Well, it's done. I'm actually kind of sad. Last chance to review, so pleeeaaasssseee let me know what you thought. I hope you enjoyed this! It's definitely done in a different style than my other fics.


The place between sleep and awake
End of innocence
Unending masquerade
That's where I'll wait for you

Hold me, near you
So closely, sear you
Seeing, believing
Dreaming, deceiving

-"Sleepwalker," Nightwish

Harry and his friends watched worriedly as Professor McGonagall dangled helplessly in Riddle's power. Dumbledore didn't dare attack for fear of harming his professor, and the very air in the clearing was thick with tension.

"You two be ready to do what we planned," Harry whispered as Voldemort continued to talk. He couldn't bear to watch and not do something. "As soon as Professor McGonagall is safe."

Surprisingly, it was Ron who quickly voiced his agreement. "This will probably be our best chance if we're gonna defeat him. He's already weak from dueling both Dumbledore and McGonagall."

Hermione wrung her hands. "But we promised," she murmured.

"Yes, and things will definitely get out of hand if our plan fails," Harry said dryly. "In which case we will keep our promise and retreat. Probably."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"If you are Dark, why follow that Muggle-loving fool?" Voldemort questioned, slowly circling Minerva. "Join me and you will have greater power than you can imagine. No one would dare stand against you. All your desires would be fulfilled, and you would gain a place of honor at my side."

"You do love to hear yourself talk, don't you?" Minerva said caustically. "I have spent my life fighting against people like you. Do not waste your breath." She wanted to make him angry. Perhaps it wasn't the best plan, especially since she was at his mercy, but people blinded by fury made mistakes.

"I would never join you; you are beneath me. At the height of my power my name was truly forgotten. People whispered the title they gave me, and even then they feared my retribution. Throughout the land they were terrified of me for things I had never done. I was alone, with none to stand by me. And you? You had to work to gain your reputation, make promises and threats to gain followers, and still your true name will never be forgotten. I killed the assassins they sent after me and with my magic tore apart the soldiers who came for me, while you were defeated by a child."

If Hermione and Ron had felt shocked and betrayed before, it was nothing compared to their reactions now, Harry observed. They all turned to Dumbledore, questions in their eyes, desiring reassurance. In only a moment, though Harry could see the wheels turning in Hermione's head, even as he began to consider this.

Although it was difficult to tell, Dumbledore had not appeared surprised by this revelation. If he knew, why would he allow her anywhere near the students, give her a position with such power as Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts? How could he put so much trust in her if she had done what she claimed? It didn't make any sense. She had risked her life to protect her students, had fought against Voldemort in both wars. He had never even heard of her reign of terror; there had been no Dark Ladies between Grindelwald and Voldemort. She was, as Tom had said, Dumbledore's right hand. Dumbledore was nothing if not a good judge of people (despite his track record with DADA professors), and he was in love with her. That had to count for something.

Harry's mind was a swirl of confusion. He didn't know what to think, but as soon as this was over, he was getting to the bottom of it.

"You lie," Voldemort said in disbelief.

"You know I do not." He was a master at Legilimency, after all.

"I have never even heard of you," he protested, eyes narrowed.

"No, you wouldn't have," Minerva drawled in a passable imitation of Severus.

Riddle snarled at her, face twisted into a demonic mask, and his hand flew to her throat as if he would crush her windpipe. Albus tensed, ready to cast at a moment's notice. Instead, the Dark Lord appeared to change his mind, and his dry, scaly hand parted the high collar of her robes, caressing her skin and slowly moving downward. "You certainly need to be taught a lesson, Professor," he hissed malevolently, red eyes glowing with an unholy light. Minerva couldn't contain a shudder, bravado abandoning her, and he grinned cruelly as she tried to shrink away from his touch.

Her gaze met Albus', who was trembling in barely controlled rage. The anger in her bright green eyes did nothing to hide her overwhelming fear, and tears of panic gathered, about to fall.

It was the last straw.

"Do not touch her!" he roared as the ground began to shake. His blue eyes, which normally appeared cold as ice in his anger, now seemed to shimmer like a flame, and electricity played across his skin, crackling as his aura took a visible form. Voldemort, so confident only a moment ago, looked on at the spectacle in fear. The ground beneath him buckled, and he was thrown to his knees as the roots of the surrounding trees shot out of the dirt, pulling him into a tight embrace. Albus had both hands trained on the wizard, although none of the witnesses knew whether he had actually cast a spell through them.

Minerva fought desperately against the magic that kept her in the air, and a burst of her own wandless magic gained her freedom now that Riddle was so distracted.

"Potter, now!" she screamed as the Dark Lord began to free himself from the binds. She saw Harry and his friends position themselves near Dumbledore so as to get a clear shot. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger appeared to cast a spell in tandem at the third member of their group. Minerva couldn't hear the words over the howls of Riddle, but the result caused Mr. Potter to glow with a steady white light, as opposed to Albus' flashing supernova.

She saw the teenager's mouth move, speaking the incantation, and his wand channeled the light. It hit Voldemort, who let out an inhuman shriek as the energy poured out of Mr. Potter. In but a moment he lowered his wand, the spell finished, as the light surrounding the Dark Lord grew brighter and brighter.

Something was wrong. Minerva could feel it. The spell, whatever it was, was working properly, but it had set something off. Her heart sank. It seemed she hadn't countered all of the Grimmorie's spells he had used on himself.

"Get down!" she bellowed, and then braced herself, spreading her arms as she began to chant. It wasn't the counter-spell, but with the appropriate sacrifice, it would nullify whatever magic Riddle had cast upon himself to gain revenge on those who would defeat him.

At her words, Harry automatically threw himself to the ground as Dumbledore grabbed Ron and Hermione and yanked them down. The light seemed to compress itself, retreating to a point several feet in front of Minerva, glowing like a miniature sun so that it was too bright to look in her direction. They were forced to turn their faces away and close their eyes.

The moment Minerva ended the chant, the globe of light shot forward, leaving a tail like a comet as it struck her in the chest.

When Harry dared to open his eyes again, it took quite a while to readjust to the darkness. The first image he managed to make out was a torn, dirty black robe tangled among the roots. There was no sign of the Dark Lord, which was as it should be. Harry knew he hadn't escaped, as the result of failing that particular spell was the death of its caster. No more, he realized. No more looking behind him, waiting for his life to be in danger again and again. Logically, he knew that his life was his own once again, but it hadn't truly sunk in yet. Not to mention the last spell had drained him.

He looked back at the Headmaster and his friends, who were blinking as their eyes adjusted, and slowly heaving themselves to their feet. And then he realized that there was someone missing. His head whipped around to face the clearing, looking frantically for –

"Minerva!" Dumbledore exclaimed, and was at her side in a flash. Harry winced, his muscles protesting as he followed the older wizard as quickly as he could. Professor McGonagall's still form was crumpled on the ground, one arm out flung.

Harry took a moment to observe his Transfiguration Professors. He had never seen her so look so frail. She seemed to be drowning in her dark green robes, crushed beneath the fabric. McGonagall's long, tangled hair haloed her face, no doubt as blood-stained, dirtied, and full of leaves and twigs as Dumbledore's silvery beard, although it was difficult to see. Her inky black hair and long dark eyelashes provided a sharp contrast to her pale, nearly translucent skin. He caught glimpses of a web of purplish veins.

Hermione gasped, and brought a hand to her mouth. "Is she…?" she whispered.

Albus' hand trembled as he hesitantly felt for a pulse. He sighed in relief. It was slow and faint, but it was there. "She's alive." She was so light he lifted her easily, and left the clearing.

Dumbledore must be standing by sheer force of will, Harry mused. If he felt exhausted after only one major spell, how must the Headmaster feel? Dumbledore looked only marginally better than Professor McGonagall.

The trio exchanged glances.

"She doesn't look evil," Ron muttered as they moved to flank the older wizard in case he collapsed.

Hermione elbowed him sharply.

Dumbledore looked at them each in turn before saying, "We would appreciate it, I believe, if the true events of what took place here were not revealed."


Minerva had been in a coma for two weeks. Poppy had been able to heal her physical injuries, but there was no spell that could wake a coma victim. It had been the first time, the nurse noted, that the Headmaster had willingly remained in the Hospital Wing. Although, more often than not, she had to force him out of the chair next to Minerva, and back into his own bed.

Once he had been released, Albus returned often to sit with Minerva, when he wasn't busy with the speeches, appearances, and reassurances that the Wizarding World required. He felt her absence keenly when he sat at the Head Table, presiding over his students, each missing face inflicting new pain. He missed her in his rooms, sitting across from him at the chessboard, her face a picture of intense concentration.

"Minerva," he murmured, stroking her hair as he stood to leave, needed to preside over dinner. "Oh, sweetheart, don't do this. Come back."

Glinda was another regular visitor of Minerva. If she wasn't in the guest room, she could be found in the Infirmary, murmuring quietly to her old friend. People watched her suspiciously, as they had never seen her before, but she ignored them. She rarely went anywhere without the Grimmorie, using what meager magical skills she had to keep it unnoticed. She was afraid of what would happen should it be lost once again. This was the second time Minerva had nearly died.

Glinda emerged from the shadows and took the now empty seat at Minerva's side. "Minerva. Elphie. Please wake up soon." She paused, and leaned closer to whisper to her, "He loves you."

Many others stopped in to see the Deputy Headmistress, but Albus took note of when Miss Granger and Messrs. Potter and Weasley arrived. Glinda had been present as well, and the three students eyed her curiously.

"This is Glinda, a childhood friend of Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore introduced.

Hermione's eyes widened when she noticed what the blonde-haired woman was holding. "That's the book Voldemort was using," she hissed in surprise.

Glinda blinked and looked down at her lap. "Oh dear," she said quietly. "It's worn off again." A few murmured words, and the Grimmorie seemed to blink out of existence.

"Why do you have that?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I am its guardian," she replied. "Minerva charged me to take care of it right before she disappeared."

Dumbledore stood. "Come with me," he said. "I suppose I shall provide you with some of the explanations you have been searching for. Although if you have questions, you will need to ask Professor McGonagall when she awakes."

He gave them a brief explanation, briefer than he had been given at first. The three deserved some sort of explanation, and he was uncertain as to exactly how much she wanted known, no matter how trustworthy the people.


Two and a half weeks after Voldemort's demise, Minerva was completely healed, her magical reserves nearly full, and she still hadn't come out of her coma.

"It was largely because of you that we had the werewolf and vampire allies we did," Albus said to Minerva's peaceful form. "You might protest, but it's true. I don't think you would believe how few wizards and witches see them as anything other than beasts to be feared. But you….You treat them with respect, as equals, and they, in turn, regard you with great respect. I've no doubt that you ignore the many unjust laws when you can."

He stared down at the slender hand he held in his own.

"Now I know why it is so easy for you to treat them just like any other person." He sighed. "You must be disgusted with the Wizarding World. Vampires and werewolves at least appear human. Not like Animals."

Minerva slowly, reluctantly came to, dragging herself out of the darkness of unconsciousness. She was in an unfamiliar bed with someone holding her hand. A sense of déjà vu washed over her. Her eyes fluttered open, and a name escaped her lips.

"Albus?"

He looked up sharply at the whisper and his breath caught in his throat as the sunlight flashed in the witch's eyes, becoming twin pools of emerald fire.

"Minerva," he breathed, but her eyelids had already closed as she fell into a natural sleep. His hand twitched for his wand to alert Poppy before remembering that it would be another week before he was allowed to perform magic. Between the Draining Curse that Minerva had somehow managed to counter and the plethora of highly advanced spells he had used in the duel, his magical reserves had been emptied, and his magical core had gone into shock. So, reluctantly, he left his companion's side to search out the nurse and let her know that her patient had come out of her coma.


"Are you ready?" Minerva asked Glinda, who hesitantly nodded. It was past time for her to return to her world.

Minerva had recovered surprisingly quickly, once she had awakened, and although she tired easily, her magic was back at full strength.

"Are you sure you don't want to keep the Grimmorie?" Glinda asked.

Minerva shook her head. "It doesn't belong here, and I don't need it. I know you'll take good care of it."

"Oh, Elphie," she murmured, blue eyes glittering with tears. "I never dreamed that you had survived, and I'm so glad I was able to find you alive. At least this time I can say good-bye properly. We won't see each other again, will we?"

Minerva shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

Glinda hugged her tightly. "Love you, Elphie. You're the sister I never had. And believe me when I say that you will be happier than you ever thought you could be." Her eyes flicked over to where the Headmaster stood in a corner, out of the way, before holding her childhood friend's gaze. "Let it happen."

Minerva bestowed a rare, albeit sad, smile upon Glinda. "You're like a sister to me as well, Glinda. Galinda. I'm proud of you, and I know you'll succeed in whatever you do." She pressed a large silver chain into the other woman's hand. "I enchanted this. If you can get it onto Morrible, it will bind her magic."

"Thank you," Glinda whispered. "Good bye."

"Good bye," Minerva replied, and began to chant. A wind whipped through the room, spinning around Glinda, who grew fainter and fainter. The moment her form disappeared, the room was once again still and quiet.

"You didn't return with her," Albus said at last, stepping up to face his Deputy.

"There's nothing there for me, Albus," she said. "I'll miss Glinda terribly, and she will miss me, but she doesn't need me. She's lived without me for four years, and I've lived without her for even longer. My family is dead, the Wizard is gone, and the people of Oz are happier for knowing I'm 'dead.' I have been Minerva McGonagall far longer than I've ever been Elphaba Thropp, Wicked Witch of the West."

He drew her close to him. "I am so glad you stayed."

Tell her, the voice of Glinda whispered in his mind, a reminder of the last time he had spoken with her. You must tell her.

"Minerva," he murmured, bringing a hand up to touch her cheek, before moving to cup the back of her head. She watched him in confusion. "Please don't hex me."

And then his lips were touching hers. She gasped, and Albus took advantage of her parted lips to deepen the kiss before reluctantly breaking away, his fingertips lightly stroking her cheek. He gave her a sad, gentle smile. "I have been in love with you for quite a while, Minerva McGonagall."

She stared at him wide-eyed. For the first time he had managed to render her speechless. "When – why…?" she stammered, suddenly very aware of how close he stood.

"I first realized during the first war," he said in that same quiet voice. "And as for why – "

Albus was interrupted by the door opening, and drew back quickly as Harry peered into the room. The teen realized immediately what he had interrupted and shot a quick apologetic look at the Headmaster, silently cursing his timing. He should have been quieter.

"Er…" Harry said awkwardly, "the Minister is looking for you Headmaster. Said it was an emergency. I esca – I mean, went looking for you as soon as I could."

"Thank you, Harry," the older wizard said, and with one last glance at his Deputy, he left.

Harry lingered for a moment. "Are you all right, Professor?" he asked. She was looking rather shaken.

"I'm fine, thank you Mr. Potter," she replied with a wan smile.

He nodded and hesitated for a moment before exiting, closing the door behind him.


"Oh, Glinda," Minerva murmured to herself. "I wish you were here right now."

She sat on a small hill overlooking the lake, leaning back against a birch tree.

I'm no good at this. I don't understand people. I don't even understand myself. How do I know if I love him? Why would he love me?

Minerva sighed. What was it Glinda had said? That she would be happier than she thought possible and to let it happen?

Did you know? she wondered. Did you know Albus was in love with me? And do you think I'm in love with him? There's something there. But it's different than what I felt for Fiyero.

But then, it would be different with Fiyero. Things had begun so quickly and ended so tragically. Perhaps they had been on the way to being in love with each other. They had thought they were in love, anyway. But there had been no time to grow and explore. There had been so little time before Fiyero had been killed.

Minerva tensed when she heard footsteps behind her and turned as she stood. "Remus," she said in surprise. She noticed a burn on the side of his neck. "Hello."

"Hello Minerva," the werewolf said, coming to a stop next to her. He smiled. "It's wonderful to see you doing so well."

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. "I'm glad you made it through this all right."

They both turned to regard the new headstone that stood beneath the birch tree. Minerva knelt and ran her hand over the engraved letters. "Severus never expected to live through this, you know," she murmured. Her hand dropped to her side. "Not many will miss him, but I will. I'll miss our banter."

"We would never have been friends," Remus acknowledged. "But he didn't deserve what life threw at him." He watched her as she got back to her knees, dusting off her robe. "You know," he said. "When I was a student, we all thought you two hated each other."

Minerva grinned wryly and shook her head. "We understood each other. And it must have driven him mad trying to figure out how one such as me could understand one such as him." She glanced idly back at the castle. "Wherever he is, I have no doubt that he is satisfying his abundant…curiosity…." The witch trailed off, and Remus followed her gaze to see her regarding the distant figure of the Headmaster with a curious expression.

"Ah," Remus said, and Minerva glanced at him curiously. "He's told you."

Her silence confirmed it.

"You knew?" she asked at last.

He shrugged. "A lot of people guessed that he was in love with you." The younger man paused. "This upsets you?"

"I don't know," Minerva replied, uncharacteristically apprehensive. She hesitated, but she trusted Remus to be discreet, and she didn't know who else to turn to. "How do I know if I am in love with him?"

Her question surprised Remus. "I don't know if I'm the person to ask about that," he said. "But I think if you are willing to make sacrifices for the other person's happiness and wellbeing, if you cannot see your life without the other person in it, that is a fairly good indication."

"Hmmm." Minerva stared off into the distance thoughtfully.


"I never expected her to reciprocate," Albus confided to Fawkes quietly. He hovered near the phoenix's perch, absently stroking his feathers. "All the same…"

Fawkes chirped sympathetically.

"I am a fool," Albus sighed.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," he called. His eyes widened in surprise at the person who entered. "Minerva?"

His Deputy entered the room quietly, gently closing the door behind her and crossing the room to stand before him. She regarded him silently for a moment.

"I was born with green skin," she stated.

"The color of your skin does not affect who you are," Albus replied quietly. "I fell in love with more than your physical beauty."

This last statement appeared to throw her off. She blushed, averting her gaze, and it took her a moment to regain her train of thought.

"I cannot stand the touch of water," Minerva continued.

"I had guessed," Albus acknowledged. "But now that I know, I can help you avoid water."

"I am half your age, and people are cruel."

"Their talk does not bother me, although I daresay I have had much practice in ignoring them. In my eyes you are my equal; age does not matter."

"You should know then, that I will not live for much longer after you die. The average Ozian lifespan is about the same as that of a Muggle. Wizards and witches live far longer. If we were to convert our ages, you would not be so much older than me, relatively speaking."

"I did not know," he said in surprise.

She inclined her head and continued, "I am not a Light Witch."

"You are not evil, Minerva."

"I have been hated and feared, have killed, imprisoned, and lied."

"You were wrongfully accused by a tyrant, and I know you would only kill in self-defense. You had your reasons for what you did. Minerva, you are good and intelligent, confident, courageous, and compassionate; you have numerous good qualities. I am in love with everything that makes you who you are."

"No one has ever said anything like that to me," she said quietly. She paused, tilting her head to one side thoughtfully. And then she stepped closer to the other man, leaned upward, and kissed him.

Her movement took him by surprise, and he froze before abruptly pulling her flush against his body and reciprocating, the kiss becoming increasingly passionate. Heat spread throughout Minerva's body, and the numbness that resided in her heart, her last defense, melted away. At every point his skin touched hers, sparks of pleasure coursed through her veins. When at last the two broke apart, she was panting, her pulse racing.

"Minerva…?" Albus questioned hoarsely, eyes dark with desire.

"I…I believe that I may be in love with you as well, Albus."

Quite suddenly he was kissing along her jaw and down her throat. She inhaled sharply at the sensations he was causing.

"Stay with me," he murmured along her collarbone.

"Always," she gasped.