Harry Potter oneshots

Mar sin leat

"Do you think she'll mind?"

Harry shook his head, slowly pushing the door open, leading his wife and his two best friends into the cottage. 

"I don't think so."

They stood for a moment as a group in the hall. The smell of parchment, old books, and ginger newts made its way to them and they breathed in, quietly savouring the comforting smell.

"Here, how about I make us some tea."

This time it was Ginny who led the way into the kitchen. Reaching for her wand she stopped when a hand found its way gently onto hers.

"Please don't."

Hermione smiled gently at her as she released her wand again.

"She doesn't use magic for tea, there's a kettle over there."

Nodding, Ginny took the kettle and filled it from the tap as her husband found cups and her brother took the teabags out of the cupboard. Hermione nodded quietly and left the room.

"you might want to make some more, it looks like the others are arriving."

She nods and fills the kettle as much as she dares. Harry is right, outside the window a trail of people in black robes make their way up the path.

Making her way upstairs Hermione lets her fingers trail over familiar grooves on the wooden banister. She steps to the left on the one creaking step that always annoyed her. Turning left at the top of the stairs she enters the only other room on the landing, twisting the handle she enters.

The smell of parchment and old books is stronger here. As it should be. She greets each of the shelves silently as she makes her way through the magically extended room. A personal library. The quiet hum of magic is still there, she had half expected it to be gone, but then the library would be too. Why should it really? Powerful magic lasts, even when the caster is absent.

There's a large window at the end, it opens out on a beautiful view of the rolling hills of the Scottish highlands. In the grasses not too far away she can see deer grazing peacefully, and a pheasant pushes through the tall grass beside them. The light outside is dimming, hitting that gorgeous time of day where everything seems cast in gold, how fitting. 

She sits in an old armchair, and from a small oak table she picks up the book she left there last time, gently caressing its old leather, the indents of its title where the paint has worn over years. Beside the now empty space where her book sat there sits another one. Its deep red cover with gold lettering encloses the emerald coloured bookmark nestled within its pages. A pair of glasses sits on top. She picks them up, exchanging them for her own. It takes a minute for the lenses to adjust themselves to their new owner, having gotten used to their previous owner but when they do, she leans back.

Opposite her, in the armchair that twins with the one she occupies herself, it almost seems like someone is still there, the presence so strong. 

"Why are you up here Miss. Granger, can't you hear the people arriving? You really should be around your friends."

She smiles. The Scottish voice is so familiar to her now.

"I just wanted one more minute with you."

A slow nod, spectacled eyes observing her calmly.

"Is that ok? Can I stay here for a little longer? I don't think I'm ready to leave just yet."

Another slow nod. A small but warm smile.

"Take as much time as you need dear."

The emerald clad witch opens her book, an action which Hermione copies. Two cups of tea are on the table and Hermione picks up the one that's still warm. She avoids the other, the steam long gone from that one. A half eaten ginger newt sits next to it, she avoids that too. 

Removing her own bookmark, she tucks the emerald piece of card into the back of her book, and sinks into the chair to read.

It's not until the light has almost completely disappeared from the outside, only some streaks of red still lighting the horizon, that she hears another's footsteps. A hand tucks a strand of hair gently behind her ear as the owner of the hand waits till she is ready to look up from her page.

Ron stands there, watching her and she leans her head into his caress for a moment before she slowly untucks herself from her position, standing, book still in hand.

"Everyone's gone, they all send their love."

He offers his hand and she takes it, lacing their fingers together.

"Flitwick and Sprout reckon she'll be running rings around Dumbledore and Snape in a game of poker right now. Apparently that was their thing. Ginny reckons she'll still be shouting at them both."

Hermione laughs softly, gripping her husband's hand a little tighter.

"Are you ready?"

She nods quietly, allowing him to lead her out of the library but before the shelves can close of her view of the window she looks back one last time.

Minerva McGonagall look back at her, emerald robes making her presence known against the brown leather of the chair she sits on, glasses perched on her nose, a cup of steaming tea beside her, and a small plate with ginger newts on it accompanying it. She smiles at her Hermione as though saying 'I'll be here when you next visit' and Hermione silently makes a promise to come and update her soon.

She lets Ron guide her out of the room a small smile playing on her lips. Minerva McGonagall didn't retire to a cottage in the highlands just to argue with stubborn men when she left the living planes. 

No, Hermione knew exactly what she was doing now. 

As the door to the library closes she whispers under her breath so that Ron won't hear her.

"Goodbye Minerva."

An

Watching Maggie Smith and her portrayal of her various character was such a wonderful influence on me, I used to hunt for more movies to watch just because she was in them. Her death is such a loss and I wanted to write something in honour of that.

Rest in peace Maggie Smith