Resolving a Misunderstanding

Dinner wasn’t quite as bad as lunch had been – perhaps because Minerva was becoming used to Gertrude’s relatives – although there were a few more guests. The seating arrangement was different than it had been at lunch; Flint and Valerianna were seated on either side of Gropius Gamp, Gertrude’s aged father, and Minerva and Quin were seated toward the middle of the table, with two of the new-comers at the right and left of Madam Gamp. And unlike at lunch, there were children present, Alroy and Aine, Quin’s son and daughter, and a pale, silent, black-haired girl named Bella, who was about six, Minerva guessed. The toddlers were still being fed in the nursery, apparently, but the older ones were being allowed at the adult table. Alroy and Aine sat on either side of Quin, and Minerva sat between Alroy and Francis Flint.

Of course, it hadn’t been an entirely pleasant experience. Minerva and Quin scarcely had time to wash their hands before the second gong announced that dinner was imminent. Quin had changed into a pale yellow jacket for their walk in the garden and hadn’t made it upstairs to trade it for anything more suitable for dinner. Fortunately, Minerva was wearing the robe she had put on that morning, which was appropriate for the occasion – although she noticed that each of the other witches who had been at lunch was now wearing something different. Quin looked quite conspicuous, dressed in his casual Muggle clothes.

He and Minerva stood in the arched doorway of the dining room. Alroy and Aine had already found their places and were looking well-scrubbed and suitably attired in dress robes. Quin hesitated.

“What is it?” Minerva whispered.

“’Tis one thing to tweak these folk and quite another to embarrass me children. Alroy’s at the age where he wants to fit in more . . . I am becoming a constant source of embarrassment for him without even trying.”

“You could run up and throw on your dinner jacket – ” Minerva began.

“And have them all thinkin’ me an even greater boor than they already do by walking in late? Might be fun, but not tonight, I think . . . . You are la grande dame de la Metamorphosis; can’t you help me out?”

“All right,” she said, pulling him out into the great hallway. “But can’t you do it?”

“Hedge wizard, remember?” Quin responded with a grin. “Me trainin’ concentrated on building up me greatest strengths. I was rubbish at Transfiguration, so I didn’t spend much time at it.”

Minerva bit back her response. Who was she to criticise his schooling – or lack thereof – when he clearly was quite competent in his own way? More than competent, judging from his performance at lunch.

Minerva pulled her wand from the hidden pocket in her skirts, fumbling a bit to find it through the yards of material. She pointed it at Quin, and just as she was about to Transfigure his jacket, a plummy voice rang out behind her.

“So has he already tried your patience, poor darling? I wondered how long it would be before someone here hexed you, Cormac. . . . I must say, though, that I never expected it would be this . . . kitten, however.” Valerianna was coming down the broad staircase toward them, Flint on her arm and a smile on her face. Flint said nothing, only narrowing his eyes as he looked at Quin.

“Come, love, we do not wish to be late; it would be most rude,” she drawled to her escort, who didn’t seem to be dawdling.

“Come, love,” Quinn said to Minerva, “We do not wish to be rude, do we now?” He gave her a quick wink.

Minerva ignored the couple, and with a quick slashing motion, she altered his jacket into a fair facsimile of the one Quin had worn at lunch. He still didn’t look right, with his open-necked shirt and colourful scarf tucked around his neck. Another swish and flick and the shirt was now a crisp, white dress shirt with a stand-up winged collar and small pleats and shiny black buttons up the front; the scarf had become a narrow black bow tie. Quin’s trousers were black, so she did nothing to them, but his shoes were dusty and scuffed from their garden walk, so Minerva swished her wand and gave them a nice polish.

Despite Valerianna’s earlier words, she had paused in the archway and watched the younger witch performing the nonverbal spells, maintaining a firm grip on Flint’s elbow. When Minerva had finished, Valerianna said, sotto voce, as though whispering a secret between friends, “My, my, my! Dressing him already; you two are quite chummy . . . . Cormac, you young devil, will you have her reverse the process later?” She smiled brightly at them before dragging the hapless Flint into the dining room with her.

“I am sorry, Minerva,” said Quin, looking down at Minerva’s flushed face. “I have known them long enough, I should have anticipated that. I didn’t mean to put you in such an awkward position with them. I am sorry I embarrassed you.”

“You? You didn’t embarrass me – that nasty, dried-up, old witch just made me quite angry. I’d ‘reverse the process’ on her if it weren’t that Gertrude invited me here and I don’t want to put her in a difficult spot.” Minerva’s lips tightened. “Kitten, indeed!”

“Does she know you were in Gryffindor, then? Is that what they call you all? I hadn’t heard it before.”

“Oh, no doubt she knows that . . . and other things, as well. And no, you don’t call Gryffindors ‘kittens.’ Lions, perhaps, or possibly even cubs, if they are children. But not kittens.”

Whilst they had been talking, the last of the guests had taken their seats, so Minerva cut short her thoughts on Valerianna’s remarks, took Quin’s arm, and allowed him to escort her into dinner and hold her chair for her.

Minerva managed to ignore Flint’s presence on her left, concentrating her attention on Alroy and his father and chatting a bit with Ella Gamp, Quin’s mother-in-law, who sat across from her. Minerva could quite see why Ella had moved from the Gamp Estate to London. She was pleasant, for one. Short, slightly plump, dark grey hair streaked with white, Ella smiled with genuine warmth, and she clearly loved her grandchildren. Minerva learned that Quin maintained a townhouse in London and that, when he was there, the children stayed with him. He also had a country house in Ireland, which he actually called his home, but he travelled a great deal for business; when he would be away for longer stretches, the children stayed with his sister and her family in Ireland, but if it was just a short trip, their Grandmother Ella took them for a few days.

As she ate and chatted with Ella, Quin, and his son, Minerva became aware that Valerianna was watching her. She looked away whenever Minerva turned in her direction, but Minerva had no doubt that the woman was preoccupied with her. Ignoring the witch, Minerva tried to draw Bella, who was seated opposite Alroy, into the conversation, but only elicited one and two word responses from the girl. Perhaps she was too young to be included in an adult dinner, Minerva thought, trying to be charitable to the child. But it seemed that the girl felt slighted to have been seated across from Alroy and next to his grandmother – she was clearly listening to the discussion that her parents, Cygnus and Druella Black, were having with the guests on the other side of her.

Minerva remembered the young couple from school, although they had both been in Slytherin and a few years behind her. Druella had actually come to a few of the Transfiguration tutoring sessions Minerva had held during her seventh year. Druella had been a stuck-up child and what Minerva considered a typical Slytherin, but Minerva had welcomed any student as long as they behaved. She’d got rid of Tom Riddle when he’d shown up one evening, all swagger and sneer, though. Minerva thought he’d only been there in order to find out what was going on and try to stir up trouble; she hadn’t given him that opportunity. Minerva sighed, looking at the young dark-eyed girl; she was probably going to turn out to be as stuck up and Slytherin as her mother had been.

After dinner, which was mercifully shorter than lunch had been, consisting of only three courses, Minerva joined the other guests in the drawing room. Gertrude, good to her word, offered the whisky as an option for a postprandial drink, and, to Minerva’s surprise, a number of the guests were soon sipping her father’s thirty-five-year-old Muggle Scotch whisky. She noticed, however, that Quin was not one of them.

After exchanging banal small talk with Druella and Cygnus, who were as opinionated as always and, as always, with just as little reason supporting their opinions, Minerva made her way over to Gertrude, who had been casting a glance in her direction since dinner.

Gertrude smiled her tight little smile as Minerva approached. “I am sorry I haven’t spent more time with you, Minerva. I trust that Quin has not been too great a trial for you?”

“Don’t concern yourself with entertaining me, Gertrude; with a house full of guests, I surely don’t expect your undivided attention.” Minerva didn’t add that Gertrude’s undivided attention would also be quite unnerving. “But yes, Quin has been amusing me this afternoon.” A sly, almost Slytherin thought occurred to Minerva. Gertrude wasn’t the only one who could influence others. Minerva turned her head and gazed with open admiration at Quin, who was across the room talking with Pollux and Irma Black. “He’s so . . . amazing. Quin has been a godsend, Gertrude. He is so charming and gallant. And handsome.”

Minerva allowed a dreamy look to cross her face before she turned back to Gertie, who was wearing her usual neutral expression, but Minerva thought she detected a slight twitch. “Thank you so much, Gertrude, for sending him to me this afternoon! When he turned up at my bedroom door, I thought it would be you. I was a little disappointed at first, but then after I let him in, we had such a lovely afternoon. And, of course, he did take me on a walk through your gardens. He is so knowledgeable! After what Francis had called him at lunch, it rather surprised me.”

“Yes, he is quite knowledgeable about many things.” Gertrude took a sip of her whisky. “Did he mention he hadn’t been to school?”

“Yes, he did. That’s part of what makes him so marvellous, though, isn’t it?” Minerva turned back to look at Quin again. And he really did look handsome, if somewhat out-of-place in his completely Muggle attire – although the younger wizards were wearing trousers, they wore traditional dress robes over them – Quin’s eyes were sparkling as he recounted a story to the small group of witches who had gathered around him. At over six-feet tall, he towered above most of the witches, and his Transfigured Muggle dinner jacket emphasised his broad shoulders and fit body. When he smiled, he dimpled quite adorably. It was easy for Minerva to project admiration for the energetic wizard. “It was very interesting to learn that he was my good friend Carson’s cousin; he’s rather like him, I think. And so sad about his wife. He sounds as though he was devoted to her; he must have been a very good husband. And those poor, sweet children growing up without a mother, and Quin doing so well with them.” Minerva hoped she was hitting the right note.

Apparently she was, since Gertrude took a gulp of whisky then responded drily, “He was devoted to Aileen. But I think that was an unusual case. He appreciates female attention. As you can see for yourself.”

Quin was clearly being charming and flirtatious, and he had the witches giggling. From out of the corner of her eye, Minerva could see Valerianna, still attached to Flint like a particularly tenacious burr, casting narrow-eyed glances in his direction.

“Yes, it is so nice to see him enjoy himself. He is a natural raconteur.” Seeing the soft-bellied Pollux finally drag Irma from Quin’s orbit, Minerva decided to change the subject, before she went too far, and to ask a question she had always been curious about. She was slightly acquainted with Pollux from her time working at the Ministry, and he had always puzzled her.

“Gertrude, I was wondering, perhaps you could answer this question for me. You must remember that I was at school with Cygnus and his sister Walburga. I could never understand, well, this is somewhat delicate, but how is it that Pollux and Irma are their parents? Obviously, I understand the mechanics of it, and Irma was sixteen when Walburga was born, but, well, I’m sure it’s not mentioned in polite company, but – ”

“You are wondering how Pollux could have fathered Walburga when he was only thirteen?”
Minerva nodded and had the good grace to blush.

“The answer is, he wasn’t. Pollux and Irma had been set to marry practically since Pollux was born. Which was much less than three years after Irma was born.”

“But I saw his records – he was born in nineteen-twelve. Walburga was born in nineteen twenty-five – I know because she’s almost exactly one year younger than I.”

“Records can be altered. He entered school in nineteen twenty-three, but that does not necessarily mean that he was born eleven years before that.”

“But the Hogwarts book – ”

“Cannot be fooled. But only the Headmaster and his Deputy have access to that book. Pollux received his letter in nineteen twenty-one. I was not at Hogwarts at that time, but from what I have been told, Cygnus Black – the father, not the son, obviously – paid a visit to the Headmaster and persuaded him to let his son enter the following year. The next year, he paid the Headmaster another visit, and Pollux’s entrance was delayed one more year.”

“What? Why? And how?” To Minerva’s ears, this seemed even more unusual than Pollux fathering Walpurga at the age of thirteen.

“His magical talent was meagre. Still is, though you didn’t hear me say it. By no means a Squib, but he was a ‘late-bloomer’ – or so his father said. I’ve never seen any evidence of flowering coming from him. The thinking was, he’d be on a more even footing with the other students if he came in a couple years later. All it did was make him a bigger bully, from what I understand. His grandfather was still Headmaster at the time.”

“But his classmates must have known . . . some of them must have been related to him, after all, and had known him since he was a child.”

Gertie shrugged. “Children don’t notice some of the most peculiar things sometimes. Or they notice and then they forget.” She looked at Minerva. “You were an anomaly, Minerva. In ways you probably never appreciated, either.” She took the last sip of her whisky. “I think I will go see Quin for a moment. Rescue him from his adoring audience.”

Minerva didn’t think that Quin needed rescuing, but didn’t say so. Within seconds of Gertie moving off, she found herself cornered by Valerianna, seeming oddly naked without Flint glued to her side.

“So, darling, are you enjoying your evening?”

“Quite,” Minerva said, using all of her restraint to keep from adding, until you arrived. Her mother would have had something of a chuckle over that, but only as long as Minerva didn’t actually utter the words. Her father, on the other hand, would have looked surprised by them, but then laughed with her about it later. Minerva wished there were a few McGonagalls there that evening . . . or even an Egidius or two. A Tyree would be best. Minerva could just see her Grandmother Siofre putting this lot, especially Valerianna, in their place.

“Your escort has abandoned you, though, darling!” Valerianna clucked in what was a superficially soothing tone, but which Minerva recognised as mockery.

“Gertrude does have other guests to attend to,” Minerva replied, being deliberately obtuse.

“I wasn’t speaking of Gertie, my dear, but of your young man, Cormac!”

“Oh, you mean Quin? He’s a bit beyond being my young man, don’t you think, Valerianna? But then, I suppose from your point of view, almost everyone in this room is young.” Minerva didn’t normally stoop to making jibes about someone’s age – and age really didn’t matter to her – but she was sure it was the sort of remark that would get under Valerianna’s skin.

She was right. For a moment, Valerianna’s eyes hardened, but then her smile returned. “But you are so very young, my dear, we must all seem quite old to you. Or perhaps not quite so old . . . . Of course, you probably do like old people, don’t you, child, being at Hogwarts with all of those withered, aged teachers . . . it must be a refuge for a witch such as yourself, away from the hustle and pressures of life in London. I’m sure that can be very hard on an inexperienced and shy young witch. Yes, I can see how retreating to life at Hogwarts could be quite the thing for you, darling.”

Minerva was glad for her Occlumency exercises. She was sure that their calming techniques were the only thing keeping her from turning into a screaming banshee – or at least having her blood pressure rise dangerously. As Valerianna’s “innocent” comments continued, Minerva deliberately relaxed her jaw, which she had begun to clench from the moment that Valerianna began speaking to her, and slowed her breathing.

Deciding to address only the least provocative of Valerianna’s comments – for why should she engage the witch in any argument, as Valerianna clearly wanted? – Minerva replied, “Hogwarts is quite different from London, but you are mistaken regarding my feelings about living in London. I very much enjoyed my life there, and I found the wide variety of people one meets to be most invigorating. Hogwarts is enjoyable on a very different level, but I have found it quite congenial. And I am not the youngest person on staff there.” Minerva thought of Hagrid; she was not being untruthful there.

“No? I suppose that the Headmaster does wish to hire a young staff – ”

Fortunately – and Minerva couldn’t decide whether it was her luck or Valerianna’s – at just that moment, Quin appeared at Minerva’s elbow. He took Minerva’s hand, and with flourish and great solicitude, bent over and kissed it, looking up at her with a twinkle in his eye before straightening.

“I am so sorry, love. I do hope y’ haven’t been feelin’ neglected. But I see that Valerianna has been kind enough to be keepin’ y’ company.”

Minerva gratefully took his proffered arm. “It was lovely to see you enjoying yourself, Quin. And Valerianna was very entertaining. Quite amusing, in fact.” Minerva wondered what was possessing her to goad the older witch further – probably the witch’s own glittering personality combined with Quin’s influence.

“Ta, then, Anna, for takin’ such good care o’ me lass,” Quin said, gracing the witch with his most charming smile before turning to Minerva. Before Valerianna could respond to either of their comments, Quin asked, “Now, perhaps a stroll with me before we go check on the wee tykes, me darlin’?”

“Of course, Quin. I have been looking forward to it all evening.” Minerva had actually had no idea that they would be taking a stroll later, nor that she would be checking on his “wee tykes” with him, but she might as well play along. It was rather amusing to see Valerianna attempting to keep her vitriol from spewing forth.

Quin led her across the room, but before they had attained their freedom, Gertrude had intercepted them. “Leaving, Quin, Minerva?”

“It has been a long day, Gertie; our guest is tired – and although conversation with Anna can be quite stimulatin’, it isn’t necessarily conducive to sweet dreams when taken this late in the evenin’,” replied Quin. “Besides, I do need to look in on the children, and Minerva has been sweet enough to agree to come with me as I do so.”

Gertrude looked from Quin to Minerva and back again. “Good-night, then, Minerva. Sleep well. And I will speak with you later, Quin.”

“I am sure you will. Good-night, Gertie!” he replied cheerfully.

They finally made it out to the hallway. Just as Minerva was about to say something, Quin lifted a finger to her lips. “Shh,” he said softly.

He led her to the main staircase. Quietly, he said, “I was serious about checkin’ on the kids. Would you mind if we did that first? Of course you needn’t, you can go straight to your own room, if you wish – ”

“No, I don’t mind. And I’d like to talk with you, anyway.”

Quin lifted an eyebrow. “And I would like a word with you meself, Minerva, I would – but not here,” he added, looking around.

He put his arm around her and they went up to the second floor to check on the children. Aine was sound asleep, and Quin gave her a light kiss on her brow before leaving her; in the next room, Alroy was up, reading, a ball of light hovering over his book.

“Alroy! What have I told you about behavin’ yourself while we are here!”

The boy scowled and made a pinching motion with his fingers. The light disappeared. “I hate Automagical Candles! I can’t read properly by them,” he grumbled crankily.

Quin reached down and plucked the book from his son’s hands. “Then perhaps it’s time for you to be after sleepin’ and puttin’ your book away.” Quin flicked a forefinger at one of the candles next to his son’s bed, adding to the light that was filtering in through the doorway. “Put it out normally before you go to sleep. I am tryin’ to raise you to be a respectable wizard.” He hesitated, looking down at his scowling son. “I’ll have them put a lamp in here for you. I’ll ask Gertrude. Just use it, all right, son?”

“All right, da,” the boy said with resignation. “It’s not a very good book, anyway.”

Alroy settled down in bed, and Quin smoothed his red hair back from his forehead. “You’re a good boy with a miserable old man,” he whispered. “I’m always proud of you, me son.” He bent and kissed the boy’s head and pulled the sheet up around him. “Sound be your sleep, bright be your dreams, and sweet be your wakin’.” He kissed the child once more on the forehead and, in contradiction to his own earlier words, he waved the candle out.

Minerva stood behind him as he gently closed the door to his son’s room. The scene, while heart-warming, had also made her uneasy. Quin motioned for her to follow him down the hall.

The room he brought her to looked like an unused witch’s sitting room. He closed the door behind them. “We can go for a stroll, if you like, Minerva, but – ”

“This is fine.” Minerva sat in a stiff-backed armchair. “What was that?”

“What do you mean?” asked Quin, puzzled. “I put me children to bed – oh. I see. You mean Alroy’s light.” He sighed and crossed the room to stand in front of her. “You do recognise magic when you see it, don’t you, Professor McGonagall?”

“Of course I do, but he’s only, what, ten? Eleven?”

“Restrictions on Underage Magic only apply to wand-use,” Quin answered tersely. “And things are a bit different where we come from.”

“He is too young. I don’t know how things are ‘different’ where you come from, but he’s trying to do controlled wandless magic. He will burn himself out – ”

A barked laugh from Quin interrupted Minerva’s lecture on the dangers of young children trying to perform controlled magic. “We do not understand each other, Minerva. I can see that.” Minerva thought that a look of sadness flitted across his face. “I am sure that when you knew Carson, then, you were most distressed at his sadly depleted state, havin’ burned his self out doin’ magic as a child.”

“What do you mean?” Minerva asked, although she could plainly see his meaning; she just didn’t like it.

“I mean that bloody Hogwarts ruined Carson Murphy, that’s what I mean. His magic became all squinted and tight. I don’t think he did any wandless magic after he was about thirteen, thanks to your most esteemed school and the laws of the ‘enlightened’ country in which he was living.” Quin’s words were harsh, but his tone mild; nonetheless, Minerva was taken aback. When she didn’t respond immediately to what he had said, Quin continued, “Alroy has not had an incident of uncontrolled magic – a magical accident of the sort I understand is so common for children on your island – since he was four years old. From the time he was three, he has been taught how to feel his magic, how to recognise it and control it.” Quin sighed. “I hadn’t intended to teach him so much – or, rather, have him learn so much – but he is just such a quick lad, and it seemed cheatin’ him to teach him only to stopper his magic and not allow him to learn to use it, as well.” He sat down on the arm of the chair next to Minerva’s and looked over at her. “He will go to Hogwarts, as will Aine, because that is what their mother wished.” His jaw tightened and he swallowed. “I do not know if I am doin’ the right thing by them, but I am trying, and she is not here to guide me.”

Minerva looked at him seriously, brow knit. She remembered well her own magical accidents when she was angry – or sometimes just when she was just tired and cranky – they had lasted until she was at least nine. And she was far from being a late bloomer.

“Come, I’ll walk you downstairs to your room,” Quin said, standing. He was somewhat slouched, and Minerva thought he suddenly looked much older than his forty-odd years.

“If you wish, but I would like to talk longer,” Minerva replied.

“Do ye’ now, Professor? Even though it’s a rascal I’m bein’?” Quin asked in his thickest brogue.

“Knock it off, Quin. I was surprised, that’s all. You really can’t expect me to understand things with which I’ve no familiarity without some kind of explanation, can you?”

Quin settled down in the chair. “P’raps I didn’t misjudge you, after all,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know how you judged me, or misjudged me. But I did think we were getting along.”

“Mmm, until you saw the results of me questionable parentin’ techniques.”

“I don’t know, it seems they are both quite nice children – certainly preferable to some – although I didn’t have much opportunity to speak with Aine. And your parenting techniques seem quite lovely to me, if they’re consistent with what I’ve seen from you so far.”

Quin smiled at her and leaned back in his chair.

“I’d love to learn more about . . . your thoughts and experiences with magical development in children – especially if Alroy will be one of my students! – but I’m too tired for such serious discussion right now, Quin.”

“Mmm, ’tis fine with me, Minerva. I actually wanted to talk to you, meself, I did. I have a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“What on earth did you say to Gertie? She came over to me, knickers all atwist – though most people probably couldn’t have told – and dragged me away from me adorin’ crowds. Thankfully, actually; I was beginnin’ to bore meself. But anyway, she was sayin’ something about me needin’ to be more careful with you. She made it sound as though you were some kind of vulnerable, fragile flower, she did.”

Minerva laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Quin. And I’m sure it won’t get any better after our joint exit, either. I just, well, really, I don’t know what got into me, but I thought . . . I thought I’d give her a bit of a scare, make her think I was enamoured of you. She’s thrown a few things at me, in the most Slytherin way, and I just thought I’d do a little Slytherin manoeuvre of my own. I’m sorry.” Minerva apologised, but she was laughing.

Quin joined her, chuckling and looking at her in admiration. “Well, I would say that it worked. I actually had the impression that she thought you were becoming infatuated with me, but of course she didn’t say so, and after our conversation in the garden, I was fairly sure there was no way she could have any reason to think that. Valerianna, on the other hand . . . I hope you don’t mind that I interrupted your little tête-á-tête.”

“You were my knight in shining armour, Quin. That woman is so horrid . . . she was making a lot of snide little double-entendres that I’m sure she believes I didn’t understand. I was actually beginning to stoop to her level and respond in kind. It’s a good thing you came up when you did, or I might have done something very undignified. The last remark she made was just too much!”

“Why? What was it?”

“Oh, just all kinds of rubbish about Hogwarts. And about Albus. And she managed to imply that I was some kind of shy wall-flower who found London life too much and so retreated to the safety of boring old Hogwarts.”

“Mmm. Not surprising is it, that she would make such remarks?”

“What do you mean?” asked Minerva.

Quin looked uncomfortable. “Nothing, really. Just she has to find something, some weakness, and pick away at it. She is far worse with other witches. She is usually quite charmin’, relatively speaking, with wizards. Someone wouldn’t teach at Hogwarts without having some devotion to their job, leastwise, that’s me take on it, for all I have never been there meself.”

Minerva relaxed. Perhaps he hadn’t been referring to Valerianna’s alleged relationship with Albus. For all Minerva knew, that was something that Gertie had made up – although some of the things that Valerianna had said were definitely peculiar. Calling her “kitten,” for one thing. And Minerva didn’t think that the witch’s snide comments about Hogwarts and aged teachers were motivated solely because it was Minerva’s workplace.

Minerva stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry, Quin. It has been a long day. I think it’s time for me to be heading off to sleep. But I do thank you for rescuing me from that sow’s ear – and for not disabusing Gertrude of her notion that I’m infatuated with you,” she added with a grin.

“No trouble at all, Minerva. Although if we are to keep up appearances, you may have to suffer me company more over the next few days!” He had a devilish grin on his face.

Minerva laughed. “If it will keep me away from the likes of Valerianna and the rest of them, I will gladly suffer your presence!”

“Then perhaps I might request your company at the party Wednesday evening? I know we are both goin’, anyway, but it might give me an excuse not to dance more than once with every rich old hag who drools on me,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Mmm, as though they were all old hags and you wouldn’t enjoy the attention! But yes, I will. It would be convenient for me, as well, especially as I also believe that Valerianna fancies you herself – despite her barnacle – given the way she looks at you, and it could give her one more reason to seethe!”

“You certainly did make her an enemy quickly – or am I mistaken, and you two knew each other from elsewhere?”

“Never met the witch before, and if I never see her again after this week, I shall count myself a lucky witch.” Minerva stood.

“I’ll walk you to your room as a true suitor should, I will,” Quin said.

They left and headed toward the stairs. Part way down the hall, Quin stopped and put his finger up, listening. He smiled and nodded. “Ready to continue the charade, love?” he whispered.

Minerva could hear a light tread coming up the stairs. She was only slightly confused, but nodded.

“Arms around me neck, then, quick.”

Minerva caught his meaning and followed his directions. Quin put his arms around her waist, clasping his hands behind her. He looked down at Minerva and winked, then gently blew a breath over her head. Minerva could feel her hair coming down from its roll at the back of her head; thankfully, he didn’t do anything with her hairclips. He backed her up against the wall and leaned forward. Minerva began to get slightly nervous then, not knowing how far he planned to take their “charade.” Just then, the sound of the footsteps reached the top of the stairs.

Quin bent his head down, and his breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “Act as though I am saying something charming, roguish, and quite naughty right now.”

“Oh, Quin, you really are too much . . . .” Minerva uttered in a low but clear tone. “You can’t really mean . . . .”

He whispered in her ear again. “Now act as though I’m kissing your neck and sending you into the heights of ecstasy.”

Minerva felt him move his head down so that his face was near her neck. From the top of the stairs, anyone watching would assume that he was doing as he had said, but although he moved his head slightly, his lips never touched her skin. Minerva, feeling rather ridiculous, but unable to back out now, threw her head back and closed her eyes, hoping it looked like she had a blissful expression on her face. “Oh, really, Quin, we should stop now . . . .” she said, quietly again, but loudly enough to be heard down the hall.

Just as Quin was straightening up, his blue eyes smiling merrily, another voice interrupted. “Yes, Quin, I do think that would be wise. You are in a public area.”

“Ah, Gertie, so nice to be seein’ ye’,” Quin said, turning, a brilliant smile on his face. “I was just bringin’ the Professor here to her room, I was.”

“Her room is on the floor below this.”

“An’ well am I knowin’ it; ’tis some lovely time we were spendin’ there earlier, wasn’t it, love?” he replied, looking to Minerva for agreement.

Although Minerva had started this whole thing with her ridiculous comments to Gertrude earlier in the evening, she now felt somewhat uncomfortable under the gaze of the older witch, as though she had been found out after curfew at Hogwarts, canoodling with another student in some dim alcove. Minerva blinked and remembered that she was now a teacher at Hogwarts. She also reminded herself that Gertie had brought her there – under, well, not false pretenses, precisely, but certainly unknown ones, and so she deserved a bit of the fruit from the plant she herself had set.

“Yes, I believe I mentioned that to Gertrude,” Minerva answered.

“Did you now? And it’s givin’ all me secrets away, you are!” He had moved back away from Minerva, but he kept one arm draped loosely about her. “Good-night, Gertie! It’s seein’ the fair professor to her rooms now, I am. Would na’ want any harm t’ come t’ her!”

The two started toward the stair. “I would like to see you before you retire, Quin.”

Quin paused. “That’s a grand idea, Gertrude. I will stop by your room.”

“No, I will wait for you in yours, if you don’t mind.”

“O’ course not, be free. ’Tis your house.”

Quin and Minerva walked down the stairs as quickly as they could.

When they reached her room, he said softly, “I hate to admit it, Minerva, but that went perhaps too well. I know I am a consummate rogue, but I really didn’t believe she’d fall for it so completely.”

“Now it’s I who am sorry, Quin. I hope she isn’t too hard on you.”

“Don’t worry. I agreed to this. ’Twas funny to see her face. I don’t think she had any idea what to make of what she saw!”

“Well, I do suppose we shouldn’t make it too real. We also don’t want your children to get the wrong idea.”

“Mmm. We shall walk a narrow line, then? You know . . . .” He stopped. “Never mind. Just a thought. But I better be goin’ before she comes down here to see if I am after corruptin’ your innocence!”

Minerva laughed. “Good-night, then, Quin! And you know, it’s odd, but I feel as though I’ve known you for years . . . probably not a good thing.”

He smiled down at her. “Probably not. But it is good to have a new friend.” Quin bent and kissed Minerva lightly on the cheek, then turned and left her outside her door.