In the Light Of the Stars

Septimus Weasley studied the young woman sitting on the hard straight-backed chair. She wore drab Muggle clothing, hair in tangled disarray, soot streaking her face. She stared straight ahead, unblinking. He could hear a man's urgent tones coming through the partially-open door of the Head Auror's office. Septimus wondered what had happened to her. Bernard Aubrey, the Auror Head, walked out with the American wizard Septimus had seen about the Ministry, wearing the uniform of one of the American Muggle armed forces. Septimus normally paid Muggle politics little mind, but even he couldn't stay blissfully unaware of the war raging on the Continent. 'We need a place to stay,' Jack persisted. 'In London.'

'Why does it have to be London?' Aubrey asked in bemusement.

'Because we stand out less in London than we would anywhere else,' Jack sighed. 'Nobody is going to give Reggie or me a second look here.' He ran a hand over his face, smudging the traces of soot over his cheeks. 'Well, not much of one, at any rate.'

'It will take a few days to organize something,' Aubrey said stiffly.

'Where do you propose Minerva and I sleep until then?'

'She has a house in Scotland.'

Jack refrained from punching the older man in the nose, unable to comprehend how someone could be so insensitive. 'I don't think she'll want to stay there,' he said in an undertone.

Septimus spoke up. 'They could stay with us. Cedrella and I have all those empty bedrooms.'

Two heads turned simultaneously and gazed at the welcome intrusion of their conversation. 'Where do you live?' Jack asked brusquely.

'Ottery-St.-Catchpole,' Septimus said. 'Small village in Devon,' he added at the blank look that crossed Jack's face. 'My house has four bedrooms and only two of them are being used at the moment. I'm certain my wife won't mind.' Septimus glanced at the young woman, sitting so still in the chair, eyes locked on something they couldn't see. 'And it's quiet,' he said softly, leaning closer to Jack. 'Pardon my saying so, but the young lady looks as if she might need a few days of quiet.'

Jack spared a glance for Minerva and nodded. 'Yeah.' He held out a grimy hand, surprised when Septimus grasped it and shook it firmly without hesitation. 'Jack Hashimoto. Before the war, I was an Auror.'

'Septimus Weasley. Accidental Magic Reversal Department.'

Jack tilted his head toward Minerva. 'Minerva McGonagall. She's part of the rotation of witches that guard the Queen.' He paused and lowered his voice even more. 'Her father's just been killed by one of the German bombs...'

'I can hear ye,' came a clearly irritated voice behind them.

Jack turned to find Minerva glaring at him like the angry cat she could be. He started guiltily and pressed his lips together. 'Do you mind staying with him?'

Weariness etched itself over Minerva's face and she shook her head. 'Ye're right. I couldna go... Home...'

'I'll just go collect my things,' Septimus said quickly. 'Then I'll take you to the Burrow.'

'Thanks,' Jack said sincerely. He took the chair next to Minerva and looked down at his hands. Deep gouges streaked across the backs of them. He had attempted to drag her away from Angus' body and she had fought him tooth and nail. 'Reggie's going to be all right,' he murmured. 'He's in that hospital of yours...'

'St. Mungo's.'

'Yeah.'

They sat silently until Septimus returned to the office. 'I thought I might Side-Along you,' he said cautiously. 'I imagine you might not care for the Floo just now.'

'That's all right.' Jack stood and held out a hand to Minerva. She stared at it a moment before taking it. She retrieved the small case that traveled with her between London and Windsor and joined Jack next to Septimus. At her nod, Septimus led them down the corridor and held out his arm. Minerva and Jack each grasped it tightly and Septimus began to turn. Jack held his breath, not daring to breathe until the mutters of the Ministry and been replaced by the sounds of birds twittering in the trees.

Septimus gestured to a tall, crooked house. 'I'll take you inside. Dinner won't be ready for a bit, so you'll have time to wash...'

'I appreciate you doing this for us,' Jack told him.

'It's not a problem at all,' Septimus reassured him.

A small, red-headed boy pelted down the slightly overgrown garden. 'Daddy! Daddy!'

Septimus knelt with his arms spread wide. 'Nattie!' He swept the little boy up, nuzzling his bright flyaway hair. Septimus touched his forehead to his son's. 'Would you like to meet someone? Mr. Hashimoto, Miss McGonagall, this is my oldest, Ignatius. We call him Nattie. Nat, most of the time. Nat, this is Mr. Hashimoto and Miss McGonagall. They're going to stay with us for a couple of days.'

Ignatius peered shyly around his father's shoulder. Jack held out his hand and Ignatius bashfully shook it, then yanked his hand away as if he'd been burnt. Ignatius poked his first finger into his mouth and pillowed his head on his father's shoulder. 'Come on,' Septimus murmured. He walked through the back door of the house into a sunny kitchen.

Jack came to a sudden halt, making Minerva walk into him. 'Do you smell that?' he breathed, inhaling the savory aroma of roasting meat, making his mouth water. 'Roast beef...' He spun around. 'When was the last time we had meat like that?'

'Christmas,' she replied, lips tightening as she did so.

A small woman turned at the sound of the intrusion, revealing a rather visible pregnancy. Septimus placed a hand on her shoulder. 'Cedrella, this is Jack Hashimoto and Minerva McGonagall. They'll be staying with us for a few days.' Cedrella's mouth opened then shut as she saw Minerva's carefully set face, heavily smudged with soot.

She waved her wand at the pot on the stove and a wooden spoon floated into it and began it stir the soup burbling in it, and then beckoned to the younger woman. 'Come with me,' Cedrella ordered quietly. 'I'll show you where you can at least have a bit of a wash before dinner.' She led Minerva up three flights of narrow stairs. 'Miss McGonagall, is it?'

'Ye can call me Minerva.'

'I'm afraid I haven't anything that would fit you without a great deal of alteration,' Cedrella commented lightly. 'But if you'll give me a moment or two, I might be able to get you into something decent.' She eyed the drab ATS uniform, then added, 'Well, clean, at any rate. And I can have your things laundered in the morning.'

'Thank you.' Minerva usually detested idle chatter, but she appreciated Cedrella's chatter just now. It meant she had something else on which to focus, and not the sight of her father's body being loaded into a Ministry vehicle.

Cedrella paused on the landing and motioned to the closed door of the bathroom. 'Just through there. Face cloths and towels are on the shelf in the corner. I'll leave the clothes for you outside the door. No need to rush. Dinner can wait.'

Minerva nodded wordlessly and slipped into the bathroom. She didn't recognize the person reflected in the mirror gazing back at her, eyes wide and staring. She twisted the taps and filled the washbasin with water, steam rising gently from its surface, while she picked up a face cloth and a towel. She dipped her hands into the water and picked up the cake of soap sitting in pristine splendor next to the taps. She worked up a lather with the soap and carefully washed her face until all the traces of tears, ash, and soot were gone. Minerva washed her hands, carefully cleaning the grime from under her broken nails. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back, inhaling sharply through her nose, as she peeked out of the bathroom and spied the pile of obviously altered clothing. A dress similar to the one residing in the bureau - assuming the charms on her bedroom worked - sat just outside the door. Minerva picked it up and retreated back into the relative safety of the room. She swiftly removed her uniform, and wrung out the face cloth before swiping it over the rest of her body. The acrid scent of smoke lingered in her hair, but Minerva didn't feel up to the task of trying to wash it in the washbasin. She supposed she could have a proper bath after dinner and wash it then.

Minerva gathered her filthy clothing and padded down to the kitchen, standing uncertainly in the doorway. Cedrella glanced up from her attempts to work Ignatius into his high chair and jerked her head toward the scullery. 'Just toss them into the basket on the table there,' she told her.

'Mrs. Weasley, I -'

'Cedrella,' the other woman interrupted. 'Mrs. Weasley is my mother-in-law.'

'Cedrella...' Minerva took a deep breath. 'I thank ye for your hospitality,' she began formally.

'Minerva, it is quite all right, I assure you.' She pushed Ignatius to the table with an audible sigh.

Minerva studied Cedrella for a moment. Some of her traits were too unmistakable to be denied - the dark eyes, patrician features, even the swirling dark hair. 'I beg your pardon, but aren't you a Black?'

'Was,' Cedrella corrected softly. 'I was.' Her hand floated up to rest on the side of her swollen abdomen.

'How did you manage to marry a Weasley?' Minerva blurted unthinkingly. Cedrella stilled and gazed at her with typical Black hauteur. Minerva linked her fingers together in front of her, twisting them slightly. 'My apologies,' she murmured. 'I dinna mean to pry...'

Cedrella turned her head to the window, where she could see Jack and Septimus approaching the house from the tool shed where Jack had gone to perform his own ablutions. A smile touched the corner of her mouth. 'Septimus gave me the freedom to laugh. And love. He made me a better person.' She ran a gentle hand over Ignatius' bright head. 'That's how.' She gestured to a stack of plates and cutlery. 'Would you set the table?' she asked, deliberately changing the subject, returning to the stove. 'Septimus told me about your father,' she said quietly. 'You have my condolences.'

Minerva set a plate on the table with a soft thump. 'I thank ye.'

XxXxXxX

Jack covertly watched as Minerva picked at her dinner. It told him volumes that he was certain she'd never reveal - not even within the sanctuary of his bed. She exhaled slowly and neatly laid the cutlery across her plate and pushed it away a few inches. 'Excuse me,' she said softly and rose before anyone could say a word, then fled to the back garden.

Cedrella aimed her wand at a tea towel, dampening it, and with a casual flick, warmed the wet cloth. She began to wipe Ignatius' face, while Septimus cleared the table and sent the dishes to the drainboard. Jack pulled out his wand and aimed it at the stack of dishes. 'Let me,' he said with alacrity.

'It's not necessary for you to...' Cedrella began, but the wave of Jack's hand cut her off.

'It's absolutely necessary,' he stated. 'Minerva and I are causing extra work for you.' Jack stood and strode to the drainboard, directing dishes into the steaming, soapy water.

'Thank you,' Cedrella said. She sighed and pushed herself to her feet, lifting Ignatius from the high chair. 'I'll just go and give Nat his bath.' She shot Septimus a look, with a tilt of her head toward Jack and another in the direction of the garden. Septimus rolled his eyes and glanced at Jack, oblivious to the wordless conversation that passed between husband and wife. Cedrella's eyes widened and Septimus shooed her away with a flapping motion of his hands. She tossed her head and carried Ignatius up the stairs, leaving the two men alone in the kitchen.

Septimus picked up a tea towel and began to dry the steadily growing stack of clean dishes. 'Where did you live before coming here?'

'Near the Chancery Lane Underground station,' Jack said.

Septimus smiled. 'I meant before you came to England.'

'California. Sacramento.'

'What's it like?' Septimus asked curiously.

'A bit boring,' Jack replied with a slight chuckle. 'But it's home... I was training in New York when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor,' he added.

'How long have you been working with the Ministry here?'

'We started working with them in nineteen forty-two,' Jack sighed. 'Then we came over in forty-three and started planning the invasion of France. It's been roughly two years.'

'Have you thought about staying on here?' Septimus wondered aloud. 'It's just I've seen the way you look at Miss McGonagall, and I thought you might want to stay here.'

'Absolutely not,' Jack said flatly.

'Really?' Septimus said innocently. 'The Ministry could use someone like you...'

Jack snorted. 'I'd rather not. Your Ministry is...' He hesitated, then turned his attention to the pot that plopped into the soapy water.

'Go on,' Septimus encouraged.

Jack shook the water from his hands. 'Your Ministry is hide-bound. Determined to keep doing things the old way, because why bother changing with the times? They see no need because it's been working for centuries.' He took a deep breath, and charged ahead. 'There's no incentive for them to adapt. No one's accountable. Your Auror Head? He balked every time we wanted to embed wizards into the invasion force. He couldn't see the value of having them there. It took the Minister for the French Resistence government, the American Minister, as well as the Ministers from Poland, Holland, and Belgium to convince him it was their only chance to get the Germans out. Do you know how corrupt your government really is? Some asshole named Malfoy keeps poking his nose in our business, and he's not even employed by the Ministry. He's constantly giving your Minister or MLE Head small "gifts". Bribes, if you ask me. And what I've seen in the past two years is more restrictions on non-humans and attempts to criminalize Muggle-born witches and wizards.'

'That's about right,' Septimus sighed. 'But someone like you... Someone from the outside...'

'Why do you want someone like me to stay?' Jack asked pointedly.

'Anyone with half an eye could see it. The Ministry's in trouble. It will not take much to send it into chaos. If not in my lifetime, then most likely in my children's.' He shrugged and placed the last dish in the cupboard. 'Just something to consider. Change only occurs from within.'

Jack wrung out the dishcloth and wiped the drainboard with it. In spite of the way the American government treated him and his family, he couldn't imagine living anywhere else. 'There are still things to change back home, too,' he said softly. He glanced out of the window while he draped the dishcloth over the edge of the sink and saw Minerva's outline silhouetted against the sunset. 'If you'll excuse me...?'

'Jack.' Septimus' voice halted Jack's steps. 'First floor. The door on the right. It's the larger of the two.' Septimus cleared his throat, cheeks flushed slightly and pointed his wand at the lamp suspended over the table. The light dimmed considerably, throwing the kitchen into shadows. 'Good night.'

Jack strode across the garden until he reached the stone wall. Minerva perched on the edge, the toes of her shoes brushing the top of the grass that grew against it. His hands rose and he rested them gently on her shoulders. The quivered with unreleased tension and Jack stepped forward until his chest rested against her back. His arms slipped from her shoulders to wrap around her waist. She resisted for a moment, then swung her feet over the wall to face him, a crease etched between her brows. Jack rubbed his the tip of his index finger over it, attempting to smooth it away. Minerva blinked rapidly, trying to stem the unbidden tide of emotion that rose through her throat. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and slid down over the slope of her cheekbones. Jack gathered her close, murmuring nonsense into her ear, while the shoulder of his shirt grew damp with her tears.