Resolving a Misunderstanding

Minerva had spent Monday with Poppy, shopping in London and having lunch in Diagon Alley. She was somewhat disappointed that Poppy told her she would consider allowing her to use the Healer’s Pensieve in the Hospital Wing once she had returned to the school for the new semester. Minerva couldn’t blame Poppy for being noncommittal; the reason she had given for wanting to borrow the Pensieve had been weak, to say the least, and she put aside any disappointment, and the two witches had a good afternoon. As evening approached, Poppy asked Minerva if she would like to come back with her to her Muggle grandmother’s house for supper. Minerva declined, saying that she was going to Murdoch’s. When Poppy’s eyes lit up and Minerva could tell she was struggling not to invite herself along, she ended her friend’s torture by asking her if she would like to come with her.

“I don’t know what Murdoch has planned, whether we are eating there or going out, since Quimpy is still at my parents’, but I’m sure you would be welcome, either way.”

Poppy didn’t even make a pretense of protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, and accepted the invitation with alacrity. Minerva, who had been unsure whether the attraction between the two was one-sided or mutual, was amused to see Poppy trying to flirt without appearing to do so, and was mildly surprised to see that her brother was responding. Murdoch had occasionally dated over the years, but those occasions had been rare and short-lived. Still, when Minerva left at ten o’clock with a few bottles of Vitamin Potion for Albus, Poppy was still there, and she and Murdoch were chatting happily.

Minerva’s Tuesday was spent quietly. She took a relaxed stroll on the grounds, avoiding the high cliffs, but rambling eastward, downhill then up again, wading through small streams and skirting the larger ones. She had shortened her old robes to just below the knee and placed an Impervius charm on her shoes. Despite her leisurely pace, Minerva was quite tired when she stopped after a couple hours and conjured a table and chair then removed her picnic lunch from her pockets. As she sipped her cider and ate her sandwiches, Minerva found herself wishing for company. This was pleasant, and something that she had always enjoyed doing on her own, but she needed distraction. Her thoughts kept turning to Albus, to Quin’s encouraging words about the possibilities for a relationship with him, to her own feelings for Albus, and to her wavering hopes. It was ironic, Minerva thought, that, now that she and Albus were developing a closer relationship and she was now sure of their friendship, her longing for him should be growing. In a way, it was more difficult now than when Albus had been so distant during the term. She would never want to go back to the way things had been then, though. That would be dreadful, worse than it had been at the time, now that she had grown so accustomed to his friendship and his affectionate gestures. Minerva never would have thought it could be so difficult to be away from him for so long – or for such a short time, actually.

Sitting there, the breeze blowing through the leaves, Minerva fell into a daydream, remembering some of the special moments that she and Albus had shared over the past few weeks, and how kind and sweet Albus had been to her. As her thoughts drifted to her stint as “Morag the Cat,” she smiled. She hadn’t fully appreciated the humour in the situation at the time, but looking back, she actually thought it was quite amusing. Even Wilspy’s choice of clean robes was funny now. Of course, it had been uncomfortable at the time . . .

When she and Albus had taken his narrow backstairs down to the seventh floor and she had tripped on the hem of her robe, she had certainly been uncomfortable then. No doubt Albus had been, too, although perhaps it hadn’t disturbed him at all. He might not have even noticed that his hand had come to rest on her bare skin, not even an inch from her breast, when he caught her and kept her from falling. She certainly hadn’t failed to notice it, however, and as she sat there now, remembering the way his warm hand had felt on her skin, Minerva closed her eyes. She called to mind Albus’s face as he had looked at her in the flickering torchlight, and she remembered how, the night before, he had sleepily placed a lingering kiss on her forehead and how she had wished she could just drop her parchments and put her arms around him. When he caught her there, standing two steps below her in the narrow stair, his face had been almost level with hers. Had Albus kissed her then, in that lingering way, he would have had to kiss her cheek, or her lips. . . . Minerva swallowed and grew warm, imagining how it would have felt if he had not removed his hand but had drawn it forward to touch her breast, and if she had leaned toward him and he had kissed her, lingering, his lips moving against hers as he brought his other hand around to the small of her back, then stepping up one stair and pulling her closer. She would hold onto him tightly, wind her fingers through his hair, press against him, and he would push down the fabric covering her breast and . . . . Minerva moaned and put her face in her hands. This way lay madness, she was sure. And how could she look him in the eye, knowing the thoughts she had had about him?

She had to find something to distract her. Minerva stood and banished the table and chair then Apparated directly to her bedroom. Quickly, she freshened up and changed into her pale blue robes. She would visit someone. Get away from the house. There was no point in returning early to Hogwarts. Not only were her parents expecting her to be at home when they returned from Amsterdam that night, but Albus was attending the Wizengamot that afternoon. She cast her mind about. Murdoch would be busy in the Apothecary, Melina was at work at the clinic, Morgan and Fiona, if they weren’t busy trying to make babies, as her mother had put it, were likely busy with their editing and proofreading . . . Malcolm. Malcolm might not be home, but if he was, he wouldn’t be busy, Minerva was fairly sure. And if he weren’t there, she could pop over and see if Perseus and Helen were up for a visit. That decided, she Apparated to the street outside Malcolm’s flat.

Glancing at the steely grey sky and thinking that it was just as well she had cut her walk short, as it looked as though it was going to rain soon, Minerva pulled the small black metal handle and heard a rattley old bell ring within, then the sound of shuffling came from the other side of the door. Malcolm’s plump, grey-haired landlady opened the door a crack and peered out; when she recognised Minerva, she opened it further.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Twiffle. I came by to see my brother. Do you know if he’s in?”

“No, ma’am, don’t believe he is. Went out early this morning. A witch came by for him. Mr Malcolm said something about a job he was doing for her. Don’t think he’s come back yet,” the short witch replied.

“All right, thank you,” Minerva said, slightly disappointed. Of course, just because her brother didn’t have a job didn’t mean he didn’t work. It was just erratic.

Fortunately, Uncle Perseus and Aunt Helen had been pleased to see her, and she spent the afternoon with them. She Apparated back to the house just before her parents Portkeyed home. Minerva greeted them more enthusiastically than they had expected, but they were pleased to be home, as well. Minerva spent the rest of the evening with her parents, playing chess with her father while her mother read, and retiring early in hopes that she could fall asleep quickly, then wake up to return to Hogwarts in the morning.

Minerva had chafed at her mother’s insistence that she eat a good breakfast before she left. It wasn’t as though there was no food at Hogwarts, and the Apparition was just a short hop, hardly anything requiring all her energy. But she ate, then kissed her parents good-bye and Apparated directly to the Hogwarts gates. She had had a secret hope that Albus would be out taking a walk, as he had the day she returned from the Gamps, but he hadn’t known when to expect her, and she tried not to feel disappointed when she walked up from the gates to the castle and met no one.

Minerva climbed the four flights of stairs to her room, reminding herself that beginning the next day, it would be an even longer climb, but it was a light-hearted thought. She gave the password to the Silent Knight and entered her small sitting room. It felt odd, knowing that this would be the last day that she would call these rooms home. She let her carpet bags drop to the floor when she saw a large bouquet of flowers on her little window-side table. The others that Albus had given her at the beginning of July finally had to be discarded a few days before she left for her holiday, but now another bouquet had replaced it.

She walked over to the table and smiled to see the cheerfully eclectic selection of flowers, their scent sweet, but not overpowering. There was a note beside the vase.

“31 July

“Dear Minerva,

“I noticed when I returned one of your books that your sitting room was empty of flowers. Soon you will be moving into new rooms, but I hope that these will brighten your last day in these.

“I will be working in my office this morning. Feel free to drop by if you have a minute. I am still planning on our having lunch together to discuss the warding and your transition into the position of Gryffindor Head of House. We can begin the changes to the rooms in Gryffindor Tower this afternoon.

“Welcome back, Minerva!

“Yours,

“Albus”

Minerva smiled happily. Flowers! How very thoughtful. Somehow, she doubted that he provided flowers for everyone’s sitting rooms, and certainly not personally. She stroked the petal of the magical acanthus and smiled as it shivered beneath her finger and the colour changed from pale purple to a full prism of colours before fading back to purple again. Minerva gazed at the flowers and thought of what Quin had said to her a few days before, that Albus’s contradictory behaviour might be the result of seeing her in a new light and not knowing how to act. Perhaps Quin might be right. These flowers, their presence in her room to greet her, could be seen as a romantic gesture if it came from some other wizard, why not when it came from Albus? But the flowers could also just be the gift of a generous and caring wizard who felt guilty about having neglected his friendship with a former student. Albus could still view her as just a girl and have no romantic inclinations toward her at all. And how embarrassed they would both be if she misread his intentions! How she wished she knew what he felt for her, how he felt. Minerva wanted desperately to believe Quin, and to believe that Albus was coming to view her in a new light, a romantic one, or even that he harboured some slight awareness of her as a woman, as an attractive witch. The flowers were beautiful, and she would tell him that when she thanked him for them. However he might feel about her, she could certainly thank him warmly.

Minerva waved her wand and sent her carpet bags sailing into her bedroom. Albus said she could drop by if she had a minute, after all, and this morning, her only reason for being at the castle was his presence. She would stop by and see him, thank him for the flowers, and confirm their lunch plans. Minerva hesitated at her door only a moment and looked down at her robes. They were her light green summer robes, nothing special, but they had appealed to her when she dressed that morning. They were fine.

She was unsurprised when the door at the top of the spiral stairs opened to admit her to the office; she had always known that Albus had some way of knowing when the gargoyle let someone pass, but now that she was aware of his special “door charm,” it seemed less mysterious to her. Fortunately, it didn’t seem strong enough to usually wake him, but Minerva still felt slightly bad about having disturbed him that particular night after he had had a long and tiring day. But then, if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had that lovely, unselfconscious, lingering kiss on the forehead, either. Which might have been a good thing, given some of the thoughts and feelings that single sleepy kiss had engendered in her. . . .

Minerva cleared her mind as she crossed the threshold. Albus, who was wearing unusually plain navy blue robes, stood to greet her.

“Minerva, good morning!” He smiled brightly.

“Good morning, Albus.”

It didn’t appear that he was going to come around the desk, but, before she could reflect on it and change her mind, Minerva boldly went around the desk herself, reached up, and kissed his cheek.

“I’m very glad to be back,” she said taking one step back, but leaving her hand resting on his upper arm. “And it was wonderful to find the flowers in my room. Thank you very much, Albus. It was terribly sweet of you.”

Albus smiled, his cheeks slightly pink. “I am glad you liked them, Minerva. I picked them this morning. I hoped they would provide you with a warm welcome.”

“They certainly did. I was very happy to find them, and your note. I am looking forward to our lunch this afternoon.”

“Yes, I am sure you must have many questions about your installation as Head of Gryffindor, as well as about the warding and the changes to the rooms in Gryffindor Tower.”

“Of course, but it will also just be nice to have lunch with you.”

Albus gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk. “Would you care to have a seat?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Minerva said, realising that she had been standing there, her hand on Albus’s arm, half-waiting for him to return her gesture of affection.

She sat down in one of the wooden armchairs in front of the desk and suddenly felt at a loss for words. She had no reason to be there. It had been foolish to come. She should have simply waited until lunchtime to see him.

“So, how was your tea on Sunday? Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?” Albus asked.

“It was fine.” Minerva said with some relief. “It didn’t turn out quite as I had thought it might, but I think that people enjoyed themselves. Mother is looking forward to implementing some of Johannes’s suggestions for her herb garden, and I think he plans on going back to look at it sometime after the warding is over, so that was nice. And Gertrude seemed to enjoy herself. I was a little concerned, since my brother Malcolm rather commandeered her, but she apparently found him amusing.”

“Oh, that is good, I am glad to hear that. After the difficult time she had before she left for Amsterdam, and then the troubles with Thea’s pregnancy, it is good to hear that she was able to relax and have a good time. How is Malcolm, by the way? I haven’t seen him, oh, in a very long time now.”

“I didn’t know you knew him,” Minerva said. “He is fine. He has a flat in Aberdeen not far from Perseus and Helen. In fact, I think I’ve seen him more in the last few months than I had seen him in the last few years. But how do you know my brother? You never mentioned it.”

“We met . . . more than fifteen years ago, now,” Albus said, thinking back. “He was one of the wizards who was trying to deter Grindelwald back in the early forties.”

Minerva wrinkled her brow. “So you knew him while I was still a student here?”

“Yes, I did.” If Albus felt uncomfortable, he didn’t show it.

“Why didn’t you ever mention it? I had no idea you knew him. And my parents were worried about him in those days, even more so than usual,” Minerva said. “They had no idea what he was up to. Until he got into some trouble with the Ministry, they could only guess at what he was doing. We would all have liked to have known something about his movements.”

“Mmm. Well, the first time I met him, I was unaware that he was your brother, as I was not introduced to him by his real name. He, of course knew who I was, but he chose not to tell me who he was. Some of the European Resistence went by that practice regularly. I also got the idea that he didn’t quite trust me at first; he identified me with the Ministry, and he was loathe to pass even two words with anyone whom he believed to be connected with them. It was only after we had met on . . . three occasions, yes, three, that he told me his name. Naturally, I drew the connection between you and him, but I got the impression that he did not want me to mention to you, or to anyone in his family, that I was acquainted with him. If I had told you I had met him, you would have wanted to know what he was doing, what I was doing that we might meet, and meet more than once, at that. I would have trusted you with that knowledge, Minerva, despite the fact that our operations were strictly secret, but your brother . . . he didn’t want you and your parents to worry about him any more than they already did. It was not my information to divulge.”

Minerva was still slightly perturbed that in all the years she had known Albus, he had never mentioned that he knew her oldest brother. Of course, she could also hold it against Malcolm that he had never mentioned it, either, but it likely would not have occurred to him to do so, any more than it would have if he had met any of her other teachers – although she knew that Albus’s name had come up in conversation when Malcolm had been present, and he had never given the slightest indication that he even knew the older wizard by sight. But her brother was peculiar and always had been.

“I see,” Minerva said. “I think I do, anyway.” She shrugged.

“I didn’t know him well, Minerva,” Albus elaborated, apparently sensing her discomfort. “As I said, he was wary of the Ministry. But we were able to be of some help to one another from time to time, and I think he came to . . . trust me. But we were not friends, we spent little time together on occasions very separated, and when we did meet, we focussed on our work and our objectives.”

That didn’t sound like the brother she knew, either so quiet you didn’t know he was in the room or rattling away telling one of his outrageous stories. “Are you sure you’re talking about Malcolm? He didn’t try to talk your ear off, telling fantastic tales?”

Albus smiled. “No, my dear. We generally had very pressing business. Although he did once tell us all a most amusing story while we were waiting for a signal to proceed. Just the one time, though. It was a welcome diversion from the tension of waiting.”

Minerva smiled. “Well, it’s good that his stories were useful for something. I understand why you didn’t mention it at the time, and it’s not as though I’ve ever talked about him with you since, when it might have naturally come up in conversation as it just did. As for Malcolm, to the extent that he ever mentions Hogwarts, it’s only in a slightly less derisive tone than he uses when he refers to the Ministry.”

Albus raised his eyebrows. “That could not be comfortable for you, first working at the Ministry and now here.”

Minerva shrugged. “He doesn’t usually say anything explicit about the Ministry that I can’t agree with on some level. As for Hogwarts . . . he stayed in school through his NEWTs, and he didn’t seem to be utterly miserable while he was here, so I think that his remarks about Hogwarts are not particularly heart-felt. I think it’s more out of principle and his dislike for structure and authority than it is out of genuine dislike for the school.” She chuckled. “He did tell me he had expected my guests all to be ‘staid’ Hogwarts teachers and he was surprised that he wasn’t bored. He spent a good deal of time with Gertrude despite his misgivings about my guests and his fear of staid teachers.”

Albus smiled and seemed to suppress a laugh. “And I seem to remember a conversation with you, not very long ago, in which you expressed certain reservations about Gertrude, yourself.”

Minerva really didn’t want to discuss her reservations about Gertrude with Albus, not now that she had recognised her jealousy for what it was and had tried to confront it. “As you said, I didn’t know her well. She doesn’t let people get very close to her, it seems.” Minerva paused, then added, “You seem to be one of the exceptions to that, and Quin, as well.”

“I have been fortunate, yes. It is interesting to hear that she found your brother entertaining,” Albus said, making his statement almost sound like a question.

“Yes, he was at his most amusing Sunday. I assume that Gertrude recognises Malcolm’s nature, though, and that she viewed him just as a source of diversion and not as a new . . . friend of some sort.”

“Unlikely, Minerva. As you say yourself, Gertrude does not permit herself to become very close to others. It is highly unlikely that she would, on such a short acquaintance, decide to count Malcolm among her friends. Still, it is very good to hear that she enjoyed his company,” he replied with a smile. “She should allow herself a few distractions more frequently.”

“You should take your own advice, Albus. I hate to say this, but you look quite tired.”

“Yesterday was a long day,” Albus admitted. “When I finally got back . . . I had no appetite, though Wilspy did her best to scold me and cajole me into eating. And I did eat, but . . . I did some work before retiring. That was my distraction,” he said with a smile.

Minerva looked at him with worry. “You should have left the work, just gone to bed. You obviously needed your rest after such a long day.”

Albus looked at her quietly for a moment, then asked, “Did you see The Prophet this morning? No? On page two, you will find a most unpleasant and distressing news story. It is, unfortunately, accurate in all the details, although they did omit some of the most unpleasant facts. As much as I dislike sending anyone to Azkaban, in this instance, there was little alternative. I do wish that there had been . . . but there was not. I do not particularly wish to recount the details, but suffice it to say that after hearing the evidence, and seeing it, I did not wish to sleep. Lucid dreaming is all well and good, but there are some things that can disturb one’s sleep even when one isn’t dreaming.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Minerva didn’t know what else to say. “Perhaps next time, you should try reading something relaxing instead of working. Something . . . happy.”

“Perhaps, but I find work to be . . . cleansing, I suppose one could say, and exhausting. And when I finally got to bed, I did sleep well.”

And then he had got up early to pick her flowers for her room. Minerva was overwhelmed with love for this dear wizard.

“Oh, Albus, you should have slept in this morning. I . . . I love the flowers, but you didn’t have to,” Minerva said.

“It was a pleasure to get up and go out early, pick the flowers, arrange them, thinking of you. I quite enjoyed it, and I hope you liked them.” Albus answered with a smile.

“I do, very much. Very much,” she reassured him.

Minerva wished the desk weren’t there between them, or she would hug him. Perhaps it was just as well.

“You know, Albus, when I’m here, if you can’t sleep, you can tell me, come to me, and you could talk, if you wanted . . .” That seemed unlikely, given how reticent he was to share things that bothered him. It was a good deal of progress that he had even admitted to her why he hadn’t slept. “Or we could . . . play chess, or something. Or just talk generally . . .” she ended, suddenly uncomfortable.

“I will keep that in mind, my dear. Kind of you to offer, but you must look after yourself, too,” Albus said softly.

“My responsibilities are far from what yours are, Albus.” Minerva looked at Albus and was suddenly sharply aware of the differences between them, and of his status. “I should let you get back to work, Albus. But . . . I know you can take care of yourself, but you really should be rested for the warding on Friday. Just don’t forget that.”

“Do not worry about me, my dear. I have been doing this for a long time now.”

“Of course.” Minerva stood. “I’ll see you at noon for lunch, then?”

“I will look forward to it.”

Albus stood and walked with Minerva across the office. This gesture reassured Minerva. She had again become confused about how Albus felt about her. Just when she was beginning to think that his gestures might be potentially romantic and she began to hope that his feelings might grow, that he could come to love her as she loved him, she would suddenly feel a vast distance between them. He could seem to withdraw without even doing anything . . .

“I am glad you are back, Minerva.”

Minerva looked up at him. “I am, too. I looked forward to seeing you today. I was sorry you couldn’t come to lunch on Monday, but I understood. I’m very glad we will be able to spend some time together the next few days. You’ll be busy with the warding, of course, but – you will still join me for dinner tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Of course. I have completely cleared my schedule for tomorrow evening. I am looking forward to it more than you can know,” Albus replied with a twinkle.

Minerva smiled, reassured and thinking how surprised he would be to discover that it was a birthday celebration. He was looking forward to it, but he had no idea what he was looking forward to. “Good. I thought perhaps six o’clock. I know that’s early, but you need to be up early for the warding, and I want us to have time to relax and enjoy the evening.”

“That sounds lovely.” Albus smiled down at her.

“Do you have anything in particular that you would like to have for dinner?”

Albus shook his head slightly. “Beans on toast would be a feast, my dear, if I shared them with you.”

Minerva couldn’t suppress her flush of pleasure at his words. “Well, I can’t promise beans on toast, but I am very pleased we will be having dinner together.”

She wished he would kiss her, her forehead or her cheek, just a friendly kiss, so she could lean against him, feel him. Unthinking, she closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating and sensing his magic, his beautiful magic.

“Minerva? Are you all right?” Albus asked.

Minerva’s eyes sprang open. Albus was looking down at her with concern on his face. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, Albus, just . . . just thinking, that’s all. It’s just that it is good to be home. I mean here.”

Albus grinned. “I’m glad you feel it is like home, my dear.” He opened the door for her. “I’ll see you at noon.”

“Yes – here in your office?”

“If that’s all right?”

Minerva nodded. She had hoped they might have lunch in his suite, since he usually seemed to relax more there than when they were in his office. But it was a business lunch, after all.

“Good. I will meet you here,” she said cheerfully, happy to be seeing him again so soon.

She began to turn to go through the door when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“I am glad you are home, my dear Minerva,” Albus said softly. He kissed her quickly on her temple then stepped back.

It was no sleepy, lingering kiss on the forehead in the middle of the night, nor a soft, tingling kiss on the cheek as he said good-night to her outside her door, but Minerva’s heart beat faster and her hopes rose again as she stepped onto the spiral staircase and rode it down to the second floor.