In the Light Of the Stars

Jack ran through the throngs of cheering, celebrating people that swarmed the streets of London. Nothing had been announced officially, but everyone knew. After Berlin fell a few days ago, it was only a matter of time. The relief was palpable under the waves of elation. As relieved as he was in this moment, Jack imagined the depth of his feelings was dwarfed by those of the people surrounding him. They had endured six long, grueling years of war, with an untold amount of death, both civilian and military. Jack could only guess at how they felt. His home wasn't lying in a pile of rubble. The shores of his home country were scarcely touched by the war, but here, and all over Europe, not to mention wide swaths of Asia and northern Africa, and the Soviet Union, the scars and gashes of war were starkly visible.

He badly wanted to join the celebrations, but not yet.

XxXxXxX

Minerva sat in one of the chairs grouped around the small table where they took meals in the tiny flat. One bare foot rested on the seat of the chair, while the other leg was folded and tucked close to her bottom. She toyed with an ordinary Muggle pen, a several-days old Daily Prophet in front of her, attempting to complete the crossword, while the wireless played softly in the corner. The noise drifting through the open window steadily grew louder and slightly more frenetic. She capped the pen and unfolded herself from the chair, stopping long enough to don a pair of socks and shove her feet into her shoes waiting by the door. She locked the door of the flat behind her and ran lightly down the stairs, emerging into the mild morning air.

People burst from their flats, laughing and crying. Minerva heard the words, but barely comprehended their meaning. As she strode through the throngs of humanity, Minerva couldn't help but recall her own losses. Alasdair. Her father. Then there was Frankie, who had retreated to some dark place in his mind, shattered by the fighting in Bastogne last winter. Theo's young wife, Amelia, who had been killed in the same bombing raid that killed Angus McGonagall. The concentration camp they had examined in Germany just a few weeks ago. The stench of death and evil still lingered in her memory. Minerva wondered how many people she passed in the street or on the pavement privately remembered their own losses as they publically cheered.

Yes, it was all nearly over, save for the continued fighting in the Pacific, but at what cost? Never mind the cost of rebuilding. Minerva had heard stories about Warsaw and Dresden, where large swathes of the cities had been reduced to rubble. The human toll was greater than anything she could ever possibly hope to imagine. Not for the first time, Minerva soberly regarded wizardkind and their capacity to shun others who were different. There had been that odd boy a few years behind her in school. Minerva supposed he could be considered handsome, if one's taste ran to pale, patrician features and dark hair. She recalled he'd been Sorted into Slytherin, which, to her Gryffindor sensibilities, automatically classified him as an unmitigated twit. His rather extreme views regarding half-bloods and Muggle-borns were hailed by a certain segment of students whose parents placed blood purity above all else. It made her uneasy, especially after what she'd recently learned in Germany. Witches and wizards were, after all, human and subject to human frailties. Their ability to manipulate magic didn't make them immune to prejudice.

Jack saw Minerva well before she saw him. He began to wildly wave his arms over his head. 'Min!' he shouted. 'Min! Minnie!' Jack pushed through several knots of people in an attempt to catch up to her. It bordered on rudeness, but in the general hilarity of the day, nobody seemed to mind. 'Min!' Jack ran headlong into Minerva, his arms wrapping around her waist. 'It's over!' he exclaimed. He lifted her off her feet, twirling in a wide circle. 'It's finally over!' he crowed, echoing the shouts of people around them, before setting her down on her feet. Jack didn't think about his next actions. He bent Minerva over his arm and kissed her. Deeply, passionately, and enthusiastically. More than a few people applauded, and Minerva felt her cheeks redden. Jack's body shuddered with a suppressed sob. He pulled away and Minerva could see the tears pooling in the corers of his eyes, a visible sign of the tension that had gripped them all for years.

XxXxXxX

Lights streamed from flat windows, creating squares of yellow light in the dingy brick walls of the block of flats that lined the street. Minerva, Jack, and Reggie sat on a chairs salvaged from a neighboring bombed-out block of flats, watching the flames of an enormous bonfire burning in the middle of the street. For tonight, at least, blackout rules could be ignored. Reggie passed a bottle of wine to Minerva, who took a long pull before handing to Jack. 'What are ye to do now the war's over in Europe?' she asked.

Reggie shrugged. 'Dunno. Reckon they'll send us to the Pacific.' He gave Jack a sidelong glance. 'Maybe not Jack,' he added.

Jack raised the bottle to his lips. 'All this time, and my loyalties are still in question,' he snorted. Jack tilted the bottle and let a swallow of wine slide down his throat. 'They might make me stay here for a while. Remember that camp we saw a week ago?' Minerva and Reggie nodded. 'Word is there's more of them. All over Germany, some in Poland, France. Thousands of people lost in them. Maybe millions.' Jack gazed into the fire meditatively. 'Might have to clean some of that up first. Check for Dark magic.' He elbowed Minerva. 'See if you can come with me. You're one of the best I know at sniffing out Dark magic.' The bottle made its way to Minerva. 'Sort through the refugees and see if any of them are witches or wizards. Paperwork. The usual,' he sighed explosively. Jack turned slightly to look at Minerva. 'You?'

Minerva examined the bottle, holding it up to the light to gauge the amount of wine left. She closed her eyes and concentrated on casting the incantation to nonverbally refill the bottle. After a hefty swallow, she replied, 'I dinna know. Before I decided to join the ATS, I considered Gringott's. Before the war, I had thought to go into international magical law, but now...?' Minerva handed the bottle to Reggie.

'What changed?' Jacked asked.

Minerva's mouth quirked at the corners. 'I dinna think I'm cut out for diplomacy any longer.' Reggie pressed the wine bottle into her hand. She took a long swallow, and said, 'I would like to be useful.'

Reggie snorted. 'After all this, makin' sure we cooperate with each other ain't useful?'

'It is,' Minerva admitted. 'But I think I might want to do work where I can influence ordinary witches or wizards. I hae yet to figure that one out.' She absently rubbed her thumb over her dog tags. 'I dinna ever want to fight a war like this again.'

The three of them sat in silence, contemplating the last few years.

Reggie tilted his head back to study the skies overhead. 'No more air raid sirens,' he breathed. 'No more bombs.'

'No more bombs,' Minerva repeated.

They stayed perched on the wall, gazing at the sky above, knowing nothing more sinister than rain would fall from it tonight. Jack shook himself and stood up. 'What are we doing here?' he demanded. 'We should be celebrating. Find somewhere for a truly decadent meal, like we haven't had in years.'

Reggie pulled his sleeve back and tilted his wrist toward the light of the bonfire. 'Considerin' it's after eleven, I don't think we're gonna find somethin' like that right now.'

'Tomorrow, then,' Jack pronounced. 'Diagon Alley.'

XxXxXxX

Minerva buried her nose into the steaming cup, with a beatific expression on her face. At last, proper tea with fresh milk - not powdered or evaporated - and plenty of sugar. Jack saluted her with his cup, full of strong black coffee. 'Don't you feel just the slightest bit guilty?' Jack quipped. 'Real coffee and tea. Sweets.' He picked up a biscuit from the tea stand in the middle of the table. Jack bit into the shortbread, rich with butter and glittering with sugar, and nearly groaned aloud with pleasure.

Minerva's hand hovered over the tray before she chose a scone and slathered it with clotted cream and strawberry jam. 'Only a little,' she admitted. 'But we are celebrating.' She bit into the scone with obvious relish.

As they demolished a traditional afternoon tea, Minerva became aware of the covert glances thrown their way. The three of them were rather conspicuous in their Muggle uniforms. More than a few murmured comments to one another. Minerva managed to ignore them, until a pale, handsome, albeit slightly shabby, young man came to a dead stop in the middle of Diagon Alley, glaring at them with naked, raw hostility. Minerva stilled and squarely met the man's hateful gaze with her equally cool one. Jack glanced between them. The longer Minerva silently challenged the strange young man, her posture subtly shifted. Her chin rose slightly, shoulders drew back, and her spine straightened. It was all but imperceptible, unless one was familiar with Minerva's body language. The young man's lip curled derisively, and with one final scathing look, he stalked away.

'Who was that?' Jack asked quietly.

Minerva lifted her cup to her lips. 'Tom Riddle. I went to school wi' him.' She paused, frowning. 'There were rumors about him, aye?' she added.

'Rumors?' Reggie interjected.

Minerva resisted the urge to squirm. It was a touchy subject. 'Blood status,' she replied tightly. 'There was talk that he thought only pure-bloods were worthy to educate, and Muggle-borns lower than the filth he'd scrape from his shoes,' she said flatly. 'Never mind what people said he thought about Muggles.'

Jack slowly put his cup down. He hadn't missed the young man's genteel poverty, so evident in his robes. It was one thing to have opinions, and yet another to have friends that could help spread said opinions. 'Minerva, does he have -friends?' he asked.

'Friends wi' deep pockets ye mean? Influential friends in the Ministry?' She took a sip of her tea. 'Some. There are a handful of families that share his views.' She toyed with another scone, spreading it with an indecent amount of clotted cream and raspberry jam. 'Ordinarily, nobody would pay him any mind, but he was, and is, an intelligent young man. Charismatic enough to convince others he was descended from one of the founders of Hogwarts; but he's really an orphan, and nobody knows who his family is.'

Reggie and Jack exchanged thoughtful glances. 'Charismatic enough to cause problems someday?' Jack asked warily.

'If I only believed in Divination,' Minerva replied with a wry grin. 'I suppose it might depend on whether or not Tom Riddle can continue to work his way into the good graces of the Blacks or Malfoys.' Minerva sipped her tea. 'School gae him a captive audience. I havena heard that it's continued.' She shrugged expansively and swiped a finger through the clotted cream. 'Let's not speak o' him now. This is a celebration.'

XxXxXxX

Jack spotted Takeshi in the corner of the large room, deep in the British Ministry, teeming with a mix of American and British wizards, with a few witches scattered here and there. 'Takeshi! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Germany.'

'Got pulled from my unit for demobilization. Nobody'll tell me why. I don't even have nearly enough points to qualify.'

'They're sending all of us wizards home in the first wave of troops going home. The faster they get rid of us, the easier it is for them to forget we were in it at all,' Jack snorted.

'They ain't sendin' us home tomorrow,' Reggie grumbled dourly, his arms crossed over his chest.

'In a couple of weeks, I imagine,' Jack commented.

Minerva peered around the edge of the doorframe. 'Whatever is going on?'

'Demobilization,' Reggie said shortly.

'Ye look upset,' she observed.

Reggie's crossed arms tightened. 'Yeah. Back to good ole segregation and Jim Crow.' His shoulders rose a fraction of an inch higher. 'Wonder if they'd let me stay here.'

'Tony's coming back from Germany tomorrow,' Jack informed them. 'Got word this morning. They've been pacing it out so too many of us don't disappear all at once.'

'Where's he staying?' Reggie asked.

'With us,' Jack said firmly.

'If you don't mind me askin', how in the good Lord's name are we goin' to all fit?'

'Cot in the sitting room at night for Tony, and we'll squeeze another one in your room for Takeshi. Or Tony can bunk with you and Takeshi can sleep in the sitting room.'

Takeshi frowned. 'Wait, Reggie told me Minerva lived with you.'

'I do,' Minerva said shortly.

Takeshi grinned evilly. 'So let me make sure I've got it all straight. There's two bedrooms, the sitting room and kitchen, and the bathroom.'

Minerva glared icily down her nose at Takeshi. 'Your point?'

'Just trying to figure out where you sleep.' Takeshi leaned back. 'You're usually much better at hiding your tracks, Jackie Boy,' he commented. 'Wait until I tell Auntie Kamiko that you were a bad boy during the war.'

Jack eased his wand from his holster and casually aimed it at Takeshi's crotch. 'Breathe a word to Mom, and I swear I'll hex your dick so that it shrivels up and falls off.'

'I'm not dumb enough to do it in front of you,' Takeshi retorted, shoving Jack's wand away. 'Careful where you point that.' He slowly tilted the chair back on its hind legs. 'When can we expect you to visit Sacramento?' he asked Minerva.

'Ye'll be the next to know after I inform Jack,' Minerva drawled sarcastically.

'What're you doin' here?' Reggie asked Minerva.

Minerva dug a scrap of parchment from a pocket of her trousers. 'Demobilization,' she replied. 'End of September.'

'Same with us,' Takeshi said.

'Except me,' Reggie interjected.

'Why?' Minerva dropped into a chair.

Reggie's jaw tightened, and he looked away. Jack leaned closer to Minerva. 'Army insists on putting him on a - how did they put it? - a "properly segregated troop carrier." It's fubar.'

Minerva stared at them for a long moment. 'Do ye mean to tell me that between the four of ye, ye canna brew enough Polyjuice or find hair from a willing donor to pass Reggie off as someone else?'

'That's a good idea,' Takeshi chortled.

'And how do you propose I get past the guys checkin' the paperwork?' Reggie drawled.

Minerva buffed her nails on the sleeve of her jacket. 'Confundus.' She glanced at the men over the rims of her glasses. 'Ye can do a simple Confundus charm, aye?'

Reggie grinned widely. 'I knew there was a reason why I liked you.'

XxXxXxX

The neat row of olive drab duffle bags, lined up by the door offered a mute testament that Jack, Tony, Reggie, and Takeshi would leave tomorrow on a troop carrier bound for New York City. The fire popped in the grate, warding off the chill of the late September night. Minerva ladled a grey, gloppy potion into a row of waiting flasks. 'Cedrella cornered Septimus and gave him a good trim,' she said.

'More like practically shaved the poor guy's head,' Jack murmured.

Minerva spared a glance for Reggie. 'Aye, well. When she heard why we needed, poor Septimus' didna hae much of a choice.'

'His hair didn't, at any rate,' Tony smirked. He yawned widely. 'Everything's under control out here, so I'm going to bed.'

'Can ye no' wait a bit?' Minerva asked, firmly screwing the lid closed on the last flask. She heaved the cauldron to the sideboard and hurried into the bedroom, wiping her hands over her trousers. She reappeared, carrying a large basket in one hand, and a bulky package in the other. Minerva reached into the basket and unearthed four bottles of whisky, presenting them to each man sitting around the table. 'It's a Muggle distillery, but they know what they're about,' she explained. 'It was Da's favorite.'

Takeshi grinned and lazily waved his wand over the table. 'Who're the other bottles for?' he asked as five glasses appeared.

'One is for Frankie.'

Jack plucked it from the basket and crossed the room to his duffle. 'I'll make sure he gets it,' he assured Minerva.

Minerva pried the cork from the remaining bottle and poured it into the waiting glasses. 'This one is for us.' She lightly ran her thumb over the label on the bottle. 'They're from Da's personal collection.'

Reggie picked up his glass. 'What was you and your daddy said?'

'Slainte mhath.'

Reggie held his glass up. 'Slainte mhath.'

Minerva held her glass up to Reggie. 'Do dheagh shlainte,' she replied. They each took a sip, savouring the fine whisky.

Minerva pushed the package across the table to Reggie. 'I want ye to hae this.'

Curiously, Reggie used his wand to sever the string holding the brown paper wrapped around a heavy wooden box. He flipped the lid open to reveal Angus McGonagall's prized Jacobite rebellion chess set. 'Are you sure?' he asked. 'This is a family heirloom.'

Minerva nodded. 'Aye. I dinna think anyone else appreciated the history behind the set like Da, except you.' She sipped her whisky. 'Da would want it to go to someone who appreciates it as he did.'

Reggie rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Damn, girl...' He stood and pulled Minerva to her feet, gently kissing her on the cheek before embracing her. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome,' Minerva replied.

XxXxXxX

Jack leaned against the closed bedroom door. 'So what are you giving me as a good-bye present?' he teased.

Minerva looked up from unbuttoning her blouse. 'Jealous, are ye?' she shot back.

Jack crossed the small space between them, and cupped the back of her head in his hand. 'No,' he told her before kissing her gently, tasting the peaty undertones of the whisky on her lips. He slipped the remaining buttons through their buttonholes and slid the blouse off her shoulders. Jack traced the contours of her collarbone with his fingers, pushing the straps of her brassiere off her shoulders. 'I don't think I'll want to sleep much tonight,' he said so quietly, he nearly whispered.

Minerva reached behind her back and neatly and efficiently flicked the hooks of the brassiere open. 'Neither do I,' she replied, just as quietly. She tugged the tails of Jack's shirt from his trousers and worked the buttons open. 'What time are ye leavin' for your carrier?'

'Have to be in Southampton by ten,' Jack murmured, his mouth pressed against the side of her neck.

Minerva deftly undid the flies of Jack's trousers and slid her hands inside his boxers. 'Apparatin'?'

Jack's teeth clenched. 'Of course,' he hissed. 'For God's sake, woman,' he breathed, 'Stop talking.' He grasped her arms in his hands and began to walk backward until the backs of his thighs collided with the bed.

They slowly removed each other's remaining clothing, breaking out into soft laughs when feet tangled in trousers or hands caught in the cuffs of a shirt. Each kiss and every touch another small farewell and attempt to commit the contours of muscle, bone, and skin to memory. Every sigh or muffled moan the unspoken words they could not or would not allow themselves to say. Minutes flowed into hours as the moon and stars tracked across the nighttime skies.

XxXxXxX

Minerva settled against the pillows stacked against the headboard with a satisfied exhalation. Jack grinned smugly as he patted the bedside table for his wand. He lazily conjured a jar, then produced a set of warm amber flames inside it. He gently set both his wand and the jar on the table and glanced at Minerva. 'So? Have you decided what you're going to do with the house in Inverness?'

Minerva nibbled the edge of her thumbnail. 'I'll keep it for now,' she said after a long pause.

'And after tomorrow? What will you do with yourself?'

Minerva slid further down in the bed. 'Still dinna ken.'

Jack swept a lock of hair from her eyes. 'Does it frighten you to not know?'

'A wee bit,' Minerva admitted.

Jack turned over on his side. 'We could use someone like you,' he said simply.

Minerva gave a rather unladylike snort. 'I'm hardly anyone's idea of an Auror. Chasin' Dark wizards isna my idea of good time.'

'I didn't necessarily mean as an Auror,' Jack replied smoothly. 'You could teach. Salem could use some good teachers. Anything you want. World's wide open for you, Min.'

Minerva chuckled. 'I dinna think I'd make a verra good teacher,' she chortled. 'Too impatient wi' people who are little more than babbling, bumbling baboons!'

Jack snickered. 'I'll have to remember that one,' he said. 'Babbling, bumbling baboons...' He drew the duvet a little higher over their shoulders. 'You'll write to me, won't you?'

Minerva lightly kissed the tip of his nose. 'Of course I will.' Pale grey light filled the room, heralding a new day. Jack tilted his wrist, peering at the face of his watch. 'What time is it?' Minerva asked.

'Nearly six.' Jack stared intently at Minerva. ''Come home with me,' he said.

Minerva shook her head. 'Don't,' she whispered, laying a finger over his lips. 'I still hae you to myself for another hour. I dinna want to speak o' anything beyond that.'

'I won't stop asking you to come with me,' Jack replied, kissing the palm of her hand.

Minerva didn't say anything. She merely shifted until she straddled Jack and pressed him back into the pillows. He'd asked from time to time over the past year, but she never gave him an answer, preferring to change the subject. As the date of their demobilization crept closer, his entreaties had become more frequent. Part of her longed to say she'd leave to join him in America as soon as she could tidy her affairs in Scotland. The sensible side of her stilled her tongue. What right had she to become a burden to Jack? He would resume his interrupted career as an Auror, and as for herself? Minerva didn't know. She hadn't trained for anything as of yet, and was still uncertain as to the path her life would take after the war. She could hear her father's voice whispering in her ear that she should only pack up her entire life and live in an environment that was so different from Scotland, it might very well be the moon, demanded that she only go once she could truly call herself independent; and that meant the ability to support herself.

Minerva mentally shook her head, stilling the thoughts swirling in her brain. Now was not the time to think about anything except the next ten seconds.

XxXxXxX

Jack rubbed a hand over his face. 'Go and get in the bathroom before anyone else does,' he suggested.

'You go,' Minerva murmured sleepily. 'I hae to finish packing my things.'

'I'll be quick,' Jack promised. He slipped from the bed and gathered the clothes he had laid out the night before, then padded from the room, closing the door behind him.

Minerva counted to ten, then flipped the duvet back and climbed out of the bed, searching through their discarded clothes for the vest Jack had worn yesterday. She folded it while she walked to her open case. Minerva lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. She quickly stuffed it under a pair of ATS trousers. Minerva doubted Jack would miss it.

XxXxXxX

Minerva, Jack, Takeshi, and Tony stood in the sitting room. 'I guess this is good-bye,' Tony said. He held out a hand, and Minerva took it. Tony pulled her closer and gave her a brief hug. 'Take care of yourself.'

'Do somethin' irresponsible,' Minerva told him cheekily.

'At least once a week,' Tony promised.

Reggie held up a vial with Polyjuice in a toast. 'I hope this works,' he muttered, dropping a bright red strand of hair into it. They all watched, fascinated, as the color of the potion turned from vile grey to bright copper. Reggie took a swallow and grimaced a little. Within a few minutes, Septimus Weasley -- or an excellent facsimile of him -- stood in the flat.

'Taste like toe jam?' Takeshi asked.

'Nah. Actually isn't bad. Septimus is a good man. Polyjuice tends to be kinda thick though.'

'Every hour, mind,' Minerva reminded him, indicating the canteen that had been filled with Polyjuice last night. 'At least while you're out and about on the ship.'

'Yes, ma'am!' Reggie saluted Minerva, then pulled her into a hug. 'I'll miss sparrin' with ya, girl,' he said.

'Round of chess through Owl Post,' Minerva said.

'You got it,' Reggie replied.

Takeshi shook Minerva's hand. 'It's been a pleasure to get to know you, Miss McGonagall.'

'And you,' Minerva replied.

'We should remove the charms,' Tony mentioned.

'Min and I will do it,' Jack said quickly. 'We set them. You guys go ahead. I'll meet up with you on the dock.' The boys left, although not before Takeshi gave Jack a knowing glance and punched him lightly in the shoulder on his way out the door. Left alone, Jack pulled his wand out and held it up. 'Ready?'

'On three? One, two three.' Minerva and Jack began to flick their wands, and they removed all the charms they had placed on the flat shortly after moving in the previous summer.

The last charm faded, and Jack stowed his wand. 'We should go.'

'We should,' Minerva agreed. Neither of them moved. Minerva launched herself at Jack. He spun around and lifted her onto the edge of the drainboard in the kitchen. He reached under the skirt of her dress uniform and pulled off her knickers, then unfastened his trousers and boxers. It didn't last more than a minute.

They quickly put themselves to rights. Neither of them said anything. Jack picked up his duffel and opened the door, waiting for Minerva to walk through it. He closed it behind them, his hand lingering on the knob for a few seconds. 'I'll go to the dock wi' ye,' Minerva said as if she hadn't just had him, all but fully dressed in the kitchen.

'I'd like that. Thank you,' Jack replied. He gestured to the stairs. 'After you.'

XxXxXxX

The troop carrier loomed over them. They'd said their farewells in the flat the previous night, so there was nothing more to say. Minerva handed Jack a small box. 'Keep that safe, aye? It's extra Polyuice if ye're delayed at sea. Septimus was quite willing to provide additional contributions as well.'

Jack set his duffle on the pavement and carefully tucked the box in between layers of clothing. 'Min...'

Minerva smiled and reached up to smooth the edge of his shirt collar down in lieu of throwing herself into his arms. It wouldn't be seemly in front of so many soldiers. 'Safe journey,' she said.

'I'll write and let you know where the Aurors send me,' Jack said softly. 'Maybe you can come for Christmas.'

Minerva nodded and tightly laced her fingers together behind her back. Jack hoisted his duffle to his shoulder and strode to the gangway, willing himself not to look back.