Wherever Help is Offered
***WARNING: DH SPOILERS***
Challenge Fifteen: Deathly Hallows Missing Scenes
Title: Wherever Help is Offered
Author: redvelvetcanopy
Wizard/Witch: Aberforth Dumbledore/Minerva McGonagall
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/R
Genre: Romance/Passion
Word count: 1454
DH Chapter: Chapter Two, In Memoriam
Summary: Thrown together by circumstance, Aberforth Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall make the best of it.
Prologue
Albus Dumbledore sat astride a tall stool at the bar of the Hog’s Head Inn enjoying a glass of ale. He smiled and hummed a Christmas tune, Summon a Wizarding Cracker, and Give Me a Bang! softly to himself, tapping out the rhythm on the grimy bar.
As the clock on the bar struck midnight, the barman hollered at a massive, hooded figure in the corner. “Pub’s closed for Christmas! It’ll open back up in two days, ten sharp!”
As the hunch-backed creature stood, it rasped, “Happy Christmas!” and took its leave.
Aberforth waved a wordless goodbye to his customer as the door slammed shut, and then he flicked his wand. A grinding of bolts indicated that the entrance had been locked.
“It would seem, dear brother, that we are still alive for yet another Christmas,” Albus said merrily, raising his glass in a toast.
“Happy Christmas, then,” Aberforth said quietly with a tip of his head. He drained his glass.
“Accio Aberforth’s gift!” A long, gaily wrapped package popped up off the floor and landed on the bar. “I have something for you.”
He grunted and then confessed, “I didn’t get you anything, Albus.”
“I do not expect it.”
“What is it?” Aberforth asked, gesturing to the package.
“It is a bottle of elf-made wine. Master Dobby made it for me. He’s tended the fermentation all year, under the watchful eye of Professor Sprout.”
Pushing his grimy glasses up his nose, Aberforth’s blue eyes twinkled. “I always liked that elf.” He tore off the paper.
“Indeed, as do I.” When Aberforth pulled the bottle from the box and cast an Illumination Charm so that he could inspect it, a glimmer behind the bar caught Albus’ eye. “Aberforth, may I see that?” he asked, gesturing to a small, rectangular mirror.
“Accio Dung’s mirror!” Aberforth caught the mirror and handed it to his brother. “Mundungus Fletcher sold it to me in October. Had a load of goods that looked like he’d nicked ‘em from somewhere.”
“This item included,” Albus remarked, turning the silver mirror over in his hands and stroking a raised crest on the back. “This is the Black family crest. This was Sirius Black’s mirror.”
“Give it to the kid, then. It’s rightly his. I’ll be sure to rough Dung up the next time he comes ‘round.”
“No…. I think I’d rather that you kept this mirror. You may be able to help the Order. You see it’s enchanted….”
~o~O~o~
Not quite one year later, Aberforth Dumbledore placed the mirror on the mantelpiece in his sitting room. He’d tried for weeks to spot Harry Potter in it to ascertain whether he was still alive. Arthur Weasley wanted to be sure that Potter was where he should be. Must be hatching some scheme. Let’s hope none of ‘em get hurt, especially if my brother concocted it before he died, he thought.
He tramped back down the rickety staircase and poured himself a glass of wine. Just as he was about to return to his upstairs sitting room, he heard a scratching at the door. He set down the glass and, wand at the ready, crept to the door, prepared for a Death Eater or dementor.
“Who is it?” he yelled gruffly.
Meow-reow!
Aberforth snorted and magicked the locks, pulling the door open. Quick as wink, a tabby cat slipped in. By the time he closed the door and turned around, the cat had transfigured.
“Good evening, Minerva,” he said, his tone now soft.
Minerva McGonagall removed her tartan scarf and sat primly on a barstool. “Good evening, Aberforth.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He moved behind the bar and summoned a bottle.
“I needed to see you....” Minerva’s words trailed off as she studied his face from across the bar. “I find your company comforting, Aberforth.”
Aberforth poured a measure of Scotch over ice. He pushed it toward her, but she waved it away.
“Thank you, Aberforth, but I’m in the mood for something a bit warmer. That dreadful fog seems to have affected me rather strongly this evening.”
“Evanesco! A toddy then?”
“Yes, that sounds lovely. As I was saying -- ”
“Oh, yes, you find me ‘comforting’, is that right? Come now, Minerva, I might think you’ve taken a fancy to me,” Aberforth teased, trying in vain to suppress a grin, enjoying watching the unflappably calm witch squirm with discomfort.
“I simply mean that in these trying times, we must take comfort in one another.” She gave him a stern look and took the warm goblet he proffered.
“Come upstairs with me, then.” Aberforth stomped away, heading for the door that lead to the stairs.
She choked on her drink and sputtered. “Aberforth! Well! I might say that -- ”
“My intentions are nearly honorable, Minerva. I need to check that mirror. I left it upstairs a moment ago.”
“Oh. The mirror. Why didn’t you say so?” Minerva slid off the barstool to follow, but doubled back to retrieve her goblet.
Once upstairs, Aberforth picked up the mirror. Still nothing. He heard Minerva’s steps on the landing.
“Have you seen him?” she asked.
“No,” he replied grimly. He replaced the mirror.
“You mustn’t take it personally.” Minerva laid her hand on his arm and coaxed him to turn around. “Mr Potter is not yet allowed to do magic outside of school, and so his magical things may well still be packed away.”
“I told Albus I would keep an eye on him. And Arthur is expecting word soon.” Aberforth sat on the worn sofa in front of the fireplace. “Even in death, my brother has me doing his errands.”
Minerva sat next to him and patted his hand. “You mustn’t continue to hold this resentment. We must be strong.”
“Oh, I can deal with the ruddy Death Eaters and dementors,” he said roughly. “It’s just that it’s been years since he included me in his plans.”
“You are quite central to our plans, rest assured.” She studied the side of her goblet for a moment and then cleared her throat. “Given that, Aberforth, I was wondering if you might be interested in deepening our acquaintance with one another. Would you have dinner with me sometime?”
He was pleasantly surprised by the invitation. Aberforth had found that he greatly enjoyed Minerva’s visits, which had become more frequent as the summer wore on. At first, they had comforted one another. She had consoled him on the loss of his brother with whom his relationship had been difficult, at best. He, in turn, had consoled her over the loss of a dear friend and confidant.
A bit wolfishly, he asked, “Do you trust yourself with me?”
She lightly slapped his arm and said, “Of course, Aberforth.”
Staring into her eyes, he found that he suddenly didn’t feel like joking anymore. No, what he wanted to do now was kiss Minerva McGonagall. He leaned forward, watching her lick her lips….
“Lies!”
A loud bellow issued from the enchanted mirror, causing the couple to start. Aberforth jumped up off the sofa and crossed the threadbare carpet in one stride. He peered into the mirror.
“What happened? Is Potter well?” Minerva whispered, coming to stand behind him to peer over his shoulder.
Aberforth tugged his glasses off and brought the mirror closer to his eyes. “I can’t tell.”
Suddenly, a fragment of Harry’s face appeared in the mirror; the boy looked startled. Aberforth gasped and quickly put the mirror face-down on the mantelpiece.
“Yes, it would appear that he’s fine. Why did we only see a part of his face? The outline was jagged.”
“Hmm.” Minerva pondered the question for a moment and said, “Perhaps his mirror has been broken.”
“Do you think he knows we’re watching?”
“No, I don’t think so, though it would depend on how much he saw.”
“I don’t think that Albus would have wanted the kid to know I’m watching him.”
“I agree with you completely on that count, Aberforth.”
The candle on the mantle sputtered, and the girl in the portrait hung on the wall blinked and smiled sweetly at Aberforth as he turned to face Minerva. “The kid’s safe then. I’ll let Arthur know.”
“I can do it. I’ve plans to see him later this evening.”
“Keep yourself safe then, Minerva. I don’t know what I would do to ‘em if they got a hold of you.”
Minerva stroked Aberforth’s stringy, grey hair at his temples and then linked her hands behind his neck. “This cat might have a few years on her, my dear, but I’ve not used up my nine lives yet.”
He chuckled and kissed her softly on the lips as she purred with delight.
Proof-reader: gelsey. Thank you!