Chapter Two
Chapter Two: July 1982
"Albus, I am seeing my grandson on his second birthday!" Minerva argued.
Albus sighed. "I understand what you're doing. My question centres on how you are going to do it. I highly doubt Petunia and Vernon would leave a toddler alone in the house, and you can't exactly barge in when they're home. They won't take too kindly to that."
"I am going to go and watch the house," Minerva said determinedly. "When they leave him alone for the night, I'll visit him."
Albus raised an eyebrow. "And what, steal him away like a thief in the night?"
"No." Minerva glared at him. They both knew she would have done that last autumn if she could have. "I will visit with him. As a cat."
"I suppose I should have expected that," Albus replied, chuckling. "It's not that I don't want you to do this," he added softly. "I just don't want you to make things harder for yourself."
"You could come with me," Minerva said gently. "He might like playing with a phoenix."
Albus hesitated before saying, "No, I don't believe a toddler would want to play with a bird. A cat is easier to cuddle."
Minerva knew he simply couldn't face his grandson after leaving him with the Dursleys, but she was willing to accept the lie. "All right, my love. Be safe."
"I feel like I should be saying that to you." Albus kissed her temple. "I'm a bit tired and will retire early. If you need anything, you know how to reach me. Have a good time with our boy."
He walked away from her, presumably to head to their bedroom. Minerva sighed and closed her eyes.
She wished things could be much simpler than they were.
Since last November, their marriage had been...not strained, exactly, but uneasy. Minerva deeply loved Albus, and he returned those feelings with a ferocity that would frighten a lesser woman. She would always love him—no matter the decisions he made or the secrets he kept.
His decision to banish Harry to the Dursleys would never sit well with her. The only reason Minerva had been able to forgive Albus was their bond. She felt—almost daily—the sadness that decision brought him.
The sincerity of his emotions made Minerva believe that his fear for Harry was very, very real. It was the only reason Minerva hadn't scooped Harry up and taken him far away.
Albus had done what he believed was right, and even if Minerva only knew what she expected to be the half-truth behind his reasoning, she knew enough to know her husband was usually right.
And so, life went on.
Minerva left the Manor and went into the courtyard. Steeling herself, she Apparated to Privet Drive.
"Grandma's coming, Harry," she whispered to herself. She quietly transformed into her cat form and jumped from plant to plant until she was looking into the second-floor windows.
The Dursley's own child, Dudley, had a large room. It was filled with toys, pictures of the toddler, and books were strewn along the floor. He appeared to be asleep in his crib, but Minerva still took care to ensure her tail didn't hit the window.
She knew from her own experience that it didn't always take much to wake a sleeping baby.
Minerva found Harry in the next window over. His room was much smaller and infinitely cleaner—due to a disturbing lack of toys, she noted—but he was awake in his own crib. Smiling, she pried the window open and slipped through the window frame and into the house.
She padded to Harry's bed and purred when he smiled at the sight of her. Suddenly, Minerva spared a thought for the poor kitten she had bought for Harry when he was first born. The animal was probably long gone now, but Minerva knew from Lily that Harry had loved the kitten.
"Kitten?" Harry whispered, his green eyes growing wide. "Are you a kitten?"
Minerva responded by leaping high and jumping into his crib.
"Quiet," Harry murmured. He held out his hand, and Minerva rubbed her head against it. "Shhhhhh."
Minerva crawled into Harry's lap and sat contentedly as he petted her fur. She wished she could cuddle him, not the other way around, but she would take what contact she could get.
"Furry friend." Harry sighed happily. He hugged Minerva to his belly as he flopped onto his side. "Sleep now."
Minerva felt a tear threaten to escape her eyes, and she did her best to hide it from Harry. The thought that he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep around her was almost too much for her heart to take.
Ultimately, she stayed with her grandson until his breathing became slow and peaceful. Minerva gently rolled out of his embrace and took the opportunity to observe him. He seemed to be of a reasonable weight for a child his age, and his black hair was thick and already sticking up in the back—just like Dalton's and Aidan's. She saw so much of herself and her son in Harry that she smiled.
Before she could cry, she crept through the window and disappeared into the night.
To her surprise, Albus was waiting for her.
"Al?" Minerva asked. She moved to their bedroom wardrobe to take off her necklace and rings. "I thought you were tired. Why are you still up?"
"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to know how Harry was," Albus said quietly. He fidgeted with the cover of his novel. "If you're willing to tell me, that is."
Minerva smiled knowingly as she pulled her nightgown over her head. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
"I would like to know everything."
She slipped into bed beside him. "He lives in a separate room from Dudley. It's quite spare, and I don't think they give him as many toys, but, at the very least, Harry looks cared for."
"Good," Albus exhaled slowly. "That's good."
"I simply sat in his crib and cuddled him. He's very adorable." Minerva chuckled. "He looks exactly like Dalton did."
"Ah, so he's all McGonagall and Scrimgeour," Albus said, smiling. "All the better for him."
"When we officially meet him, I'm sure that we'll find bits of Athena in there." Minerva tipped his chin so he was looking into her eyes. "Remember, Athena had the best of you."
"I'd argue Dalton had the best of you, too."
"He did, but he also had the worst," Minerva snorted. "Not even Aidan's relatively calm demeanour could save our son from my temper—or my stubborn nature."
"Those aren't the worst parts of you."
"Heavens, I'm almost scared to ask what you think are my worst traits."
"You don't have a 'worst trait', Minerva."
"That is categorically false, and you know it."
"Sometimes, I believe your worst trait is also the one I appreciate the most: your undying loyalty and trust in someone, no matter who they are or what they've done."
Minerva rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Oh, Al—"
"I am sorry, Minerva," Albus whispered. He turned away, but Minerva could still see a few tears fall off the end of his crooked nose. "I am sorry for everything."
"What do you mean, everything?"
To her chagrin, he began to sob. "I'm sorry I couldn't convince Lily and James to make me their Secret Keeper. I'm sorry I couldn't save them. I'm sorry for the pain you're in, day in and day out, because I wouldn't let you keep Harry.
"I'd love to raise Harry with you, but it's too dangerous—and for that, I'm sorry, too. I am sorry for saddling you with a man who won't give you what you want and desperately need, even when it is within my power."
"Oh, Al," Minerva murmured again. "Look at me, please."
He did, and his eyes were redder than she'd ever seen them.
"How many times do I need to tell you to not take responsibility for the decisions of others?" She traced his face gingerly. "Hmm? The decision to trust Sirius Black"—Minerva couldn't prevent herself from spitting the name—"was not yours. Black can lay his betrayal at no one's doorstep but his own."
"Is he the only one to blame? I find myself apologetic on that score, as well. I should have given Sirius more disciplinary action after the Snape incident."
Minerva snorted humourlessly. "I appreciate that—you were too lenient. However, I doubt giving Black more detention or even expelling him would have deterred him from joining forces with Riddle."
"But—"
"But what? But perhaps then James and Lily wouldn't have chosen Sirius as their Secret Keeper? It's possible, but so are a great many things, Albus. It's certainly not a given. Knowing James, he likely would have stayed in contact with Sirius. In all likelihood, Sirius still would have attended the Potters' funeral. Now, knowing what we know, we can assume that he likely gave Riddle our location, and no one realized it at the time. We blamed ourselves instead—and nothing good came from doing that. Besides, you more than made up for your leniency when you helped sentence Sirius to life in Azkaban."
"Even still, I have been at fault for a great many things that have led us to this point." Albus looked at her, his eyes a mix of shame and hope. "How can you still love me after everything I've done?"
The look he gave her made Minerva realize that he was more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. He had always been able to hide his vulnerability under some other emotion: fear, protectiveness, anger.
But, in this moment, it was just Albus. Albus, who wanted his wife to absolve him of what he viewed as his worst transgressions.
"Albus," Minerva said softly, "the fact that you think letting your children down is worse than anything else you've done proves to me that you've changed and grown. I remember a time when you felt your biggest failure was loving Gellert."
"You mean Grindelwald?" Albus spat. He tried to turn away, but she was aware of his tricks, and cradled his head between her hands before he could succeed.
"I mean Gellert," Minerva corrected. She brushed his hair away from where his tears had glued strands to his face. "You loved a young man who was battling his own demons. You didn't do anything terrible because of him, and you left when it became clear what his intentions were."
"Ariana—"
"Ariana was not your fault," Minerva replied firmly. "Whether it was your spell or not, no one knew she was in the room until it was too late. You didn't intentionally murder your sister. You took that loss and used it as a reminder of what was right, and what wasn't. Do you remember what happened when we fought Gellert that final time? He saw Ariana as a nuisance. You saw her as the wonderful person she was."
Albus sobbed. "She's the first person I truly failed."
"Al—"
"I wish you could have met Ariana."
Minerva softened. "I'm sure I would have loved her."
"She was troubled, but she was a lovely person."
"Being troubled doesn't automatically make you anything less than a good person."
"Does that apply to me?" Albus whispered. "Do you see me as a good person, despite my troubles?"
Minerva searched his face, knowing that he would refute any immediate response. After a moment, she said, "I believe you to be a well-intentioned person with a good heart. Sometimes—like in this situation with Harry—your brain rules over your heart, and you shut out all emotion. But," she sighed, "as I said, you're well-intentioned, and I don't believe you would ever seek to cause anyone harm, least of all myself."
"No, I love you very, very much." Albus kissed her softly. "I don't know how you can accept me for who I am."
Minerva considered the question. She had often had the same thought over the years, usually when her husband was pulled in many directions, and none of them led to his wife.
But she always came back to the same answer.
"You do things for me that no one else can," Minerva answered truthfully. "I love you like I can't imagine loving anyone else, and you know how my heart ticks. You love me the way I need to be loved, and if accepting that love means I need to make sacrifices, then I will."
He kissed her again, but this time, with more passion.
"Al?" she asked when his hands moved from her face to fuss with the buttons of her nightgown.
"Please, let me love you," he murmured into her neck.
Minerva refrained from rolling her eyes. Sex was the one thing he knew he could do to prove his love, the one thing that Minerva wouldn't give to anyone else whilst Albus still roamed the earth.
"All right," she conceded. She lay back against the pillows, sensing that her husband needed to be in complete control tonight.
Minerva said nothing as he unbuttoned the front of her nightgown and slid it off her shoulders. She sighed softly as he put his mouth on her breasts. He spent more time lavishing her chest than he usually would have before he kissed his way down her stomach.
"Albus..." Minerva moved to pull at his pyjama bottoms, but he pulled back.
"Let me do something for you once, all right?" Albus smiled when she nodded, and he set himself to his new task of teasing her centre.
Minerva felt a lazy smile grace her face as he brought her to climax not once, but three times.
When she saw him Banish his pants with a wave of his hand, she grinned.
As he moved slowly inside of her, she felt her breath hitch. Ever since Albus had sent Harry to the Dursleys, their love-making had been tentative. Albus had thought he didn't deserve her, or that his wife was simply indulging him. For her part, Minerva didn't know how to feel fully intimate with the man who had torn her heart to shreds.
But now, after his confession, Minerva was content to let her husband love her.
After, Albus pulled Minerva close so she was draped across his chest. "Minerva, I worship you."
She laughed softly. "Worship? That's a new one."
"It's true." Albus kissed the top of her head. "I love and respect you greatly."
"And I love you." Minerva pecked his lips lightly. "But, Al?"
"Mhhhm?"
"I appreciate your love and respect, but I also think I deserve your trust."
"Minerva." Albus pulled back and looked at her, frowning. "I trust you."
"Not fully." Minerva smiled sadly. "Please, just promise me that, one day, you'll tell me the whole truth behind Harry remaining at the Dursleys."
"You know about the blood wards, and our lack of clarity—"
"All of it, Al. There's more to the story than that."
"All right," Albus responded, swallowing firmly. "All right."
"Thank you," Minerva murmured. "Let's sleep now, shall we?"
Unsettled at what he'd been forced to promise, Albus flicked his wrist, and doused the lights.