Resolving a Misunderstanding

As Albus readied himself for sleep that night, he kept remembering Minerva’s hand on his shoulder, how her little bright ripples of magic tickled against his, but they were steady and she was steady. She was so lovely standing there on the stair, bravely facing her claustrophobia with her eyes wide open, her skin flushed from the torch light, her black hair reflecting dark reddish highlights that were so difficult to see under ordinary light, and her eyes darkening with the shadows around them. Minerva.

Minerva. Albus lay in bed and thought of Minerva. Of the dream he’d had earlier of Minerva kissing him on the warm cliffs, of the Minerva who called him awake, who opened his windows and draperies by hand, and who, with one slight smile and a light pat on the knee, could unwind the tight knot in his chest that he hadn’t known was there until it was released. Minerva, who followed him confidently. Minerva, who shared chocolate cake with him and who wiped a bit of cream from his beard. Minerva, who cared about him and wanted him to take care of himself.

Albus stretched under the covers. The windows were still open from earlier. He normally slept with them closed, but the breeze was cool and gentle and reminded him of Minerva. He was glad he had brought Minerva down the back steps, and not only because it helped her learn to cope with claustrophobia, but because he had enjoyed helping her overcome it. As he began to drift asleep, he remembered the faithful confidence with which Minerva looked at him, heedless of her own fear. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and then, when they reached the base of the stairs, she slid her hand down his arm and settled it at his elbow. The narrow hallway had never seemed as short as it did that evening when he had to take his leave of her. Minerva’s expression as he kissed her hand seemed, in the torchlight, to mirror his own feelings for her. How he had wanted to lean forward and kiss her! But he hadn’t wanted to spoil perfection, and so he bade her good night and raced back to his quarters. There was no point in berating himself about it. She had seemed . . . pleased with his company, after all. He would continue to restrain himself slightly, of course, but Albus decided that it was much easier to behave normally around her if he . . . acted normally.

Perhaps it would be easier for him to behave normally if he knew she was involved with someone, he thought. It would put her in the category “off limits,” and perhaps his attraction might subside some. Albus doubted it would disappear entirely, Minerva was so absolutely wonderful, but it might help him interact with her more easily. And she wouldn’t misread his intentions – well, she wouldn’t accurately read his intentions, to be more precise – if he made a few minor slips occasionally. After all, she wouldn’t dream he would have any intentions toward her if she were involved with someone else.

He had laid such hopes that Quin might be a suitable beau, but whenever he brought up his name, Minerva was quite adamant that she wasn’t interested in him and he wasn’t interested in her. Of course, Albus could scarcely imagine that an obviously vigorous young wizard such as Quin wouldn’t find Minerva attractive, but perhaps they were temperamentally unsuited. It could be that Minerva might find a more . . . intellectually inclined wizard attractive. Not that Quin had ever struck him as anything less than intelligent, but he wasn’t the academic sort, either. Albus cast his mind about for an intellectual wizard whom Minerva might find compatible. Slughorn . . . well, aside from the fact that Horace had been Minerva’s teacher, Albus had always had the impression that Minerva didn’t particularly like the Potions master. Birnbaum was a good man, solid, intelligent . . . but he was going to be leaving for Germany at the end of the next year. Of course, that might be attractive to Minerva; she spoke German and had enjoyed her time there during her apprenticeship. Still, he wasn’t particularly academic, but more the hands-on type. Herder was brilliant, but introverted and somewhat dour. He kept odd hours, too. Which was to be expected of an astronomer, Albus supposed. Pretnick might have been a candidate, but with his current problem . . . the adjustment to his new life would take all of his energy right now.

Ah-ha! Flitwick! Oh, Filius might be just perfect for her. Of course, he was a tad shorter than Minerva . . . well, more than a tad, but Minerva probably wouldn’t mind that. Filius was certainly intellectual, as well as out-going and cheerful. And he liked music and could escort Minerva to concerts. He could be quite a bit of fun for Minerva. He was older than she . . . by more than a few years. But he was younger than Minerva’s father by at least a little, Albus thought, so that was all right. And Filius couldn’t be luckier than to have a witch such as Minerva by his side. Now . . . how to get the two of them together, just to get things off to a start . . . .

Albus ignored the slight pang in his heart and fell asleep thinking of various ways he could encourage his two friends to begin seeing each other . . . but his dreams that night were only of Minerva, Filius never making even a cameo appearance. . . .

Minerva got ready for bed, still in something of a daze. How could a simple hand kiss, a mere look, an ordinary “good night,” put her in such a state? Hopefully Albus hadn’t noticed; he was surely gone too quickly to have observed her racing pulse, her inability to breathe, her flushed cheeks . . . if he had, she hoped he put it down to her claustrophobia.

Opening her window to let in the night air, Minerva remembered opening Albus’s windows that afternoon. It was good of him to have apologised for not taking her concern for his health in the spirit in which she had meant it, but she had long forgiven him his slight irritability. It was understandable that, after sleeping in a warm room in the middle of the day, as well as being over-tired, Albus might be a little cranky. And if you couldn’t be cranky with your friends, who could you be cranky with? He did seem to be somewhat sensitive about his age, though. Hardly a characteristic that she associated with Albus Dumbledore. And yet he could joke about being cantankerous. It was odd . . .

Minerva slipped between her sheets. The last week had been surprisingly eventful. She had thought that now that school was out, her days would stretch before her pleasantly but lazily. That certainly had not turned out to be the case. It seemed that from the moment she had tried to meet Albus to discuss the NEWT-level curriculum, it had been one thing after another. From her embarrassing rant in Poppy’s office and dinner with Albus the previous Friday to this evening’s late-night dessert with him, Minerva felt as though far more time had passed than just a little over a week.

She believed that she and Albus were growing closer, although she thought she had to learn to take his occasional peculiar moods more in stride. Minerva had never thought of him as the moody sort before this, but perhaps she simply hadn’t been in a position to notice. He had always been slightly absent-minded or distracted when he was working on a problem or deeply absorbed in thought, but this seemed to be more than just being somewhat distracted. It seemed that it had started after she had returned from the Gamps. It could be that it all had to do with his reluctance to talk about Valerianna, Minerva supposed. She could understand that – she would be embarrassed to have dated a witch like her. If she were a wizard, of course. And then to have walked in on her and some other wizard in your own cottage . . . being cuckolded right under your nose and having your friends and colleagues knowing about it couldn’t have been pleasant. Especially when you were commonly known for your intelligence and magical power. Albus was a generally modest and unassuming wizard, but it couldn’t have been easy for him to have looked foolish in front of so many people. Poppy was right: it was good that Gertrude and her co-conspirators had acted when they did, or Valerianna’s shenanigans would have become even more widely known, perhaps even been reported on in the Prophet.

Minerva didn’t know what was wrong with Valerianna. Why would she have been catting around with other wizards when she had Albus’s attentions? One look from him, one murmured “good night,” one brush of his lips on her hand, and she was practically in a swoon, and Minerva didn’t think of herself as the swooning type. How could Valerianna not have appreciated Albus? Minerva was very glad she hadn’t, though – she hated the thought of Albus with anyone else, but the thought of him with a witch so beneath him as Valerianna – that was unbearable. No, she’d rather he were with Gertrude. Albus likely was looking for someone with more wit and glamour than Gertrude, though, based on his choice of Valerianna.

Minerva sighed and rolled over. For all she knew, he and Gertrude were a couple, and were just keeping under wraps, just as Wilhemina and Hagrid had done with their relationship. Perhaps that was why he chose her as his Deputy despite the fact that she wasn’t a Head of House. Minerva had never heard of such a thing before.

But Albus wouldn’t walk Gertrude down his secret backstairs. His spiral staircase would dump her right on the second floor where her rooms were, after all. But Albus had walked her down the narrow, worn, stone stairs, letting her hold onto him the whole way down. And then he had walked her down the hallway and kissed her hand. He had looked so handsome in the flickering flames of torches, his rose and gold robes heightening the colour in his cheeks. . . .

Minerva fell asleep with Albus’s face before her, remembering the feel of his warm lips just barely brushing her skin, and she smiled as she slept.

“So, what’s the verdict, Madam Pomfrey? Did I pick up some strange and exotic illness while I was at St. Mungo’s the other day?”

Poppy laughed. “No, you’re perfectly healthy, Professor, if a little rundown. I wouldn’t notice it in anyone else, but your magical levels are a bit lower than usual. I think you just need more sleep and to watch your diet. More veg and fruit, for you. And,” she said, waving her wand in an Accio, Summoning a large brown bottle, “this vitamin potion, since you do insist on overdoing it.”

“Oh, not a vitamin potion!” Albus made a face.

“It’s flavoured, Professor – not like the stuff your mum probably forced down your throat.”

“My ‘mum’ was a Muggle-born – it was cod liver oil from her. It was my Aunt Sarah who forced the vitality potion down my throat. And both of them dreadful.” Albus shuddered.

“Mmm, well, this is better. Lemon-lime flavoured. I can do grape for you next time, if you prefer, but I’m out of grape at the moment. It’s on my inventory list to restock. One teaspoon before bed. Let it work while you sleep.”

“All right. . . .” Albus sighed with a rueful smile. “Perhaps I am entering my second childhood, then. Naps in the afternoon, vitamin potion at night. Next thing you know, and I’ll be having cambric tea and toast for my supper!”

Poppy laughed even harder at that. “Oh, my, Professor! I may not know a more youthful or childlike wizard than you, but I would never say you’re entering your second childhood! More like that you never truly left your first one behind entirely.” Poppy looked at her old teacher with a fond smile. “And knowing how hard you work, that is not a bad thing. A certain witch I know could learn a thing or two about lightening up and having fun. I’m always trying to get her to loosen up some. She was old before she was young, I always tell her! Say . . . while she’s here in the castle this summer, you could look after her for me – make sure she has a bit of fun.”

Albus raised his eyebrows. “Of whom do you speak?”

“Why, of Minerva, of course!”

Albus chuckled. “Yes, she can be quite the serious, sensible one, but I’ve known her to have fun, too.”

“Well, there, you see! That’s perfect. You have the ability to get her to lighten up and have fun, and she might be able to get you to get enough rest and take your vitamin potion. It’s perfect, if you ask me. Now run along, get your work done now so you aren’t up half the night with it – I know you, Albus! I need to be getting ready to go to my gran’s – and as she would say, you should make hay while sun shines!”

Albus laughed good-naturedly and let himself be shooed from the infirmary by the young witch. Now to find Minerva and go over what had transpired at the meeting. And maybe get her to “lighten up,” as Poppy suggested. Funny witch, Poppy. Always had been a warm-hearted girl; it hadn’t surprised him a bit when she went into training at St. Mungo’s.

He had made the perfect plans for Minerva for that evening. Well, ostensibly, they were for Filius. But they were really for Minerva. To make her happy! Dinner reservations for two at Delancie’s for her and her new colleague. She and Filius were in for a real treat. Everything was to go on his account, and he’d made it quite clear to Mr Delancie that the two were to want for nothing. No prices on the menu. Whatever they wanted, they were to have. Yes, Minerva would have a good time that evening. And Filius would be the envy of every wizard who saw them together.

Albus smiled wistfully. He wished it were he who was bringing her to dinner that evening . . . but she would have a fine time with Filius. And if they hit it off, so much the better. No better place for a first date than Delancie’s, either. It was romantic . . . posh . . . perfect food, perfect service. Albus sighed as he reached Minerva’s rooms and waited for the Silent Knight to announce him. He could faintly hear Fidelio barking within, and the Knight creaked back into his portrait and bowed before Minerva opened the door.

“Albus!” Minerva smiled. “I wasn’t expecting you – I thought you’d owl, or send an elf, or something – come in, come in!”

“Thank you, my dear. I hope I have not arrived at a bad time?”

“Not at all. I just got back from my morning walk.” Minerva laughed. “Part of my plans for my self-improvement this summer. A walk every morning either before or after breakfast.” Minerva showed Albus in and gestured for him to have a seat on the sofa. “Perhaps you might like to join me occasionally?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, I might,” Albus said with a grin. “I’ve just come from Poppy, and I believe she would approve of it for both of us.”

“What?” Minerva was puzzled.

“I’m supposed to take better care of myself and you’re supposed to have more fun. It sounds as though morning walks would fill the bill on both scores!”

“So . . . how are you, Albus? I mean, not generally, what did Poppy say?”

“Just that – that I should take better care of myself. Get more sleep. Eat my veg. She sounded more like my mother than the Hogwarts matron. But you will be happy to know there is nothing wrong with me. No exotic bugs picked up at St. Mungo’s. I’ll just have to stop burning the midnight oil so frequently. And,” Albus said, pulling the large brown bottle from the pocket of his robes, “she gave me this. Vitamin potion.” He made a face.

“Oh! That’s one of Murdoch’s, I think,” Minerva said, looking at the label and smiling. “Is it the grape, the cherry, or the citrus one? You needn’t make that face, Albus! He has to put a child-proof charm on the bottles so the kiddies don’t try to down an entire bottle at once. Melina was his tester, and she is very finicky. He never was able to develop a chocolate-flavoured one that she would approve of, hence, no chocolate vitamin potion!”

“Poppy said it was lemon-lime. You’ve had it, then? Not too foul?”

“Not foul at all. And I assume that she told you to take it at night before bed, not in the morning? Yes, that’s Murdoch’s special formula, then. Um, Albus, did Poppy mention anything else about the potion?”

“No, just to take it at night . . . yes, that was all she said,” Albus said after reflecting on it.

“Well, when you first get up in the morning, there may be a bit of a surprise.”

Albus raised his eyebrows. “A good surprise or a bad surprise?”

“Neither . . .” Minerva blushed. “It’s just that there’s a slight side-effect that Murdoch was never able to get rid of . . . it’s not dangerous, and it fades with time. By the second week of taking it, you’ll be back to normal.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of this,” Albus said.

“You’ll pee bright purple. Then it goes lilac.” Minerva was bright red. “Then it fades completely. Perfectly harmless. It’s whatever it is he puts in it to help you assimilate the nutrients overnight. It interacts with something else. I never felt compelled to understand it, and Potions was never my forté, so I can’t say precisely what it is. But it is perfectly harmless. Only a little alarming the first time. And your body gets used to it and it stops.”

Albus laughed. “Thank you for the warning, Minerva! That might be a peculiar thing to wake up to, indeed!”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you are well – and happy that someone with more authority than I was able to tell you not to work so hard.”

“She didn’t say that precisely. She did say to make hay while the sun shines. So I will work hard while conditions are right for it and try not to burn the candle at both ends anymore.”

“Good! I am happy to hear it. But I assume that you are here to discuss yesterday’s committee meeting, not to talk about the state of your blooming good health.”

Minerva told Albus about the meeting and gave him a parchment with a concise summary of the discussion. “For your records, Albus. Is there anything else?”

“Thank you, my dear.” Albus hesitated. “You know, Minerva . . . no, no, I can’t ask this of you. You are already doing so much. . . .”

“What is it, Albus? I am happy to help out, you know that.”

“Well, it’s just that I would like to bring Filius out to dinner tonight – I even made reservations for this evening – but it turns out I can’t. Gertrude has gone back home, or I might ask her. I would just like Filius to feel welcomed properly. And I am afraid that it might look as though I am trying to improperly influence him if I were to bring him out to dinner the night before your next meeting. Of course, we can do a little something for him at the end of August before school begins, but he is taking his own time to be here in the middle of the summer . . . .”

“I would be happy to take Filius to dinner tonight, if you like. Where are the reservations?” Minerva asked, thinking of the Three Broomsticks or perhaps Madam Puddifoot’s, although she didn’t think Puddifoot did anything suitable for dinner.

“Delancie’s in Diagon Alley.”

“Delancie’s? That’s rather . . . posh.” Minerva didn’t want to use the word “expensive,” but that’s what she was thinking.

“Yes, well, I thought . . . the best, you know. And you needn’t worry about paying. It’s all going on account. Just go, and you two enjoy yourselves!” Albus felt a pang. Especially now that he was sitting there with Minerva, he wished it were he who was accompanying her to dinner. Dinner anywhere. Plaice and chips eaten from a Muggle newspaper, sitting on a park bench . . . . But it was too late now. And it was for his own good. If Filius and Minerva hit it off, it would help him to rein in his inappropriate feelings, he was sure of it.

“All right, Albus. It does seem a bit . . . extravagant, though,” she said, thinking that, other than Poppy’s “housewarming,” she hadn’t had much of a welcome. But she had arrived in the middle of the school year, after all.

“Well, as I said, he has come all the way from Provence, interrupting his holiday, and he’s not even on staff yet.”

“Do you do that for all your new staff members, Albus?” Minerva asked.

“Goodness, no.” And it suddenly occurred to him why she had asked – he had not brought her out to dinner when she started at the school. Indeed, he had left her waiting in the snow at the gates for a half an hour. “It’s just a way to thank him for his extra effort, that’s all. And I hope you enjoy yourself, too, Minerva.” He wished he could be there . . . she would no doubt put on her finer robes, take time with her hair, and look her loveliest.

“Well, I’m sure Professor Flitwick would enjoy your company more than mine, but I will do my best. You know, if it turns out you are available for dinner, you could come with us. Couldn’t you?”

“Perhaps, my dear, perhaps. Thank you for doing this for me. I think you will like Filius. He is a delightful person.” And he might be able to make you happy, Albus added to himself. And that thought brought a now-familiar pang to his heart. But he fixed a smile on his face and thanked Minerva again before taking his leave. He had work to do before lunch, then he planned on visiting Robert in hospital again. If it weren’t for his duties calling, he would have preferred to spend time with Minerva. He was half way out the door when she called behind him.

“Albus, don’t forget your vitamin potion!” She handed him the bottle with a smile.

“Ah, yes! Madam Pomfrey would be most displeased if I were to start out disobeying her orders right from the first day! Thank you, my dear. I hope you have a pleasant day – and evening!”

“And you, Albus.”

At ten o’clock that night, Albus felt the slight tingle that indicated that someone had given the password to the gargoyle and was coming up to his office. He had already put on his nightshirt and dressing gown and was drinking chamomile tea in his sitting room, about to settle down with a book. His mind had been distracted that whole evening, wondering how Minerva and Filius’s date was going. Of course, neither of them knew that it was a date, but a witch and wizard could scarcely have dinner at Delancie’s and not have it be a date, in his opinion. Not if the witch was even half as enticing as Minerva.

Albus set his cup and saucer down and went down to his office to wait for his late-night visitor. He was only slightly surprised when he opened the door to see Minerva standing there in her dress robes, looking quite lovely.

“Hello, Albus! Oh, you’re ready for bed! I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just thought you’d like to know that Filius and I went to dinner and it was very nice.”

“You’re back early, Minerva.”

“Well, the reservations were for seven. We ate. We talked. We strolled down Diagon Alley. We returned to Hogwarts. He is a very sweet wizard, you were right, Albus.” Minerva was glowing.

Inexplicably, Albus’s heart sank. She had enjoyed herself.

“You know, Albus, I think we should try to set him up with someone. Do you know – well, of course, you do, but I didn’t – he’s been a widower for twenty years! There must be some nice witch out there for him. I thought of Poppy, but I don’t know if he’s quite her type . . . and I don’t know him well enough to know his type.” Minerva flopped into one of the armchairs. “Oh, but I did eat too much, Albus! I hadn’t been to Delancie’s in a few years. I’d forgotten how good the food is! I only remembered the prices,” she said with a grin. “But we had the most peculiar menus. No prices on either of them. So let me know if I went over-budget, Albus, and I’ll repay it.”

“Oh, no, my dear! I asked that you have the witches’ menus. Well, that’s what they used to call them – I didn’t want either of you to think about the prices. I wanted you to order whatever you wanted.”

Minerva sighed. “Well, that we did. Thank you, Albus. It was lovely. The only thing that would have made it more lovely is if you had been there.” She smiled warmly.

Albus’s cheeks went pink. “That’s kind of you – but didn’t you have a good time with Filius?”

“Of course I did! You don’t think I’d consider setting him up with one of my friends if I hadn’t, do you? He is thoroughly sweet, very amusing, quite knowledgeable on many subjects. A generally delightful dinner companion. But he’s not you.” Minerva grinned. “I’m sorry, Albus. I’m afraid I didn’t only eat too much. We both had a little too much to drink. We had to Flee, I mean Floo, back from the Leaky Cauldron.” Minerva giggled. “We Flooed to the Hog’s Head. He thought it would be fun to have a nightcap there before we came back to the castle. We made quite an impression!”

“I’m sure you did!” Albus said, thinking of the seedy pub and the normal attire of the usual clientele. Minerva looked beautiful in her bright green summer robes. He saw now that her flush was probably due to the wine and whatever other spirits she had imbibed, and not simply from the pleasure of Filius’s company. “You look very beautiful tonight, Minerva. I am sure there wasn’t a wizard there who could tear his eyes from you.”

Minerva giggled again. “Filius was quite funny. He told me he was a duellist and would defend my honour if anyone accosted me . . . once he wasn’t drunk! Of course, he wasn’t really drunk, only a bit tipsy. For such a little fellow, he can hold his liquor. I just had a small gilly water at the Hog’s Head – I was surprised they even had that – but he had a double fire whisky. And this after splitting a bottle of wine with me and having two brandies, as well.” Minerva sighed and stretched, catlike. “I can’t imagine where he puts it!”

Albus averted his eyes; her stretch was far too . . . sensual. “You know, I was having some tea – chamomile tea – upstairs. Would you like to join me? You look as though you could use something nonalcoholic, if you don’t mind my saying so.” Albus smiled at Minerva, amused by her attempt to sit up straight and look sober.

“That would be very nice! But,” Minerva said, hesitating and knitting her brow seriously, “I shouldn’t keep you up. You are not supposed to be burning the midnight oil, after all.”

“It’s far from midnight, Minerva, and spending time with you is far from work.”

“All right!” Minerva popped up from the chair with as much energy as she had shown lassitude in her languid stretch a moment ago, and they started over to the stairs.

Albus chuckled. “So, you had a nice time.”

“Mmhm. We should go sometime, Albus. They have trifle!” she announced.

“Do they, indeed?” Albus replied, humouring her. “And did you have the trifle, my dear?”

“No, no.” She stopped on the sixth step up and tapped it with her toe. “This is the naughty step! Dumped me right on your floor!”

“Yes, but it won’t ever again, Minerva. Come on up and we’ll have that tea, hmm?”

“Someone should have warned me, Albus. It wasn’t very nice.” She shook her head seriously.

“No, you’re right, it wasn’t very nice. I am sorry, my dear.” He took her arm and escorted her the rest of the way up the spiral brass stairs.

“I had a fruit torte. Berries. Very good berries.”

“Ah! I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She was back on the dessert again. “Here, have a seat, Minerva. I will fetch us some fresh tea.”

Albus called Wilspy and asked for a fresh pot of chamomile tea and another cup for Minerva.

“I hope Blampa doesn’t make her send ginger newts. I don’t think I could eat another bite.” She leaned her head back. “I’m sleepy, too, Albus.” She stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s a good time of night to be sleepy, I suppose. Here, have your tea, my dear,” Albus said gently and handed her a cup.

“Thank you.” She took a sip. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit silly tonight, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine! Poppy was just saying this morning that you need to have more fun.”

“Did she? I’ll have to bring her someplace boring for her birthday dinner, then.” Minerva laughed. “I’ll bring her to the Hog’s Head! It’s not boring, but it certainly would be unexpected!”

Albus laughed along with her. “I don’t know if they could survive your presence twice in one week, though, Minerva.” He looked at her with a bright smile in his eyes. “So, Filius enjoyed himself, as well?”

“Yes, I think so. I left him at his rooms. There are too many stairs in this castle on some days, Albus.”

“You didn’t need to come see me, Minerva; you could have gone straight back to your rooms.”

“Oh. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, not at all! I am very glad you came by, I’m just saying you didn’t need to feel obligated.”

“I didn’t. I wanted to see you.” She looked at him and sighed, smiling. “It was a good idea. . . .”

“Yes, it was.” Albus smiled. “More tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Albus poured her another cup of tea and asked her about what she and Filius had talked about during dinner. Minerva leaned back, sipped her tea, and told Albus all about the dinner and their conversation and the people they had seen in the restaurant and on the street.

After her third cup of tea, a more sober Minerva said, “It’s getting late now, Albus. I should leave you to get a good night’s rest.” She set her cup down and pushed up from the sofa, standing.

Albus stood, as well. “Would you like to go down the back way again, my dear?”

Minerva hesitated. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all.”

Again, Albus led Minerva through his bedroom to the backstair and opened the doors for her. As they started down the worn stone stairs, the torchlight flickering around them, Minerva asked tentatively, “Do you mind if I . . .” Her hand hovered in front of her as Albus turned his head and looked up at her.

“Please, feel free . . . I don’t want you to stumble or to feel nervous.”

Minerva rested her hand on his shoulder and let out a small, happy sigh. He was warm and comforting. She could feel his shoulder through his lightweight nightshirt and dressing gown. They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Albus opened the door for them. He turned and looked up at Minerva where she stood on the second step. He held out a hand to her.

“How was that, Minerva?”

“Better than last time. But it’s reassuring to have you there.” She smiled and took his hand.

“I’ll walk you back to your rooms.” He held up his other hand. “No, no protests tonight. I am confident you could make it back quite safely and securely on your own. But I would like to see you to your door.”

Minerva nodded. “All right, Albus. Thank you!”

Albus slipped Minerva’s hand to his elbow and patted it. “Good . . . good.”

He led her down the side corridor then to the main staircase down to the fourth floor. They didn’t speak, but just walked in comfortable silence until they reached the portrait of the Silent Knight.

“Good night, my dear Minerva!”

“Good night, Albus. Thank you for the tea – and don’t forget to take your vitamin potion tonight!”

“I will take it as soon as I return. I promise.” Albus looked down at Minerva and smiled. “Sleep well.”

“You do the same.” She gave her password to the portrait. “Alvarium album.” The door clicked open.

Albus leaned forward just a little and bent his head, placing a light kiss on Minerva’s cheek. “Good night,” he whispered, his breath warm on her face.

Then Albus was gone, and Minerva stepped into her sitting room, her cheek still tingling from his kiss.