Touring Hogwarts
Minerva stretched in bed and rolled over. She had closed the draperies the night before, and she had slept heavily. She could tell that it was daylight out, but she had no sense of the time. Groping for her wand, her hand touched the warm stone of the evil eye. A shiver went through her, then she found her wand and cast a Tempus. She was relieved to see that it was only seven o’clock and that she hadn’t slept too late. There were things that she needed to do that day, and she didn’t want to feel rushed from the moment she got up.
After a quick shower and a cup of tea, Minerva left, dressed in her mossy green robes, her lightweight tartan cape around her. She hadn’t had her walk in a few days, not since before she had returned from her parents, and she was looking forward to taking a turn through the grounds on her first morning as Gryffindor Head of House.
The little celebration down at Hagrid’s had been quite festive. Much to Minerva’s surprise, Hafrena MacAirt and Lillian Evandras had returned to the school for the evening just to attend Hagrid’s party in her honour. Professor Evandras said that she extended Nathaniel’s apologies for not attending, but that he offered his congratulations, as well. Minerva blinked a moment, trying to think who Nathaniel could be when she remembered that it was Professor Herder’s given name. Minerva had a nice time, but she found herself continually turning around and finding herself missing Albus’s presence.
When she walked back up from Hagrid’s hut with Gertrude, she looked reflexively up at the Headmaster’s Tower. The lights in his office were out, but there was a dim glow coming from the level of his suite above the office. Minerva’s heart clenched. It was increasingly difficult to go any length of time without seeing him, hearing his voice, feeling his touch, even in passing. It had been good to see him at her installation, of course, but he hadn’t said a personal word to her, it seemed, and he hadn’t touched her once, not even a casual brush of hands when they passed the book back and forth.
If Gertrude noticed Minerva’s subdued mood, she said nothing, and the two witches returned to the castle with the hush of the dark night around them. When they reached the second floor, Gertrude offered to walk her all the way to her new quarters, but Minerva demurred.
“Good night, then, Minerva.” Gertrude reached out and touched her arm. “We are all very proud of you, you know. Albus, too.”
Minerva nodded. “Thank you.” If Albus was proud of her, why had he never uttered his congratulations? She shouldn’t focus on that, especially as he had brought out his special mead, but she wished he had congratulated her . . . and come down to Hagrid’s with everyone else.
Gertrude looked at her a moment. “He’s very busy, but he is happy you are Head of Gryffindor, you know.”
“Who is?” Minerva asked, pretending that she had no idea what Gertrude was talking about.
Gertrude quirked a slight smile. “I may see you tomorrow, but I may not. I will be leaving the castle for a while again. But if you need me, I am just an owl away.”
Minerva was surprised by her offer, but nodded. “Thank you.”
She was even more surprised a moment later when Gertrude leaned forward and quickly brushed her lips against her cheek.
“Good night, Minerva. Sleep well.”
Minerva had slept well. It had been late when she had gone to bed, and the stress of the last few days had tired her, so she barely remembered laying her head on her pillow.
Minerva went downstairs to the ground floor and left the castle. It was still cool, but the sun was bright, and she was looking forward to getting some fresh air and possibly even exercising in her Animagus form. As she stepped through the doors, she saw a familiar figure in grey several yards away, headed around toward the back of the castle.
“Albus!” she called out.
He turned and smiled to see her. “Good morning, Professor!”
“Good morning! I’m out for my walk,” Minerva said, pleased to see him.
“Yes, I thought I would get a little exercise this morning, myself. I am hoping that today will be uneventful, but in case it is not, I thought I would take advantage of the early hour.”
“I was sorry to hear that you had to go into London yesterday, on top of everything else you had to do.”
Albus shrugged. “It didn’t take very long, and I was able to return to the castle in time for dinner, so I didn’t mind.” He smiled brightly at her. “I hope you have a good walk, my dear. Perhaps I will see you later in the day.”
Minerva was so surprised, she didn’t say anything, but only nodded, even her gesture likely lost on the Headmaster as he turned and headed quickly in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. It wasn’t as though he was required to take his walk with her, she thought, but he had seemed so . . . peculiar. She hoped he didn’t view her as just one more obligation, but it certainly felt that way at the moment. Now that she was Head of House, had their relationship changed? Or was it her birthday celebration the day before? He had thanked her very nicely, and Gertrude had said that he had enjoyed himself.
Minerva sighed. She hadn’t even had a chance to ask him about the Hufflepuff common room. Perhaps she could at lunch, but she would have to send Quin his owl soon so that he could make plans for the day. Well, if it wasn’t available, it wasn’t available. It wasn’t as though everyone received a tour of the House common rooms, anyway.
A half hour later, Minerva dragged herself back up the many stairs to her quarters. She had tried to put Albus out of her mind, but she didn’t seem able to do that, and the walk she had looked forward to had become a chore. When she reached her rooms, she automatically called Blampa and asked for breakfast. When the house-elf asked what she would like, Minerva just shrugged and told her to bring the usual. Minerva picked at the fruit, ate part of the boiled egg, and nibbled a piece of wholemeal toast. If she hadn’t promised Quin that she would owl him and give him a tour that day, she would have just packed it in and gone back to bed.
After considering calling Blampa to owl her note for her, Minerva pushed away from the table and left her quarters, thankful that at least the owlery wasn’t as far now as it had been. She sent the letter off with a big Tawny Owl and returned to her quarters. Determined to do something with her morning other than mope, she went into her study and set to work. An hour and a half later, the Tawny Owl she had sent with Quin’s letter was back with his reply. He would arrive at approximately two o’clock, he told her, and was looking forward to the tour.
Minerva went down to lunch early, hoping to catch Albus and ask him about the Hufflepuff common room and let him know that they would be having a visitor in the castle. Luck was with her this time, and shortly after she arrived in the staff room, Albus himself walked in, dressed in sky blue robes with silver trim. Minerva smiled. He looked better than he had that morning. His grey robes were really rather ugly, though she would never tell him that, and the cut of them had gone out of style at least fifty years before, with the large, floppy rounded collar and the self-ruffle at the bottom and on the sleeves.
“Professor Dumbledore, a word, if I may,” Minerva said.
“Of course, my dear! How may I help you? Did you have a nice morning?” Albus smiled congenially at her.
“It was fine,” Minerva said, somewhat curtly. “I wanted to ask you about this earlier, but I didn’t seem to be able to catch you. Quin is coming for his tour of Hogwarts this afternoon. I don’t know whether I may show him the Hufflepuff common room or not.”
“Ah, yes! Quin. Very good, my dear. This is a fine opportunity. And the temporary password to Hufflepuff is ‘key lime pie.’ Have you ever had that, my dear? No? Marvellous stuff.”
Albus sat down at the table, and Minerva sat beside him. She didn’t particularly want to discuss the virtues of key lime pie at the moment.
“When is he arriving?” Albus asked.
“Two o’clock, he believes. I had the impression he was busy this morning, though he didn’t say,” Minerva answered.
“And, um, would he be staying for dinner?” Albus asked tentatively.
“I hadn’t planned on it, and I doubt he had, either. I thought I would just offer him a cuppa in my rooms afterwards.” Minerva was just about to ask Albus if he wanted to join them for tea when he interrupted her.
“Ah, well, then, would you care to dine with me this evening? Of course, if Quin is staying –”
“No, he isn’t. I would love to have dinner with you,” Minerva said quickly. She would tolerate his mercurial behaviour if he did occasionally return to the warm Albus whom she needed so much. An ephemeral thought flitted through her mind that she should have more pride, but it was gone as quickly as it had arisen, and she did not reflect on it or attempt to hold on to it.
“Good, good,” Albus said with a nod. “I will let Hagrid, Wilhelmina, and Johannes know, since they will be the only staff still here this evening. They may wish to make some other plans of their own.”
“Did you know that Professor MacAirt and Professor Evandras were here last night? I understand they left again this morning, but I thought it was very kind of them. They came especially to help celebrate . . .”
“Did they? Very nice,” he said, sounding pleased. “I am glad. I am sure that you will continue to find you have many congenial colleagues, whatever their various quirks may be.”
Minerva was about to ask him why he hadn’t joined them at Hagrid’s when Slughorn entered the room. If it had been someone else, she might still have asked, but Slughorn – he hadn’t come, either, although Gertrude told Minerva that he had been informed of the occasion. “Not quite spiff enough for him, I believe,” she said, explaining Slughorn’s nonappearance. “And the drink not up to his standard, either, I imagine.” Minerva just didn’t want the man to know any more about her personal life than absolutely necessary, particularly if he couldn’t be bothered to attend a party because it was thrown in Hagrid’s cabin.
Lunch appeared on the table, and the three began to serve themselves. Johannes came in and sat down on the other side of Minerva. He had been his usual warm and friendly self the evening before, but Minerva had caught him occasionally staring off into space, apparently lost in thought.
“How are you today, Johannes?”
“I am well, thank you, Minerva. And you?”
“Quite well. I understand you were in Germany last week.”
“Yes, I was . . . I looked at the land my friend found for me,” Johannes replied.
“How was it?”
“Good . . . very good . . . but it is strange to be there, and so much has changed. Much for the better, of course. But I have no family there, and no . . . no roots. I feel they were torn out when my family was killed. And I do not know . . .” Johannes shook his head then smiled. “I will grow new roots, I suppose.”
Minerva nodded. “You have planned this for a while, after all.”
“Yes. But . . . I was thinking. Perhaps here, in this country, there would be a place for me to have a small greenhouse.” Johannes sighed. “I do not know.”
“I think you just need to think about where you will feel most comfortable in the long-term, where you can make your life. It likely won’t be easy to make a transition regardless of where you are; the problems will just be different,” Minerva said, giving him the best advice she could, not knowing precisely what was bothering him.
Hagrid and Wilhelmina wandered in just as the others were finishing their lunches, fortunately not too late to eat, however. As Minerva was leaving, Albus caught her arm, then let it go.
“I’m sorry, Minerva. I just wanted to tell you that you may come up as soon as your guest has left – if you wish.”
Minerva smiled. “I would be glad to. Perhaps, though, you might want to join us for tea.”
“I think not – although if Quin would like to speak with me, I would be happy to make time for him.”
“I will be sure that he is aware of that. Thank you. I plan on showing him the greenhouses, the Quidditch pitch, the Great Hall, the library, a few of the different classrooms, and a peek at the common rooms,” Minerva said.
“That sounds fine, my dear. Very good. May I suggest you include that Astronomy Tower and the Potions classroom in your tour?”
“Precisely my thought.”
“Minerva,” Slughorn said, “if you would like to bring him down to the Potions classroom, I would be pleased to open it for you and answer any questions your friend has.”
“Thank you . . . I don’t know when we will be there, however, and I know you were going to leave this afternoon.”
“Not until late in the afternoon. I will just be in my office. Come by any time!” Slughorn said with a bright smile.
Minerva nodded. “I appreciate that. I will see you later, then.” She turned to leave the staff room, then remembered the Floo-Network and turned back. “Oh, Professor Dumbledore, I was wondering about my Floo –”
“Ah, yes! I am sorry, my dear! Very neglectful of me not to mention it. The Floo in your sitting room is connected to the Transfiguration classroom office, the Hospital Wing, the Gryffindor common room, and the Headmaster’s office. If you would like an additional connection, just say the word!”
“That sounds sufficient for now, thank you.” Sometime when he wasn’t as busy, she would ask him about creating a connection to the small chamber off the Great Hall.
Minerva walked up one flight to her classroom and Flooed to her sitting room. She smiled as she stepped out. This was much more convenient. Now, to busy herself until Quin arrived.
A few minutes before two, Minerva Flooed to her office, then left the castle from there. She smiled as she saw Hagrid walking up the path, Quin at his side. Even Quin looked small next to the assistant groundskeeper. She waved at them both.
“H’lo, Perfesser McGonagall! I met yer friend here, thought I’d jest walk him up fer yeh.”
“Thank you, Hagrid. How are you, Quin?”
“Fine as the day is long, love,” Quin said. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he bent and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “And you, Head of Gryffindor?”
“Well, thank you – Hagrid threw me a nice party last night.”
Hagrid beamed down at them. “Quite somethin’, i’nt she? Well, I gotta go . . . Perfesser Slughorn is over t’ cabin with Brutus. Said he’d brew him somethin’ but wanted t’ see ’im first.” Hagrid got misty-eyed. “A bit stand-offish, seems at times, but ’e’s always got time fer me Brutus. A good wizard.”
Hagrid lumbered off toward his cabin after expressing his pleasure at meeting Quin and inviting him around to see his Jarvey before he left.
“You were right, Minerva, he’s quite a likeable chap. Half giant, is he?” Quin asked.
“Yes – did I tell you that?” Minerva asked, trying to remember whether she had.
“Don’t believe you did, but ’tisn’t an easy thing to miss.”
“I suppose it’s not,” Minerva said.
She began the tour with the Great Hall. Quin was quite taken with the ceiling and gaped at it in undisguised awe. She then brought him to the Astronomy tower and explained that those classes were held at night. Then they dropped by the Ravenclaw common room and Minerva opened the common room for him to look in.
“Each House has separate dormitories for the witches and wizards,” Minerva explained, “and different ways of monitoring them. The Head of House always has rooms adjacent to the House dormitory. Hufflepuff actually has a connecting door between the common room and the Head’s suite. My rooms are just steps from the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, and technically a part of the Tower.”
When they reached the Gryffindor common room, Minerva invited him to go in and look around, then brought him up one level to show him a typical boys’ dormitory room. After they finished there, they went down to the library.
“Now I do wish I’d gone t’ school,” Quin said as he looked at row upon row of bookcases.
“Visitors sometimes come to use the library. I am sure that you could – just let me know, and I can make arrangements.”
Quin shook his head ruefully. “Haven’t time for that sort o’ thing at the moment, Minerva. But if that changes, I will take you up on your offer.”
Minerva brought him through the rest of the castle, pausing to have a peek into the Hufflepuff common room, then ending in the far dungeons at the Slytherin common room. It really was quite impressive, she thought, looking through the open door to the large room appointed in silver and green, but Minerva couldn’t imagine living so far under the castle. Under the lake, actually. Her claustrophobia wasn’t acute at the moment, but she didn’t think she could live underground like that. She would surely have nightmares.
“Professor Slughorn said he would be pleased to show you the Potions classroom himself. Let’s see if he’s back from Hagrid’s, shall we?”
Slughorn was awaiting them in his office when they arrived, and he showed Quin the potions ingredients, the special warded cupboard for the more dangerous ingredients, and explained what the students were taught the first year. Quin paged through the Potions textbook and raised an eyebrow, but he shrugged.
“’Spose there’s nothin’ truly harmful in this,” he said.
“Harmful?” Slughorn asked.
“I try to raise me kids with a sense o’ right an’ wrong, Professor,” Quin said. “Some o’ these potions . . . I am sure you explain their use an’ misuse, don’t you?”
“Well,” Slughorn said chuckling, “there aren’t many in the first-year curriculum that could be misused.”
“You think not? I’d have thought that a Potions master would have more imagination than that,” Quin said in a light tone. “But ne’er mind. I’ll be sure t’ check up on me boy from time t’ time. Thank you for your trouble, Professor.” He held out his hand and Slughorn shook it.
“Not a bit of trouble, my dear man, not a bit of it! A friend of the Headmaster’s is a friend of mine, I’d like to think! And dear Gertrude, of course.” He winked at Quin. “She’s quite the witch, isn’t she? Knew each other as students of course. Had a bit of a crush on me at the time, I think.”
Minerva cringed. She could scarcely credit Slughorn’s claim. She doubted that, even as a girl, Gertrude would have such poor taste, even if Slughorn had been younger and better looking than the wizard now standing before them.
Minerva led Quin from the dungeons, declining Slughorn’s offer to watch him prepare the nostrum for Brutus, of whom he did seem genuinely fond. Minerva told Quin that he probably was also trying to keep Hagrid happy so he wouldn’t be too depressed to go into the forest and gather potions ingredients for the self-indulgent Potions teacher.
Quin smirked. “I wonder if he even realises that himself – that wizard has so many layers to him and such a well-constructed self-image, I don’t think he would even recognise when he lies to himself. Probably thinks he’s doin’ it out o’ the milk o’ human kindness.”
Minerva raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of him then? From Gertrude?”
“Heard of him before today, but not known much of him. Shakin’ a man’s hand can be informative.”
“Really?” Minerva was now curious. “What else did you . . . divine from that?”
Quin shook his head. “Nothin’ much. Just that. I’d be very careful if I ever did a business deal with him, though, and watch to see he didn’t put his thumb on the scale. He does have professional pride. I did get that. And I think he is a . . . a careful Potions master. He likely is only truly his ain self when he brews. Likely quite a respite for the man.” Quin chuckled.
“I can see that.” Minerva nodded. “But now, we are going back out again. I thought I’d show you the Quidditch pitch and greenhouses now, then we can go up to my rooms and have tea.”
Johannes was at work in the greenhouses, and greeted them cheerfully then gave them a tour of the main greenhouse in which the students worked. He invited them to walk through the others, as well, and at the end of their tour, Quin seemed subdued.
“Everything all right, Quin?” Minerva asked?
“Fine, love,” he answered with a warm smile. “Just thinkin’ of me Aileen and that she spent so much time in those greenhouses, happy time for her. Now the Quidditch pitch?”
After the two had taken a quick look at the Quidditch stadium, and Minerva had pointed out where the Forbidden Forest began, the two went back up to her rooms.
“Minerva, if I’d known Hogwarts professors lived so well, I might have applied for one o’ those job openings,” he joked.
Minerva laughed. “Well, these are a bit bigger because I’m Head of House, though because of the nature of the castle, if someone needs a little more room, they can ask for it and, within limits, the rooms can be reconfigured for them. And these rooms were extensively redecorated before I moved in. They hadn’t been touched in about fifty years and needed some work.”
Quin was impressed with the views she had from her windows, laughed at her postage stamp kitchen, as he called it – Minerva thought he must be referring to its size – and, like her other visitors, thought her bathroom was luxurious. He paused and looked at her tiles.
“That’s you, isn’t it?” He bent over and looked at the tiles more closely. “You and Albus?” He turned to look at her. “Is this somethin’ true?”
“Yes, but it’s a rather long story, most of which I still can’t tell anyone. But there were actual events that inspired those tiles,” Minerva said as she led him back into the sitting room for their tea.
“So it’s not only your brother who dashed about the countryside then?” Quin asked.
“It was a one-time event. I worked in an office in the Ministry during the war. That occasion was an emergency,” Minerva explained, somewhat uncomfortably.
“I see, speakin’ of your brother, though . . . Malcolm that is,” Quin said, sitting on the sofa, “he is very . . . unusual.”
“I told you that.”
Minerva called Blampa for their tea.
“You did, but, um, how to put this . . . he paid me a visit on Monday,” Quin finally said bluntly.
“He did? How did he know where you lived?” Minerva asked, puzzled. “And why?”
“I’d thought you could answer the ‘why’ for me, Minerva. And he didn’t visit me at home. I think he may be more at home in the Muggle world than he claims. He tracked me down in the city, and he, um, ‘accosted’ might be too strong a word, but he waylaid me on me way out of a meeting I had at me solicitor’s. He convinced me to join him for lunch. It was . . . peculiar.”
“Well, that is surprising. And unsettling for you, I imagine.” Minerva was both puzzled and embarrassed by her oldest brother’s unconventional behaviour.
“That it was. If I didn’t believe him when he claims to dislike the Ministry, I’d have thought he was after spyin’ on me for them, to be sure. His dislike of them is genuine, isn’t it?”
“From everything I have ever been able to tell – I very much doubt that he’s some kind of covert agent, if that’s your fear. He’s out of the country so much . . .”
Quin shrugged. “Could be doing Ministry work on his travels, too, but . . . he asked me quite a bit about me experiences in the Muggle world. As though they could be encapsulated into nice neat little lessons.”
“Mmm. He tried once to live as a Muggle, but I don’t think he really managed it. I think when he was at home, the Muggle apparatuses were inconvenient and he used magic. He worked for a few months in a Muggle bookstore, but he was fired – he says it was because he read the books too much and they thought he neglected the customers, but Murdoch said it’s more because he wasn’t good at making change and the difference kept being taken out of his pay packet.”
“He mentioned somethin’ about that,” Quin said.
Their tea arrived, and as Minerva poured and offered him a ginger newt, she hoped that they could move past the topic of her brother. She had wanted to talk to him about Albus and his behaviour over the last few days, but after Quin had taken an appreciative bite of a biscuit, he brought the conversation back around to her brother.
“Malcolm, then . . . I was confused by his intentions. Do I have anything t’ be worried about?” he asked.
“I think his dislike of the Ministry is genuine –” Minerva began.
“That’s not what I meant, love. I meant,” Quin clarified with a blush, “d’you think he’s, um, interested in me? You know – is he, um, a confirmed bachelor an’ not just persistently unmarried?”
Minerva’s jaw dropped. Once she got over her surprise, she said, “You think he was . . . making a pass at you?” Despite her Occlumency practice, her face was aflame.
Quin shrugged. “None o’ me business how he lives his life, is how I see it, but . . . I don’t want him t’ think I’m interested in makin’ that sorta friend, if you get me meaning.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I know he found you interesting, but . . . no,” Minerva said with a shake of her head. “I don’t even think he’s interested in, well, anyone that way, male or female. Well, he’s likely had some experience, but I’ve never known him to have a special friend of either gender. Not that it hasn’t crossed my mind before – wondering about him. But I don’t think so. I could speak to him for you, if you like, tell him you’d prefer not to have him visit you.”
Quin shook his head. “No need to do that, love. He just seemed to take a lot of effort to find me, and then was more interested in me and me doin’s than I’m used to. And very interested in me relationship with Gertrude. Seemed t’ think there was somethin’ between us, based on me statement about Gertie abidin’ with me night an’ day after Aileen died. I thought he was fishin’ t’ see if we were havin’ an affair an’ if I was, um, free. ’Twas odd.”
“You got that from the situation, or did you sense something from him – like you did Slughorn?” Minerva asked.
“Can’t read Malcolm well. ’Twas confusin’ and he has a lot bubblin’ in him. Couldn’t tell anythin’ even after havin’ lunch wi’ the man an’ shakin’ his hand after.”
“Well, even if he were interested in you that way, and I really doubt that very much, I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Quin,” Minerva said. “As ill-mannered and occasionally inconsiderate as he can be, I don’t believe him to be selfish or unkind, and I don’t think he would, um, try to pursue you if you clearly didn’t want that. So unless you have been, um, flirtatious and charming, you shouldn’t worry.”
“I am an indiscriminate flirt, Minerva, you should know that by now,” Quin said with a grin. “Not usually with folk I dislike, o’ course, and certainly I believe I am merely charming and not flirtatious with wizards, but could be he got the wrong idea somewhere. And I didn’t want t’ be unfriendly to him even on Monday, since he is your brother. But you reassure me. It wasn’t clear what he wanted from me, so that was just one possibility that occurred to me – there was one other, but, if what you say is true about him, it’s probably just as unlikely.”
“What was that?” Minerva asked.
“If he wasn’t with the Ministry and he wasn’t interested in me, I thought he might be interested in Gertrude.”
“In Gertrude?” Minerva’s eyes widened. “I highly doubt that. Even if he were interested in some witch, I doubt very much she would be his type. She’s serious, a scholar, rather a homebody, I think, and not at all adventurous or out-going. And she is certainly not, well, it’s not that she is unattractive, but she’s not flashy.”
“The Muggles call it ‘SA’ – ‘sex appeal,’” Quin said cheekily. “But Gertrude actually does have some – it’s just subtle. A wizard wonders what’s beneath that stern exterior and the dry humour and wonders if there’s simmering passion just waitin’ to be unleashed.”
“You’re mixing your metaphors, Quin,” Minerva said, becoming uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “And whatever my brother’s preferences may be in witches – or otherwise – I think he’d be looking for something requiring less work and with no chance that the other person could develop an attachment. With his peripatetic ways, I suppose it’s even possible he takes lovers frequently, but changes them as frequently as he changes his location – which may be more frequently than he changes his socks.”
“Could be he’s lookin’ for somethin’ different, then, and he is a wizard who seems to like a challenge. Gertrude would certainly be that.” Quin shrugged. “But enough about the hypothetical love lives of others. How are you and how is your love life?”
Minerva didn’t take offense at the blunt question, merely rolling her eyes and answering, “Even more hypothetical, I’m afraid, Quin. I did try, too. Fortunately, not so obviously as to completely embarrass myself.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, love,” Quin said softly. “Somethin’ specific happen?”
Minerva sighed and broke a ginger newt in half. “I had him here for dinner for his birthday. He was enjoying himself. We had wine. A nice meal. He didn’t know it was a birthday dinner until I brought out his cake. I think he was genuinely touched. Then I gave him your present – he was quite pleased with it, by the way.”
“He wrote me a nice thank-you note yesterday,” Quin said.
Minerva nodded. “He really did like it. And then I gave him my present. At first, I wasn’t sure that he liked them, or what he thought, but he said the robes were beautiful, and he even tried them on. Oh, he looked so wonderful in them, Quin. It was as though he was clad in the night sky, thousands of stars visible. And he let me touch them while he was wearing them . . . but it meant nothing.” Minerva struggled against the lump in her throat. “We had even danced earlier – just very briefly, before we had our cake, but still . . . it felt romantic to me. But it was all on my side. I had made it a romantic setting and my feelings were romantic, but it was just me. When he thanked me with a kiss on the cheek, I hugged him and I . . . I told him, Quin. I told him I loved him.” Tears sprang into her eyes. “And he . . . he was surprised. He froze, then he . . . he patted my back . . . he patted my back and he said” – Minerva choked back her tears – “he said that he is very fond of me, too.”
“Oh, love, I’m sorry. Come here, come here, sweetheart,” Quin said, patting the sofa.
Minerva moved over and sat beside him and let him enfold her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head and caressed her cheek, wiping away her tears.
“It may not be so bleak, Minerva.”
“Yes, at least I wasn’t fool enough to say that I was in love with him,” Minerva mumbled into his shoulder.
“You know, you surprised him with the birthday dinner and the presents, then you told him you loved him. He could have just been very surprised and thought that his own imagination was workin’ overtime –”
“Don’t make excuses for him, Quin. He is fond of me. Just as I always knew. Fond of me, Quin. It’s what you say to someone for whom you have platonic love, if you love them at all. It doesn’t even mean he loves me in any way.”
“I think he must – he does spend a lot of time with you, he spent his birthday with you and not with someone else –”
“That’s just because he normally doesn’t celebrate it. At least not very much. He just didn’t have anything better to do, that’s all,” Minerva said, pushing away from Quin. She stood. “Did you want more tea?”
When he indicated that he did not, Minerva banished the tea things, venting her excess energy.
“I’m going to wash my face, then I’ll take you down to Hagrid’s –”
“That would be nice, Minerva, but I would like to talk with the Headmaster first, see his office, ask him a few questions. I’m sending me boy here in less than a month, after all.”
Minerva pursed her lips. “You are not going to discuss my feelings for him, Quin, if that’s what’s in your head.”
“I wouldn’t embarrass you like that, surely you know that!”
“Of course.” Minerva sagged. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . sensitive.”
Minerva excused herself and washed her face. When she returned to the sitting room, she was surprised to find Albus there.
He smiled brightly at her. “I am sorry I am too late for tea, my dear, but I did want to stop by and say hello to your guest.”
“We were just coming to see you, Professor,” Minerva answered.
“Yes, as Quin was just saying. I thought I’d bring him through the Floo to my office, then send him back to you the same way – unless you’d like to come?”
“No need for that,” Quin said quickly. “I have taken too much of this good lady’s time this day, anyway.”
“Not at all, Quin,” Minerva said, “but you can meet me back here, if you like.”
When the two wizards had left, Minerva sat down on the sofa and stared into the empty fireplace. Quin was still trying to encourage her. But what was the point? None. None at all. Albus had practically ignored her that morning when he saw her – not that he’d intended to, of course, Minerva was sure of that. But if he were as taken with her as Quin seemed to think, wouldn’t he have wanted to walk with her a while, instead of just turning around and rushing off? Of course, if he had wanted to walk in the Forbidden Forest, it could be he preferred not to have her with him. . . . At least they were having dinner together tonight.
Minerva lay down to wait for Quin and closed her eyes.