Albus Dumbledore is Caught Being A Sneaky Bitch
It’s been a year since Lily and James’s deaths. Since their son, Harry, went to live with his god awful muggle relatives. Minerva has done her best to finish her grieving. To mourn her lost students, and still be there for her new students.
She had never thought, when she took this job how often it would break her heart. Yet, she lives. And she lives as she always has, hard headed and bold.
Minerva takes common comfort in her regular tea’s with Albus. Who usually brings ridiculous treats and has a more than obnoxious habit of talking in riddles.
“Have you not stopped mourning?” Albus asks, sparing a glance at the broach on the breast of her robes. A white lily surrounded by a circle of black jewels. It had been her mother’s broach and her mother’s before her. A symbol of mourning.
“Forgive me if I don’t quite find myself ready to finish,” says Minerva, her voice almost scathing with the headmaster, “but I lost many dear students in that war. And I will grieve until I see fit to finish grieving.”
“You can’t spend your entire life grieving the dead, Minerva,” And Albus doesn’t mean for it to be rude or cruel but Minerva has never taken criticism very well so she glares him down nonetheless.
“Who said I only grieved the dead, Albus.” She says coldly, taking a sip of her tea that now tastes like ash in her mouth, “I grieve the living who bear the scars of that war, I grieve the students I lost to an insane man, I grieve the families that will never be whole again.”
“I grieve for Molly Weasley who lost her brothers, I grieve for Harry and Neville who will never know the hero’s their parents are, not truly.” she snaps, and now that she’s started she’s found that it’s rather hard to stop herself, “I grieve for Remus Lupin who refuses to allow himself to grieve. I grieve for Sirius Black because I cannot fathom his betrayal and I grieve for Peter and Lily and James who were lost to his betrayal. I grieve and I will continue to do so until I see bloody well fit and if it disturbs you so much, Albus Dumbledore you can find yourself a new head of Gryffindor house and I will grieve in peace.”
“I never said it bothered me,”
Minerva doesn’t answer this statement, merely takes another sip of her tea, scowling as she realizes it’s gone cold.
Albus stares at Minerva for a long moment.
“You can not fathom Sirius Blacks betrayal?”
Minerva hisses, can’t seem to concoct any other sound to truly explain her outrage and grief and hysteria.
“Of course, I can’t,” she sighs.
“And why not?” Asks Albus, “He was a Black, known pure blood fanatics. He’d displayed aggressive behaviour before, he’s never been known to make the best of choices, Minerva.”
Minerva stares at Albus for a long, strained moment as she thinks of Sirius Black. She thought of his long messy hair and grey eyes. His lopsided grin and kind heart. She thought of evenings having tea in her office only to be joined by the boy. Who seemed to merely want the company. And of course, Albus couldn’t know. Couldn’t possibly understand her love for that boy as she’d watched him grow into a handsome and kind and brave young man.
“Sirius Black,” she says softly, all the outrage gone, left with only heart broken grief, “was a kind boy. Who felt stronger and harder than anyone I know of. He felt passionately. He loved and hated passionately. He was my student and I failed him horribly, it seems.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Minerva.”
Minerva sighs. Thinks again of Sirius Black, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at James Potter. The way he called James’s parents mother and father in a way he had never been able to call his own. She thinks of catching him and Remus Lupin, giggling and pressing kisses to one another’s foreheads like love sick children. She thinks of the way he would look at her when she praised him, as though he’d never thought himself worthy of such kind words.
“I cannot fathom Sirius Blacks betrayal because it makes no sense,” she mutters, “it makes no sense.”
Albus blinks and Minerva sees it, the flash of panic and he knows it makes no sense. He knows.
“Because it isn’t true,” she whispers and her outrage is back. Takes over like a spark turned into a forest fire as her rage mounts, “Sirius Black never betrayed Lily and James. He would never betray Lily and James.”
“Minerva--“
“And you knew,” Minerva snaps, “you knew and you allowed an innocent man, barely out of his fucking teens go to Azkaban, why?! Who the hell are you to decide, Albus.”
“That is enough—” And Albus has never once snapped at her, never broken the soft old man routine, not once in the dozens of years they’ve known one another, and it just pushes her further.
“No, it is not enough.” She retorts, “you’re right, Albus, I find I’m finished my grieving.” She plucks the broach from her robe, tosses it at Albus’ head, “I think it’s high time I did something instead.”