Repentance

[morgan72uk]

OK - so, I'm new to this site - and to the fandom. I've been posting this to ff.net and it occurred to me that it might also be appreciated here.
I am a closet technophobe - so lets hope this works!

Title: Repentance
Author: Morgan72uk
Rating: PG13
Summary: The first war against Voldemort is at its height, the Order of the Pheonix has just gained a potenitally valuable spy. But to prepare him for his ordeal Dumbledore needs the help of the last person he sent to spy on a dark lord, even though he has never forgiven himself for all but destroying her.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling – I thought some of the grown ups deserved to be taken out for a spin – I promise not to break them.

Repentence - part 1

“You wanted to see me Headmaster?” At the sound of her voice he turned away from the window, from the stark beauty of the moonlit grounds. Just for a moment he saw her not as she was now – capable, stern, perhaps even cold – but as she had been almost half a century before – young, brave and so very frightened.

He flicked the memory away and focussed once more on the woman who stood before him, “I need your help Professor McGonagall.”

“Of course,” on another day she might have made a dry, acerbic comment about paperwork, or bureaucracy but today there was nothing more than mild curiosity in her tone. He gestured to the chairs in front of the fire and when they were both seated and he had poured tea he said,

“Severus Snape came to me a day ago.”

“Snape! What did he want?”

“He wanted my help – he has repented of his decision to become a death eater, he is asking us to help him.”

“Poor boy.” It was true that Snape was little more than a boy, but he was surprised at her sympathy.

“The lioness shows mercy to the snake, to the death eater?” he remarked softly. The Head of Gryffindor House, his ally, loyal deputy and for many years his close friend raised her head to look steadily across the table at him.

“I show mercy because I can imagine the choice that faces him – have you told him yet Albus? That his only chance to avoid Azkaban is to turn spy?”

“No, I haven’t told him yet.” But they both knew that he would, “I’d like you there when I do and, if he agrees to return to Tom as our spy I will need your help to prepare him.” For a moment her fingers tightened on the cup she held, but she placed it back on the saucer, as careful and precise as ever, and nodded.

“Of course, I'll do whatever I can do to help.”

The second memory was more powerful, for all that it was years old. It was 1944, the war against Grindelwald and his muggle ally Hitler had slowly turned in their favour and as Albus Dumbledorewalked briskly through the Ministry of Magic he had felt, for the first time in years, an air of cautious optimism.

He’d been summoned from Hogwarts that morning, a summons that had been both urgent and top secret – and now he was on his way to meet his contact Alastor Moody. At the sound of his name he turned and Moody hurried towards him, his face twisted into a scowl.
“Come with me.” He’d followed through long corridors; down, down into the depths of the Ministry, to the places where secrets and other unmentionables were kept locked away.

“Alastor – what’s going on?”

“A break – perhaps a way to get him.” There was no doubt at all whom he meant, Grindelwald had decimated the magical community and his ally had laid waste to most of Europe. They were all weary and worn down from the years of war – but still they fought. The alternative was unthinkable. “But it could be a trick, a trap, a double-agent. We need to be sure, constant vigilance is the only thing that has kept us alive this long.” Since Moody was an extremely successful hunter of dark wizards there was little doubt that ‘constant vigilance’ was important. Unfortunately it sometimes meant that his explanations were lacking in information.

“Are you saying we have a spy, close to Grindelwald, a double-agent?”

“We’ve been approached, if it’s true – it could be the beginning of the end.” They entered a room where two Aurors stood guard. Dumbledore could still remember the first moment of shock when he realised their prisoner was a small tabby cat.

“This is the double agent who is going to end the war?” He said, amused in spite of himself and not even remotely surprised when the cat blinked out of existence with a soft pop to be replaced by – and this he wasn’t expecting – a young woman.

Her dark hair was bound in a messy knot, her skin was so pale it was almost translucent and the eyes that flicked over him with an assessing gaze, were as wary and watchful as those of the cat she’d been just moments before.

“This is Minerva McGonagall,” Moody said, “she apparated into one of my colleague's homes this morning and offered to spy for us.”

Normally the young woman would probably not have been taken seriously, she would probably have been viewed as unstable, perhaps even been sent to St Mungo’s. But apparating into an auror’s home showed nerve and skill and then there was the name, that name.

“It’s been some years Miss McGonagall,” Dumbledore said, “I was sorry to lose you from my class – and from my House.”

“I was sorry to leave Professor.” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognised her – but perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. She had barely been in her second year when her father had removed her from Hogwarts, insisting that she complete her education at Beaubaxtons. She had been a tiny, fragile thing then, but with an explosive temper and an inquisitive intelligence that had cried out to be stretched and challenged. The fact that she was an animagi so young was proof that he hadn’t been wrong about her potential. He had scarcely given her a thought since her departure all those years before – but he should have done – especially because her father had become one of Grindelwald’s strongest supporters.

“I take it you don’t share you father’s loyalties?”

“I’ve been living in Scotland,” she said quietly, “the war made it impossible for me to complete my studies. But, I’ve been nursing and working on my, animagus transformation. Two months ago my father summoned me to Germany, he fears his influence is waning, that he is losing his place within the inner circle. He hopes that I will be an inducement to restore my family’s favour.” She’d tilted her chin up, her words making it completely clear what her return would involve, what they might be sending her back to.
If they were to use her as a spy he would have to help her, prepare her. Before they even got that far he would have to try to discover whether or not she was telling the truth. He’d have to look inside her mind, discover who she really was – friend or foe.

He blinked and the memory faded. In the study his Deputy met his eyes for a single instant and then she looked away. But, it was enough - and he knew instinctively that she had been remembering as well. He fought back the guilt that rose, like bile, in his throat. All those years ago he had helped to destroy the woman she’d been. He wanted to believe that it would be different with Severus Snape. But they were at war again, he knew he could make no such promises and worse, he knew she would not ask them of him.

TBC...

[morgan72uk]

Um - and this is the bit I'm not entirely sure how to do...
Disclaimers etc in Part 1 - probably.

Repentance – part 2

Severus Snape accepted his fate with a cold, hard dignity that Minerva found terrifying, and all too reminiscent of herself. She saw the moment that hope died in his eyes, the moment he realised that throwing himself on the mercy of his old Headmaster had not saved him – or at least not in the way he had been hoping for. It was all too easy to look at him and remember the boy he had been not so long ago. But it was useless now to ask herself why none of the teachers at Hogwarts had managed to reach him, why none of them had been able to see his ability and his unhappiness. They had abandoned him to his fate – only his own strength had offered him this paltry shot at repentance – and even that might not be enough.

She stayed in the shadows while Albus Dumbledore told the boy, their spy, what his choice was. She didn’t move from the darkness when he replied, with a voice that she was sure he struggled hard to keep steady, that he would do whatever was asked of him. Only when her friend and mentor was satisfied did he call her from the corner of the room and she changed back from her cat form to stand before two men.

“What is she doing here?” Now Snape’s voice was far from steady and she had to wonder just what it was about her in particular he found so objectionable. It was the Headmaster who replied,

“You need her help – I will teach you to shield your thoughts from Voldemort’s, but Professor McGonagall will…”

“Lend me some Gryffindor courage?” Snape's tone was scathing and Minerva didn’t tell him that if he wanted to survive he would be better off relying on Slytherin cunning.

“My boy, I’ve never been a spy, I’ve never had to live on my wits, I can’t tell you what it will be like, what you’ll need to be prepared for.” She saw Snape’s eyes widen as the implication sank in, none of them really needed the sentence to be finished, “but Professor McGonagall has.”

She closed her eyes and, just for a moment she was back in a room buried deep within the Ministry of Magic as Albus Dumbledore – a man who had taught her the basics of transfiguration rooted around in her mind looking for lies, evasions, betrayals. Whatever he had found had satisfied him – and although Moody had wanted her to bind herself to them with a spell, Dumbledore had pronounced it unnecessary.

“What did you tell your father when you left Germany?” Moody asked as she had struggled to put aside the disturbing feeling of someone wandering freely through her mind.

“That I needed to put my affairs in order in Scotland – and that I would return in a week.”

“You were certain we would accept your help?” She had turned back and met Albus’ gaze, disconcerted by the remembered intimacy of just a moment before.

“I have learnt that very little is certain – but I hoped you would not refuse my offer.”

“You understand that this will be extremely dangerous? I can teach you to shield your thoughts from Grindelwald, a week is not long to learn such a challenging skill but I am sure you can master the rudiments of it Miss McGonagall. But you will face other dangers, you will need to be on your guard constantly – and there are no guarantees that if you are discovered we will be able to rescue you.” Hearing him speak the words had been so much more real than when the thoughts were flying around in her head. And she had known that this was her only chance to back out. She had no intention of taking it.

“Professor – my father, who I love, wishes to give me to his master as proof of his, loyalty. Even if I were to defy him and refuse to return to Germany, I feel sure he would find me and take me back by force. I could ask for your protection, but at a time of war I imagine your resources could be put to better use. Under these circucmstances I do not see that there is much of a choice.” Something had flashed in her former Professor’s eyes at her words, but the emotion had come and gone too rapidly for her to identify it. All she knew was that after her words his demeanour had changed.

“You realise that you will be called upon to betray your father?” Moody asked. He’d been watching the two of them carefully and even now, years later she wasn’t sure what he had been looking for.

“I do.”

When she opened her eyes she was standing between two men, who both needed her, albeit in different ways. Snape was looking at her as though he was seeing her for the first time and the Headmaster, her friend, was refusing to look at her at all.

“How long do you think we will have before you are summoned again?” She asked briskly.

“I don’t know, it can be days, or weeks or just a few hours. If I do not go when I am called the pain will become worse and when I doeventually appear I will be punished.”

“Well, let us hope your master does not feel the need to have you at his side for the next couple of days.” She glanced over towards Albus, “one can learn the rudiments of occulmency in a week if one is an apt pupil. I have no doubt that you will do all we ask of you Mr Snape.”

Dumbledore didn’t know if he could stand here and listen to this, hear Minerva teach Snape what she had learnt from Moody, what she had learnt over the months that she had spent with Grindelwald. He didn’t want to remember the result of that time – although there was little he could do to prevent either of them from doing so. He didn’t want to face the fact that what he was asking Minerva to relive must be the stuff of her deepest, darkest nightmares.

“Well, I have matters to attend to. Mr Snape, you will receive your first lesson in occulmency tonight – at 6 o’clock, in my study.”

Snape’s eyes widened as the Headmaster took his departure, and Minerva thought about telling him what he would perhaps learn for himself one day, that the greatest wizard alive was, at times, a coward. That he would never be comfortable facing the consequences of his decisions when he believed they led to destruction and damnation – but that he would make the decisions anyway.

But Albus wasn’t the only coward here and she couldn’t tell her newest pupil that – or not yet anyway. Instead she relied on her teacher’s instincts and in the dryest of voices she began, “In order to stay alive in the most perilous of circumstances you will need,” and here she paused, a smile almost gracing her lips as she remembered the hours when it was drummed into her, “constant vigilance.”

TBC

[morgan72uk]

Impressively bad with technology - that's me.
Disclaimers etc. in Part 1

Repentance – part 3

Wearily Minerva climbed the stairs to the Headmaster’s study, pausing to collect her scattered thoughts before giving this weeks ludicrous password and proceeding inside. It had been a very long 2 days; between her normal duties and her new charge she was aware of feeling more than usually weary.

But as she stepped into the study the roaring fire, the spicy aroma of her favour tea and the sight of Albus Dumbledore placidly buttering warm crumpets calmed her as nothing else could. Gratefully she slipped into the chair opposite him and neither of them spoke until she had taken her first sip of tea and eaten one of the crumpets he offered her.

“So, how is Mr Snape faring?” Dumbledore asked, his eyebrows raised as though he was perfectly aware just how, challenging, Snape was proving.

“Well, it turns out hating everyone is an excellent basis for a career as a spy,” she began acerbically, before adding with grudging approval, “he’s making progress, in his own unique fashion. We certainly won’t have to worry about him being too trusting of others.”

“My dear I seem to remember that you were extremely cautious about who you chose to trust. Is it possible that you and he are more similar that you wish to admit?” She was surprised that he had so easily summoned the spectre of her spying activities; it was the one area they had resolutely avoided talking about over the years. In fact, she was still cautious – she kept her feelings closed off behind walls that had only seemed to grow taller and stronger over the years and she thought they both knew it. She glanced away from him, until she had found an answer that would not betray either of them too much.

“You’re quite right – I was naturally rather reserved and cautious, that instinct served me well, when I needed it to. But there’s quite a difference between taking care who you allow to get close and resolutely despising everyone you come into contact with.”

“I can only imagine what could have led him to develop such an attitude.” She snorted and decided it would be charitable not to debate the issue further. Instead she asked,

“And how is he picking up Occulmency?”

“Rather well, in fact he seems to have something of a natural aptitude for it.”

“How very Slytherin of him.”

Dumbledore didn’t respond, although he noted her tone and couldn’t help but recall that she hadn’t enjoyed Occulmency at all. It would be quite a stretch to describe her as having natural aptitude for it. Her attempts to master the subject had been extremely frustrating and she had triumphed in the end only because of determination and discipline – both of which she possessed in spades.

As soon as Dumbledore had pronounced himself satisfied with her motives Moody had arranged for her to be moved to a ‘safe house’. With only a week to prepare they had then launched into an extensive training programme – not at all dissimilar to the one Severus Snape was now being put through. One of them had been with her constantly during her waking hours, the house was heavily warded to prevent attacks – and she wasn’t allowed to go outside unescorted.

It was he supposed, one way to get to know someone. Certainly it was during that week that he had mentally acknowledged that she was no longer the child he had taught, but instead a young woman of ability and determination. No doubt it was that period which cemented the basis of their successful partnership here at Hogwarts, as well as building the foundations of their long friendship. But he conceded, at least privately, that other feelings had swirled around them as well – taking him at least completely by surprise.

It was during a break from one of her Occulmency lessons that he had returned to the subject of her father. He had been rooting around inside her mind, since she still couldn’t stop him and he had seen images of her recent conversations. When the connection had at last been repelled, the memory of what he had seen and felt prompted him to say, “you still love your father.”

She had looked up from the chair she was curled in, her face registering nothing more than a mild surprise that he had made a statement – rather than asked a question.

“One can love someone without agreeing with what they believe in.” Anxiety had flickered through him at her tone and for the first time he realised that she had an ulterior motive – and he was afraid of where it would lead her.

“But I’m not sure it is wise to hope to save them, especially when trying to do so may put the lives of others at risk.” Her expression had been grave, she’d looked away, biting her lip for a moment and he had tried to apologise. She’d brushed his words away, as though they were of minimal importance.

As the moment had threatened to become strained she had said quietly, “I want to save him, but I know I may not be able to. I know I may have no choice but to betray him. If it comes to that I won’t put the lives of other people at risk in a foolish attempt to change something I have little control over.”

Watching her now – decades later, it was possible to see vestiges of the young woman she’d been once upon a time. But, they were carefully tucked away, tempered by lessons learnt the hard way, by damage inflicted through impossible choices. He didn’t blame himself, entirely; and even if he did he’d had no choice – but the echo of old feelings stirred within him along with the ever-present sadness at what had been lost.

With some difficulty he returned to the subject at hand. “I have to confess I am facing something of a dilemma about Mr Snape. We can certainly hide his presence here for the time being, but he will need to contact us, he may need to return here on frequent occasions and I am not sure we can disguise that. My inclination is to let him claim that I am concerned for his well-being, that I am attempting to rescue him. But, if I do, it is very likely that he will capture Tom’s attention, catapulting him to the centre of the death eaters – adding to the danger he faces.”

“Because 'you know who' will want to use him against you, as a spy at the very least?” As he’d expected his Deputy grasped his point immediately and turned her considerable intelligence to the task of finding a solution. “It’s a situation that we could make use of,” she mused, “it would be an opportunity to lay false trails, transmit all kinds of information that misdirects attention concerning our activities. But he’s untested – I’m not even sure we can trust him.” At his expression she held up a hand, “I know you trust him Albus, I know you’re mostly right about these things. But I’m maintaining a healthy scepticism.”

“You don’t trust my judgement?” His smile told her that he was teasing her.

“Certainly not on whether food needs additional sweetener.” He tipped his head, conceding her point. “I don’t have your capacity to look at someone and believe in them. I require some element of proof, empirical evidence. Perhaps I should have studied legilmency – I have had one of the world’s foremost experts at my disposal all these years. I suppose I could have mastered it if I’d been so inclined. That way we wouldn’t even have to converse – all of our discussions about the school could have been conducted simply by exploring each other’s mind.”

“But I would miss your wry observations on my follies.” She smiled a little at the compliment, even though she doubted that he really had any follies.

“I have a suggestion about young Mr Snape. I was going to talk to you about this anyway – I don't wish to undermine a colleague - but I believe we would benefit from having an assistant Potions master. My recollection is that Potions was his strongest subject. If he were to apply for the post, I have a feeling his application would be successful. Of course, that might also bring him to the attention of his master, but perhaps in a less dramatic way.”

“An elegant solution, how very Slytherin of you Minerva.” She tutted at him, but his smile told her the suggestion was a good one – and would likely be acted upon.

They sipped their tea companionably for a while, the silence comfortable and familiar, though when she glanced at him she was certain he still had something on his mind. Long experience told her that he would discuss it with her when he was ready, that trying to drag it forth would serve no purpose. She was just about to suggest a game of chess later – a sure way of stopping him brooding for a couple of hours when he said, “I am sorry if this situation is forcing you to relive painful memories.”

Minerva sighed, not at all surprised at the apology, but not inclined to allow the assumption behind it to go unchallenged either. It was going to be complicated unravelling the past from the present, teaching Snape what she had herself been taught was bringing up old memories. More disturbingly, it seemed to be retrieving feelings she was sure were dead and buried.

Just for a moment she indulged herself with a memory from her past, a moment etched in her consciousness. She had been struggling with Occulmency again and Albus, as she had still been trying to remember to call him, had been pulling memories of her school days out of her mind. He had just been about to get to a very embarrassing incident – which she had never shared with anyone, when a voice she just about recognised as her own had seemed to shout out, “no!”

The connection between them came crashing down and as she reeled from the impact of repelling him she’d stumbled. His arm had shot out to steady her, catching her by the wrist and in that moment of contact, a pulse of electricity had hit her almost sending her staggering again. His grip on her wrist had tightened and as she felt his thumb move on the soft skin, her breath had caught. She’d looked up to see a mystified expression on his face, his gaze riveted on the only place where they were touching. And as his thumb turned a small circle, almost as though he were experimenting with the effect, she’d had to bite her lip to prevent the groan that welled up within her from escaping.

The moment was ended as abruptly as it had started. He’d dropped his hold on her, taken a step back and in a perfectly level voice congratulated on her first success in Occulmency. But he’d avoided meeting her eyes for the rest of the afternoon. It had been the first time she’d really thought of him as a man instead of her teacher, the first time she had acknowledged that he had a magnetism that belied his appearance, the first time she had felt its pull.

Dragging her attention back from what was clearly ancient history she set her cup down smartly on the table and leaned forward so he had no choice but to meet her eyes. “Albus, I am not the young woman you sent off to spy on Grindelwald. I haven’t been for a very long time. I think you worry about what happened to her far more than I do.”

TBC

[tayryn]

oooh... what an intriguing beginning!!

please hurry with more!

[gingerkitten]

Please! Please continue!! This is so good!

[Herzele]

Great start !! I can't wait to read more ...

[Jessabelle]

Welcome to the board! This fic. is very very good. I really like it! You need to post again as soon as you can!

[Alesia]

I have been reading and giving feedback on ff.net but I am really glad you choose to post this here. I look forward toward your updates.

[tayryn]

okay... i just realized, that you must have been posting the second and third parts while i was commenting yesterday! i am so glad i popped in to look here... as the other two parts were just as intriguing as the first!!

i truly am looking forward to more of this story!!

[morgan72uk]

A/N - thanks for the reviews!

Repentance – part 4

Minerva was with Severus when he received his summons. As the days had passed they had found a fragile sort of camaraderie – based she was sure on her ability to help him understand what it meant to be a spy. Not since her lengthy debriefing had she spoken in such detail about her time in Grindelwald’s fortress. There was a catharsis in her honesty – which was more than she had expected. It helped that her newest student was so resolutely not curious about what had happened to her. His questions were all focussed on what he would need to know to survive; what he should do in any given situation. His interest was purely academic – which enabled her to be almost dispassionate about the subject and she recognised there was security in that.

But the air around them had changed suddenly, the almost companionable atmosphere vanished and in its place had come palpable tension as he clutched the place on his arm where the dark mark was etched. She moved rapidly, not waiting for Snape’s confirmation of what had happened, grateful at least that this moment had come after classes had ended for the day and the students were safely ensconced in their common rooms. When she made contact with the Headmaster their conversation was brief and to the point.

“I’ll be there at once.” As good as his word he was with them within seconds – his mysteriously rapid transit through the castle not a subject to be dwelt upon in this moment.

“Minerva – would you mind leaving us?”

“Of course not,” The dismissal was not a surprise, but she took a moment to look at the young man she had tried prepare. She wanted to believe they could trust him, she wanted to believe that she had done enough to help him stay alive. But she knew better than anyone that where he was going there were precious few certainties.

There were a multitude of things she could have said to him in those final moments. She found it disturbing that she fell so easily into the character of stern teacher. But, perhaps that was what he needed from her.

“Mr Snape – good luck. I expect you to return with your report as soon as practicable.” He met her eyes and for a moment she could clearly see his fear but then he lifted his chin and clenched his jaw, nodding at her with steely determination.

Her progress back to her study was characteristically brisk, she scarcely saw the staircases and corridors she passed along. Her gaze, for once, was fixed firmly on the past.

They had all grown closer after having worked so intensively together for the week. Even Moody had loosened up a little towards her, and she’d suspected that he was someone who did not easily give his trust. But, on the last night he and Albus had become awkward, she’d interrupted several whispered conversations between them, they’d almost seemed to be arguing over some task. Eventually Moody had left, muttering something unintelligible about paperwork.

She still had no idea what was going on and she’d almost laughed outloud, when faltering and stumbling her former professor had started to talk to her about sex.

It had quickly become clear that he was making sure that she understood exactly what she would be returning to, what would likely be expected of her. She’d been amused at his reticence – after all she’d been educated at Beauxbatons, a school with a distinctly relaxed attitude to relationships and sex. From her former Head of House’s reaction she'd gathered that at Hogwarts the situation was not so liberal. But, she’d also wondered if things between them were making the discussion more complicated.

There had been no repetition of the moment when they had touched, both of them had been careful about observing the proprieties. A little too careful perhaps.

She’d let him stutter on for a while longer, maliciously enjoying his discomfort. She’d been aware of his daunting power, of his amazing intellect and she was almost relieved to discover that he had weaknesses after all. Eventually however, she’d felt the need to put a stop to his rambling.

“Albus, it’s fine. I’m not exactly a trembling virgin.” His eyes had widened and for a moment she was sure he was lost for words. “In fact, I’m not a virgin at all – and I do realise that my beloved father plans for me to become Grindelwald’s latest mistress.” His discomfort had seemed to vanish in the face of her practicality and it had been his turn to shock her.

“He’ll be more interested in you when he realises you aren’t a trembling virgin.” All week she had been surprised at just how much he knew about Grindelwald – although this conclusion was the most astonishing insight yet.

“I’d have thought he’d have been the deflowering type?”

“You can only deflower a virgin once, Minerva. Your experience will make you more interesting to him, he’ll want to impress you, seduce you.”

“And so I’ll warm his bed for long enough to be of more use?” His abrupt nod had confirmed her conclusion . Yet even now, decades later, she’d never really known what prompted her to add, “so – given that, what were you planning to do had I been, unsullied?”

His response had been an explosion of outrage that sounded distinctly like, “damn it Minerva!” Which made her think she didn’t want to know what his answer was going to be.

And then he’d kissed her, hard and she didn’t care anymore.

Sometimes it amused her to remember that the two of them ever shared such a moment. That they had ever clung together, desperately trying to maintain physical contact as the reality of their situation crashed down around them. Sometimes, when they were ensconced in a game of chess, or grumbling good naturedly about the deliberations of the Board of Governors she was astonished that she had ever been strong enough to let him go. But, they had been subject to the greater good and she could still remember the moment she stepped out of his embrace to say firmly, “we shouldn’t do this.”

Lost in memories she found that her steps had carried her back to Griffyndor tower, almost without a conscious decision about her destination. She crossed her study to stand at the window and watched as a small, lonely figure made its way across the school grounds. The darkness enveloped him like a cloak and only her excellent eyesight made it possible to distinguish him from the shadows that swirled around him. From this distance Severus looked too fragile and insubstantial for the weight they had placed upon his shoulders. If she were a different woman she might have offered a prayer for his safe keeping – but she was logical and rational – and any belief in a higher power had been sacrificed on the alter of necessity many years ago.

Dumbledore was not surprised to find her watching Snape’s progress into the darkness. He wasn’t surprised by her stiff posture, or the way her lips had narrowed almost to the point of vanishing. He wished there had been a way to spare her the anxiety of the role he had placed her in – but realistically he knew she would be no use to Severus if she had not cared whether he lived or died.

Over the years he had deliberately kept her out of this war, hidden behind his need for her support at Hogwarts.Whenever she questioned his decision he had told her that she would help him most by ensuring she could not be implicated if his enemies moved against him. But he had not hesitated to make use of her when he’d needed her, when there was a role that no one but she could fulfil. He hated the fact that in this mammoth game of chess against the forces of darkness, there was no one he cared about whom he could keep safe.

He joined her in her vigil at the window and they watched in silence until Severus had disappeared into the night. He was sure it would be several hours before either of them would even think about getting some rest and quietly he suggested a game of chess to pass the time. She agreed readily, apparently grateful to engage in an activity that would demand much of her attention. It was something he knew he needed as well. He was worried about the fate of the young man he had so blithely sent into the night but, equally, at every turn he seemed to be assaulted by memories of the hours before Minerva had left to go to Grindelwald.

He hadn’t planned to kiss her that night; he’d gone out of his way to be careful around her since the crackle of energy and attraction from their accidental touch days before. But, the thought of her looking at Grindelwald with the same interest and curiosity he could see in her eyes when they talked, had made him realise just how fascinated by her he had become himself. And when she had asked what he would have done if she’d been a virgin, almost teasing him, it had been more than his tenuous grip on control could bear.

For the first few seconds the fact that she was kissing him back was heady and intoxicating – something he hadn’t felt in far too long. But reality had asserted itself and when they had parted to catch their breath he had looked into her eyes and known that it was impossible.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she’d said firmly and a voice in his head, that sounded suspiciously like Moody’s, had agreed with her.

“You’re right. Forgive me?”

“Always,” the word was almost a whisper and something in its timbre had made him pause in the act of retreating to a safe distance. Frozen, they’d simply gazed at each other, trapped by circumstances – but the thought of where she might be in 24 hours had hammered away at him, making him weak.

“I think an early night is called for,” she’d said at last in a tone so normal it sounded as though she were discussing the weather. “I’d like it if you joined me.” And still he had hesitated – even though it was abundantly clear what she was suggesting. It had felt too complicated and in his personal relationships he had always favoured simplicity. Even now he can’t be sure what his answer would have been had she not added, “I’m scared Albus, I don’t want to be alone tonight.” She’d turned away and stepped out of the room, almost before he’d realised what she had said and as soon as he had realised it had taken him only a few seconds to decide to go after her.

He’d caught up with her on the stairs, neither of them spoke, but he'd rested his palm against the small of her back and hoped that somehow she’d realised he was scared too. As they’d reached the top of the stairs he’d looked back over his shoulder and not been at all surprised to see Moody standing watching them, with an expression that screamed disapproval.

It was all too evidently going to be one of the nights when she beat him at chess. Such nights were fairly frequent occurrences, since she was by far the better strategist and certainly the more ruthless of the two of them. He’d always hated having to sacrifice his pieces – perhaps because it hit too close to home.

His mind wasn’t on the game tonight, fragments of his thoughts lay with Severus and his fate, but more than that he was remembering the cold light of a dawn many years ago, when he’d given up something important - for the good of the cause.

She’d been sleeping on her stomach, head buried in a pillow, bare shoulder tantalisingly visible above rumpled sheets. He hadn’t wanted to leave the warmth of the bed, but he’d known for hours that his next course of action was an unavoidable necessity.

What had passed between them didn’t matter, whatever they might have become in a different time or place was irrelevant – there was only what he knew had to be done. And it had to be done to protect her – but he hadn’t thought she would see it that way. Nothing he knew about her now, decades later, made him doubt that assessment.

Dressed, he had sat beside her on the bed, watching her sleep, terrified that he would wake her. Her hair was soft and as he felt it trickle through his fingertips he'd been assaulted by memories. Carefully he’d touched the back of her head and whispered, “legilimens.”

Her mental defences were raised even though she was asleep and he remembered being relieved that she had absorbed so much of his teaching. But he was accomplished at legilimency and he had known exactly what memories he was seeking. He’d found them easily enough, carefully separated the moments following their first kiss when she’d backed away from him, from the memories of what had come after.

He’d taken a breath, summoned all of his tattered courage and spoken what had turned out to be the last word he would say to her for almost a decade, “oblivate.”

At the time he had promised himself that he would have to remember for both of them. And, despite everything that had happened over the years, despite the people they had both become, he’d kept his promise. He still remembered. His spell ensured that she did not.

TBC

[Alesia]

I reviewed on ff.net but I will say it again - great!

[Jessabelle]

Wow, intense chapter. Update again soon.

[morgan72uk]

A/N - see Part 1 for Disclaimer etc.
Thanks for the reviews and the warm welcome to the Board - it's greatly appreciated.
Forgive me if it seems there is some Headmaster bashing in the next couple of chapters.

Repentance – part 5

He was brooding again – and it had affected his game. The black Queen had claimed victory far too easily and Minerva couldn’t help but think that for once it hadn’t been a fair fight. Perhaps they should have chosen a game with less emotional resonance – like exploding snap.

The castle slumbered around them as they faced each other across the now empty chessboard. But restlessness tugged at her, the need to be doing something, anything was hard to ignore. She had to squash the impulse to transform and dash around the corridors and staircases until she was tired enough to sleep. But one look at her companion told her that sleep wouldn’t be coming for some time.

She had never intended to get to know him so well, never planned to be so familiar with his moods that a quick glance was often enough to tell her what he was feeling. Years ago she had decided that this was some small compensation for seldom knowing what he was thinking and never being able to predict what he would do next.

Their friendship had developed slowly but surely – the week they had spent together had lain its foundations, but only when they had met again all those years later had they really started to become close. The attraction that had complicated the last moments of her training had died a natural death somewhere in the intervening decade. When they’d become reacquainted he’d given no indication that he was interested in anything more than a professional relationship.

In fact, in the first moment of their meeting she had seen his reaction to her and known he was cataloguing how much she had changed. He’d carefully kept his response to her under control after that – but she’d seen enough and she knew he would never see past her austere clothing, the heavy glasses and the severe bun that held her hair back from her face – even if she had wanted him to. She knew he would never look at her and not regret the change, blame himself for it. If she were lucky she would at least ensure that Severus did not share that element of her fate. He struck her as a young man who desperately needed someone to care about him, she was not sure that he would learn to live with the haunted look she sometimes saw in Albus’ eyes when he watched her.

She knew she wasn’t the woman he’d sent off to spy on Grindelwald, but she had learnt to live with the person who had emerged in her place. It was a miracle that Albus had stopped blaming himself sufficiently to become her friend – she had no right to expect more – and yet, she wasn’t someone who was easily satisfied with half measures. Making her decision she sat back in her chair and said quietly,

“There is nothing to be gained by regretting what had to be done.” He started at her words and his eyes were shot with pain when he met her gaze.

“Under the circumstances I don’t know how you can say that my dear.”
“This isn’t about me.” The expression on his face suggested that he thought otherwise.

“It’s generous of you to say that, but the truth is I’ve placed you in a position where you have no choice but to relive some extraordinarily painful memories.”

“It didn’t occur to you that I might be willing to suffer the discomfort if I thought it might help us to win? That the memories might be less painful if they could help someone else?”

“I didn’t dare hope for that much.” She sighed; they had never talked about this. At first because even though years had passed, mention of that time in her life had been painful for her. Later, as she had found herself again, it had simply been easier for them to leave the past alone. But now she realised that leaving the subject alone had been a mistake. If nothing else she should never have allowed him to wallow in guilt for so long. She should never have indulged his attempts to view her as damaged, to see her life as defined by her ghosts.

She was, above all, a practical woman and she had decided long ago that if she were to live with herself, find any measure of peace she would have to let go of the spectres that could so easily have haunted her. And she had done just that, not without pain, not without distress – but she had confronted her actions and accepted them. Now, it was clear that she should have forced Albus to do the same. She was his friend – she refused to spend a moment longer as one of his burdens.

“What do I have to do to convince you to stop seeing me as a victim? As your victim?” She mused – almost surprised that she had spoken out loud. “It was necessary, we both know that. I’m not sorry for what I did and I’m not sorry that I survived it. I don’t think I am the sort of person who could idly sit by while a war raged around me, especially not when I could do something to help.”

Her words seemed to have very little impact on him, he was still watching her with the same patient, sorrowful expression – it made her want to shake him. She stood up and leant against the fireplace instead, needing to put some distance between them.

“Albus – my life hasn’t been destroyed, it hasn’t been wasted. I have a job I love, teaching a subject that still fascinates me. The moment when one of my students makes a breakthrough in their learning still has the power to move me – even more so when they aren’t gifted but have earned the accomplishment through sheer hard work. I am Deputy Headmistress at a prestigious school, have the opportunity to consult with transfiguration masters from all over the world; I’ve written research papers and had them positively received. I have colleagues I respect, whose company I enjoy and I have friends, dear friends. What is it that you believe my time with Grindelwald robbed me of?”

“You aren’t married, you don’t have a family of your own.” She almost gasped as he spoke the words aloud. For all the intimacy of their friendship they were heading into deep waters now, this was an area they had both been careful not to venture into before.

“But I could have married, if I’d chosen to,” she said carefully, aware just how private her personal life had been over the years, that he had no way of knowing what she did when she was not at the school. “I’ve had relationships, I’ve refused two proposals – that I have chosen not to marry isn’t a reflection of what happened to me.”

“Isn’t it?” She hadn’t expected the challenge, certainly wasn’t prepared for the harsh edge to his voice. “It seems to me that someone who went through what you did might find it hard to trust others and as a consequence might very well hide behind barriers.” The tenuous grasp on her temper was rapidly unravelling now and she could feel herself starting to get angry. He was right – to some extent anyway – but she had learnt long ago that attack was the best form of defence – it was one of the lessons he had watched Alastor teach her.

“I might be cautions about who I allow to get close to me, but I am quite capable of intimacy. I’m not the one who holds people at arms length, who refuses to see others as equals.” She saw his wince of pain and knew she had gone too far, but for once she was not inclined to spare him. “None of this has anything to do with me, it’s all about your guilt. You are the one who sees my life as ruined, you also appear to believe I am incapable of having relationships – and you insist on treating me as a victim. I don’t need you to act as though the sight of me causes you pain Albus, I have faced my demons. I’m not the one who is a prisoner of the past!”

A long silence followed her words, until at last he said, in a voice hoarse with emotion, “it may be that I have behaved as you describe, but in my defence there are things you don’t know, couldn’t know.”

“Then tell me, explain to me. What damage could it do now?”

“It could destroy something I place great value in. One of the most important things in my life.” His voice and the weight of his gaze left her in no doubt about his meaning, but her head swam with confusion. They had strayed a great distance from the familiar ground of their friendship and she had no idea what to do or say next.

She was fortunate when an interruption meant that she did not have to decide
immediately.

TBC

[morgan72uk]

Repentance – part 6

“Professor!” A voice gasped her name from the fire and she had no difficulty in recognising who was calling for her. Severus Snape had returned from his assignation with Lord Voldemort – and even through the flames she could tell he looked terrible.

When they reached him Snape was slumped on the floor of the Room of Requirement. At the sight of him her quarrel with Albus was, if not forgotten, at least temporarily suspended.

“I came to you for help and you sent me back!” He lashed out furiously at his former Headmaster, “I wanted to stop torturing and killing and you’ve made me continue.”

“For the greater good,” Dumbledore reminded him gently, though he may as well have held his tongue.

“I don’t care about the greater good!”

“Well, unfortunately that is a luxury I can’t share.” As he spoke his eyes flicked momentarily in her direction and Minerva knew that his words were meant as much for her as for Snape – she just didn’t understand why he thought she needed the reminder.

“Tell me what happened,” she said briskly, trying to pull Severus’ focus back towards her, standing between the two men to break the tension.

“Attacks on muggles, the dark mark over their properties, about 10 different locations – designed to spread panic and fear.” Snape said dimly, hardly bothering to look up and, as he recited the names and locations she realised with a growing sense of despair that among the victims were the families of Hogwarts students.

“Headmaster – we should wake the students concerned – break the news to them ourselves.”

“Unfortunately it will have to wait, we aren’t supposed to know yet – we can’t risk anyone suspecting that we have a spy.”

“But…!”

“It will have to wait Professor McGonagall!” He had snapped at her, which was highly unusual – and he must have realised because he seemed to deflate a little as she continued to stare furiously at him, “let them sleep for a few more hours Minerva, what harm can it do?” She nodded, though it galled her to wait for the Ministry to notify them – she had not been impressed by their ability to break bad news to children so far. “I’ll go and try to make sure the task is left to us, will you come and find me when you are finished here?”

“Of course.” She watched him leave, not surprised by his departure but confused by his strange behaviour, by the things he had alluded to but not shared with her during their earlier discussion. It was a pertinent reminder that somehow the better she got to know him, the more mysteries she discovered.
But she couldn’t think about now. Instead she poured tea from the steaming set the room had apparently decided that they needed. Snape had not moved so, with a sigh, she carried the cups over to him and slid down at his side. They say together in silence until he buried his head in his hands, his words muffled, but distinguishable.

“I don’t know how I can stand it,” he said, “I couldn’t warn anyone, I had to go along, play my part. I don’t think I actually killed anyone – but that was luck. Eventually I will.”

“You have to accept that you aren’t there to save individual lives,” she said quietly, “there may be times when its worth the risk to try – but there will be many more times when to even make the attempt would be to risk exposure. You have to accept that you are there to help end the war – and that in the process there will be casualties.”

“Is that what you did?” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering all the moments when she had done nothing, sent no warning, allowed people to die.

“I didn’t participate in attacks – but I knew when they would happen, who would be targeted – and I couldn’t issue any warnings. It would have been too dangerous. I was there for a year and in that time I didn’t save a single life. It was the hardest thing to accept – it still is.”

“I can’t fathom what it would feel like to live this life for a year.” He took a sip of the tea and she thought to herself that if telling him about her experience was the price she was going to have to pay to get him through a war she believed would last much longer than a year, then she would gladly do so.

That in itself was a miracle. He had been the enemy just days ago, was still the enemy in many ways and yet she was going to use her darkest memories to save him. She wondered if Albus had realised that this was another way to put the past behind her – or if, blinded by his own guilt, he had not been able to see it in those terms.

“It’s surprising what you get used to. I suppose a year is a long time – but it took several months for me to attract Grindelwald’s attention. Even longer for our, relationship to develop to a point where he trusted me.”

“You were his lover?” She had never actually said it, though it had been implicit in every word she had uttered about her experiences. The actual confirmation was harder than she had expected, but there was no condemnation in the dark eyes that met her own. Probably he understood better than most people.

“Eventually.” When she had arrived at the fortress there had been younger, more beautiful women in evidence. But as Dumbledore had predicted their quarry had tired of their attentions rapidly – and he clearly hadn’t trusted any of them. It had taken her time to map out an approach that stood any chance of succeeding and, since her father had desired the outcome as much as she did – albeit for different reasons, she had his help and connivance. In a way it had been like a game of chess – just with far more at stake.

In the end her strategy had been simple, she had discovered the extensive library in the fortress and spent hours there. She had been drawn to the books she knew she would never find anywhere else, about dark magic – and Grindelwald’s curiosity had been engaged. He had taken to inviting her to discuss her reading material with him, they had spent hours sitting together, talking late into the night. If she hadn’t known that at the same time as debating with her he was planning the deaths of thousands and the destruction of everything she cared about, it might have been a pleasant experience.

Her natural reserve had worked in her favour. As they had spent more time together their conversation had slipped into more personal areas and she had recognised his surprise when she had turned out to be more, worldly, than he expected – her former professor had been right in that prediction as well. She had known that he wanted her long before they became lovers, the reticence that held him back was evidence that she would be more than a passing fancy – which was the plan after all.

“We became lovers after I’d been there for almost 6 months. After our first time together I stayed in a hot bath for two hours, trying to clean the places where he’d touched me. I couldn’t do it, of course.” After a while she had learnt that it wasn’t the sex that was destructive – but the intimacy. The worst times had been when he had made plans for their future, when he had told her that he loved her and she, stumbling and blushing had repeated the words back to him – all the time fighting the feeling that she was betraying something important. All the time knowing that she was making promises to a monster.

“So, what happened? How did you pass on information about their activities? Or did you have nothing to do with his defeat?”

“I was very selective about the reports I sent back to England. It was fortunate that very few people knew about my animagus form – which meant I could move around without being detected, as long as I was careful. One of Grindelwald’s closest advisors was captured – not entirely by accident, since I had sent back information about his mission. The idea was to get information from him by interrogation but there was an unintended consequence. The fortress was unplottable and protected by powerful wards, but when Grindelwald’s secret keeper was captured he needed to find a new one.”

Snape’s eyes met hers, understanding already blossoming in them – but he asked the question anyway.

“He made you his secret keeper?”

“And I betrayed him. The fortress was found, the wards broken, one winter’s night there was an attack, Professor Dumbledore duelled Grindelwald – and killed him. I am sure that part of the story was covered in history of magic and if you somehow failed to pay attention in those lessons then I believe the information can be found on the cards in chocolate frogs.”

“But not your part?”

“No, the records are sealed. Hardly anyone knows, it’s not something I casually discuss, I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way.”

“Professor Dumbledore has already ensured that I recognise the importance of protecting you and even if he had not – it would be extremely foolish of me to endanger one of the few people who can help me survive.”

“The headmaster can help you survive, he does care about your fate – you must believe that.” Her anger with Albus had not diminished but she couldn’t allow their personal battle to blind her to the fact that they were at war, that different rules applied. Gently she said, “if he cared less, he would find it easier to face you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, realising that the words applied equally, if not more so, to his behaviour towards her. She did not doubt that he cared, nor that he felt guilty about things she did not understand and yet still he faced her every day. There was no way they could continue like this, she had to see Albus; she had to understand what was going on.

TBC

[Alesia]

I reviewed and put a load of questions in my ff.net review, but I just wanted to say I really adore a plot with some depth, you have a really good one here. Thank you.

[Jessabelle]

I don't really know what to say about this chapter. I don't think that there is anything to say. It is an excellent chapter and the fact that I have been left with a loss for words is a good thing in this case. It is very rare that I have so little to say about something that I really like. Please post again soon!
- Jess

[morgan72uk]

A/N - yet more headmaster bashing I'm afraid.

Repentance – part 7

Dumbledore gazed into the fire – as though the leaping and flickering flames held the answer to his dilemma, which of course they did not. His pensieve sat in the middle of his desk – but he was seriously considering putting it away again. It had been so long, what good could it do to revisit this? Surely it would only bring more damage and recriminations?

He had alerted the Order to the attacks, using a few well-placed sources at the Ministry, which meant word would have reached the proper authorities by now. He would be sent more details soon – but, in the meantime, he was contemplating telling Minerva the truth.

Her words had stung him – made him question things he had viewed as certainties for years; everything he thought he knew about her seemed to be in tatters. When she’d told him that she’d had relationships, turned down proposals of marriage his stomach had lurched in a most alarming way. He’d realised that what he viewed as one the closest friendships of his life had great gaping holes in the middle. There was, it seemed a whole area of her life he knew nothing about. She was almost a mystery to him.

But that didn’t make it a good idea to tell her the truth about what had happened on that final night. In fact, it seemed to make it imperative that he kept the secret and concentrated on repairing the damage the guilt had already done. If he told her there was a very good chance she would never forgive him – but, if he did not, the rift between them would grow, he’d lose her anyway – it would just take longer.

“Headmaster?” He hadn’t heard her enter, but now she stood in the doorway to his office, waiting. He should perhaps have been offended by the use of his title, rather than his name – he knew it meant that she was still angry with him. But, actually the sombre gravity of the fact that he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts leant him a courage that he desperately needed.

“It shouldn’t be too much longer Minerva – then you can alert your colleagues. But, while we wait I need to discuss something else with you.”

“Of course.”

“Earlier this evening you said that I treat you as though you are a victim. I think you realise that for a long time I have felt guilty about what you endured while you were spying on Grindelwald. There are things that happened then that you don’t know about – things that might help you to understand my behaviour. I am prepared to show you, but you need to know that what you see will cause you anger and pain.”

“When I asked, you implied that it would damage something important – our friendship?”

“That is possible. So, the choice is yours, my dear. Do you want to know?”

“I think I have to.” It was the answer he had been expecting, but still he felt a tremor of emotion – things would not be the same now, they would never be the same again.
“I was afraid that would be your answer.” He gestured towards the pensieve and watched with something akin to helplessness as she leaned forward to view the memories he had placed there.

He knew exactly what she would see, how the scene would unfold – the only thing he did not know was how she would react. She would watch their younger selves kiss, watch the discussion that followed and their eventual progress upstairs to her bed. He’d omitted nothing; conscious that he had stolen the memories from her he’d wanted to make sure that he gave them back in their entirety. So, she would watch them make love, watch them cling together and whisper softly to one another before they fell asleep. And, she would watch him wake while she slept on - and oblivate her.

The room span alarmingly as Minerva stepped back from the pensieve. Albus reached out a hand to steady her, but she shrugged his grasp off and leant instead against the back of a chair. She took deep, steadying breaths, trying to banish the images she had just witnessed, and trying to make sense of the implications of his memories. The disbelief and confusion had been growing in her from the moment she had witnessed the end of their kiss all those years ago, from the moment his memories had diverged so dramatically from hers.

“How could you?” she hissed at last, her voice brittle and raspy.

“I had no choice, if Grindelwald had found those memories – realised we’d been intimate he’d have killed you, or used you to get to me.”

“He didn’t find the memories of my training.” Even as she spoke she knew there were substantial differences between the two sets of memories, knew that it would have taken more skill at occulmency than she possessed to keep the images of her night with Albus at bay while Grindelwald had been making love to her.

“I did what I felt was right Minerva; what had to be done, for your safety and the success of your mission.”

“And then kept the fact to yourself for twenty years.” He sighed, this was exactly the reaction he had feared from her – and he couldn’t blame her.

“When exactly should I have told you? After the war when you disappeared to hunt down the rest of his followers with Alastor? Should I have come to see you when you were teaching at Beaubaxtons? Or when you arrived here, even though practically the first thing you said to me was that you wanted to leave the war behind? Should I have dropped it into conversation over dinner, in front of the students and our colleagues? Would you have preferred I told you during a game of chess? Do you think I might have managed to beat you if I had?”

“Don’t joke about this!” When she closed her eyes all she could see was their bodies wrapped together, all she could think about was the way he’d touched her, the way his hands had tangled in her hair and how she’d known instinctively that he’d loved the feel of it on his skin. And, although she didn’t want to admit it the expression on his face when he had oblivated her was just as haunting as the images of their lovemaking. “If you’d really wanted to you would have found a way to tell me, found the right moment.”

“If I didn’t tell you it was because I knew it would ruin our friendship – and I didn’t want that to happen.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for this Albus, how can I?”

“It was to save your life.”

“And was that your decision to make? Did it ever occur to you that if you’d woken me and discussed the situation, I might have agreed? I might have allowed you to oblivate me?” She could see from his expression that such a thought had never crossed his mind and she shook her head, upset and angry by such a refusal to acknowledge that she’d had a right to be consulted. “You really do see us as lesser creatures, don’t you? Requiring your protection, your patronage.”

“That’s not the way I see things – you know me better than that.”

“I thought I did certainly, but it’s possible I was wrong. At least I understand why you’ve felt guilty all these years – but it doesn’t change the fact that I survived, that while my life might not be perfect it isn’t the ruined, damaged thing you see it as. You may not be able to accept the person I am now – but I have, I even like her a lot of the time.”

He bowed his head and she could see the misery in his eyes – knew she had been trying to cause him pain in exchange for the pain he had so recently caused her. The logical, rational voice telling her that she had to find a way to move on from this was a quiet one – swamped by powerful emotions, by the knowledge that once; if only for a night, he had wanted her.

Whatever she would have said next was lost in a screech from an owl and the insistent tapping of it’s beak against the window. Dumbledore moved slowly, opening the window and retrieving the message. When he looked back at her she knew the interminable night had not yet ended.

“These are the confirmation of casualties from tonight’s attacks. You should wake the other teachers and notify the students affected. Some will be reunited with their families in the next few hours, but it may take longer for some of the others and of course there will be a few who have no one to come to comfort them tonight. It might be best if they spend the remainder of their time in the hospital wing.”

“Of course headmaster.” She was grateful for his professional tone, but she wasn’t sure how for long she would be able to emulate it – the events of the evening had just been too tumultuous. But there were students to think about; those that she was just about to break devastating news to and those who would discover what had happened to their classmates in the morning. They had to come first; her own problems would wait until she could contemplate them in private.

“Minerva,” she paused at the door, his voice calling her back. Albus looked old and tired she realised – but, while on other occasions this would have caused her to be solicitous for his welfare, tonight she merely waited. “I want you to know, I am sorry.”

“Are you sorry that we were lovers, that you robbed me of the memories or that you waited so long to tell me?” She caught the flash of anger in his eyes and was maliciously glad she had been able to provoke such a response from him.

“I’ll never be sorry that we spent that night together.” It wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting and another of Alastor’s lessons saved her from having to find an answer. Good strategists recognise that sometimes the only thing to do is to make a tactical retreat – so that was what she did. Turning away from him once more, she left without a backward glance.

TBC

[Alesia]

as always, it rocks.

I said it on ff.net I will say it here, I can't believe he actually found the guts to show her.

Oh, only thing wouldn't it be 30 years on not 20? (1945 to 1975) Or are you counting the 20 as her time at Hogwarts?

[morgan72uk]

Good point - I guess I meant the time at Hogwarts. Honestly, 20 years just sounded better then thirty years.

[LadyJolly]

whoa that ...I really haven't quite been following the story but now I am going to!! What a mess though I could see Albus' reason to doing what he did but still he could have talk to her. Anyways hope to read more soon.

Lady Jolly

[morgan72uk]

A/N - thanks for the reviews - I really appreciate them!

Repentance – part 8

The strained atmosphere surrounding the Headmaster and his Deputy was a matter of discussion at Hogwarts over the weeks that followed. Numerous theories were offered to explain the coolness between them, with many observers attributing the rift to the arrival of Severus Snape as junior potions master. Anyone who knew her well felt sure that Minerva would object strenuously to the presence of such a person within the school – let alone with a teaching position.

If those who understood more of what went on in the castle thought there might be a personal element at play, then they kept that opinion to themselves and the two people in question politely, but determinedly, rebuffed all attempts to discuss the subject. Slowly but surely everyone adjusted to the new situation, to the entirely professional but distant relationship between the school’s two most senior staff. Except, though it was carefully hidden, the Headmaster and his Deputy were both thoroughly miserable.

Minerva wasn’t sleeping well. Her dreams were filled with tangled, confused images; they flickered between two sets of memories before veering into darker realms, in her nightmares other aspects of her friendship with Albus were betrayals.

She had taken to waking in the cold light of dawn, sipping scalding hot tea as she watched the mist creep across the grounds. And, the truth was, in those hours her thoughts dwelt more in the past than in the present.

When the wards around Grindelwald’s fortress had fallen she had been on the way to her bed-chamber. She hadn’t known exactly when the information she had sent would be used so it was pure luck that she wasn’t with Grindelwald at the time. She’d had no doubt as soon as the attack began he would know who had betrayed him. For days she had lived with the knowledge that if he were to realise he would kill her - and enjoy causing her immense pain along the way.

The fight to take the castle was brief but brutal. She’d watched it from the shadows, her animagus form making it possible for her to stay out of sight. She’d watched the people she’d lived with for the last year fall, hopelessly outnumbered by the aurors who poured in. Carefully she had made her way through the long, dark passageways, skirting skirmishes, keeping out of trouble, heading inexorably towards Grindelwald’s personal quarters. After everything she had been through the worst possible outcome would be for him to escape – and if no one else could prevent that, then she was determined to try.

But she didn’t make it that far. Deep into the fortress, gnarled hands snatched her up and her initial impulse to scratch and hiss receded as soon as she had realised that she recognised the scent of the man who held her. Alastor.

She’d transformed back and made herself resist the temptation to fling herself into his arms. She’d thought she had seen a flicker of relief in his eyes – but if it had been there it vanished immediately.

“I’ve been searching for you,” he said gruffly, “we need to get out of here.” She had no plans to argue, but before she could respond the very walls seemed to tremble around them. Alastor grabbed her hand and started dragging her after him.

“What’s happening?”

“Albus has gone after Grindelwald,” there was another thunderous explosion, plaster and masonry had showered them as they passed. “It seems he’s found him.”

“We can’t just leave him.” She’d tried to stop, tried to go back but Alastor had been stronger.

“This is the way it was planned, the way it has to be. Albus knows what he’s doing.” An expression she didn’t recognise crossed his face.

“What?”

“Since we got word that you were Grindelwald’s secret keeper, that we would be able to breach the wards he’s been like a man possessed. He made me promise to get you out if it was the last thing I did and I have no intention of it turning out to be.”

The next hours had always remained a blur. Alastor had managed to spirit her away to a Ministry safe-house and it had been there, in the early hours of the morning that she had received word that Grindelwald was dead and that Albus barely lived. But before she could really process that information, with the wizarding world’s celebrations still ringing in her ears, she had descended into hell.

Alastor lost control of the situation almost immediately – and politics took over. Her de-briefing had lasted for days and at times it felt that she was the one who was being accused. But that had barely been the start. Within days it became clear that justice was to be metered out swiftly to Grindelwald’s allies and supporters and she was to be the prosecution’s star witness. With Albus still unconscious and Alastor being kept away from her there was no one to help, no one to turn to.

Her testimony before a closed session of the wizengamot remained one of the most lengthy on record, even decades later. It left her exhausted and burdened by the knowledge that her evidence had sent men and women to their deaths. She had told the truth, but there was something indecent about the haste with which their trials were conducted and she hated being a party to it. The Ministry at least had the sense to protect her, she was cross-examined for days but her identity was never revealed. Although some of the accused may very well have put the pieces together – and realised who had been the spy in their midst. She had lived under guard, secluded from the world while the trials went on. And the worst came at the end when she had to give evidence against her own father.

It was impossible not to remember Albus’ warning from so many months ago, impossible not to feel as though she were betraying her own flesh and blood – even though no one would doubt that her father had betrayed her first. But there was no respite, no escape and no doubt that he knew exactly what she had done. There was no touching death bed scene, no last minute reconciliation, no forgiveness. He went to his grave cursing her, raving to the dark Lord to punish his worthless child.

Under the circumstances she had done the only thing she could, turned to the only group of people who could protect her. Her offer to the Ministry to help track down the rest of Grindelwald’s followers was immediately accepted. Before the breath had even left her father’s body she and Alastor were in south America seeking renegade wizards. Weeks later when Albus regained consciousness they were deep under cover – and there was nothing he could have said or done anyway.

That time in her life is not one she cares to dwell upon. But she and Alastor had made an effective and deadly team, tracking their quarry halfway across the globe, taking prisoners – some of the time. Sick of herself, body and soul, her life had been of very little value to her then and on more occasions than she wanted to think about, it had only been Alastor’s incessant paranoia that kept them both alive.

Finally, the trails had run cold, the world had moved on and she had caught her breath for long enough to recognise she had no idea who she was or what she was doing. She had dragged herself home to Scotland, buried herself in the crumbling family estate and could easily have rotted away there with no one any the wiser – except that one day she had found her unfinished transfiguration thesis.

It would be fair to say that losing herself in academia, in the study of complex subjects, saved her. By the time she had completed her Masters she had taken her first, tentative steps away from her old life. She had started to believe that she would survive and she had gained the first measure of acceptance of her actions, the first measure of peace.

She wasn’t the only person whose life had been shattered by the war. She had studied with those who had barely survived themselves; who had lost family members, partners, children and beside them she had not appeared abnormally damaged. Her reserve and reticence was scarcely remarked upon – all anyone cared about was her mind. It was the first time for many years that she had remembered that once she had been a brilliant scholar.

On her graduation it had been Beauxbatons who had claimed their alumni and given her an opportunity to learn to teach. Her sojourn there had been uncomfortable at times; her old school had been dealing with its own wounds, coming to terms with its own acts of betrayal and too many people there remembered who her father had been and questioned her loyalties. But she had discovered that she could teach and she had learnt to keep people at arms length, until she was sure they could be trusted.

Her tea had long since cooled and she sighed as she cast it aside. As she did a movement outside caught her attention and she watched as a familiar figure, one she’d recognise anywhere, emerged from the early morning mist. Even from this distance, safely tucked away in her tower, she could tell that Albus was deep in thought and that his thoughts were neither happy nor comfortable. She knew him too well not to acknowledge that she was at least part of the reason for his disquiet.

There had been times over the years, mostly in out of the way places where her life had seemed a fragile, insubstantial thing, when she had greeted the dawn with memories of the kiss they had shared. For a long time it had seemed like the last moment in her life that hadn't been tarnished – and for that reason it had always been precious. Was it any less precious now she knew there was more to the memory?

He had been her friend for 20 years; there was no one in her life she trusted more. Was she really going to let that mean nothing, throw it all away? Was she going to punish him for telling her the truth and just conveniently forget about the fact that he had said he would never be sorry for their stolen night? Was she going to allow his guilt to continue on its destructive course?

The one thing she was sure of, perhaps the only thing she was sure of, was that this time it was to be her choice. She had insight enough to realise that Albus had been distant and remote over the last couple of weeks because he was giving her the power to make the next move. If she did nothing he would not force her hand, he wouldn’t cause a scene or demand her forgiveness. This was his way of acknowledging that he had denied her the opportunity to make the decision last time – of not making the same mistake twice.

The figure that had been carefully walking around the lake suddenly stopped and turning Albus looked straight up at her window – as though he could tell she was watching him, as though he knew what she was thinking about. She couldn’t move, could do nothing to interrupt the moment and the wave of power that seemed to flow between them. Frozen in place, she could only watch, fearful that the intensity would break the glass that separated them. And then suddenly, in as little time as it took to blink, it was over. He had resumed his walk once more, heading in an entirely different direction. She closed her eyes – trying not to think that her heart was hammering in her chest. This couldn’t go on. Someone had to do something. She had to do something.

TBC

[gingerkitten]

Please continue! This is such a powerful story. I'm enjoying it immensely. Great plot idea!

[Sensiblyquirky]

I'm sorry I haven't reviewed this until now, but you write extremely well. I like this story, and I hope Albus and Minerva can patch up their relationship! Don't keep us waiting too long.

Christy

[morgan72uk]

A/N - thank you for the comments, I appreciate them.

Repentance – part 9

He was indescribably weary; his body and his mind longed for rest – but even in sleep there was precious little peace to be had. The Ministry, The Order, The School – they all demanded his attention; leaving him certain that none of them were getting the amount of his time they needed. It had been years since there had been anything at all left over for him.

His friendship with Minerva had been his respite and his solace. With it now lying in tatters he was bereft of the one thing he had treasured – and he had no one to blame but himself. He had given her the power to determine their future and whatever happened he would respect her decision. He could only hope that she realised what it had cost him to place his peace of mind in her hands.

But he was not a saint and these past, lonely weeks his curiosity had got the better of him. Though it was far too late in the day, he had made discrete enquiries into Minerva’s private life. His enquiries had borne fruit and he was relatively certain of the identities of the men who had wanted to marry her. They were both well-known, both distinguished in their respective fields and both younger than he by many years. He was astonished that she had turned down their proposals and bewildered that both of the relationships had passed him by – not least since there had been no secrecy; just the discretion he had come to expect from his Deputy.

Unfortunately the source of his information was Alastor Moody and his old friend and colleague was far too astute not to put two and two together. It had taken Alastor no time at all to demand the whole story and having heard it; his verdict was that Albus was an idiot. There were times when Albus feared he was right.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Alastor had been all too blunt as to why Minerva’s social life had failed to attract his notice for all these years. “Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’ve always believed that because you caused the damage, only you can repair it. You’ve never really accepted that she’s OK - because she didn’t come running to you to put her back together again. Well, if you know anything at all about Minerva, you know that she could never have allowed that to happen. She would never have come anywhere near you unless she thought she was at least mostly healed.”

Alastor’s verdict on the whole situation had been particularly damning, “you’re both as bad as each other – too much pride by half.” Which would have been insufferable – if Albus hadn’t come to the uncomfortable realisation that every single word he’d uttered was true.

It was impossible not to remember her return to Hogwarts. To recall how Headmaster Dippet had been desperate to find a suitable replacement for their DADA teacher – who had been suddenly taken ill just a few months into the new school year. Someone from Beauxbatons had suggested Minerva and Armando had been surprisingly reluctant to consider her a viable candidate. Albus had not been convinced by his excuse that he was concerned by her relative youth and finally he had persuaded the Headmaster to confess that he was worried by who her father had been, by his connection to Grindelwald.

Once he knew what the problem was it was relatively easy to find a solution. Albus had, discretely, ensured Alastor was able to put the headmaster’s mind at rest – without revealing anything about what Minerva had done during the war. And after that there had been no resistance. In fact, Armando had been astute enough to realise that if one of the Ministry’s top aurors was prepared to vouch for her, then Minerva’s war record must have been something very special indeed.

Only when the battle was won, only when the appointment – temporary at first - had been offered and accepted did he stop to think about what it would mean for him to have Minerva at Hogwarts.

For days he had vacillated between excitement and despondency. At times he had been almost giddy at the thought of being able to see her again, to get to know her as a colleague without the shadow of war between them. But then, inevitably he would remember what had happened, all that she had been through – and he would wonder if she would ever be able to look at him and not be reminded of Grindelwald, her father and that terrible, dark time.

In his more positive moods he had intended to tell her the truth about their last night. He wouldn’t blurt it out, like a gibbering fool, he would find an appropriate way to share the memory, to ask for her forgiveness. But, when he wasn’t feeling so optimistic he had wondered if it wouldn’t be better to leave the past buried. It had been a decade after all – in all likelihood they had both changed; war, death, destruction and a lengthy separation had surely burned their attraction away.

In the end it had been Minerva herself who had determined his course. When she’d stepped out of the carriage in front of the school, she had looked around her – as though she was checking the reality against her recollections, finally her gaze had come to rest upon the small group of teachers waiting to welcome her. It was as well that the Headmaster had taken over the job of introductions – because for a long, lovely moment speech had been beyond Albus and all he could think about were his memories of the warmth of her skin and the silkiness of the hair that was now neatly contained in a bun.

He had just about recovered when Armando stopped before him and said, “I’m sure you remember Professor Dumbledore from your own school days.” He could have cursed his superior for the oh so untimely reminder of their massive age difference. But his irritation had faded when he looked at her – the additional years suited her, lending her a confidence that promised to mature into elegance. She was too pale, but what struck him most of all was the wariness in her eyes. He’d almost gasped as the guilt hit him like a physical blow – he had helped do this to her. But Minerva had looked back at him, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together in a thin line, as though she knew only too well what he had been thinking. Her voice had been clipped as she said,

“Of course, it’s good to see you again Professor.”

In the weeks that followed it became clear that Minerva had developed a protective shell that kept most people at arms length. Her new colleagues were favourably impressed with her teaching skills, particularly her ability to quell a particularly challenging 7th year class. But they had also learnt that she was reserved and did not easily reciprocate their friendly overtures. She was perfectly polite, but somewhat distant and while the young girl Albus remembered from her year at the school had never been exactly gregarious she had certainly been more social than she was now. The change was another of the things he had held himself responsible for.

She’d loosened up considerably over the years – in fact, she’d started to relax during her first year back at the school – as though Hogwarts had worked some magic of its own on her. Her humour was somewhat spiky, her teaching manner strict but fair and at times her colleagues and even some students had been privileged to see beyond the aloof mask she presented to the world. He had learnt that she was a loyal and implacable ally; albeit with a temper that once loosed, was fearsome to behold. Her logical, controlled approach to problem solving was a valuable contrast to the workings of his own mind and there were very few people he listened to with as much attention and respect.

Until recently they had never spoken of the war, the only time they had come close to mentioning it was a few weeks after her return, when he had tentatively raised the subject, only to have her tell him firmly that she had no interest in discussing the past. Her expression had been forbidding and looking at her he had decided that it was more important to be her friend than to relive old memories that were surely better left buried. So he had let it go, and for years he had given no thought to telling her the truth. Slowly they had become friends, she had let down the protective walls she surrounded herself with and let him get close. But the shadows had lingered, waiting to engulf them – preventing their friendship from ever developing into something more.

He was roused from his meditations by a knock at his office door – a knock he recognised. Expecting that only a recalcitrant student would have brought his Deputy to his door, he bid her enter and was surprised when she was alone.

“Severus has been summoned again,” she announced bluntly, hardly needing to point out that this would in all likelihood herald an attack of some sort. He looked towards the fire, making it roar and she stretched her hands out before it gratefully. “I’m worried about him Albus. I’m worried what will happen if he is made to harm someone – and I’m worried about how desperate he is to prove he really is on our side.”

“My dear we have to trust in his loyalty, his judgement and what we have taught him in the last weeks.” He paused for a moment, and glancing down at his hands he added quietly, “it’s always the hardest part, to watch someone go into danger, knowing there is no way they can escape harm.”

There was a long silence until she said, “is that why you weren’t there that last morning, why you didn’t say goodbye to me?” He was surprised by her question, but there was no doubt that she deserved a truthful answer.

“I was a coward – I couldn’t face you knowing what I’d done, even if you didn’t remember, I couldn’t face the thought of what you were going to, who you were going to.” She didn’t reply, didn’t even look at him, her gaze locked on the leaping and twisting flames. “I’ve regretted it ever since. That whole year, you were never far from my thoughts.”

“I don’t doubt that. I thought of you often too.” The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the familiar, drowsy silences that followed their chess matches, or their fireside chats.

“Minerva, there’s something I should tell you.” He winced inwardly as he saw her shoulders stiffen and wished he had phrased his remark differently. “It’s not a secret, it’s just something I’ve never spoken of - to anyone.” She still looked wary, but he could see the curiosity in her eyes as well. “When we stormed the fortress, when I found Grindelwald, I wasn’t sure I would survive our dual. He was as strong as I was; his knowledge of magic was as extensive as my own. I started to think that the only chance to defeat him would be to bring the walls down around us. But, as we duelled our thoughts became less guarded – and we both took advantage of that, each looking for a weakness in the other. His thoughts were filled of you, he didn’t want to believe that you had betrayed him, he was certain that you loved him. I reacted instinctively, thinking of our night together, of my fears for you – even though I’d made Alastor promise to find you and get you to safety. He read my mind, my feelings and for the first moment his concentration slipped, it was the opening I’d been looking for. I didn’t want to kill him.”

“He wouldn’t have shown you the same consideration,” she said her voice husky with emotion. When she turned towards him he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’m glad,” she said savagely, the tears spilling forth, “I’m glad he knew about us before he died, I’m glad he realised that I never loved him, that I was the one who betrayed him. As angry as I am with you for what you did, if our night together saved your life, I won’t be sorry that it happened.”

“Minerva,” now it was his voice that was husky, her words and her emotions drawing him to her side. Her reached out to touch her, fully intending to gather her into his arms and beg her forgiveness. But the fire hissed and flared and suddenly there was a face within the flames.

“Headmaster!” Severus’ voice was a hoarse whisper and even as he spoke he glanced back over his shoulder as though he expected to be interrupted at any second. “He’s launching an attack on some of the aurors, the Longbottoms will be targeted – I don’t know who else. Help them.” He was gone almost at once, leaving the two inhabitants of the room to stare at the fire in dazed shock. Albus pulled himself together almost at once,

“I must go.”

He was already reaching for the floo powder when she said, “it could be a trap.”

“You don’t believe that my dear.”

“I don’t want to believe it – but it’s possible. This whole situation with Severus could be an elaborate scheme, just to get to you. He,” her voice shook and when normally he’d sigh at her refusal to speak Voldemort’s name this time he let her weakness pass. “He knows you wouldn’t turn someone away if they were trying to break free of the dark, just as he knows that if you learnt of an attack on a member of the Order you’d go to their aid.”

He didn’t want to heed her warning – but recent events had reminded him that he was far from infallible. He didn’t often make mistakes in his judgements about others, but when he did the consequences were generally serious. His relationship with the woman standing before him was proof enough of that.

“Frank and Alice are in danger, what would you have me do?”

“I’ll alert some of the others – just in case the Longbottoms aren’t the only ones under attack.” He couldn’t quite believe it when she crossed to his side and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “Just take care – please?”

Pulling his mind away from the way her lips had felt against his cheek with some difficulty he nodded and then taking a handful of powder threw it into the fire. The last thing he saw before he disappeared into the flames was Minerva’s face. The fear and worry in her eyes made him determined that he would return to her, that although their almost too intense conversation had been interrupted, it definitely wasn’t finished.

TBC

[Jessabelle]

Absolutely wonderful. I hope you update very quckily or I am afraid I may never get anything I need to accomplished in the next few days! Your an amazing writter. The dialogue and emotiongs all played out perfectly.
- Jess

[maritelske]

Wow. This was quite an intense chapter. I enjoyed your reasoning behind Grindelwald's death - it was a fantastic explanation and very moving. Their discussion was explosive and I was sorry that it was cut off so soon, but you wrote it so beautifully - I was sucked in from the moment 'go'.

Thankyou for continuing with this so soon - I am enjoying it greatly.

[Sensiblyquirky]

Oh I can't wait for Albus to come back. Great job with the story, and update soon.

Christy

[morgan72uk]

A/N - well, this is the end of the road for this story. I do have an Epilogue in the back of my mind - but it may never see the light of day. Thanks for the reviews.

Oh yes - and in the prophecy (which in the story hasn't been made yet) the baby with the power to destroy blah blah blah was to be born to a set a parents who had defied him three times. That could apply to either the Potters or the Longbotoms - so I'm just counting this as one of those three times.

Repentance – part 10

The moment Albus vanished from the flames she wanted to call him back, to finish the conversation that was twenty, perhaps even thirty years overdue. But that wasn’t possible and instead Minerva bustled around, all the time telling herself that as long as there were tasks that demanded her attention she would be fine. The alert system was one she’d set up herself and it involved contacting two members of the Order, who would then, in turn, alert another two. It was based onthe slight fiction that they didn’t know the identity of all the other members of the Order of the Phoenix – but the method had served them well to date.

But, once that was done it became harder to ignore the dark thoughts swirling around her. She wanted desperately to trust Severus, to believe that he was on their side. But, there was no escaping the fact that this situation could easily be a trap, designed to deliver to Voldemort the one wizard he had always feared. And, if it wasn’t a trap, then her concerns about Severus’ state of mind had been justified and he had risked everything to warn them. In that case they would have to hope that his determination to prove that he had changed hadn’t led to his role as a spy being exposed.

It was difficult to sit and wait, knowing that the Order was leaping into action. But her role had always been an internal one, had always involved planning and strategising – and after all someone needed to be here, watching over the school.

She batted away her worst fears about what could happen to Albus. Reminding herself sternly that he was more than capable of taking care of himself, of fighting off a whole host of Death Eaters if he needed to. She wasn’t going to sit and fret about what they hadn’t said to each other, what hadn’t been resolved. It was enough that she had warned him, that they hadn’t parted on the worst of terms.

He would return; they would face the past. She believed that now, with a fervency that surprised her. But after all, what else could they do? If their friendship meant anything there had to be a way to move past what had happened all those years ago. And their friendship did matter; it was a complicated entity, full of mysteries and things that had remained unspoken for years. She could, she supposed change that now. The barriers between them were down and only they could rebuild them, shape them into something different – if that was what they both wanted.

She needed to keep herself busy, which made it extremely fortunate that she had dinner and a detention to oversee, as well as the inevitable marking. There was nothing more likely to keep her fear at bay than some 5th Year transfiguration essays.

The detention had been served, the offenders dismissed and she had returned to her study to complete the marking. The school grew still and silent around her, until finally she pushed away the last scroll and rising to her feet, stretched. As her muscles protested the movement she realised that it was much later that she’d thought. It had been hours since Albus had left, where was he and why hadn’t she heard anything?

A swift tour of the corridors around Gryffindor tower resulted in more than one student being caught where they shouldn’t be at this hour. She docked a few points, gave out yet more detentions and marvelled once more at the ability of teenagers to believe that their romantic entanglements were the most important things in the world. Usually it amused her; usually she could shrug off catching her students in heated clinches. But they were at war and her students were both targets and future combatants. The school rules had to be obeyed of course, yet always there was the lingering fear that some of these young people might not have years to fall in love, to explore their feelings. And beyond that fear was a deep loneliness of her own, and the question she so studiously avoided asking herself most of the time - who cared if she lived or died?

She whispered the password outside the headmaster’s study – and almost smiled when she realised that her feet had provided an answer to the question she had not wanted to ask. The door yielded to her, but as she had expected the room was dark and empty - no Fawkes on his perch, no Headmaster behind his desk. She curled into a chair and watched the flames slip into embers.

She wasn’t someone who found it easy to scrutinise her feelings. For a very long time she had lived only in the present. The past had remained a place too painful to return to and the future had been too remote and complicated. The young woman who had sent her own father to his death was not at all sure she had any right to the rest of her life.

Even when she had returned to Hogwarts, when the castle’s magic had slipped around her like a warm cloak, she had still not quite believed. Still she had lived each day waiting for the blow to fall. It had been years before she realised that she was looking forward, that she was no longer tensed, waiting for the worst to happen. And it wasn’t just the castle, or the school, which had helped her to recover. She didn’t know whether she would ever be able to tell him, but Albus’ kindness, his patience and his friendship had been at the cornerstone of her recovery.

When they had met again after so many years she had been certain that what she had seen in his eyes was an acknowledgement of the changes in her, changes that a man who had once been attracted to her would never have viewed as positive. She had dismissed his attempts to talk about the past and deliberately held him at arms length. But, she’d reckoned without his determination, his cunning and his charm. By the time the Headmaster offered her a permanent contract at the end of the school year their friendship was established. Now, years later, the simple truth was she was miserable without him.

All day she had been trying to recall a moment between them from years ago. It had lingered around the edges of her memory, just out of reach. But now, stillness and silence summoned it at last from the depths of the past.

She’d stood in front of the steps of the school and tried to pay attention as the Headmaster introduced her to the teachers who had gathered in the smattering of winter sunshine to greet her. But Armando Dippett’s voice was a blur; the names and subjects had made no impression on her. One face, one pair of eyes had driven away everything else. And now she knew her response to him that morning had been her body remembering the intimacy her mind had been made to forget. Now she knew the guilt in his eyes for all these years was because the last time he’d seen her he had stolen a memory, a memory so powerful if had helped to destroy a dark wizard.

“Albus!” The fire flared into life and, almost as though she had summoned him, an endearingly familiar figure unfolded himself from within the flames and brushed the ashes from his robes.

“I hoped you’d be here,” he said softly. Whatever either of them would have said next was lost when she flicked her wand towards some candles to dispel the gloom, and caught sight of him.

“You’re exhausted!” His face was gaunt, his eyes almost lifeless and though he tried to pull himself up she could tell that the burden he carried was too much for him.

“I’m,” he swayed alarmingly and she took his arm and helped him to sit before he could complete the sentence. She summoned a house elf and requested tea and sandwiches and was alarmed when he sat in silence and let her take control. She pressed the teacup into his hand and almost shivered herself when she realised how cold he was. But he drank the tea and picked at a sandwich; his face gained a little colour and finally he sat back in his chair and sounding a lot more like himself he said,

“Thank you my dear. I’m sorry if I worried you. I haven’t been sleeping well and tonight took more out of me than I imagined. There were a series of attacks, on aurors and on Order members.”

“The Longbottoms?” She asked, curiosity bubbling within her, now that she knew he was well.

“Are both fine, Severus’ warning was most timely. We fought off the Death Eater attack; others were not so fortunate.” He went on to list other attacks, more lives taken. Among the fallen were those she had taught, even more of them had been his pupils and she wondered how he could bear it, how either of them could.

“Severus has not returned,” she ventured at last. “Do you think that means he has been caught?”

“Only time will tell. He needed to prove to us, to himself, that he had changed Minerva. Don’t be too hard on the boy.”

“I know he felt he had a point to prove, but he is a spy, he must learn that no one is ever going to thank him for what he does, no one is ever going to recognise him as a hero and laud his actions. The only goal that matters is the defeat of our enemy. That is what he has to dedicate himself to, otherwise his life will be forfeit.” He was silent for a long moment, his gaze resting on her until she felt uncomfortable. Just as she was about to speak he stood and crossed to the windows. Gazing out across the moonlit grounds he said,

“I hate war. I hate feeling as though everything and everyone I care about is a commodity. I hate waking up and wondering which person I will be called on to sacrifice next. I don’t know if we can beat him Minerva, he is getting stronger all the time – and we are barely hanging on. I sit here in my ivory tower and send people off into danger, off to their deaths – and I tell myself that it has to be done, that it is for the greater good. But all the time I wonder, who am I to decide?”

“You take too much upon yourself – as usual.” She reached his side without really being aware that she had moved, “people fight for the world they love, to protect those they love. You don’t force them; you set them an example. We chose for ourselves to follow you.”

“Did you know that Alice Longbottom is expecting a child?” He said at last, and though in many ways it seemed a change of subject – she knew that it was not.

“No, I didn’t. But they have been trying for so long – they must be pleased. She and Lilly will be able to compare pregnancies. I had an owl from her two days ago saying that her morning sickness is terrible.” She tried to lighten her tone, tried to bring him back from the darkness that seemed to emanate from him in waves. But when next he spoke she knew she had not succeeded.

“I don’t know how can they bring children into this world.”

“Because they know that if we stop living then he has won already. And, it is a lesson we should learn from them Albus.” The physical distance between them was small, but still it took all her courage to reach out and take his hand in hers. “It’s time you and I buried the past, really buried it, not shoved it aside as I have been trying to do all these years. You were going to tell me, weren’t you? When I first came back to Hogwarts? You wanted to talk about the war – but I wouldn’t let you.”

“You put up such walls, as though you expected every one of us to look at you and judge you – when in fact all I wanted to do was tell you how I admired your bravery.”

“You scaled my walls Albus Dumbledore – every one of them – no matter how high I built them, always you found a way to surmount them.”

“Except the one that really mattered,” he replied with more than a hint of melancholy in his voice. She tightened her hold on his hand, squeezing until he looked down at her, rather than across the darkened grounds.

“It seems, Headmaster,” she began, refusing to meet his eyes and lapsing into a dry, rather disapproving tone, “that even the wall of which you speak fell in the face of your onslaught. Even now it is little more than rubble – it has been for many years.”

Time stopped. There was not a sound. Even the castle seemed to hold its breath around them. At last he let go of her hand and touched her cheek. His fingers, she noticed, were shaking.

“Are you sure?” He breathed.

“I’m terrified,” she replied, knowing that it wasn’t an answer. “Nothing makes sense, my feelings are disturbingly beyond my control. And at the centre of all the chaos is you, always you.” His lips curved up into a smile, his eyes twinkled and the hand that had been at her cheek dropped to her waist, pulling her close.

“You sound so exasperated about it.” His voice was positively gleeful and if she hadn’t been struggling to control the wave of emotions that overtook her at his touch she would, probably, have hexed him.

“Albus Dumbledore you truly have no idea how annoying you are.” His grasp on her tightened fractionally – as though he was still afraid she would push him away. But she had no intention of moving from the warmth of his arms and, instead almost imperceptibly she relaxed into the embrace, her back moulding into his chest, her head leaning back until it rested against him.

A very long time passed – and still neither of them spoke. The mood shifted, the giddiness leaving as suddenly as it had come, in its place was fear, a consciousness of the shadows that surrounded them and the feelings they had barely confessed to Feelings they both knew were hostages to fortune.

“I’m afraid we’ll lose.” The words were barely a whisper and they echoed his sentiments from earlier – although this time it was Minerva who spoke. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”

“Never again,” came his reply – and though she knew he had only assuaged one half of her fears, for now it was enough. He couldn’t promise that they would win, he couldn’t promise that the darkness would be held at bay. He could only promise for himself – promise that whatever came of their friendship and all of the beautiful mysteries that lay beyond it, she would not ever lose him again.

And so they stood, together, waiting for the dawn.

The End

[Jessabelle]

Beautiful. I really liked the ending. It was very believable and that's what I love about this whole story. I would really enjoy to see an epilogue, but if not than this story is more then enough. Thank-you so much for this fic!
- Jess

[Sensiblyquirky]

Beautiful end. You did such a fine job with this story, but I do hope there is an epilogue. Could I ask for some kissing or something in the epilogue???

Hoping you write more soon,

Christy