#mmad

[scarlettwriter91]

Chapter 13 has taken an unexpected turn and I need your guy's help to figure out what to do.

I can post early, probably this afternoon or in the morning at the latest, and you'll get a chapter that is quite a bit of fluff with the added bonus of "Snape has the flu and Harry helps take care of him." And the next chapter, likely next Wednesday, will get us back to our regularly scheduled drama, but won't involve the Draco plot.

Or, I can make this chapter incredibly long, post it on Friday, and then next week we will get back to Draco.

What do you think???

Also, have a sneak peak in which Harry threatens to sic McGonagall on Snape lol

"I do not need my thirteen-year-old son to play nurse maid, thank you very much." Harry glared. "I could always get Grandma." Snape narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't dare." "Try me."

[misscrimsondawn]

During a break between checking essays on transfiguration from 7th year students

Minerva was of course unhappy that they're distracted by each other

But Albus knew she liked their little mischief

[brunuhvielle]

Peaceful Evening, 1993

"Professor Dumbledore and I have managed to keep our relationship quiet for many years now. It would be... Unhelpful for it to come to light in such troubled times, Potter."

[kudgaret]

[snapeaddict]

A Christmas present for @mmad-lover ❤️

With hints about this piece

December 25th, 1969

Hogwarts was, quite literally, buried under snow – thick, pristine snow that shone gently where rays of candlelight passed through the castle’s windows, then vanished into the dark winter night. Inside, the few remaining students had gone back to their dorms, stomachs full and giggling, still, at Peeves’ latest prank. The poltergeist had made a dashing entrance during dinner with a good three dozen Christmas bubbles hanging from his ghostly fingers, toes, and ears. They had all been stolen from the Great Hall’s tree: it looked terribly bare as a result.

McGonagall had looked everything but pleased. Her nostrils had flared in a characteristic manner, her lips were tight - but just as she was about to say something, Dumbledore had started chuckling. Very quietly, at first, in an attempt to pass it off as a caught - he could see Minerva’s expression from the corner of his eye - then he had given in, the students had followed along, and Minerva’s face had relaxed too, eventually. She could never remain cross when Albus started laughing. 

“I reckon the view from your tower must be rather exceptional, Minerva – I need to go to the owlery to see the frozen lake. I saw a few deer walking over the ice two years ago, and have hoped to see them again ever since.”

Albus was standing next to his office’s tallest window, just beside his desk. As for Minerva, a frown was creasing her eyebrows, and she was sitting on a nearby couch. She was unknitting the bottom half of a sock the headmaster meant to gift Filius: the pattern had been slightly mishandled. Albus was, after all, a complete beginner; he had been teaching himself to knit for two weeks only.

“Do come by tomorrow for lunch, Albus. The lake is particularly beautiful at this time of day, and I believe it will be sunny.”

Albus turned away from the window. Her eyes were still fixed on the sock in her hand, and his gaze lingered on her face; she looked up, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“Where did you learn to knit so well?” he asked, picking up his coffee mug from the side of his desk. He sat down in front of her, nodding in the direction of the blue sock in her hand.

Minerva eyed him for a few seconds, then looked down and smiled.

“My mother. My brothers were not exactly sticklers for cleanliness. ‘Cho salach ris a’ pholl’, she used to say – as dirty as mud.”

“My own brother never wore socks”, Albus lamented.

“I see where your lacunas come from, then. Would you like me to show you where you made a mistake?”

“Do you promise to be patient?”

“I am always patient”, Minerva said drily, though she was grinning slightly. 

Albus raised an eyebrow. “Ah! I did not believe you to be disingenuous, my dear professor. Need I remind you of the waltz? The piano? The baking? The -”

“You almost burnt the castle down. And left your wand on the counter!”

“That is but a minor detail in the history of my many accomplishments.”

“What about my foot? My poor foot – the one who will restore it to its original size is not born yet.”

“What about my foot?” Albus retorted, though his outrage was slightly undermined by the lemon drop he was munching on.

“It was not supposed to be there in the first place, Albus. That is precisely the issue.”

The headmaster looked somewhat apologetic. 

“But I did progress, did I not?”

Minerva turned the sock over on her lap. She sighed affectionately.

“You did. I am rather proud, I must admit it - but you still cannot venture in public.”

“You make me blush, my dear.”

“Did you hear the second part of the sentence?”

“I am a great believer in selective hearing.”

Minerva graced this reply with another sigh, a bigger and rather ironic one. Then, unexpectedly, silence fell over the room, as if the usual pleasantries and bickering had overstayed their welcome. This had been happening more and more frequently as of late, and none of them could pinpoint the exact reason why.

Snow fell beside the window, disturbed in its route by strong gusts of wind that made it swirl continuously. Albus looked at it, and Minerva looked at him.

She was quiet for a short moment, looking as though she was considering her options. She opened her mouth tentatively, and closed it; then, finally, she moved over to her left. 

“Will you sit next to me, Albus?” she asked abruptly. “I will show you how to finish the Christmas tree pattern – you got confused halfway.”

Her tone was queer, an uneven mixture of confidence, teacherly strictness, and out-of-place timidity. Clearly, the result was not what she had expected, and the headmaster seemed to pick on it as well. He looked hesitant for a few seconds. 

“Certainly”, he replied at last, putting down his cup of coffee. 

He sat right next to her, and she handed him the sock and knitters, pointing to a small part of the knitting pattern.

“Like this, yes, exactly. Knit stitch, purl stitch, but you must not go all the way to the end of the row – yes, like this – be careful to keep the same number of stitches here – yes -”

Albus managed the end of the dark green row, but the following steps proved to be more complicated. Twice, he avoided miscounting rows thanks to Minerva’s expert eye; but his main difficulty was not losing track of which was the visible side of the sock, inevitably leading to inconsistencies.

“Here, Albus, let me help you. I just need -” 

Her hand touched Albus’, which had not been removed quickly enough. 

And here they were, these formidable wizards, eloquent speakers and charismatic professors, staring awkwardly at a sock, half on Albus' lap and half on hers; they looked perfectly stupid, and rather flushed.

Minerva cleared her throat. 

“You may start the next row.”

“Yes… yes… assuredly.”

But silence lingered, yet again.

“Now?” Minerva ventured, nudging towards the sock.

“Yes. Yes.”

And, in no more than three minutes, he finished the knitting with remarkable ease, as if possessed by some kind of yarn-adoring entity. Surprised, Minerva grew closer, nodding approvingly. Clearly, his problem had been with the practicalities of visible and invisible sides, and that mistake was behind him already.

“Why is it that the waltz still puzzles you when you have picked this up so quickly?” she exclaimed, bewildered. 

Albus turned the sock over, his eyes twinkling: he admired his work with unconcealed pride, and Minerva could not help but remark he looked genuinely prouder of this sock than of his many intellectual prowesses and historical achievements, for whatever reason. 

“You have been particularly patient with me tonight, Minerva”, he said serenely, relieved that his voice did not waver, especially when she blushed. “And I listened with the utmost attention. I am sure I will make a good waltzer if I am to take my next lesson in the same circumstances… so to speak.”

That, of course, was untrue. But after that evening, Minerva found that she could never muster the courage to tell him. Only one Severus Snape, years later, would have the courage to say it out-loud: Albus Dumbledore just had terrible coordination. 

[squibstress]

New fic.

[yayitsabi]

Just a thought...in the books, Albus mentions that he had heard of Trelawney's grandmother Cassandra...but what if he had actually met her...

What if she made a prophecy of about a war so terrible yet unavoidable at all costs.. about a war which could be only ended by a wizard with a heart so broken that he did not even trust himself... about a war of death and life which would change the world in a million ways.. about a phoenix rising from the ashes of long lost love..

What if the man who prepared himself to send a child of prophecy to war was himself a man of prophecy...

Fate is intangible..

[penguinparty88]

Albus: Good morning!

Minerva: Is it? Is it really?

[fruitandveggietango]

minewva mgonagl

[just-your-casual-nerd]

Us in the beginning @v3nusxsky I'm so glad we made the move. I love you ♥️

[6technotrendsetterstribe82blog]

[scarlettwriter91]

He's Waiting On The Other Side

I technically wrote this a few years ago, but I modified it a bit so that it fit within my As Potter is to Snape universe.

"We'll meet beyond the shore. We'll kiss just as before. Happy we'll be, beyond the sea. And never again, I'll go sailing."

Minerva McGonagall was no longer able to leave her bed. She simply lay there with the warmth of the heavy quilt draped across her, watching the sun begin to set from her bedroom window at Hogwarts.

She had turned one hundred years old in October, and as far as she was concerned, it was time. Time for her to leave behind all that she was and all that she had ever known. Time to take the journey to the other side and to all that awaited her there.

"It won't be long now." That is what Hannah Longbottom had said when she had last come to check up on her.

Minerva smiled. Sweet, quiet, Hannah Abbott had grown up to become a rather gifted healer, and much to Minerva's surprise had fallen in love with Neville Longbottom. When Poppy had passed some ten years ago, Hannah took over for her.

Everything was in order and exactly how it should be. Minerva had retired from Hogwarts, and her successor was doing an admirable job in her place. Her students, those children that she had put her heart and soul into, had all gone on to lives and careers of their own, taking a little piece of her with them as they did.

How many children had passed through her classes? How many had she kept over for tea and biscuits when they had needed someone to talk to? To confide in? How many lives had she had a part in shaping over her sixty-five years as a Professor and as Headmistress?

Minerva thought of them often and was proud of each and every one of them. Most sent her an owl from time to time, letting her know how they were doing and keeping her up-to-date on the latest happenings in their lives.

She turned her head towards the door that Hannah had left cracked open and she could hear the quiet sounds of her family in the living room. She had expected to never have children, and yet, somehow her home was filled with them.

The days they had adopted Severus and Remus were among the happiest of her long life, and to know they'd both grown into wonderful men with families of their own was icing on the cake.

They had hardly left her side over the last few weeks and it was only at Minerva's insistence that they were in the living room at all. Harry and Draco were also there with their families, who by now were growing up, soon to start families of their own. And Teddy! Well, he and Victoire were already expecting their third child!

Her gaze wandered to the rows and rows of shelves that lined her back wall. Instead of books, they were filled to the brim with photographs of her family. Pictures of her students and friends. Oliver Wood had sent her a picture of him and his team from when they won the Quidditch World Cup back in 2005 and she proudly showed it to everyone who came to visit!

Poppy was there. As was Hagrid, and Filius. They all waved at her happily from their frames. She missed them all, and couldn't wait to see them again.

And then there was Albus. His portrait wasn't on the shelves with the rest. Instead, it sat on her bedside table where she could easily reach for it. She did so now and slowly ran her fingers over the frame as she smiled down at him.

"Soon, my love," she whispered.

She thought of all the times they'd had together. The family they'd been given, and the life they had lived.

A tear slid down her cheek though she didn't bother to brush it away. It had been years since she had cried for her husband. Oh, she had missed him terribly and thought of him every day, but she did not often allow herself to grieve so openly for him. The years that they had shared together had been the very best of her life. Her only regret was one that was out of her control in the first place; that she would have gone first so that she wouldn't have to live a day without him.

She was ready to see him now. It was almost time.

Minerva could hear his joyous laughter and she could see the way his eyes lit up when he was happy. She could remember so perfectly the way that her hand fit in his. The way he would trace the back of her hand with his thumb as they sat together in the evenings to talk about their days.

Minerva had spent the majority of her life with Albus, but it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

He was waiting for her now, and she couldn't bear to make him wait any longer. She longed to be in his arms again. To have him hold her as he had before. He was there, just on the other side, waiting for her on that lovely, golden shore. She would get to him, and then her heart would be whole once more.

The sky grew darker as the pinks and purples turned to dusky twilight.

The sun set. Minerva McGonagall smiled, and then she was gone.

Only the light from the lamp by her bed illuminated the room now, casting shadows along the walls and on the pictures of her students. The pictures of her family.

She had wondered how many of their lives she had helped shape. She imagined the number was higher than she could ever fathom. Minerva McGonagall had been a major part of thousands of lives, and she would continue to be so. Those children were her legacy and they would take her wherever they went. They would tell her story.

Days later at her funeral, there wouldn't be room enough to hold all the people who came to pay their respects. The Great Hall would be filled and current and former students alike would need to stand outside on the grounds, their wands raised high to celebrate a life well-lived. A woman well-loved.

Barely a second had passed from the moment she took her last breath to now. Minerva was there, standing on a sandy beach. Her hair was no longer in a tight bun but instead flowed in waves down her back. Her hands were no longer wrinkled but smooth with youth. She looked up, and there he was.

[misscrimsondawn]

headcanon: walking in the rain

[brunuhvielle]

Malbus: my cast

Kate Middleton as Minerva & Tim Omundson as Albus

I can't get you back, but I can't turn away from you... Our love is a fact though I've tried to deny it, like you wanted me to.

[kudgaret]

first kiss

[squibstress]

HP Rec Fest - Day 20

Prompt: A fic rated G @hprecfest

I Pray You, Be Merry

Character: Pomona Sprout

Creator: too_dle_oo

Rating: K/G

Word Count: 2,996

Summary: Pomona never understood why everyone at Hogwarts was oblivious to the war going on around them.

Why You Should Check It Out:

A poignant snapshot of the war years and what it must have been like to be a girl trapped between two worlds, and a lovely story of how Pomona learned the quiet value of the world's "nice" people.

Once Burned

Pairing: Albus/Minerva

Creator: Alchemine

Rating: K/G

Word Count: 745

Summary: The Headmaster and his deputy meet just before dawn.

Why You Should Check It Out:

This very short fic (from 2002) is an atmospheric, bittersweet moment between Albus and Minerva after his hand is cursed. It's mini-portrait of a relationship from a late point of attack that hints at the difficulties and disappointments that would almost certainly plague any romance between these two characters.