Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore sat on a bench at the train station, both waiting for her to arrive. The two watched in silence as it came to an easy stop and the door in the front train cart slid open. She cautiously stepped out and Dumbledore smiled and stood. Snape, on the other hand, remained seated.
“Minerva,” Dumbledore exclaimed, warmly.
“Albus!” she replied and embraced him.
“How was the ride?” asked Dumbledore.
“Very well,” McGonagall said and turned her head as the train whistled in departure. “I have so much to tell you about-” she stopped when she saw Snape sitting there, his eyes fixed on her. He finally stood and tears brimmed in both his eyes. McGonagall smiled warmly at him and hugged him. To her surprise, he returned it.
“Minerva, I’m so– so– sorry,” Snape choked.
“Severus, I understand,” McGonogall replied.
“Really?” he quickly, yet sloppily, wiped away his tears.
“Really.”
“I didn’t want to ever have to face you like that,” he whispered in her ear.
“Me neither,” she replied.
They broke apart and the three of them, as if having the same thought, began to walk out of the trainstation and onto fresh green grass that lay outside.
“How’s Hogwarts?” Dumbledore asked.
“Same as always,” McGonogall answered, “Severus, did you hear about the Potter boy?”
“What did he do this time?” Snape sneered.
“Not Potter himself, his son! Why, he named his son Albus Severus Potter!”
Snape stopped dead in his tracks.
“You didn’t tell him, Albus?” McGonogall turned to Dumbledore.
“Nearly Headless Nick had informed me, but I wasn’t with Severus at the time. It merely slipped my mind by the time I saw him again,” he replied.
She looked at Snape who stood there, expressionless. His cloak blew ever so gently in the wind and a small smile formed on his lips.
“Severus,” McGonogall called, “are you alright?”
He didn’t respond. His mind was reeling. He’d always thought Potter had loathed him. Actually, he hadn’t thought, he knew Potter never liked him. And then on the night of Nagini’s attack, he gave him his memories of Lily.
“His son is in Slytherin,” McGonagall went on, noticing Snape’s eyes starting to brim with tears all over again. “And he’s thriving.”
“Good,” Snape replied.
The trio reached a small village and McGonogall read the street sign: The Hogwarts Society.
“This is where we live,” Dumbledore informed her, “It's been here since Hogwarts first came to be and on October 31st, 1981, it became very well known by spirits.”
“It’s beautiful,” McGonogall said, admiring the cobblestone houses. She turned to look at Snape and Dumbledore. They walked down the little streets where a fiddle played a cheery tune, enchanted to float in the air.
“James and Lily Potter live there,” Dumbledore pointed at one of the two story cobblestone houses. McGonogall couldn’t help but glance at Snape as they passed and saw his eyes fixed on the buildings in front of them. After pointing out a few more houses, they stopped at one and Dumbledore turned his back to it.
“I live right there,” he said and indicated a small cottage. Through the window, she saw a half finished knitted scarf on a tiny round table next to a chair. “And Severus lives right next to me,” the blinds on the bigger cottage next to Dumbledore’s were open and potion bottles glittered in the sunlight on the windowsill. She smiled.
“And you,” Dumbledore continued, turning back to the house behind them, “live right here.
She looked at the dwelling that Dumbledore now gazed at and smiled. Etched on the Mailbox in front of it was M. McGonagall.
“Welcome home, Minerva,” Dumbledore said and both he and Snape placed their hands on her shoulders.
FIN