In the Light Of the Stars

Snow fell thickly over London. Tony sat near a window, his nose pressed to the glass, gazing out at it in wonder. 'It doesn't do that in San Antonio,' he breathed over and over.

'You'd better go on and put that blackout curtain back over the window,' Reggie told him. 'It's gettin' dark.'

Reluctantly, Tony pushed the curtain back into place, making sure that not even the smallest crack was left to allow light to be seen outside. 'It's Christmas in two more days,' he announced.'

'Worried Santa won't be able to find you in the blackout?' Jack teased.

'Yes,' Tony deadpanned. 'I'm afraid that when I wake up Christmas morning, that shiny red bicycle I asked for from Santa won't be under the tree.'

'We ought to go somewhere,' Jack suggested.

'Where?' Frankie sat up from his position on the sofa. 'Too bad it can't be Paris...'

'Next year,' Jack promised. 'Just out of London. Head over to Ireland or up to Scotland. See something else, besides London and the Underground.'

Frankie scratched his head, considering. 'I hear Dublin's got some good pubs.'

Tony paced the sitting room restlessly. 'Does Minerva have a pass for the holiday, too?'

Jack shrugged. 'I don't know.' He looked up at Tony. 'When do you have to report back to the PIR?'

'Twenty-seventh.' Tony smiled crookedly. 'I almost wish I'd gone through Toccoa with 'em. You hear those guys talk about running up Currahee, and you know they're not going to accept me like this. We haven't even gone into a fight, and I'm no better than a replacement.'

'At least you get to go,' Reggie muttered.

'You could go,' Tony reminded him.

'I ain't goin' as nobody's mess hall attendant,' Reggie snarled. 'And you all know damn well that's they only way I'd get to fight.' He was right. Integrated combat units were still a vision of the future, but as part of the United States Army, they had all gone through basic training. The drill sergeant had been most reluctant to include Reggie, and had to be convinced they were part of an elite operations squad. They, and their compatriots serving in other areas, were officially part of the army, but not assigned to a specific battalion or regiment, and would be sent where they were needed most. Their particular skill sets demanded officer commissions. Still, the sergeant drove them as hard as the enlisted infantrymen. It had been a point of pride for the sergeant that each one them could not only take a rifle apart in total darkness, but reassemble it without making a great deal of noise, then march thirty miles in full gear. Not that they needed it in London, but Tony and Frankie were to begin training with the infantry divisions that were slated to invade France in the new year. When that was supposed to happen was anybody's guess.

Frankie peered at Reggie over the top of the sofa. 'If Eisenhower or Patton says to you, that you're goin' into France, Belgium, or Holland, then you're goin'. Same as the rest of us.'

'You think Hitler takes Christmas off?' Tony asked idly. 'Leaves out cookies and milk for Santa? Asks for England to fall in his letter to Santa?'

'If he does, he's been a verra bad boy this year,' Minerva's tired voice came from the doorway. She dropped her bag to the floor and stumbled to the fireplace, holding her hands out to the dancing flames. 'It's bluidy cold out there, and there isna much in the way of fuel for the fires at Windsor.'

Jack jabbed his wand at the fire, and the flickering bluebell hued flames doubled. 'Poor Minerva,' he murmured sympathetically. 'Had to put Warming charms on your underthings, did you?'

She regarded him seriously for a moment. 'Aye. I did. But they didna last the entire day, and I wasna in a position to recast it.'

Jack blinked. 'I was only teasing.'

Minerva's mouth quirked upward. 'I wasna.'

'Did the Tommies give you leave for the holidays?' Jack asked.

Minerva nodded. 'Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I'm back to Windsor on Boxing Day.'

'What are ya goin' to do?' Minerva looked at Frankie and shrugged. 'When was the last time ya went home?'

'Just last Christmas.' Turning away from the fire, she hooked a hand around the back of a nearby chair and drew it closer, sitting down with a weary sigh. 'When was the last time you were at home?'

'January nineteen forty-two,' Frankie replied promptly.

'That's the last time any of us saw home,' Reggie interjected.

'Come to Scotland wi' me.' The invitation slipped from Minerva's lips before she could examine her motives. 'I canna promise there will be much in the way of holiday cheer, but my da and I can put up a feast of sorts.' The air-raid sirens began to wail. Minerva grimaced and snatched up her bag. 'I can guarantee it will be quiet,' she said over the relentless warning.

Jack hoisted his knapsack over one shoulder. 'I'm in,' he shouted, as they filed out of the house and joined the quickly moving throng of people filing into the Underground.

'Us, too!' Frankie barreled past them, fingers jammed into his ears. 'When do we leave?'

'After breakfast.'

Outside the Chancery Lane station, Jack paused staring up at the clouded skies, waiting, holding his breath. Waiting for the airplanes painted with the white-and-black cross of the Luftwaffe to plunge from the blanket of grey clouds to spread death and destruction amid the falling snow. 'If there is a morning,' he muttered under his breath. None but Minerva heard him. She said nothing, but looked at him strangely before following Tony down the stairs.

xxxxxx

The grey-harled house nestled amongst the crags near Fort William, snow piled against the walls. It would have been picturesque, if it weren't for the charms that blacked out the windows, making them look like gaping holes in the walls. Jack put a hand on Minerva's arm. 'Does your father know you're coming, with all of us in tow?'

Minerva shrugged. 'Doesna matter. He'll welcome ye.'

'Against his will?' Jack shot back.

Minerva's lips pursed impatiently. 'Hospitality. It's a tradition.'

'If you say so,' Jack muttered doubtfully, certain Angus McGonagall was going to make life unpleasant for them. He followed in Minerva's wake as she marched to the door, casually flicking her wand at it. It opened wide, and she sailed inside, gesturing for the four befuddled soldiers to come into the house. They found Angus holding Minerva at arm's length, examining her closely.

'Ciamar a tha thu, a nighean?'

'Tha mi gle mhath, Da.'

'Ye look tired. And too thin.'

'I am all right.'

Tony closed the door behind the group of nervous boys. Angus glanced at them. 'Minerva tells me ye'll be stayin' here for the holiday,' he stated.

'Yes... Yes, sir,' Jack replied with more confidence than he felt.

'Twill be a quiet night, ye ken.'

'We'll take the quiet,' Tony volunteered hastily.

Angus studied the quartet clustered just inside the door. 'Come, then. I'll show ye where ye'll sleep tonight.' He paused at the base of the stairs. 'One of ye will need t' sleep in th' sittin' room.'

'I'll do it,' Jack said, giving the other three a quelling look. If anyone was going to deal with any discomfort the next two days, it would be him.

'I'll bring ye some beddin' down later,' Angus said, then gestured for Frankie, Tony, and Reggie to accompany him up the steep, narrow stairs.

Minerva removed her cloak with a slight swirl and hung it on a hook near the door. 'I hope ye dinna mean to sleep on the sofa,' she said. 'It's murder on ye're back, aye?' She rolled the "r" in murder, comically drawing out the word.

Jack shivered a little. It was much colder in Scotland than it was in London. 'I don't suppose there's coffee anywhere.'

'Ye didna bring any?'

Jack stared at her in disbelief. 'Why would I?'

'Da has tea.'

'Tea?' Jack wrinkled his nose dubiously.

'Ye willna find coffee in this house. Da doesna care for it.

'I guess we're drinking tea, then,' Jack sighed in resignation. Not that they had much coffee to begin with, but they managed to stretch out their ration, only resorting to magic to make the brew strong enough to strip paint from the walls.

'I'll just go put the kettle on, aye?'

Jack doffed his heavy wool overcoat, and hung it on a hook next to Minerva's cloak. 'So what does Christmas look like in the McGonagall house?'

'Endless rounds o' chess wi' Da's prized set,' she replied promptly. 'They got rather more interestin' in the last couple o' years when he started allowin' me to have a wee dram wi' him while we played.'

Aware of how much she was capable of drinking, Jack eyed her. 'What's a "wee dram" in your world?'

'Och, weel, depends on th' length o' th' game, aye?' Minerva told him, deliberately broadening her accent.

'Your dad play as well as you do?'

Minerva smiled enigmatically. 'Who do ye think taught me?'

xxxxxx

Angus opened the case containing his chess set with a small flourish. Reggie leaned closer to study it, picking up a king, holding it to the light. 'The English army?'

Angus plucked it from Reggie's fingers. 'The Duke o' Cumberland. The "Butcher".' He set it on the board.

Reggie nodded. He adored history, both magical and Muggle. 'Culloden.'

'Aye.' Angus quickly set the rest of the pieces, clad in the uniforms of the English army, circa seventeen forty-six. 'His mum, Queen Caroline, Archbishop of Canterbury, officers of the Honeywood's Regiment of Dragoons, the White Tower, infantry...' He drew back a small piece of velvet. 'Prince Charlie, Lady Anne Farquharson-MacKintosh, Archbishop of Glasgow, Sir John MacDonald and Captain O'Shea of Fitzjames' Horse, King James Tower, and members of Cameron of Lochiel's regiment.'

'It's a magnificent set,' Jack said.

Angus swiveled the board around so the English army figures were nearest to Jack. 'Care to play?'

Jack held his hands up surrender. 'I've had the pleasure of being thrashed by Minerva. She tells me you taught her, so I think I'd prefer to save myself the humiliation.'

Angus made a sound deep in his throat. It was at once dismissive and disapproving. 'Minerva, lass?' he offered.

Minerva raised the glass at her elbow to her lips and sipped the amber-hued whisky inside. 'Aye. I believe I shall.'

The boys watched in rapture as Minerva and Angus directed their pieces around the board. One of Angus' pawns captured Minerva's in the first few moves. It was unlike anything they had seen before. The Highland figure drew a large sword from the sheath slung across his back, the massive hilt gripped in both hands. He swung it around in a wide arc, then brought it down on the unfortunate English infantryman, nearly cleaving his torso in half. 'Jesus H. Christ,' Jack breathed in horrified awe. Wizard's chess was rather violent with an ordinary set, but this was far beyond anything he'd ever seen.

For the next several hours, Minerva battled her father in game after game of chess. The rapt fascination from Jack, Reggie, Tony, and Frankie never waned. They cheered when she won, and groaned when she lost. The clock in the sitting room began to chime, and Minerva's head nodded slightly in time with it, counting the sounds. It was midnight. She studied the board, wrinkling her nose to push her glasses up, then nudged her queen into position, and triumphantly retrieved her glass of whisky, taking a sip and rolling the liquid on her tongue before allowing it to slide down her throat, warming her insides. 'Checkmate, Da.'

Angus stared at the board. 'Ye feisty wee minx,' he exclaimed. His long arm reached back to the dresser and snagged the bottle of whisky. He poured more into his glass, then refilled Minerva's and held out his glass. 'Slàinte mhath.'

Minerva raised her glass in a toast. 'Do dheagh shlàinte.' She tossed the whisky back and set the glass on the table with a reverberating thump. 'Happy Christmas to ye.' Warmed by the whisky and the victory, she let herself smile widely and sat back in the chair.

'And to ye as well, a nighean.' Angus waved his wand over the table, and the chess set neatly packed itself into its box. 'Ye played well.'

'Thank ye, Da.'

'Best get to bed, aye?'

Tony gathered the empty glasses and crumb-strewn plates into a stack with his wand and set them to wash. 'That was amazing,' he said to Angus. 'I've never seen anyone play chess like that before. I've also never seen a wizard's chess set go at it like that, either.'

''Tis for pride, lad.' Angus preened a little. 'I'll bid ye good night,' he said to the room, then disappeared up the stairs, with surprising silence for a man his size.

Jack glanced at Minerva, still sprawled in her chair, grinning with smug satisfaction, wisps of hair falling in ripples around her face. Casually, he got to his feet, and sought refuge in the darkened doorway where he could lean against the doorframe and gaze at her as inconspicuously as possible. Minerva wasn't pretty in the usual sense of the word. Some might call her too tall, too thin, too angular. Pretty girls in Jack's experience didn't wear round wire-rimmed glasses that made them look owlish. They had pouty lips that begged to be kissed, not lips that seemed continually pressed into a tense line. Perhaps it was only the whisky talking. Ordinarily, he would not have allowed himself to think about Minerva in that way. Jack glared at Tony, subtlety motioning with his head toward the stairs. 'What?' Tony asked blankly. Jack's eyes widened, and they pointedly moved from Tony to the darkened stairs. 'Oh, right... Yeah. C'mon y'all. Let's get some shut-eye.' He nudged Reggie and Frankie from their chairs and shoved them none-too-gently toward the stairs. Reggie let Tony and Frankie precede him upstairs. He used his elbow to lightly jab Jack.

Keeping his face turned away from Minerva, Reggie whispered, 'Don't do something you're going to regret or that's going to screw anything up.' Jack gave Reggie a questioning look. 'I've been watchin' you all damn night. Sit next to her at dinner, during the chess games. You couldn't stop lookin'. And I dunno if it's 'cause you can't have her. No fraternization.'

Jack's eyes closed in defeat. 'Fine...'

'That's an order, soldier,' Reggie hissed.

Jack's eyes snapped open, and he tossed Reggie a withering stare designed to let Reggie know he'd overstepped his bounds. Even if he was utterly fascinated by Minerva, Jack was still the ranking officer. 'I'm going to bed,' he insisted. 'And you should, too.' He pushed Reggie up the first few risers.

Minerva yawned once more and stretched her arms over her head. 'I ought to go to bed myself.' She pushed herself steadily to her feet. 'I imagine it shall be quite a treat to not worry about air-raid sirens all night.' She edged around the table to where Jack stood in the doorway between the kitchen and staircase. 'I hope you enjoyed watchin' Da and me indulge. We dinna hae the chance as often as we'd like.'

'I did.' Jack stepped back and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers to allow Minerva to move past him to the stairs when she stopped and frowned at something over their heads. He followed her gaze to a small dark green sprig, dotted with tiny white berries. 'Mistletoe.' He grinned impudently at her. 'I guess I'll have to kiss you.'

Her eyes twinkled and she clasped her hands behind her back. With mirth or whisky, Jack didn't know. 'Weel, it's tradition, ye ken.'

'Well. If it's tradition.' Jack bent his head, fully intending to merely brush his lips over hers. But her mouth opened under his, and he could taste the earthy, peaty tones of the whisky she'd drunk on her lips and tongue. He deepened the kiss just a little, waiting for her to respond. And she did. The pressure against his mouth increased and he could feel her breath misting over his cheek. Her tongue danced slowly with his, bringing forth a muted groan in the back of his throat. It was nearly inaudible, but it was enough to break the moment. They were still standing in the same pose as when the kiss had started. Jack's hands were still inside his pockets, and hers behind her back. It had only been the butterfly-light touch of lips and tongue that comprised their contact with one another.

Minerva's eyes were round, her face ashen.

Jack lifted a hand to brush the tendrils of hair from her eyes. She stepped back, her left hand covering her mouth in a gesture of dismay. 'I... I...' Minerva stammered.

He took a small step toward her, but the lamplight glinting on the silver ring she wore on her left hand caught his attention. Rubbing his fingers over his mouth in an attempt to erase the tingling sensation in them, Jack pivoted on one heel, and grabbed his overcoat. He strode out of the door and charged into the drifts of snow.

'Damned if I kiss her while she's thinking of him,' he growled softly.

xxxxxx

The snow blanketed the valley, softening the hard edges of the granite crags surrounding the cemetery tucked amongst towering trees. Minerva used her wand to break a path through the snowdrifts that came up to her knees. It was quiet in the valley. The snow seemed to muffle everything, except for the squeak of the packed snow under her shoes. The fence guarding the inhabitants of the cemetery was little more than irregular poles lashed together with squat stone pillars spaced at semi-regular intervals around the perimeter. She strode through the small opening between the pilings, heading for her mother's grave. She stopped short at the sight of a small, white stone next to Flora's bearing Alasdair's name, with the dates of his birth and death underneath. A leaden weight burned in the pit of her stomach. Shame, perhaps.

Minerva turned away from the newer grave for her mother's. She carefully traced her wand through the air and several thistles twined together and drifted down to drape over the stone, obscuring her mother's name. As she did each time she came to the cemetery, Minerva folded herself down to the ground, chin resting on her knees. She missed her mother dreadfully in times like these. She never could talk to her father about such emotional matters. Minerva couldn't even imagine what her mother would have said. Possibly it was why she normally kept people at arm's length. They were too unpredictable. She couldn't quite explain why she'd become so attached to the boys. Maybe it was the passing nature of their relationship. When the war ended, they would return home to America, and it was highly unlikely she'd ever see them again.

She ran a mittened hand under her nose, sniffling. The cold made it run. Or at least that's what she told herself. Steeling herself, Minerva turned at last to the new headstone, letting herself wonder who had placed it there. 'I thought I'd find ye here,' Angus rumbled from the gate.

'That isna a difficult conclusion, aye?' Minerva glanced over her shoulder.

'Why did ye no' wait for me?'

'I needed to be alone.'

'I had the stone set for ye.'

'Thank you.' Unconsciously, Minerva began to twist the claddagh ring around her finger.

Angus crouched next to her in the snow. 'I've seen th' way Captain Hashimoto looks at ye, lass.'

'Not now, Da...'

'Did ye think he would want ye to remain alone in the wide world?' Angus continued ruthlessly. 'Ye hae a life ahead o' ye, Minerva. Nothing says ye hae to stop your life.'

'I didna stop my life.'

Angus' mouth clamped shut. He was making a mess of the conversation. Discussing matters of the heart was not his specialty. 'I want ye to be happy, a nighean.'

Minerva's head swiveled to face her father. 'And that includes a husband and bairns?' she asked icily.

'Only if ye want. Whatever ye decide, Minerva, I want it to be want you want, and not some sense o' obligation.'

She rested her forehead on her drawn-up knees. 'It feels like betrayal.'

'That's takin' it a bit far, no?' Angus couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice.

'Then why didn't you ever remarry after Mam died?' Minerva challenged, stiff indignation dripping from each syllable.

Angus straightened, brushing snow from his trousers. 'I dinna want ye to emulate my failings, Minerva.' He traced his own wand in the air, leaving a sheaf of wild roses over Flora's gave. 'I pushed too many people away after your mother died. I tried t' tell myself I had you t' raise and didna hae time for it.' He stooped and cupped Minerva's chin in one large palm, forcing her to look at him. 'I'm no' blamin' ye,' he told her firmly. 'Your mam wasna scairt o' me. I didna think there was another woman like her, so I didna try to look. That isna the life ye ought t' have. Ye deserve better.'

The wind rose, picking up tendrils of Minerva's hair, teasing them from their pins. 'There's a war on, Da,' she said dully. 'Mayhap not our war, but we stand to lose what we have. That's what is important now, aye? Nothing else.' She turned her gaze back to Alasdair's headstone, signaling clearly their conversation was over.

xxxxxx

Tony walked into the warm kitchen, adjusting his tie. Jack sat at the table, frowning into a mug of tea. 'You feeling all right?'

'Why wouldn't I be?' Jack all but snarled.

'Tea?' Tony hooked a finger inside the handle of Jack's mug, making it spin around once.

'It's hot, wet, and brown,' Jack sighed gustily. 'And more importantly, it has caffeine. Didn't sleep much.'

'Did you forget to put a Cushioning charm on the floor or the sofa?'

Jack's shoulders hunched inward. 'Uh. Yeah.' If that's what Tony wanted to believe, then he'd let him. He lifted the mug. 'Want some?'

'Sure. Why the hell not? Like you said, it's hot.'

Firm knocks sounded on the thick door. 'Were you expecting anyone?' Jack asked Tony.

'I thought I'd ask -Abuelita- to come make huevos rancheros after we opened presents,' Tony said dryly pouring tea into a waiting mug.

'Funny.' Jack opened the door, revealing a tall wizard, clad in resplendent midnight-blue robes, embroidered with tiny silver stars. Long auburn hair was bound loosely back, and an equally long auburn beard was twined with silver cord with a miniscule bell tinkling on the cord. 'I don't think it's your grandmother, Tony,' Jack said over his shoulder.

'I was looking for Minerva McGonagall.'

Jack gestured toward a copse of trees. 'She's out there.'

'I see.' The wizard looked at Jack over the rims of a pair of half-moon glasses. 'Might I inquire if Angus McGonagall is inside at present?'

Jack propped a shoulder against the doorframe. 'He's with her.'

'Perhaps I could wait inside.'

'Who are you?'

'Albus Dumbledore. I'm the Transfiguration professor at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I've been tasked with instructing Minerva to undertake a course of study.' Jack studied the wizard, gaze sweeping up from the toes of Dumbledore's boots to the top of his head, then stepped aside.

When Minerva and Angus returned to the house, Jack, Tony, Frankie and Reggie sat clustered on one end of the table, eying Dumbledore suspiciously. 'Professor Dumbledore,' Minerva stammered.

'Miss McGonagall. I trust you're enjoying your holiday.'

'I am, sir.' Reggie stifled a snicker at the sudden turn of Minerva's accent into something that more closely resembled the king's cadence he had heard on the wireless than her own.

Dumbledore turned his hand over and a stack of slim books sat in balanced in his palm, impressing even Jack. 'The Minister asked me to bring these to you.' He set them on the table, and made a small motion with his fingers, the books sliding across the table of their own accord.

Curiously, Minerva picked up the uppermost book. 'Animagus theories?'

'In your current line of employ, the Minister feels it would be prudent for you to try and learn how to become an Animagus. Should you succeed, you'll have to register, with the Ministry, of course.'

'Am I the only one?'

'The only I think would be successful.' Dumbledore allowed a small smile to grace his features. 'Even I have not yet managed to bring the process to its conclusion. A conundrum for which I have many hypotheses,' he told her blandly.

'Very well.' Minerva swept the pile of books from the table. 'Have I a set time frame?'

'The end of May.'

'That's only five months!' Minerva protested.

With a nod toward the opposite end of the table, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in Minerva's direction. 'I believe you will have ready assistance in your endeavor.' He rose smoothly to his feet. 'The end of May, Miss McGonagall.'

xxxxxx

A/N:

Ciamar a tha thu, a nighean? - How are you, my darling?

Tha mi gle mhath - I am well.

Slàinte mhath - to your health

Do dheagh shlàinte - to your health as well

Abuelita - grandmother

Huevos rancheros -- fried eggs, served on corn tortillas, and topped with a cooked salsa; very yummy if you can cook it or find a good Mexican restaurant that makes it.