Before she was Professor McGonagall, she was Minerva Macnair. After an arranged marriage forces her into an impossible situation, Minerva does what she must to survive. When she makes a new life for herself, her secrets follow and threaten everythin...
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"What is between us is just that. Between us."
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24 December 1962
When Alastor knocked at Minerva's door and received no answer, he began to worry. She might be anywhere in the castle or on the grounds, of course, but it was unlike her to be late or forget an engagement.
Now what?
He couldn't exactly go tramping around Hogwarts, asking, "Have you seen Professor McGonagall?" nor could he stand there like a prat outside the door to her quarters.
Maybe he should wait inside. Then, if her elf showed up, he could ask the fellow to find her; if not, he could use her owl to send a note to Dumbledore to ask if he knew where the Deputy Headmistress was. There might have been some school-related emergency that kept her from meeting him at the gates.
Alastor eyed her door appraisingly. Besides, he thought, it wouldn't hurt to test out how strong her wards were, would it? How angry could she get?
Plenty angry, if he knew Minerva.
Well, he decided, she can't stay angry. She'd invited him, after all, and then hadn't had the good grace to meet him when and where she'd said she would. She had to know he'd be worried. It was his stock-in-trade.
He withdrew his wand from its holster and gingerly teased out the enchantments that guarded her door.
Too bloody easy, he thought to himself as they disintegrated like wet tissue under his wand. Got to teach her some better protective spells.
He opened the door with a simple Alohomora and stepped in.
To say he was startled to see someone sitting at the far window across the room would be an understatement. He hadn't been expecting anyone to be there, so he reflexively whipped his wand forward and crouched into the classic defensive stance, crying, "Don't move!"
When she turned, and he saw that it was Minerva, he immediately lowered his wand.
