InsaneJournal

A certain space
Title: A certain space
Author: Woldy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Minerva McGonagall/Augusta Longbottom
Summary: Minerva assesses the damage & decides on her future.
Wordcount: 600
Notes: Written for antosha_c's wonderful prompt: "Things Shouldn't Be So Hard" by the US Poet Laureate, Kay Ryan. This fic is not beta-d, so I apologise for any mistakes.
Disclaimer: Not mine & not profiting.


Hogwarts is in ruins.

This is the way it should be, Minerva thinks, as she walks the halls cataloguing the damage. People are dead and many others scarred. Part of her believes there should remain a hole in the window evidencing Professor Snape's absence and a heap of rubble where Fred Weasley died. The damage is a memorial of sorts, proof that human lives change history as well as vice versa. It seems wrong to repair Hogwarts, but repairs are inevitable. Life must go on.

The years have taken their toll on Minerva, etching lines into her face, causing her flesh to sag and her body to weaken. She has given her life to this school, abandoned her closest relationships for the sake of propriety and 'setting a good example to students'.

Minerva cannot see why sharing a bed with Augusta Longbottom, or Amelia Bones, or Perpetua Fancourt, or indeed all three at once should preclude one from setting a good example, but the Board of Governors disagrees. At Hogwarts, torture is more acceptable than lesbianism.

"Minerva, are you all right?" Augusta calls from behind her.

"Thinking of all the work to be done," Minerva says briskly, banishing these sentimental thoughts and turning around.

"Well, stop that and come to dinner," Augusta orders, shooing her towards the Great Hall. "The repairs can wait."

"No time like the present," Minerva says, but knows she's beaten. Time is irresistible and mealtimes doubly so, even without the influence of a woman bossier than herself.

"There's talk of you being headmistress," Augusta says, in a tone of disapproval.

"You'd prefer someone else?"

"I'm certain you'd be extremely competent," Augusta replies bluntly, "but I think you've done more than enough. Retire and come to live with me."

"And why would I do that?" Minerva asks, halting in the doorway to the Great Hall.

There are still parents and students inside, all the people who are not ready or able to go home. She can see Augusta's grandson and the cluster of students who've been following him for months now, although their adulation seems to have been confirmed by his sword-wielding yesterday. The people inside the hall aren't watching, but they aren't ignoring the two of them either.

"I shall be alone when Neville leaves home," Augusta says, "it's time we lived for ourselves."

Augusta raises a hand to a hair that has escaped from Minerva's tight grey bun, brushing it away from her face. There is a distinct lull in conversation inside the hall.

Minerva thinks about the seemingly unalterable narrow-mindedness of the governors, about Severus and Albus who died alone and of how one is defined by one's choices. She recalls the Weasley twins, reflecting that there are lessons to be learnt from the young.

"Yes," Minerva decides, leaning closer, "I would like that very much."

It is chaste by the standards of kisses, but that is hardly the point. Besides, who wants to see old ladies behaving obscenely in public?

Silence ripples out from where their lips meet, an awkward prolonged quiet that is broken by a whoop and someone yelling "That's some sexy pussy!"

"Enough, Mr Finnegan!" Minerva calls sternly, but she can't stifle the smile.

Everyone is staring when they enter the hall, so Minerva steers Augusta to the teachers' table where people can stare at them with greater ease. This small act of courage is quieter than the yesterday's battle, but perhaps no less revolutionary for that. Slowly, a space might be carved out at Hogwarts for women like them. Perhaps a certain space, a tiny one, has already begun.