Forever in the Sun
Albus lay in bed and cast another cooling charm. The room was comfortable enough; it was he who was uncomfortable, uncomfortable with the feelings that he had allowed to rise in him that afternoon, feelings that kept returning. He was old enough and self-controlled enough, he told himself, to be able to conquer both his emotions and his physical responses. His Occlumency, his long life, his costly defeat of Grindelwald, even his study of alchemy, all should have prepared him to meet the troubles of life with equanimity. Not with complete emotional detachment, of course; that would render him inhuman. But he should be able to calm himself . . . but Minerva was no trouble of life, no problem to be solved, no obstacle to be overcome. No, it was in himself, the trouble, the problem, the obstacle.
He closed his eyes and relaxed completely. Albus knew why he wasn’t able to overcome the obstacle within. He did not truly wish to overcome it. That is why all of his efforts had been misdirected, external ones, and why they had all failed. But as he had told himself before, and as he completely, fully believed, love was a good thing. Love should not be an obstacle to be overcome. Love should be embraced. Love should be acted upon. It should be expressed. If expressed properly, love would surely help him to overcome his difficulties. His decision to behave normally around Minerva was incomplete without an acknowledgment that he would be acting out of love for her. It would simply have to be an appropriate love expressed in appropriate terms. And one of those appropriate expressions would be to allow her to live her life as she chose; not to push her toward Filius Flitwick or Quin MacAirt, but to encourage her once she did choose her wizard.
Quin MacAirt. There was no denying that the young wizard had a great deal of affection for Minerva. Albus believed from seeing their interactions that it would take very little for the Irish wizard to fall in love with Minerva. Minerva, on the other hand . . . he was not entirely sure of her feelings toward Quin. Clearly she liked him and was comfortable with him – far more comfortable than she was in the company of most, although she had persisted in addressing him as “Professor” until after Quin had left. She did allow Quin to tease her, though, and he had made her laugh. That was definitely a very good thing for Minerva. It was as Poppy had said the day before: Minerva had been old before she was young and she did occasionally need to “loosen up,” as the matron had put it. Quin could do that for her. Yes, Quin might be suitable . . . and if Minerva chose Quin, he would support her completely. And if she were interested in someone else, well, he would encourage that. As long as the person weren’t anything like Valerianna, of course. Then he would have to intervene, just as Gertrude had done for him.
Feeling more comfortable, Albus fell asleep . . . and dreamed of Minerva.
Ah, that had been such a mistake, to have fed It when she should be overcoming It. If only she could redirect It, if only she could feel so strongly for another . . . It would certainly surrender then. Minerva turned her pillow over and fluffed it vigorously before lying back down. How could she have allowed herself to settle into his embrace as she had done? If he had somehow sensed what she had felt . . . that would have been beyond embarrassing.
Merely thinking about the Side-Along Apparition to which she had so selfishly and foolishly agreed caused Minerva to grow warm and a heavy tingling to arise in her. She would not think about it. She would not think about what it had felt like to have his arm around her and to feel his magic flowing through her own. His right arm had been around her and his left hand had been at her waist . . . he hadn’t done that during their first Side-Along. Despite her resolution not to think of Albus in that way, Minerva imagined what it would have felt like if he had drawn that hand up her side and down again, then back up to her breast. She would have raised her face to his and kissed him, drawing on his lips with her own, tasting them. Minerva shuddered and moaned.
Oh, gods, she could not, she would not think such thoughts. She had always managed to push them aside in the past. But tonight, she could still feel his reassuring solidity and the hum of his magic around her . . . her warmth grew. She had to think of something else. Anything else, anything that would keep her from tormenting herself like this.
Quin. Minerva had feared for a moment in the Leaky Cauldron that Quin had figured out that Albus was the wizard whom she loved so desperately. All that bit he had said about her thinking Albus was great, just as he did, and then his seemingly random comment about Occam’s Razor. Perhaps he had arrived at the correct explanation . . . but if so, he had had the good grace to allow her to change the subject. But then they had met Albus at Florean’s. Minerva had been thrilled to see Albus, but had tried not to let Quin see just how happy she was. Yet Quin had made comments during coffee that made her again suspect that he did believe it was Albus whom she loved . . . what would she say if Quin came right out and asked her? She couldn’t lie, not about her love for Albus. She couldn’t ever deny him that way.
It had embarrassed her, the way that Quin had said they would just have to love her. And Albus had smiled and nodded. It was no doubt just a little teasing to Albus. A lump came to her throat, but Minerva swallowed past it, reminding herself that surely Albus did love her in some way . . . he walked her through dark places and he kissed her good night, after all. On the cheek, of course. But Minerva couldn’t envision him doing that if he didn’t love her . . . perhaps as a daughter. Now Minerva blinked back tears. She didn’t want him to love her as a daughter or a granddaughter or anything similar. The least she would want would be for him to love her as a friend, but, oh, how she wished he could love her as something more.
Minerva drew a shuddering breath and let it out in a gasping sigh. Quin had said that where there’s life there’s hope . . . she wondered if he would still say that, knowing it was Albus whom she loved so. Quin would surely see that Albus was beyond her reach. And yet . . . Quin had also said that if the wizard appreciated her, paid her sincere compliments, and cared for her – no, that was when he didn’t know who it was. If he knew it was Albus, he would tell her that she had been right, Albus was hopelessly beyond her reach. She should just settle for friendly walks, friendly kisses, friendly compliments. But she would always wish they were more. Quin’s words echoed in her head . . . there will be only sadness and longing, and your joy will die. Do not let your joy die, Minerva. You love him. Let him know that he holds your heart. Let him love you.
Tears leaked from her closed eyes, and Minerva fell into a restless sleep, still denying Quin’s prediction that unless she gave Albus her love openly and freely, she was destined for pain and the death of her joy. And yet her dreams that night were only of Albus. Albus holding her, Albus in sunlight, Albus in moonlight, Albus in the wild wind, Albus in the calm, still night, Albus holding her forever. . . .
It seemed to Minerva that Saturday morning had come far too quickly. She had visited Pretnick again on Thursday, bringing him a few books she thought he would enjoy, and he seemed slightly more cheerful than he had two days before – well, not cheerful, but less gloomy. The committee had met again, and it seemed as though they had simply raised more questions than they had found answers, but Minerva was pleased that at least they had agreed to draft a proposal at their next meeting on the twenty-second. It was bound to be a very long meeting, Minerva thought with a sigh.
The night before, Minerva had brought Poppy out for dinner and drinks. She had asked her friend if she wanted anyone else along, but Poppy had declared that she had had a big party earlier in the day, and just wanted to spend some time with her alone, and that had warmed Minerva’s heart. Poppy was a very dear friend – even if she had persisted in asking Minerva more questions about Quin. Minerva had finally asked her if she was interested in being set up with him on a date, herself, a proposal which Poppy had appeared to consider, but then reject.
“It’s not that I think you’re interested in him, Minerva – I see quite clearly that you aren’t. It just sounds to me as though perhaps he’s grown a bit fonder of you than you’re admitting. Of course, if you’d like me to go on a date with him to try to draw him off, I’d be willing to make the sacrifice for you,” she’d said with a laugh.
Minerva had just rolled her eyes and changed the subject, telling Poppy, instead, about the plans that she and Melina had made for Brennan, and about Dumbledore’s participation. “Dumbledore seems to think it will go well, although he is a little concerned that it may be too much of a shock to Brennan, and he’ll need to Obliviate him.”
“Won’t it be too late to Obliviate him by that point?” Poppy asked, puzzled.
“It’s a two-stage process, you see. The first is the oath and the initial light binding which will enable us to tell Brennan about the wizarding world, the second is the spell that will allow him to see all things wizarding even after he’s left the flat. And the heavier binding, if he consents to it. I don’t think that Dumbledore will perform the unmasking spell, though, if he doesn’t agree to the stronger binding.”
“And Melina is prepared for all this?”
“It seems so . . . this binding isn’t really like a marriage, you know, although marriage would be the next logical step for the two of them. But it does entwine their lives in an irrevocable way. Brennan will need to fully consent to it before Dumbledore will perform it, unlike the light binding and the oath, which would be impossible for Brennan to fully consent to, given that he has no idea that the wizarding world exists and we can’t tell him until he’s taken the oath and been bound. The first binding will actually be to everyone present. That’s one reason that Murdoch will be there. Dumbledore thought it best.”
And here it was, Saturday morning, and she had a wicked headache from the night before. It wasn’t as though she’d had too much to drink . . . well, perhaps just a little too much, but Poppy had insisted on trying several very peculiarly named drinks. It was the mix of the different liquors that had done her in. Minerva had always pestered Murdoch to develop an anti-hangover potion, but he’d always just grinned and said that the best potion for that was the alcohol itself – not to drink it – and, barring that, lots of water. What good was it to have a Potions master in the family if he didn’t develop useful potions, Minerva had often grumbled.
But she forced herself out of bed at her usual time. Albus had agreed to join her on her morning walk, and it wouldn’t do, the first time he stopped by to pick her up, for her to tell him she couldn’t go because she was nursing a hangover. He’d think she was developing into a lush, especially since he’d seen her tipsy earlier in the week after her dinner with Flitwick.
By the time Fidelio came into her bedroom landscape and barked to announce Albus’s arrival, Minerva was feeling more like herself. She’d had a long shower and three cups of strong tea. She hadn’t been hungry when she’d woken up, but now her stomach was growling.
Minerva opened the door to Albus and greeted him with a smile.
“Good morning, Minerva. You look lovely today, as always!” Albus said.
“Thank you. You look nice, yourself.” Unlike many of his more colourful robes, these were of earth tones, sandy colours mixed with dusty greens and muted blues. They were very unusual, both in colour and cut, with deep pleats at the sides, and Minerva was surprised to find that she liked them. And that they looked so attractive on him.
“But come in, please, come in,” Minerva said as she caught herself staring at him. The robes were also cut to emphasise his masculine figure; they must be more robes by Madam Malkin. There was a woman who could appreciate Dumbledore’s build. As long as she maintained only an artistic appreciation, Minerva thought. “I just need to get my shoes on and I’ll be ready.”
Just as Albus had done several days before, she brought her shoes out into the sitting room to put them on, toeing off her slippers and pulling on her stout walking shoes. “You know, I’m looking forward to this walk, but I’ll definitely be looking forward to breakfast when we get back!”
“You know, I was thinking something similar, so I took the liberty of asking Wilspy to prepare something for us before we left. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not, but I had wanted to get out while the dew was still on the grass, Albus.”
“We will! She’s preparing a basket for us, my dear. If a picnic breakfast would be all right with you . . .”
“Oh, that would be lovely!” Minerva’s face lit up. “Will we eat by the lake?” Minerva asked, thinking of their picnic so many years before.
“Actually, knowing how much you enjoy climbing around on the cliffs by your parents’, I know of a spot that takes a bit of work to get to, but which I think you would enjoy. I am glad to see you are wearing stout shoes!” he said with a smile. “But only if you’d like to; otherwise, by the lake would be fine.” They could always cast a few privacy charms, he thought. There were more people about the castle than usual at this time of year.
“That sounds like fun. I’ve never climbed any of the cliffs near here – they were forbidden when we were students, and although some of my classmates climbed them, it didn’t have the same allure for me, since I could always climb the ones near my home, and without breaking any school rules.”
“I’m actually thinking of the cliffs around behind the castle to the south of the lake. It’s a bit of a hike to get to them and we’ll no longer be on Hogwarts grounds. I hope your appetite can wait until then.”
“I think so. I had a few cups of tea – if we’re taking such a long walk, perhaps I should use the loo first.”
Albus smiled. “A wise precaution. I already had my ‘purple pee’ this morning,” he joked.
Minerva blushed, but laughed before excusing herself.
Fifteen minutes later, Albus was leading Minerva toward the Forbidden Forest, their picnic basket following them.
“We’re only skirting the edge of the forest, Minerva,” he explained. “It’s the most direct way to get where we’re going. Otherwise, we could take the long way around the lake, then cross the tracks over by the train station and walk east from there. That would greatly increase our wait for breakfast, however! We will actually be to the south and east of the castle.”
“All right, Albus. I don’t mind the forest. Not that I’d want to wander about in there the way that Hagrid does, but I sometimes walk along the edges of it in my Animagus form.”
Albus nodded. “I suppose I needn’t tell you to be careful, Minerva – but as an Animagus, you’re rather small. Some creature might think you would make a tasty snack.”
“I think they’d have a rather nasty surprise. I’ve become much quicker at transforming back and forth, Albus. Besides, I never do really enter the forest itself. I just walk along the edge, you know. And I’d likely sense something before it could get me. I’d be transformed before it knew what had happened.”
“Still . . . promise me you will be very careful, my dear.”
“Of course, Albus.” She smiled at him, curious. “You really are concerned!”
“Of course I am – I already have too many staff members to replace this year!” he joked. “But seriously, Minerva – I don’t want anything to happen to you, and anything that happened in the forest could be . . . quite serious.” He seemed to wince at the thought.
“Don’t worry, Albus. I won’t become some beast’s snack. I promise!” She grinned at him.
“Good!”
They had begun walking through the forest already, and they ran into the wall that extended from the Hogwarts perimeter partway into the forest.
“We’ll follow this along for a bit until it gets low enough to climb over. We could use magic, though, if you prefer.”
“No, this is supposed to be exercise, after all. Perhaps on the way back!”
Albus chuckled. “We can alway Apparate to the gates on the return trip if it gets late.”
“Yes, I suppose. But I told Melina I would be at the flat at one-thirty. That leaves us a lot of time, even if we want to take a shower and have lunch afterward. I mean,” she said, reddening, “if we each need to clean up before lunch.”
Albus was glad he was slightly ahead of Minerva at that point, for his mind went straight into the shower with Minerva, and he blushed at the unexpected thought.
He cleared his throat. “Of course. And you are sure you don’t want me to arrive until two-thirty?”
“Yes, Melina and I discussed it in detail. She and Brennan will get there sometime between one-thirty and two; we’ll talk to him for a little while, sort of prepare him for your arrival.”
“It’s bound to be a shock, the whole thing, no matter how much time we take, but perhaps you are right – ease him into it all gradually. And here we are, my dear! I haven’t done this walk in a long while, but this is where I usually crossed, I believe. Can you make it over the wall here, or would you like to go a bit further?”
Minerva looked at the stone wall. She thought if she could get a good purchase on it, she could heave herself up onto it. The top of the wall came just to her shoulder. “I think so. I may need a hand, but I think I can manage this.”
“I’ll go first, then, shall I? Then I can sit at the top and give you a hand if you need it.”
Minerva nodded. The wall was still broad enough at that point that they could sit quite comfortably on it. Albus grabbed hold of the stone at the top of the wall, one palm flat, the other hand gripping a slightly-projecting stone. Minerva didn’t have time to blink and he had pulled himself up and easily swung his legs to the top of the wall. Now he was kneeling, looking down at her.
“Ready to give it a try?”
Minerva nodded, somewhat daunted by Albus’s performance. She didn’t think she could be as graceful. Suddenly a thought came to her. She backed up a couple feet and surveyed the wall. Yes, she could be as graceful.
“Catch me, Albus!” And in a flash, Minerva transformed into a tabby cat, putting great effort into making it the smoothest, fastest transformation she could. She crouched and leapt, knowing she could make the height and having complete faith that Albus would catch her so she wouldn’t have to scrabble at the edge. And Albus did catch her. Minerva couldn’t help but hold onto his robes a bit with her claws, but she retracted them immediately as she felt secure in his arms.
“Well, now, that was an unexpected trick, Minerva! And most impressive!” His voice was warm in her ear and rumbled against her as he held her to his chest.
Albus petted Minerva’s head and neck. Minerva purred and rubbed against his beard and bumped his chin with her head. How she loved and adored this wizard! Oh, she would stay with him forever. She was his. . . . and she would be with him, wherever he might be, there she would find herself, and only so could the world be. She heard him murmuring to her, words of praise and pride. And ah! He kissed her head, her wizard did, he held her close, she felt his heartbeat, the beat of that heart which held all of her love, and she purred more strongly, giving herself over entirely to her feelings, burrowing more closely to him, her wizard, as he held her firmly, she, safe in his arms. There in the sun she could sit with him forever . . . forever his, forever in the sun, forever with him . . . .