A/N: This is it, you guys! Well, except for the follow-up one-shots that I hope to get to between working on my novel next month for nanowrimo. Thank you again for reading and commenting and giving me the motivation to complete this ambitious project. I love you all! <3
---
Friday, June 29, 2018
Minerva McGonagall always got emotional on the last day of term, and this year was no exception. She'd had many years of practice at keeping her stoic mask in place, but, even so, she could feel it cracking on her face, pulling at the skin, like the heavily-caked stage-paint she'd worn in a play once, as a girl.
There was just something about the final day of term, full of endings, yes, but also the excitement of new beginnings. For the younger students, of spending summer vacation with their families and then returning to their friends a little older, a little taller; for the graduating 7th-years, the excitement of embarking on a new adventure, the whole world laid out before their eager feet; and, this year, for Minerva herself, standing at the threshold of a door marked "retirement" but still not quite sure she was ready to walk through it.
She smiled as she looked out over the Great Hall - packed like never before, with the parents of nearly every student involved in Neville's crazy Muggle Art Appreciation scheme. They were putting on the play tonight, before the End of Term Banquet, and the mood in the room was full of a jittery, bouncy anticipation. She caught Neville's eye as he entered the room, and offered him a congratulatory smile. Even if the play turned out to be a complete disaster, she was willing to concede his experiment a success. He grinned back at her, shooting her a quick thumb's up, then strode to the podium in the center of the stage - the Great Hall having obliged him by rearranging itself that afternoon - and clapped his hands for silence.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else," he began, "Students, professors, parents, staff - family and friends of Hogwarts - I am delighted to have you all here this evening. This is an historic occasion for this school, and this Headmaster. Without further ado, let me introduce to you the wonderful professors of this term's pilot Muggle Art Appreciation program - the first of its kind, I believe, in a Wizarding institution such as this. May I present: Ginny Potter, nee Weasley, Astoria Malfoy, nee Greengrass, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and the incomparable Luna Lovegood."
The audience cheered as they stood and waved, and then Ginny ran up and whispered in his ear, and he turned back to the microphone, grinning. "I have been informed," he said, "that our very own Professors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were instrumental in getting this project off the ground." He winked at her. "Would you boys come up here, please?"
They did, hand in hand, with much eye-rolling and identical wide grins.
Neville beamed at them. "I am also pleased to announce that Ginny and Astoria have accepted full Professor positions for next year, and that the others will be joining us frequently for seminars and guest lectures. And, now, without further ado, I will hand the microphone off to Professor... should I call you Potter or Weasley?"
She grinned. "Well, Potter would just confuse things, wouldn't it? I'll answer to Professor Weasley, I suppose. Tori?"
Astoria nodded at her. "Good thinking, Gin. I'll be Professor Greengrass, Headmaster, to avoid similar name confusion."
"Excellent. Professor Weasley, everyone."
Ginny accepted the microphone and bounced across the stage, holding it up and waving enthusiastically at the crowd. "Hi guys! My name's Ginny, and I - and my fellow Muggle Art Appreciation professors - are thrilled to welcome you to Hogwarts' first production of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet! But first —" she glanced over at the others, who nodded. "First I think Harry would like to say a few words."
Everyone leaned in, intent to hear what the famous former-recluse Harry Potter had to say. Minerva smiled as he walked forward to take the microphone. He looked so happy and relaxed, now, finally.
"Hello everyone," Harry said. "I'm notoriously bad at speeches, so rest assured that I won't be making one. I only wanted to say - and I know I speak for all of us here on stage - that there is one person in this school who has always embodied for us the spirit of Hogwarts, and we'd like to dedicate tonight's performance to her.
Then his eyes sought hers and held, and she drew in a breath.
"Minerva McGonagall," he said, green eyes intense and sparkling, effortlessly holding her captive even from up on the stage, "you are the linchpin of this school, the glue that holds Hogwarts together. We can't imagine it without you, and yet it would be unfair of us to expect you to continue to teach forever. So, from all of us, thank you for everything - all the lessons, all the wisdom, all the courage and kindness. You've saved all of our lives, time and again, and we love you. We just wanted you to know."
And everyone - everyone - in the Great Hall, from the first-years to the seventh-years to their parents and grandparents, stood and cheered.
And Minerva sat, stunned, floored with the realization that it was all worth it. Every detention, every lesson, every late night, every tear, every hour of lost sleep and every headache. It was all worth it.
Harry handed the microphone to Ginny, who was wiping away tears, and leapt easily off the stage, loping down the aisle to where Minerva sat and pulling her into a hug. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear, "for everything."
She patted his back awkwardly, feeling lost and completely overwhelmed. Then he stepped back, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, and Ginny rushed to take his place. They all hugged her, even Blaise, who dipped her dramatically, to the laughter of everyone in the hall. When he set her back on her feet, with a kiss on her cheek and a heartfelt whisper of "thanks," she felt her mask crumble just a little bit more.
And then Draco, who'd hung back from the others, stepped up and hugged her awkwardly. She felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes, and hoped she could exert enough force of will to prevent them from falling. She gave him a tiny smile and said "I knew you had it in you, Mister Malfoy." Then, quietly, right in his ear, she whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Draco."
It was the first time she'd ever called him Draco, in the nearly three decades she'd known him, and she wasn't sure he would notice, or understand the significance.
But his eyes were suspiciously bright, and his hug turned from tentative to fierce, and his voice cracked when he whispered back, "Thank you."
And she remembered that he'd had to grow up far too fast, just like the rest of them, and that he'd lost his mother and father right after the war - who, for all their faults, had certainly loved him. And she remembered, too, the story Ginny and Astoria had told her, that day in Neville's office a few weeks before, of how he'd broken his own heart to save the world from Voldemort, even though he thought he was the only one who would ever know.
And she knew that he understood and appreciated the kindnesses she'd shown him - all of them - over the years, and she made a mental note to stop by the Headmaster's office on her way out that night and tell Severus and Albus that they were right about the scared, posturing little boy all along.
And as she watched Draco walk away, fingers firmly, unapologetically twined with Harry's, she realized that, for the first time since that horrible night when she and Albus had left an infant Harry on that doorstep on Privet drive, she didn't need to worry about him anymore.
It was astonishing, really, how much lighter she felt, once she realized that.
—
The play was a success, of course. Neville cheered and whistled and threw kernels of the muggle popcorn he'd insisted they serve, and was embarrassingly enthusiastic throughout it, and Minerva felt like sinking into her seat. She wondered why she'd agreed to sit with him - she should have known, really.
Tilly Leatherwood, as a dazzlingly flamboyant Mercutio, stole the show - to absolutely no one's surprise. Quiet Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy were positively radiant as Romeo and Juliet, and Harry and Draco applauded them loudest of all.
The Weasley Clan all showed up for the play, bringing Lily Potter - who'd be attending Hogwarts with her brothers next year - with them. Molly gave James a dressing-down when he tried to set off some Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fireworks - after the play was done, thank Merlin - dragging him off by his ear to pack for a summer with her and Arthur, to the amusement of all and secret relief of McGonagall. That boy was trouble, and Molly Weasley was the only person she could think of who could possibly get through to him. He was James Potter, Sr. all over again, and she was far, far too old for this.
Neville shook every student's hand, once the play was finished, and they'd all gathered to take their bows - the actors and musicians and designers, the stage hands and lighting techs and makeup artists. He pumped their hands energetically, clapped them on the back, and offered them bits of leftover popcorn that he plucked out of his beard.
Minerva caught herself thinking wistfully of Albus Dumbledore, and decided that, after all, it was high time she retired. Because it was suddenly, painfully obvious that, no matter what she found on the other side of that door, Hogwarts would always be there to welcome her home. And with that realization, Minerva let the last ties of responsibility go. Her students had grown up, and were doing beautifully. They didn't need her anymore; she was free to find her next adventure.
~The End~