Multi-Fandom One Shots

I'd Wait Forever (Minerva McGonagall)

You'd spent your entire life believing in magic. You'd been taken in by every fantasy novel and you'd come to understand the multiple rules of multiple universe's magic. You were quite possibly the most open-minded muggle in the world. But you were so young. Barely 25, you'd barely lived. You were just figuring yourself out. 

That's how you met her. She'd only visited your community garden a few times and was only just making it a routine when you'd dropped the seed to a rare flower. Appalled at yourself and terrified at the prospect of risking floral extinction, you dropped to your knees and searched the ground. The small, white bead would have been easy to find under usual circumstances, but there were pebbles all over a fucking garden. You moved your head to look under a table of potted plants and found a cluster of white, tiny balled beads. You crawled beneath the metal and picked up one white ball and tossed it over your shoulder. It was too smooth. You heard the small rock hit the bottom of the table before landing on the ground again. You were under that table long enough to be viewed as a lunatic. 

When you finally found the textured, veiny seed, you turned and, still on hands and knees, and crawled back out. Unfortunately, your head bumped into someone's legs. You looked up, deer in the headlights-esque. 

The woman you bumped into had a severe resting bitch face. She stared at your kneeling form with the stern expression of a firm teacher. 

Fortunately, she was gorgeous. With dark hair and shining green eyes, you were instantly enamored. You flushed, embarrassed, then laughed. "My apologies. Lost a seed." You helped yourself to stand and stayed beside the tall woman. 

She didn't speak for a moment. "Well, I was looking for trillium, but apparently, they're out of those."

"No, no!" you argued. You pulled that last packet of said herbs, the bag badly torn, from your pocket. You held up your discovered seed for show. "The bag wouldn't open easily so I had to use force. Of course, that always backfires." You turned exaggeratedly to find the trowel and you dropped the first seed, then all the rest left back in the bag. You fished the remaining seeds from your pocket. You placed them all in the same shovel. You presented them to her with a smile. 

The severe look on her face blinked away with a faint smile. 

You stood straighter, taking the win. "That's better." You smiled wider, entranced by the stoic woman's slowly melting walls. "Do you have a pot?" 

Green eyes moved to examine the table. You saw the recognition in her gaze and she reached for a red and gold painted plant pot. She showed it off a little dramatically and you fawned over it accordingly. 

Your finger traced down a gold lion you thought was painted well, but was actually an emblem. "This is amazing craftsmanship," you praised. 

The woman smiled. "Thank you. It's a loan from the school I work at. The lion is my house's mascot."

You smiled up at her abashedly. While her emerald orbs were beautiful, they were breath-taking when as dark as they were now. She was so much taller than you too and that was quite the view. "Would you rather plant the seeds alone or could you use a hand?" you offered. 

"I would appreciate the aid. I hardly exceeded expectations in Herbology." She was Scottish too, your secret weakness. Handing the pot over to you, you flushed when your fingers brushed. 

You set the pot on the table again. "Herbology? I've never heard botany classified like that." You laughed good-naturedly. 

That reminded the woman that you were a muggle. She had fallen for a muggle before and it ended poorly. She decided in that moment that she would be polite, but firm to deter the crush she could see coming on. Polite yet firm. She was used to that. Polite yet firm. It was her perpetual state. But then you introduced yourself, and you were so courteous. You clearly didn't want to crush on her anymore than she wanted you to. You held out your hand all the same. She took and stared at your naively young face. "Minerva McGonagall."

Minerva could've sworn your face glowed with the strength of every star in the cosmos. Oh, dear. 

But you were already turned back to the table, scooping dirt into the pot and planting a few. "So this trillium won't bloom until next spring. How many?" you asked, covering 3 seeds with the soil. 

"Can we fit two more? And that's alright. I won't need to brew anything with it for some time anyway."

You struck your finger in the soil and swirled it until you deemed it deep enough to toss a seed into. You did it again, babbling, "I've never heard of trillium in a tea. I added it to a stew once, or was that lily root? Well, either way, that's interesting. Is it to help with allergies or so?" 

Minerva scolded herself for not censoring her words. She was so used to others of her kind, both adolescent and grown that she didn't realize. You felt familiar too, like she had known you forever. 

"May-maybe I could, um, help. With- with the tending. Trillium's awful hard to get to stem. You st-staying around here?" you asked anxiously. "Since you're not... great with plants."

The teenage nervousness bemused Minerva and she nodded pleasantly. You looked relieved. She picked up the pot. "I'll send a letter," she bade, walking away. 

You frowned, though still hopeful. "You don't have my address!"

She just laughed mysteriously. 

The greenhouse door shut behind her and you turned back to the table, tending to your plants. Your eye caught a glitter from your peripheral. You faced the shine head-on and picked up another lion emblem. You raced after Minerva, ran out the glass doors, but Minerva was nowhere in sight. You slowly re-entered the greenhouse in the community garden. 

Miriam stood by your table, looking around. Her eye caught yours and she smiled. "Was there a tall, Scottish woman with a red pot around here? I was looking for the seeds she wanted." In her hand were 5 packs of Trillium seeds. 

You held up the torn pack. "I helped."

Miriam placed her palm on her forehead. "You know I love you, but would you please stop acting like you work here?!" she pleaded with you. 

You laughed manically, slowly stepping back and back until you could slip out the door. "Never!"

*

The evening had yet to end, hence you cooking dinner. You padded around the kitchen, humming under your breath. You bobbed your head or swayed to the classics playing exclusively for you. The tv in the living room turned on as you removed your pan from the stove top. The knob switched off behind you. The tv started playing what you sang. You spun to face it. Multiple emotions rose in you: wonder, of course, confusion, terror. Things like this happened to you and around you all the time. From the reactions of those around when this happened, not everyone experienced such unusual events. With the words being sung on tv, you felt free enough to sing them as well. 

A ticking on your window distracted you to examine it. An... owl stood on your window sill, a rope tying a rolled up piece of paper to its leg. It tapped its beak on the glass again then shook its leg. 

You slowly approached the window and unlatched it. The incredibly well-trained owl let himself in to perch on your kitchen counter. Slowly, you untied the string around its leg. The bird flew back out the window. You jolted at the sudden flap and movement. Unfolding the paper, you read the fancy handwriting. 

'It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance in the Greenhouse today . Would you be open to meeting again tomorrow, earlier? Say, 10? With understanding that you cannot reply, I will be there all day. In further understanding that you may not wish to entertain an old woman with company, I shall not be offended if you do not show. No upset feelings either way. 
Sincerely, 
                             Minerva McGonagall'

You smiled at the paper, slowly holding it to your chest. You swore to never make this woman wait.