Resolving a Misunderstanding

Minerva woke to a sensation of utter peace and contentment before she was even conscious of what she was feeling. She took a moment to stretch and luxuriate in her growing awareness of Albus beside her. As she woke, she smiled at the thought that it did not even seem surprising to wake up in his arms, but natural and right. She hoped it was an event that would be repeated thousands of mornings.

She turned slightly, opening her eyes to look at him. He slept still, and Minerva smiled happily. How wonderful to be here with him, to wake and see him, to see his face as he slept beside her. She gently brushed some stray hair back from his face. She wondered whether Albus normally did something to his hair before he slept. He had mentioned a Muggle hairnet once. She hoped that was not his choice for controlling his hair at night. She often braided hers before going to bed, though she knew a charm or two, as well. Smiling in amusement as she imagined braiding his hair like that of some ancient Viking, Minerva moved up a bit and kissed his forehead.

Albus let out a sigh, then stirred. Minerva kissed his cheek, then lay back beside him again. Bright blue eyes looked at her, and a smile instantly lit his face.

“Good morning, Minerva.” He raised a hand and caressed her cheek. “Better than any dream is waking here to see you. And you are real.”

“I know. That is how I felt when I woke and sensed you there, and then felt your arm around me. But it was not at all surprising, strangely enough. It was as though I knew the whole time I slept that you were there with me, and when I woke, it was natural that you were here still, holding me.” Minerva sighed happily.

Albus leaned toward her. “And not the doppelganger, either,” he whispered. “But I think I need a good-morning kiss to ensure he stays away.”

Minerva kissed him lightly on the lips, then as he returned her kiss, she felt a tingle of magic and a fresh, minty feeling swept through her mouth. She couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the kiss.

“What was that?” she asked.

“That was a good-morning kiss, my dear,” Albus said with a twinkle. “Don’t tell me that you have never received a proper good-morning kiss before?”

Minerva laughed again, then kissed him, much less shyly than she had the first time. As their kiss continued, becoming first languidly sensual and then hotly passionate, Minerva lay across him, rolling him fully onto his back. As she moved over him, placing one leg beside him, bent at the knee, and the other stretched long between his, Minerva could feel clear evidence of his arousal, and she shifted her weight to press against him.

Albus broke the kiss and held her tightly, his eyes closed. “This is a wonderful way to wake up in the morning,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then kissed her temple. “And now there is tea waiting for us, I believe.”

“Tea?” Minerva asked. She pushed herself up and looked down at Albus. “You prefer tea to this?” She kissed him sensually.

“Mmmm, no, not at all . . .” Albus looked up into her eyes. “But we both need our morning tea, my dear. And as I said last night, I treasure you and I wish to court you properly. And . . . I do not know how to put this well. I love you, Minerva, I love you so much that words fail me, and I want to show you my love in every way that I can, but we need . . . I need to be certain at every step that . . .” He looked away a moment, then returned his gaze to meet Minerva’s and whispered, “I don’t know . . . if you ever were to shy away from my touch . . . I would rather know it before that could happen.”

“I am trying to understand, Albus. And I do appreciate and respect your desire to . . . court me. And if you wish to, um, avoid certain temptations because of that desire, I will abide by your wishes – as long as it’s that. But it also sounds as though you are afraid that I will reject you. I assure you, unless doppelganger Albus returns, that will not happen. I will try to understand, though, and be patient.” Minerva kissed him gently, then settled against him and closed her eyes with a sigh. “I feel as though I could lie in your arms forever.”

“And I could hold you forever. In spirit, at least, but we do have tea waiting for us. Wilspy must have brought it while we slept. And, although I hate to disturb the moment, the loo is calling, as well!”

“As long as you return and forever continues, I suppose I can let you up for a short while,” Minerva said teasingly.

“I promise. Besides, I do want my tea!” he added with a chuckle.

When he returned from his trip, Minerva was sitting on the restored sofa drinking her tea, the blanket folded beside her.

“Whatever happened to ‘forever continuing’?” Albus asked with a smile. “I leave the room and return to find you have Transfigured the sofa back.”

Minerva smiled up at him. “Don’t think this excuses you from holding me longer, Albus, although I suppose you may keep one hand free to hold your teacup! But, practically speaking, it is easier to drink our tea sitting up, and, I must confess, I am also rather hungry. And I will need to use your facilities soon, too.”

Albus sat beside her, one hand free to hold his teacup, as promised.

“I wonder what Wilspy thought when she saw the two of us here,” Minerva said.

Albus shrugged. “She told me repeatedly that I should write you. Just yesterday after we had our dinner, Wilspy told me I should write and tell you that I was sad without you, and you would be here ‘quick quick.’ She must have known something. She was surely unsurprised by your presence when she saw you here.”

“Is that why you wrote me?” Minerva asked.

Albus shook his head and set down his teacup so that he could put both arms around her. “No,” he said softly, “though I wish it were. I had another visitor yesterday evening. Your friend Quin – perhaps I should amend that to ‘our friend Quin.’”

Minerva tried to keep herself from betraying any emotion. Indeed, she was unsure what she felt at that news. “And what did he say?” she asked carefully.

“Among other things, he told me that I was a fool and I should tell you the truth. He also told me something that disturbed me greatly, and I was as relieved as I could be when I saw you walk into the sitting room last night, whole and uninjured,” Albus said quietly. “He said that you had gone to him when you left here, and that you had arrived injured.” He blinked back tears. “I cannot express how very sorry I am, Minerva . . . I wish that I had been less blind, that even if I were so blind, that I had nonetheless done things differently.” He couldn’t hold his tears back any longer, and they spilled freely to his cheeks.

Minerva wiped his tears. “I’m all right now, Albus. And we are together, and you wrote me the most beautiful letter and poem –”

“But I caused you harm, Minerva, just the opposite of what I wished to do.” He looked at her. “Are you really quite well?”

Minerva nodded. “Yes, I am fine. Quin took very good care of me. He was extremely kind. And what we hadn’t dealt with, my mother took care of when she saw me yesterday evening. So I am perfectly well.”

“How did you hurt yourself? Quin said that when he first saw you, he thought you had been beaten.” Tears flowed from his eyes again. “I am sorry, my dear,” he said, clearing his throat and wiping at his face. “It’s just the thought of that, and then to know I was responsible for it . . . and I am still not as well-rested as I might be.”

“It’s all right, Albus,” Minerva said, kissing his salty tears. “But I am fine now, just remember that.”

“How, though? How did you come to be so injured?”

“I was very foolish, Albus. I was very upset after I received your apology that afternoon. I didn’t think I could bear to be still one moment longer, and I ran out in my Animagus form. I just ran and ran, paying no attention to where I was or where I was headed. I ran deep into the Forbidden Forest. In addition to the underbrush slapping and scraping against me, I got a thorn lodged in my left front paw, then I tumbled down into a ditch, narrowly avoiding landing in a stream, but picked myself up and just kept running. I wasn’t badly injured, though I must have been quite a sight when I arrived on Quin’s doorstep, covered in dirt, blood from my hand on my clothes, and a black eye. I had bruises on every limb and over my entire left side, it seemed, probably from sliding into the brook. But I ran and just kept running, exhausting myself. And then . . .” Minerva hesitated.

“And then?” Albus asked, his voice tight and constricted with emotion.

“I fell asleep. Don’t tell me how completely mad that was; I am very well aware of that. And if I weren’t aware of it on my own, the visit from two centaurs certainly convinced me.”

“Centaurs? Who? Which ones?”

Minerva shook her head. “I don’t know. I am unacquainted with any of the centaurs, so even if I had seen them, I wouldn’t have recognised them, but I only heard their voices as it was. It was a father and son, I believe. They had a bit of a conversation about me – they recognised somehow that I wasn’t really a cat, though that surprised me – and they decided that they would make sure nothing ate me, but that if I didn’t wake soon and leave on my own, they would give me a good scare.” Minerva looked up at Albus. “Just hearing their conversation was frightening.”

Albus sighed and held her more tightly, then suddenly relaxed his embrace. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, I am fine now, Albus; you’re not hurting me. And if you ever do, I’ll probably let out a squawk,” Minerva said with a small laugh.

“You said that your mother took care of something for you – you were still injured yesterday evening?” His brow was knit with worry.

“Yes, I hadn’t realised. I thought I only had a particularly bad bruise, though Quin had suggested it might be more, but I had cracked a rib. The potion that we used on it was for bruises, so although it helped, it didn’t fully heal it. My mother, obviously, found that easily and Healed it just as easily. So I am well now, Albus.”

Tears swimming in his eyes, Albus whispered hoarsely, “Please forgive me, Minerva, for what I caused, all the pain and hurt –”

Minerva stopped him. “I forgave you before I knew you love me as you do, and then after, aside from being somewhat . . . distressed that you hadn’t told me earlier and averted so much difficulty for us both, I still forgave you. And there really wasn’t much to forgive, after all.”

“Not much to forgive? But –”

“I am not going to argue with you about this, Albus. I am fine, you are fine, and we are together now. It was a . . . a misunderstanding. A rather thorough-going misunderstanding, but nonetheless, it is over and it was unintended.” She kissed his cheek then lay her head on his shoulder. “I do think there is another misunderstanding lurking here, but we’ll clear that one up together.”

They sat like that for a while, then Minerva stomach growled, and Albus laughed and said, “I think it’s time for some breakfast.”

Minerva sighed. “Breakfast together will be nice. Do you remember the breakfast we had together in my rooms after you overheard me in Poppy’s office? I enjoyed that so much, but I was very nervous, and, of course, I didn’t dream at that time that we would ever be together as we are now. Well, perhaps I dreamed it, but I thoroughly stomped on every hope that ever sprang up.”

Albus kissed her forehead then nuzzled her hair. “It is surprising that we are here together this morning, actually, given all of our efforts against ourselves.”

“I suppose we have Quin to thank for that – and not just for seeing you yesterday, but because he encouraged me in my hopes.” Minerva blinked back sudden tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what it is . . .” She wiped her eyes. “I just feel indebted to Quin. He has been a better friend than I could have wished for, and completely unexpected.” Minerva looked up at Albus. “He didn’t tell you, though, how I felt?”

Albus shook his head. “Although I doubt I would have believed him, and it was better coming from you, anyway. And it did cause me some anguish, sending you that letter, telling you the truth, and then waiting, uncertain how you would receive it, or if I would even hear from you any time soon. Which was one reason I was uneasy about sending Fawkes. I knew you would receive the letter within seconds, and I worried that you would hesitate and the waiting would be all the worse, knowing that you had it but did not wish to respond.” He sighed and held her more tightly. “And then, there you were, barely fifteen minutes later, asking me if I had written the letter, and I had no idea how you had received it, whether you were angry with me . . .”

“No,” Minerva answered, “although there was a part of me that was distressed that it had taken you so long to say anything, particularly given the apparent depth of your feelings. Here I had been, all this time, hoping that you might possibly be coming to see me in a romantic light, just a little, and your feelings for me already went well beyond that.”

“That they did,” Albus replied with a chuckle, continuing more softly, “and for some time, too. I don’t even know when I began to fall in love with you, it just grew. I loved you so for so very long, and then I began to realise that I was falling in love with you – no, not ‘falling,’ I had fallen in love with you. I tried to ignore it, you know, I tried . . . diversions, but nothing kept my feelings for you from growing. And I think that is one reason I was avoiding you last term. That was the reason. I thought, I don’t know, it wasn’t a conscious decision, but it seemed that I could survive having you here, close by, and not have to deal with the fact that I was in love with you, if only I could maintain my distance.” He sighed. “And that hurt you.”

“It probably wasn’t pleasant for you, either, Albus. But I understand,” Minerva said. “I tried to fight my feelings for you, but it simply didn’t work. And then Quin . . . after we met, he did a divination for me. It was supposed to be just a lark, and I was highly sceptical about it, not having much faith in any kind of divination, anyway. But all he did was touch me, close his eyes and take my hand, then I could feel his magic touching mine, and he knew – he didn’t know who you were, not then, but he tried to encourage me. He said . . . he said I had given my heart to you, and my joy would die if I did not reclaim my heart and give it to you again, freely and openly. I tried to behave as though it was only so much nonsense, of course, but it wasn’t, and I could feel the truth in what he told me, even then. He said that my love for you was the source of both great pain and great joy, and that eventually, the pain would come to outweigh the joy until my joy died utterly if I didn’t love you openly. I could certainly feel that happening. And I wanted to hope, Albus, I was just afraid to, so when he encouraged me, I let my hopes grow a little.”

“I am glad you did, my dear, for I don’t know as I ever would have, at least not this soon,” Albus replied. “But when he came to see me yesterday, Quin clearly knew that it was I whom you love.”

Minerva nodded. “He had already begun to suspect it, especially after seeing us together at Fortescue’s, and he tried to coax it out of me, but I didn’t want to discuss it where we could be overheard. Since he already seemed to have guessed, though, I did want to tell him. It would be such a relief to finally have someone know, and Quin was so kind . . . we had lunch at his house one Saturday, the day that I looked at flats with Melina, in fact, and he, well, he didn’t force me to tell him, but he did make me say it myself; he wouldn’t do it for me. And it was a relief, such a wonderful feeling after so many years of bearing it alone, of trying to pretend that it wasn’t so, to actually tell someone that I love you.” Tears came to her eyes again. “Quin was perfect at that moment, Albus – he actually had me almost convinced that it wasn’t hopeless to love you, and he gave me a perspective on it all that I hadn’t had before. I had some hope that I might be able to say the same words to you one day: I love Albus Dumbledore.”

He smiled and squeezed her. “Then we can both be grateful to him for that. And to Gertrude, who invited you to visit her, or you may never have met him.” Albus sighed then, somewhat unhappily.

“What is it, Albus?” Minerva asked.

“I don’t know what to tell Gertrude . . . I believe that she introduced you two as a bit of match-making. And she was here yesterday, asking about you, where you were, what had happened, and I essentially told her to mind her own business. But I think she suspects my feelings for you.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did, actually,” Minerva said slowly. “But I think you’re wrong about why she introduced Quin to me. She was very concerned that he not . . . lead me astray, I suppose you might say. It angered me at the time, but when we had breakfast that first morning at the estate – not the day I arrived, but the next day, after I had met Quin – she said something about me being vulnerable and she didn’t want Quin to take advantage of me. I don’t think he would have, anyway, and I don’t believe he had been interested in any witches since his wife died, but she was nonetheless concerned – and it was partly my fault. I had thought it might be amusing to, I don’t know,” Minerva continued, embarrassed, “to lead Gertrude on, make her believe that there was something going on that wasn’t. But really, it was more for the benefit of someone else – Valerianna, actually. That witch was truly vile from the moment I met her. At any rate, I don’t think you need to worry that Gertrude will be disappointed to learn that I am unavailable to Quin.”

“And you are certain that is what you want, Minerva? That I am not keeping you from –”

“Albus Dumbledore! Not one more word! Of course that is what I want. Haven’t you been listening to me? I have loved you for years. There is no one to compare to you, no one I could possibly want more than I want you, no one I could love more, and no one who could be better for me. I know this, Albus. I know this.”

“You are too good to me, my dear.”

“No, not yet – just give me some time, though, and I’ll try!” Minerva said with a grin, and she kissed him, her hand straying down his chest, making its way lower, but Albus took her hand and stopped it in its path.

Still kissing her, Albus held her hand and used it to encourage her to lie back against the arm of the couch. He kissed her mouth, her face, her throat, his body warm and heavy resting on her. He looked at her, examining her face as if memorising it.

“I love you, Minerva.” He kissed her again softly, then said, “I think it truly is time for breakfast now. Or brunch. Or nuncheon. Or something of the sort.”

“Nuncheon?” Minerva asked with a laugh. “Let’s have that! It sounds like fun – but everything with you sounds fun.”

“Everything?” Albus asked, smiling, one eyebrow raised in amused scepticism.

“Well, not everything, I suppose, but at the moment, I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t be fun,” Minerva answered with a caress.

“Nuncheon it is, then!” Albus called Wilspy, who popped in looking very cheerful, indeed.

Wilspy agreed happily to provide “nuncheon,” but promised a “tasty tasty meal,” not just a “little bitty bite.”

As they waited, Minerva stretched in Albus’s embrace. “Well, she seemed entirely unsurprised, and she didn’t scold either of us, so I would say that she approves,” Minerva said.

“Of course she approves, my dear,” Albus said, not able to keep himself from kissing her once more, this time just above her ear. “Wilspy wants only the best for me, and you are the best, without a doubt.”

Wilspy reappeared with their breakfast – or “nuncheon” – and Minerva excused herself to use the loo. When she reappeared, her hair was up in a loose twist, charmed in place. Albus held her chair for her, then he couldn’t resist bending over and kissing the nape of her neck several times, softly.

“Keep doing that,” Minerva said, inhaling sharply, “and – oh, my – we won’t, we won’t, um . . . mmmm . . .”

He kissed her shoulders, then he reached around, kissed her cheek, then moved to her ear. He kissed it softly then whispered, “We won’t what?”

“Nothing,” Minerva breathed, her eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t stop.

He nuzzled her briefly before kissing the top of her head. “Sorry, my dear, I just couldn’t resist. I resisted too many times to resist this time.”

“You needn’t resist anything, you know, Albus,” Minerva said, her eyes shining as he took his seat beside her at the table. “As I have been trying to tell you.”

Albus was quiet for a moment, looking at her, smiling, then he poured their tea and said, “I do not want to . . . rush, my dear. I still amaze that you love me as you do. I wish us to take our leisure, take pleasure in this time.”

“So do I, Albus, so do I,” Minerva responded, reaching over and laying her hand on his. “And I am very glad that you did not say anything as you did earlier about my shying from your touch, which I hope you would see is patently absurd, given the way you make me feel when you touch me and kiss me.”

Looking serious, Albus turned his hand beneath hers and curled his fingers around her hand. “I will try to explain my feelings to you on that matter, but not now.” He smiled slightly. “But I am pleased that I needn’t resist kissing the nape of your neck any longer. You have no idea . . .” He raised Minerva’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, closing his eyes and relishing the feel of her skin beneath his lips, brushing her hand against them.

“I love you,” he murmured before kissing her hand again. “I suppose you will become tired of hearing me say that.”

“Only after you have tired of hearing me say that I love you, my darling Albus,” Minerva said, bringing their joined hands to her mouth and kissing his hand. “And I hope that is never.”

“Beyond never, Minerva, beyond never.”

The two ate the omelettes that Wilspy had brought them, and the potato cakes with butter, and the grilled tomatoes, onions, and peppers, all of that followed by small fruit tarts topped with crème fraîche. There was also a small plate of ginger newts, which Minerva set aside for later.

“It seems that Blampa must know I have returned,” Minerva said with a smile.

“You have done very well with her, Minerva,” Albus said. “Hwouly reported to me last week that Blampa is very happy.”

“Hwouly reported about Blampa?” Minerva asked, puzzled.

“Yes, she reports to me on the state of all of the house-elves twice a year, with more general reports monthly, or more frequently if there are any problems either with house-elves or the castle, including whether there are any unhappy house-elves – difficulties she is unable to deal with herself, or which require my awareness, if not my attention – and Blampa, she said, is one of the happiest house-elves,” Albus explained. “You are the first individual whom she has served, you see, as she is very young and has only worked in the general areas before. She was having some trouble this winter and spring, apparently, but over the last couple of months, Hwouly reports that she is doing much better.”

“Oh! I had no idea that she hadn’t served anyone before!” Minerva felt guilty about her occasionally curt manner with the house-elf. “She was unhappy, then?”

“Somewhat. It didn’t particularly concern Hwouly when she first reported it to me in February, as she noted that many young elves have some difficulties when they begin to serve an individual staff member.” Seeing Minerva’s distressed expression, Albus added, “Part of Blampa’s unhappiness stemmed from the jealousy of some of the other house-elves, apparently, which you could have done nothing about. There were some who thought they should have been chosen to serve, as they were older. And it seems that you did not make use of her very often, and the other elves took that as a sign that she served poorly.”

“I wish you had told me, Albus! Or that someone had – I had no idea. She was a little annoying, and I was also unused to having a house-elf at my beck-and-call, since I never had one with me in London, but had I known she was so young and that she hadn’t served an individual before, I would have done things differently.”

“I thought that you and Blampa would work things out. Hwouly had assured me that it wasn’t necessary to speak to you about it, and she didn’t think that any intervention was necessary. That is rarely needed,” Albus explained.

“I still wish I had known that I was the first individual she served. It would have made things easier on both of us, I think,” Minerva said, remembering the time that Blampa hadn’t cleaned her rooms or removed the dirty laundry for three days because Minerva had infelicitously told her not to return until she was called.

“All is well now, my dear. And Hwouly mentioned that Wilspy has taken her under her wing, as well.”

“That’s good. I think she seems happy, and she seems to worship Wilspy,” Minerva responded. “She brought a couple other house-elves along to help set up the Transfiguration classroom, so it looks as though she has some friends. I must say, I don’t understand house-elves very well, particularly any outside of our family.”

“They do have their own traditions and values, of course, and they seem to be born with a desire to serve. If they are happy in their service, they live long and they procreate, provided they have suitable mates. A family that treats its house-elves poorly will soon find themselves with dwindling numbers, regardless of the opportunities to serve,” Albus said. “And although bound to serve and obey, house-elves can interpret their orders and their service in ways that we might not imagine. That is how we learned of the situation with the family in the Lake District, the Troupels, the case that came before the Wizengamot a few weeks ago. The one remaining house-elf alerted his cousins, and they encouraged their family to visit the Troupels, who were their cousins, and they made the grisly discovery. It was quite obvious that there was no keeping murder and torture within the family, and so they notified the Aurors.”

Minerva shuddered, remembering the article she had read in the Daily Prophet, which she hadn’t finished, the details were so disturbing.

“Do they know why young Troupel did what he did?” Minerva asked.

Albus shook his head. “He clearly was sick, sick in his mind and in his spirit. I do not think that his reasons were any that we could understand. I so wish there had been something we could have done with him other than send him to Azkaban, but a young wizard who murders his father and his younger brother, imprisons and tortures the rest of his family, and kidnaps, rapes, and murders random Muggle women . . . there was nothing else we could do with him.” Albus sighed heavily. “We did discuss sending him to St. Mungo’s, but they haven’t the facilities to contain him, and the Healers we spoke to said they could do nothing but keep him sedated. They can treat melancholy, mania, lethargy, those sorts of ills, and certain kinds of spell-damage, but their experience with this kind of madness – they really have very little, even the oldest among them. We even consulted a Squib who practises Muggle psychiatry, and he said that there are few treatments for Muggles with such severe . . . disease, and they are not particularly effective on Muggles. He feared that the treatments would make a wizard worse, even if he could be safely contained at St. Mungo’s. So, it was Azkaban.”

“I wish I hadn’t asked,” Minerva said, feeling sick. “But it is good that the house-elf was able to alert someone on the outside. What happened to him?”

“He is fine, returned to the service of the remaining Troupels, who are suitably grateful to him, I understand,” Albus responded.

Albus stood and gave his hand to Minerva. She rose and leaned against him, his arms around her. Minerva smiled.

“Your hugs are magical, Albus,” she said. “I don’t even remember what we were talking about now.”

“An Obliviating hug?” Albus said with a chuckle.

“No . . . it simply replaces everything else with warmth and joy, so any sadness or distress just fades away,” Minerva answered.

“Perhaps that should be my new profession then, Magical Hugger. I could pop about the country, dispensing embraces as needed!” he teased.

“No, I don’t think so!” Minerva said with a grin. “If anyone needs a hug, they can come to you, but I do hope that you will reserve most of them for me.”

“It would be difficult not to, simply because one of the most wonderful things about embracing you, my dear, is that I receive one from you in return! And your hugs are without substitute,” Albus answered, kissing the side of her head. “I do hope that you don’t grow tired of my embraces and my kisses. Now that I needn’t hide my feelings from you, I find it difficult to restrain myself from bestowing kiss upon kiss.”

“Then don’t expend the effort trying to restrain yourself, Albus.” Minerva looked up at him. “Indeed, you needn’t restrain yourself at all around me anymore.”

Albus smiled down at her. “It would be rather scandalous if I were to fail to restrain myself around you in public, however. I can see the horror on the students’ faces as the Headmaster apparently went completely mad in the midst of the Sorting Ceremony and leapt upon the Head of Gryffindor, kissing her passionately.”

Minerva laughed at the thought, but then said, “How would the Headmaster kiss the Head of Gryffindor, then? I believe I need a demonstration in order to fully appreciate the necessity for restraint in public.”

“Mmm, you do, do you?”

Albus raised a hand to her face and caressed it, then his lips met hers as he cupped her cheek. His kisses were slow, gentle, languid, and very sensual, his lips repeatedly moving against Minerva’s, then pulling her lower lip between his and sucking it gently before his tongue tickled her lips then entered her mouth. With just the tip of his tongue, he teased hers, then his tongue stroked the roof of her mouth before he returned to the slow, sensual kisses. Albus eased them both to their knees as he continued to kiss her, his hands travelling over her back, then he lowered her to the floor, kissing her the entire time and coming to lie partially on top of her. His kisses grew more passionate, and he began to caress her from her hip to her breast. Minerva gasped as he broke the kiss and stopped, resting his hand on her breast and looking down at her with a smile.

Minerva opened her eyes. She moved her hand up to comb it through his hair. “And that is how the Headmaster would kiss the Head of Gryffindor during the Sorting Ceremony if he didn’t restrain himself?” she asked softly, smiling. “I do suppose it might disrupt things a bit. And I doubt I could pay attention to the Sorting, myself.” She sighed dramatically. “I guess you are right about restraining yourself in public!”

Albus chuckled, eyes twinkling, and he kissed her softly. “I am glad you see the wisdom of my position.”

“I rather like this position, actually,” Minerva said, pulling him to her and kissing him. She caressed him and tried to urge him to lie more fully on top of her.

“Mmm, my dear,” Albus said, “I think we need to . . . get up now.”

“It’s Saturday,” she reminded him.

“Yes, and it’s approaching eleven. We need to change clothes and such. Gertrude threatened yesterday that she would send Hagrid after me if I didn’t turn up for lunch.”

Minerva laughed out loud at that. “I can just envision that now. Although I think Hagrid would have trouble reaching you up here, unless you have charmed the stairs to recognise him.”

“No, but knowing Gertie as I do, she would not find it an impediment to carrying out her threat.”

Minerva kissed him. “It’s good to know that someone was concerned about your well-being.”

“Yes, well, she was not very tactful about it. She said I looked like hell, in fact,” Albus said with a short laugh.

“You didn’t look well when I arrived last night.” Minerva caressed his face. “But you look much better now. Like yourself.”

“Good. I feel quite well. Better than I can remember feeling in many, many years.”

“Mmmm, I could make you feel even better, I believe,” Minerva whispered before kissing him. One hand insinuated itself between them, and she reached for him, for the delight that she felt pressing against her thigh, but Albus rolled away from her.

“Oh, Minerva, don’t test my restraint, please,” Albus said with a groan.

“As I’ve said, you needn’t restrain yourself in private, Albus,” Minerva answered, blushing. “I don’t want to restrain myself with you.”

“But I do, my dear,” Albus said. “I do, as I explained last night.” He sounded pained.

“You didn’t explain it fully, though.” Minerva sighed, closing her eyes, then said, “But I suppose it is adequate for me to know that you don’t wish to rush and you wish to court me.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Adequate for now, anyway.”

“Allow me to escort you to your quarters so that you can freshen up and change robes,” Albus suggested. “And then we can meet in the staff room for lunch.”

Minerva reluctantly agreed to have him escort her back to her own rooms as it did seem practical, but she said, “I don’t think I could eat lunch yet, though, Albus. I’m still digesting our nuncheon!”

“All right, then. Why don’t I meet you in your rooms later – if that is all right with you,” Albus said.

“That would be perfect. And I can write a letter to my parents reassuring them of my well-being.” Minerva hesitated. “Albus . . . would you mind terribly, that is . . . I would like to tell Quin, too. But I’d like to see him. If it would be all right with you –”

“Of course, my dearest. If you would like to see him today or tomorrow, that would be fine – it would be a good thing, in fact,” Albus said with a nod.

“Good, I will owl him, too, then.”

“If you could just be sure that you are available this evening?” Albus said.

Minerva smiled. “I will be entirely yours this evening, Albus.”

Grinning, Albus said, “I look forward to that, my dear! Very much.”

Minerva waved her wand to put her hair back up into a loose, Charmed bun at the back of her head. Her earlier charm hadn’t been sufficiently strong to hold it once Albus kissed her as he had.

At the door to her rooms, Albus stopped and looked at her long, caressing her cheek. “Thank you, Minerva.”

“For what?”

“For everything, for you, for your forgiveness, for your love,” he replied softly.

“No thanks necessary,” Minerva answered. “I am grateful myself, though. Grateful for you.”

He kissed her softly then said, “I will see you later, then.”

Minerva nodded. “If I’m not here when you return, or if I don’t answer the door, just let yourself in. I may be in the Owlery or dressing.”

“If the Knight will allow me entry,” Albus said with a smile.

Minerva shook her head in amusement, but she turned to the portrait. “Sir Knight, if ever the Headmaster – that is, Albus Dumbledore – requests entry, please do not deny him, and if he wishes to be announced, please do that, as well,” she said.

“I am your servant, my lady, and now I shall serve the lord and master of this castle for as long as he serves you,” the Knight said with a bow. He raised his visor and looked at Albus with surprisingly sharp eyes. “You serve the lady? She is yours?” he asked seriously.

Albus raised his eyebrows at the questioning, but answered, “Yes, I serve her. I serve her with my life, mind and body, heart and soul. But she belongs to herself and no one else.”

Minerva thought that the Knight smiled at that. “You are free, then, to come and go as you wish, my lord, and I will serve you. And I thank you . . . my geas is almost lifted. I can feel it. Soon, I, too, will be free.”

With that cryptic statement, the Knight lowered his visor and the door clicked open.

Minerva looked puzzled. “I did not give the password.”

“Forgive me my lapse, my lady. It was the excitement of the moment,” the Knight replied.

“I don’t understand, Albus,” Minerva said. “A portrait shouldn’t have that kind of lapse, whether it is harmless or not.”

Albus hesitated a moment. “I did not tell you this before, as it sounded absurd, but when he would not announce my presence to you earlier in the week, he actually drew his sword against me and said that he would die in your service.” Albus pondered a moment, looking at the painting. “We haven’t time now, my dear, but later, we will explore this phenomenon further.”

Minerva nodded. “Until later, then, Albus.”

Albus kissed her again and watched her enter her room and close the door behind her before he left to return to his suite.

Minerva took a very quick shower, did her hair, and dressed in her mossy green robes, then went into her study. It was nice to have a study, she thought as she sat at her desk and took out her quill and parchment.

The first letter she wrote was to her parents.

“Dear Mother and Dad,

“I wanted to let you know that all is well with me here, and I shall see you at Melina’s wedding on the 23rd, if not earlier. Professor Dumbledore will be escorting me.

“Love,

“Minerva
“17 August 1957
“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry”

When she finished that one, she pondered for a moment before writing the next.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
“17 August 1957

“Dear Quin,

“Could you meet me in Hogsmeade this afternoon? Perhaps for tea? I have some news for you.

“Best,

“Minerva”

Minerva assumed that he would know what her news was as soon as he received the letter, but she wanted to tell him herself. He must have somehow discovered Albus’s feelings for her when he visited him the previous evening, and that is why he told Albus to tell her the truth. Minerva felt that there was more to the story than that, but she wouldn’t press Albus about it. He had clearly suffered while she had been gone from the castle and had feared her response when she read his letter and poem. And she had had Quin, but he had had no one but Wilspy to look after him, really. And it didn’t sound as though Albus had confided in anyone at all about his feelings for her. He had suffered at least as much as she had, just differently.

Minerva left and ran up to the Owlery, hoping that Quin could meet her that afternoon. It was very short notice. She sent his letter off with the largest Eagle Owl available, and sent the one to her parents with a Scops, shrinking the letter a little first to make it easier for the bird to manage.

As she walked back to her suite, she thought about Quin, and she began to get a pit in her stomach. He had been so good to her, so loving, and she had taken advantage of him and of the feelings she suspected he had for her. True, she had believed that all was lost between her and Albus, and she certainly did care for Quin – she loved him, in a way, and he was not unattractive – but that did not excuse her behaviour. It certainly did not excuse hurting Quin as she no doubt had. And yet Quin had come to see Albus, likely not long after she had left his house for her parents’. In addition to telling him her good news, she would have to apologise to him. It might be awkward, but she owed him that much, at least.

She settled in her sitting room, and time seemed to drag as she waited for Albus, but ten minutes after she had returned from the Owlery, the Knight entered the painting above her mantle and announced that the master of the castle was at the door. Without wasting time replying to the portrait, Minerva waved her wand and opened the door. Albus met her halfway across the room, shutting the door behind himself with a flick of a finger. He caught her up in his arms and kissed her, then held her close.

“Missed me?” Minerva asked.

“Very much . . . I do hope . . . this becomes . . . easier,” Albus whispered as he rained kisses upon her upturned face.

Minerva kissed him again, pulling him toward the sofa where they sat and kissed and caressed each other. When finally Albus lay his head on hers and they caught their breath, Minerva was sitting across his lap, reclining in his arms. She sighed happily.

“I won’t mind missing you so much if you greet me like that each time,” she said with a smile. She snuggled closer, breathing in his scent and enjoying the sensation of his beard against her skin. She could feel his answering chuckle vibrate through her.

“As long as we will not scandalise or startle, my dear, I will be more than happy to greet you like that every time,” he answered.

Minerva thought for a moment. “Obviously we would be discreet in public, and certainly around the students, and I do believe that such an enthusiastic greeting is best kept for private, but . . . how to put this . . . I don’t want you to be a secret in my life, as though there were something illicit in our relationship.” She could feel Albus’s own hesitation before he answered.

“I never want you to feel as though this, our relationship, were something illicit or genuinely scandalous, but I do think that it might be for the best if, for now at least, the only ones who know of it are your parents and Quin, of necessity, and those few others with whom we may choose to share the information at some point in the future,” Albus said slowly and carefully.

Minerva shifted and looked up at him. “You say that almost as though there were something scandalous about it, the way that you have qualified it so. I do think it best to be discreet, of course, but I really do not want to feel as though we are hiding our relationship as though there were something to be ashamed of.”

Albus kissed her temple. “Of course not, my dear, but it is somewhat . . . unusual for a Headmaster to be in a romantic relationship with a member of his staff. And it is most certainly unusual for a wizard of my age to be courting a witch of yours. That you were once my student . . . perhaps that in itself is not such an impediment, so many years have passed since you were in school, but you were, in a way, my protege, and your appointment as Transfiguration teacher and subsequent rapid appointment as Head of Gryffindor might be questioned if it were commonly known –”

“I am not speaking of making our relationship commonly known, Albus,” Minerva said, interrupting him. “And although I wasn’t thinking about those points at the moment, they are certainly true. In fact, I used to worry that if my parents were to learn of my feelings for you, they would think that you had done something to encourage them or had perhaps behaved inappropriately when I was a student – not that the latter would be credible, of course – but it did concern me, and it’s why I did my best to hide my feelings for you from them. My best was apparently not sufficient, however, since it seems they have suspected for years how I felt about you. But are we going to have to hide our feelings from everyone else around us? I have spent so many years doing that, and I don’t know as I can bear to do it any longer.”

“You needn’t hide your feelings from me, though,” Albus responded gently. “Surely that is the important thing.”

“Yes, of course.” But Minerva couldn’t help herself, and tears rose to her eyes. “I just wish we could at least tell the people around us so that I don’t need to feel as though I must constantly pretend to care for you only as a friend.”

“I think it is for the best at the moment, though, my dear,” Albus said. “But do not cry. Surely telling your parents and Quin, that should be enough for now.”

“If you wish, Albus.” She lay her head against his shoulder. “I suppose it might be for the best that the rest of the staff not know immediately. They might wonder about the things that you mentioned, and even if they didn’t, they might think that you would treat me differently from everyone else – you won’t, will you, Albus?” Minerva asked, lifting her head and looking at him.

“I will endeavour not to, my dear Professor. As I said at the beginning of the summer, we will try to keep Hogwarts business and personal business separate, and if there is ever any question about whether something is a Hogwarts matter or a personal matter, we will talk about it. All right?”

Minerva nodded. “I didn’t precisely tell my parents about us in the letter I wrote them. I just told them I was well and that you would be escorting me to Melina’s wedding – I thought that would tell them everything.”

“Very sensible, Minerva. And whatever else you wish to tell them is entirely up to you. I do hope that your father doesn’t come after me in a McGonagall rage, though!” Albus said half-jokingly.

“I highly doubt that. And given your differing skills, I do not believe you would have very much to worry about, even if he did,” Minerva said.

“Yes, but having to Stun your father would not be pleasant, to say the least. Besides, I have come to like Merwyn. I would dislike losing his friendship.”

“You won’t. He likes you very much,” Minerva said reassuringly. “He speaks highly of you, and given my parents’ suspicions about my feelings toward you, I doubt he would have done that if he disapproved of the idea of you reciprocating them.”

“You said that they suspected for some years. How long?” Albus asked.

Minerva swallowed, then answered truthfully, “I don’t know. My mother didn’t say specifically.”

“Hmm . . . you know, when I visited you there last time, earlier in the summer, your father showed me a letter you had written a long time ago.” Albus made a face. “I probably should not have said anything about that.”

“What? What letter?” Minerva asked, puzzled.

“I ought not have mentioned it. Please don’t hold this against your parents, my dear. I am certain that they would have said something to you eventually.” Albus took a breath. “Before you came to France to rescue me, you apparently had written a letter to be delivered in the event of your death. Somehow, the letter was inadvertently delivered some months after your return.”

“It was!? Oh, no . . . I thought the Ministry destroyed them! Although I do think I had said I would retrieve it myself, but with everything that happened and my leave of absence, I simply forgot about it. My parents must have been quite startled to have received it,” Minerva said.

“Very. Shocked, I believe was the word that your father used. He said that at first, it didn’t seem appropriate to mention it to you, and after that, there never seemed a need to. But he wanted me to read it. I was unsure why, at the time, but now . . . you had said some rather nice things about me in the letter. I suppose that he wanted me to see that you cared about me even then.”

Minerva nodded. “I can understand why they didn’t mention it when they received it, and how there would just not be an occasion to do so later,” she said, then she smiled up at him. “So you see, Albus, my father and mother want what’s best for me, and if I want you, that’s what they want, too. Just as you said about Wilspy wanting the best for you.”

Albus nodded. “Very well, my dear. And Quin?”

“I just told him I had news, although I am sure he can guess what the news is, since he saw you yesterday and I am here at Hogwarts today,” Minerva replied. “I believe he will be very pleased.”

“I was wondering, would you give him a message for me?” Albus asked.

“Of course. What would you like me to tell him?”

“I think I’ll just write him a little note. I simply wish to thank him.”

“What about Gertrude, Albus?” Minerva asked.

“What about her?”

“What will you tell her? Did she say anything at lunch?”

Albus chuckled. “It seems that I was not fast enough to get ready for lunch, and at noon, while I was still in the shower, my charm announced that the gargoyle had let someone into the stairway. Just a few minutes later, I found out who had been admitted.” He laughed again. “It seems Gertrude was quite serious about having Hagrid drag me to lunch! I opened the door from the bedroom to the sitting room – not even properly dressed, mind, just my dressing gown wrapped loosely around me, my beard and hair still wet from my shower, not having had time to dry them – and who should I see but both Gertrude and Hagrid.” He laughed again. “Poor Hagrid! He kept telling me that Gertrude insisted I go to lunch, and he was there to make sure I didn’t ‘waste away to naught bu’ skin an’ bone,’ as he put it, but he was also clearly embarrassed at having interrupted my shower.”

Minerva laughed. “Hagrid is shy about things like that, I think. And Gertrude?”

“She said she was glad to see I was taking some care for my personal hygiene, but that I was late for lunch as it was now twelve-oh-four!” Albus laughed again. “I thanked her, assured her that I had, indeed, planned to come to lunch but that I was late because I had met with you earlier – I didn’t tell her the details, of course! Then I asked her how she managed to get Hagrid up the stairs.”

“Well? How did she?” Minerva asked as Albus interrupted his story to chuckle again.

“She rolled her eyes, much as you used to when you were a girl, and she asked me if I were really that half-daft, and when I only looked at her blankly, she said, somewhat indignantly, I believe, ‘I may be an Arithmancer, but I am still a witch and I have not forgotten how to perform a Levitation Charm when need be!’”

Minerva laughed loudly at that, laughing until tears ran down her face as she imagined Gertrude, wand out, Levitating poor Hagrid up the stairs to the Headmaster’s suite, ready to drag Albus down to lunch for his own good.

“Did she really think –” Minerva burst into laughter again, then finally, coughing, she asked, “Did she really think that the two of them could have wrangled you downstairs to lunch if you didn’t want to go?” She laughed, trying to imagine such a thing. “I can see it right now, the Headmaster, caught unawares, dripping wet, Stunned by Gertrude – only because she had the advantage of surprise, of course – then perhaps Petrified, and carried bodily down to the staff room, wrapped only in his dressing gown, by Hagrid, who would probably be weeping because of the necessity of having you Stunned and Petrified!”

Albus laughed with Minerva. “They did very kindly allow me to dry my hair and dress before I left.”

“I see that Wilspy restored your wardrobe to you – or are those the robes she left you for today?” Minerva asked. He was wearing the rose and gold robes that she liked so well on him.

“She did, indeed, restore my robes to me,” Albus answered, “and I was allowed to choose my clothes for the day myself.”

“Good choice. I have always liked these robes on you. They make your cheeks rosy and they bring out the colour of your eyes.” Minerva smiled to see Albus’s cheeks grow pinker with her compliments. “There is one set of robes, however . . . if I never see them on you again, I will be quite happy.”

“Really? Which ones?” Albus asked, surprised.

“The grey ones. Not the taupe and mauve, those are fine. But the grey ones should be turned into rags. Or burned, if I may be blunt. They do nothing for you, and although I am no slave to fashion and I think there is a great deal to be said for not discarding robes simply because they are not the latest style, those robes are awful. I hope you are not terribly fond of them and I have just insulted your favourite outfit.”

“Not at all, my dear!” Albus said, blinking, somewhat startled. “I am not particularly fond of them, myself, but I didn’t think they were so bad. They are one of my few sets of sensible robes, you see. I wear them when I don’t want to draw attention to my clothing.”

“Yes, well, they do draw attention, Albus, and not in a good way. Those ruffles – brrrr! They couldn’t have been a particularly attractive fashion even when they were stylish. It looks as though you’re wearing draperies – ugly draperies.”

Albus laughed. “Very well, I will instruct Wilspy to dispose of them in whatever way she sees fit. Unless you think that a trip to Madam Malkin’s –”

“A trip to Madam Malkin’s would be an excellent idea, but to replace them. I believe she would be insulted if she were asked to tailor those over for you. You aren’t destitute. We can find some other nice robes for you, well-tailored but conservative, if you feel you must have some conservative robes. I must also say that the navy robes don’t do anything for you,” Minerva said with a frown. “They aren’t terrible, of course, but you usually dress so well, it is always something of a shock to see you in something unattractive.”

“But the point has been to appear less . . . eccentric,” Albus said hesitantly.

“I don’t see why you should care about that – it’s to do with me, isn’t it?” Minerva asked, suddenly drawing the connection between his drab robes, his Glamour earlier that summer, and his surprising and uncharacteristic worries about being an “old codger.”

“Not – well, yes, I suppose so. But a wizard does need the occasional conservative robes. I do recognise that, despite my preference for more colourful clothing.”

“‘Conservative’ does not have to mean ‘ugly,’ though, Albus. The other day when Quin went to the Ministry, he was wearing conservative robes – in fact, I have seen him in conservative robes on other occasions, as well – but they don’t detract from his appearance –”

“That would be difficult, though, my dear. He is a strikingly handsome wizard,” Albus said, interrupting her.

“As are you, Albus. But even Quin couldn’t wear those grey, ruffly robes and not look awful.” Minerva giggled as an image arose in her mind of Quin wearing the ruffled robes. “No, you need to have them properly tailored, that’s all. And you can keep them the traditional style, if you like, but Quin also has some that look a good deal like a Muggle business suit. He wears starched white shirts with them.”

Albus shook his head. “I do like the more traditional wizarding look. And starched collars give me a rash after a while.”

Minerva laughed. “Very well. But let’s go to Madam Malkin’s and have her do some nice robes for you that are more conservative than your usual, but without detracting from your appearance as those grey ones do.”

Albus nodded. “But I can go on my own, Minerva.”

“I would like to –” Minerva began.

“No need to discuss this now – and there’s an owl at your window,” he said, opening the window with a gesture.

It was the same Eagle Owl that Minerva had sent off with Quin’s letter, and it was carrying his reply. Minerva didn’t stir from Albus’s embrace, but opened it and read it as she lay in his arms and the owl left the way it came.

“17 August

“Dear Minerva,

“I would be pleased to meet you in Hogsmeade this afternoon. Shall we say three o’clock by the Quidditch shop?

“Best,

“Quin”

“He suggests three o’clock,” Minerva said. She sighed. “I really do want to see him and talk to him, but at the same time, I don’t want to leave your arms.”

Albus kissed her forehead. “Our lives do go on, although I do admit that leaving you at your door this morning was difficult, and sitting through lunch with Gertrude, Hagrid, Malcolm, and Wilhelmina, who apparently returned this morning, was even more of a trial.”

“Hagrid must be happy Wilhelmina’s back,” Minerva observed as she played with Albus’s beard.

“I suppose he is. He seemed happy enough during lunch, at any rate.” Albus paused and looked down at Minerva. “Is there some particular reason he would be happy about her return, Minerva?”

Minerva stopped twirling her fingers in his beard and hesitated, holding her breath. “I shouldn’t say anything, I mean, if you haven’t noticed, and they haven’t told you –”

“Told me what?” Albus asked.

“Well, Hagrid and Wilhelmina are good friends. Very good friends.”

“Yes – wait, you mean – ?” Albus looked perplexed. “Surely not!”

“Yes, I do mean very good, very close friends. Very,” Minerva answered, amused by his reaction.

“But she’s – and he’s – and – I never noticed! Or I suppose I did, but . . . I just didn’t think . . . are you sure?”

“Absolutely positively certain, Albus,” Minerva said. “And do not ask me for the details about how I came to be so certain, please.”

“Hmmm. No wonder Hagrid was distressed earlier in the summer, after Wilhelmina accepted the job at the reserve. I thought perhaps he was envious of her opportunity, although it did occur to me that he would miss her. They seemed close. But not that close. And you’re certain?”

“Completely. Let’s just say that an Animagus sometimes sees things she wishes she didn’t, and leave it at that, shall we?”

“Oh, my . . .” A look of concern now crossed his face. “And do you know . . . is it fully consensual? What I mean to ask is, Rubeus is a good deal younger than she, and so eager to please –”

“And he remains eager to please her, believe me, Albus, but I had a similar concern, and I talked to Wilhelmina about it. She assured me that it’s only been the last few years, and I believe her. It is sad for Hagrid, of course, since she will be leaving, but she never promised to stay with him forever, and he always knew it was a possibility that she would leave and he would stay. Not that that makes it easier for him, of course, but I believe she cares for him and that it has been mutually consensual and good for both of them while it has lasted.”

“I wonder what else goes on at Hogwarts that I don’t know about,” Albus said with a chuckle. “But you ought to send Quin a reply now.”

Minerva shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. He’d scarcely receive the letter before he would have to leave, anyway. I imagine he expects to hear from me only if three isn’t a good time.”

“You just don’t want to get up,” Albus said teasingly.

“You are right about that, Albus.” And she demonstrated just how right he was, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him.