A few years later Hermione had visited her. She was in a flood of tears and apologized for past bad behaviour (as if Minerva had a leg to stand on when it came to that, but she wasn't sure whether Hermione was aware of that), told her she was pregnant by her former husband Ron (again) and that that had broken up her current affair with the new headmaster, Neville Longbottom. Minerva provided tea and biscuits, as seemed to be her role in life, and was glad when Hermione left. She was a nice enough witch but her private life was really none of Minerva's business. She had not asked her where Severus was or how he was and Hermione had not offered any information. Minerva decided to let sleeping dogs lie. She had barely emotionally put herself together and was quite content on her own. She hadn't heard from Severus in a long time.

A year or so later Minerva travelled to a wizarding teaching convention in L.A. Her main reason for attending – apart from the fact that she had never visited the U.S. and thought it might be worth a visit before she became too decrepit – was that she was going to be honoured with the International American Witching Merit Award for her work to find a way to bring into closer cooperation different wizarding national education systems during her time as headmistress, a side show to the main event, a life-time teaching achievement award for the great American witch, Amaryllis Streap. The event was a crowded affair, with a number of U.S., Candadian, French, British, Irish, Rumanian, Bulgarian and other officials as well as colleagues she had met at various conferences and conventions in the past decades. She did not expect to find her long lost lover there but this is what happened.

Drinks had been plentiful and lovely, especially the Mimosas. The music had been loud and modern. She had ended up outside the hotel lobby, trying, unsuccessfully, to light a cigarette in the wind. It was her nose that picked his presence up first - a hint of wood and citrus with an idea of something acrid that took her back immediately to that first time she had felt his prick against her arse in Gladrags in that late spring in Hogsmeade village all those years ago and the many times they had been holding each other right until he had changed his aftershave and she had known something was up, only not in the right way. He held out a Muggle match that was burning brightly– “Do you need a light?” She allowed him to light her cigarette and then his own. She had still had no words but when they had finished smoking she leaned towards him, they slowly and then more urgently exchanged kisses while their hands began to explore each other. He pulled her into the dark corner they were standing in, murmured a few spells and then they started taking of each others' clothes kissing and licking any skin that came to light. Finally he had pulled up her skirt and down his pants. One of his hands found her clit and started the old ritual of gentle stroking and more forceful rubbing until he felt she was ready, while she had held on to his neck with one hand and tried to reach down to his balls and his prick, all the while sucking and licking his ear. Finally he lifted her onto his straining cock and he pushed hard, again and again. As they dissolved into pleasure they murmured each others' names and hearing the other say their own at this moment, a great sense of peace descended over them.

Or maybe it was a bit more awkward at first, a smoke or two and a few words. But as Minerva lies in bed, rubbing her fingers between her legs, as she recalls the pressure of hotel wall against her naked arse, what does it matter if that sex happened right away or a few hours or days later. This was half a Muggle lifetime ago and happen it did, and they still murmur to each other what it felt like when they are in the mood to have sex.