After the fight in the Department of Mysteries, Minerva McGonagall takes inventory.
I love Alastor/Minerva, and this fic is a perfect example of why. Both flinty and unsentimental, but tender in their own way. It seems so right for someone as cerebral as Minerva to need time to really feel events like Sirius's death as real. And I love the way she masks her worries and other troublesome feelings with her typical asperity but occasionally also gives them voice and allows herself some tiny measure of vulnerability. The hints of a long-established -- if imperfect -- relationship are wonderful, especially Alastor's hurt and her guilt at not having recognized the imposter Barty Crouch.
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