CXVI: Seeking Solace

CXVI: Seeking Solace

Quin opened his door. Looking out at Minerva, he took in her appearance and the waves of pain rolling off of her.

"Oh, love . . . smashed t' smithereens, is it, now? Come, come in." He took her arm and guided her into the foyer, where she began to weep. Seeing her face, her clothes, and then her hand, he said, "What have you done here? What has happened?"

Minerva's answer was lost in her choking sobs, and Quin took her into his arms and held her.

"Shh, shh, shh . . . just relax, there, love. You are safe. You are with me now. Just shh, shh, shh," he said in a soft voice. "No need to speak yet. Just come in here with me."

He led her to the sitting room and to the couch, easing her down, then crouching in front of her, trying to see her face, look at her eyes. He pushed back the hair that had straggled from its bun.

"Ah, love, you sit there a moment. I will be back soon. Just a minute." Minerva clutched his arms, sobbing still, and he kissed her forehead. "I will be back. I promise. Lie down here. It will only be a few minutes."

When he returned a few minutes later, Levitating a basin of warm water and carrying towels and a small bottle, she was lying on the sofa, just as he had left her.

"Had to make a quick telephone call, and I wanted to fetch a few things, as well," he said in a gentle voice. "You just stay right as you are. I will take care of everything."

Quin spoke to her lightly as he first washed her left hand, using a nonverbal spell to soothe the pain before extracting the thorn with another spell. The cut began to bleed again, and he told her that wasn't a bad thing, that it would help clean the wound. He dabbed it with a potion, then wrapped her hand with some gauze, saying he was no Mediwizard, but that should keep her for a while. He then banished the dirty water from the basin and called forth fresh warm water to fill it. He dipped a flannel into the water and began to bathe her face, then her right hand, speaking in low, crooning tones as he did so, and passing cooling, soothing charms over her as he washed her. Finally, he banished everything and sat on the edge of the sofa beside her.

"Better now, Minerva?" he asked.

She nodded and whispered, "Thank you."

"Do you feel up to talking about it now?"

"It was awful . . ." Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to speak, and she shut them tightly.

"Take your time," Quin said, holding her right hand between both of his. "Was it Albus?"

Minerva nodded.

Quin hesitated, then said in a questioning tone, "He didn't hurt you – I mean physically . . ."

Minerva shook her head vehemently, her head aching as she did. "No, he wouldn't, never –"

"I couldn't imagine such a thing," Quin said, "but you were a right mess . . . and your heart is in smithereens, I could feel that as clear as anythin', even before I opened me door and saw you . . . 'twas just rollin' off you. And still is."

Minerva let out a shuddering sigh and didn't open her eyes, but she held Quin's hand close to her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he answered. "Don't worry about it at all. Just tell me whatever you wish to."

"He . . . I was a fool, such a fool . . . it is so embarrassing. I thought he felt the same, or was coming to, and I – oh, gods, Quin, it was awful!" Tears rolled down her face again.

Quin lifted her and held her against him until eventually her tears subsided.

"I had been upset with him, you see. He had admonished me for not informing anyone I wasn't going to be returning to the castle. He behaved . . . as though he were someone else, someone whom I did not know. And so I stayed in yesterday, in my rooms. I just felt terrible, and I couldn't face seeing him, or anyone else. Today, he came to find me when I was late to lunch. He apologised for what he had said. We were talking. Some of the things he said, he was so warm and sincere, Quin, it was lovely. And when he saw that I was upset, he held me." Minerva sighed against Quin's chest before she continued. "I thought . . . I kissed his cheek. And when I looked at him, I thought I saw something in his eyes, an affection for me . . . then he kissed my cheek. It was just a little kiss, Quin, and I don't know why I made it more than I did, but . . . I kissed him. I mean that I really kissed him." She choked slightly. "It seemed all right at first, I thought he was returning my kiss, and the way he touched me . . . but then he was suddenly across the room, and I have never seen a more horrified look on a man's face. He apologised. He said he hadn't intended it. And then, oh, gods, Quin! It was terrible!"

"What? What did he do?" Quin asked, aghast.

"He said it was just propinquity. Mere propinquity and a physical response. And he left. I tried to stop him, but he wasn't listening. I looked for him everywhere, in his office, in his suite . . . I couldn't find him. Then he sent me a note, apologising again, saying once more that he never would have done such a thing, that he didn't intend it, that I was like a grandchild in his care, and that nothing like that would ever happen again. And he said that his feelings for me were unrelated to his physical response. It was dreadful, just dreadful, Quin! I made a fool out of myself, and now he is blaming himself rather than me, though what he must think of me, throwing myself at him like that, I can only imagine."

"I am sorry, Minerva . . . I had hoped . . . I had hoped that he felt more than that," Quin said. "But how did you come to be in such a state? With a thorn embedded so deeply in your hand, and so dishevelled?"

"After I received his note, I just couldn't bear the thought of staying there one more moment, so I left my rooms and the castle, and I ran out in my Animagus form. That was, perhaps, even more foolish than my behaviour with Albus. I ran out into the Forbidden Forest, which is called that for very good reasons. I ran and paid no attention to where I was. Somehow, I got the thorn in my paw as I ran, but I kept going. It was as though I had gone mad, Quin, and no longer knew myself. Finally, I stopped, just . . . stopped. In the middle of the Forest, and I lay down. I was dozing when two centaurs came upon me. I pretended to be asleep still, until they moved away, but they were still there, watching, so I didn't transform then, but waited until I left the Forest. I jumped over the wall. By then, the thorn was driven well into my paw pad, and when I Transfigured myself back into my ordinary form, I think it worked its way in even deeper." She pulled back out of his arms and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Quin. I shouldn't have come here, burdened you, but I didn't know where else. I have my wand, but no money. I couldn't imagine going to my parents', the questions they would ask . . . I thought of you, and I Apparated here. I could go, get a room somewhere, if you could loan me a little money until I can get to Gringotts –"

"Don't even think such a thing. You are stayin' here until you are ready to go home, either to your parents' or to Hogwarts. The kids are still with Ella – I telephoned to let her know I would not be there for dinner tonight – and Mrs Manning only comes a couple times a week when the children aren't stayin' with me. And don't even think to be sayin' anythin' about bein' a trouble to me! You are no such thing, Minerva. Now," he said, waving his hand as if calling someone into the room, "you stay right here for now. D'you need anythin' at the moment?" A blanket flew in through the open door. Spreading it over her, Quin said, "You just curl up here and rest. You know where the loo is, if you need it. I'll be back in a bit."

"Thank you, Quin," Minerva said, looking up at him gratefully.

"Ah, I'm happy to have you here, Minerva." He bent and kissed her forehead before leaving and gently closing the door behind him.

Forty-five minutes later, he reentered the sitting room to find Minerva asleep. He settled the large tray on the coffee table, then knelt beside her. He looked at her a moment, then caressed her cheek and called her name. Minerva's eyes fluttered open to see Quin's smiling face. She smiled slightly in return.

"Mmm, something smells good," she said, stretching and realising that she hadn't eaten in hours.

"Some soup, some o' me famous scones, butter, and hot tea," Quin answered.

"I am hungry, actually. Didn't think I would be," Minerva said, sitting up.

"There's more soup in the kitchen, so if you want more, just say the word."

In short order, Minerva had eaten a bowl of soup and three scones. Quin poured her a second cup of tea.

"Would you like more soup?" he asked.

"No, thank you. That was fine," Minerva said, sitting back.

"When did you last eat? If you haven't been leavin' your rooms . . ."

"My house-elf – my Hogwarts elf – brought me meals. I had a good breakfast this morning. That was at about five o'clock, though, and I never made it to lunch, of course, so it has been a while since I ate. And entering my Animagus form takes energy."

"I haven't a house-elf, but consider me your personal servant while you are here, Minerva," Quin said with a smile. "No missed meals under this roof!"

Minerva smiled slightly and nodded. She felt somewhat better after having rested and eaten, but she ached, her throat felt raw, and her head hurt, but worst of all was the pain that seemed to centre on her heart, but that inhabited her entirely. She had lost Albus. Lost him completely. Whatever he said about friendship, she couldn't imagine being able to look him in the eye again. She would have to, though. She was a Hogwarts teacher and Head of Gryffindor. She could not completely avoid him, though she did think that she could avoid being alone with him, at least for a while. And eventually, they would become more comfortable with each other and she would lose some of her sense of humiliation. But they would never be able to return to the friendship they had before. Minerva wished that they had never reconciled after he had overheard her complaining to Poppy. At the time, she hadn't believed that she could feel any worse than she had then; now she knew better. She grimaced.

"Minerva?" Quin asked, looking at her with concern. "Are you all right? That's a foolish question, I'm sorry . . ."

"No, thank you. I'm fine – well, as fine as I could be, given my humiliation and my . . . loss."

"You know, Minerva, I've been thinkin' about that. If he cares for you, and he's attracted to you, it seems to me that he might come to fall in love with you. Maybe 'tisn't as bleak as it seems to you," Quin suggested.

Minerva shook her head. "No, it is. He said it was just propinquity, it was like a . . . a reflex, and it had nothing to do with his feelings for me. He was horrified, Quin. And I can understand why," she said, her voice breaking, "if he sees me as a granddaughter." Tears began to trickle down her face again.

"But you aren't his granddaughter –" Quin began.

"That makes no difference. Do you think I am so naive that I believe that a man only . . . that he has to feel something in order to . . . oh, I don't want to think about it," Minerva said, closing her eyes.

"Perhaps you are right," Quin said. "I am sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, encouragin' you in your feelin's, and now, you're hurt more than before."

Minerva shook her head. "It might be better this way. To know now. To get it out, not to harbour false hopes for years to come." She didn't sound convinced by her own words, though, and when Quin put an arm around her shoulders, she leaned against him and sighed. "It's never easy to be rejected, but to have it from him, to have him so . . . repulsed."

Minerva buried her head against Quin's chest and took comfort from his embrace. As he stroked her back, she began to relax, and her tears dried.

"You have a headache, love?" Quin asked.

She nodded, and she felt Quin kiss her forehead, and the cooling spell wash over her face, drying her tears, calming her, and alleviating her headache, much as he had that night in her room at the Gamps, when he had first learned of her love of an unattainable wizard.

"I'll fetch you a Headache Potion now, or some aspirin, if you prefer," he offered.

Minerva shook her head and clung to him. "No, don't go, not yet. It's a bit better now."

Quin nodded and leaned back, holding her. He began to remove her hairpins, sending them over to the table, one at a time. "There, that should help a little, too," he said, running his hands through her hair, then smoothing it. "You really did get yourself into a state. Do you know you have a shiner?"

"A shiner?" Minerva asked.

"A black eye, not bad, but still . . . when I saw that, and the blood on you, I was worried. I did what I could for it when I washed your face, but I'm afraid that me Healin' skills are minimal, just what I need with two active kids and no more."

"I ache all over," Minerva said, turning slightly in his arms and touching her left eye. "I notice it now that you mention it, but . . . it must have been when I was running through the wood, there was a lot of underbrush."

"A nice hot bath might be in order, then. Some good bath salts in the water. That will help."

Minerva nodded, but said, "Not right now, though. Later."

The room was beginning to grow dark, and Quin waved a hand to light a lamp. Minerva turned her face from the light, into his chest, and he dimmed it slightly. She sighed, relaxing as he resumed rubbing her back reassuringly. Her hand crept up to his shoulder, and she played with the ends of his hair. His hand stilled its stroking.

"I think it might be time for that bath now, love," he said softly. "I'll go get everythin' ready for you, and find a robe for you, and some pyjamas to Transfigure. Some Headache Potion, too."

"No, please, Quin. Don't leave . . . I just. I feel so empty now." She felt him nod, and she relaxed again.

She was beginning to relax and fall asleep, and she felt him shift, as if to rise, and her hand grasped his shoulder reflexively.

"Thought you were asleep, I did," Quin said softly. "I was just goin' to run that bath for you. I'll be back."

Minerva raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him. "Thank you, Quin. You are very good to me."

He stroked her face, brushing her hair back. "'Tis an easy thing with you, Minerva."

Minerva kissed his jaw, then kissed it again, then his cheek, then his mouth. Quin touched her cheek and eased her back away from him before kissing her forehead gently.

"You're not after wantin' that, love," he said very softly.

"But you care for me . . ." Minerva said.

"O' course I do. You know it," he answered.

"You don't find me attractive?"

Quin took in a deep breath and let it out, looking at the ceiling. "I wouldn't like t' lie to you, Minerva. You are a very attractive witch, and you know I find you so."

Minerva turned her face from him, tears springing into her eyes.

"Shush, shush, no need for more tears," Quin said gently, pulling her back to rest on his chest. "But I know you have hurt in you, Minerva, or you would never think to . . . you wouldn't think o' me and how I might find you."

"So, you say you care for me, and you find me attractive, but you don't want me," Minerva said bitterly. "It must be my lucky day."

"Ah, don't say that, Minerva! Not like that. 'Tisn't fair to either of us."

"I'm sorry. I'm just a fool. A fool with two wizards in one day. Lovely."

"That you are not," Quin answered. "Not at all. And me feelin's aren't as separate from me desires as they may have been in the other wizard today. But it doesn't change anythin' between us. I'm goin' up and drawin' your bath. I'll come for you when everythin's ready for you."

Twenty minutes later Quin was back.

"Your bath is ready, and I left a robe and some pyjamas and a few other things in the bathroom. Feel free to Transfigure anythin' as you need to." He held out his hand and helped Minerva to stand. "I'll show you where it is, and you'll be in the same bedroom as before, so I hope you'll be comfortable tonight."

"I'm sure I will be," Minerva answered.

He had put lavender scented bath salts in the water, and the room was comfortably warm. After he showed her where he had set the nightclothes for her, Quin left, saying as he closed the door that he would be nearby, and to call out if she needed him. Minerva undressed, getting a good look at her clothes as she did so. A few cleaning charms, and they would be fine to wear the next day, but she must have been quite a sight when she landed on Quin's doorstep, she thought, particularly after catching a glimpse of her "shiner" in the mirror. No wonder he had asked if Albus had hurt her physically. Albus would never do such a thing, of course. Breaking her heart was an entirely different matter. Minerva sighed and tried to keep herself from crying again. There was a vial of Headache Potion sitting beside the sink next to a clean hairbrush. She downed the Headache Potion then climbed into the bathtub.

For the next twenty minutes, Minerva did her best not to think. She relaxed, then she washed, then she relaxed again, but finally she washed her hair, rinsed it, then stepped out of the tub. She wrapped a large towel around her, then using her wand, she dried her hair before brushing it out. She removed the wet bandage from her left hand. The potion had been a good one, and her hand was well on its way to healing, though it was still sore and the injury not yet fully closed. She shrugged and ignored it.

A Transfiguration charm, and the pyjamas became a suitable nightgown, but she did nothing to the dressing gown, pulling the oversized robe on and wrapping it close around her. Quin had also brought her a pair of socks, which she Transfigured into a pair of light slippers, tears coming to her eyes when she remembered how Albus had Transfigured his socks into slippers for her. She still had the slippers in her wardrobe, not wanting to part with them.

Minerva opened the door and stepped into the hall, calling Quin's name. He stepped out of the bedroom just beside the bathroom, himself dressed in pyjamas and dressing gown.

Smiling, he said, "You look a sight better. How do you feel?"

Minerva tried to return his smile. "I feel better. Cleaner. Less achey. And my headache is gone. Thank you for the potion."

"Good, and you're welcome. Your bedroom is this way, you may remember. I brought your hairpins up and put them on the nightstand, and there's an extra blanket, too. Do you think you'll be wantin' anythin' else?" He asked as he opened the door to the guest room. "Somethin' to read? No, didn't think so."

"Some company?" Minerva said hopefully.

"We can sit in the library for a bit, if you like," Quin suggested.

Minerva nodded, and he led the way to the library, down the hall and around a corner. Like the dining room below, it had large windows that looked out on the courtyard garden, and French doors opened onto a narrow balcony. He waved the doors open.

"Would you care to sit here?" he asked.

"This would be nice, thank you," Minerva said.

"I'd suggest a glass o' wine, but I think its medicinal value would be outweighed by its negative effects on your headache, particularly after the potion. But tomorrow, if you like, we could have our lunch here," Quin suggested as they sat.

"I should be gone tomorrow," Minerva said. "I can go to Gringotts in the morning, get some money, find someplace to stay."

"If that is what you would like, Minerva, but you are truly welcome here. I have rearranged me schedule. I am free tomorrow, and Friday, too, if you need me."

Minerva sniffled and wiped her eyes. "What you must think of me, Quin, breaking down in tears at the slightest thing. But it means a lot to me. Thank you."

"'Tis me own pleasure, love," he answered, taking her hand. "And I think you have had a very hard day, that is what I think."

"It wasn't just today. It was the accumulation of everything. I already felt emotional before Albus even came to see me. If I hadn't been so, so . . . so vulnerable just then, I never would have kissed him as I did. But I thought, it seemed to me, I thought he kissed me, too." She shook her head. "If he had only just, just moved away, or pulled back, but . . . no, he leapt from me as though he had been bitten."

"Odd, it is, that you couldn't find him after," Quin said thoughtfully. "Where d'you think he went to?"

Minerva sighed. "I haven't a clue. I think if he'd just made himself invisible, I might still have felt him near, but I was so upset, I might not have. I could scarcely tell where I was and what I was doing, after all."

"Made his self invisible? You mean Disillusioned his self?"

"No, he can become invisible. I don't know how, except I think it might be some kind of perceptual trick, acting on the perceptions of those around him rather than on his own body, as is the case with a Disillusionment Charm."

"Really? Huh . . . heard tell of such a thing, but thought it an exaggeration," Quin said.

"I never thought it possible until I saw him do it myself. I don't know how commonly known that is, so perhaps –"

"An' who would I tell? Me good friend Franky Flint?" Quin asked with a grin. "It might help him move up in the Department of Mysteries, after all!"

Minerva smiled slightly at that. "Did you see him yesterday?"

Quin shook his head. "I did not. Can't say I missed seein' him, either! But I did me business there, though it may be moot now, but . . . 'twas a painless visit, relatively speakin'."

Minerva yawned.

"Bedtime?" Quin asked. "Come, let me tuck you in, then I'll bring you somethin' nice to drink."

Quin left her at her bedroom, promising to be back in a few minutes, and, good to his word, he was, carrying two steaming mugs.

"Horlicks," he pronounced. "Nice Muggle drink I make me kids," he said as he handed her a cup and sat down at the end of the bed.

Minerva hadn't had it before, so she sipped it cautiously. It was a bit sweet, but nice, and she finished the foamy, milky drink, then leaned back against her pillows. Quin finished his, put the mug down on the nightstand, and pulled the covers up around her a bit more. He caressed her brow briefly.

"I hope you'll be sleepin' well, love. If anythin' bothers you in the night, wake me. You know where I'll be."

Minerva took his hand. "Please, don't go just yet. I – I feel so . . ."

Quin sighed and sat back down beside her. "It will be better, Minerva. Give it some time. You will feel better."

Minerva nodded, but she couldn't imagine this bleak emptiness ever disappearing, and as he moved to stand, she caught at his arm. "Please, don't leave. Please."

She caressed his arm and moved to pull him closer, her other hand at the side of his face.

"Don't, Minerva," Quin said, and she turned her face from him. Taking a deep breath, he moved closer again and held her. "I will stay, if you like. I won't leave you. But I'm just stayin', if you take me meanin'."

She nodded. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Quin kissed the top of her head, then as she relaxed, he moved the covers aside, took off his dressing gown, and lay down beside her. She rolled over and lay against him.

"Better now?" he asked.

Minerva nodded again. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

Minerva was quiet for a moment, then she said, "You needn't stay. I . . . I am embarrassed . . . I shouldn't have –"

"It's fine, Minerva, though if you'd prefer me to leave, I will," Quin said.

"No," she said softly. "I'd rather you stayed."

"Kick me out if I snore or such," Quin said, making a gesture to darken lamps.

Minerva let out a short laugh and put an arm around him. "Good night, Quin."

"Good night, love."

Minerva woke a few times in the night, reassured by Quin's presence beside her, and when she finally woke again in the early morning, she gazed at him as he slept, his face relaxed, looking young and boyish. His lips were slightly parted and his breathing light. Minerva remembered what Malcolm had said, with a flick of his little finger, that she could just "tip him right over," if she wished. She didn't wish, she hadn't wished . . . but he was a good man, a good friend, and certainly an attractive wizard, just as Malcolm had described him. She smiled slightly, thinking of the description, "pretty, but rugged." He was that. Minerva remembered the kiss he gave her on the balcony of the Gamps. He said that he had been out of practice, but it had been very nice. She had felt odd about it afterward because of her feelings for Albus. And although she had not admitted it to herself at the time, even then she had had hopes that Albus might someday return her feelings. But now, that hope was gone entirely. Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she blinked them away, reaching out and touching Quin's cheek lightly, not waking him, simply making contact with him and his warmth. His magic thrummed lightly beneath her fingertips, strong, but far from the strength of Albus's.

Minerva closed her eyes. She had to stop thinking about Albus, measuring her life by her relationship to him, measuring others by their similarity or dissimilarity to him. She opened her eyes again. Quin had changed his plans for her, and this wasn't the first time. She caressed his cheek once more, and this time, his eyes opened. He blinked.

"Minerva. Mm. Good morning," he said sleepily, stretching slightly.

She smiled at him. "Good morning, Quin. Sleep well?"

He nodded. "And you?"

She tilted her head noncommittally. "Fine. I woke up a few times, but I slept better than I had expected to."

"I, um, need to get up," Quin said.

"Yes, of course," Minerva replied.

He rolled away from her and Summoned his dressing gown from where it lay on the floor, where it had fallen the night before. He swung his legs around and quickly wrapped the robe around him.

"I'm just goin' to go down the hall, use me own bathroom. I'll make us some breakfast, if you would like to meet me in the kitchen in a few minutes," he said as he opened the door and turned his head to look at her.

Minerva nodded, trying not to smile. She had a feeling she knew what had prompted his rapid departure from the bed, and she doubted it was simply a full bladder. "I'll see you in a little while, then."

She got up herself and went into the small bathroom just off the bedroom. She emerged a few minutes later and looked at her robes. She had neglected to clean them up the night before, and in the daylight, she saw more dirt and bloodstains than she had noticed earlier. She must have presented a frightening appearance, dirty, bloody, black-eye, hair a mess. Quin had been so good to her. Minerva waved her wand a few times, cleaning the robes, then she dressed.

When she walked into the kitchen, she found Quin pouring coffee and the porridge stirring on the porridge.

"Good morning again, love! Coffee? Or I can make you tea. No trouble at all," Quin offered.

Minerva hesitated. "I'll try some coffee."

Quin quirked a smile. "'Tis no trouble to make you a pot o' tea, Minerva."

"No, I think coffee would make a nice change this morning. And I could use the caffeine."

"Still sleepy?" Quin asked, handing her a cup of coffee and sending the small pitcher of cream over.

"Not exactly. But I feel as though I have cotton wool in my head instead of brains," Minerva said, sitting down. "And I still ache." She looked down at her hand and grimaced. "And I should have asked you for something for this after my bath."

Quin came over, bent, and looked at her left palm. His brow knit in reaction to the scabbed-over wound and the hot, red area around it. "I shoulda thought of it, brought you more potion." He looked up at her. "I'm sorry."

"It didn't look this bad last night. I thought it would be all right."

Quin clucked. "It would be healed up today if I'd done better," he said, gesturing and Summoning the potion bottle into the kitchen. He put more potion on the wound and watched as it fizzed. "Just keep an eye on it, Minerva. I'll put more on again later. If you think it needs coverin' –"

"No, I think it will be fine." The redness had faded, and much of the soreness was gone already. "I'll just be careful of it."

They ate their breakfast in near silence, Minerva trying hard to keep her emotions under control. They seemed to affect Quin when they were strong, and she didn't want to burden him more than she already was.

"So, what would you be doing today if you weren't baby-sitting me?" Minerva asked lightly.

Quin shrugged. "Usually, I'm in me office in the City, or I'm visitin' a business or lookin' in on me investments. Today, though, I was goin' to Switzerland."

Minerva's eyebrows rose. "Switzerland?"

Quin nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

"You cancelled a trip to Switzerland to stay here?"

Quin shrugged. "I do business there. 'Twas somethin' new this time, though, lookin' into a chocolate company to partner with, but I have others there who can represent me interests. And if this opportunity doesn't work out, there will be another."

"Oh, Quin! You shouldn't have! I could have taken care of myself, found a room somewhere, I would have been fine. Can you still go?"

Quin shook his head, smiling. "I cannot. I have a houseguest, a good friend who needs to be in a warm, homey setting, not in a cold, impersonal room somewhere, dwellin' on her troubles alone."

Minerva felt a bit of cheer enter her with Quin's warm smile. "Thank you, Quin. I do appreciate your company. And to be honest, I don't want to be alone. But I can't face anyone else just yet, either."

"You needn't. Not yet, anyway, but later today – ah-ah! – later today, we will go out. You need something more than that one set of robes. And shopping is supposed to be a cure for many a witch's ills."

Minerva laughed. "I've never been much of a shopper, actually, Quin, and I can't put you out another night."

"I don't see that you put me out at all, Minerva, for all I didn't sleep in me own bed," Quin said with a grin. "And even if you went elsewhere, you'd want somethin' else to wear tomorrow."

"I don't know," Minerva said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed again. "I could just Transfigure something. I don't want to have to see people yet."

Quin sat back and looked at her a moment, then he nodded. "As you wish, Minerva."

After Minerva had helped him clean up the kitchen from breakfast, she followed him up to the library.

"Thought you might like to read a bit, Minerva. And I do have a little work I could do. I'll just fetch it from me study and join you."

Minerva ran a finger along the spines of a row of books. Nothing caught her eye. She sighed. It was good of him to try to cheer her up, but she doubted she could read. Still, she found an old book of myths and legends, nicely illustrated, and settled down on the couch with it. She might just be able to concentrate enough to read this, or to pretend to.

A few minutes later, Quin returned, several thick files with him. "I don't have everythin' I need here, so don't be alarmed when the doorbell rings. Someone will be comin' by from me office shortly with a box."

"I shouldn't keep you from your work –"

"You're doin' no such thing, Minerva. This is all catch up I'm doin' here, and I wouldn't have normally got to it till next week, so everythin's fine."

Minerva turned the pages of her book mechanically, her eyes drifting over the words but not really reading them. Quin got up twice, once to answer the telephone and once to answer the door, returning with a box of papers. Finally, Minerva stopped pretending to read, and just reclined on the couch and watched Quin at work, reading, jotting things down, casting the occasional spell, which Minerva didn't recognise, and generally the very picture of relaxed concentration. When he had finished with one stack of papers and apparently signed them, he leaned back and stretched, then looked over at her. He smiled, eyes bright.

"Ready for a change, Minerva?"

Minerva shrugged one shoulder. "I couldn't concentrate."

"I didn't think I was that fascinatin', normally," he said with a grin.

Minerva blushed slightly. "You didn't seem to notice."

"'Tis difficult not to notice when you are watchin' me, Minerva. To have your undivided attention, rather nice, actually," he said.

Minerva normally would have asked him about the spells he was using when he worked, but her curiosity had ebbed quickly.

"Chess?" he suggested.

Minerva swallowed, a wave of grief passing over her, and she shook her head. She didn't know if she could play chess again. Only one game with Albus, and there would never be a rematch now.

"I'm sorry, love. I've reminded you of your sadness again," Quin said with a sigh.

"It's all right. I'm just being silly. But I don't think I could concentrate, anyway." To her embarrassment, tears began to trickle down her face again.

Quin got up and came over to her; he knelt beside her and dabbed her tears with his handkerchief.

"You will feel better, though, love. You won't always feel this way," he said.

"You know this?" Minerva asked.

He hesitated. "I know that you are resilient. And I know that I cannot bear to see you unhappy as you are. So I hope you don't allow this event and these feelings to rule your life."

"Why not? The other event, my magical accident, my feelings for Albus, they ruled my life for years. This might do the same," Minerva said dully.

"It didn't control you utterly, though. It may have felt like it occasionally, and I am not minimising the effect it had on you, but you went on and had a career and a successful apprenticeship. You can still have your life, Minerva, and it can be a good life." Quin paused, weighing his words. "And I'm still thinkin, though you may not want to hear it now, that Albus may come around. 'Tis true that a wizard can have a physical reaction and be quite attracted to a witch without bein' in love with her, but I can assure you that there are witches – and I'm not talkin' ugly ones – who could do all manner o' things to try to attract me and I wouldn't feel even a smidgen o' desire for them. Valerianna Yaxley, for all she has a nice figure and isn't a hag, she could do the dance o' the seven veils, and it would disgust me. Albus does care for you very much, and he's attracted to you – perhaps it was a surprise to him. Perhaps if he knew that you were attracted to him too –"

"And how could he not know that now, Quin? I wish he didn't . . . he must think me some sex-starved harlot, throwing myself at him as I did," Minerva said, her voice breaking. "He was appalled."

"At his self, his own behaviour, Minerva –"

"Mine, Quin, my behaviour. His reaction, but my behaviour." Minerva closed her eyes, trying to keep from crying again.

Quin sat on the edge of the couch and put his arms around Minerva. "Then he is a fool, Minerva. Completely. If a wizard were lucky enough . . . he is a fool."

Minerva, still trying to control her tears, and fearing that if she spoke, she would lose her composure again, just shook her head. But as she relaxed against Quin, she remembered his words from the previous evening, "Me feelin's aren't as separate from me desires as they may have been in the other wizard today. But it doesn't change anythin' between us." He cared for her, and it seemed he was attracted to her. Or had he just been being kind? He was a sweet wizard, a good friend, he could have simply been saying that to make her feel better, because he didn't want her to feel the way she did, unlovable, unattractive, desperate . . .

She nestled her head against his shoulder and sighed. She couldn't think anymore. She just want to be. And she didn't want to feel, or she only wanted to feel something good, something comforting, and so she concentrated on the sensation of Quin's warm, broad chest against her, his arms around her, his pulse, his breath on her hair, and she began to relax. With just a nudge and the weight of her body, she lay back and brought him to lie beside her. It was warm and comfortable.

"This is nice," she whispered.

"It is," Quin replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He shifted slightly, though, just turning a bit out of her embrace, but still leaving her to rest her head against him.

Minerva tilted her head to look up at him. His eyes were half-closed, but he was looking at her.

"Are you uncomfortable, Quin?"

"I am fine. Just fine. Tryin' not to get too comfortable, is all," he said with a wry grin.

"Why? Do you have more work you need to do?"

"Best for me not to, that's all, love," he said softly. "Don't want t' forget that I am here for you."

"And I appreciate that . . . very much," Minerva whispered. She reached up with her left hand and gently caressed his face.

Quin cleared his throat. "So how is the hand?" He took it in his own and held it out to look at it. "It looks better. But I'll put more potion on it at lunch."

Minerva nodded. "It's just a little sore now."

Quin gently rubbed the healing wound with his thumb. "Does that hurt?"

Minerva shook her head. "Not really. Not as it would have yesterday, or even earlier this morning."

"That is good, then," Quin said, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it gently. Minerva felt a similar cooling sensation that she felt when he dried her tears with a kiss, and she smiled.

"And that is good, too," Quin added. "T' see you smile."

Minerva stretched a bit and kissed his cheek. She paused, then she said, very softly, "I wish . . . I wish my kisses were more welcome."

Quin blushed. "Your kisses are, I am sure, welcome. I just think you should reserve them."

Minerva felt her grief renewed, and she looked away. "Reserve them . . . for whom? I must seem quite pitiful to you."

"Not pitiful, Minerva, not at all. Sorrowful, and beautiful, but not at all pitiful," Quin said quietly.

"Is it really so horrendous, to be kissed by me?" she asked, looking back at him, rising up slightly on one elbow.

"Minerva . . ." Quin sighed, closing his eyes.

Minerva raised her hand to his face again, tracing the line of his cheek and his jaw, then the bow of his lips. "Malcolm was right," she said huskily, "you are both pretty and rugged. I would say handsome and attractive, though."

Quin didn't respond, but he did not stop her, either.

"Would it be so bad if I were to kiss you, like this . . . and like this . . ." she said, kissing his cheeks. "Or even like this?" she asked, and she kissed his lips lightly, first once, then twice more.

Quin lifted his hand to her face and opened his eyes. "You don't want that, love. You don't . . . if you did . . ."

Minerva bent her head and kissed his lips again. "Kiss me, Quin, kiss me . . ."

He held her there a moment, looking at her, his fingers carded through her hair, and then he drew her down and kissed her gently on the lips, just once before pulling her head down to rest beside his.

"We cannot do this, love. I cannot. 'Tisn't right for me to take advantage of your pain and your broken heart."

"You aren't!"

"But I would be . . . and I love you too much to do that to you, Minerva."

Minerva turned her head away, and she felt her tears returning.

"See now, love? Your emotions are all too close t' the surface, they are. You aren't yourself," Quin said.

Minerva nodded. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I think I will just go take a nap before lunch, if you don't mind."

"O' course not. I'll come and call you for lunch. I thought fish might be nice, so if you don't mind bein' alone a while, I'll run to the fishmonger."

Minerva nodded. "That's fine." She didn't really want to be alone, not at all, but she was too embarrassed by Quin's rejection, as kind as it had been, to hold him there.

She got up and left the library without looking Quin in the face again.

"Minerva," Quin called out behind her. She stopped just outside the door. "If I were Albus, things would have been different yesterday. So don't mistake me meanin' and feel worse. Please."

Minerva nodded. "I just need a nap," she said, not responding to what he said.

"I will fetch you for lunch."

Minerva went back to the blue and yellow bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She toed off her shoes, then lay back. Sighing, she got back up and took off her robe. Her nightgown was in the little bathroom still, but she didn't want to bother with it, so she climbed into bed as she was. She was drowsy, actually, though she doubted she would sleep, and she had a headache from all of the tears she had shed, but she didn't want to bother Quin for another potion.

She thought that she was becoming quite spoiled at Hogwarts, having Blampa take care of all of her daily needs for her, making her bed, taking care of the laundry, picking up after her, bringing her Headache Potions and meals at all hours. She wondered if Hogwarts staff gave their house-elves presents. Clothes would be out of the question, of course, even though a mere member of the staff didn't have the power to free a house-elf, it would be quite insulting to offer an article of clothing to one. Minerva knew that her mother gave the McGonagall elves gifts each Christmas, but she had no idea what they might be. House-elves had peculiar values, and they were obscure to Minerva. She should ask someone who might know, like Albus . . . a lump rose in her throat. No, not Albus.

Minerva rolled over and hugged a pillow to her, determined not to cry, but neither did she rest. By the time Quin knocked on the door an hour later, her headache was much worse. She rolled over.

"Come in." Her voice came out in a hoarse croak.

"Minerva?" Quin opened the door a crack and looked in. "Are you all right?" Seeing that she was in bed, the sheet pulled up around her, he came in, setting a package down on the end of the bed. "You don't sound well." He felt her forehead.

"I'm not sick," Minerva said, clearing her throat, "but I do have a terrible headache. Is there lunch already?"

"Not yet. I just got back. But I brought you somethin'. You can look at it later. First, let's take care of that headache. You're all knotted up and tense, and congested from your tears."

He began to gently rub her head, putting more pressure on different spots, and then he moved to her neck and shoulders. A few spots were so tender, Minerva hissed sharply in reaction as Quin massaged them, but then as the muscles relaxed, she did, as well. Her nose began to run, and Quin Summoned a large handkerchief for her.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much. I still have a headache, but it's not nearly as bad," Minerva answered.

"Good. If you still have a headache after lunch, I'll fetch you some potion – unless you'd like it now?" When Minerva shook her head, Quin continued, "Then I'll give you your present." He reached behind himself and picked up the package he had left at the foot of the bed.

Minerva sat up and began to unwrap it. "Robes?"

Quid stood and said, "Nothin' fancy. Just somethin' to cover yourself and so you don't have to wear the same clothes tomorrow as you did today. There's a nightgown, slippers, and dressing gown there, too. Just plain off-the-rack stuff, but I think everythin' will fit you, and if not, you're talented with Transfiguration. I, um, didn't know what to do about underthings . . . I hope you don't mind."

"Thank you, Quin. This is very nice."

Minerva looked at the day robes, which were on top. They were a pretty pale green with a pale yellow under robe that was meant to show beneath it. They were not precisely what she would have chosen for herself, but they were fine. The nightgown, though, was something else. She thought she would be too warm in it. It was flannel, with long sleeves and a high neckline. Minerva couldn't imagine what shop would be selling winter nightgowns in the middle of August. But a Transfiguration would fix it. She could make it into a light batiste and lower the neckline. It would be fine. The dressing gown, on the other hand, was gorgeous; silk, cool and soft, in a rich emerald green, a diamond design woven through the fabric, with wide, floaty sleeves, and a special wand pocket. Minerva smiled.

"I love the dressing gown, Quin. I'll enjoy wearing that even later." She looked up at him, smiling.

"Good, I'm glad. I'm off to make lunch now. Got a nice piece o' cod. Hope there's nothin' you can't eat . . . I'm after makin' one o' me mother's recipes. I hope you'll enjoy it."