” She straightened and clapped her hands together over her chest while simultaneously letting out a clearly sarcastic, chilling, airy laugh. Magic irradiated from her, buzzing through the air.
Albus didn’t want to admit it, not aloud nor to himself, but a slight shiver went up his spine. He looked right into Minerva’s eyes, which were now ignited with cold fury.
“Why is it that everything has to be calculated?” The woman hissed. Her hands still clasped together, her posture being sly and her gaze rather dangerous. “Even I have to be predicted, examined, as if I were another one of your… projects! It rather seems I’m too dimwitted to comprehend that I’m but another one of your pawns; just another tiny little piece of this grand puzzle that you can easily manipulate, and that you very much enjoy watching over.”
Albus did not dare to speak. He stared up at her, still sitting at his desk.
“Perhaps you enjoy watching me with a tad more affection than the other pawns” Minerva paused and looked straight into his eyes again. “but I’m still just that. A pawn.” Though a deep anger was still burning inside her, a small tear showed around the corner of one of her eyes. A knot formed in Albus’s throat. This was not what he expected when he figured an argument was coming his way.
“Minerva…” the headmaster stood up, not quite knowing what he should say next, but willing to try regardless. She, however, backed away almost immediately. Her guard seemed to crumble. She let out an angry sniff.
“And to think…” Minerva unclasped her hands and slowly wrapped them around her thin frame, hugging herself. “to think I rather believed we could raise a family together.”
She whispered that last word shakily, in a uncharacteristically quiet voice. Albus shuddered. He was used to her screaming, her demanding voice, her thundering fury, her blazing anger. Seeing her crumble disturbed him.
“Are you really fit to be there for anyone else, other than yourself?” She continued. He offered no reply. Albus felt her pain, he saw it clearly through her glassy green eyes. Minerva sniffed again “I’m not sure if I want to keep being part of this… this charade.” She almost choked while delivering that last sentence, and with that she turned on her heels and stormed out, blasting his office’s door open without a word. Tears were burning in her eyes now, and she let them flow as soon as she was out of his office.
The headmaster remained standing, looking at the room with a mixture of hurt and bitterness. It was dark and cold inside; it had been snowing heavily throughout the day.
He let out a deep sigh.
Albus mentally kicked himself for being outright cold towards Minerva whilst being in other people’s presence, and for letting his meticulous plans always guide him, rather than his present feelings. How could he not? How could he not show caution and muster up restraint when his wife’s job and reputation were at stake? Of course he wanted a family, he wanted her to be happy, but the time was not right… they had to wait.
He let out another sigh and looked at Fawkes. The bird glared at him, gave a brief and musical yet disapproving cry and disappeared with a flaming “pop”. Albus huffed. When it came to their rows, his phoenix always chose one side or the other. More often than not Minerva was his clear favorite, which usually annoyed him, but this time around, Albus was privately glad that he had chosen to accompany her instead of him.
—
Minerva thought about packing at least some of her possessions before leaving; however, once her tears had dried anger was building way too intensely within her once more, and she did not want to risk catching even the slightest glimpse of her husband. She did not fancy explaining the origin of “mysterious” injuries on the headmaster to Poppy yet again.
It was far more than clear: distance was needed between the pair of them. She scribbled a short “do not follow me, I’ll be back in a few days” on a small piece of parchment and left it in his chambers, in a place where she knew he would see it. Then, after one last glance and a soft pat to Fawkes, who had accompanied her all the way down from Albus’s office, to their private quarters and then out into the grounds, she immediately left the castle and headed for her own Hogsmeade cottage. It wasn’t as far away from Hogwarts as she would have liked at the moment, but it would have to do. After all, even when she and Albus had been more than mere colleagues for over twenty years, Minerva still pretended to live alone, as a spinster in a little cottage near the school.
There had been a time when Minerva thought she could have beared anything as long as she was by Albus Dumbledore’s side; the man who cared for her, who loved her, and who supposedly always knew best. Now however, after twenty years into their marriage, she was starting to feel deprived of her own free will, and that did not sit too well with her.
Minerva McGonagall was not particularly submissive, she was a quite formidable and independent woman, with admirable resilience and strength; yet love had knocked on her door one day, just like it usually did to almost every human being at least once in their lives, and she had given in. She had let this man sweep her off her feet and put her perfectly reasonable world upside down. And, in all honesty, she could not say she disliked the sudden change in her routine. She loved him, after all.
Albus wasn’t really a bad husband. He was an incredible man; a very decent, heartwarming, lovely man; yet he was flawed. Minerva knew him at his darkest moments, and she believed after all these years she finally understood how twisted his mind and his plans could be.
“I cannot keep living like this.” She muttered to herself while striding through the thick snow, pondering introspectively into her own life.
Minerva kept walking for a few minutes, getting progressively near her and Albus’s second home. Once her cottage was within sight she noticed something… rather peculiar.
There was a small bundle laying at the foot of her doorstep.
She frowned.
“What in the heavens!” Minerva exclaimed when she got closer to the front door and had a clearer view of what the bundle actually was. A baby, not older than a month, was there, outside, in the cold, wrapped in some thin and ragged blankets, sleeping within the confinements of a basket. Minerva quickly picked the bundle up and entered the cottage, casting a warming charm once inside. She glanced down at the basket and pressed a thin, long hand gently against the infant’s cheek. He was freezing.
“Who would— How— Why?!” She exclaimed aloud while carefully placing the child out of the basket and on her sofa. She proceeded to gently unwrap him and transfigure his dirty ragged blankets into fluffy warm ones, so he could be more comfortable. The baby cooed softly and barely opened his eyes.
Minerva stared at him blankly.
After a few moments of wondering and staring while waiting for the baby to warm up, she looked around, searching for something that would indicate the baby’s origins. She finally found a tiny letter crumpled inside the basket. She unfolded it while sitting back next to the baby and began to read.
Minerva,
You are my last resort… I have tried so hard to keep my son with me, but it’s impossible. Please, I beg you, take care of my boy. I have no idea what to do, my husband is a danger to him, and considering my current state I realize that I am a danger to him too. I can’t keep him. I can’t drag him down with me, to live in pain, and in misery. Please, Minerva, for all that’s holy to you, I know you can give him a proper life, you are a good woman… He’ll be safe with you… Please do it for me, for our old forsaken friendship. I beg you.
His name is Severus.
-Eileen.
Minerva let out a shaky sigh as she lowered the letter, and once again looked down at the creature next to her. She slowly picked him up. The baby was snoring softly now.
She couldn’t bring herself to say or do anything, she just held him and stared down at him while feelings of confusion, worry and a tingle that rather resembled fear flooded her. After a while, the baby quite unexpectedly clung to her and smiled in his sleep, oblivious to what had just happened to him, and apparently comfortable with the ability of being able to snuggle to the warm and comforting body that held him.
Minerva’s eyes suddenly filled with tears as she watched him. She held him even closer to her and looked out of one of her cottage’s windows. Snow was starting to fall again, and the wind seemed to whistle even stronger than earlier.
What was she to do now?