You wouldn’t take advantage of your magical eye. It’s meant to help you catch dark wizards. To see through their Disillusionment charms and under their invisibility cloaks. It’s a priceless artifact, and wielding it comes with great responsibility.

Except — sometimes you do take advantage of your eye.

You’re hiding behind the statue of Athena that’s conveniently outside Minerva’s private quarters. Officially, you’re at Hogwarts to check on the Dementors. Dumbledore doesn’t like them at the school, and you’re here to make sure they haven’t set up any hidden nests in the halls. Dumbledore read the creatures the riot act, but they don’t listen. The school is the perfect feeding ground for them, so much tastier than Azkaban and its stale meals.

And while you’re at Hogwarts on official business, you can’t resist a bit of unofficial business. You tell yourself there’s no harm in making sure Minerva is safe, because the school would fall apart without her. Dumbledore is the brain of the school, but Minerva is the heart of Hogwarts.

Her devotion to Hogwarts was an unending argument back in the day. Years out, you can see why the place is important to her, and why she feels that she must stay and protect the school. But back then, you were jealous of Hogwarts and its hold on her. You wanted Minerva to be your heart, to keep you steady and sane. If she had stayed in your life, you might be a tad less paranoid. Not much less, because paranoia keeps you alive, but with Minerva at your side, perhaps your house wouldn’t be festooned with Dark Detectors.

So you tell yourself that it’s not wrong to peer past the heavy word door guarding her rooms. All you want to do is see if she’s sleeping instead of up worrying about Black’s escape and obsession with the Potter boy.

You don’t expect to see Rolanda Hooch.

Her back is to the door and her hands are moving up and down. You place the motions easily, familiar from doing it yourself: Rolanda is brushing out Minerva’s hair. It’s still mostly black, with only a few gray sections you don’t remember. You miss that hair trapped between your bodies when you laid together after, how it was so soft but got everywhere.

Minerva taught you how to brush it the way she liked. First she’d release the charm securing her bun (so much better than pins, she’d explained), and let her hair fall, heavy and loose down her back. Next, you’d carefully spray on some Muggle conditioner, because while Minerva wasn’t vain about much, her hair was important to her, and she took excellent care of it. Finally, you’d pick up the brush (the same one since childhood, she’d proudly shared once) and start. First the ends, next up to the middle of her back, and finally to the crown of her head. It took forever to do it properly, but you enjoyed every minute, because it calmed your brain and you could simply be.

Be a man taking care of his partner instead of the fearsome Mad-Eye Moody.