A Convenient Fiction

[Hogwarts Duo]

Oh this was a great update. I've been looking for an update from you!

I would love to have seen Dippet's reaction to the rumpled sheets and the disarray of the bed...tee hee. No wonder he was flustered when he left.

Hope Albus doesn't have to 'go fishing' again and he'll realize just how wonderful Minerva is.

[Jaya]

I love the humor in this chapter as well as the practicality...

and I can't wait to read more!

You are doing great!

[TartanPhoenix]

The pace and character portrayals for this story are wonderful. Albus is a little dense which is a nice change from the constant all knowing attitude in fics. I can't wait for the next chapter.

[Ginger Newts]

I've only just found the time to sit down and read this story. It's excellent and I can't wait for more. I love the business-like way Minerva proposed and the little trick she played on both Albus and Armando in that last chapter. I can't wait till the bit when they both realise it's quite a bit more than a marriage of convenience. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next, update soon.

[durc09 arsed loging in]

need more please xxxxxxx

[Jessabelle]

I really liked the humour in this chapter! Update again soon!
- Jess

[sleepy mugglemin]

Hurray, another update! I do feel that you keep them in character well. There is not a slip or a fault that I could possibly point out. Nothing but praise for you.

[mcgonagallrocks]

Must have more.

[zyx]

Nar!
^_^
Awesome

[zoeteproet]

Ahahaha! I loved this chapter!
The way you mix humor with romance and some serious things is wonderful.
I want more ;D
Love,
Sarah xx

[morgan72uk]

A/N - thanks for the reviews. A couple of people asked when Minerva was going to wake up - so, I decided it was time she got a little nudge. Also, I might be taking slight liberties with Albus' backstory. Or not.

Part 6

Albus set aside the last of his marking just as the early autumn sun was setting. As he stretched and looked across his office the school grounds were bathed in glorious golds and peaches. He was tempted by the prospect by a walk – perhaps around the lake to take full advantage of the splendid evening – but he knew it wasn’t going to be possible.

He was, somewhat reluctantly, dressed in a very fine set of robes. Even though the first week of term was barely over, Armando had insisted that this evening there would be a small celebratory party – to celebrate the Governor’s confirmation that Albus would take over as Headmaster next June.

The formal announcement was some weeks off and he was glad of that. He was glad as well that this was an informal gathering – because it would also be the first time that either he or Minerva would be in the same place as those Governors who knew of their marriage. He’d been at the Governors’ meeting of course, though not while they discussed his appointment. But the meeting itself had prevented the Governors who knew the truth from approaching him. He wasn’t sure they would be so restrained tonight, although he could always hope.

There were other, more pressing matters on his mind. He had spent years carefully keeping track of those he viewed as potential threats to the hard won peace their world enjoyed. All the evidence he had so carefully gathered told him that something was stirring in the darkness – and he was worried about where that would lead. They had grown lazy and complacent – taking peace for granted in a way he had never thought possible in the years after the ravages of the last war.

“You look as though you are contemplating something particularly unpleasant,” a soft voice said from just beside him; Minerva had demonstrated her skill in sneaking up on people once more – he was sure her pupils found it a lot more annoying than he did. “It couldn’t be the prospect of this evening’s gathering – could it?”

“Actually I was thinking about a gathering darkness – and the threat to our peace and stability.” Minerva looked startled and then worried by his words. His immediate impulse was to be sorry that he had told her – but then, before he could leap into down playing his remark he recognised that while he didn’t want to burden her, he did want to share this with her. He wanted to know what her reaction was, what she thought.

“Is this at all linked to your fishing expedition?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in concern.

“When I go fishing it generally means I am looking for dark wizards, although I confess sometimes I genuinely do go fishing.”

“I don’t find that at all surprising.” She looked over at him, “you think something is happening, that someone is out there, like Grindelwald?”

“Perhaps not exactly like him – but yes, I think someone, or even several someone’s are out there and I think they would seek to impose their will on our world – and remove those who would stand in their way.”

“And I imagine that you would be one of the major obstacles?”

“I would certainly stand against them – I can only hope that I wouldn’t be alone in doing so.”

“I think you know that you wouldn’t be, or you ought to know.” The declaration of faith, however oblique was reassuring. “You don’t have to, you must not, do this on your own Albus. By all means chose carefully who you trust – but, you need help to gather evidence – to make sure our world heeds the warning. Don’t let’s make the same mistake as last time and leave it until it’s too late.”

“And if there is no real evidence – just the suspicions of an eccentric old man?”

“You’re not old!” She pointed out bluntly – forcing him to smile at the way she had completely failed to dispute his eccentricity. “If there is no evidence then I suppose we must watch and wait, which is what you’re doing anyway?”

“I always watch – and I’m grateful for your support. Although if my own wife won’t defend me from accusations of eccentricity then I don’t know what will become of me.”

“I suspect you’ll survive.” She frowned, “are you setting tests for me Albus Dumbledore? Trying to find out if you have my loyalty? If I can be trusted?” Her tone cut him and for the first time it occurred to him that in a way that was exactly what he had been doing. Not that he was going to admit it.

“I don’t need to set tests for you Minerva – you caught me in a weak moment, I obviously needed to share my troubles with someone. I think I chose my confident wisely, since once again you’ve exercised your devastating talent for cutting straight to the heart of the issue – and for reminding me that I’m not omnipotent. I suspect that was what I needed.”

“I didn’t mean to be suspicious.”

“Given what we have been talking about I don’t think you should be sorry for being suspicious.” He managed a small smile – but there was no disguising that he felt as though a great deal had happened between them in a very short time. Minerva’s expression was equally troubled and he was sure that had only been partially caused by his revelations.

“It matters that you felt able to share this with me Albus.” He nodded, wondering if she was going to say something else, but she let the moment pass. “Shouldn’t we be going? I don’t think it’s the done thing for the guest of honour to be late for his own party.”

“You’re right, as usual.” For the first time he looked at what she was wearing and his smile broadened. “Although I see you don’t feel the occasion merited a change of clothes?” Her expression became mutinous and her tone was very clipped when she replied.

“These robes are good enough to teach in, I’m sure they are acceptable for an evening with my fellow teachers and the Governors.”

“But it’s a special occasion, an evening in my honour.” He didn’t really care what she wore, but teasing her was by far the best part of his day so far. Signing she conceded the point.

“Fine, give me ten minutes, I’ll change…”

“That is one option, however if you were, for example, a Professor of Transfiguration you could just…” he waved his hand vaguely at her, not sure if he was risking her wrath as her practical teaching robes slid into something slightly less practical, in a far lighter shade of green.

“I could have done that myself,” she hissed.

“I don’t doubt it. Shall you change your hair, or will I?” The glare directed in his direction would have felled a lesser man but he simply smiled at her and watched over the top of his spectacles as she flicked her wand, changing her hairstyle from the normal severe bun into a far looser twist.

“I don’t understand your fascination with changing my hair style.”

“Don’t you my dear?” He took her arm in his and steered her out of the study, “it’s really very simple – your hair is quite beautiful and, although your everyday hairstyle is practical, when you’re not teaching I like to see you wear it differently.”

It wasn’t very often Minerva was at a loss for words – but this was clearly one of those occasions. She blushed, looked away from him and seemed quite unable to form a coherent sentence. Secretly he was rather pleased that this was her response to compliments, it made him think he might like to compliment her more regularly.

***
She was starting to realise what the muggle poet Dante had been writing about when he described circles of hell. Minerva hadn’t quite decided which particular circle she was in – nor for what crime she was being punished, but there was little doubt about her current location.

Albus was being no help at all. They had been separated as soon as they arrived at the party, she had been carried off to a quiet corner and was now being thoroughly cross-examined about her relationship with the Deputy Headmaster – by two of the few people who knew that she was his wife. For this she had no one to blame but herself, since she had been the one who had said it would be wrong to prevent the Governors in question from sharing the secret with their wives. Not that regretting the past was going to help her much now.

They made an incongruous couple of interrogators – the young, vapid Madam Vasavor, dressed in the latest fashion to a quite ridiculous degree and somehow still looking breath-taking and the older, elegant Madam Claybridge – whose sharp-eyed gaze seemed to miss very little. Between them Minerva was being thoroughly grilled. At least now she understood why Albus had insisted on such careful preparation. She looked across the room, trying to catch his eye – hoping desperately for rescue, but he was deep in conversation with Armando and Frederic Vasavor.

They had stopped asking her questions about the wedding, unfortunately instead they were now going through the history of her husband’s past romantic liaisons – which was information she definitely didn’t need to be privy too. She hadn’t realised that Albus’ life had been so public, so speculated upon. No wonder he had retreated to Hogwarts.

She knew about his marriage of course, although throughout their years of friendship he had seldom, if ever, referred to it. He’d been a widower for a long time but she’d always assumed he’d had relationships in the intervening period, even though she was relatively certain there had been no one in recent years. But, there was no need for her to hear the details about his past – or even worse to hear speculation about what the details might be.

“And your point is…?” She said sharply, interrupting Madam Claybridge as she explained that no one really knew what had gone on between the hero who had defeated Grindelwald and the beautiful widow of the French resistance leader – but everyone had agreed they had been very close.

“That you aren’t anything like any of the others.” Well, she’d asked for that. She looked across the room again, this time finding that Albus was watching her, his eyes filled with concern.

“In what way?”

“Well, his other women,” Minerva frowned and didn’t let her finish.

“I’m sorry, I may not have been completely paying attention, but from what you've just been saying I gathered that between his wife’s death and now Albus has been involved with four, possibly five women. You don’t have to make it sound as though it’s a harem.” Madam Claybridge didn’t look remotely bothered by her interruption – in fact if anything her smile became somewhat smug, as though Minerva leaping to defend her husband was exactly what she had been hoping for.

“Well, no matter the exact number, you are more than capable of looking after yourself, as you have just so aptly proved. The other women were all somewhat fragile.” For a moment Minerva had no response – but fortunately she didn’t need to find one.

“But, I suppose she is young. At least in comparison to him.” Madam Vasavor wasn’t used to not being the centre of attention for this long. She wrinkled her beautiful nose delicately – as though regretting applying the term ‘young’ to anyone so much older than she was. “Men can be rather vain,”

“Yes, they can.” Minerva made sure voice was a drawl of not so subtle innuendo and a beat after she had spoken flicked her gaze towards Frederic Vasavor, making it abundantly clear which of them she was implying was the trophy wife. The exit in response was a well-practised flounce, leaving Minerva feeling almost sorry for her husband. Almost. She glanced at her remaining companion – who was looking even more amused.

“You definitely aren’t fragile.” Madam Claybridge murmured, “that was so clear an insult even she understood.” She looked over towards Albus, her expression softening, “I’ve known him for a long time, despite his vaunted intelligence he does have a tendency towards the chivalrous. He likes to rescue people – women especially. I’m amazed he’s had the sense to marry someone like you, even under the current circumstances. He needs an equal – or, failing that, someone who doesn’t need his protection. You’ll do.”

Before Minerva could respond she found herself on her own. She remained in her corner as conversation buzzed around her, occasional words or phrases leaping out more clearly. When she had first arrived at the party all she had wanted was some peace and quiet to think about what she had been told about a dark wizard on the rise, about Albus’ role in discovering this.

Now that she had a few moments to herself all she could think about was Madam Claybridge’s parting comment. She had no idea if any of it had been true. And, in an odd sort way it had been a compliment, she knew she could look after herself, she’d been doing so for a very long time.

But, the knowledge that she wasn’t the sort of woman Albus traditionally became involved with had affected her in an entirely unexpected way. She wasn’t jealous exactly, but she was unsettled. It shouldn’t matter to her in the slightest, she shouldn’t care. But she did.

TBC

[EloquentPhoenix]

She wasn’t jealous exactly

We'll see

I love this story, they're waking up! And are less blind, well, to their own feelings, still to each other's I'd have thought. Update soon, I always enjoy this story.

[Trulyamused]

Oh, I love it.

Great part.
More soon please.

Truly

[Hogwarts Duo]

I love the interaction between Albus and Minerva before the party. I think it shows that they're both trusting yet still a bit reserved with each other. And Minerva's discussion with those other women seemed to open her eyes a bit to the possibilities of life with Albus.

Great update.

[deirdre]

Yet another fantastic update! Can't wait till the next part.

[Sensiblyquirky]

I'm glad the comments from the women seemed to unsettle Minerva, now we need to unsettle her and Albus even more! I love how you are handling this fic, keep up the good work.

Christy

[tanja]

slowly but surly their raltationship deevelopes ;D I´m glad

[avadagypsy]

Wow! I always get so excited when you update this fic!!!
I love the pace at which their relationship is developing - very believable and not to cheesy! haha! Cant wait for the next installment!

[Isabelle]

Nice! I'm going to jump on the bandwagon and agree with what has been said previously. I'm glad the women's comments gave Minerva causes to ponder exactly what she feels for Albus. I hope you continue soon!

Liz

[zoeteproet]

I can't agree more with Isabelle!
Those two women where very curious, but I'm very grateful to them that they made Minerva realise she has feelings for Albus!
I hope the next chapter will be some fluff ;D *bad bad me*
Love,
Sarah xx

[EarthyGrl]

Wow, that totally blew me away. Continue on!

[blackstar]

please write more soon. I can't wait.

Well done

[Gemmie Lou]

i need more, more and then some more!!!! xxxxxxxxxxxxx

[ismaco]

I don't know why I didn't read this before... is absolutely AWESOME!
I can't wait to read more... PLEASE UPDATE SOON!

Isabel

[Nerweniel]

And Minerva starts to see the light at last . Great chapter, dear, hope to see more soon .

Love,

Lies

[EarthyGrl]

Way to go!

[Jessabelle]

I love this story so much. I loved how you showed Albus in a brief moment of weakness and how you had Minerva handle herself while under interrogation from the other wives. PLease update again soon!
- Jess

[Caoilinn]

I love the character development in this story. The premise is also interesting--a bit different than one would presume their marriage began. Keep up the good work!

[ginger newts]

Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I love the way Minerva cut that other young wife down and the words from the older woman were an excellent way to get her thinking. I do hope they both realise soon that they want more than a marriage of convenience. Update soon!

[morgan72uk]

A/N - you know, I am not entirely sure this was the chapter I intended to write. Still, whatever works right? Thanks for the reviews and continued interest in the story.

Part 7

Minerva stretched as she pushed the book she had been reading aside. As she looked around her she was dismayed to learn it had grown dark outside, leading her to the conclusion that she had spent the whole of the afternoon in the library. It was a cold and wet Sunday, just a few weeks before Christmas – so her inclination to venture outdoors had not been very great. Still, she hadn’t intended to spend the remainder of her weekend poring over old and increasingly esoteric texts.

Perhaps she should have expected her research to come to naught; perhaps there simply were no answers to her questions. But as the weeks passed, at odd moments when her mind was not occupied by other things, she had found herself dwelling on the powerful flash of light at her wedding ceremony. People might find it odd that she was researching her own wedding ceremony – especially after it had already taken place - but her curiosity had got the better of her.

This was the first opportunity she’d had to devote any real time to the subject and everything she had come up with so far was frustratingly vague. As far as she could tell the flash of light did portend something – and whatever the something was, it had power, but that was it. Not the best use of her afternoon. She’d never enjoyed divination; she preferred logic, systems and patterns to portents and omens. She was prepared to concede that there were such things as genuine seers, but she was equally clear that she hadn’t met many of them.

She rolled her shoulders – wincing as she felt the stiffness in them. Packing away her books it occurred to her that the greatest wizard of his generation, possessor of mysterious powers, defeater of the dark wizard Grindelwald and, incidentally, her husband might be able to help. Her attempts to get him to discuss the subject had been fruitless so far; he was being vague and mysterious. But then Albus was frequently vague and mysterious – he was a man who could make a puzzle out of the simplest things.

She was sure she could ask, but she wasn’t convinced that if she did she would get any sort of answer out of him. Experience had taught her that he was more likely to give information when you already had most, if not all, of the pertinent facts at your disposal. Besides, there were other questions on her mind that only he could provide the answer to – the ceremony would wait a little longer.

Several hours later, with a late supper inside her, a glass of wine at her elbow and the prospect of another chess victory before her - she eyed the subject of her speculations warily. Albus, she had learnt, was very much like a game of chess, one needed to find the right strategy and even then the outcome was unpredictable.

“Checkmate,” she said making her final move and seeing the flicker of amusement in his eyes as he realised the trap she had so carefully lured him into.

“Your strategising would make a Slytherin blush,” she decided that was probably a compliment.

“I’m fairly sure that snakes don’t blush.”

“Very true my dear, have we time for another game? I’d like to try to salvage some of my dignity.”

“Actually I thought we could talk for a little.” Their eyes met and she made herself look steadily back at him until he asked,

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” She curled herself into the chair she most often occupied in his study. The room was silent save for the crackling of the fire - Albus was very good at using silence, but this was a subject she had been wondering about since the conversation she’d had with the Governors’ wives. “I just wondered, I mean it’s not something you talk about, I know it’s not any of my business but…” she stopped, annoyed at herself for stuttering.

“Under the circumstances I’d say it was very much your business.” She knew he hadn’t read her mind, she trusted him to respect her privacy. But, sometimes Albus knew things without needing to be told and this was clearly one such occasion. “You want to know about my marriage, my first marriage?”

“I suppose I do. You don’t have to tell me though.”

“I know I don’t have to – however, I can choose to tell you.” He was silent briefly; fingers pressed together, eyes far away. “I’m sure you’ve heard the essentials of the tale. When people write about me they generally mention that I was married to a muggle. Well, I met Penelope when I was very young, when we were both very young, I was 25 – she was barely 20. Her father had died two or three years earlier, leaving Penelope and her mother with very little money. When I first met her she was living with the family of one of her father’s friends, they were rather wealthy and Penelope was a companion to their daughter. I was in Oxford to further my studies in alchemy and, somehow I was invited to a party she attended. I fell in love with her almost at once – she was very beautiful – like a Princess, but she was also quiet and shy. We were married a few months after that first meeting and were together until her death 25 years later.”

“She didn’t know anything about magic and our world when you first met her?”

“No. To be honest she was never entirely comfortable with wizards and witches and she preferred the muggle way of doing things. She remained very much a woman of her time and up-bringing. We were happy despite that, or perhaps because of it.”

“Is that why you never re-married?” She could hardly believe that she had asked the question and somehow it was important that she had not added “until now.” Hearing him talk about his marriage had made her realise just how different their current circumstances were.

“Not exactly. It isn't loyalty to her memory that kept me from remarrying, until now, but rather the insight our time together gave me. I’m not the young wizard who rescued the princess from a life of drudgery and poverty anymore. I don’t want the same things I wanted in my youth and, even if sometimes I want them, I know enough to realise they aren’t good for me.” Minerva was reminded of the conversation she’d had with Madame Claybridge and she wondered how much he knew about his reputation.

“I’ve always assumed your life was the epitome of balance,” she said with a lightness she didn’t feel, “and now here you are, apparently dispelling all of those myths.”

“I suspect you’ve never believed me that perfect Minerva, after all you’ve seen my filing system.”

“Albus, you know very well that the way you store documents is hardly worthy of the term system.”

The banter was familiar, safe – but still the moment was edged with danger. How did she keep finding herself in these situations with him? For years their friendship had been comfortable and now, suddenly, in a matter of months it had grown in depth and intimacy – but also in complexity. It had been years since she had felt this close to anyone and while she treasured this new aspect of the friendship, she knew that she would only need to recall this conversation to remind herself that a friendship was all it could ever be.

The more she understood him, the more enigmatic he became and yet within the mystery there were tantalising glimpses of what it might be like to be wanted by him. She thought a relationship such as the one he would demand was beyond her now, she didn’t have the trust or the heart for it, for the fight it could so easily become. But, the complexities, the honesty, the moments when you were at the centre of his attention could make the struggle worthwhile. Knowing yourself beloved by him might just be enough comfort for all of the times when the rest of the world demanded his time.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly, after all she had been given the information she had sought – it wasn’t his fault that it had made her a little melancholy.

“Will you return the confidence and answer a question of mine now?”

“What is the question?” she responded – careful, always careful.

“I was wondering if you would tell me about the man who broke your heart.”

He saw her flinch at his question and had to make his gaze remain calm – the question had been plaguing him of late, but he wasn’t sure what he would do if she told him that someone had hurt her.

Her sadness had always fascinated him. It was a part of her and yet, it never came even close to defining her. It lingered at the edges of her personality – like a ghost too stubborn to move on. He wondered if she even realised how little effect it had on her now, how peripheral it had become. He suspected she held onto it because it was familiar, not because it mattered.

“Why do you assume that’s what happened?” She wouldn’t meet his eyes and her fingers plucked at a loose thread on her robes. As he pondered how to answer that she almost smiled, “I suppose that’s a somewhat foolish question to ask you.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, echoing her earlier remark, yet even as he spoke he knew that she wouldn’t let herself back away from this now that he had asked.

“It’s not a secret Albus, it’s just not something I enjoy discussing.” A flicker of strong emotion passed through him and apparently this time he did a bad job of concealing it because Minerva reached out to touch his hand. “Not because of something terrible, I promise it’s not that. I just don’t like to be reminded of failures.” She took a breath and moved her hand away, making him miss the warmth.

“It’s not a very unusual story; while I was involved in my post-doctoral research I became involved with a man, I loved him, he said he loved me. But, either he didn’t, or after some time had passed he fell out of love with me. As you can imagine neither of those are very comfortable options for me to contemplate. It’s easier for me to remember that neither of us was very happy with where our lives were – I was tired of research and he felt that he had made the wrong choices in his career. Neither of us was much help to the other – we seemed to be unable to talk about what really mattered. When his feelings changed he should have ended things between us, but he lacked the courage. Instead he pushed me away, I think he had some idea of killing my love for him – but actually it just made me more desperate to reach him. But, in the process it damaged how I feel about myself and it made me feel rejected. Eventually I realised that I would never change how he felt – so I ended things. Very shortly afterwards he met someone else – they’re still together as far as I know.”

This was a case when the delivery was as important as the content. Minerva spoke with the same dry precision she used while teaching, but Albus could tell that it cost her to sound so dispassionate. “I’m sorry,” he offered and she inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“It was a long time ago – it feels almost like a different lifetime.”

“But you haven’t forgotten it.” He deliberately didn’t make it a question.

“No. I didn’t like how vulnerable and desperate I became – I know that to love requires vulnerability – but I don’t think that love should require you to debase yourself.”

“I don’t believe it does, if it really is love. There should be vulnerability there, but strength as well.”

“I’ll defer to your greater knowledge on the subject,” she said dryly and then she added, “I decided that I couldn’t go through such pain again, it’s fortunate that I’ve never been someone who needed a relationship to make me feel complete.”

There was a warning there and Albus knew that if she thought for a single moment that he felt sorry for her she would run away and likely never return. But, he didn’t feel sorry for her. He was angry with the man who had done this to her, angry enough to make it a good thing that he had no idea of his identity. Yet there was a strange sort of gratitude as well, since he knew that if the relationship had not ended or if she had met someone else, their friendship would never have become so close.

He agreed with her description of herself as someone who didn’t need another to make her complete. Minerva was one of the most self-reliant people he knew, far more so that he. Rather like her animagus form, she chose carefully who she gave her loyalty and friendship to; which made both a prize of great value.

She didn’t need him. She had told him about what happened to her and had asked nothing of him. There were no tears, little bitterness – he had absolutely no impulse to rescue her, to save her from her self-imposed isolation, the very idea seemed absurd.

Which made it all the more complicated that it was suddenly entirely clear to him that he was in love with her. He was in love, with his own wife, and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

The feeling had crept up on him, taking him completely by surprise. His first marriage had determined the pattern of his subsequent relationships for so many years, until he had wearied of being needed, of being the rescuer, the strong one. He didn’t want a princess who he had freed from a tower, he wanted a lover who could be his equal; he wanted intelligence, fierce independence and the kind of passion that only grew from someone who loved with both her head and her heart. In short he wanted the woman sitting before him.

TBC