Epilogue

December 2008

Although the sun had only just finished setting, the winter wind whipping off the Black Lake was merciless, pulling heat from the bones like a Dementor feasting on the condemned. Closing her eyes, Minerva McGonagall permitted herself a rare moment of self-indulgent wallowing; inhaling deeply of the snowy, damp December air, she let herself catalogue the myriad physical aches and niggles that came from both advancing age and foolishly standing out in the cold for too long. Indeed, the raw furrows of pain found at joint and on exposed skin brought on by the icy conditions were echoed by her rocky emotional state, and Minerva gladly blamed her watering eyes on the effects of the wind and nothing else.

I am being an absolute ninny, she told herself firmly, attempting to muster the pretence of a stiff upper lip and finally start making her way back up to the Castle. A damnable ambivalence had coloured her mood for the last several months, and this evening was no exception. This should be a happy day—this is a happy day!—and all I can focus on is the negative. Why can't I be content with all that I have? Why must I feel so… jealous?

Not four hours before, Severus and Hermione had married in a small but joyous ceremony. Observing the somewhat stunned, utterly besotted, and tender expression of pure love on Severus' face as Hermione had walked down the aisle towards him had made everyone shed a tear or two, not just her. And Hermione… well, it might be a cliché to say that she glowed, but it was the aptest description of her radiant continence as she pledged her love and loyalty during the moving service.

On the surface of things, life was perfect. Watching the impressive results of her meddling should have had her cackling with glee in her morning cuppa, but instead all Minerva could note was just how much Severus had been denied and stunted in his life; never far from that realisation was the knowledge that she played a major part in that state of affairs.

Since returning, Severus' magic, always a fearsome and potent force, had ripened into something decidedly less cool—although it had not lost its darker affinities—and into something more… playful. There was a richness to it now, like the complexity found in a fine cup of espresso, or the manifold possibilities of a warm summer evening. At nearly fifty, Severus Snape had finally bloomed into the man that he should have been all along. Rather than rejoicing at the turn of events, Minerva felt simply… bitter- and old.

Severus had also begun to take on a more public role as Headmaster, with Hermione stepping into some of the duties of châtelaine that Minerva had performed for the better part of forty years. While initially welcoming the change in duties because it gave her increased free time, Minerva had more recently been forced to fight back pangs of resentment; she could see quite clearly what a force of change Severus and Hermione would be as the leaders of Hogwarts for decades to come. What wasn't so clear to Minerva was what exactly her new role would be.

Still, as co-Heads, she and Severus had dealt with, or rather, were dealing with the aftereffects of the attack on the Express and the resulting truths brought to light. Deciding that complete transparency was the only way to proceed, she and Severus had commissioned a fact-finding investigation into Albus Dumbledore's actions as Headmaster, as the leader of the Order of the Phoenix as well as his eventual recovery of Riddle's Horcruxes. Leading the inquiry was Richard Savage, a Gryffindor and retired Auror, and Gemma Farley, a Slytherin and former Wizengamot scribe. Although it was bound to uncover a treasure trove of embarrassing information about the Ministry as well as the going-ons at Hogwarts, Kingsley Shacklebolt in his role as Minister for Magic had given the probe his full backing. Minerva had found some relief in the fact that the plethora of secrets that had so impacted her life were to finally see the light of day; for better or worse, they would be able to see the truth laid out bare for the first time.

And so the daily mundanities of life had chugged along. Despite the hassle of trying to manage floo connections and portkeys to transport the entire student body to and from the Castle, the autumn term had gone smoothly and could be counted as a resounding success.

Alas, repairs on the Express had proven to be a damp squib, as had any personal entanglements with the Stationmaster. Since their near-kiss, Hugh Munroe had proven impossible to pin down. Indeed, he had scurried off with such speed the three times she had run into him in Hogsmeade that Minerva had given up on any romantic notions as a lost cause. As much as she told herself that it was for the best—she did not need another fickle and flaky man in her life to jolly along, thank you very much—the rejection continued to sting. Even burying herself in work had not helped; for once her tower was not a refuge but a prison... and a lonely one at that.

The admission that she was deeply lonely, even if only made within the privacy of her own mind, had been what had chased her from Severus and Hermione's wedding dinner in the Great Hall. Not wanting to spoil the occasion with her own foul mood, Minerva had slipped away, determined to right herself emotionally and return with the proper perspective due on such a blessed event.

But that hasn't happened, has it? If anything, I'm more waspish than before. Would anyone notice if I didn't return to the Hall tonight?

But before she could decide on the likelihood of her absence causing a stir, the solid crunch of booted footsteps sounded from the path. Glancing up, Minerva saw the burly form of Hugh Munroe advancing towards her. Oh, not tonight of all nights, she thought, resolutely pulling on her best company manners. I can't deal with him!

"Stationmaster," she said crisply, making no other welcome.

Munroe bowed deeply, her return to formalities not lost on him. "Headmistress McGonagall. I know that this is a busy evening for you, but could I beg your company for a quick visit to my workshop?"

Opening her mouth to reply in the negative, she was forestalled by another masculine voice calling her name.

"Minerva?" Severus called again, striding down the steep path from the Castle with ease. Coming to her side, he halted and sent a chilly stare towards the other man. "Mr Munroe," he intoned.

"Headmaster Snape. My congratulations on your wedding. Allow me to wish you and your lovely wife many happy years."

Severus' manner did not thaw one bit. "My thanks. I need to speak with Minerva for a moment. Would you excuse us?"

"Of course," the Stationmaster agreed, "I'll head back to the gates to wait."

Holding off until the Scotsman was well out of earshot, Severus turned to her with a look of worry on his face. "Did that blasted man say something to upset you? Because if he did—"

"No, no," Minerva interjected hastily. "He only just found me, and apparently has some sort of update on the Express that he wanted to share with us."

"Bollocks to that," was the quick response. "That man has made himself more scarce than a manticore at a hunt and now he wants some of your time?"

Despite herself, Minerva smiled, touched at both Severus' concern and by the fact that he had noticed Munroe's disappearance in her life. "I was about to send him away, never fear."

Reaching out with warm hands, Severus gripped her own stiff fingers, seeking to impart comfort. "You are an icicle, woman. How long have you been out here? Hermione and I were getting quite worried when we couldn't find you."

"Oh, not as long as all that. I merely needed a bit of a ramble to settle my mind."

Not looking convinced, Severus raised a black brow. "Minerva, what is wrong? One doesn't have to be a Legilimens to know that you've been feeling blue as of late."

On the tip of her tongue was yet another deflection, but whether it be from the bleak conditions surrounding them or her own weariness, she found that she didn't have the heart for anything but the truth. "I have been feeling a tad… surplus to requirements as of late," she said at last, embarrassment lending colour but no heat to her cheeks.

Appearing poleaxed by the revelation, Severus stared at her dumbfounded. "Surplus to requirements? You? You're the heart of the Castle and have been for more years than I'm willing to put labels to. Without you… we all would have fallen to pieces ages ago."

"I just… I suppose I am not as comfortable with change as I would like," she answered weakly.

"I know that we've been shuffling things about, but it's never been myself or Hermione's intent to push you out. Quite the contrary- we had hoped that in freeing you up, you would finally be able to tackle one of the projects that you've been championing all these years."

"It's foolish, I know-"

"More than foolish," Severus said gently. "Could I do this job all by myself? Yes, if forced to. Do I want to? No, not in the least. I would rather give up the post entirely and have you be the sole Head if that is what you need. Without your support over the last ten years, I would not be enjoying the favour I now have. I wouldn't have Hermione. And in the next ten years? The changes you and I can make together? The way that we will be able to influence generations of Hogwarts students..? Minerva, everything hinges on you. Everything centres on you."

It was a mark of just how secure Severus had grown that his anxious emotions were writ clear on his angular face. That more than anything silenced her internal chorus of doubting voices, his vehemence about her place in his schemes finding a foothold. The sentiment was also stunningly touching, a furl of hope unfolding within her. I really am being a ninny.

"Thank you for that compliment." Giving a short huff, Minerva squeezed his hands in mute appreciation. "I know that I should have spoken up far sooner, but I didn't want to put a damper on what should have been a perfect occasion."

"And once you rejoin us, it will be a perfect evening. You've done nothing to mar it, Minnie."

"Oh, hush with your sweet talk, boyo. Any more of this and we'll be adding a badger to your personal crest," Minerva chided, well aware that she was likely to cry if he continued on in this vein. "I will return to the party just as soon as I hear the update from Munroe. Kingsley mentioned something about the Ministry possibly providing funding for a new train, and I'd like to see if there is anything we can salvage from the Express before we go down that route."

"Do you want me to join you?"

"No. I'll not have you miss any more of your own wedding supper on my account."

Pursing his mouth, Severus considered her answer for a long moment before shrugging off his greatcoat, shortening the hem and settling it over her shoulders. With a wordless flick, he placed a strong warming charm over her, the spell conveying as much physical warmth as it did sentiment. "As you wish. But for Merlin's sake, don't walk all the way back up to the Castle in this weather. Apparate, alright? No use in having the Head's privileges if you don't use them."

"I will, if only to spare your delicate sensibilities."

"Excellent," Severus returned. "May I glower at Munroe a bit more?"

"If you must."

"Oh, I must." Offering her a gallant arm, Severus walked her back to the gates where Munroe was standing, appearing distinctly uneasy.

"We'll be serving the cakes in about half an hour," Severus announced loudly, meaning clear.

"I'll return in time for the cutting."

"Good. As I said, Apparate back." So saying, he politely opened and held the gate for them.

With a faint smile at the theatrics, Minerva made her way down the icy Hogsmeade path, only keeping her footing thanks to a modified sticking charm applied to her boots. Hugh Munroe was a silent presence next to her, and she was content to let sleeping dogs lie.

Reaching the wide shop doors at the far end of the station several minutes later, Hugh finally paused. "I know that I've been a right feartie-cat, but I hope that you'll let me explain why I've acted as I did."

Minerva wavered in the face of his plea. Did she want to hear the man out? Was he merely trying to save face, or was there something more behind his words? No, she decided, it might make me a feartie as well, but I've not the stomach for dealing with anything more. Not tonight, at least. "It's been a long evening, Mr Munroe, and it's not over yet. I would prefer if we stuck to business for now."

He was visibly disappointed, but to give the man credit, he didn't try to argue the point. "Of course. I completely understand. Please, come in."

The large, tall-ceilinged workshop was dark and relatively warm as compared to the outside; in the gloom, Minerva could just make out the looming shape of the Express. Conjuring the lights, Munroe took off his gloves and laid a fond hand on the round curve of the engine.

Minerva couldn't hide her gasp of surprise at how well repaired the Express appeared. The train was whole again, the warped iron and bent frame tamed into propriety once more.

"You've done a lot of work since I was here last," she said, letting her amazement show.

"Aye," he replied, "but there are miles to go yet, and there are some decisions to be made that are well outside of my remit."

For the first time, Minerva noticed the sorry state of his hands. Blunt fingered but still graceful, they were marred by dozens of cuts and slices. In the cold such as this, the wounds had to be agonising. There was only one reason for such injuries to not be promptly healed; Hugh was using blood magic and his own affinity for metal to repair the train, and it required the cuts to heal naturally to best seal the bonds of magic.

His obvious effort and sacrifice burned away a good chunk of her anger. "And what decisions need to be made?"

"How to proceed, and indeed, if you want to." Pointing to the long wall opposite of them, he went on, fatigue marking his words for the first time. "I've come to my limit, at least working alone. While restoring the exterior of the Express came down to a matter of effort and will, the internal mechanisms have proven to be a whole other kettle of fish. Most, if not all of the components have been irrevocably damaged in the crash. The only way to make them usable again would be to transfigure them into something else entirely; you know better than most that a complete transfiguration into something new would create a far stronger part than even the most powerfully cast repairo would."

"Yes, a repairo doesn't mend the inherent flaw in an object as much as masks it, leaving the item prone to repeated breakage," she murmured, wandering closer to the massive sets of plans to examine them.

"Precisely. A one-for-one transfiguration of the remaining parts could eventually give us what we need to reassemble the Express, but even managing the complexity of such an endeavour would be a feat, never mind the actualities of the tasks. Matching metal for metal, getting the underlying structures correct… even with the original schematics, it would be the job of a lifetime."

Minerva exhaled slowly, taking it all in. "I'll not argue with that logic. Clearly, you have other notions of what to do, however."

"Aye, that I do. I've done a fair bit of research into modern Muggle train designs, and I think with some planning, we could remake Express into something that provides much more comfort and space, is far safer and ecologically sound, all while retaining the essential characteristics of the train that generations of Hogwarts students hold dear. After all, the engineering of the Express dates from the 1820s; even a jump of fifty years would be a massive upwards shift. These two initial planning diagrams here," he said, pointing further down the wall, "are the two best options that I could come up within such a limited amount of time."

The intricacy and painstaking detail that Hugh had put into the work was glaringly obvious; this was not the effort of a week or even a month- this was a project that had consumed the man's every waking moment for months on end. Minerva began to regret her choice to not hear him out.

"The way I see it, the wizarding world has been damned lazy these last two hundred years," Hugh began with an evangelical lilt. "Aye, magic gives us certain advantages, true, but at the end of the day, we use them only as aids and shortcuts. Real development, real problem-solving… we've completely dismissed it as nonsense and settled into our ways with nary a quibble. As a society, we've completely ignored the industrial revolution and mechanisation, much to our detriment. Oh, we might take something that the Muggles have made and add a charm or enchantment or two for our benefit—Arthur Weasley's flying car being a prime example—but when was the last time we truly engineered something? Pushed ourselves? When was the last time we built something that actually meets our needs and isn't just bodged together bits and bobs?"

A smile, bold and piratical, lit his face as he pointed to the plans. "Ahh, but these designs on the other hand… if we start from scratch and integrate proper engineering with the best of magical theory to build a truly wizarding train, it will require the creation of dozens of new spells, not to mention complex feats of transfiguration, charmwork, and arithmancy the likes of which haven't been attempted in hundreds of years. It will push us to the breaking, I think, and stretch what we think is possible. And when we emerge on the other side, victorious, we will have something to be proud of."

The notion was nothing if audaciously bold, and more than a little bit mad; it made Minerva's heart pound in excitement with the sheer revolutionary nature of it. The work that it would require, and the number of people… already the nascent logistics were bubbling forth in her mind, and oh, the possibilities of sinking her teeth into high transfiguration theory for once…

"Minerva," Hugh asked, his blue eyes positively mesmerising, "aren't you tired of teaching students to transfigure mice into snuffboxes?"

"Yes," she croaked, feeling as though she'd been hit by a bludger. "Yes, I am."

His voice softened. "I canna do this alone, but with you, with your talents and skills… if we brought together the brightest minds of Wizarding Britain for this project, think of what we could build! Not only a train, but an entirely new mindset… and as for labour, well, there is an entire Castle full of idle hands just up that hill that needs occupying, isn't there?"

For one bright, shining moment, Minerva could see the future blazing in front of her, the possibilities manifold and glorious. Gazing at Hugh's handsome, passionate visage, however, her doubts and fears suddenly flooded back, her stomach twisting with a sickening lurch. This was far more than a project, this was a grand cause… and when it came to supporting grand causes she'd failed more than once. How can I go down this path again?

It was, after all, the grand cause that had brought her Hogwarts from the Ministry so long ago; Albus had promised her the freedom to modernise the Transfiguration curriculum, to finally bring notions of feminism and equality to the school and by proxy, the Wizarding world as a whole. He'd given her some of that, to be sure, but the major changes were always put off- first because the Board of Governors had been too conservative, and later because of the rise of Tom Riddle and the darker aspects of the pureblood movement. War- shadow or not- had consumed them time and again. As the horrors had piled up, Minerva had put her full trust in Albus Dumbledore; had abrogated much of her will to him because of that unwavering trust and love. While they had won in the end, the cost had been absolutely staggering- Severus' blackened life being a prime example.

Minerva felt smothered by all the mistakes that had come before, wanting nothing more than to flee into the night. To hide... she had put her faith in a man once, and it had brought her to the edge of ruin. Am I strong enough to do this? Can I trust myself to make the correct decisions, to say no when I must?

The cool, analytical part of her mind finally clicked into action, reducing some of her panic. There was no need to make any decisions or declarations right now; this sort of large scale project would require the support and approval from enough people that she could beg off anything further tonight without causing insult. She could stay… safe. Moreover, Hugh Munroe wasn't Albus Dumbledore; the stakes were not remotely the same.

"Minerva?" Hugh said, concern crossing his expression as her long silence stretched out.

No, a quiet but firm voice said. I will not choose to be safe this time. I will not hide. I will not let the spectres of the past blot out the future.

"Hugh… you said that you had reasons for acting as you did. I would hear them now."

With a nervous swallow, the man looked down at his muddy boots before his head came up again to face her. He smiled but it lacked the bravado of earlier.

"If it can be said that I have one talent, it is that I know how to find the best of women and make them fall in love with me." Expression turning self-deprecating, he went on. "Three marriages, three divorces, and all of them to amazing, talented women in their own rights. Each time I said my vows, I meant it… but I would always let me doubts get the better of me. Six years ago, after Matilda and I divorced, I told myself never again. Not because I wanted to be alone for the rest of my life, but because I know that I hurt very good people in a way that I couldn't stand any longer. Ahh, I can love a woman like nothing else, but I canna love myself. The fault… it was always me, ya ken?"

Licking her dry lips, Minerva nodded. "I do."

"You have always been a mythical creature in my eyes. Queen of the Castle, and no passive, pretty, useless one at that. Aye, I can recall seeing you during the Battle of Hogwarts looking like Boudica the Brave herself. So you see, I've always watched you. Admired you… then came the events of last May."

Hugh stepped forward, close enough that she could feel the blistering heat of his body, and she shivered in reaction.

"Most people, man or woman, would have flinched from the ugly truth that was in front of them that day. But you didn't hesitate, did you? No, instead you called your armies to the field and prepared Hogwarts for battle once more. When you shifted the Castle Wards, I felt them… for a single, terrifying moment, I felt them flex and respond to you, bend to your magic and will. Never in my life have I seen something so awe-inspiring, and you did it all without breaking a sweat."

"I did what I had to do, nothing more…" she said weakly.

"Perhaps. But I can only say that after six years of guarding my heart more fiercely than any dragon does his gold, I found myself dangerously close to falling in love with you. And I knew… I knew that I had no right to do so. You were so far above my reach, you might as well have been on the moon."

At a loss, Minerva couldn't find any words to speak.

"For a day or two, I dreamed up all these fancy, madcap plans to sweep you off your feet. I just needed one grand romantic gesture to win you over to my side forever, aye? I knew that I could pull it off- after all, I'd done three times before. And then… I stopped. Took stock. What did I have to offer you other than charm and good manners? What have I done with all my years other than muck about and be the village lothario? Aye, I'm the Stationmaster of Hogwarts… but it's a station with just one train to our name. A train that at the time was sitting in a field blown to smithereens. So I sat myself down and did a fair bit of soul-searching. That's when some of the notions for this project came into being."

"Hugh," Minerva asked shakily. "Did you do all of this for me?"

"No." The answer came immediately, and Minerva felt something tight in her chest relax at the denial. "No, I am doing this for me. I have far more to offer than charm or good manners, but I've always been too scared to find out what really lays beneath my... pretty exterior. What if I proved to be nothing but a failure?"

"You won't. Not if you apply half the passion and dedication that you've shown me tonight into this project," Minerva replied numbly, mind unable to latch onto a solid train of thought. "Hugh… I'm not… I'm not all that special. I'm not what you think. Believe me, I am beset with just many fears as you, and the mistakes that I've made… well, they could fill the Black Lake and then some. I'm no perfect paragon of womanhood." She trailed off, unsure as to what she was trying to say. What she was trying to ask.

Slowly reaching forward, Hugh placed his battered hand upon hers, the sheer size and warmth of it shocking. "I did you a disservice last spring, Minerva. I should have spoken to you about why I backed away so suddenly. By the time I had finally straightened my mind out, enough weeks had passed that I was embarrassed to even approach you about it. You have my most sincere apology for the hurt that I caused ye in not doing so. Know this: I am still just as enamoured of you as I always have been. If your interest in me is gone, I will not pressure you further on that count; I do hope that we can at least manage to be friends. And while I very much want to see this project through, if I must hand it over to someone else because of my actions, I will do so without a fight. There will be other things for me to dive into. Now that I've had a taste of stretching my wings, I'll not go back to being a mere barfly."

Weak-kneed, Minerva stared at their clasped hands dazedly. What do I do? She shivered again, the comforting weight of Severus' cloak embracing her. His magic- the love he'd imbued in the warming charm- swirled strongly around her, giving Minerva the courage to finally meet Hugh's blue-eyed regard.

Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves, she smiled tentatively. "Will you come up to the Castle with me tonight? Not to discuss this project with Severus- that can wait until after he and Hermione come back from their honeymoon, and I want to go through it more thoroughly before we do so- but to just... talk. Perhaps we can share a dance or two. Having booked them myself, I can testify to the quality of the musicians."

His expression held all the promise of the spring sun rising over the lake. "I would like that verra much."

"I need to be honest with you, Hugh. I don't know where this might lead, if it goes anywhere at all. At the moment, I'm running on nought but fumes and old fears."

Cupping her cheek, Hugh leaned down and placed a gentle buss on her forehead. "Let me be your friend, Minerva. Let me give you a bit of my strength until you've found your own feet again," he intreated, drawing the fabric of Severus' cloak protectively around her. "Lean on us all. You are a brilliant, brave, and bonnie woman, and with a bit of help, I have no doubt that this too shall pass."

A tear rolled down her face, as the emotions of the day proved to be too much. Angrily, she started to wipe it away, but Hugh caught her hand. "Don't. Let it be, and come here instead," he said, opening his arms wide.

She hesitated for a moment, old hurts making themselves known. No. I refuse to live in the past any longer. Stepping decisively into Hugh's hug, Minerva let her head come to rest on the comforting solidity of his chest, a few more tears escaping. His arms slipped around her waist with perfect compatibility. Minerva let some of the starch on her spine dissipate as she leaned into him, hearing his steady heartbeat for the first time. She exhaled, feeling oddly at home.

"We can walk back up to the Castle," Minerva eventually murmured, "or if you would be comfortable with it, I can Apparate us back. It is one of the privileges that I enjoy as Headmistress."

"Oh, I'll not invite the wrath of Severus Snape down upon myself by disobeying his direct orders." Hugh laughed. "By all means, Apparate us. Let me hold you, Minerva, and you can take us wherever we need to go."

Her smile contained far more humour and confidence as she looked back up at him, eyebrow raised in challenge. "Ready, then?"

"As I ever will be."

Making sure that Hugh's arms were securely around her, Minerva pictured the joyous celebration taking place in the Great Hall and leapt into the unknown.

A/N- As promised, the epilogue :) Thoughts?

The prompt from Gemini Sister was: 'The Hogwarts Express goes missing with some students aboard. Severus Snape to the rescue with Hermione either stuck on the train or assisting him'. From that lovely seed of an idea came this story, and there has been a village over the years helping me to write and edit this. My most sincere thanks to Nate, my OG beta, Coco96 who helped with the first two chapters, DelphiPSmith who gave it a good poke prior to the posting of the SSHG Gift Fest, Gelsey who beta'd the first round of expansions, and Q_Drew who helped me finally finish this beast at last. Moreover, a massive thanks goes to you, lovely and amazing readers, for sticking with this one, continuing to be excited and encouraging despite the long delays, and showing this (and me!) love. Last but not least, hugs to EclecticBonVivant, Poledne, viola1701e, m. duke .fisher, Kailin, houstonclay, Onyx Obsidian, Foxzelaine101, Cmdr. Dorky Badass, Ninamaria429, MoonlitSnowFox, Dentelle, RhodaBush as well as a handful of guests for leaving comments on the last chapter.

Nearer to the end of the month there will two new stories popping up from me that are currently being posted as part of ongoing fests- one longer SSHG multi-chaptered fic, and a shorter (but smuttier!) piece. Until then, happy reading and have an even happier New Year!