Chapter Twenty-Eight

"I've done something stupid."

Damn!

Minerva swore as she bumped and pushed her way through the crowd.

Where is he?

She jostled a path across the street and back, surveying as well as she could among the seething mass of bodies that occupied Trafalgar Square. After a few minutes of being bumped, bruised, shouted at, and having her toes thoroughly trodden upon, she had to admit defeat.

Gone.

She had lost her quarry in the throng that had gathered spontaneously to celebrate the end of the Muggle war in Europe.

Minerva allowed herself a minute to catch her breath, standing among the singing, yelling, and weeping Muggles, shoulder to shoulder with them.

Two spots of colour rose on her cheeks; she was angry with herself for having allowed the wizard to get as far as Trafalgar Square in the first place. He had been easy to follow initially; a hog was an unusual sight on the streets of London, and a hog of his size was not so fast as to be able to outrun Minerva, but he had gone unexpectedly into an alley and then headed down Whitcomb Street, popping into human form as he turned into Pall Mall East and disappeared into the crowd, most of whom seemed to be pushing their way toward the square.

Minerva was already composing her memo to Auror McKinnon in her head when she was struck from behind and nearly fell off her feet.

"Blimey! I'm awfully sorry!"

Minerva turned to see a young man in uniform looking at her apologetically.

"Someone pushed me, and I bumped into you," he said.

She saw his eyes drop briefly down her body then quickly return to her face. She was about to be annoyed when she saw him blush. "That's quite all right," she said. "It's a bit crowded here."

"Isn't it?"

The crowd had pressed in on all sides, and there was no moving, at least for the moment.

"Looks like we're stuck here," the young solider said. His over-careful cadence made Minerva suspect he had been drinking.

"It would appear so." She didn't want to seem churlish, so she added, "Were you on the Continent? During the war?"

"I was with Monty at the Bulge," he replied. "Bloody freezing it was, too. Oh, sorry ..."

"It's all right," she replied, amused. She had no idea who "Monty" was nor what the soldier was referring to; she had had little opportunity to keep up with events of the Muggle war, save for those that might have an impact on whatever assignment she was working on. The young man was obviously proud of his service, so she said, "That must have been quite something."

"Oh, it was, believe you me. You should have seen those Panzers! When they shot off a shell, it was like the world was ending! And then the Yanks were firing back ... their Shermans didn't have the same firepower, but they got the job done in the end. They got those Rhine monkeys scrambling out of the burning tanks, hands in the air. It was a sight! I felt sorry for 'em though. Lots of 'em injured and most of 'em only wearing light uniforms. It's hot in a tank, see? So they didn't have coats."

"It sounds terrifying," said Minerva.

"A lot of it was. Anyway, it's all over now, thank God," he said, brightening.

As the crowd grew, and the singing and cheering rose, Minerva was surprised to feel a swell of happiness at their joy. Their war was now over, as was hers. She was alive, and Albus was alive, and these Muggles, they were all alive. There was reason enough to celebrate, wasn't there?

The young man was saying something to her, but she could no longer make out his words over the noise of the crowd.

She cupped her palm around her ear and shook her head to indicate that she couldn't hear him.

He leant down to her, and she said, "I can barely hear you, it's so crowded." She was anxious to get out of the throng and back to headquarters.

The soldier moved a bit closer and said, "Want to see if we can get through? I might be able to get you to the other side. It's a little less thick there."

"Yes, all right," she replied, nodding.

"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand.

She had to admit, the man's height made it easier for him to push through the crowd as she followed along behind.

They made their way through the mass of celebrants, and once they reached the far end of the square where there were fewer people, he didn't let go of her hand.

"Where are you headed?" he asked.

"Um, Lambeth."

"All right."

Minerva knew she should tell him, politely but firmly, that she would be fine on her own. She should remove her hand from his, thank him, and head off down the street until she could find a safe place from which to Apparate back to the Ministry.

But some of the giddiness of the crowd must have rubbed off on her, because she didn't want to do any of those things. She wanted to stay there with this lovely young man and let him hold her hand.

So she didn't protest when he led her down an alley off Charing Cross Road then stopped, turned to her, put his hands on her waist, and kissed her.

After a moment, she began to kiss back, winding her arms awkwardly around his neck. They stood that way for a minute, then he broke the kiss to look at her face. Whatever he saw there must have pleased him, because he grinned at her and began to kiss her with greater ardour, pulling her slightly closer. She responded in kind, allowing his tongue to part her lips, pressing hers into his mouth.

It felt strange to be standing there, kissing this clean-shaven young man. Strange and rather nice.

He broke the kiss again and moved her backward several steps until she was against the wall.

She saw two other couples in the alley, and it didn't take more than a glance to know what they were doing.

This is going to happen, she thought to herself and found to her surprise that she wanted it.

Then he was kissing her neck, and his hands were on her, and her arousal grew. Suddenly, the memory of Albus pressing up against her like this in the alley in Tewkesbury flooded her with the echoes of remembered desire.

She moved her hands down the soldier's back to rest on his arse, pulling him up against her, and he moaned. He reached down to find the hem of her skirt and began to pull it up, stopping to meet her eyes and whisper, "All right?"

"Yes," she answered and buried her face against his shoulder, clasping her arms around his back. She didn't want to look at him, attractive as he was. She just wanted to feel...to drown in sensation.

He grasped her right thigh as she hooked her leg around his hip. It took him a minute to unfasten his belt and fly and push her knickers aside.

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine she was back in Tewkesbury and that it was Albus taking her up against the cold stone wall. It felt good, and it had been so long ...

Gods, oh ... a little more ... please ...

Her concentration was broken when he started to murmur.

"Oh, yeah ... nice ... so nice ... that's it ... that's it ... yes ..."

Moving her head, she covered his mouth with hers to stop his words with her lips and tongue, and he kissed back eagerly, moaning into her mouth.

She concentrated on pure sensation, and when her climax came, she nearly sobbed with relief, clutching his shoulders to keep her footing as her knees threatened to buckle with the pleasure of it.

He grunted and let go of her leg, then sagged against her, breathing heavily.

After a few moments, he looked up at her and smiled. "That was very nice."

"Yes."

He leant in to kiss her sweetly, then quickly did up his belt and fly and tucked in his uniform shirt as Minerva re-adjusted her knickers and smoothed her skirt and hair.

She gave him a tight smile, then said, "I should be getting on."

"All right. I'll walk you."

"No, thanks, that's all right. Just see me to the end of the alley, and I'll be fine."

When they re-emerged on the street, he said, "I'd be pleased to walk you."

"Well, it's just that I'm meeting my dad, you see," she lied.

"Oh. Well ... cheers then, I guess."

As she turned to go, he said, "Wait! Um ... what's your name?"

"Miranda."

He gave her his lovely grin again. "I'm Alan. Well, ta, then, Miranda. Hope to see you again sometime."

"Keep well, Alan," she said, then headed off down the street, hoping he wasn't following.

As soon as she arrived at the Ministry, she ducked into the lavatory to clean herself up before she faced McKinnon, who ultimately gave her only a light dressing-down for losing her mark and sent her home.

Later that evening, she sat in front of the small fireplace, a tumbler of cheap Firewhisky in her hand.

The door opened, and Amelia bustled through it, red-cheeked and annoyed.

"It's madness out there! Couldn't find a safe place to Apparate from, so I took shank's mare. All the way from the Ministry! If you're pouring, I'll have one of those," she said, nodding at Minerva's drink.

She flopped down on the settee next to Minerva. She sighed as she took her first sip of the drink Minerva had handed her."Circe, but that's good. I've never been so glad to be on desk duty in my life. How did you make out with that Animagus git?"

"Lost him."

"Blast! Well, there's always another day." She raised her glass to Minerva.

"Indeed."

Eyeing Minerva as she drank, Amelia said, "You're awfully quiet. Are you just upset about losing the mark, or is there something else bothering you?"

Minerva hesitated. She wanted to tell Amelia about the soldier...she was tired of feeling as if she was hiding things from her best friend...but she wasn't even certain how she felt about the incident.

Finally, she said, "I've done something stupid."

"Minerva McGonagall? Say not so!" Amelia put a hand on her chest in exaggerated dismay.

"Well, I did."

She paused.

"So, are you going to tell me, or aren't you?" Amelia said.

Not quite looking at Amelia, Minerva told her the story of the Muggle soldier and what they had done. When she finished, she gave her friend a sidelong look.

Amelia didn't say anything, so Minerva asked, "Are you shocked?"

"Surprised. It certainly isn't like you."

"No," agreed Minerva. "It isn't."

"You've been under a lot of strain lately. I suppose it's understandable that you might do something a little reckless, now that things have calmed a bit," Amelia said thoughtfully. "Just, please ... tell me it wasn't your first time."

Minerva looked up at that. "No."

Amelia knew better than to press Minerva for any more information on that subject, so she only said, "That's good. And at least you don't have to worry about pregnancy."

The Ministry had insisted on having each of the three female Auror-trainees take a monthly contraceptive potion. The stated rationale was that pregnancy was incompatible with the dangerous nature of the work, but the unspoken reason was somewhat less benign. Everyone knew what befell women unlucky enough to fall into the hands of the small cadres of Dark wizards that skulked about the edges of wizarding society.

"You should really do something about disease, though, Minerva," Amelia said. "I don't know what kinds of things you could get from a Muggle, but if he's a soldier, you don't know what all he might have picked up."

Minerva made a moue of distaste. "I know. Stupid ..."

"Well, reckless, maybe, but hardly an earth-shattering trespass. You can pick up a couple of potions at an apothecary, although I'd recommend going somewhere out of town."

"Yes. I'm off on Saturday. I'll go to Manchester or somewhere. I'll have to look up what I need, though."

"The library at St Mungo's will have the right reference books, and they'll let you in if you're with the Ministry."

"Yes, good idea, thanks."

After a few moments, Amelia asked, "Did you enjoy it at least?"

Minerva was about to be indignant at the question, but she checked herself. This was Amelia, after all, and she herself had shared the story. "Um ... yes ... during. Afterwards, I just felt embarrassed."

"No reason to, really," Amelia said. "It's just sex, and as much as everyone pretends not to, almost everyone does it, or wants to. Including," she added with a wicked grin, "my mum and your dad."

"Merlin, Amelia, did you really need to share that?"

"No, not really," Amelia said gleefully. "But you know, we might end up sisters."

"Well, that's fine, but I really didn't need the image of ... well ... I didn't need to know that." After a moment, she couldn't help asking, "How do you know?"

"Simple deduction. They had a date on Saturday, and I didn't get my daily Floo call on Sunday. Or Monday, or today. So either Mum's too embarrassed to talk to me, or she's having too good a time. Here's hoping it's the latter," said Amelia, raising her nearly empty glass in salute.

"Hear, hear, I guess," said Minerva, weakly following suit.

"It seems I'm the only one not having any luck in that department," said Amelia after she had swallowed her whisky. "This wonky eye certainly isn't helping matters."

"Oh, Amelia," said Minerva, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

As far as everyone was concerned, Amelia Bones was adjusting beautifully to the loss of her left eye. Upon their return to England, she had been fitted with a magical replacement, and after two months of therapy and hard work, Amelia was able to see with it...the images, she said, were blurry and colours were off...but its appearance was odd. It was grey-blue, like her real eye, but it didn't sit in the socket; it was held against the surface of Amelia's face by a cup attached with straps that hooked around her ears. She and Minerva had tried a series of Sticking charms to try to eliminate the need for the unsightly straps but found that it constricted the movement of the eye too much. In the end, they had settled on Disillusioning the straps, but they were still noticeable on close inspection. Amelia had cut her previously chin-length hair to a very short cut so that it wouldn't catch on them.

She joked about the eye with almost everyone, but Minerva knew it bothered her. Amelia had argued and won the right to continue in her Auror training and worked like a dog to ensure the change in her vision didn't affect her accuracy in either casting or dodging spells; however, she had been removed from any active field duty and placed in the administration section of the Auror office. Her future with the Aurors was murky and uncertain.

To add insult to injury, she hadn't had a date since returning to England, to the best of Minerva's knowledge. Even the woman she had been seeing casually before their deployment the past summer seemed to have disappeared into the woodwork. It wasn't at all fair, thought Minerva. Amelia was beautiful...the eye notwithstanding...and brilliant, and a genuinely friendly and outgoing person; she should be swamped with admirers, at least among the smallish circle of lesbian witches in and around London that Minerva had become aware of.

Minerva, on the other hand, had been asked out more than a few times, and by some rather attractive fellows, but she had no desire for romance at the moment. Or at least, she had thought she didn't. The incident with the soldier made her question that. She had been numb...mostly by choice...since the night of the Ministry ball, but the experience of all those Muggles together...kissing, hugging, celebrating life...and the physical proximity of that young man had shaken something loose in her.

Despite what she had told Albus at their parting, she wasn't at all certain she could fall in love with anyone else. Her mind told her not to be silly, of course she could, but her heart said otherwise. But even if she couldn't love another man, it didn't mean she couldn't go out with them ... enjoy them, and yes, maybe even go to bed with them.

She was young and alive, and there was no reason not to enjoy being so. And if her heart still yearned for one Albus Dumbledore, so be it. He had apparently moved on, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

It was time for her to move on too.