Toothpaste Kisses

[PiER]

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it all belongs to JK Rowling

Summary: By day they worked together, by night they were lovers but it was not to last. ADMM


Toothpaste Kisses

Chapter One



By day we worked together by night we were lovers.

The thought rang clear through Minerva’s mind.

By day we worked together by night we were lovers.

The words repeated themselves over and over and over again. A thud thud inside her head. A dull ache growing louder and louder. An incessant pain causing her vision to blur.

By day we worked together by night we were lovers.

She shook her head in a vain attempt to dispel the neurotic throbbing but was left wincing. It was a year ago to the day when the two of them had been lying in bed in the early hours of the morning listening to a symphony player on the wireless.

“Sweetheart?”

Even then Minerva was sure she detected a note of reluctance in Albus’ tone. Looking back she now realised that his able fingers had not strayed far all night. Amongst the crumpled sheets they had ghosted along her spine, tips like soft velvet. He had remained silent until she had carefully turned her head, pecking his bare chest, before catching his gaze.

“A war is on the way.”

She had blinked in surprise as she had struggled to find an immediate response. They had gone from muttering meaningless nothings to serious conversation in less than a heartbeat. She had moved to sit upright and remembered the way his blue eyes had left her face for a split second to follow the path where the quilt had slipped. Perhaps unconsciously, his arms had tightened hindering her progress all the more.

“Albus.”

At her admonishment he had loosened his grip but kept a hold of both her hands, their fingers entwined. Tracing the ageold grooves of her desktop, Minerva remembered the way the morning sun had touched his auburn hair to the colour of new-kindled fire.

“He’s powerful and we are ill prepared.”

Albus would be at the forefront of the fight of that she had always been certain. He had continued in a tone she had need strain to hear it was hoarse with such emotion.

“Ruthless. He will stop at nothing.”

His eyes had taken on a far-off gaze, in the light through the stained glass windows she had wondered how she ever thought them blue for clouded and lost in memories they were the colour of dusk on the wing of a dove.

“I cannot lose you, Minerva.”

His long fingers had trembled as they came up her arms to cradle her neck. Thumbs as soft as warm feather had traced circles upon her dry cheeks. Minerva did not cry, she did not know how to cry, instead she hid her pain deep inside, as deep as the dark secret place at the bottom of a well.

“Do you understand, Minerva? I cannot lose you.”

“You shan’t lose me, dearest. I’ll fight beside you. You need never be alone.”

He too had shifted to his knees and at her fierce vow had shaken his head and silenced her, first with his fingers soon followed by his lips.

“No, Minerva, no.”

Strands of his long hair had covered his face when he shook his head ardently. Those dimples she adored had been nowhere to be seen, veiled behind a mask of sorrow.

“Families are no longer safe. Women. Children. He will kill any I associate with.”

He had not need say the words ‘He will kill you’. Unspoken they were heard all the more loudly.

“We have two options.”

She had merely raised a regal eyebrow, beyond words.

“Not many know of our…us.”

They had never been able to define their relationship. To put into words something as fragile as what they’d had was a risk both had been unwilling to take. Actions speak louder than any words and at the time, stolen kisses confined to the shadows had been enough.

“We could keep it that way and at the end of the school year you could tell everyone that you are moving away, to America or…or even back to India. In reality you would be hidden under the Fidelus charm.”

The idea was so ludicrous she had not justified it with a response. All the while she had been fully aware that Albus had found her silence unnerving and so naturally, did nothing to ease his discomfort. Her influence had felt powerful.

“Your association with me would not only threaten your life but also extend to that of your family. To hurt you would be to hurt me. He will exploit any weakness possible.”

So she had become a weakness, a burden, a vulnerability – but was that not the reason those three words were not uttered? She had failed to continue to hold her tongue and so had expressed his shortcomings.

“There will be those who join you, their lives threatened, their families threatened. Do you expect each of them to cower in fear too? Not just anyone can perform the Fildelus charm, will you offer each of them equal opportunity?”

Her voice had grown louder as her anger had flared. Their hands were no longer clasped, Minerva had crossed hers tightly across her chest to hold the quilt in place – his focus was not to waver.

“Of course you won’t! It would be ridiculous. The entire wizarding world hidden, not just from muggles but themselves! And me? You would have me hide away, solely dependant on you, just for your own piece of mind? I never knew you to be so entirely selfish, Albus.”

He made to answer but she knew his reply, he need not play the martyr card.

“I can help! I will help! Do you not believe that I shall feel the same with you at the forefront of this battle? Why is it acceptable that you may risk your life but not I? Perhaps you should go into hiding just to appease me.”

Her voice had been shrill as she ended out of breath. They had both remained silent whilst she had collected herself, then in a more composed voice she had reminded Albus that he had spoke of two options.

“I won’t endanger you, Minerva. I simply cannot lose you! So…” He had taken a deep breath and she had made sure to hold his gaze. “It would seem that we are left with no other choice but to…to break it off.”

A small part of her could have almost believed he was joking but there had been something in his eyes, something hidden so deep that it would have been easy to miss, an intensity that told her he meant every word.

“And how is breaking up with me not losing me?”

“It would be best if this continued to remain a secret. For your safety.”

She had staggered from the bed, dragging the quilt along with her. Her legs had been unstable and her hands had shaken as she had gathered a robe about her. She remembered thinking that it was to be the last glimpse of her bare thigh he would ever see. Before slipping out of the door she had whispered one last sentiment.

“What is a war for if not to hold on to what we love?”

Minerva threw her quill aside and in an attempt to ease her headache, loosened her bun allowing several strands to break free. She leant back in her chair, took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. There were essays that needed marking before this evening, she had not the time for a headache and this particular one seemed not to be fading soon. With a barely audible sigh she softly massaged her temples.

His eyes had already held the shadow of farewell even before she had ever entered the room that last evening.

Glancing around, harsh reality came flooding back and she concluded that there was no refuge to be found in her study for it too had served as one of their safe havens for clandestine trysts. The fire had burned all the more intensly for being covered up. With hindsight, she now recognised that she was far too young to live a life confined to the shadows, shrouded in the complex conspiracy of lies and beguiling half-truths. She lacked the Slytherin touch of deceit and although she was by nature a private person, she still wished to share certain aspects of her life.

Memories played out before her eyes. The way Albus had banished each and every item upon her desk in an act of frenzied abandonment almost brought a giggle to her lips. She never did find her peacock quill.

It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.

That thought was followed by a sneer. Everywhere she turned she was surrounded by Albus. Whether she liked it or not, he was as much included in her life as the need to breathe. Was he finding the severance as hard as she? Though Minerva would hardly say she excelled in the twist of separation, with time she had come to realise that stolen kisses held not the prospects of a future. Minerva had not seen hide nor hair of him for several days but she had noticed that the last year had taken its toll upon him. Whether or not the odd strand of grey in Albus’ auburn was due to his efforts in the war or of their less than amicable parting she did not know.

Deputy Headmaster, Professor Kenny, had informed the staff at breakfast last week that the Headmaster would be absent for a few days and so they were to all pull together. It was not an unusual occurance, neither was it her place to question. As far as the world was concerned, indeed as far as Albus was concerned, she was no more than an employee, else he would have seen fit to inform her. Ever practical it was not a stretch of the imagination to conclude his absence was linked with the ongoing war.

Undoubtedly the Order of the Phoenix.

Minerva knew of Albus’ secret fighting force though it seemed from her quiet inquiries their leader had forbidden her to join. Nevertheless, she had her ways and was not without talent herself, so by nightfall, unbeknownst to most, she too would help in the war effort.

Minerva tried once more to return her attention back to marking but her headache seemed only to worsen so she reluctantly conceded a trip to the Hospital Wing was in order. She conjured a cool glass of water then carefully made her way to the infirmary. Minerva could not say she had taken an immediate liking to the new medi-witch, Madam Pomfrey. The young witch was perfectly polite, if not a little slow on the uptake, as Minerva found Hufflepuffs often to be.

Her heels click-clacked along the flagstone floor. With each step her head panged but she persisted with her confident gait, she knew little better, determination was her forte. On the fifth floor she greeted the stain glass depiction of Eloise – the entrance to a secret staircase leading to the second floor. She carefully passed Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, which had flooded again, and on the first floor almost bumped into an harassed looking Ogg carrying a bucket and mop. Finally rounding the corner and with the entrance in sight, Minerva paused by a window and with one hand upon the sill, took a deep breath determined to obtain a mild potion whilst answering as few questions as possible. A quick glance outside revealed an icy blue sky. When last they met his eyes were as that colour.

As blue as the sky on a frosty winter’s morning.

Minerva gave herself a mental chiding, smoothed down her robes, then carefully opened the squeaking door. The sky could be polka dot for all she cared!


A/N: Trying to get back into the swing of things. Unsuccessful? I would also like to take the time to thank all my other readers and to let you all know that I have not abandoned any of my other stories. I vow to update…one day.

[dianahawthorne]

This story is great so far - please continue!

Oh, and totally off-topic, but - I absolutely ADORE your icon!

[McGonagallsGirl]

That was nicely done. Swell, keep it up

[fallingmoon]

I like this so far. Keep up the great work.

[PiER]

Disclaimer: All belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling, I'm just playing with them.

Toothpaste Kisses

Chapter Two



The smell of strong Scourgify charms permeated the air as the doors to the Hospital Wing creaked open for Minerva. She steadied herself to the onslaught of past memories, letting them wash over her before she crossed the threshold into the infirmary. Cautiously she made her way passed the rows of empty beds, heels echoing across the hall, until reaching the office at the far end. A crisp knock and a cheerful ‘come in’ granted her entrance. The medi-witch beamed a smile and ushered Minerva into a cushy armchair before the roaring fireplace. Three small cauldrons were bubbling away, one emitting mauve smoke.

“Dreamless sleep,” she offered by way of explanation. Clapping her hands together the young witch beamed yet another smile. “Would you like some tea? Your arrival emboldens me to ring for some.”

Without waiting for an answer the medi-witch bounced out of her chair, pulled a cord hidden to the left of the fireside, then proceeded to rummage through the potions cabinet behind her desk. She returned with what Minerva recognised as a draught to relieve her headache. If Minerva was meant to be impressed by Pomfrey’s intuition, she wasn’t, instead wondering at her self-importance.

“Come now, Professor, you only ever frequent my infirmary when your stock is running low. In fact, I often wonder where you would turn if, Merlin forbid, something terrible were to occur and others were not around to insist you sought my help.”

Minerva swallowed the potion to gain time to formulate an adequate response. She absentmindedly conjured a glass, filling it with water, wandlessly – power rarely exhibited. Further evidence of her tiredness.

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey – ”

“ –Poppy, please. Now why don’t you sit back and await your tea?”

“I really must be getting back. I have forth year essays that must be marked before this evening.”

If Pomfrey was disappointed she did not show it for her cheerful countenance did not falter.

“Oh, yes, Flitwick’s birthday bash. Just what we need. A little laughter is good for the soul, especially in these hard times. So I can expect to see you there?”

Minerva was aware the witch saw her hesitate but before fully correcting her mistake, Poppy caught her off guard.

“Or shall you be off on search and rescue again tonight?”

Minerva’s eyes narrowed, surprise replaced by suspicion but Pomfrey remained oblivious if her smile was anything to go by.

“I have friends at St. Mungo’s.” She offered by way of explanation. “You must be tired, Professor, those long hours you are keeping.”

Minerva chose not to answer and remained silent even when a tea set arrived. She watched as the medi-witch poured them each a cup then made a show of settling herself back in her armchair.

“Might I inquire as to how your shoulder is healing?”

Was there no such thing as healer–patient confidentiality? Nosiness was another Hufflepuff trait Minerva looked upon with disdain.

“Quite well, thank you.” It was clear from Minerva’s curt tone that no further enquiries were welcome.

The medi-witch plowed on, once again seemingly oblivious to the chilling atmosphere.

“It will no doubt remain itchy for another month at least. New skin is not healed without a certain amount of discomfort. The Headmaster’s phoenix may be of help though.”

“I have no need for Fawkes’ tears and I would also appreciate it if you did not gossip about my health with others, including the Headmaster.”

Minerva further observed that again Poppy did not take offence and put it down to yet another Hufflepuff failure.

“Are you and Professor Dumbledore old friends?”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Yes.”

Minerva struggled not to frown as the few wisps of Pomfrey’s golden curls sticking out from under her hat bobbed as she nodded. Eagerness engulfed each and every one of the witch’s gestures.

“Then that is what we are.”

The case was closed and the tea drunk. With a polite parting Minerva was on her way with a half-hearted assurance of making an appearance at Flitwick’s party.

“Come on out, let your guard down, let your hair down, let your mother down.”

Evidently, Pomfrey knew nothing of her family history. Never would Minerva admit but she still awoke from nightmares. Cried out with strangled sobs. An increasingly larger part of her longed for a time when Albus would hold her firmly against him. Sometimes she wished that where her tears had soaked his nightshirt, through to his shoulder, there was a mortal wound. She hoped her tears had burnt his skin like tiny drops of lava, piercingly. He would deserve each twinge, for his heartache was nothing compared to her tortured soul.

[PiER]

Disclaimer: All belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling, I'm just playing with them.

Toothpaste Kisses

Chapter Three



Despite the many people milling around and the small titbits of information he had gleaned from them, Albus Dumbledore could focus but upon one thought.

A year ago to the day.

Standing by himself to one side he leant heavily upon the high mantelpiece, staring but not seeing the flames flicker before him.

A queen.

She carried herself like a queen, with lips as delicate as Professor Nettle’s most prized bloom. Often times, words may fall from them as sharp as blades – thorns that guard the petal.

Her complexion?

The finest meeting of lily and rose. Beneath his fingers her skin was that of silk, the underside of her arm being one of his favourite spots, where blue veins shadowed below her milk white visage – a delectable reminder of her mortality.

Her eyes the colour of secrets whispered in the darkest –

“Dumveldore.”

Whispered in the dar –

“Dumveldore, old vellow, a qvick vord iv you might?”

Lazar d’Eath, the newest member of the Order of the Phoenix. Storing away his musings of eyes the deepest shade of green, his thoughts were left briefly scattered and he pondered upon the faint trace of Lazar’s Baltic origins, detectable by the way his lips pursed around the letter ‘f’. The young man before him betrayed no emotion other than perhaps a twinge of reluctance.

“Certainly Lazar, all is well I hope?”

Albus was acutely aware of the covert glances they were receiving. Undoubtedly due to the d’Eath family’s close ties to the Transylvanian vampire coven. However, those connections had proven invaluable and with time, Albus was sure others would put prejudice aside to acknowledge and accept.

In answer to his question Albus received a mere nod, the man was understandably reluctant to reveal much of himself.

“And Delaney?”

Lazar had just recently married an Irish witch Albus had taught at Hogwarts. Delightful young thing of muggle heritage and for the briefest of moments Albus pondered upon the religious aspects, which no doubt arose, for if he remembered correctly, Delaney was a devout Catholic. She had been given permission to leave the grounds to attend mass each Sunday, and at first Headmaster Dippet had found it most inconvenient, as a member of staff was obliged to accompany the student each and every time. Luckily, in her second year, the new muggle studies professor was a religious woman whom attended mass herself. The matter was never mentioned again.

“Eagerly anticipating the new arrival?”

Again another nod. Though Lazar was not an emotional man, his eyes did seem to glow at the thought of his pregnant wife. A wave of guilt hit Albus at the thought of Lazar’s role within the Order. He was their optimistic liaison between themselves and the vampires, a position which would have him away from home more often than not.

“Perhaps ve might converse in the kitchen, Dumveldore?”

The recently concluded Order meeting had taken place in Benjy Fenwick’s flat, temporary charms and wards had been placed which would fall within twenty-four hours. Most members had remained to take advantage of the safe haven, a quick cup of tea between friends. Although he trusted them all, else they would not have been invited to join the Order, whatever it was Lazar had to say seemed destined for his ears only.

Together they made their way to the kitchen where Marlene McKinnon politely bid them a good evening before flooing away. Dumbledore waved his hand in the general direction of the door and the glow of an Imperturbable Charm was visible for the briefest of moments. Once again Albus turned his attention to Lazar. He was a young wizard, skin ghostly pale, with eyes the deepest of red. His long black hair had streaks of dark green running through, undoubtedly the height of fashion. Despite the mild weather, Lazar’s robes were dark and thick, though Albus knew him to reside in Cork, it was of course chilly in Eastern Europe.

“Won’t you sit down?”

Lazar eyed the proffered chair for some seconds before deciding to take a seat. Albus sat down opposite placing the table between them. Once again, Lazar was disinclined to speak but Albus remained calm.

“This var has you travelling a lot?”

Albus nodded his head affirmative. He had in fact just returned from a trip to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and would soon have to pay a visit to the Durmstrang Institute. During such harsh times it would prove important to uphold the alliance between the three leading schools of Europe.

“Your teachers…your school…is safe, is it not?”

“I trust my colleagues indisputably. As for those times when circumstances would have me absent, I always take precautions to safely secure Hogwarts. The students shall at all times come first.”

Albus was quick to grasp the implication although it was not expressed in so many words.

“Now, if you have heard differently, Lazar, it would be wise to say so.”

For all appearances Lazar seemed unfazed by Albus’ admonishment. If anything he continued with less reluctance.

“Vhen on my mission I bumped into an old acqvaintance.”

Lazar paused and Albus sensed it was on some level significant.

“Andrik Dolosus.”

Recently appointed Headmaster of Durmstrang, Dolosus came from a long line of pureblood wizards. His family prized themselves in composing the hierarchy of the wizarding world, closely related to not only Gellert Grindelwald but the likes of Cassandra Vablatsky, Nikolai Zamojski, the Gregorovitch family and the Dolohovs.

“I joined him vor a drink, however, he had to leave early due to a prior engagement. I shadoved him and discovered he vas dining vith – ”

Lazar faltered and Albus felt his red gaze upon him as if sizing him up.

“Your mistress of transvigoration.”

Relations stretching more closely to home – the McGonagall clan.

“I see.”

Albus did not see but he felt obliged to respond. Minerva was indeed closely connected, he recalled her mentioning her paternal grandmother being a Dolosus. Yes, she had even spoke of riding hippogriffs with Andrik and his brother, Maximus, when they were young. His head reeled with possible scenarios, each growing more ludicrous. The Dolosus had muddled in many a goblin war. However, Albus tried to reason, they were childhood friends, a drink with a cousin on the other side of the world.

“Vell, I have others to meet tonight, I should be going.”

“Yes, of course, Lazar. Thank you for this information.”

Albus rose along with Lazar and together they made their way to the door, cancelling the privacy charms as they went along.

“I really should be on my way too. I have been gone from Hogwarts for quite some time, it shall be nice to head back.”

Once outside in the hall young Dorcas Meadows tried to way lead him, citing something or another about last week’s attack and bumping into someone in St. Mungo’s but Albus must be forgiven for paying her little notice, thoughts consumed by one being. She had fared far better this past year. Pricklier perhaps but that was to be expected. His Minerva did not let others in easily, took him long enough to scale her walls. She would always be a sociable witch but in order to protect herself she kept most at arms length. Understandably so given the losses she has had to suffer. Unfortunately, in an effort to protect Minerva from more heartbreak he must add to her burden.

He would return to Hogwarts immediately, if only to ensure her wellbeing. As selfish at it may seem he needed to see his witch and perhaps coax her into letting a few gentle words slip past those rose lips.

[PiER]

Thanks for the very kind reviews and although it has been a while, I hope there are still a few readers out there.

Diana - Vote for Pedro!

[PiER]

Disclaimer: All belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling, I'm just playing with them.

Toothpaste Kisses

Chapter Four

On her second day at Hogwarts Poppy Pomfrey learnt a lifelong lesson. Her surname would hinder her lot in life. Being muggleborn she would struggle to rise above the ranks. Of course she disagreed with such prejudice but it was the way of the wizarding world. During her adolescence she had dreamt of a pureblood sweeping her off her feet. Now, years later, older and dare she say wiser, she knew that was not a bulletproof solution.

Hidden away at Hogwarts, Poppy had managed to forget the competitive ways of the wizarding world and just focus on what she loved – her need to help. She had also managed to escape the pomp and titles but in doing so had failed to realise just how prestigious her fellow colleagues actually were. Now, at Flitwick’s birthday party, surrounded by witches and wizards renown and far more accomplished than she, it was finally coming to light.

The elite were gathered and they all had blood ties.

Carefully batting away a fluttering fairy, Poppy sipped her drink and observed the game of portal in progress between Deputy Headmaster Kenny, seer Cassandra Vablatsy and quidditch player Joscelind Wadcock. She noticed Professor Kenny scratching his ear and knew he would be folding yet again. How much could a seer see?

“I haven’t lost quite so many coins since I foolishly challenged our transfiguration professor to a game.” The deputy chuckled.

“You should have done your homework, Professor. Cedrella took Min under her wing years ago.”

The voice came from Poppy’s left. A tall, dark-haired witch was fighting to hide a smirk behind her smoking cocktail.

“Emmaline!” Vablatsy’s eyes sparkled with delight. “It’s good to see you, dear.”

“Aunt Cassie, grandmother said she thought you’d be here.”

The two embraced and the young witch Emmaline conjured a stool to continue to watch the game.

“And how is Vesta keeping? I spoke to her only last week through the floo.”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of Emmaline’s lips.

“Quite well all things considered.”

Poppy tried not to eavesdrop but they were conversing quite openly.

“When you mentioned Cedrella, you weren’t referring to Cedrella Black were you, Miss Vance?” Was there a note of incredulity in Professor Kenny’s voice?

“The one and only.” There was no hiding Emmaline’s smirk this time. “How much did she take you for, Professor?”

The deputy’s cheeks had turned quite pink. “Not nearly as much as she could have, clearly.”

Even to a muggleborn it was well known that Cedrella Black had been quite the successful gambler back in the day and emptied many a Gringotts account along the way. Rumour had it that at one point she even owned Twilfit’s share of Twilfit & Tatting’s. Poppy recalled reading an article about how her glory days had ended only when Septimus Weasley had come along and domesticated her was how the journalist had phrased it.

After losing yet another round, Kenny excused himself stating he had no wish to go begging Dumbledore for another raise. Emmaline took his place and Poppy wandered on hoping the esteemed portal player herself, Minerva McGonagall, would deem to grace them with her presence.

Poppy was well aware of her inquisitiveness. Some may even say she was nosy. Her grandmother described her as a curious. However you phrased it Poppy liked to know a lot about everything. When it came to Minerva McGonagall she knew very little about the witch. Of course she had picked up on the subtle hints but Minerva was far from open and despite her best efforts she had had very little success in befriending her colleague.

She snagged another drink from a passing house-elf and once again cast her gaze about those gathered. A smile crossed her face at the sight of the guest of honour unsteadily posing for pictures. Two beautiful witches either side leaning in to kiss his rosy cheeks. She suspected there would be more than a few visits from fellow colleagues tomorrow. Luckily she had brewed a whole cauldron in anticipation.

“Can you imagine the scandal if the Board of Governors were privy to his dealings.”

“I’m sure they’ve already succumbed to his devilish charms. How else did he land his Hogwarts position?”

“And here I thought old Dumbledore had a soft spot for small statured wizards.”

Turning fully, Poppy cocked an eyebrow at the unfamiliar man. She was taken aback by how handsome he was. A flash of his pearly whites would make any woman weak at the knees.

“Axel Jupiter, how do you do?”

Shaking the proffered hand she barely managed to stammer her name.

“Pomfrey?” His brow creased in thought. “No, it doesn’t ring any bells.”

“I’m the medi-witch here at Hogwarts.”

Before she could explain further a long legged woman wound herself around Mr Jupiter. Leaning in close and caressing his chest the blond-haired beauty purred into his ear.

“Axell darling, must wee stay much longerr?”

Poppy’s gaze followed the path the lady’s hand made, starting just below Jupiter’s jaw line, down his chest and ending considerably lower. Mr Jupiter cradled the wandering hand and kissed the bejewelled knuckles.

“Madam Pomfrey, may I introduce Véronique D’argent? Vee this is Poppy Pomfrey, medi-witch of Hogwarts.”

The beauty turned and surveyed Poppy from head to toe and back up again. It was quite apparent that she was not pleased with what she saw. Poppy felt her cheeks go red, she had dressed in what she thought to be a pretty blue robe and had managed to tame her curls somewhat. However, it was clear that very few could hold a candle to Véronique D’argent. Obviously the woman was more veela than witch. Her robes clung to her body like that of a second skin.

“Enchanté.” The part veela offered the barest touch of her fingertips whilst Poppy fought the urge to curtsy.

Turning back to the wizard, D’argent whispered something in French. Jupiter’s answer must not have pleased her for the beauty flicked her flaxen hair over her bony shoulder, turned on her high heel and marched off.

“My apologies, my fiancé...”

Poppy tried to wave off his concerns but he persisted.

“She’s none too pleased with me at the moment. With good reason I suppose.” Jupiter ended with a sigh.

They lapsed into silence for some time until Jupiter seemed to come to himself and with a shake of his head he cast a dazzling smile in her direction once again.

“I’m sorry. She’s one of my many weaknesses,” he chuckled. “So Madam Pomfrey, how long have you worked at this fine establishment?”

Banishing her empty glass Poppy was unsure what to make of Axel Jupiter. Why was he standing in this corner conversing with her? He could have his pick of any witch or wizard, surely?

“I came to Hogwarts last Christmas, so almost a year and a half ago.”

“Settling in well? Dumbledore isn’t being too much of a bear, is he?” Jupiter wiggled his eyebrows comically.

“Never,” she giggled. “Everyone has been very nice and made me feel very welcome. Besides, Hogwarts hasn’t really changed that much since I was a girl.”

“No,” he agreed wistfully. “It never does.”

“Which house were you in?”

“The only one that counts.” He paused for dramatic effect with a devilish glint in his eye. “Gryffindor.”

“On behalf of Helga Hufflepuff I simply must protest.”

“Could be worse I suppose.”

Before she could respond to his teasing Horace Slughorn interrupted.

“Axel, Axel, Axel, haven’t seen you around these neck of the woods for quite some time.”

“Ah Horace, how are you, old chap?”

A great deal of male backslapping occurred and empty chit-chat until Slughorn said something which caught her attention if only for the unusual tone in which it was uttered. In all the years Poppy had known Slughorn she had never witnessed him quite so genuinely sympathetic.

“She’s been and gone, my friend. The finest bottle of crystal ice on the table. ’29 I believe.”

Jupiter heaved a great sigh and gave a half-hearted smile.

“I suppose it was a long shot. Her spies will no doubt have alerted her to my presence as soon as I set foot on British soil.”

If Poppy was not mistaken there was a hint of bitterness hidden in Jupiter’s self-deprecatory tone. Even more disconcerting, Slughorn grew more considerate. They both seemed to have forgotten her company.

“Actually I don’t think that’s the case this time.”

“No? Tell me, Horace, is she getting on well here at Hogwarts? Has she finally settled?”

His voice cracked on the last word so Slughorn placed a consolatory hand on Jupiter’s shoulder.

“She spends more nights than not away from the castle nowadays.”

Jupiter turned on Slughorn and held his arm tightly.

“He isn’t...? Tell me he hasn’t...? I swear if he’s...She’s chosen to live here! Work here. For all intents and purposes this is her home!”

“Calm down man,” Slughorn soothed. “You’re jumping the wand. No, no, I believe, though have not yet confirmed, Spear has recruited her.”

“Aloysius?”

From her vantage point Poppy could see the range of emotions play out upon Jupiter’s face. Confusion dawned to realisation, leading to disbelief and ending in anger.

“I’ll kill him!”

The rage bubbled through him as she witnessed tiny sparks of magic shoot from his fingertips. Who on Earth were they talking about? Slughorn held Jupiter by the lapels and negotiated in a forced whisper.

“No you won’t, Axel. There’s no need to act in haste. You know what Minerva is like, she has a will of her own.”

Poppy must have made a sound in the face of such an unexpected revelation because both wizards turned in her direction, piercing her with their gaze. Slughorn recovered first, clearing his throat and smoothing down the front of Jupiter’s robes. Jupiter took a few deep breaths then smiled apologetically, adorably ruffling the back of his head.

“Madam Pomfrey,” said on a cough. “Where are my manners? Forgive me, that is no way to behave in the presence of lady. Horace?”

“Yes, yes. Of course, Poppy please forgive us. Let us all just forget about it. Best not to mention it at all.” Slughorn was rambling.

She could but nod silently. Questions on the tip of her tongue she dare not ask. She snagged another drink from a passing house-elf and promptly gulped it down. The wizards swiftly excused themselves, each going their separate ways.

As the night wore on Poppy was introduced to various dignitaries, cousins, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters. Normally she would have loved mingling with the people she only read about in the magazines. To her they were another world, another species but for all she tried she could not shake the image of Jupiter so desperate, so angry; the suggestion that Minerva was avoiding him. Aloysious Spear? Slughorn? Minerva’s night-time excursions and trips to St. Mungo’s.

Poppy knew should leave well alone but she was haunted by a memory. It was well past midnight, two weeks after having moved back to Hogwarts, and feeling a little homesick and perhaps out of her element she donned her slippers and robe and decided to go for a walk about the castle. Her feet led her to the kitchens, a familiar sanctuary from her youth. She slipped quietly passed the portrait, not wanting to disturb any sleeping house-elves, only to come up short at the sound of voices. Keeping to the shadows Poppy spied them bathed in the light of a single candle. They were in love. There was no mistaking it. Minerva sat on the edge of the table smiling deep into the eyes of Albus Dumbeldore who had a hand either side of her on the tabletop trapping her close.

Poppy was shaken from her musings by the cheers that accompanied the arrival of the Headmaster. Standing back Poppy observed the wizard, he was polite and cheerful, greeting all but his eyes carefully took in his surroundings. He caught her watching and tipped his hat. It wasn’t until he caught sight of the bottle of crystal ice that his shoulders tensed and his forehead creased.

Poor Dumbeldore, how had they gone from candlelight kissing to...this?