The Cat and the Star

I do not expect my fingers
to graze the sky
(Sappho, Fragment)

Sirius bright tonight. Weather conditions favourable. Orion nebula unusually pronounced.

A knock on the door broke Estella Sinistra out of her concentration.

"Save still and transfer to Astro-Mini-Pensive, June 1996, and resume position," she ordered her collapsible silver Magical Eye telescope. She pushed the Augurey quill and parchment with notes back onto the table, disarmed the wards around her door and called, "Come in!"

The door opened to reveal a slightly out of breath Deputy Headmistress, leaning heavily on her walking stick. She threw an anxious look over her shoulder into the dark corridor before stepping into the room.

"Minerva!" Sinistra shook her head. "Why didn't you call through the fireplace? I'd have come down to your quarters. You really shouldn't climb up to the Astronomy Tower in your state."

McGonagall's mouth thinned.

"I'd appreciate it a lot if I didn't have to hear any further comments on my age and condition, thank you very much. You go hit a young madcap with four Stunning blasts to the chest and see how well he handles it. Just because I don't have the constitution of a bloody Ukrainian Ironbelly doesn't mean I'm already a candidate for the Happy Pixies Old Witches Home!"

Sinistra grinned. She stole the walking stick away from the Deputy Headmistress and urged her down on the narrow divan next to the coffee table after pushing her knitting off the pillow. Then she knelt down in front of her and drew her into an insistent, very thorough kiss. Only when she felt the tension running out of the other woman's body and the rigid lips curving upwards under hers did she let up.

"Better?" she asked with a mischievous smile, and felt McGonagall's answering chuckle against her lips.

"You're devious," she complained.

"You love me for it." Sinistra's smile deepened. "You weren't at the Leaving Feast, but I heard that your last-minute evening out of points secured Ravenclaw the House Cup. The poor dears were ecstatic. It'll give little Lovegood a nice popularity boost."

McGonagall sighed and leaned back against the headrest.

"I walked right into Potter and Malfoy going at it again when I came back, with Severus egging them on, of course. It made me so tired I went straight to bed."

"So you haven't had tea yet?"

The Deputy Headmistress shook her head.

Sinistra snapped her fingers and waited for the characteristic *pop* before ordering,

"Fizzle, get us a tea tray from the kitchens." Her house-elf bowed, over-large ears brushing the floor in the process, and wadded the corner of her lace-embroidered Hogwarts pillowcase between long, knobbly fingers. Sinistra gave her friend a calculating glance. "And throw in a dish of sardines and some cinnamon scones, will you?" The little elf disappeared as McGonagall chuckled.

"You won't ever let me live that down, will you?"

"Nope. You slunk around me begging for sardines for weeks, and then transformed and nearly took my head off for loudly entertaining the possibility that you belonged to Mrs Norris' litter."

"That was a mortal insult!"

"Well, yes," Sinistra admitted.

She turned at another *pop* and told Fizzle to set down the heavy tray she'd brought on the couch table. After surveying its contents critically, she waved her elf off.

"That'll do nicely. You may retire for the night."

The little elf retreated, leaving a wide berth around Sinistra's discarded knitting. Why Fizzle had developed an aversion to all things woollen over the semester remained a mystery to the Astronomy professor. She'd thought about researching it, but HOUSE-ELF PSYCHOLOGY: A BEGINNER'S GUIDE FOR THE UPWARDLY MOBILE WIZARD was on what seemed to be a continuous loan from the library.

She poured tea and shoved the tray towards McGonagall.

"Eat. St Mungo's food is rumoured to be even worse than our meat-and-pumpkin juice diet downstairs."

McGonagall liberally lathered three scones with clotted cream and raspberry jam, and took a large bite out of the first.

"It's so good to be back, and to have the place rid of that godawful Umbridge," she said, and swallowed another bite. "Bitch!"

"Why, Tabby, if your students could hear you!" Sinistra chuckled. "Not that I don't fully agree, of course."

"Did that toad-faced creature give you a lot of trouble during your..." McGonagall sniffed disdainfully, "...your 'inspection'?"

Sinistra curled her lip. "Not really, no. I told her that yes, some of Dumbledore's appointments had frankly surprised me, that I had worked for the Carville Wizarding Observatory in Armagh, that inspecting so many different teachers must be so demanding, and then I sent her off with my best wishes to her brother."

McGonagall frowned. "In effect, you sucked up to her."

Sinistra sighed and patted the other woman's cheek.

"You'll never learn, Tabby. Slytherin isn't about ingratiating yourself - it's about manipulation. First I put her off the defensive by implying I wasn't in bed with Dumbledore. Then I made clear that I had credentials she could not just brush aside. And finally, I let slip that I had dirt on her family she would not want to become common knowledge around the school. Benjamin Umbridge was a Ravenclaw in my year. He went into potion-making after school, and was convicted of selling Class-A-Non-Tradable potion ingredients and hallucinogens on the side."

"Disgraceful. Was he involved with the Death Eaters?"

"Minerva, it was the Seventies, even in the magical community. No one needed an excuse to whip up interesting potions. And don't give me that disapproving look. I've seen you after getting into the catnip."

A slight flush appeared on McGonagall's cheeks, before a chuckle broke free. She pulled the plateful of scones closer and made them disappear in quick succession, interspersed with the occasional sardine. Sinistra shuddered delicately behind her cup, but refrained from commenting. At last, the Deputy Headmistress leaned back with a sigh of content, a tail of fish still dangling from her fingers.

"Thanks! I really needed that."

Sinistra grinned and waved her wand. "Well, consider it blackmail, Tabby. I have designs on your virtue, after all. Accio hairpins!"

A dozen or so curved hairpins extricated themselves from McGonagall's tight bun and surged into Sinistra's hand. McGonagall clicked her tongue reproachfully as her hair came down around her shoulders.

"You Slytherin types stop at nothing!"

Sinistra conjured a silver brush and curled up on the divan behind her friend, feet tucked underneath her. Strand after strand, she began to brush out the long black-and-silver hair, stopping only occasionally to massage the spots where the pins had pinched the older woman's scalp. McGonagall sighed blissfully and Sinistra felt calmness seep into the body under her hands.

"So are you going to bring charges against Umbridge for assault?" she asked after a few minutes of peaceful combing. "She had absolutely no excuse for attacking Hagrid - he didn't even know he was about to be dismissed, and I still can't believe that they dared to hex you. Between you and him, you could get the bitch locked away for quite some time."

The Deputy Headmistress shrugged and craned her neck to offer the left side of her head to the brush.

"Albus and I agreed that it was best not to stir things up with the Ministry." She snorted contemptuously. "Of course it took seeing You-Know-Who standing right on his bloody front door for Fudge to come around, but he'd go right back into defensive mode if we looked like we're trying to challenge his pathetic excuse for authority. And we have bigger fish to fry." McGonagall's mouth curled in a very sinister grin. "Thinking of Lucius Malfoy and his disgusting cronies in Azkaban makes me feel all warm inside."

"Oh." Sinistra let her hands wander down to caress her friend's throat. "And here I hoped that was me! Really, I know the man is lower than Bundimun spawn, but if he doesn't manage to politick himself out of Azkaban again, I'm not a Slytherin."

"You sound as if you're admiring that monster!"

"Not him - his cunning."

McGonagall snorted in a thoroughly unladylike fashion.

"Cunning or not, he's buried in Azkaban now. Fudge really can't afford to let him out this time, no matter how much money Malfoy throws around. If we made public what we know about the Umbitch and her Dementor stunt, Fudge would be ruined. He even promised there would be 'disciplinary measures', whatever that might be worth."

"The bitch can be grateful that you weren't seriously hurt," Sinistra hissed. "If you had been, I'd have hunted her down and tried my hand at the Greater Evisceration Curse!"

"Don't joke about the Dark Arts!" McGonagall pulled a face and shuddered. "You don't know that curse, do you?"

"I read up on it just for this occasion," Sinistra replied darkly. "And I was not joking." She paused before adding, "Of course, Dumbledore could have spared himself and all of us the whole misery if he'd just given the Defence post to Snape and hired some halfway competent Potions master. Only Defence seems to be jinxed after all, and I'd pity the poor hex that would try and raise its little head to our Severus."

McGonagall propped herself up on an elbow.

"I agree with Albus in this, Stella. Severus would not be a wise choice for the Defence position."

"Why? Because he might actually be competent, unlike most of what Dumbledore dragged in before him? Or do you really think he'd use the job to curse the students left and right?"

A slightly affronted look passed over McGonagall's face.

"Of course not! He's a good man, and an excellent Potions master," she said. "But he's unable to suppress his prejudices, and you know it. Defence Against the Dark Arts is one of the cornerstones of Hogwarts' curriculum, perhaps the most crucial thing the school teaches. If we lose a handful of students in a lesser subject like Potions, that's one thing - but to have Defence classes full of terrified Longbottoms... we can't afford that."

Sinistra buried her face in the soft, short curls below her friend's ear. Trust Minerva to come up with a rational explanation to underscore her prejudices, like a true Slytherin.

"I know," she grumbled in a muffled voice. "It's just that I can imagine how hard it must be for him to watch imbeciles like Quirrell and Lockhart and Umbridge fumbling with a subject he knows more about than anybody who's held the post in the last ten years."

"You care about him a lot, don't you?"

"Well, us reptiles have to stick together," Sinistra said lightly.

"Sometimes I wish Albus had chosen a less confrontational head of house for Slytherin," McGonagall sighed. "You never told me why you didn't try for it. You're Severus' senior - aren't your type supposed to be ambitious?"

"Oh, oh no!" Sinistra shook her head forcefully. "My ambitions go in another direction entirely, and I like the towers, thank you very much. And I prefer to display a certain amount of objectivity. I could never do for Slytherin what Severus is doing."

"He's letting them get away with everything!" McGonagall's lips tightened. "Malfoy was making death threats to Potter this afternoon, and Severus was ready to take points off Potter for it!"

Sinistra fought a twinge of annoyance. House politics was one of the few topics that had serious potential for trouble, and she really didn't want to go there. But then, there was the looming spectre of house loyalty...

"Well, Tabby, perhaps he remembers that in his time Gryffindors actually tried to murder him, and then he lost points for being out of bed that night..."

A dark flush crept over McGonagall's neck.

"That's not..." She broke off with something akin to a sob. Sinistra stroked her cheek gently, berating herself for touching on the Black issue so soon after the malicious git's death.

"Not fair, I know. But it's still something Slytherin house won't forget any time soon. You can't really blame Severus for his attitude. He's evening out the Quidditch pitch, nothing more."

"Oh come, Stella, you can't honestly believe that giving in to every whim of those little horrors is going to make them better human beings in any way." McGonagall raised herself up on one elbow, sneakily pulling her attendant down on the couch to glare at her sternly. "Just think of how they tormented poor Ronald Weasley at Quidditch, and the boy having no self-confidence as it is."

"Well, I can't see much difference between that and Gryffindor's Jordan using his microphone to put down the Slytherin team every step of the way," Sinistra replied with a sardonically raised eyebrow.

McGonagall glared. "I have taken points off him for that, and put him into detention as well!"

"But you don't put a stop to it - not that I think you should, but my house isn't one to take things like that lying down." If Gryffindor wanted to dish out, they should bloody well be able to handle the consequences. Sinistra grinned up at her lover insolently. "And I can't see you handing the microphone over to Malfoy's brat because he rhymes so nicely."

McGonagall scrunched up her nose.

"You've seen how they rallied around that... Umbridge... just to settle their scores. It was-"

"Disgusting, I know," Sinistra admitted. "But I can see why they did it. They have no chance in the system, so they try to get power from wherever else it's offered to them. Nasty, but logical."

"Stella, I'd be the first to advocate more inter-house cooperation, but you can't tell me that Slytherin's role as the odd house out isn't self-inflicted!"

"It's both," Sinistra replied thoughtfully. "But even when the Sorting Hat warned us - and I do believe it was more right than ever - it still played to the established stereotypes: three noble Founders, and one deranged, prejudiced Dark Wizard."

"Slytherin was so mad he bred a monster in the dungeons to slaughter Muggleborns," McGonagall objected forcefully.

"I'm the last to jump onto the anti-Muggle bandcarpet, Minerva," Sinistra replied, "but Salazar had a very good point about the danger of accepting Muggleborns. Muggles were burning each others to cinders left and right for imagined acts of witchcraft in his time - one severe breach of secrecy, and we would have had a war on our hands, despite all the cute stories about Wendelin the Weird and her ilk."

She ignored the exaggerated way in which the Head of Gryffindor rolled her eyes - they'd had it out about Hogwarts' selective approach to wizarding history all too often before.

"Salazar wasn't a nutter-" Noting McGonagall's incredulous expression, she sighed and threw a hand up. "Well, perhaps he was a handful of Gobstones short of a set, but he still deserves better than what Hogwarts has done to his reputation." She paused for a moment. "And the same goes for Severus, even though I have to agree that his bat out of hell attitude has a certain... amusement value."

McGonagall blushed a little and lowered her lids in a highly unconvincing attempt at feigning innocence. Sinistra grinned and tapped her on the nose.

"I know it was you who gave him that bottle of Lockhart's Lustrous Locks Lotion for Christmas last year, don't try to deny it." Sinistra grinned. "He's still as hell-bent on putting the culprit in detention for a year as he is on getting the Defence position." She paused, and added quietly, "And what we want and what is good for us is not always the same thing."

The Deputy Headmistress threw her a shrewd look over a tartan-clad shoulder. "Am I to take that as an underhanded comment on your fascination with me, dear?"

Sinistra deftly undid two buttons to push the blouse off the shoulder she was eyeing, and replaced the fabric with her lips.

"Well, you know what they say about animal attraction..."

McGonagall swatted her playfully. "You would blame me!"

Sinistra grinned up at her. "That reminds me of an appointment of our Headmaster's I approve of very much... A brilliant mind for Astronomy, young Professor Firenze, and quite a hit with the female students. Of course he holds views on wizards like those loons from the Araminta Black Foundation have about Muggles, but I'm sure we'll be able to cure him of it. It must be horrible for him - that poor young centaur, all alone, separated and cast out by his own kind, and so bright..."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You would not consider seducing the poor thing just to get him to share his Astronomy knowledge, Stella. That's so... unethical you shouldn't even joke about it!"

"Ah, but he's so cute and brilliant..." Sinistra received another slap and fell back into the cushions with a sardonic giggle.

"For someone who's not serious about me, you can be pretty jealous."

Which, Sinistra realised only too clearly, was nothing but wishful thinking. Trust Minerva to completely ignore her waffling about Snape and Firenze, and go on about morality.

McGonagall reached out to touch her shoulder, her eyes turning solemn.

"You know how much I care about you, Stella. Does it really bother you so much that I'd rather not have our... relationship made public?"

Sinistra leaned in to deliver a quick peck to her lips.

"I was winding you up, love," she lied. "The Sinistri have long since come to terms with the fact that I won't make a prestigious marriage - I don't need "I'm clandestinely shagging Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress" as an excuse to keep them out of my hair." She paused and tilted her head contemplatively. "Although it could be worse - at least I picked someone who wields influence. They'd be much more disapproving of pretty Professor Firenze." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder what bothers you more, that you're sleeping with a woman, or with a Slytherin."

"You know how I feel about romances among the staff," McGonagall protested. "I don't want to give anyone reason to suspect I'd be favouring you. Not that I would," she added, "but the rumour would do harm to both of us."

As if it were all that secret, Sinistra thought with a considerable degree of sarcasm. She'd caught sight of Snape's sardonically lifted eyebrow when he'd watched them chatting at dinner, or the knowing glimmer in Hooch's sharp eyes when they sat together during Quidditch matches, and Flitwick's cheerful smile that always seemed to beam a bit brighter when he saw them together. Then again, Flitwick always looked cheerful. And Dumbledore... of course Dumbledore knew everything that was going on at Hogwarts.

Sinistra caught a long strand of hair and wound it around her fingers until she had roped in the other woman closely enough for their noses to brush.

"You deserve a shred of a private life, Minerva," she insisted, and a tingle of anger trickled into her voice.

"Sometimes I feel guilty about how little I have to offer to you. I'm not a young woman any longer." McGonagall grimaced and rubbed her chest unconsciously. "Bugger, I'm not even a middle-aged woman any longer. What can you possibly want from this?"

"What a Gryffindorish question, Tabby! Slytherins don't ask what they want - they ask what they can get. And I'll take what I can get, never fear." She gave McGonagall a toothy grin and a kiss to the nose. "And since I doubt I could talk you into a threesome with Willa Grubbly-Plank any time soon, you and I sounds just fine," she added.

McGonagall shuddered and swatted her again, before reaching out to wrap an arm about Sinistra's neck and leaning in to kiss her thoroughly.

"Since your mind is back on the beaten track," she whispered in a low voice against Sinistra's neck, "how about transferring to the bed?"

Sinistra sighed languorously. "Are you certain you're up to that after your spat in St Mungo's?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed.

"If you keep treating me like an invalid, I'm going to get dangerous."

Sinistra's eyes opened wide in mock horror.

"Does that mean we can play stern headmistress and naughty student? We could put that walking stick of yours to some use!"

McGonagall flushed a dark, fiery red and moaned with embarrassment.

"Sometimes, Stella, I really wonder why I put up with you," she murmured, palm pressed against her forehead to hide her colour.

"Your subconscious likes being trapped in the Slytherin den of sin." Sinistra grinned and looked around at her almost-austere quarters. Then she laughed out loud and grabbed McGonagall's hand away from her face to kiss her. "Or maybe not." She rose and pulled up the Deputy Headmistress with her. "Bedroom it is, then."

Hand in hand like schoolgirls, they walked over to the bedroom, and then Sinistra stopped halfway, manoeuvring McGonagall's back gently against the doorjamb, trapped her there with a hand on her shoulder, and kissed her again. They remained there for long minutes, passing lazy kisses between them, before making it inside the room, and to the bed.

Orion was shining on the inside of the canopy just as it was outside in the sky, because Sinistra loved to sleep under the stars and was quite good with that charm - the ceiling of the Great Hall was a tribute to her abilities. She unspelled the canopy before pulling Minerva down with her, and surrendering her wand onto the nightstand. Sleeping under the stars meant freedom, but she wasn't looking for freedom in Minerva's arms.

Sinistra reached out and caught a smudge of raspberry jam at the corner of her friend's mouth. She wiped it off gently and stuck the finger in her mouth, closing her eyes to enjoy the fruity sweetness, lips curving upward around the sticky digit. She heard cloth rustle, and then arms went round her neck, and the scent of jam, cinnamon and Minerva's familiar pine needle shampoo enveloped her like a protective bubble. Eyes still closed, she reached out for the woman's face, feeling lips against her wet finger, and the warm brush of a tongue that licked the remaining trace of raspberry off it. Then it abandoned the finger to slide over her lips to search for more of the taste in her mouth, slowly for a moment, and then not carefully any more at all.

Sinistra abandoned herself to Minerva's mouth and hands for a few long moments, and when she heard a murmur at her ear it was like floating back to the shore on a warm wave of the tide.

"You came to see me at St. Mungo's, the Healers told me." McGonagall detached her lips from the hollow of Sinistra's throat and looked down at her with an unreadable expression.

"Yes, well, someone from the faculty had to find out what had happened to you." Sinistra shrugged. "And my classes are at night, so I had the afternoon off."

The probing gaze did not falter.

"Thank you," Minerva said simply.

"I didn't stay - the Healers said you weren't going to wake up any time soon. I would have been useless."

"Thank you," the older woman repeated, and stroked Sinistra's cheek with a tenderness that made her shudder inside.

I should have taken Grand-Aunt Cornelia's advice, Sinistra thought bitterly. She always insisted that a woman's most prudent course of action lay in a lucrative and illustrious marriage, and emotional attachments be damned. Or if there had to be emotions, in making sure to be the one who could walk away from them unscathed.

Then their eyes met, and the wicked, almost kittenish predatory glint in Minerva's gaze sent a shudder through Sinistra's whole body as she allowed herself to be urged flat on her back amidst the eiderdown pillows. Minerva smiled down at her like a cat flattening itself against the ground before pouncing on a jittery rodent. It was that look which haunted Sinistra, a look that made its recipient feel like the centre of a galaxy, like the very heart of someone's universe. The very look that had made her throw Great-Aunt Cornelia's sage advice to the winds and would provoke choice comments from the heartless old bitch if she knew.

Sinistra arched under the firm hands that stroked up and down her skin from neck to thighs, and sighted blissfully, only to have the breath catch in her throat when the stroking fingers detoured.

Being made love to by Minerva was like drowning, Sinistra thought as she rested deep in the cushions, her lids so heavy she was half inclined never to open them again. It left her reduced to the mere essence of impulses, and filled with a bone-deep languor that made thinking a challenge, and moving an impossibility.

But tonight Sinistra was not inclined to let Minerva get away with playing alone - the Deputy Headmistress was so rarely caught in a position of weakness, and Sinistra was going to make the most of this opportunity. She propped herself up on one elbow, with some effort and a very lazy smile.

Minerva squirmed a little under Sinistra's attentive eyes. Sinistra was only too aware that being looked at like that, without the protection of clothing and authority, unnerved Minerva, reminded her of her age, of its imagined imperfections, of all the should-nots Sinistra knew haunted her lover's thoughts. Sometimes she wondered if that reluctance to be looked at was a remnant of her friend's carefully hidden half-Muggle parentage, together with the touch of fragility that made her more vulnerable than a pureblooded witch of her age might be. It wasn't something that would occur to someone who only saw the shield the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts projected over herself, which radiated stern, powerful competence. That was, Sinistra realised, what unnerved McGonagall so much about her momentary weakness and her colleagues' fussiness.

She leaned over Minerva's body to inscribe a wet circle around one rough nipple with her tongue, lightly stroking the bony hip she was pressing up against.

Minerva made a breathy sound, somewhere between approval and mute protest, and Sinistra admired the line of her throat as she threw back her head into the pillow. From this angle, her chin looked almost as pointedly triangular as that of her Animagus form. Sinistra grinned to herself and quickly ran her tongue over the triangle.

Sometimes she wondered whether Minerva was just humouring her, and deep down felt guilty about spending precious time - however little of it - making love instead of using it to further the cause of Dumbledore and Hogwarts elsewhere.

It was this thought, and the fact that she just loved to observe Minerva without her armour, that made Sinistra prolong her lazy exploration of the body under her mouth and hands.

She buried her face against Minerva's belly, inhaling the scent of arousal, a touch of sweat, and underneath it the smell of clean, wind-swept cat fur that was uniquely the other woman's own.

A twisted, painful surge of emotion welled up in Sinistra's chest at the familiarity of it, an urge to sink in claws and hold fast against the unbearable fear of losing.

Sinistra wormed her fingers up her lover's body, staring into her flushed, sweaty face, and twisted them almost viciously. Minerva gasped and clutched at her shoulder before again throwing her head back and shivering, with a contorted expression on her face that was almost agony.

It took over a minute for her to regain her breath.

"Stella, what-"

"You scared me!" Sinistra hissed, in a strangled voice, lips hovering closely over Minerva's. "When I saw you in that bloody hospital bed I was so afraid it almost ripped my heart out. If you had been awake I would have strangled you."

Minerva clasped her hands very gently.

"Just because I don't say it doesn't mean it's not there."

Sinistra threw her arms around Minerva's body with the frantic urgency of despair, and crushed the older woman's lips under hers with near-violence, smothering all the words she could not say - I love you, if you left I'd fall down bleeding, if you died I couldn't go on - and she wound cheerfulness around them like a ball of wool for a kitten to play with, keeping its raw cut ends hidden deep inside.

McGonagall closed her arms around her and held her tightly, indulgently, and finally laid Sinistra's head to rest against her shoulder. Sinistra pretended to go to sleep on that spot, and listened with closed eyes as her lover's breaths went deep and regular. It was a tribute to Minerva's exhaustion, she knew that well. The Deputy Headmistress preferred to return to her own rooms within a decent time limit to avoid gossip. The sight of her, relaxed, asleep with a film of sweat still on her forehead and the ghost of a smile tugging on the corner of her mouth was a rare gift.

Sinistra carefully lifted her head from Minerva's shoulder and snuggled up against her arm instead. It still left her enough room to study her friend's face through near-closed lids. Lying there together almost felt like being the masters of their own little realm, not hidden away in a tower room at Hogwarts for a few borrowed hours. They could be good together, Sinistra knew, if they ever got the chance.

Minerva McGonagall would make an excellent Headmistress once Dumbledore gave up the position because of age, or war. And when it came to filling her shoes, Sinistra thought that perhaps she wouldn't make such a bad deputy herself...

Apart from McGonagall, who collected responsibilities like other witches collected Witch Weekly beauty charms, it was unusual for a head of house to double as Deputy Headmistress. Not to mention that Severus was too 'controversial', Flitwick content with chairing his various school societies, and Sprout plainly not interested in the position. Hagrid was an administrative zero, Rosetta from Ancient Runes would be busy with her comprehensive cuneiform study for the next twenty years, and the Muggle Studies person was so nondescript even his colleagues tended to forget his name. That left Walther Vector as her sole competitor for the position, and Sinistra knew how McGonagall disapproved of his unabashed womanising in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley - even in Knockturn Alley, some rumours implied. And there had been an incompletely hushed-up scandal involving him and that seventh-year Slytherin Florence Farr about fifteen years back... If she nudged Minerva's mind in that direction a little bit further...

McGonagall's subconscious seemed to override her exhaustion even in her sleep, because she stirred after no more than an hour. She stretched, an unabashedly cat-like movement, and lifted an eyebrow when she noticed Sinistra's eyes trained on her.

"We didn't have much time together this term, did we?" she asked.

"Not really, no. With all the trouble with that horrid bitch, and Dumbledore's Order business..."

McGonagall looked up. "Are you angry that I didn't ask you to join us?"

"No. Honestly, I'm not. I'll stand with you against You-Know-Who as firmly as anybody when the time comes, but I'm not one for Dumbledore's cloak and dagger games with the Death Eaters."

"That's a really inappropriate comparison!"

"Don't get me wrong, Tabby - we couldn't have a better leader against Voldemort, but sometimes I wonder about his qualities as Headmaster."

"Albus is the most powerful Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had," McGonagall protested vehemently. "He saw through Riddle the first time round, and then turned Hogwarts into the one sanctuary of the wizarding world during his terror..."

"Undoubtedly," Sinistra agreed. It wasn't as if she harboured any ill-will against the Headmaster. She wished him all the best when he finally retired and took up a life of sampling sweets, phoenix-breeding or lecturing on 'How I Defeated Grindelwald, Manoeuvred the Boy-Who-Lived into Killing Voldemort and Remained an All-Around Loveable Person Nonetheless'. "I just sometimes wish that extracurricular Potteresque heroics wouldn't feature so prominently in the House Cup."

McGonagall rubbed her forehead tiredly. "Why do all of you Slytherins so hate the poor boy?" she sighed.

"Hate?" Sinistra shook her head. "I don't hate him - I don't like his recklessness, and the way the Headmaster singles him out, even though I can see why he would want to make up for the fact that he plans to send him off to battle You-Know-Who any time soon." She paused and frowned, recalling the past school year. "Although the way Dumbledore treated him this year was disgraceful, with the boy practically begging for the smallest sign of acknowledgement."

McGonagall's face scrunched up, as if in pain.

"I tried to make it up to him!" she whispered dejectedly. "I really tried. But Albus was right, it would have been far too dangerous to have him know, with You-Know-Who listening in through him..."

"I know you did." Sinistra stroked her cheek gently. "But it's not just that. He should have put his foot down before that... slug was ever able to stretch out her feelers into Hogwarts. He's the man who frightens bloody He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he let a creep like Fudge badmouth him? He should have threatened to challenge him to a Wizard's duel. Just imagine how fast that'd have shut him up."

"He's not that kind of person!" McGonagall looked properly horrified. "If we turn to intimidation like that, what'll make us better than You-Kno... than Voldemort?"

And of course you love him, was on the tip of Sinistra's tongue, but she swallowed it. Minerva would sell her soul and give her life for Dumbledore, but she'd never entertain the possibility that such degree of devotion might blind her to the man's faults. This way lay danger, and Sinistra knew better than to walk it.

Her rational mind hated You-Know-Who for throwing them right back into the war again, but a part of her hated Dumbledore just as much for endangering Minerva's life with his mere existence. She could see her lover walk into this war for Dumbledore like happy canon-fodder, and the people who acted out of blind loyalty, especially Gryffindors, tended to end up dead.

But that, of course, she could never voice aloud without shattering the fragile peace between them. So she just leaned over to kiss the tip of Minerva's nose, and said, before the other woman could bring it up, "So would you like to sleep here, or do you plan to go back to your rooms?"

McGonagall yawned, showing small, pointed canines.

"I guess I should go back - I bet there will be students looking for me tomorrow, asking for hints about set books, or homework assignments, and I should better be around then."

She sat up on the bed with a heavy sigh, rubbed her aching ribs and reached for her blouse and tartan robe. It was good that Animagi transformed with their clothing, Sinistra thought, not for the first time. Otherwise McGonagall's Transfiguration display for the third years would give cause for rumour indeed.

Sinistra suffered her farewell embrace and then watched her friend's shape shrink and dissolve into a lithe, furry shape, silky tail, delicate triangular ears. The small tabby circled her feet and rubbed her head against her ankles one last time before it bounced out of the door and slunk towards the spiral downward staircase, inconspicuous shades of grey melting into the grey stone walls.

When the last speck of fur had disappeared, Sinistra closed the door behind her, rearmed her wards, and made her way back to the bed, bare feet flinching on the icy floor. She sat down on the mattress and pulled up the coverlet, inhaling the familiar scent and repeating to herself, like a mantra, that she was Slytherin.

She remembered Snape, deadly pale, shivering and dry-eyed after one of his nightly excursions into the Dark Lord's realm, and, only the previous day, young Malfoy's tearless raging as Snape told him that his father had been taken to Azkaban.

She pulled the coverlet tightly around her body, lay down again, and did not cry.

~ finis ~