Don't Need the Sunshine

[tanja]

you asked for opinions, so here is mine: not good, but brilliant !!! can´t wait for the next chapter.

[furandfeathers]

This story is sooo good! I do hope that Albus realizes what he's doing though, and makes everything all right.

Great job!
*L

[jayejaye]

As I said on ff.net you are the QUEEN of angst and drama. The intensity of your writing never fails to amaze me. I like Albus' frailty in this, I just hope that his friendship with Minerva will survive. The thing with her professor came out of left field, you sure do torture our Min..but the little flashbacks read really well and background to her caracter is a bonus in any fic. Can't wait for the next chapter. Well done as ever hon... :-)

[Trulyamused]

Terrific chapter. Ripe with emotion.

Well done.

Truly

[MinnieQuill]

I do not torture Min...just ignore...all right I do torture Min. The Ancient Rune Professor thing was a random thought I came up with at 3 am one night so...well...yeah.
Glad you're liking it.
The next installment will be here eventually.

[lemonygingersnaps]

This is a brilliant piece - keep it up!

[McGonagallsGirl]

Wonderful. I love where you took it, after the bit you sent me to read over.
The Albus in this fic is not the Albus we know and love, and I hope you plan on returning him to us soon.
It feels like Minerva is setting herself up for heartache, the way she's playing these games with Albus.

Waiting on the edge of my seat! Thanks for updating.
----McgonagallsGirl

[gmshed]

I just realised I was holding my breath. This fic is simply superb. Thank you so much for writing this.

[DaBao]

What in the world is wrong with Dumbledore? I feel like I am very close to disliking him, what ever happened to the fun loving, child-like Dumbledore that we all knew and loved?
And McGonagall...
Please update soon! I'm waiting on the edge of my seat for the next installment!

[MinnieQuill]

Sorry, I just can't love the dumbledore character hence I'm a bit mean to him. (If you think this fic is bad, read 'Hidden From View.' THAT is bad.
And until I am told otherwise here is the link for the next chapter. I have only posted it on ff.net.
www.fanfiction.net/s/3260727/6/
Read it and you'll see why.
Cheers
Minniequill

[childminerva]

I see that this has been moved...
I left a review on ff.net that sums up what I think about this story. I still like it, I just wish Albus hadn't acted the way he did!

[MinnieQuill]

Note:- For Die-hard ADMM'ers I doubt you'll continue liking this fic. you have been warned.

Chapter 6:- Confusion is nothing new

Minerva awoke alone to sunlight streaming through her windows temporarily blinding her. Squeezing her eyes shut in a bid to protect her irises, she stumbled out of bed and staggered toward her bathroom. She shivered slightly as she walked as the cool, Scottish air chilled her bare skin, and rubbed her upper arms. Albus must have exited her chambers hours beforehand, for which she was grateful. She wasn’t sure how she would have reacted, had she awoken to his startling – perhaps lustful- blue eyes.

She stepped into the warm jet of water that was the shower and began scrubbing at her skin furiously, as if she could wash away her indiscretions. Her skin smarted as she rubbed the bar of soap over her legs, leaving red trail marks from the top of her thigh, to her ankle. Her body ached; such was the physicality Albus used the previous night. The bar of soap seemed to travel of its own accord to her neck, and she traced small circles over the red marks that marred the ivory skin.

Steam clouded the glass and she slid down the tiled wall and collapsed in a heap, the bar of soap forgotten on the floor next to her. Stern, irascible Professor McGonagall, she thought bitterly, my how the mighty have fallen.

She was not blind, despite what her spectacles might suggest, to how the students perceived her. Strict, inflexible, tyrant or, for the more inventive, pedagogue, she had heard them all in her 39 years of teaching. And they still bothered her, no matter what her pococurante demeanor might suggest. How were the students to know that the eyes hidden behind square frames, masked a penetralia that housed more horrific memories than they had ever dreamed about? How could they even begin to contemplate the inner turmoil she went through at every graduation feast, hoping she had prepared them enough for the world they were about to enter?

The answer was simple. They couldn’t.

She had never been charismatic, and her aloofness made it awkward for her to forge new relationships of any kind. Minerva worked behind-the-scenes, oiling the machinery as it were. Albus may have been the public front of Hogwarts, but she was behind every piece of paper that bore the Hogwarts crest.

Her legs protested as she hauled herself upright and stepped out from the shower. As she reached for the towel, she caught a glimpse of herself in the small portion of mirror that was not clouded. The firm lines of her body seemed to mock her, and she wrapped her towel tightly around her hurriedly.

Whore…

She dispelled her self-flagellating with a sharp shake of her head as she flicked her shoulder-length hair over her shoulder, and marched back into her bedroom. The wardrobe burst open of its own accord and she summoned a pair of black jeans and simple blouse toward her. The jeans hung from her hips, indicating a weight loss she hadn’t noticed, but now as she ran her fingers along her rib cage, she could feel the bones protruding out from the skin. She had always been slim, a ‘sylph’ as Albus had called her, but now she had crossed the line to ‘skinny’. The thought of which didn’t particularly please her.

Albus didn’t seem to mind…

She turned sharply on her heel and marched from her bedroom. Self-pity was not becoming, especially on her. Her footsteps echoed in loudly in the high-ceilinged hall as she marched down the staircase toward the ground floor. A small ray of light emanated from underneath the door and she slowed down, opened it a crack, and peered inside.

Harry sat at the large desk in the corner of the room, overlooking the moors. Piles of parchment littered the hard oak surface but his attention was focused on a small book in front of him. Intrigued, Minerva moved forward, making no sound.

“What do you have there, Potter?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.

She felt her jaw tightening as she recognised the black leather album which Harry hurriedly tried to obscure. With reflexes she could only attribute to her animagus form, she reached forward and snatched the photo album from him, holding it protectively to her chest.

“Where did you find this?” she hissed vehemently, earning herself a startled, almost frightened look from her unruly haired charge.

“It…it was next to one of the Potions textbooks,” he said hurriedly, “I’m sorry, Professor.”

His tone was earnest; as was the look in his eyes, and Minerva felt the lecture of privacy that danced at the tip of her tongue, diminish to the back of her mind.

“That’s all right, Potter,” she said, unclenching her jaw, and relaxing her brow. “Don’t do it again.”

He nodded once smartly and turned back to his homework. His back tensed momentarily and he swiveled back and handed her a small photo.

“Here,” he said thrusting it toward her, “This slipped out when I opened it.”

Minerva looked down at the photograph and inhaled sharply, as a tidal wave of memories and emotions threatened to break the barriers that defined her unflappable composure. The image of herself waved shyly from the photograph before turning to the man beside her and engaging him in conversation.

“You look beautiful.”

She heard Harry’s voice, but paid his compliment no heed; such was her focus on the black-and-white scene before her. She had been 30 when the photograph was taken, and it was at the annual Ministry Ball. The case which had cemented her status as the best Auror had ensured her an invitation, though she had been loathe to accept. The emerald necklace she had worn glimmered in the dim candlelight, and her throat constricted painfully.

She had only gone to the ball because of the man who sat next to her, his fingers running playfully over her hand, and tapping the diamond ring on her left ring finger. Her photographic self smiled shyly, and held his gaze for a moment, before returning her attention to the plate before her. He grinned, drew her to him, and placed a kiss on top of her head.

“You look happy too.”

Harry’s voice dragged her from her memories and she looked up sharply.

“What?” she said in a harsher voice than she intended.

“In the photo,” Harry pressed, “You look happy.”

“I…” she started, willing tears not to fall. “I was,” she finished lamely.

“What happened?” Harry asked softly.

Minerva’s face hardened and her lips thinned until they all but disappeared. “My private life is none of your concern,” she said coldly.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Harry repeated his earlier statement, “But you never look like that. I was just surprised.”

Minerva closed her eyes briefly, trying desperately to stem the memories that broke through the barriers of defense she had laboriously built over the years.

Happy…oh yes, I was happy then…

That year had been the only one that held any sense of normality. It had been when she’d met Kael. He was one of the few men she had been able to have an intelligent conversation with, and one who considered her beauty an appurtenance to her vigorous mind and not visa versa. All-too-quickly they had fallen for each other and announced their engagement. There were whispers of course, after all how could someone as gregarious as Kael, fall for the frigid McGonagall?

Neither of the couple cared and had lived happily for six months. Until Minerva had received a black letter in the mail. She had thought nothing of the letter, and it was only when she opened it to reveal a gritty photograph that she realised the full ramifications of her profession. Kael lay splayed on his back, his face contorted in pain. She had been able to tell immediately that he was dead, but held her composure enough to turn the photograph over.

It was time for pay back, McGonagall. Rest assured, you will be next.

The scream that emerged from her throat had sounded foreign to her ears, and she had fallen to her knees, her body shaking in paroxysms of grief. That was how her colleagues had found her to inform her that Kael’s body had been found. For days after Kael’s death, she had been in a state of catatonia, going about her life as if on automatic pilot. No one knew quite what to say to her, and thus left her alone. Her work continued to be exemplary, and she could still remember the surprise and horror when she announced she was going to teach.

But you’re our best Auror.
I can’t do this any more.
McGonagall! You knew when you began there could be causalities!
I know.
Then why..?
I’ll stay until I find out who killed Kael. Then I am resigning

It had taken her six months to track down her fiancé’s murderers, but only three hours to travel to their head quarters and kill them. The witness report had been chilling, and she had been avoided like the plague when the story began common knowledge due to a ‘leaked’ document.

I, McGonagall, and a small contingent of Aurors arrived at the Headquarters together. After infiltrating the building, McGonagall broke off from the rest of the group and entered the main living room alone, thus alerting our presence to all within the building. The group was in the main living room and tried to escape, but McGonagall cast an anti-apparition charm around the building and surrounding grounds rendering escape impossible.
A duel began and we tried to intervene but were thrown back by a shielding charm of McGonagall’s. We tried to break the barrier but our efforts proved fruitless, and McGonagall fought alone. She used no other curse than Avada Kedavra and the eight men were felled within five minutes, after which McGonagall removed the barrier allowing us to enter.
She left instantly and returned to the Ministry, leaving us with the bodies.
Sincerely
Alastor Moody

Albus had hired her immediately, though he gave her the Transfiguration post rather than the Defense Against the Dark Arts for which she was better qualified. For this she was thankful as every curse brought memories of her Auror years, which inevitably led to Kael.

“Professor?”

Minerva’s head snapped upright as she waded through her inner Charybdis, and re-emerged safely.

“Yes, Potter?”

“Was he the real reason you stopped being an Auror?”

Minerva’s mouth opened, but the rebuke she had planned to bestow upon him died in her throat when she saw his concerned expression.

“Yes, Potter,” she said slowly, evenly. “He was.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

What precisely he was sorry for, Minerva did not know, but his words were comforting nevertheless. “That’s all right, Potter,” she said softly.

“But you did.”

Minerva quirked an eyebrow.

“Look beautiful.”

She flushed and quickly looked away from him. “Flattery will get you anywhere, Potter,” she said to her shoes, “Except with me.”

A small laugh escaped from his lips. “I never would have thought otherwise, Professor.”

His brow suddenly furrowed and he sniffed the air. “Do you smell bacon?”

Minerva raised her eyebrows in skepticism but faltered almost immediately. The smell was unmistakable. “What on earth?” she said to herself, turning smartly on her heel and striding toward the kitchen.

Albus looked upward as she and Harry entered and flashed her a wide smile, which she didn’t return. Minerva glanced sideways at Harry to find that his posture had stiffened and his mouth was small and tight. She placed a light hand on his shoulder and steered him to the table. He sat next to her, still glowering at Albus, who had returned his attention to the frying pan and was now flipping eggs with an ease that surprised her.

“There’s coffee in the pot,” he said, over his shoulder as he placed two rashers of bacon on each of the three plates.

Minerva nodded and reached for the large, steel bodem she had bought in Muggle London. To her surprise Harry pushed his cup in front of her to fill.

“I normally have to drink this to finish my Transfiguration essays,” he said with a small smile, as she poured the black liquid into his cup. “I’m often up to midnight.”

Minerva gave him a small smile. “Believe me, when you take your NEWT’s you will thank me for setting so much homework.”

Potter raised a supercilious eyebrow.

“Trust me on this one,” she said, adding a healthy shot of milk to both of their coffees.

“I do,” he said softly.

Minerva faltered, flustered, and settled for handing him the cup of steaming coffee. He took it wordlessly and sipped the brew tentatively. He nodded slightly, signifying his approval and Minerva sipped her own.

She choked immediately. Albus had obviously added sugar. She surreptitiously pushed the offending brew away from her and poured herself a cup of orange juice. Albus placed a plateful of bacon and eggs before her and Harry. Harry grunted his thanks, but Minerva said nothing, instead looking down at the plate before her. Now she was in Albus’ presence all she could think of was the way he had slammed her against the mattress.

Whore…

Albus sat down in front of her and they ate wordlessly. Harry’s attention was focused in front of him, steadfastly to look upwards at the Hogwarts Headmaster. She caught Albus’ eye to find he was looking at Harry sadly. She bit her lip, wincing as she inadvertently reopened the wound she had inflicted on herself the night before. Harry glanced upward as she wiped away the trickle of blood and silently handed her a handkerchief that he withdrew from his jeans pocket.

She smiled her thanks as she dabbed at the offending blood. Harry returned his attention to his breakfast, but Albus reached forward and placed his hand overtop her own. Involuntarily she flinched, garnering Harry’s attention. She watched in horror as his eyes widened as he recognised the look of shame on her face. His expression turned to betrayal, and he stood quickly and rushed from the room.

Minerva looked to Albus who steadfastly refused to look her in the eye. “I had just earned his trust, Albus,” she said weakly.

“I’m sorry, Minerva,” he said moving forward and placing both hands on her shoulders.

She shrugged them off roughly and rose to her feet. “Albus, what happened last night is staying there,” she said firmly.

“But…”

“No,” she reiterated, “You got what you wanted, and that should suffice.”

“Is that what you think, Minerva?” Albus said angrily, reaching forward and grabbing her upper arms.

“Are you really going to tell me I’m wrong?” Minerva responded, struggling against his strong grip. His fingers clenched tighter until she knew that she would be bruised tomorrow. The pain was strong but she didn’t flinch as the two glared at each other. Albus turned away first and began washing up the remains of breakfast. Minerva stepped forward to go into the hall, but faltered. She could not face Harry’s accusatory eyes at the moment.

She looked out the window, and her eyes traveled over her vast estate. Transfiguring her soft shoes into hiking boots, she walked outside and turned toward the moors. Grey, bleak and depressing, they suited her mood perfectly.

[MinnieQuill]

Chapter 6 (Continued)

Her legs ached from exertion as she climbed the rocky precipice. Pausing momentarily to regain her breath, she reached upward and grasped the edge of the hanging-over crop of rock. With a strength that belied her slight frame, she lifted herself bodily from the ground. With a surge of movement she pulled herself upward and she strained her muscles until she could place her foot on the flat rock. Ignoring the now lingering pain in her hamstring, she placed half of her body weight on her leg, whilst she flung her upper body until her torso collided with the grey stone. From there she rolled onto her back, her chest heaving as her body strived to lessen her heart rate. Adrenalin was pulsing through her veins as she sat upright and crossed her legs.

From her high vantage point she could overlook her entire estate. Rolling hills with waving heather greeted her as she looked north, whilst her castle looked the size of a small cottage if she looked southward. Below her, several hundred feet down, more fields spread beneath her. That was what made being here so exciting; the knowledge that if you fell, you most likely would not survive. She had discovered her current location when she was ten-years-old. Her older brother Wilf, or as he preferred ‘Wolf’, and herself spent days at a time exploring the vast grounds, often erecting a make-shift tent so they did not have to return to the castle.

Her other siblings scorned them when they returned, with scratches on their skin and often covered in dirt, but they never stopped. Together they had found the small, hidden beach on the far side of the lake, a small path that could lead them safely through the entire moor as well as an abandoned shelter in the middle of the wood. Wilf was 15 when he was killed along with the rest of her family. Unlike many brothers and sisters their relationship was as strong at school as it was at home, and the two were rarely apart.

A boy of frightening intelligence, Wilf was nevertheless popular with his ‘debonair smile’ as he called it or goofy grin as she preferred. His friends never particularly liked her, but it was common knowledge that if you messed with Minerva McGonagall, you would have to then deal with Wilf. Needless to say she was rarely bothered.

A small smile flickered over her face as she looked downward and traced the words they had painstakingly carved into the stone.

Property of Wolf and Cat McGonagall.

Wilf had christened her ‘Cat’ because of the way she always seemed to land on her feet if she fell from a tree they were scaling. She had burst into tears when she had mastered her animagus form for the first time and discovered she had a feline form.

One solitary tear fell down her face as she remembered the last conversation the two had had.

So Ickle Catykins, where should we go tomorrow?
I’m not sure, the moors?
No, we did them last week.
True, what about the lake? I’m sure I saw something swimming in there when we went last time.
Did my Ickle Catykins see a water monster? Maybe it’s the Lochness Monster. How cool would that be?
Very cool, Midget Wolfykins, were in not for the fact that we don’t live on Lochness
Ahh well, it will have to be the McGonagall Monster. Wait! We already found that one!
We did?
Yeah! You!
Oh ha ha, aren’t we hilarious? So we’re going to do the lake?
Yeah! And find this mysterious monster.

She drew her knees to her chest, as the cool wind sent a chill through her body. The two of them had been her father’s favourites, and he had often joined them on their ‘explorations’, much to her mother’s dismay. Her mother had been tall and slender like herself, but her features were softer and she always had a smile playing on her lips. Something Minerva never had unless she was with Wilf or her father.

“Min, how on earth did you get up there?”

Minerva turned sharply to find Remus looking upward at her with his hands on his hips. She raised an eyebrow.

“I climbed,” she said off-handedly.

“Why are you here?”

She didn’t answer him as she looked over the grounds once more. From the sound of rough scratching and muttered obscenities she knew that Remus was climbing up to her. She didn’t flinch as his hand snaked around her waist as he pulled her toward him.

“Care to tell me what’s going on?” he asked softly.

“Have you ever felt like ending it all, Remus?” she asked, ignoring his question. “How easy would it be, Remus? To simply jump off?”

“Min, what are you talking about?”

“No one would stand a chance of surviving that fall,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

Remus grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. She held his gaze as she spoke her next sentence. “It would be so easy, Remus.”

“Min, you’re scaring me,” Remus said softly. “What’s going on?”

“I tried it once. Did you know that? Two slicing charms on my wrist.”

Remus took her hand and pushed up the cotton fabric of her sleeve. The white scars on her forearm juxtaposed against the black blouse, ugly and grotesque.

“What do you actually know about me, Remus?” Minerva asked, pulling her arm back and resting her hands in her lap.

“That you’re my best friend,” Remus said immediately, “I know everyone thinks James and Sirius were, but that’s not true. It’s always been you.”

Minerva felt tears well in her eyes. “I slept with Albus,” she whispered.

Remus pulled her tighter toward him. “Did you want to?” he asked softly, tracing small circles on her back.

“No.”

“Then why did you?”

“He said he needed me.”

Remus stiffened, but when he spoke his voice was calm. “How do you feel about this?”

“I feel like a whore.” She said it flatly and without emotion.

“Merlin, Min,” Remus said into her hair. “He had no right to ask you that.”

She raised her head to look at him. “But he did, Remus. And I accepted, making me just as culpable as he is.”

Remus shook his head angrily and Minerva found herself being lifted from the ground until they sat facing each other.

“You are not a whore, Minerva,” Remus said furiously. “I never want to hear you say that again.”

“Then what am I?”

His eyes softened and he reached upward and placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “My best friend,” he said simply.

His fingers lingered at her jaw line and Minerva froze. His skin was surprisingly soft as his fingers trailed over her cheek.

“What are you doing?” Minerva asked, as he reached upward and cupped her face between both of his hands.

He didn’t answer as he leant forward and brushed his lips against hers. Heat flooded through her body as his hands dropped to the small of her back, pressing her against him. Remus leant forward more until her back was flush against the hard stone. Any coherent thought left her brain as he trailed his hand downward and undid the top button of her blouse. This was different to kissing Albus. She wouldn’t have been surprised if sparks had flown from their bodies, such was the heat she could feel in her veins.

“Do you have any idea how long I have wanted to do this?” Remus asked propping himself upward so he could undo the rest of the buttons of her blouse.

Minerva shook her head as she pushed his cloak over his shoulders.

“Since I was 17.”

She smiled as he gently removed her blouse and laid it beside her. She suddenly felt nervous as she realised the scars she had sustained the previous year were now in plain view. She waited with bated breath for him to draw back in revulsion, and to gather his cloak and leave her alone on the rock. He did neither as he dragged a lazy finger along her collarbone, grinning slightly as she shuddered beneath his touch.

His lips replaced his fingers and she gasped as he trailed his tongue down her front. His hands found the zip of her jeans and she leant back as he pulled them down, again folding them in a neat pile above her blouse. He sat upright and pulled his own shirt over his head. His chest was sculpted; the evidence of his lycanthropy, and Minerva pulled him back down, kissing him hard so that he growled. Smirking inwardly she rolled so she was above him and toyed with the waistband of his trousers. Slowly she undid his belt, taking time to linger on his stomach, the fingers of one hand dancing up his torso and tracing around his nipple.

She could see his breathing increase and her own arousal increased tenfold. With nimble fingers she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down. Remus let out a feral growl and flipped her over, her back colliding with the hard rock. She didn’t care as he traveled down her body, unclasping her bra and throwing it haphazardly next to the growing pile of clothing. Her panties met the same fate and she smirked as Remus reached for his wand and cast an invisibility field around them, before then disposing of his own underwear with a muttered vanishing charm.

She gasped as he entered her and arched her pelvis toward him.

“Tell me what you want, Min,” he whispered into her ear.

Her fingernails scratched his back in response as she pulled him forcefully toward her and he smirked before obliging her. A moan escaped from her lips as he thrust against her, but was stifled by his lips. His mouth clamped against hers, the kiss hungry and demanding as their rhythm increased.

Her breath became ragged as Remus broke off the kiss, every thrust bringing her closer to release.

“Min…” he breathed into her ear.

She ground her hips against him, her arms around his neck as he thrust harder. Finally, they both reached their climax simultaneously and he held himself above her and brushed away a sweaty lock of hair from her face.

“You’re beautiful, Min,” he said, leaning forward and kissing her lightly. “Remember that.”

He rolled off her and they lay side by side as their breathing returned to normal. She rested her head against his chest and he gently stroked her hair.

“Where does this leave us?” she asked, after an indefinable amount of time.

“Where do you want this to go?”

His voice was sincere and Minerva pushed herself upward to look at him. “Do you want this to be a one time fling or something more serious?” she asked seriously.

Remus smiled as he reached upward and touched her face. “Min, I would do anything for you. Does that answer your question?”

She nodded as she lowered herself back down and rested her head on his shoulder. “Stay with me tonight?” she asked softly, kissing his neck.

Remus nodded. “And tomorrow night?”

She smiled. “And the night after that.”

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Author’s note:- Okay, when I started this fic it was going to be ADMM then…well I continued writing and it didn’t seem to fit. Tell me your opinion on this please. Good or bad. Cheers. Minniequill

Another note:- the chapter title is from the song ‘Time after Time’. The version I have is by Eva Cassidy.

[Trulyamused]

Wow, go Remus. Bad Albus. Great job.
Your first real lemon, I believe. ;D
Nicely done.

Truly

[MinnieQuill]

It was my first lemon! I'm quite proud of it actually. Well not really, but I'd never done one before. It was quite awkward to write actually, I kept thinking 'If my mum reads this I will be SO embarrassed!' lol

[McGonagallsGirl]

...hmm.....More? Please? I want to know how it ends.

[crystalpheonixeyes]

Okay My first reaction was O my F'ing God. Personally I think that ALbus and MIn work perfectly here, and that Min and Remus is really really OOC. Personally I don't enjoy that ship, but Don't listen to me. This is very well written andI hope you update soon.

[MinnieQuill]

I really don't seem to be able to win with this fic. Some say Albus is perfectly in character - others say he's OOC. Some agree with the Remus pairing, others won't read it anymore because of it. And then there are those who believe there is too much sex. Talk about confusing!
Anyway the following may help you guys gain insight as to the 'why' of how this fic is going:
Yes, this fiction blends rather a lot of sex into its story, and the reason for this is simple. I have never tried it before. As stated in my profile the reason I use fanfiction is to test different writing styles and find out my strengths and weaknesses as well as gauging people's reactons. I have never before used this amount of sex, description and the sort of vocabulary before hence the reason I am now.
The sex in this story may be off kilter, but its what I came up with when I sat down and began to write. I am not someone who plans out a story in minute detail before I start; I write what comes to me at that point in time.
As for the characterisations of Albus and Lupin, the fact of the matter is I care little for Albus, whilst I quite like Lupin. Albus irritates me as he always seems to know the answers but hides behind a benevolent twinkle. Since I was 9 and first discovered the books I have thought there was something darker lurking there; which is what I'm trying to portray here.
Lupin on the other hand has always seemed to me to be a person who is not judgemental and when he falls for someone, he falls hard. Again that is what I am trying to do here.
The psychological aspect is more difficult. Minerva's past is not pretty and she has never dealt with it particularly well choosing to hide behind a stern facade. This makes her thought processes somewhat difficult as I try and put myself in her shoes and write what my personal reaction would be. As I could never define myself as acting normally her reactions may seem odd. A fact I concede.
- Hope this clears it all up. You might be better to email me if you have any other queries. This site is soon to become restricted on this computer so I won't be able to post (my parents have huge issues against my writing. Quote 'You're not particularly good anyway - why waste your time?' Unquote)
So, this may be it for a while folks. I'll try and post on fanfiction or may have to get others to post for me here.
So if I don't see you for a while; goodbye and thank you for your company!
Minniequill

[McGonagallsGirl]

Are you kidding me? That's terrible. This is why I never talk to my parents, even when I live with them.
I'm so sorry, and I hope you keep writing. I really do. I have a desperate desire to see this one finished.
I feel a bit like I've been with it from the start, and as lame as it sounds, I'd like to know what happens.

[childminerva]

I'm sorry your parents are such ***holes when it comes to this...I for one would love to read the rest of this. Even though it's no longer ADMM, it's still a great piece of fanfiction. If you like, you can email me the chapters so I can read it.
I'd even post it for you and send you your feedback if that would be helpful.
And just so you know--you are a good writer and don't for a second believe that you aren't.

[MinnieQuill]

Chapter 7: -

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Author’s note: - Well this fic is certainly my most controversial! Random sex, Albus in character, Albus out of character, Remus belongs with Tonks – how could I write this… the reviews were wonderful and I thank each and everyone of you for being, sometimes, brutally honest. Criticism is wonderful; particularly when constructive. Well, now that is off my chest. On with the story!

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And still I have my weaknesses
Still I have my strength[/b]

---

Minerva walked slowly down the treacherous slope, carefully placing one foot in front of the other lest she fall. Her tread was light and her movements’ fluid as she leapt easily over a gap between rocks where a churning creek rushed toward the lake. She landed cat-like on the grey stone, and stood upright slowly, watching as the sun set. The lake was turned into liquid gold, as the sun’s rays shone on its surface and it was with considerable reluctance that she turned away and continued toward the castle.

Remus had left her mid-afternoon to placate Moody who would undoubtedly not be pleased he was staying with her, but had promised he would be back that night. Now, three hours later, she was returning from her hike which had seen her climbing over rocks that looked to be impossible to scale. Her body ached with exertion, but the physical activity had released some of the tension in her mind.

She jumped the last six feet, landing easily on her feet, grateful not for the first time of her feline animagus form. Poppy, her symptomatic chidings aside, was always astounded when she performed her annual staff check-up, only to find that Minerva still retained the health and vitality of a woman in her mid-thirties.

It’s the animagus influence, she’d say as Minerva buttoned her blouse after being poked and prodded in more areas than she cared to count, I’d kill to be this healthy.

Minerva rolled her eyes at the memory as she trudged through the long grass. As she neared the hilltop she looked downward, and the smile that had been pulling at the corner of her mouth vanished. Albus rested on his knees, a slouching figure in blue robes, staring over the brackish moors. She stopped mid-stride, and took several deep breaths to brace herself for what, inevitably, was going to be an extremely hard conversation.

Her gait was long as she walked down the hill, coming to a halt beside him. He didn’t give indication he knew that she was standing over him, and she sat down and drew her knees to her chest, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on intertwined fingers. For a long time neither of them spoke and the sun had almost disappeared before a sound was uttered.

It was Albus who broke the silence. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Minerva exhaled deeply and turned to face the wizard, her mentor, who had aged decades in a mere week.

“Where will you go?” she asked quietly, reaching down and tugging free and small clump of grass.

Albus placed his hand over hers, preventing her from retrieving another fistful, but drew back quickly as if he were burnt.

“Hogwarts,” he said softly. “I need to perform the duties I am paid for.”

Minerva closed her eyes tightly for a handful of seconds, cursing the next sentence she was obliged to say.

“Albus…” she began, the tendons in her temples working furiously as she struggled to find words for what she had to say. “The Ministry…in light of current circumstances…has deemed that you…”

She faltered, and bit her lip. Albus reached out and placed his finger under her chin, turning her head so she was facing him. In spite of herself she flinched at the look of cold fury on his face, but finished her sentence.

“…should take a brief respite from duties.”

Albus’ jaw clenched, and his hand fell back down to his side. “I’ve taken a ‘brief respite’,” he said angrily.

Minerva held his furious gaze. His eyes, which formally had twinkled as if in perpetual good humor, had darkened until they appeared black, and she could see herself reflected in his irises.

“I am merely relaying what I have been told, Albus,” she said carefully. She was unsure how to act around the man she had formerly trusted implicitly. Ronald Weasley’s death had transformed him from a benevolent man, to one whose moods could only be described as unpredictable.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he spat.

Minerva took her time wiping away the flecks of spittle that had splattered across her cheeks before she answered. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”

Albus’ action was too quick to see, and Minerva found herself being dragged upward by two strong hands which gripped her upper arms painfully; fingers which had bruised the same area only hours before hand. Pain shot through her body as Albus pulled her forward until they were nose-to-nose.

“Wasn’t necessary?!” he hissed, lifting her so that her toes barely touched the ground. “How did you figure that one out?!”

Minerva bent her elbows and dug her fingernails into his forearms. The pain made him release her and she staggered back several feet, suddenly frightened of the man before her. She didn’t make her fear known as she threw her shoulders back and jutted her chin forward.

“The Albus Dumbledore I knew would have allowed himself to heal before attempting to return to work! What do you think happened last year? You were so busy gallivanting around the Ministry that you barely spared a second for Hogwarts!” she retorted angrily.

“That is not true, Minerva!”

“Bullshit, Albus!” As often happened when she swore, her obscenity silenced him, and she was able to continue at normal tones. “Why do you think you were given so little papers to sign, so little forms to fill? I was doing all of them that’s why, Albus!”

He looked stunned, and his eyes widened as he looked at her rapidly breathing form. As often happened when she was incensed, her breathing had increased, and her chest rose up-and-down rapidly, her breasts straining against her blouse. She hurriedly looked down and folded her arms across her torso.

“You see only what you want to see, Albus,” she said quietly. “You can speak all you like of loss, pain and love; but for once be honest with yourself. You lost your parents to natural causes; your best friends are still alive.” She faltered briefly before continuing. “As for love,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically harsh, “well I don’t think you have the slightest idea what real love even is.”

His mouth fell open slightly as she ended her tirade, and his shoulders slumped. “I love you,” he said softly.

Minerva shook her head. “No, Albus. I am, or rather I hope I still am, your closest friend. What happened last night was a manifestation of a need for physical contact.”

Albus’ eyes returned to their usual colour as he looked at her, before he shook his head. “I love you,” he repeated.

Minerva stepped forward and rested her hand briefly against his cheek. There was no jolt of heat through her body as there was with Remus, and she knew at that moment that she had made the right decision. Albus reached upward and clasped her hand in his. His fingers intertwined with hers as his other hand reached up and ran a finger down her jaw-line. His touch was feather-light, but she turned her head to the side.

His silence spoke volumes that words could not express; and she knew that she had closed a door she had only recently realised she’d left open. His fingers were still entwined with hers, and she disentangled them slowly.

“I’m sorry, Albus,” she said softly.

She looked down at the ground, and side-stepped around him, but was pulled back by a firm grip on her wrist. In a fluid motion was twisted on her toes with the feline grace she comported herself with, and her eyes widened as he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. His lips lingered there only for a brief moment before he released her.

“To remember you,” he said simply.

Minerva nodded as the raw emotion etched in every line of his face spoke volumes of the sadness he was feeling. He turned his back on her, and stared across the now black darkness that were the moors.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come inside,” she said softly.

He shook his head. “I will later.”

Minerva sighed and conjured a thick fur-lined cloak which she draped across his shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded, though he didn’t turn around. When he didn’t speak, Minerva walked across the field toward the kitchen where light was flooding out of the doorway; a beacon in the blackness of the night.

As she entered Harry looked upward and glared at her from where he was stirring a bubbling pasta sauce. He turned his back firmly on her, the blue expanse of straining fabric across broad shoulders almost radiating anger. She suppressed a sigh as she moved behind him and placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder. He threw it off angrily as he whirled around, causing her to almost loose her footing.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, cold fury emanating from every syllable he spoke.

Minerva closed her eyes briefly before speaking. “Harry, I’m not going to try and explain myself to you; but please, I promise I did not break your confidence.”

Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. “What’s to explain? You’ve been shagging your superior. It’s not exactly rocket science,” he spat, a cruel, malicious smile flickering across his face.

Minerva held his gaze, her eyes narrowing until she knew they resembled slits, but when she spoke her voice was calm and level. “I’m not perfect, Harry,” she said softly. “I don’t purport myself to be. There are actions I wish I’d never made, but I can’t change them. You should do well to remember that.”

She turned on her heel and strode away from the boy who stood motionless, wielding the wooden spoon as one would a wand. Her light footsteps echoed softly around the cavernous hall as she treaded lightly toward the staircase. At its foot, she paused and looked over her shoulder, sensing someone’s gaze on her back.

Harry stood in the open doorway of the kitchen; his eyes riveted on her figure, his face one of open calculation. She could almost see him thinking as he processed her words, and inclined her head in his direction. He sneered slightly, and turned away, leaving her feeling tired and resigned.

Shrugging, she ascended the stairs until she reached the second floor. The wooden banister was smooth under her delicate palm, and long fingers traced the intricate engravings, lingering on the last picture.

Lion – the symbol of Gryffindor – the symbol of bravery.

Her thoughts, unbidden and unwanted, strayed first to the boy still stirring a pasta sauce, and the old wizard still staring into the darkness.

Are you brave, Minerva, or are you foolish?

Her own voice reverberated in her mind, and she stepped purposefully onto the landing and walked down the corridor to her bedroom. The room was cold, and she rubbed her upper arms, wincing as her fingers touched where Albus had bruised her, and she hastily pointed her wand at the fireplace.

“Incendio.”

Flames shot upward, and she paused for a moment, reveling in the sudden warmth. Her eyes fell on the coffee table, and rested on the copy of ‘The Book Thief’ which lay where she had left it less than a week ago. ‘Death’ cut an impressive figure on the front cover, as did the splotches of red which contrasted sharply against the monotonous colour scheme of grey.

A Reassuring Announcement
Please, be calm, despite that previous threat.
I am all bluster –
I am not violent. I am not malicious.
I am a result.

The passage, etched on her mind from her first reading, rang loudly in her ears as she moved toward the sofa and reached for the book. She inhaled the scent of a printed page deeply, and closed her eyes. When they re-opened she found the words blurred as she looked at them through a film of tears. She wiped her eyes irritably, and tried to focus her attention on the words before her, but her eyes kept filling and she eventually gave up and allowed her suppressed emotion to come forth.

She cried not for herself, but for the scores of people whom Voldemort had tarnished with his brush of evil. The Weasley’s lost a son, Hermione a lover, Harry a friend and Albus a symbol of what he fought for.

She herself…she had lost a student, a child that she herself would never bear.

Tears continued to run unabashedly down her face as she rested her head against the high-back of the sofa and closed her eyes, urging her tired body to rest.

I am a result.

The four simple words ran in a continuous loop in her cerebral mind, like a record whose needle stayed resolutely within the groove. Almost instantly she was transported to in front of the ancient oak tree. Ronald Weasley looked upward as if sensing her gaze, and smiled slightly. She raised her hand in a simple wave, which he returned before focusing his attention to a point over her shoulder.

His eyes widened in horror, and Minerva whirled around on the tips of her toes. A shrill shriek escaped from her lips and she ran forward in a dead sprint. A dark, cloaked figure bent over Harry’s prone form, their arm raised. Her eyes focused on the deadly miserichorde held in their hand, the pointed tip glinting in the light. As if in slow motion, the blade was thrust downward to deliver the coup de grace, or death blow.

She was mere feet away when the first blood began to spill and fell to the ground. The scarlet liquid formed a puddle around Harry’s body, and she watched in horror as the cloaked man turned his attention to her kneeling form. She looked upward as the man lowered his hood to reveal the face of Remus.

“No,” she choked. “No, it’s not real.”

Remus smirked as he raised the knife again, and she watched resigned as the blade flew toward the centre of her chest. She felt no pain, and watched dispassionately as blood stained her blouse, spreading out like a crimson rose on her chest. She fell to the ground as Remus reared to his full height and walked away leaving her in a pool of her own blood. It was then she started to scream.

Minerva awoke to blood, tears, and screaming. All of which were her own.

She could see a pair of scuffed black shoes in front of her and raised her head. Remus stood before her, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes full of concern. There was no hood, and no miserichorde, and as she smelt his familiar scent her breathing slowed.

“Min,” he said, sitting next to her and pulling her close, rocking her back and forth. “It was just a dream.”

She nodded into his chest. “Just a dream,” she echoed. “Just a dream.”

---

Author’s note:- Shorter than usual, and for that I apologise, but any longer and any tension that could perhaps be there would have vanished. Please review. Cheers. Minniequill
Another note:- the quotes throughout are from ‘The Book Thief’ (yes, I’m slightly obsessed), and the chapter title is from a song by The Cranberries which name eludes me at the present time.

[jayejaye]

Harry is turning into an a**hole, but I suppose watching you're best friend die might do that to you. I actually like how you're writing Albus in this. In this chapter he seems truly haunted. Min and Remus wasn't a pairing I had considered before, but the way you write them in this they fit well. Keep it up hon.. :-)

[MinnieQuill]

Yeah this chapter was completely random. I just sat down and went 'FINISH IT.' Hmm...perhaps I shouldn't do that... ahh well. And I thought that Albus should show some vulnerability. As for Harry...well he's a teenager (sorry, but we can be sh**s) and he's in mourning. Not a good combo. I speak from experience here. lol.

[maritelske]

As I said, I enjoyed the dream/reality sequence - some very, VERY beautiful writing contained in this chapter. I also loved the Albus/Minerva arguing scene and the justification of their physical relationship. Minerva did a good job in sticking up for her own beliefs, and I am glad she didn't back down. Minerva never appeared to me as weak - and you depict her beautifully. I love this writing style Minniequill, so I hope you stick at it and continue to enjoy it.

[crystalpheonixeyes]

Wow.

I love this fic so much that I am scaring myself. The dream was well written. I don't particularly aprove of Minerva/Remus, but thats okay. I hope you do update soon. I can't wait.

[McGonagallsGirl]

Yeah, really I think you could do absolutely anything with this fic and there are those of us who would follow it.

You: "And then Harry flew on his broom all the way to New York City where he became a Broadway Star."

Us: "Omg, brilliant! I love where you're taking this! Update soon!

There's just something about the way you've built this one up. There can be no wrong done.

XOXO

[MinnieQuill]

And the prize for making me blush and look like a tomato goes to *drum roll*... McGonagallsGirl! All I can say is that I am far and beyond far happy that this fic is continuing to be enjoyed despite the changes I've made.

[Trulyamused]

I love it. I really, really do.

Brilliant work.

Truly

[MinnieQuill]

Chapter 8: -
Keep on looking through the window again,
But I'm not sorry if I do insult you.
I'm sad, not sorry, 'bout the way that things went

---

Minerva wrapped the sash of her peignoir tightly around her waist as she stood before the window. The dark, mossy slate of the moors loomed from the lucid fog that bled into the overcast sky as the first of the sun’s rays began to spill over the horizon, forcing their way through the thick mist.

Remus lay behind her, his arm thrown across her now empty side of the bed. He had carried her there after she had woken from her nightmare, and merely held her until she fell back into a restless slumber. She had awoken in a cold sweat to find Remus holding her hand tightly, his own eyes closed. It was with some difficulty that she had pried her hand from his and risen from the warmth of her bed. Her feet had carried her downstairs to the library where she tried to lose herself in the fictional world of C.S Lewis. It had been a vain attempt in escapism, and her eyes had stared at the same page for over an hour as her mind continued in a broken record of memories despite her best attempts to knock off the needle.

“What happened last night was a manifestation of a need for physical contact.”
“I love you.”

Minerva folded her arms tightly across her chest as her gaze flicked back to the window. The sun continued to rise and she watched as the fog slowly dissipated over the brackish moors. In the far distance she could see the overhanging rock she had climbed yesterday, and the corners of her mouth tightened into a small frown. A tall silhouette stood upright, his stone-washed robes billowing around him as he stared over the cliff top.

“Jesus, Albus,” Minerva muttered under her breath as she watched the old wizard fall to his knees, and look upward at the grey sky.

She turned sharply and darted into the corridor and down the stairs in a blur of activity only achievable by those light of foot. Her pace quickened to a run as she rushed through the kitchen and burst onto the dew-covered grounds. The damp grass chilled her bare feet but she continued her forward charge, leaping over several large rocks toward her quarry.

Her gown was soon soaked through with morning dew, and her body began to shiver as the chill wind passed easily through the thin material. A rush of movement caught her attention, and her eyes widened as four figures rose up from the heather that bordered the moors. She stopped short in her mad charge and withdrew her wand from her pocket as the four men slowly encircled her. The sharp motion of her wand was almost too quick to see and she twisted around on the tips of her toes in a curiously terpsichorean movement. A jet of light streamed from the end of her wand, hitting two of her would-be-attackers in the chest, felling them to ground instantly.

As she balanced her weight evenly, her eyes darted from one black-robed figure to the next; all-too-aware that another six men had revealed themselves and were now moving around her in an ever diminishing circle. Her fingers curled around the ebony wood of her wand as she bit her lip.

“Leglimens!” she hissed under her breath, focusing her thoughts on the wizard that sat with his back to her, completely oblivious to her plight, still too far away to hear her should she shout for assistance. “Turn around, Albus, dammit!”

“Morsus!”

Minerva dived and rolled on the ground away from the curse that hit the ground where she had been standing, leaving a large scorch mark. The smell of charred grass emanated from the earth as she fired off her own curse from her lower position which hit her attacker’s legs forcing him to his knees.

“Vindicto!”

She curled her legs to her chest, narrowly missing the spell cast in her direction by another masked Death Eater.

“Pyre,” she called as she leapt to her feet, diving behind a large rock which shattered when it was hit by a well-placed ‘destructo’ jinx. A streak of silver light flew from her wand, encircling another two Death Eaters, rendering them unconscious immediately. She rose to her feet, holding her wand beside her as her eyes darted from one of the five Death Eaters to the next, whilst Auror training she had not used in years reasserted itself.

Keep them moving…never let your guard down.

A Death Eater on her far left raised their wand and she ran toward an array of rocks that formed a natural wall of defense. She could feel the heat from the curse behind her, and leapt over the rock barrier without the aid of touching it – her legs pivoting in a handless cartwheel. She rolled as soon as she landed on the ground, missing a flurry of curses which punched the ground where she had been standing.

She leapt back to her feet, and pivoted on the tips of her toes, thanking the gods that her skill at practical defense had not left her. Two curses flew toward her, and she arched her back so they flew over her chest so close she could feel the wind they created brush against her skin.

“Leglimens!” she hissed under her breath again, “Turn around dammit, Albus!”

“Fòrsaì làidre!”

Minerva’s eyes widened as a red sheet of light was sent towards her. She dived forward, and the curse intended for her hit the barrier of rocks she was crouched behind, shattering them into pieces of tiny debris.

Sweet Jesus, she thought as she shielded her head with her hands as rubble pounded around her, the Dark Lord’s taught them the ‘cataclyso’ hex.

As she raised her wand to fire off her own curse in retaliation, the sound of thrumming suddenly rang through the air. Magical vibrations shook the very earth she was lying on and she looked briefly over her shoulder.

Albus had risen to his feet and was holding his hand in the air, every line of his face contorted in fury. She lowered her wand as the five standing men were thrown to the ground with such force the wind was knocked from their lungs. Albus moved with a speed she thought him incapable of, leaping over rocks with absurd ease, and pulled her to her feet fluidly.

He eyed the men at her feet distastefully before turning his attention to her. “Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, taking the fur-lined cloak she had conjured for him the night before and draping it across her shoulders.

“No,” she said softly, stepping forward and crouching beside one of the men she had hit with the ‘veriaci’ curse. She placed two fingers to his neck, and was both relieved and disappointed when she found a steady pulse.

“He’s alive,” she said to Albus.

He nodded as he knelt beside another man and echoed her actions. “This one too.” He fell silent as he rose to his feet and checked for the pulse of another masked figure. “You used leglimency,” he said softly, looking over his shoulder.

Minerva nodded as she conjured rope from thin air and bound the ten men together. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know you knew leglimency.”

She raised her eyebrows in his direction. “My father trained me.”

“Oh, I see.”

Albus looked at his feet as Minerva wrote a note to the warden of Azkaban upon a conjured piece of parchment which she tied to the rope that bound the men together.

She tapped the conjured rope once.

“Portcus.”

The rope glowed red for an instant, then the men vanished with a faint crack leaving Albus and Minerva alone once more.

“Thank you,” Minerva said softly placing her hand on the older wizard’s upper arm.

“You would have easily beaten them all, Minerva,” Albus said moving away so her arm fell limply to her side. He turned his back on her, and walked back to the castle with unhurried steps. Once she heard the kitchen door shut, she looked about her surroundings. The once pristine grounds were now covered in shattered stone, and scorch marks. She waved her wand and the stone debris vanished, though the burns remained.

She knelt down beside the largest scorch mark and conjured a small knife from thin air. The McGonagall barrier had been breached, and the only way for it to be reinforced to its former strength was to make a donation of blood. She closed her eyes as she pressed the knife point against her palm.

The cold metal dug into her skin, and with a vicious downward stroke she cut through the flesh. She bit her lip to stifle the cry of pain that threatened to emerge as she opened her eyes and looked at her bleeding hand. Blood dripped steadily from her hand to the ground, forming rivulets of scarlet along her forearm. She turned her palm facedown and placed it against the grass. Immediately the ground rippled outward in a faint wave as she invoked the ancient magic that had been passed down through the McGonagall clan for countless generations.

Blood magic travels in a different current to ordinary magic, and if one has both the necessary power and skill, they can combine the two without the use of wands or words. Minerva’s hand began to shake, and she watched in awe as thorns made of black sparks traveled over the grounds, twisting along the grass and coiling around her castle in a vicious tangle. She pressed harder as they formed a stranglehold around the rocks of the moors, the branches of the trees and the stones of her castle, making a briar of knots so thick that no person less powerful than she could surpass them.

“Give it your best shot,” she thought snidely as she wrenched her hand away from the earth. The black thorns glowed red for an instant, then disappeared, leaving her estate looking as it always had. She rose unsteadily to her feet, and vanished the knife with a flick of her wand. Her hand would ache for some time, and would now bear a scar, but her estate was safe.

Her gaze flicked back to the castle, and her attention was drawn upward by the distant creak of someone pushing open an ancient window. She caught a glimpse of a figure in red and stone-washed blue, but there was a resounding bang as the window was shut viciously by a pale hand. Harry was playing at voyeurism from his third floor bedroom though the nature of his expression obscured by the glare of the sun on the glass.

Exhaustion flooded through her body, as the coldness of adrenalin diffused. The combination of physical exertion, blood loss and lack of sleep threatened to overwhelm her, and she trudged back toward the kitchen, her feet dragging in the soft ground. As she was about to enter, she looked upward again at the third-floor window.

Harry still stood there, his eyes focused intently upon her; his gaze unreadable.

A shiver ran down her spine and adrenalin surged through her body like an icy flood head, and with it the same exhilaration she felt when she climbed to the hidden cliff top. As she straightened her shoulders and focused her attention on rebuilding the unbreakable armour of her mind that formed the backbone of her impeccable comportment.

She tore her eyes away from the boy’s, and stepped inside the warm kitchen. The heat was a welcome respite from the chill outside, and she removed both Albus’ heavy cloak and her damp peignoir, draping them both over the back of two chairs as she held her hands out to the flames. Blood had dried on her hand and wrist, and she moved toward the sink, and ran warm water over the wound. The heat was blessedly warm, and she arched her back slightly toward its source.

The water ran crimson as her blood intermingled with the clear liquid, and it was some time before she drew back, holding her hand to her chest. She conjured bandages from thin air, and tied them tightly around her hand, to prevent the wound from re-opening.

A loud slam from behind her caused her to start, and her wand was in her hand before she had fully turned. Her posture relaxed as she saw, not a dozen masked Death Eaters, but one Harry Potter who looked mildly amused at her reaction, his hand still raised from where he had pushed open the door, causing it to bang against the wall.

“Mr. Potter,” she said coolly, lowering her wand as she calmed her breathing.

Harry’s eyes traveled over her body, and she became uncomfortably aware that without her dressing gown, her figure was on full display.

“Mr. Potter,” she repeated a little louder than before.

His head snapped upright, and he resumed a posture that dangerously toed the line between confidence and arrogance. “I want you to teach me to move like you do,” he said.

Minerva raised her eyebrows. “Do you now?” she said, her voice as hard as flint. She had not forgotten the way his lip had curled in malice as he looked at her last night.

Harry’s eyes danced in time with the flames of the fire, though his face remained still. “Yes,” he said eventually through clenched teeth. “It’s the least you can do.”

Minerva’s mouth tightened into frown as her lips hardened. “I beg your pardon?” she hissed, as every muscle of her body tensed in indignation.

“You heard me,” he said, his stolid visage not wavering.

“How dareyou,” Minerva said, biting back the scathing reprimands she would have bestowed upon anyone else.

“Why shouldn’t I dare is perhaps a better question,” Harry retorted instantly.

“Get out,” Minerva hissed, pointing her hand in the direction of the open door. Her pulse was pounding in her ears as anger surged through her veins, dispelling any compassionate tolerance she may have once harbored toward her charge. “It you think for one second that staying here permits you to disrespect me then you are sorely mistaken.”

Harry glared at her for several moments, but Minerva did not look away from his fiery gaze, and eventually he lowered his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry, Professor,” he said harshly.

Minerva didn’t speak for several moments as she eyed him from her superior height. Whilst Harry had had a sudden growth spurt late the year before, she still topped him by a couple of inches.

“Apology accepted, Potter,” she said curtly, retrieving her dressing gown and tying the sash viciously. “We start tomorrow.”

---

Approximately three hours later found her in the library, curled in her favourite armchair with a book in her lap. She had forgone ‘The Book Thief’ for a novel of a happier nature, and Jane Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’ now rested against her knee. Though she was loath to admit it; the novel deemed ‘chic lit’ when it was first published was among her large collection of favourites.

A rueful smile played on her lips as she remembered how Kael had nicknamed her ‘Elizabeth’ after the main protagonist.

“Kael, don’t be ridiculous.”
“She’s strong, independent, and fiery; much like a witch I know.”

Her eyes turned to the text before her, though she had scarce look at it, so ingrained upon her mind was the story.

…Darcy had never been so bewitched by anybody as he was by her. He really believed that, were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger…

She turned the thin page slowly as she reached out for the cup of tea that rested on the circular table beside her. As she brought the cup up to her lips she heard he unmistakable sound of someone treading quietly on the wooden floor. Her body stiffened as she replaced the tea onto the table and withdrew her wand from her pocket. Though she had not yet crossed the boundary between cautiousness and paranoia as Alastor Moody had long ago, there had been several instances of the years where she had come damn close.

This was one such time.

As her body curled into a ball, ready to spring should the situation arise, she listened intently. The footsteps slowed before they ceased all together and she knew that whoever they belonged to had stopped directly behind her.

She gritted her teeth as she swung herself over the back of her chair holding her wand out. Her unruly-haired charge looked back at her, his mouth ajar and the heavy pile of parchment and textbooks he had been carrying crashed to the floor.

“Merlin, Potter,” she snapped summoning the books and papers toward her. “Announce your presence when you enter a room.”

The boy nodded mutely as she stalked past him and set his school books on the desk by the window. She brushed away a loose strand of hair as she turned back toward him.

“Do you require assistance?” she asked gesturing at the tottering pile before her.

He shook his head as he overcame his surprise, and his face molded itself into what was fast becoming his customary arrogant expression. “No,” he said shortly. “I think I might go back upstairs to my room anyway.”

He looked pointedly at her, and Minerva knew that she was meant to excuse herself. Instead she jutted her chin forward and thrust her shoulders back. “Stop being so childish,” she snapped. “I am not a contagious disease you need to avoid. Yes, I have made mistakes, Potter; of that I am well aware, but honestly! Do you really think your current behaviour is helping in any way?”

Harry glared at her, his mouth set in a straight, hard line. “I don’t have to answer to you, McGonagall.”

Minerva’s eyebrows rose and she stepped forward until they were nose-to-nose. “Whilst you are under my roof, you will address me by my proper title, Potter,” she said softly, in a voice that chilled to the bone. “Is that understood?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Professor, he spat, pronouncing the word as if it were an obscenity. He glared upward at her from his lower vantage point. “Because you’re always right, aren’t you, Professor?” he said coldly. “Strict but fair Professor McGonagall. Always right, because it’s you who’s doing it.”

Minerva’s hand rose of its own accord, and before she knew it she had brought it across the boy’s face with a slap that resounded around the otherwise silent room. Harry’s eyes were full of a curious blend of surprise that quickly gave way to maliciousness as he brought his hand to the steadily rising welt on his cheek. Her chest rose and fell as she looked at the teenager in front of her who had repeatedly penetrated the boundary of her composure which she had always thought unbreakable.

“Minerva?”

Both she and Harry started at the sound of Remus Lupin’s voice. The werewolf stood in the open doorway, his eyes travelling from Harry’s red cheek, to Minerva’s hand which was still raised. She dropped it hurriedly, and stepped backward.

Remus stepped inside hesitantly, and walked across the room to her. “I need to go and speak to Moody,” he said taking one of her hands in his. “I owled him this morning about the Death Eater attack and he wants to know all the details.”

Minerva nodded and Remus leant forward and kissed her chastely on the lips. “I’ll be back tonight,” he said drawing back and giving her a small smile.

She curved her mouth in the semblance of a smile as he released her hand and turned to Harry.

“I expect I’ll see you tonight, Harry,” he said, eyeing the red mark on his cheek.

Harry didn’t respond and Remus walked quickly from the room leaving the two alone once more. The silence in the air was filled with hostile tension that Minerva didn’t bother to try and dispel. She marched back to the armchair and retrieved her book from the table. Harry crossed the room and sat at the desk, reaching across and withdrawing a quill and ink well.

Neither said anything and soon all that could be heard was the sound of pages turning and a quill scratching against parchment.

---

Author’s note: - My apologies for the delay. I have had complete writer’s block with this story. Anyhow, I hope you liked this latest installment. As always, please review (only four last time) as they really are encouraging. Cheers. Minniequill.

[childminerva]

Can I just kill Harry now? He's such a prick...gah

Anyway, another great chapter.