Requests
Albus sipped his peppermint tea and smiled as he remembered his meeting with Minerva. He had been glad to offer to help her – and Melina, of course – with their slight problem. He had been impressed by the thoroughness of Minerva’s research. He could have saved her quite a bit of time, had she spoken to him about it earlier. Minerva told him that she had wanted to speak with him about it for some time, but an opportunity had never presented itself, so she had used the time to do her research. Albus felt a twinge of regret that he had not made himself more available to Minerva during the term. He now recognised that he had likely subconsciously avoided spending time with her in order to avoid the need to confront the issues that had recently presented themselves rather explosively. He was not usually a man to avoid problems, or even to avoid acknowledging his own weaknesses, but when it came to his relationship with Minerva, it seemed he had repeatedly turned away from her rather than face the truth about his feelings.
Albus sighed. The trouble with facing the truth about his feelings was that now he also had to face the sad fact that came with it: no matter what his feelings were, no matter their strength or their breadth, he could not act upon them in any way other than as a friend. He could no longer bear using the phrases “as a grandfather,” or “with fatherly affection.” What he felt for Minerva made those expressions seem perverse, and Albus knew that however inappropriate his feelings for Minerva might be, they were not perverse. She inspired in him only positive feelings of love and desire, and to claim otherwise would degrade them both.
Minerva had looked quite beautiful that day, rosy-cheeked and happy, her green robes bringing out the colour in her eyes, her hairstyle fetchingly revealing the lovely nape of her neck just begging to be kissed, calling forth the vision of him loosing her hair from its hairpins and running his fingers through it . . . These kinds of thoughts would get him into trouble, he was sure of it. But their meeting had been quite satisfying, he thought with a smile. And there was no doubt that when he had left her at her door that evening, she had been reluctant to say good-night – as had he. Of course, her feelings were of a different nature than his own, but he was happy, nonetheless, that she enjoyed his company.
He was reluctant to go to bed; he felt as though, if he were to go to bed and sleep, he would wake up to an entirely different reality in the morning, one in which Minerva viewed him as nothing more than her employer and former teacher. Albus feared that their friendship was ephemeral – a fear that he recognised was unreasonable, even foolish, given all that they had shared over the last few days, let alone what they had shared over the past twenty years. He set down his teacup and prepared for bed. As he fell asleep, he smiled, remembering how lovely it had been to spend more time with Minerva, even if it was just discussing Hogwarts business.
After agreeing that Saturday the twentieth would be the best day to meet with Melina and Brennan, whose name had seemed oddly familiar to Albus, the two had moved on to discuss school business. Albus had broached the subject of Gryffindor House again, and their need for a new Head of House once Wilhelmina left. Minerva asked whether he had approached Professor Pretnick about the opening; she said that even though he was a little on the quiet side, he seemed quite nice, and she had heard good things about his teaching.
“I think that he could do quite well, Albus, given the opportunity. And since we don’t know who will be applying for the Magical Creatures position, we can’t count on there being another Gryffindor to choose from.”
“Well, I believe we can, my dear.” At her quizzical look, Albus smiled and said, “Have you forgotten that you are a Gryffindor?”
“Oh, well, I couldn’t be Head of House,” she stammered.
“Why ever not?”
“Well, I’m too young. And I haven’t been here very long –”
“I don’t believe that there is an age qualification for the position, Minerva. And Robert has been at Hogwarts only six months longer than you, having taken the job when Professor Hardwick retired at the end of last year. I think you would do quite well – unless you don’t want to be considered for some other reason?”
“No! No, I just never . . . I always see you as the Head of Gryffindor House, I suppose. It is odd to imagine anyone else in that position, and very difficult for me to see myself as Head.”
“I understand from Wilhelmina that you have been a help to her the last few months.”
“I offered, just once, to help her out when the students were having dinner in their common rooms, and after that, she did ask me my opinion on a few things, yes.”
“She said that when she hasn’t known what to do about a student who’s having some problems, she asks you for your advice, and it’s been invariably good.”
“I am glad she thinks so, Albus, but really, I haven’t done much. It was all just common sense.”
Albus grinned at her broadly. “You see, Minerva, you would do quite well! Would you think about it, for me?”
“Of course I will consider it, Albus. I hope that Pretnick doesn’t feel passed over or slighted – even if it’s only by six months, he’s still been here longer than I have. And he’s older.”
“As I said, there is no age qualification for the position, and I rather doubt that Robert will mind, but I will speak with him, nonetheless, and ask him his opinion. I believe he will also find you the best person for the job.”
The two went on to finish discussing the seventh-year curriculum, by which time it was noon. Albus hesitated to ask her to have lunch with him in his quarters; he felt that too many such invitations might make her suspicious of his intentions. Instead, he suggested that they take a break to eat lunch in the staff room and then pick up their meeting immediately afterward. Minerva expressed some surprise, saying that she hadn’t thought they had anything else to discuss, but that she would be happy to continue their meeting in the afternoon.
After eating lunch with a few of the others who were still at the castle, they walked together to his first floor classroom and office.
“I thought we could meet in my classroom office, my dear. Probably the last meeting I will hold there.”
“That’s fine, Albus.” As they entered his office, Minerva looked around wistfully. “I remember the first time I was ever in this office. It was my second year, and my Transfiguration teacher was supposedly quite upset with me because I had Transfigured a textbook.” She smiled slightly at the remembrance.
“I, too, remember that meeting very vividly. I am eternally grateful that you found my Gryffindor tea parties so dull that you had to bring a book with you!” Albus laughed.
Minerva laughed, as well. “It wasn’t that they were boring. I was just . . . shy, I guess. I spent most of my childhood around adults. I didn’t have a lot of practice talking with people my own age; I never knew what to say. And I always felt like I never understood the jokes, and as though I found things funny that no one else seemed to. Those Teas were actually good for me, I think. They made me socialise more, and it got easier as I got older. But you are right. I cannot imagine what my life would have been like if I hadn’t come to know you, Albus.”
“I believe we would have become friends, regardless,” Albus said. “I doubt I would have failed to notice your talent for Transfiguration, and we . . . we have always got along well. With a few minor hiccups, of course – to be expected in any friendship. But you are right: it is difficult to imagine life without having come to know you when you were a student and, later, as an adult. Extract Minerva McGonagall from my life over the last twenty year, and it seems quite barren!”
Minerva laughed. “Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been at all barren, Albus. But it is very sweet of you to say so.” She looked at him for a moment, “My life, on the other hand, has been shaped so completely by my acquaintance with you, I find it quite impossible to imagine what it would have been like without it. I am certain I would be a different person.”
Albus was suddenly serious, as well. “I do hope that my presence in your life has been a positive thing. I know that you could be doing something quite different now if you hadn’t agreed to come to Hogwarts to teach.”
“Yes, that’s true, Albus. That’s one reason the Ministry wouldn’t let me out of my contract early – they had offered me the position of Deputy Minister for Magical Accidents and to be put in charge of the Committee for Experimental Transfiguration, reporting directly to the Minister for Magic; they were hoping that if I stayed through my full contract term, they would be able to convince me to take it. I told them last February that I had already agreed to come to Hogwarts, but it wasn’t until I signed the contract last June that they actually believed I was serious. They were rather displeased with me, I’m afraid!” She laughed.
“You might have become a Minister one day, if you had stayed, Minerva. Do you ever regret –”
“No, I don’t. I never wanted to become a Minister for anything, Albus. If anyone had ever asked me, I would have told them that I wanted to be the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. I didn’t really believe it would ever happen . . . you were here, and you were clearly not going anywhere. I knew it was likely that you would become Headmaster when Dippet retired – although given that you have refused to be considered for Minister of Magic, I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t refuse Headmaster, as well – but when I heard that Dippet was to retire and you were going to be Headmaster, I still didn’t really believe I would be selected to be the next Transfiguration teacher.”
“Why ever not?” Albus asked, mystified.
“I’m so young. It is very rare for anyone under fifty to become a teacher here, and it is almost unheard of for someone under forty. And to follow you . . . I was sure that there would be some older, very learned Transfiguration master who would be more appropriate than I,” she answered.
Albus smiled. “I could not hand my students over to anyone else. I never envisioned anyone but you taking the position. I do not know what I would have done, actually, if you had refused me – it. I would have advertised and found everyone else wanting.”
Minerva laughed. “I could never refuse you anything, Albus. And certainly I could not have refused this job!”
“Well, that brings me to one of the reasons we are meeting here, my dear. I noticed that you have settled in quite nicely in your new classroom, so do not feel you must agree to my proposal, but I was wondering if you would care to use this classroom from now on. If not, there may still be some things here that you might like for your own classroom –”
“No! Oh, I’d like to use this classroom, if that’s really all right?” Minerva seemed hardly able to contain her excitement.
“Of course it’s all right, Minerva!”
“I’d always imagined teaching in this classroom,” she said, turning to look out at the classroom behind them. She sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t admit this . . .”
“What, my dear?”
“Well, I’m sure you will find it silly of me, but . . . I had always assumed I would be teaching in your old classroom, the classroom in which I was a student. I was . . . disappointed to find I would not be. Just one of those ridiculous expectations I had . . .”
“No, not ridiculous at all, Minerva! I wish you had said something to me earlier. I thought it would be easier for you if you had your own classroom, a neutral place to begin your career here. It is difficult to come in and take over a class in the middle of the year. I thought that the students would adjust better to the change if their classes met in a different room. They might have been more likely to accept you for who you are as a teacher, and less likely to make constant comparisons with the teacher who had taught them up until just a few weeks before in that very classroom. I have no doubt that our teaching styles are somewhat similar, since I taught you, but we are . . . temperamentally different. I didn’t think it would be fair to you, my dear, to place yet another hurdle in your path.”
Minerva was silent for a moment as she stood in the doorway and looked out into the eccentric Dumbledoresque classroom. Albus became nervous, afraid that she had taken his words as a criticism or as a negative comparison with himself. Just as he was about to say something reassuring to her, Minerva turned back to him, a slight smile on her lips. “You are always so thoughtful, Albus. I was just thinking of how I would have felt as a student if, half-way through the year, another teacher came into this classroom and replaced you, even if I had been anticipating the change for a year. You are right, of course. I would have been the teacher who was teaching in Professor Dumbledore’s Transfiguration classroom.” She sighed and walked back toward Albus. “I do wish you had explained that to me immediately. Even before I got here, in fact. I was rather unprepared – psychologically and practically – for teaching in a formerly vacant classroom.”
“I am sorry. I just didn’t think of it.” Albus could now understand better something she had said the previous morning at breakfast. “Had I known that you were looking forward to it so, I would have explained and let you know it would be only a temporary situation, just until you were settled.” He stood and sighed, then reached out a hand to her, resting it lightly on her arm. “I think that we both have to learn to talk to each other more. Perhaps it is because we have known each other for so many years . . . and in different contexts. Minerva, my dear, please feel free to talk to me, both as Headmaster and as your friend.”
“I never wanted to seem as though I were asking for anything from you based on our friendship, I suppose. And I also know that you have many demands on your time. I did not want to become just another burden in your life.”
“Minerva, I have told you on many occasions that you could never be a burden. And if you ask something of me as a friend, I shall respond as a friend. If you ask something of me as Headmaster, I shall respond as Headmaster. And if there is ever any confusion or any question, we will discuss it, all right, my dear?”
“You are right, Albus. And very sensible.” She grinned at him. “I guess it’s just an adjustment for us both.”
“Indeed. And I’m still just learning how to be the Headmaster. Despite all of my years here as Deputy Headmaster and the duties that Armando delegated to me, it really has been quite different to actually be the Headmaster. Gertie has been a great help to me. She’s actually more sensible than I. In fact, she asked me why I’d given you the classroom I had. Of course, she never told me that I should impart my reasoning to you, but I’m sure she believed that I would draw that conclusion.” He shook his head slightly.
“I am glad that Gertrude has been such a help to you as your Deputy, Albus . . . She has been a good friend, as well?” Minerva said, her tone indicating the question in her mind.
“Very much. As I said, she has a great capacity for loyalty, and I have been fortunate enough to have somehow earned that loyalty. I hope that you get to know each other better while you are visiting her in Cornwall.”
“Yes, well, perhaps that is her intent.” Minerva looked out the window and saw Hagrid crossing the lawn, looking somewhat downcast. “Albus, do you know if anything is bothering Hagrid?”
“He has not mentioned anything to me,” Albus replied.
“As you know, we had tea yesterday. I think he’s a bit lonely, but . . . it seems as though there’s something more going on . . . he was perfectly cheerful just a few days ago.”
“It was good of you to go down and see him, Minerva.” Albus smiled. “Seeing the two of you yesterday, talking there by the lake, reminded me of the summer you spent at the castle and the way you spent your entire savings to buy Hagrid that broom then took the time to teach him to fly it.”
Minerva laughed. “As I told Hagrid yesterday, I had fun, too. And it was just a used broom, nothing special, but as soon as I saw that it could carry a family of four, I thought of Hagrid.” She laughed again, remembering their games of Swivenhodge that summer.
“Nonetheless, it was good of you and demonstrated, once again, your sweetness and generosity of spirt, my dear.”
She looked over at him, pulling her gaze from the window, and they caught each other’s eye. Minerva’s breath suddenly hitched, then she remembered her Occlumency exercises and calmed her breathing and her pulse. There was such warmth in Albus’s gaze, Minerva felt that his mere glance could sustain her life. Despite herself, she raised her hand to his face, where it hovered a moment before she allowed herself to briefly caress his cheek before she dropped her hand again.
“You are very kind to say such a thing, Albus,” she said softly, lowering her eyes from his, suddenly feeling very exposed despite her physical calm.
Albus cleared his throat. Her touch had unnerved him. She was so dear. Despite his self-control, he wished he were able to tell her, just once, how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, and then hold her, nothing more, just hold her.
“It is not kindness that inspired me to say it, but truth, or if it was kindness, it was yours, not mine,” he said, somewhat hoarsely.
Minerva looked up at him again. They were so close; she could take one step toward him and wrap her arms around him. But she would not. She had promised Albus truth, but she had never promised him that she would tell him everything. In fact, she had warned him that she could not do so. Still, at some point, avoiding the truth was tantamount to a lie. And just that morning, she had thought that she should have told Albus some part of the truth all those years ago. Perhaps there was some room for a little bit of the truth now.
“Thank you, Albus. To hear you say that . . . you are very important to me, Albus. And to have your good opinion means a great deal to me.”
“You have that, Minerva, and much more,” he replied quietly.
For a long while, they stood in companionable silence by the window, looking out across the lawn, watching Hagrid toss bits of food out to the Giant Squid, neither Minerva nor Albus aware that their hands, which rested side-by-side on the sill, had crept closer to each other until they were just touching.