Evermore

Chapter Fourteen: Wasting In My Lonely Tower

Christmas Eve had arrived, and Severus decided it was an opportune time to clean out his private chambers at Hogwarts, with special focus on his potion vials. Now that he was free of first-years and their incompetent potion skills—and he considered putting that lightly—he could do a deep clean upon them before the second term began. Perhaps, Severus reasoned, under his own tutelage for their next six and a half years of school, they could become adept enough at potion making to make Exceeds Expectations on their OWL's.

When Severus had just finished on the final row of vials, it was getting late in the afternoon. The sun had fallen from the sky and was just on the brink of the horizon, and a light snow had just begun to fall on the grounds outside. The fire was burning brightly in the hearth, just beside Severus, thus keeping the room plenty warm that cool Christmas Even, but it was the sudden spark from within it that caught him off-guard. Despite his years of spying, Severus had had to do no such thing in the near year that Voldemort had been killed, so, despite himself, he was a bit lax in keeping up with his surroundings.

"Severus."

Severus turned at the sound of Minerva's voice emitting from the hearth; he levitated the now-clean final vial into its proper place and made his way closer, seeing her face in the flames, and gave her a small smile. "Good evening, Minerva."

"Good evening, Severus," she said, smiling back at him. "I was wondering if you would join me in the headmaster's quarters for a light supper?"

Severus nodded. "Of course. Shall I come through now?"

"Yes. I've just sent the house-elves for the meal, and it should arrive shortly. Do come in," she said, and moved out of the way.

Severus stepped through the flames, straightening himself up on the other side, and casting a customary cleaning spell so as he did not reek of ash and soot. "To what to I owe the pleasure of such an invitation, Minerva?"

Minerva hesitated for a moment, before a table appeared in the center of the room as if by magic, with two chairs, and two plates, covered with silver tops. A smaller table appeared just beside the larger one, and Severus assumed that the covered dish upon it contained their pudding. "Why don't we sit down?" Minerva asked, and the pair of them crossed the room and took their seats across from one another. Minerva took off the dish cover upon her plate, revealing a beautiful chicken pot pie, and smiled at Severus's own roast dinner, for she knew how much it pleased him to have his favorite meal.

"Thank you, Minerva," Severus said softly.

"It is no trouble at all, Severus..." Minerva hesitated for a moment, before casting a silent warming charm on each of their meals, and her colleague raised his eyes to hers. "I confess, I didn't merely invite you up here for supper..."

Severus nodded, leaning back in his chair. "I suspected as much," he intoned, no hostility in his voice, and Minerva only detected contemplation. "To what do I owe the pleasure, then?" he asked for the second time that evening.

"Dougal McGregor," she said quietly.

Severus blinked, unaware of the name. "I'm sorry?"

She let out a little sigh then, and Severus detected some sadness associated with the name that his old friend had just coughed up. "He was my fiancé—for a day, mind you—when I was eighteen-years-old. I was in love with him, to put it bluntly," she went on, and Severus felt his eyebrows creeping upwards at that.

"What happened?" Severus asked.

"He was a farmer's son, a Muggle," Minerva explained, squaring her shoulders. "My mother married a Muggle, you see, and had to put her wand away and forget all about magic. My two younger brothers, Robert and Malcolm, were wizards; Robert was killed during the First Wizarding War," she put in softly. "Anyhow, Dougal and I... We were so happy. I'd graduated from Hogwarts, and had been offered a position at the ministry, and went home for a final summer with my family. That is how I met Dougal."