Resolving a Misunderstanding (complete)

[esoterica1693]

Don't have anything to say beyond what others have already said--GREAT chapter! Albus' wistfulness brought tears to my eyes. And when Minerva says that anything that he needs that she can give him is his--oh, what must have been going through his head! If he could only tell her what he needs from her! And she him! C'mon Albus--so close....you can do it! :-)

I think that putting Quin, Minerva and Albus in the same place when he comes for his tour is going to lead to some interesting insights...Quin is bound to pick up on what's going on. If he can only convince one or the other of them to ACT!

[MMADfan]

Note: Thank you, everyone, who commented on the last chapter! I'm so glad you're still with me and enjoying the story! Of course, the fluffy moments in the previous chapter were rather nice . . . . ;D

The chapter is slightly too long, so it's posted in two parts.

LXXXV: First-Name Basis

Determined to remain useful to Albus, Minerva went to the window and checked the owl box. There were a few more letters, including one from Professor James. Minerva opened it and read it quickly. He would be arriving late that night, probably after midnight. Before she met Professor Flitwick, she would speak with Hagrid about being available to open the gates. During the summer, the gates were shut and locked tight at midnight. Those still in residence were given a password to unlock them, but James had left early enough that he likely didn’t know it. Hagrid would have to open it with one of the large, Charmed keys he carried on the heavy ring at his waist. They were normally Ogg’s responsibility, but Ogg had not yet returned from holiday. She hoped he had received his owl.

Minerva sat at Albus’s desk and organized his post again. After considering it a moment, she began to go through his Hogwarts correspondence, sorting it into letters she thought needed his direct attention and those that could be handled by Gertrude – or someone else. Perhaps if Gertrude left after the meeting the next day, she should ask Albus if she could take care of it for him. Most of it was quite routine. She could at least draft replies for his approval. That would save him some time.

She began to write a reply to one of the letters when she felt a strange tingle. She looked up and saw nothing out-of-the-ordinary, so returned to her writing. As she was finishing up the paragraph, she heard a knock at the door, which then opened, and Gertrude stepped in.

“Good evening, Minerva.” Gertrude nodded at her, looking as though it were perfectly normal to enter the Headmaster’s office to find the Transfiguration Mistress sitting behind his desk.

Minerva stood hastily, pushing her letter aside. “I was just . . . sorting through Professor Dumbledore’s letters. Trying to help.”

Gertrude quirked a half-smile. “I had no thought that you were doing anything other than being helpful, Minerva. I’m glad. I am sure Albus will appreciate it, as well.” She looked around. “Where is Albus? Upstairs?”

Minerva fought the urge to stand at the bottom of the stair and bar the way to the other witch.

“Yes. He seemed tired. He is resting. I said I would fetch him when Professor Slughorn arrives. He should be here already.” Minerva frowned at the older teacher’s unpunctuality.

“Good. I am glad you managed that.” Gertrude sat down in one of the armchairs. “Why don’t you and I talk while we wait?”

Minerva didn’t particularly feel like talking with Gertrude at that moment, and an invitation to talk always seemed ominous to her, at least coming from someone like Gertrude – though precisely what she meant by “someone like Gertrude,” Minerva couldn’t have said. Nonetheless, she stepped around the desk and joined the older witch.

“How is Professor Pretnick?”

“Depressed. I decided to Apparate to St. Mungo’s and not just make a Floo-Call. I am glad I did. The man is convinced his life is over and it would have been preferable if he had been killed.”

Minerva hardly knew what to say to that, particularly given her own thoughts on the matter earlier in the day. “I suppose that’s understandable.”

“The Healers say it is typical. If the new werewolf can make it through the first few cycles, he generally resigns himself to his fate, but until then, despair is common. It is especially hard on Robert since, as a Muggle-born, he has no wizarding family. He feels he has nowhere to go when St. Mungo’s releases him.”

“Will that be soon, do you think?” Minerva didn’t know whether it would be better or worse for Pretnick to return to the castle until he made other arrangements, if he weren’t going to be on staff anymore.

“It will be at least a week, possibly more. His wounds were dreadful, even if they weren’t lycanthropic. It will take him a while to heal.”

“I realise that you and the Headmaster have been to see him, but is he allowed visitors? Ordinary ones? I thought I might try to see him.”

“I believe so. He says he doesn’t want visitors, but he hasn’t refused us entry once we arrived. I think he would be pleased to see a friendly face, Minerva, and someone whom he didn’t believe was visiting him out of a sense of professional obligation, which is how he described our visit.”

“That doesn’t sound at all like Pretnick,” Minerva said, concerned. “He’s not particularly extraverted, but he seems generally friendly and cheerful.”

“He has been through a traumatic experience, one that hasn’t ended – one that won’t ever end, really.” Gertrude looked out the window at the gradually darkening sky. “Where is that man? It must be past eight-thirty already,” she said crossly.

“I tried to emphasise the importance of getting here as early possible,” Minerva answered, knowing that Gertrude was referring to the Potions teacher.

“Not your fault. Just the way he is.”

At her words, there came a rapping on the door. The two witches stood, and Gertrude opened the door.

“Speak of the devil, they say, Sluggy. Where’d you come from, anyway, that you couldn’t be here on time? Well, get in here!”

Minerva almost chuckled out loud listening to Gertrude scold Slughorn.

Gertrude turned to Minerva. “Minerva, if Albus is still available to see Professor Slughorn, let him know he has arrived.”

Minerva nodded, realising that Gertrude was speaking for the Potions Master’s benefit, not hers or Dumbledore’s. “I will see.”

She started up the stairs and heard Slughorn give a snort when she safely made it past the sixth step. “Now why won’t he do that for me?”

Minerva heard Gertrude answer Slughorn. “Because not only are you not a lady, Horace, you are rarely even a gentleman!” The witch’s tone was light, however, and Slughorn laughed.

“A better gentleman than me you’ll not easily find!”

As she opened the door to Albus’s sitting room, Minerva could hear Gertrude answer the Slytherin wizard, but couldn’t make out her words.

In the dimly lit room, she could see Albus lying on the settee, long legs stretched out, feet dangling off the edge. Minerva approached quietly so as not to startle him.

“Albus! Albus!” Minerva placed a soft hand on his cheek and stroked his hair. “Albus, it’s Minerva. Time to wake up, dearest.”

Albus’s eyes opened and he blinked. “From one lovely dream to another,” he murmured sleepily.

Minerva smiled, removing her hand, and answered, “No, no dream. I hate to wake you, but Professor Slughorn has finally arrived. Did you have a nice nap?”

Albus stretched slightly and sat up. “Yes. I think I fell quite deeply asleep, in fact.” He yawned. “I need to use the loo. Could you ask him to wait? Oh, is Gertrude there?”

“Yes, she is. She visited Pretnick again. She’ll tell you about it herself, I’m sure. I will have them both wait. You take your time, Albus. Slughorn certainly took his.”

Back in the Headmaster’s office, Minerva told the others that Albus would be joining them shortly. When Slughorn said he was parched, hinting broadly that he should be offered a drink, Minerva and Gertrude looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Minerva smirked.

“Wilspy!” Minerva called.

“Yes, Professor Minerva, ma’am,” said the little house-elf when she popped in.

“We would all like some tea, please. One pot of regular, one pot of chamomile would be nice, I believe, don’t you Gertrude?” Minerva asked, turning to the older witch.

“It sounds perfect to me, Minerva.”

“Very good, Professors!”

Wilspy Apparated away just as Slughorn was saying, “Tea? I never said anything about tea. A spot of firewhisky, perhaps, or some elf-made wine – ”

“Either – or both – of which you may have in your rooms after our meeting, Horace,” Gertrude said with a slight smile.

Slughorn pouted slightly, but settled down in his chair to wait for the tea and for Albus.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Part Two of Two.

LXXXV: First-Name Basis, continued

Ten minutes later, Slughorn sat, hands folded across his stomach, his eyes wide, as he listened to Albus describe the attack on Professor Pretnick. Albus emphasised the Defence teacher’s heroism in saving the woman and her children, for the first time naming the family he had rescued.

“Higgs?” Slughorn asked. “You mean the boy was young Bertie?”

Minerva had heard of Bertrand Higgs, of course, as he was a Beater on the Slytherin House team, but she hadn’t taught him, as he had been a sixth-year and in Albus’s Transfiguration class.

“Yes, one of the members of your House, Horace. The boy was quite brave, himself. He could have fled, but he stood firm and attempted to defend his mother and younger sisters. He’d placed himself between the werewolf and his family. The werewolf was leaping on him just as Robert got off the first spell, knocking her down and drawing her attention to him. Bertie was going to stay, but Robert shouted at him to pick up his youngest sister, only four, and bring her to safety. His mother is in late pregnancy and his other sister only eight. The boy did as he was told, but then he ran back to help Robert, arriving just in time to see the werewolf sink her teeth into Robert’s leg. It was only when the miserable creature turned to attack the boy that Robert cast a killing hex, slicing open the werewolf’s throat before she could leap on Bertie and either infect him or kill him.”

“Is he all right, then? Bertie, I mean?” Slughorn asked agitatedly.

“Yes, yes, the boy is fine, as is his family,” Albus answered.

“And Robert? Is he . . . did he survive?”

“He survived, yes,” Albus said patiently.

“Poor Robert. Poor fellow.” Slughorn shook his head. “So that is why you called us here? To tell us of poor Robert’s fate?” At Albus’s nod, he asked, “But why tell me now?”

“You mentioned to me sometime ago that Damocles Belby was doing some experimentation, trying to find a cure or a treatment for lycanthropy. Do you know of his progress?”

“Yes, that was going to be his special project for his Potions Mastery, but he ended doing something else rather different. He is still working on it, of course. Become something of a bugbear for the fellow, but I don’t believe he’s come up with an effective treatment yet. A few of his early subjects died, which is why he didn’t pursue it for his Mastery – doesn’t look too good to have one’s subjects die on you, don’t you know,” he said jovially, looking around at the others. At the expressions on their faces, he added hastily, “Willing volunteers, they were. They were aware of the risks. And werewolves have a shorter lifespan, in any event. Er, hum, yes, but I was saying, hmm, yes. Last I heard, he had come up with a potion that is effective at putting the werewolf into a deep sleep during the transition with no ill effect on the subject – unlike the Draught of the Living Death, which, as you no doubt are aware, was tried several decades ago and kills the werewolf in midtransition. Slows down the bodily functions too much, and the transition is too powerful and ends up killing the subject.”

Minerva shivered. She didn’t like the way that Slughorn described the poor souls as “subjects,” although that was what they were, she supposed. And the cavalier way in which he mentioned the deaths among them . . . cold. Typically Slytherin, she thought. But Bertie, of course, was Slytherin, and he had showed some pluck, especially coming back to help Robert. And Gertrude had looked as disturbed by Slughorn’s dismissive mention of the deaths as she herself had felt. Perhaps there were a few decent ones, she thought grudgingly.

“Could you contact him, posthaste, Horace, and ask him for an update on his research? Don’t tell him more than you believe absolutely necessary, however. Although this will likely be noticed in the newspapers before the next full moon, I would like Robert to have as much time undisturbed as possible.”

“Of course, Albus. I will do so immediately. He may have something that will make the affliction easier for Robert to bear.”

“If he does, we will acquire it for him. I’d like it best if you were to brew it for Robert, Horace, but if Belby will not part with the formula, then we will put him on commission. No experimental potions, however. Only ones with which he has had some success and knows are not dangerous to the patient.”

“Right, right you are, Albus.” He fiddled with the gold watch chain that spread across his stomach. “I suppose I should go now, write that letter.”

“Thank you, Horace – and may I have a copy of the letter for my records, please?” Albus said with a genial smile.

“Naturally. I’ll give it to you tomorrow at breakfast, shall I?” Horace rose, as did Minerva.

“I had better go now, as well, Professor. I need to speak with Hagrid and then stop at the gates for Professor Flitwick,” Minerva said, addressing Albus.

Albus smiled at her. “Very good, my dear. Thank you for taking care of Filius for me.”

“Filius Flitwick? The duellist?”

“Yes, as you would know if you hadn’t fallen asleep during the last meeting of the Heads of House,” Gertrude said icily, “Professor Flitwick will be teaching Charms in the fall, replacing Professor Dustern.”

“Oh, yes, yes, I remember now! Nice little chap,” Slughorn blustered. He turned to Minerva. “Come along, dear, walk an old wizard downstairs.”

Minerva disliked the Potions Master’s ingratiating smile, but nodded politely, then turned to the other two. “Good night, Professor Gamp, Professor Dumbledore.”

When Slughorn motioned for her to proceed him down the stairs, she demurred, saying very softly, “Age before beauty, Professor.”

The older teacher blushed, but stepped onto the moving stair. Minerva just didn’t like the thought of him standing behind her, breathing on her neck, possibly bumping her “accidentally” from behind. He had never actually tried anything with her, but ever since Minerva had returned to teach, she hadn’t liked the way he looked at her, particularly on those few occasions when she wore something slightly more revealing than her typical school robes. She doubted he’d actually do anything, but being “appreciated” by someone as unctuous as Slughorn was unpleasant enough, even if he never actually did or said anything overtly.

He had behaved the gentleman thus far, however, and Minerva felt slightly bad at having made her remark, so as they rode the stairs all the way down to the second floor, she asked pleasantly, “Have you been having a good holiday, Professor?”

“Very nice, indeed. Visiting my niece at the moment. She is to be married in two days time. I’m giving her away. I’m trying to help her through the pre-wedding nerves all brides seem to get, don’t you know,” he said, turning his head and smiling at Minerva.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to have him go ahead of her after all, Minerva thought, as their relative positions put him at eye-level with her breasts. However, he was looking up at her face, so Minerva just smiled back and said, “So I’ve heard. What of her mother and father?”

“Father killed in the war about a dozen years ago. My sister, her mother, is poorly, and so I have taken on the role of father and mother for the dear girl.”

“I am sure she is grateful, Professor.”

His pale brown eyes met hers. “I do hope she is. She wasn’t keen on my leaving tonight, anyway. You know, Minerva, you may call me ‘Horace’ when there are no students about. We are colleagues, after all.” He flashed his straight, white teeth at her again.

“Of course, thank you . . . Horace,” Minerva said, hoping this was not a prelude to an invitation to some other intimacies.

As they reached the bottom of the long stair and the door opened in front of them, Slughorn said, “So, Minerva, do you have time for a drink before your errands? I have a rather lovely Bordeaux I’ve been considering uncorking. I am sure we could get the house-elves to bring us some nice aged cheeses to go with it.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but I must be about my duties,” Minerva said, as they began walking down the stairs to the ground floor. “And I wouldn’t want to distract you from yours, either, Horace. I know how much you want to write that letter to Belby tonight.”

“Of course, of course.” He smiled toothily. “Perhaps some other time. You should come to my next soiree.”

“Perhaps. Good night, Horace.”

Minerva turned toward the main doors and tried not to hurry as she crossed the entrance hall. She heard the Potions Master walking toward the stairs leading to the dungeons, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She really didn’t know what it was about the man, but she didn’t like him. Perhaps it was just her prejudice against Slytherins, but she didn’t think so.

Minerva strolled out to Hagrid’s cabin, enjoying the night air. It was a relief to be out of the castle. She felt that the past few months, but particularly the past several days, had been just an exercise of moving from one stress to another. As much as she wanted to spend time with Albus, she was also looking forward to taking a couple of weeks to spend with her family. She wanted to visit Melina, as well. She was talking about getting her own place, moving out of the flat over the apothecary, and she had asked her aunt if she would like to help her look for something that would allow her to have Brennan and his Muggle friends over. It would be nice to do some normal, family things. It might also help her regain some control over her emotions toward Albus if she were to spend some time away. But not at the moment. He needed her right now.

Minerva smiled, thinking of how adorable Albus had looked asleep on his couch. Her smile widened as she remembered his first words on waking, “from one lovely dream to another.” He probably hadn’t even realized what he was saying, but it warmed her heart, nonetheless. She wished that she could awaken to see his face. That would, indeed, be a lovely dream. But only ever a dream . . . .

Reaching Hagrid’s little hut, she knocked on his door. When he didn’t respond, she walked around to the back of cabin where his pumpkin and marrow gardens were. She found him there, sitting on a bench in the bright moonlight, leaning against the wall of the cabin, Brutus’s large head resting across one of his feet. He was drinking something from a brown bottle. Minerva hoped he wasn’t in his cups, but was glad to see that he was bathed and dressed in clean clothes.

“Hello, there, Hagrid.”

Hagrid turned his head to look at her and seemed to perk up a bit, sitting up straighter.

“’Lo, M’nerva! Brutus an’ me are jest enjoyin’ the evenin’. Join us? Have a butterbeer?”

Just butterbeer. Well, that was all right. Someone of Hagrid’s size could probably drink a couple gallons of the stuff without being affected at all.

“Yes, thanks, Hagrid, that would be nice.” She sat next to him on the rough-hewn bench. It was certainly preferable to be drinking butterbeer with Hagrid than drinking a vintage wine with Slughorn. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be meeting Professor Flitwick at the gates at eleven o’clock, so you needn’t worry about him. However, Professor James will probably be returning after midnight, and I’m concerned that he might not have the password to unlock the gate. Could you keep an eye out for him and let him in?”

“Of course, I will. Glad to,” he said, handing her a butterbeer.

There was a large, Charmed bell that hung by the gates; visitors could pull the bell rope and notify the groundskeeper of their presence, but if Hagrid was aware that James was arriving, he could be close at hand and the Muggle Studies teacher wouldn’t have to wait outside the gates very long. Minerva remembered how she had waited in the snow for twenty minutes before finally ringing the bell, summoning Hagrid to open the gates to her. Albus had forgotten she was there. But from what she’d seen on his lists, he’d become aware of his sudden habit of being late almost every time he was to meet her, so it wouldn’t do to think about it again. Except it was odd, since when she’d been living in London, he’d almost never been late when they met for tea or lunch, and even then, never by more than five or ten minutes, and he would never have left her standing in the snow.

Minerva sighed as she accepted the cold butterbeer from Hagrid.

“Yeh all righ’, there, M’nerva?”

“Just a bit tired, Hagrid.” She took a sip of the cold drink and rested her head against the wall behind her. It was pleasant sitting here, listening to the night sounds drifting from the forest. “How have you been, Hagrid?”

“Same,” he answered laconically.

“You’ve seemed a little less . . . energetic than usual.”

“I’m fine. Jes’ fine.” He took a swig from his bottle.

Minerva closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh, cool air. She would press Hagrid about his troubles later. Right now, just sitting here drinking butterbeer was relaxing, and Hagrid seemed happy to have her company.

Eventually, Minerva pulled her small watch from her pocket and opened it. Ten minutes before eleven. Minerva didn’t know how long it would take Flitwick to get to the gates once he’d arrived in Hogsmeade. If he Apparated, he could be there just a minute or two past eleven.

“I have to go down and meet Professor Flitwick now, Hagrid. Thank you for the butterbeer. It was nice to just sit for a bit,” she said with a smile.

Hagrid looked at her with a warm smile on his face as he reached out to take her empty bottle. “Glad fer yer company, M’nerva. Come down whenever yeh like. I’m always happy t’see a friendly face.”

Minerva promised him she would remember his invitation, and left to meet Professor Flitwick. Once at the gates, she conjured a garden chair to sit and wait for him, but didn’t have to wait long. She heard a cheerful whistling in the distance, growing louder. Something from Bizet’s Carmen, Minerva believed. She stood and banished her chair. It must be Flitwick; Albus had said that he liked music. A moment later, she saw a little man walking lightly toward her. Not allowing her surprise at his appearance show on her face – he was one of the smallest wizards she’d ever seen; he couldn’t be more than four feet tall, if that – Minerva opened the gate.

“Professor Flitwick?” Minerva asked.

“Yes! And you must be Professor McGonagall! Delighted to make your acquaintance, Professor! Delighted!” His smile lit up his face, his dark brown eyes shone, and he did, indeed, appear delighted. Minerva couldn’t help but return his smile as she took his outstretched hand and shook it. His grip was warm and firm.

“The pleasure is mine, Professor. Welcome to Hogwarts!” She looked around, half-expecting to see his luggage floating somewhere. “Have you any luggage?”

“Oh, yes, but a few convenient charms, and everything fits nicely in my pockets.” He patted his coat pockets. “Thank you very much for taking the time to meet me, Professor. It’s lovely to be back at Hogwarts again!”

“You’re very welcome. I know that Professor Dumbledore is very pleased you took the position. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will. I love children, I love Charms, I love Hogwarts – so what could be better than teaching Charms at Hogwarts?”

Minerva had slowed her pace some to match the short wizard’s stride. “I feel the same, Professor.”

“You know, if we’re going to be colleagues, perhaps you would call me ‘Filius’? If that’s not too forward a suggestion on such short acquaintance?”

Minerva grinned. Slughorn suggests she use his first name, and she finds it somewhat off-putting, but this little wizard makes the same offer less than five minutes after meeting her, and she finds it charming. “I would like that, Filius, and I am Minerva, of course.”

They continued to chat on the way up to the seventh floor, Minerva feeling rather badly that he had to climb so many stairs on such short legs, and he wasn’t what one would call “young,” either, but he seemed not to notice at all, bouncing along quite happily beside her. When they reached the Ravenclaw guest quarters, Minerva told him the password and invited him to try it.

“Allegro!” the new Charms teacher said, addressing the boy in the painting, who rose and bowed as the door clicked.

“Welcome, Professor Flitwick! I am Paris. Please tell me if there is any way in which I may serve you!”

“Marvellous! Thank you, Paris!”

Minerva showed the new teacher his temporary rooms, explaining that he would be assigned new ones before school began and promising to introduce him to the current Head of Ravenclaw in the morning.

“Johannes Birnbaum,” Flitwick murmured, thinking. “I don’t believe I know him.”

Minerva explained that Birnbaum was the German Herbology teacher, and when she described the circumstances of his “Sorting,” Filius clapped and laughed, obviously holding no prejudice against Birnbaum because he hadn’t attended Hogwarts as a student. Minerva smiled. He would definitely be a nice change from the taciturn Professor Dustern.

By the time Minerva returned to her own rooms, it was close to midnight. She had woken up that morning at six o’clock so that she could have an early breakfast with her mother and get back to Hogwarts to meet with Albus; it had been a very long day. She was just entering her bedroom when Blampa popped in.

“Professor Minerva, I, Blampa, has a letter for Professor Minerva!”

Minerva took the parchment from the house-elf. She recognised Albus’s handwriting.

“Thank you, Blampa.” The house-elf Apparated away.

Minerva opened the note.

“Dear Minerva,

“Thank you again for all of your assistance today.

“Gertrude and I will be having morning tea in my sitting room at six o’clock. Would you care to join us? I know that is early, so please do not feel obligated. I will expect you if I see you, my dear!

“Sweet dreams,

“Albus”

Minerva quickly undressed for bed and cast a Tempus alarm for five-thirty, then called Blampa and asked her to make sure that she was up at that time. It wouldn’t do to oversleep. While she would prefer to take tea alone with Albus, she would tolerate Gertrude’s presence if it meant starting the day with him. Climbing into bed, Minerva reminded herself once more that Gertrude was his Deputy, in addition to being friends with him longer than she herself had been alive. Before dousing the lights, she looked over at the landscape Albus had hung for her. If she were to become Head of Gryffindor, which now appeared inevitable, given Pretnick’s condition, she would ask Albus to move the landscape with her. It was nice to be able to see that just before she fell asleep and first thing on waking, given that she couldn’t see Albus himself. With that thought, Minerva hoped once again that he remembered his promise to give her the photograph of the two of them together. She hoped he could find it, although, with all that was going on, she would not blame him if he forgot to look for it.

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Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!

[Hogwarts Duo]

“Albus! Albus!” Minerva placed a soft hand on his cheek and stroked his hair. “Albus, it’s Minerva. Time to wake up, dearest.”

Albus’s eyes opened and he blinked. “From one lovely dream to another,” he murmured sleepily.

SQUEEEEEE!!!!!! That was sooooo perfect. Not too flirty but very honest and sincere. I do believe the best time to get to Albus’ true emotions is when he’s waking up from his sleep, more likely his dreams of his Minerva….wheeee!

It was awesome to see Minerva playing the role of hostess when she was in Albus’ office with Gertie and Slughorn. She easily slipped into the role and made it her own, calling Wilspy and ordering tea for them to have. That’s a very telling sign that she’s growing more comfortable in her surroundings. Now if only we could get certain people out of the way…hmmmm.

Slughorn gives me the creeps. He’s such a little leech and Minerva was very smart to follow him down the stairs instead of the other way around. I don’t even want to ponder the rude things he might try, though I’m sure Minerva could hex him before he even had time to pull his wand…ugh.

The letter from Albus was sweet and I’m glad to see he invited Minerva to morning tea, even though he knows she’s not a morning person per se. Hopefully she makes it his office on time and tea goes well before their meeting with the other professors.

Keep the updates coming. The more we get the happier we are!!!

GLM ;D

[sevherfan]

Pretend I quoted the exact same lines as Hogwarts Duo - they were perfect! And the second time in a day he commented on her beauty. So so close! Though I suppose they'll have some near-kisses before the actual thing too. Tell me you have the moment planned?!? It is going to be MONUMENTAL! Two updates in the last two days. I feel spoiled!! But do keep it up!

(look at all those exclamation points, somebody must be really excited about an unexpected update...)

[esoterica1693]

Ditto on those lines as Minerva wakes him up. Awwww! How perfect! Sleepy!Albus is very cute! :-) Also shows at least his subconscious has probably made the link between the scene of his discussion w/ Merwyn about his marriage and Minerva...

Gertie certainly doesn't have a problem w/ Minerva helping out. And th two of them collaborated nicely in handling Sluggo. Who is a jerk. Empathy and sympathy don't seem to be in his dictionary--must not be included in the Slytherin editions. :-) And why do I not feel real optimistic about Pretnick's long-term career trajectory given all the talk of "subjects" and death?

Good that Minerva is realizing she needs to be Head of Gryffindor. Too bad it took Pretnick being bitten to make it unavoidable.....

[Alesia]

I loved the way this chapter is a reflection of normal life at Hogwarts as we know it - Minerva helping Albus transition from one crisis to another. Minerva's thoughts about sitting behind Hagrid's hut are something she needs to get used to - there will always be some 'crisis' or another. I don't really think she has to worry about Sluggy, he will try but he is more then likely basically harmless. I certainly don't think he will try anything forceful - it takes too much effort!! I adored the tender moment between Albus and Minerva but actaully really enjoyed the way she interacted with Gertie. Slowly but surely whether Minerva realizes it or not, she is relaxing around Gertie, which was Gertie who point in the matter.

(I did a little math last night after reading the latest chapter of aAoL and I really hope Minerva and Albus don't wait 5 years!)

[laundry basket]

THAT LINE! The one the practically everyone's mentioned! Sooo sweet! lol. But I'm getting over-excited. Another brilliant chapter, as always. Slughorn is getting to me, though -- he wanted her to go to his rooms, and that is unacceptable, as she belongs to Albus!
Filius was absolutely darling as well. Such a sweet little guy. And Pertnick's condition will get better with that potion Sluggy's getting, right? Right? Well, I can hope!
I cannot wait for the next chapter, and that little early morning tea!

[MMADfan]

alesia said:

I loved the way this chapter is a reflection of normal life at Hogwarts as we know it - Minerva helping Albus transition from one crisis to another. Minerva's thoughts about sitting behind Hagrid's hut are something she needs to get used to - there will always be some 'crisis' or another. I don't really think she has to worry about Sluggy, he will try but he is more then likely basically harmless. I certainly don't think he will try anything forceful - it takes too much effort!! I adored the tender moment between Albus and Minerva but actaully really enjoyed the way she interacted with Gertie. Slowly but surely whether Minerva realizes it or not, she is relaxing around Gertie, which was Gertie who point in the matter.

(I did a little math last night after reading the latest chapter of aAoL and I really hope Minerva and Albus don't wait 5 years!)

Just a very quick comment, so as to allay anyone's fears -- while most of your comments are spot-on, I have to say I wasn't sure where the "5 years" figure came from (but I haven't re-read the last chappie of AAoL, either). This is 1957, HBP is 1996-97, and in AAoL, I'm pretty sure that they refer to "more than thirty-five years" and "almost forty years" for the amount of time they'd been together. In chapter four, when Albus is reflecting on his relationship with Minerva, I'm pretty sure he says that he's loved her for almost forty years, more, actually, but she didn't know about it before that. So have hope! (And I could not write another five years of this saga! The thought makes me want to throw my laptop out the window! LOL! It's only been a little more than a week since she had her rant in Poppy's office, after all -- of course, much of those intervening chapters dealt with events that occurred between 1937 and 1957, but it's still daunting to contemplate writing five years of history at the current pace of the story -- I think Minerva would run screaming from the castle well before then just from the frustration of it all! LOL!!!) So I hope I have reassured everyone!

And I'm very glad that you all liked the little "waking Albus" scene! It made me go "awww" when I wrote it!

And Slughorn's interest in Minerva is not quite what Minerva perceives it to be (you're right that he's likely too lazy to act on anything that didn't fall into his lap, so to speak! haha!) -- rather, he began to see her as a potential power with access to Albus almost as soon as she began teaching (this despite the fact that Albus was actually avoiding Minerva during those first months -- but Slughorn didn't know that). He has no clue that his attempts to ingratiate himself with Minerva result in having her think he's an old letch . . . which he may be, in fact (lecherous, that is), but that's not his primary motivation. I don't know whether this will ever actually come out in the story, but it's part of the back-story that I thought people might enjoy knowing.

[FireBird]

It's good to know what Slughorn's real motivations are; I was just about to start ranting about his behavior. Albus' comment upon waking up was just so adorable! Filius Flitwick is really wonderful, I do hope he will interact with Minerva often. It's really a pleasure to read about someone like him! I must say, I like the way Minerva is starting to help Albus' with his work, and in some ways already at least partially assuming the role of his deputy. I am, naturally, delighted that Minerva talked with Gertie again and has the prospect of doing so once more in only a few hours time.
It was good to get some insights into what is possible to help werewolves, and despite Slughorn's talk I have a feeling things will turn out well enough for Robert Pretnick. (Poor guy!)
Oh, and I just thought I'd mention that your speed of updating is making me very happy indeed! ;D

[MMADfan]

Note: Thank you, everyone, for all of your kind comments! I'm very happy that the story continues to entertain you! It may be a week or so before the next update, so don't fret if you don't see one for a while! Read some of the other great fics available here and elsewhere -- and maybe read a ship you haven't read before, just to be daring! ;D

As usual, the chapter is just a bit too long to post, so it's broken into two parts.

LXXXVI: Tasseomancy

Minerva woke with her Tempus alarm and bounded out of bed before Blampa arrived. She rushed through her morning routine, dressing in her mossy green summer-weight robes and charming her favourite shoes to match. She put her hair up in a flattering chignon and added the “hair things” that Albus had liked. Despite her shower, after only five hours sleep, she was still somewhat muzzy-headed and was looking forward to her first cup of tea.

As she made her way down to the second floor to the entrance to the Headmaster’s Tower, Minerva wondered whether this was going to be a social meeting or whether they were going to discuss Pretnick’s condition and his future. Although she wanted to support Albus, she couldn’t see how they could keep him on the staff, even if they were able to sedate him during the transition. And who knew what the side-effects of that potion were? She wondered whether Slughorn would be forthcoming about them – or Belby, for that matter. He was probably doing his research with the permission of the Ministry, unless he’d gone to one of the countries on the Continent in which such research was much less regulated. Who knew what kind of immoral practices he used to inveigle werewolves to co-operate with his research . . . Minerva wasn’t sure she wanted to know what incentives he employed. Although perhaps it was only the spectre of a lifetime of monthly transmogrification that induced their willing co-operation.

“Good morning, Minerva.”

Minerva was surprised to see Gertrude approach her from the direction of the Headmaster’s office entrance.

“Good morning, Gertrude. Aren’t you having tea with the Headmaster and me this morning?”

“No. I had a quick cup of coffee with him, but I am going to go home briefly and see my parents before the meeting. It was my father’s birthday last night, and I am sure that they would appreciate an explanation of why I missed it and didn’t even send an owl. I have no doubt they are also concerned about me. And I can pick up some more clothes. I left nothing here that’s suitable for the current weather.” Indeed, the Deputy Headmistress was wearing the same pale blue and silver robes she had been wearing the previous day.

“I see. Of course, you must reassure them. I hope they aren’t terribly worried.”

The older witch quirked a smile. “They are used to me dropping everything when Albus needs me; I think it would take more than my disappearance for a day to get them truly worried.”

“Well, we’ll see you at eight-thirty, then?” Minerva felt uneasy, although she couldn’t pinpoint precisely why.

Gertrude nodded. “Yes. Till then!”

The Arithmancy teacher walked briskly toward the side corridor where her own rooms were located. In fact, a few of the staff members had their rooms off the second floor corridor. Minerva had been somewhat surprised to find that her own rooms were so far removed from anyone else’s. But she did have a much larger sitting room than most others she had seen, her bathroom was practically palatial, and, of course, Albus had thought that placing her rooms on the same floor as her classroom and office would be convenient for her, even if he was mistaken in that. The rooms of the two other staff members whom she visited most often, Poppy and Wilhelmina, were located near the infirmary and Gryffindor Tower, respectively, so she wouldn’t have been next door to either of them, in any event.

Minerva rode the long spiral stairs up to the Headmaster’s office, going over the list of staff in her head, who had replied, who had not, and who she knew to be present in the castle as of last night. A sudden realisation dawned on her, and she felt as though her heart had stopped. Binns. She hadn’t contacted Binns. But she wouldn’t even know how. What did he do during the summer? And was he expected to participate in decision-making meetings such as this? Albus would be so disappointed in her. He had left it all in her hands, and she had neglected to contact a teacher who most certainly was still in the castle . . . somewhere. Minerva almost turned around to go to the ghost’s office – perhaps that was where he spent his time – but she didn’t. She would simply have to tell Albus of her oversight. Unless Binns actually summered somewhere other than the castle, which Minerva couldn’t imagine, he shouldn’t be difficult to summon for the meeting. But Albus had been so proud of her, and now she had let him down.

Minerva made her way up to Albus’s suite and knocked lightly on the door to his sitting room before opening it. He wasn’t present, but there was a teapot, two teacups, and a partially drunk cup of coffee on the table. She was just taking this in when Albus, wearing his dressing gown, his hair and beard still slightly damp, and a colourful towel draped about his neck, stuck his head through the bedroom door.

He smiled when he saw her. “Ah, Minerva! I am so sorry I am yet again unpunctual – please make yourself at home. I will be right out.”

“That’s fine, Albus, take your time.”

Minerva sat at the table and poured herself a cup of tea. She wondered, with a slight stabbing pain, whether Gertrude had woken him that morning, and if his words to her had been similar to those he had said to her the day before. It seemed that Quin’s words were coming true – every source of joy was becoming a greater source of pain. Certainly it seemed that the pain she felt was increasing with each day. Perhaps the only thing to do was to create distance between them again, since it seemed that the ache in her heart had worsened as a result of her unwarranted feelings of closeness to Albus. But Minerva didn’t think she could do that. It would be like cutting out her heart to step back from him now. She would simply have to harden herself against the pain. She could bear it. She could not bear separation from him; that would be worse.

Just as Minerva was taking a sip of tea, Albus bustled into the room, carrying his shoes.

“I am so sorry, Minerva! After I’d promised you I’d be on time – ”

Minerva interrupted him, shaking her head, “Don’t worry, Albus, really. It is very early.” She smiled. “You could have taken the time to put on your shoes. I don’t think I would have withered away in that amount of time!”

Albus chuckled. “It was more for my benefit, Minerva. An opportunity to spend a few more minutes with you!”

Minerva was glad that Albus sat down at that moment and bent to put on his shoes; his unexpected words had brought a blush of pleasure to her cheeks. By the time he sat up, she had brought her flush under control.

“Albus, I have something to tell you. I am afraid I made an error yesterday.” Minerva took a deep breath. “I forgot Professor Binns.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Minerva, my dear! I looked through your letters before I retired last night – admirable job in trying to get Horace here earlier, by the way, and I’m glad you sent one to Apollyon – and I noticed there was no letter to Binns. Of course, it occurred to me that you may have informed him in person, but I thought it likely that his somewhat insubstantial existence had been overlooked, so I sent Wilspy to find him and inform him of the meeting. Much easier than one of us hunting him down. I still need to work on the ghost-detecting wards, I’m afraid.” He grinned cheerfully at her and shook his head. “Still not finished with them, Minerva, after all these years. I think it will be the work of a lifetime.”

Minerva couldn’t help but return Albus’s smile. “When I realised, I felt so stupid, having forgotten him so entirely.”

“Quite understandable, Minerva, quite understandable!” He poured himself a cup of tea. “However, if you ever do wish to see Binns, he generally spends his nights in the staff room, sleeping in front of the fire. Rather a long-ingrained habit of his.”

“I see. I was worried . . .”

Albus smiled kindly at her. He reached out and patted her hand, then let his hand rest on hers. “If you were worried that I would be disappointed, don’t be. You did very well yesterday. I knew I could count on you, and I was not disappointed.”

Minerva turned her hand under his, and her heart pounded when he closed his hand around hers. She curled her own fingers around his hand, holding it.

Trying to pull herself together, Minerva said softly, “I’m glad you understand, Albus.” She took a barely controlled breath, so aware of Albus’s warm palm on her own and the rich orchestra of his magical power thrumming against hers that she could scarcely think straight.

“I met Professor Flitwick last night.” She swallowed and looked up at him. “He seems like a lovely person.”

Albus gave her hand a slight squeeze, then let it go to fix his tea.

“He is, very,” he answered, concentrating on adding just the right amount of milk and sugar to his tea, then stirring it well.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their tea. Minerva dared a glance at him, once her heart had resumed its normal rhythm. Despite no doubt having had a short night, Albus looked wonderful, wearing robes of a soft dusky rose fabric with spirals of gold thread woven through it. He had charmed his shoes to match the robes, doing so as he pulled them on, not needing his wand or an incantation, but merely his will. She shivered. To think that she harboured such feelings for the most powerful wizard alive . . . it was absurd, and no doubt anyone who knew of it would believe it to be mere infatuation. Anyone but Quin; he would believe her, for he already knew the depth of her feelings.

Suddenly aware that she was staring, Minerva was too slow in looking away, and Albus’s eyes met hers, their brilliant blue deepening as he smiled at her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she worked at regaining her calm.

“I am glad you liked Filius, Minerva. Perhaps you could assist him with whatever he may need while he is here over the next few days? If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Not at all,” she said as she tried simultaneously to converse normally and to practice her Occlumency exercises. “It would be difficult not to like him, I think. He is completely charming.” They chuckled at her unintentional pun. “I will be sure to see that he has whatever he needs and feels at home.”

“Good. I will be busy over the next few days, as you might imagine. I am grateful for whatever help you can give us. Naturally, Gertrude is going to be working on this, too, but I would truly value your opinions, my dear, as well as your assistance.”

“I will be very happy to do whatever I can. I saw Gertrude as I was on my way here, Albus,” Minerva said hesitantly, suddenly aware of what it had been about Gertrude’s appearance that had disturbed her and now wishing she hadn’t mentioned that she’d seen her. The witch had been wearing the same clothes she’d had on the day before. Of course, Gertie had said she didn’t have anything to wear, but nonetheless . . . Albus had clearly not been up long when Minerva had arrived. Had Gertie’s face not only been the first thing Albus had seen on waking, but the last thing he’d seen before falling asleep? The thought caused Minerva’s stomach to clench and her throat to close. She doubted she could swallow even tea.

Albus finished his cup of tea and said, “Oh, yes, she stopped by early to let me know that she was going to her parents before the meeting. We had a long talk last night, so when she came by this morning, I agreed that it was unnecessary for us to meet this morning.” He grinned. “I had my alarm clock set for five forty-five, and it was rather a surprise to wake up and have Wilspy tell me I had a guest! I thought I had set my clock wrong and that it was you here waiting for me. I was somewhat disappointed to learn that it was only quarter to six and . . . well, Gertrude was drinking coffee in my sitting room.” He fiddled with his spoon distractedly. “She always does drink that coffee, you know.”

Relief flooded Minerva. Gertie had only just come up for a cup of coffee. She hadn’t spent the night.

“Yes, she drank coffee every morning when I was in Cornwall.” Minerva felt she was on the verge of babbling.

“Mmm. She complains about the Hogwarts coffee. Don’t know why. Coffee is coffee, after all,” Albus said.

“I had a cup while I was there; it was better than I remember coffee being. It smelled different, too.” Now that she was relieved of her immediate worry, Minerva was curious about their conversation. “But you said that you two had talked quite late last night? Did you come to any conclusions?” Minerva wanted to ask him if Gertrude had managed to change his mind about proposing that Pretnick remain on the staff, but didn’t want to be so blunt.

Albus, used to years of debate in the Wizengamot and elsewhere, grinned puckishly, “You mean to ask whether I am still set on finding a way for Robert to remain in his position here at Hogwarts?”

Minerva blushed faintly. “Well, yes, actually. It does seem . . . a formidable proposition, after all.”

“Yes, but I think that, with some creative scheduling and other teachers pitching in and covering a few classes when necessary, we can enable Robert to continue teaching. The dungeons of Hogwarts are far more extensive than most people are aware; we could create a special chamber for him to stay in for the duration of the change – ”

“Here? Inside the castle? Albus, I know you mean well, but whatever safeguards you put in place, there are children in the castle. If there should be an accident of some sort, if he should escape or if someone should accidentally happen upon him – it just won’t do, neither for the school nor for you, should people learn of it.” Minerva paused. She was doing just what she had told Gertrude she wouldn’t dare: telling Albus what she thought was best. “I just think that, even if we could all be certain that no children were in danger, everyone would be more comfortable if he were confined elsewhere. Somewhere in the country, perhaps.”

Albus sighed. “Gertrude said something similar last night. But I am sure that I could create wards that would contain him and keep others out. And if this potion of Belby’s is safe and actually does sedate the werewolf during the transformation, the danger would be minimal even without the wards.”

“The potions are experimental, Albus. You heard Slughorn last night. Who knows how effective it will be? Or how safe for Pretnick? And someone will have to look after him when he emerges from his confinement – even if the potion does work, I can’t imagine he would be in any shape to teach immediately after, and we don’t know what kind of side effects it might have on him.”

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Part Two of Two.

LXXXVI: Tasseomancy, continued

The two continued to debate the issue for an hour, until finally Minerva drew a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “And what about Robert himself, Albus? You mentioned yesterday evening that he wasn’t in favour of the idea.”

“Well, we didn’t discuss it in such detail, of course, but I did mention to him that there had been some progress toward a potion. I believe his concerns to be similar to those you and Gertrude have, although at the moment, he’s not in any condition to articulate them. Much of his objection comes simply from his sense of despair. I think that if we could give him reason to hope for the future, much of his despair would be allayed.”

“I see . . . well, it will be an interesting meeting this morning, I am sure.” Minerva shook her head, thinking of the possible reactions to Albus’s news and then to his proposal. “I still have my doubts, Albus, but if you believe it can be done . . . .”

“This has been a very good preparation for the meeting, Minerva. I am sure that you have voiced many of the objections that any of the other staff may have, other than those arising out of pure prejudice, of course.” Albus smiled at her. “Every one of your concerns was reasonable. I hope that I can address them adequately.”

“Albus, aside from those concerns, it is likely that the attack will eventually be reported in the Daily Prophet at some point, possibly quite soon. Even if Robert’s name can be kept out of the original articles, word will spread. I can’t imagine that you will keep the Board of Governors in the dark about this, and they may insist that the parents be notified if Robert continues to teach. Have you thought about how you might deal with them? No matter how convincing you may be with the staff, or even with the Governors, parents are quite another matter. As you said to me once quite a long time ago, what parent would want to send a child to a school where death or serious injury was more than a remote possibility? Even those who may agree with you intellectually may be unable to bring themselves to reconcile that agreement with their fears for their own children.”

“Ah, I have taught you well, Minerva,” Albus replied with a smile. “It is good to know that you were listening to me – occasionally, anyway!”

“Don’t joke about it now, Albus. It is a genuine problem.” Minerva frowned “Even if I believed the students were all safe during the full moon, I cannot think of an argument to convince parents of it. And some will simply not want him here, even during the rest of the month, simply because he is a werewolf. They will see him as having a taint at all times, not just when he is transformed.”

“I know, my dear, and I do not joke about that. I hope this will become an opportunity to teach everyone that it is better to integrate those who are so afflicted, rather than marginalising them. That is folly and can only lead to trouble.”

“And do you believe that everyone is educable?” Minerva sounded sceptical.

“No, but it is only necessary that we persuade the majority to give this scheme a chance to work.”

“I believe that you will need more than a majority of the staff, however, Albus. Without their full support, both you and Robert would be in for a very difficult time – and it could undermine your authority in other areas, as well. That would be good neither for Hogwarts nor for you,” Minerva responded.

Albus nodded slowly. “Then we must be persuasive this morning.”

“And if we are not?” she asked.

“We will try again. Give everyone time to think about it.”

“Hmm. Well, I may or may not voice some of my concerns at the meeting, Albus, but you know that you have my support. Even if I am not entirely convinced.”

“You shouldn’t support me blindly, Minerva. That is not what I need from you.” Albus furrowed his brow.

“I do not support you blindly, Albus. I believe that, whatever my concerns, you will address them adequately, even if I do not completely see how at the moment.” She grinned wryly. “And I will voice them, if you need me to.”

Albus smiled. “That is what I need. I need to know that when you agree with me, it is because you genuinely do agree, and that when you have doubts, you will tell me of them. I may not always be aware of every pitfall of one of my plans.”

Minerva chuckled. “I doubt that I have come up with a single objection or scenario this morning for which you did not have an answer – even if I’ve not always been convinced of its adequacy.”

“Keep me on my toes, Minerva!” Albus said brightly.

“Well, I suppose we should get to breakfast,” Minerva said with a slight sigh, not eager to bring an end to her time with Albus. “I told Filius that I would stop by and fetch him for breakfast at seven-thirty, and it is almost that already.”

“On a first-name basis already, are you?” Albus asked with a grin.

“He invited me to call him by his first name. If you think it inappropriate – ”

“Only teasing, my dear! You are colleagues. Filius is a very open and friendly soul. I believe you two will get along quite well.”

Minerva rose from the table. “I do think he may prove to be more collegial than some,” she agreed.

She looked down at Albus; his cheeks seemed rosier that morning, the colour of his robes bringing out the pink in his skin, and his hair and beard were soft and full from his recent shower. But it was his bright, smiling blue eyes that brought a smile to her own face and a warmth to her heart.

“I will see you in the Great Hall in a little while, then, Albus.” She hesitated. “I enjoyed this, even if it was business, and not particularly pleasant business.”

“So did I, my dear, so did I.”

Overcome by her feelings of warmth toward him, Minerva bent and lightly kissed his cheek before quickly turning and leaving the room.

Oh, now that had been a mistake. Minerva rushed down the moving stairs, one hand hovering cautiously over the rail as she trotted down the steps as they spiralled toward the second floor. Even if Albus thought nothing of it, it was highly unprofessional to end a meeting with one’s boss by kissing him on the cheek! She surely would never have done that with any of her previous superiors at the Ministry, not even Amelia Bones, of whom Minerva had grown quite fond over the years. Of course, she and Albus were friends, too, but it had been a business meeting and not a social occasion, not to mention the fact that kissing him had only served to bring all of her feelings for him rushing to the surface. She had to avoid that, lest she give herself away one day, and destroy their friendship. But he had been so sweet, from the moment he had sat down in the chair to put on his shoes, telling her that he was taking the opportunity to spend more time with her – even if it was only a few minutes – to the way he had taken her hand and held it, and even to his affectionate teasing.

And it had been such a relief to realise that Gertrude had not spent the night with him, anymore than Albus had spent the night with her when Poppy had interrupted their breakfast last week. And Gertrude’s had not been the first face he had seen that morning – little Wilspy’s had been. Of course, that didn’t precisely clarify the nature of their relationship for her . . . but wouldn’t Gertrude have woken him herself if they were . . . involved in some way? Perhaps not, not if she believed that he needed his sleep after his long day. Albus had certainly found her presence in his sitting room unremarkable . . . although he almost seemed to imply that he had been disappointed that it had been Gertrude, and not she, who was waiting for him, although he should have been expecting her, as well.

Minerva shook her head, clearing it. She was being foolish. All of it, from beginning to end. Foolish to worry about a little kiss on the cheek, foolish to worry about Albus’s relationship with Gertrude, foolish to even beginning reading anything into Albus’s attitude toward Gertrude or toward her. She would just have to guard her feelings in the future. Minerva stepped around the gargoyle and began the long trip to the seventh floor and the Ravenclaw guest quarters.

Several stories above her, Albus sat staring into his teacup, wondering what Hafrena MacAirt would have to say about the few tea leaves that had settled to the bottom of it. When Minerva had bent to kiss his cheek, he had very nearly reached for her and returned her kiss, but if he had, could he have stopped there? He had thought he had mastered his reactions to her, but now he didn’t know if he would ever be able to master them.

His inclination to meet with Minerva only in public had been a good one, he thought, and he only had invited her to early tea on Gertrude’s suggestion because he had believed the three of them would be meeting together. But when Gertie had come by early and said that she thought she needed to go home briefly, he had been slightly disappointed that she would be leaving, but he had felt an unexpected thrill go through him at the thought of spending time alone with Minerva. It went entirely against his better judgment. He still remembered how lovely it had been to wake up the evening before and see Minerva’s face hovering above his own; he remembered saying something, something foolish, no doubt, and seeing her smile. . . .

What was he to do? He looked into the teacup again. With some imagination, he could see two hearts, each split down the middle, a few droplets of the remaining tea seeming to form tears. But he was no tasseomancer; he didn’t even believe in such things, not really, despite Eliza MacAirt’s pronouncement one hundred years ago that he should not marry Dervilia . . . the old witch had always been saying such things, after all. Not that there weren’t true prophecies, of course, but they were few and far between. The rest was intuition and, he thought, looking into his teacup, wishful thinking . . . or dolorous thinking, in this case. Weeping broken hearts. Such foolishness.

Albus waved his hand almost angrily, banishing all of the tea things from the table, and stood. He had a hard meeting ahead of him, and he had no time for such idiocy. He would overcome this, this foolish, aging heart of his, betraying him now, in the autumn of his life.

Unbidden, the memory came to Albus of Minerva, a dozen years before, standing at the top of the cliff, wind whipping through her hair, and he felt the same ache he had then. But it was what it was and would have to remain so. Infatuation or love, it didn’t matter what it was, he would have to cordon it off, maintain control over himself, remain Minerva’s mentor and friend, and if that meant that he could not be alone with Minerva, then so be it. If it were to be necessary that they be alone, he would ensure they were in his office, and he would remain the Headmaster, behind his desk. He couldn’t behave imprudently if he were confined to his desk, after all. His throat constricted. It was for the best . . . but why, then, did the thought of seeing Minerva again and keeping his distance from her cause a stabbing sharp sorrow to course through him?

---

Note: Hope you all enjoyed that chappie! Let me know!

[Hogwarts Duo]

Oh now this was a very fun chapter to read for so many reasons.

I love how forward Minerva is in this little section. Even though she doesn't realize it at the time, she's definitely flirting with Albus and I do believe he's beginning to flirt back with her.

Their little hand holding section was so sweet and his comments to her about being disappointed that Gertie wasn't Minerva...awwww. GO ALBUS!!!! You're getting the right idea...FINALLY!!!

Minerva's kiss before she left gave me something to "squee" about. She was so free with her affections where Quin was concerned so it's really nice to see her loosen up a bit and show Albus a little affection. Of course it would have been MUCH BETTER for both of them if she'd kissed him on the lips like she did Quin...grrrrrrr!

Albus' tea leaves....wow...now there's a prophecy if ever I saw one in this story. Too bad he didn't take it to heart!!!

Sniff sniff...no update for a week? GASP!!! Maybe this means we'll be getting something on An Act of Love....hey, a girl can hope!!!

GLM

[esoterica1693]

. He couldn’t behave imprudently if he were confined to his desk, after all. His throat constricted. It was for the best . . . but why, then, did the thought of seeing Minerva again and keeping his distance from her cause a stabbing sharp sorrow to course through him?

Oh, that thought of Albus' causes a stabbing sharp sorrow to course through me! If he pulls back from her now it will make things so much worse. She will think she's offended him by her unprofessional behaviour and they won't be far off from where they started a week ago!

Wait a week for an update w/ them both in such angst?! Oh, you torture us! :-) :-)

So Albus has encountered prophecies from the McAirts before, eh? Let's hope he listens to the next one more he did than the last--b/c I can't believe Quin won't twig to exactly what's going on if he spends more than 30 secs. w/ them both in the same room... (And poor Dervilia! Albus' skepticism about divination has had some unfortunate consequences in the past!)

[Alesia]

I love that both Albus and Minerva disregard the various times the universe has told them they are supposed to be together. I would love to know what the old seer told Albus about Dervella and was there more to the prophecy besides the warning.

[elivania]

*does and little dance* What an amazing chapter. I love the jealousy and the questions and most especially the kiss. You've got me on my toes each chapter as I hope to see some more MMAD fluffyness. *Eli*

[Orion's Guard]

I've been behind again for a while, but it's nice to come back and catch up. I do think it's odd that Minerva is still worried about a romantic relationship with Gertie after all this time, but I guess she can't control her jealous tendancies.

I have a feeling the werewolf thing isn't going to be over quickly, and I look forward to see how you wrap all this up.

Thanks for writing!

[Jessabelle]

Excellent work, yet again my dear! I am so glad Minerva showed her affection towards Albus with that cute little kiss! I really hope that this will lead to them getting closer instead of pulling away again.
I so love Gertie's character! She is brilliant and still so mysterious. I can't help but wonder if she is gently and inconspicuously trying to get Minerva and Albus to admit their feelings. I do believe her excuse for not attending their morning pre-meeting meeting, but I also believe that her motives where more then for her families peace of mind and such.
I am very interested to see the staff interact with each other while debating such a serious issue. I do hope that Minerva will voice her opinions. And, allow her loyalty and support for Albus really shine.
Please keep up the great work. This fic has been thoroughly enjoyable thus far, and I expect that it will continue to be! Thank-you for sharing this story with us all!
- Jess

[FireBird]

I really liked Minerva and Albus' pre-meeting, and her little kiss on his cheeks is making me hopeful. I'm still eagerly awaiting the real meeting, though, in which I'm hoping for a lot of interesting interaction, as well as Quin's visit, which will hopefully result in at least a strong prod in the right direction. Also, I am still curious about Melina's problem. And Hagrid's strange behavior is still demanding an explanation.

[MMADfan]

Note: Here's the next chapter. It's a shortie, but it moves us on quite nicely to a few rather interesting moments!

Thanks so much for all your reviews! And a few of the questions that have been hanging about will soon be answered . . . Enjoy!

LXXXVII: Debate and Dissension

Minerva sat rigidly at the table, watching as the others slowly filed out or stood in small knots, talking. This had to go on record as one of the more uncomfortable meetings that she had attended in a very long time. It started badly when Professor Dustern sneered at her and asked her why she was sitting where she was, up near the head of the table. Fortunately, Gertrude, whose idea it had been that Minerva sit there, responded in such a way as to leave Dustern no choice but to take a seat grudgingly and seethe silently.

Gertrude had suggested that, in order to show their support for Dumbledore, she, Minerva, and Slughorn should sit up by the Headmaster. Normally, the Deputy sat on one side of the Headmaster and the Heads of House sat, if they desired, up at the head of table beside them. Minerva didn’t know what Dustern was so fussed about; she usually sat at the other end of the table, anyway. So Gertrude sat on Albus’s left, Minerva on his right, and Slughorn next to Gertrude. Johannes took the chair next to Minerva and smiled at her amicably. Wilhelmina sat in her usual spot in the middle of the table, and Dustern sat disagreeably beside Slughorn.

After the first outpouring of sympathy for Pretnick and relief that no one else had been injured or infected – other than the werewolf that Pretnick had been forced to kill – the meeting took a decided turn for the worse. Other than Hagrid, Johannes, and Wilhelmina, it seemed that no one fully supported Albus’s desire to keep Pretnick on as Defence teacher. Flitwick may have supported the idea, but it seemed he was trying to remain diplomatic about it, given that he was not yet actually on the staff. Of the others, there were a few who were willing to give it some thought, but there were also a few very vocal nay-sayers, among them, Dustern, Evandras, Perlecta, Herder, and Ogg.

It turned out that Madam Perlecta had been attacked by a werewolf as a child and, although no one had been bitten in that attack and the werewolf had been subdued without having to kill it, she remained so deathly afraid of them that she declared that, much as she felt sorry for young Robert, she would have to leave Hogwarts herself if he remained on staff. Ogg had some rather nasty things to say about non-humans, completely unaware of the impact his words were having on his assistant. Evandras and Herder were opposed to even considering any way of keeping him on staff because of the potential danger to the children, which they saw as very real no matter what safeguards Dumbledore might put into place. The others voiced concerns similar to those of Evandras and Herder, and which Minerva had raised with Albus that morning. Albus answered them as well as possible, and a few people seemed open to exploring the possibility of keeping him on staff, although they were not yet convinced of its practicability.

It hadn’t helped that Slughorn’s responses to questions about the potion were imprecise and hedged with notes of caution. Minerva couldn’t completely blame the Potions Master, however, as he had not yet received a return owl from Belby and so couldn’t articulate the exact effects and potency of the experimental potion. Minerva thought that if they had been able to say definitively that there was a potion that would make the werewolf safe during the full moon and was also safe for Pretnick to take, they may have made more headway with the fence-sitters.

Both Gertrude and Minerva had interjected supportive comments at appropriate intervals, but it became evident that no one who wasn’t already amenable to Dumbledore’s proposal would be persuaded. Finally, Minerva, fearing that more discussion might simply result in losing the support of the few who were amenable to Dumbledore’s plan, made a suggestion.

“Perhaps we should set a small committee to consider the matter and look at all of the arguments both pro and con and then reconvene in a week or two,” Minerva said.

“And who would comprise this committee, precisely?” asked Dustern. “Hand-picked to present only the view the Headmaster favours, no doubt.”

“No, not at all. I was actually going to suggest that the committee members represent those in favour, those opposed, and those who are unsure,” Minerva said evenly.

“I agree with Minerva,” Gertrude said. “If we are to proceed – whether with this or some other plan – we need to have an unbiased examination of the proposal, and perhaps even to devise a counter-proposal that presents an option other than simply abandoning our fellow staff member to his lot. I believe Professor Pretnick deserves that much from us, particularly considering the circumstances in which he came to be afflicted with the infection.”

Dustern snorted. “Well, it should be none of my concern, as I will soon be leaving, but I do not believe that there is any way to have a werewolf on staff in any capacity. But given this Headmaster’s predilection for hiring criminals, rogues, half-breeds, and Squibs, it can hardly come as a surprise to anyone that the next step is hiring beasts. In a few years, we’ll have a house-elf teaching Charms, a garden gnome teaching Herbology, a Muggle teaching the History of Magic, and a centaur teaching Divination.”

Minerva couldn’t help but notice the look on Hagrid’s face by the end of Dustern’s speech. Others were looking on in distaste; Flitwick’s eyebrows raised slightly at the mention of “half-breeds,” and Ogg flushed at the mention of Squibs, but Hagrid looked devastated. He seemed fully recovered from his ordeal all those years ago after the Chamber of Secrets was opened, but it clearly still stung. Minerva didn’t know which reference bothered him more, the one to criminals or to half-breeds, but it certainly confirmed Minerva’s low opinion of Dustern.

“I am surprised that you did not also mention damned foreigners, Katherine,” Johannes said softly. “There are many of us here who would be much worse off if it wasn’t for our Headmaster. Or dead, speaking for my own case. This is an institution of education. We should be dedicated to enlightenment and the betterment of society; the retention of prejudices runs counter to those goals. If there is good, rational argument against keeping Robert here on staff, it must be considered. But prejudice has no place at this table, nor do ad hominem attacks on our Headmaster or fellow staff members. . . . And, as you say, Katherine, you will no longer be on staff in a few weeks.”

Minerva wanted to cheer the German Herbology teacher’s quiet words and was gratified when several other members of the staff, including Binns, murmured, “Hear, hear!”

The meeting came to a close shortly thereafter, a committee having been formed to consider the situation and any possible solutions. Fortunately, Dustern would not be on it, since she would be leaving, and Birnbaum, Wilhelmina, and Flitwick would be; Minerva felt that Flitwick was favourably disposed to Dumbledore, despite not having taken a clear position during the earlier discussion. Madam Perlecta, Professor Herder, and Professor James made up the rest of the committee. Minerva genuinely hoped they could arrive at a solution that everyone on the staff could support and that would give Pretnick some kind of position, even if he couldn’t stay as Defence teacher. It would give him something to look forward to.

Minerva stood as she saw Hagrid make his way from the back of the room, trying unsuccessfully to look inconspicuous. It was clear to Minerva that he was still upset. Perhaps his current problems, whatever they were, had rendered him more sensitive to Dustern’s jibes. As he passed by her, Minerva took his arm.

“All right, there, Hagrid?” she asked quietly.

The half-giant tried to smile. “Fine, P’rfesser McGonagall, jest fine.”

Minerva looked at him with concern, but this was not the time or place to delve into his personal troubles. “Good, then . . . would you like some company later? We could talk. . . .”

“Ta, P’rfesser, but I got things t’be doin’.” He smiled, slightly more successfully this time. “Not that yer no’ welcome any time, but ’s no matter fer yer concern, and I got me job to be abou’.”

“All right, Hagrid. Perhaps we’ll see each other at lunch, then – it’s in the Great Hall again.”

Hagrid nodded and wandered off. Minerva turned to look around. There were only a few people left. Gertrude was talking to Pringle about something – nasty man. Minerva couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to speak with him of their own accord. They would be bringing on an assistant for him in the fall. He wasn’t falling in line with the new Headmaster’s ways very readily, and Albus thought that bringing on an assistant might halve the chances of the caretaker out-and-out disobeying the new rules he was laying down. Minerva thought Pringle – she couldn’t bring herself to call him Appolyon as Albus did – was a sneaky, devious sort, and would try to get away with whatever he could. He wouldn’t openly undermine Albus – and despite others’ opinions about caretakers and those in similar positions, Minerva knew it was perfectly possible for someone as apparently low-placed as he to wreck a lot of damage if he wished to – but he would likely do whatever he could to skirt the new regime and do things the way he always had done them.

Minerva remembered how, when as a third-year she had tearfully told Albus of the way that two of her fellow Gryffindors had been hung by their ankles and had their legs beaten with a stick for having been caught out ten minutes past curfew on their way back from the library, he hadn’t credited her story. Albus believed that Minerva believed it, of course, but he thought such punishments had been abolished since he had been a student. When he learned she had told the unembellished truth, he was furious with the man, and ordered him to bring any miscreant Gryffindors to him and any students from other Houses to their respective Heads and only they could prescribe any punishment. It was not up to the caretaker to determine punishments. Unfortunately, if a staff member sent a student to Pringle and told him to decide what their punishment would be, he felt he had carte blanche.

Albus had worked on Dippet and the Board of Governors to abolish all corporal punishment, but had only succeeded in getting Dippet to create greater limitations on what was allowed. When he became Headmaster, Albus had further limited corporal punishment: now only a teacher could administer any corporal punishment, it must be delivered nonmagically, and it could not cause any bruising, open wounds, or permanent injury, including scarring. He further banned a very long list of instruments that could not be used, including the entire catalogue of instruments found in the caretaker’s office. He would have completely banned all forms of corporal punishment if it weren’t for certain of the Governors who already were disgruntled by his unilateral actions.

Minerva rather doubted that all of the staff members were going to abide by these rules. The staff who had never used corporal punishment would not be affected, and those who thought that what had been good enough for them as children was good enough for succeeding generations would find ways around Dumbledore’s rules. Minerva would be happiest once the worst of the lot was out, retired like Dustern or simply moving on, as Birnbaum and Wilhelmina were – though Minerva would miss the latter two teachers.

Unsure of what Albus expected of her next, Minerva decided to stay and talk to him. Perhaps she could help him in someway. She didn’t know whether Gertrude was staying at the school or not, but if she had gone to her home and retrieved summer-weight robes, she might very well be staying on indefinitely. In that case, Albus might not need her help. But there had to be something that she could do . . . if he said there was nothing, she would ask Gertrude if she could help her. Helping her would be helping Albus, after all, much as she disliked the thought of having Gertrude between them. Minerva reminded herself sternly that she and Albus were friends, but they had no claim on each other’s lives – Gertrude had her place in Albus’s life, too, and she would just have to live with that as she had for the past several months.

She tried to catch Albus’s eye, but he was deep in conversation with Gertrude and Birnbaum and didn’t appear to see her. Only the four of them remained in the staff room. Gertrude was saying something about democracy being a fine ideal, but that Albus should consider being a little less democratic about running Hogwarts, and Birnbaum added something about balancing firm decision-making with a desire for harmony and unity. Perhaps it would be better if she went to his office later. Minerva didn’t want to appear to be hanging about for no discernable reason. And she didn’t want to seem to be demanding his time and attention when it was so evident that he was busy dealing with important school matters, either.

Minerva looked up from her ruminations when she heard her name.

“Perhaps Professor McGonagall could be enlisted for that.” It was Gertrude. Minerva’s stomach filled with butterflies. Was Gertrude volunteering her for something? Would she send her away from the castle so that she could have Albus to herself? Minerva barely had time to register her anxiety when Albus replied.

“That is a fine idea,” he said, turning toward Minerva, “if Minerva agrees, of course. We have been discussing the constitution of the committee.”

It had been agreed that Albus would present his proposal in detail to the committee at the first meeting, then leave the committee to their discussions. He would be available to rejoin them at any point if they had questions for him, but he would not attend subsequent meetings unless invited to. Nonetheless, Gertie believed that the Headmaster should have an ex officio representative on the committee, someone to represent his point-of-view and report to him on the committee’s discussions. The staff had agreed that Albus should have someone attend the meetings and report to him. Minerva had instantly thought that Gertrude – and everyone else at the meeting – would be that representative.

“Gertrude has just suggested that you serve as my representative on the committee. Do not feel obligated, my dear, but I do think you would do well.”

Minerva didn’t know what to think, it was so unexpected. “Are you sure, Professor? Professor Gamp – ”

“ – has pointed out a few excellent reasons why someone else should play that role. Johannes cannot, since he is already a member of the committee, and he cannot simultaneously debate the issues, suggest counter-proposals, and the like, and represent me, as well.” Albus hesitated. “I know you still have your own doubts, Minerva. If you believe it would be too difficult to set aside your own questions and concerns and represent me effectively, I can certainly understand and respect that.”

“No, no, I think I could do that without a problem. I know I can raise my concerns with you privately, after all.” Inexplicably, Minerva felt herself blushing. “I would be honoured to represent you on the committee. We should meet and go over everything. I need to make sure I understand your proposal in its entirety. Do you have time now?”

Albus’s hesitation was perceptible. Was he changing his mind? “No, not right now. I will contact you later today and arrange a meeting. I assume you are available all day?”

“Yes, of course. That would be fine.” The committee was holding its first meeting that evening. Minerva supposed she knew enough to make it through the first meeting even with only a short preparation time. She would have to make notes to bring with her . . . it would have been nice to have more time, but Albus was attending the first part of the meeting, so hopefully there wouldn’t be any time for questions she couldn’t answer. Of course, as Minerva had learned at the Ministry, the best way to deal with questions one couldn’t answer was to say so, promise to look into it, and then actually follow through with an answer at the next opportunity. Some people thought that blustering through with a non-answer, others thought that admitting ignorance was sufficient, but she found people respected you most when you did your best to answer their questions, whether at that moment or later, if necessary. She would be fine. She just hoped that she didn’t disappoint Albus.

“Good, then. Thank you! I’ll be in touch . . . send an owl or a house-elf with a message, all right, my dear?” He smiled at Minerva, then turned back to Gertrude and Birnbaum.

Minerva nodded dumbly at the back of his head. Well, he was distracted by all this, and very busy. He no doubt had good reason for speaking to the other two . . . and dismissing her. He was entrusting her with being his representative on the committee, after all. He could have insisted that Gertie do it – if he were adamant about it, Minerva was certain that Gertrude would do it, whatever her objections had been. She shouldn’t be so sensitive, Minerva thought; if it weren’t for It, she wouldn’t have thought twice about the Headmaster’s behaviour, she was sure. Remembering her resolution to visit Hagrid and find out what was bothering him, Minerva rose, said good-bye to the other three, who all turned, smiling, and wished her a good morning. She set off for Hagrid’s cabin, transforming into her Animagus form as she left the castle and bounding across the lawns to find him, hoping to be able to offer her friend a sympathetic ear.

---

Thanks for reading! It'll be another week, most likely, before the next update! Hope you enjoyed this bridge-chapter!

[Hogwarts Duo]

Yay an update! That was fast and thankfully so!!

Hmmm, how very telling for Minerva to be seated as Albus' RIGHT HAND...wheeee!!!

I have to say that Professor Dustern is a very nasty piece of work. I'm glad she's leaving the school in a few weeks and take her nasty, hateful prejudices with her. Albus doesn't need those sort of people teaching at his school.

I am happy to see that Albus is beginning to rely upon Minerva more heavily for things but I have to wonder why he dismissed her so quickly and without so much as a backwards glance. I swear he blows hot and cold so much it's no wonder that Minerva questions his true affections.

Hopefully they can come up with some sort of solution to help Robert, even if he's not allowed to come back to school in some capacity. I'd hate to think of them all turning their backs on him considering the circumstances surrounding his encounter with the werewolf.

And the corporal punishment bit was very interseting. I remember reading in the books that Arthur Weasley mentioned having a scar from being caught out late. How horrible but with our dear Albus at the helm, I'm sure it will be sorted out eventually and for the good of all. If only he was that dedicated to making sure his personal affairs were handled as well...ugh.

Hope to see another update soon. The more we read the closer we get to having Albus and Minerva enjoying some wholesome (haha) fluff time together!!

TTFN,
GLM

[Merriam]

Okay, now I'm convinced: Gertie is good and is trying to help Minerva and Albus in some way! And we're getting closer and closer to the fluff, aren't we?

Fabulous update, as always!

Merriam :-)

[Alesia]

I love this entire bit. I really like the idea that the Hogwarts we know has evolved under Albus tenure and so has his leadership style. I think that the idea of what Albus is attempting to do with Robert fits exactly with his character and also matches what we know of him having many friends and connections and is owed favors and loyality throughout the wizarding world.

[FireBird]

Ah, the meeting, finally! It was good to hear all the staff's opinions and I like the way they're attempting to arrive at a solution. Minerva basically working as Albus' right hand at the committee is a nice step forward in their professional relationship at least, or so it seems to me. Here's hoping Professor Pretnick can keep his job, and that that Dustern lady leaves very quickly. (BTW, what subject did she teach? I can't seem to remember.)
I was horrified at the corporal punishment, however, and I can't help thinking that Albus would find a way to get rid of that completely, no matter what the governors say.
Since Minerva is going to Hagrid's now, I'm hoping to find out what his problem is. Oh, and BTW, weekly updates are great!

[MMADfan]

Note: This chapter has a special "feature," which you will know when you encounter it. ;D

It's up a little early because I had some time this morning when I was procrastinating doing stuff I should have been doing . . . .

Thanks to everyone who has been reading and commenting! I love hearing from you -- it is encouraging!

Enjoy!

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LXXXVIII: Hagrid’s Hut

Minerva ran across the grounds, exhilarated by the fresh, cool air. The previous night’s rain had left fed the thirsty grass, and Minerva loved the way it felt beneath her paws, springy and still damp. Tempted though she was to play a while in her Animagus form, she held her feline aspect in tight rein and kept her mind focussed on her mission to help Hagrid. He was one of her oldest friends, after all, and her honorary “little” brother.

She reached the door to his cabin and scratched at it, meowing. Not even Brutus stirred within, so Minerva picked her way around to his vegetable gardens, then to the back, where his marrows and pumpkins grew and a trellis was filled with French beans. Hagrid wasn’t there, but Minerva was intrigued by the scents of his gardens and began sniffing around. Lovely here . . . perfect for a little catnap, she thought, while waiting for him. She settled into a nice tuft of grass in the shade at the base of the trellis and put her head on her paws.

Dozing with her eyes half-closed, Minerva heard voices coming from the other side of the cabin, and then Hagrid and Wilhelmina came around the corner. Wilhelmina, at about five-foot-three, seemed even smaller than usual, compared to Hagrid’s massive bulk. She held his left arm, almost in an embrace, and was speaking gently to him. It seemed an awkward moment to reveal herself, so Minerva remain quiet in the shadows and the cover of the grass and weeds.

“Oh, Hagrid, you mustn’t let such remarks bother you, sweetheart. You are a valued member of the Hogwarts staff, and much better liked than either Ogg or Dustern. And Dumbledore appreciates you.” Wilhelmina gave Hagrid’s arm a squeeze against her chest. “I appreciate you, Hagrid, love.”

Minerva’s eyes grew rounder as she saw Wilhelmina rub Hagrid’s chest and rise up on her tip-toes to kiss his sternum.

Hagrid sighed loudly and sniffed. His eyes were red, as if he’d been having a good cry. “I know yeh do, Meena, but yer goin’ away.” A great shuddering breath came from him. “Yer goin’ away ferever.”

“Sweetheart, would you really want me to pass up this opportunity? As I’ve tried to tell you before, it’s not as though I’m leaving here because I want to leave you. I am leaving because I want to work with the dragons at the Welsh preserve. You know that. And we’ll have visits.” Wilhelmina’s arms embraced Hagrid as she looked up at him to see his reaction.

Minerva felt very uncomfortable now. She wasn’t sure whether this was what it appeared to be; perhaps Wilhelmina and Hagrid were just good friends. Wilhelmina, Minerva knew, had been asked by Dumbledore to give Hagrid informal lessons as a boy and to use him as a sort of assistant to handle some of the larger or wilder creatures. They probably had grown close during that time. She was a mentor of sorts, a friend. But Minerva doubted her own reasoning as she watch Wilhelmina and Hagrid interact.

“I know that. But I’ll miss yeh. Yer my special little Meena-bird. An’ yeh’ll ferget all abou’ me. Yeh’ll find some dragon tamer . . . an’ I’ll have nobody.” It looked as if Hagrid was about to cry again.

“Hagrid, you know we’ve never made promises to each other . . . I . . . I am beginning to regret what we’ve had because now you are so upset. Perhaps I shouldn’t have . . . it may have been a mistake, knowing that I would leave eventually, and you would stay, for me to allow anything to happen between us. And I’ve been so concerned about you these last weeks, I have scarcely been able to consider my own feelings about it. Do you believe that I won’t miss you, too?”

A great tear rolled down Hagrid’s cheek. “But yeh have so much t’ look forward to. An’ me, I got Brutus an’ I got me work . . . oh, Meena, it was always you what made me days an’ nights ’appy ones.” Another tear trickled down his cheek.

“Was this all a mistake then, sweetheart? Would you go back and change it, if you could, and turn me away that first time?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t, yeh know that, me sweet Meena-bird, me sweet, sweet Meena-bird.” Hagrid looked tenderly down into the older witch’s face and caressed it. “Never.”

“Then let’s value what we had and not make a mess of it now. Let’s enjoy what time we have together while I’m still at the school. I am still here, Hagrid. No point in missing me yet.”

Minerva never would have thought the brusque, no-nonsense Care of Magical Creatures teacher could be so tender and so warm, though she had never considered it before, despite having become something of a friend over the last few months. A friend who never knew that Wilhelmina was having some sort of an affair with the assistant groundskeeper, who was also an old friend. While Minerva supposed that discretion was valuable in a closed community such as that at Hogwarts, Minerva wondered whether there was a particular reason for their apparent secrecy about the relationship. When had this begun? Wilhelmina was in her forties; Hagrid was not yet thirty. Had this begun when Hagrid was still a boy? When he should have been under her care? Was that the reason for the secrecy? Hagrid had only been thirteen when he’d been expelled, and Wilhelmina had started teaching the following year. Hagrid had been a big lad, at least seven feet even then, and yet an innocent, younger than his years, Minerva had always thought, despite his size. Had Grubbly-Plank been taking advantage of the half-giant during his formative adolescence? The thought made Minerva want to growl and sink her claws into flesh, but she calmed herself, remembering that she didn’t know the facts. This was all only speculation.

“Do you remember that first time, Hagrid?” Wilhelmina spread her hands upon his chest.

---

For the full version of this chapter in the Lemons Forum, click here!

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“Yeh know I do. Could never ferget it.” His voice came out roughly, but his expression was misty and tender, and he held her face in one of his hands as his other hand gently massaged the witch’s back. “I was a mite scared . . . afraid I’d hurt yeh.”

Minerva could see Wilhelmina’s broad grin. “Good thing I know a few spells from my work with the beasts.”

Minerva felt like growling again. Was she calling Hagrid a beast?

“Yeh used t’ need yer wand t’ cast it on yerself, remember?”

“Mmmm, and now, all I need is your wand,” the witch said with a naughty look, grasping at the front of Hagrid’s trousers. “I remember coming around back here, looking for you to help me with the Thestrals, and there you were, large as life, shirt and trousers off, standing barefoot on the slate next to the pump, washing yourself down. Oh, I had been watching you before this, so aware of you . . . how gentle yet strong you were . . . and I thought I should turn and leave. You hadn’t seen me, though, and I felt rooted to the spot. I had finally worked up the energy to turn and leave, when I was completely paralysed. You had removed your shorts and were soaping up, and I couldn’t move. I knew you would see me if you turned even a little, but I couldn’t move. And you did turn as you began to rinse yourself under the pump, you turned and saw me.”

Wilhelmina had begun to undo Hagrid’s shirt buttons as she spoke.

“I did. I saw yeh there, face turnin’ all red, an’ I tried t’ cover meself up, but I’d thrown me shorts over t’ bench where me towels and clothes all stood waitin’ fer me.”

Wilhelmina kissed Hagrid’s lower chest again and laid her cheek against him, closing her eyes. “You were beautiful there, Hagrid. So beautiful. Shh, don’t deny it. You do not see what I see when I look at you. I remember trying to apologise, then finally just saying that I would leave and you could get on with your bath, unless you wanted some help rinsing off.”

“An’ I did, but I was afraid t’ say anythin’, afraid I mistook yer meanin’,” he said gruffly.

“But you dropped your hands from in front of you, and I thought that you might like some help, after all.”

Minerva could see that both Wilhelmina and Hagrid had become flushed, and Wilhelmina’s breath was coming more rapidly.

“Let’s do that again, Hagrid, the way we did the first time.”

“There’s people at the castle now, though . . .”

“No one who will come down here. They’re all busy with their own concerns right now.” Wilhelmina looked up at Hagrid, supplicantly. “Please, sweetheart?”

If Minerva had wished earlier that she weren’t there, she wished it doubly so at that moment. Wilhelmina could only mean one thing. Hopefully, Hagrid would be adamant and bring her into his hut for whatever it was they were going to do. It was too late for Minerva to announce her presence, and she couldn’t leave now, even in her Animagus form – Hagrid would be sure to recognise her even if Wilhelmina didn’t.

Unfortunately, it appeared that Hagrid was easily persuaded, and he began to undress down to his shorts, neatly placing his clothing on the bench. He turned to Wilhelmina. “I don’t have any towels here now.”

Wilhelmina laughed. “I don’t believe we ever used the towels that particular day, anyway, Hagrid.”

Minerva tried to keep her eyes closed as Hagrid, wearing only his shorts, walked over to the Charmed pump and started it running. He picked up a bar of soap and began to lather his chest, then he splashed water on it to rinse, followed by ducking his head under the water and dousing his hair and beard. He stood and shook himself like a puppy, some of the water droplets landing on a very unhappy tabby Minerva.

Hagrid removed his shorts, and despite herself, Minerva watched as he began to soap himself. He then turned and made a show of spotting Wilhelmina and being embarrassed by it.

Minerva averted her gaze, but somehow her feline curiosity won out over her human embarrassment and slight distaste, and she found herself watching as Wilhelmina stepped forward to “help him” rinse. As she approached Hagrid, Wilhelmina shed her hat, her robe, her shoes, and then bent to roll off her stockings. Dressed only in a chemise, the witch stood on the slate beside the half-giant, she, looking even smaller, and he, even larger. Despite her embarrassment, Minerva found the tender care Wilhelmina was taking as she rinsed him, not neglecting his legs and feet, to be touching.

Minerva shut her eyes again and wished for the thousandth time that she had not come down here in her Animagus form, or that she hadn’t come down here at all.

“Yer so beautiful, Meena,” Minerva heard the half-giant declare, “but yeh should go. I want yeh . . . an’ yer beautiful an’ so good . . . but I don’ want t’ hurt yeh.” His voice was hoarse, but gentle.

Minerva opened her eyes to see Wilhelmina, cradled in Hagrid’s arms, lean forward and kiss him on the mouth, her arms threaded around his neck and through his hair. The kiss seemed to never end. When it did, Wilhelmina spoke in a hushed voice.

“I know a spell for birthing Thestral foals and Unicorns and such. I can use that. You don’t need to worry a bit. . . .” She caressed Hagrid’s brow. “I’ve been thinking about you for a long time, Hagrid. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help myself. I honestly didn’t plan on ever doing anything about it, although I did think about how . . . well, how it could be done. But it was just a daydream, a fantasy, until I saw you standing there, so strong and gentle. If you don’t want this, just say the word, and I will leave and never mention it again.”

They really were still reenacting their first time together, Minerva thought. She hoped that it had been over quickly then and would be this time, as well. She closed her eyes again, but opened them to a slit as she heard them moving from the pump. Maybe they were going inside now and she could make her escape.

No such luck, though, as Hagrid carried Wilhelmina over to a cut tree trunk that could serve as a table to an ordinary witch or wizard, but which apparently Hagrid used as a stool. He sat down and Wilhelmina settled into his lap. Minerva closed her eyes, wishing that her feline ears weren’t so keen. She could hear everything, and she wished she couldn’t.

Finally, Wilhelmina cried out, “Oh, Hagrid! Oh, god, Hagrid, I love you, my sweet darling!”

Then Hagrid sighed and whispered, “Meena, Meena!”

Minerva opened one eye. Hagrid’s head was resting on top of Wilhelmina’s, and she leaned into his embrace.

After what seemed hours to Minerva, Hagrid said, “Yeh didn’t say that the first time, Meena. Yeh ain’t never said it afore.”

“I do love you, though, you know, Hagrid. And even after I leave here and we both get on with our lives, I will still love you. You will always hold a very special place in my heart. I am sorry I never told you that before. But you take things so strongly to heart, and I knew I wouldn’t be staying and you wouldn’t be leaving.”

“I’m glad yeh tol’ me, Meena-bird. It makes it easier fer me, knowin’ it’s not so easy fer you. Yeh’ve always known I love yeh, even if I stopped tellin’ yeh after a while. An’ now I know yeh love me, too. It’s better that way.”

“Yes, it is.” Wilhelmina leaned back and looked into Hagrid’s face. “It was a mistake. It was wrong of me not to tell you. I am sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think I knew . . . or I used t’ think I knew. But I began t’ doubt it . . . yer so happy t’ be off fer Wales.” Hagrid’s eyes filled with tears again.

Wilhelmina reached up and wiped his face. “Happy to be off for Wales, Hagrid, not happy to be leaving you behind.”

“Then why can’t I come?” Hagrid’s face was sorrowful.

“We’ve discussed all this before, Hagrid.” Wilhelmina sighed. “But let’s get our clothes and go in now. We can have a nice cup of tea and talk,” the witch grinned, adding, “and then you can have more fun with your Meena-bird!”

Hagrid laughed and stood. Wilhelmina Summoned her wand, then used it to gather their clothes, and the two went into his hut.

Minerva let out a huge sigh of relief, then stood and stretched. Well, now she knew what had been bothering Hagrid. She certainly wished she had found out in some other way, though. She hoped never to be privy to such a thing again.

Minerva began to trot back up to the castle. Her eyes narrowed. She would have a word with the current Gryffindor Head of House later, though. She wanted to find out when this had all started, and if it had been when Hagrid was still a boy, she would let her have a piece of her mind, that was for certain. If it had started later . . . well, they both seemed happy enough, the only problem being their impending separation. But Hagrid would get over it eventually. It might be more difficult for him, since it was quite likely that Wilhelmina was the only witch he’d ever been with, and he wasn’t exactly what most witches were looking for in a wizard – whether sexually, romantically, or for a life-partner. But she’d be at the school after Wilhelmina left; she would make sure to integrate Hagrid into some of the castle activities, more than he had been when Dippet had been Headmaster. Dumbledore would be quite a different sort of Headmaster, and very good for Hogwarts, Minerva was sure.

---

Note: Hope you were amused, at least, by this presumably somewhat unexpected chapter!

Next: Minerva meets with Albus and later confronts Wilhelmina about what she witnessed in Hagrid's garden.

[Hogwarts Duo]

Oh dear!!!! Poor Minerva being put in such an awkward position as having to listen to Hagrid and Wilhemenia...eeek. Guess now we all know what Hagrid's problem is, don't we? It has to be tough for him to find someone compatible and willing to accept him for his kind nature and warm heart. Still, I have to say that Albus is DEFINITELY more to my liking for those sort of encounters....yum. Just make sure it's Richard Harris' version of Albus, thank you very much!!

You HAVE to update soon now! I'm anxiously awaiting the little 'chat' Minerva has with Wilhemenia about what she saw. How on earth would you ever begin to broach that subject??? TeeHee! ;D

Curiosity has gotten the better of me so now I'm off to see what was behind the lemon scented curtain in the middle of the chapter!!!

TTFN,
GLM

[Trulyamused]

Its been a while since I reviewed. So, I will do so now. I LOVE THIS STORY. The last bit with Tabby/Minerva was great. Cat's are natural voyeurs so it was perfect that she watched.(g) I'm really looking forward to the next part.

Truly

[sevherfan]

I know I'm a sick bastard, but am I the only one who was reminded of a certain scene in An Act of Love? Albus disturbed that Severus was disturbed, and the word wank was definitely used. hehe.

[MMADfan]

Notes: Thanks for all your comments, both here and in the Lemons forum, for the last chapter. Here is one more nice long chapter for you before I go out of town for a while. It'll be a bit of a dry spell, but I'm sure you'll survive!

This chapter is broken into three parts because of its length. Enjoy!

LXXXIX: Many Meetings

Minerva changed her robes, feeling somewhat sticky after her Animagus outing, and put on the saffron and raspberry robes that were fast becoming her favourites, and which Albus had seemed to like. As she rearranged her hair, she wished she knew of some self-Obliviate spell she could use to selectively remove a portion of the memory of what she had witnessed in Hagrid’s gardens. Despite her embarrassment, though, Minerva was determined to talk to Wilhelmina about it. If the teacher had taken advantage of Hagrid when he was a youth, or worse, a child, Minerva would see to it that the witch paid for it. Otherwise, she would just stay out of it and be available to provide Hagrid with support and friendship after Wilhelmina left Hogwarts.

An owl flew into Minerva’s bedroom, a small scroll of parchment clutched in its talons. The little owl didn’t wait for a treat or a response, but just flew back out the open window after depositing the scroll on the vanity in front of her. A school owl, most likely.

Minerva broke the purple wax seal on the parchment. A note from Albus.

“14 July 1957

“Dear Minerva,

“Thank you very much for agreeing to act as my representative on the committee. I have every faith that you will serve admirably.

“Although we met this morning before breakfast, I agree that we should meet again before the first committee meeting so that you are confident that you understand my proposal and my objectives. We can also discuss the issues you should pay closest attention to and include in your reports to me. Can you meet with me at two o’clock in my office? I will be attending lunch; if this is an inconvenient time, we can reschedule then.

“I very much enjoyed our early morning tea today. I hope you don’t mind having risen so early to drink tea with an old wizard!

“I hope to see you soon,

“Yours,

“Albus”

After witnessing Hagrid and Wilhelmina in the garden, Minerva had completely forgotten the slight offense she had taken when Albus had dismissed her after the meeting that morning. From the sound of this note, however, it seemed that she really had been over-sensitive. He mentioned their pre-breakfast meeting, after all, and he said that he had enjoyed it. But then, what would he have said? “My dear, I did so enjoy our little meeting this morning, but I found parting with a kiss unprofessional under the circumstances?” Hardly.

Minerva sighed and checked the time. Only another fifteen minutes before lunch would be served. Not enough time to find Wilhelmina and talk to her – if she wasn’t still down at Hagrid’s. Minerva did not want to imagine what kind of “fun” they might be having in his little cabin. Minerva smirked. “Meena-bird.” What a nickname! But rather cute, actually, if one didn’t think about – or witness – some of the details that went along with their relationship. She wondered how many people knew they were involved. Well, she might find that out when she talked to Wilhelmina. The sooner the better, before she could become too uncomfortable with the idea and lose her nerve.

Minerva leisurely made her way down to the Great Hall, arriving at the same time as Johannes and Professor MacAirt. Minerva watched as the two approached the table. This wasn’t the first time she had seen the two in cheerful conversation. She wondered if they were a couple. After what she’d seen in the garden between Hagrid and Wilhelmina, nothing would surprise her, she thought. Birnbaum was much younger than Hafrena MacAirt, by at least thirty years or so, although he was no longer the young man he had been when he had first started teaching at Hogwarts when Minerva was a student. They could just be very good friends. Then again, maybe they were more than that. Or had been at one point. Minerva supposed that living in such relatively close quarters with so few opportunities to socialise with other adult wizards outside the school, it might be natural for some of the staff to become lovers occasionally. Perhaps Albus and Gertrude . . . no, she was not going to contemplate that.

Minerva was one of the first to arrive for lunch. Hagrid and Wilhelmina showed up early, but not together, Hagrid following Wilhelmina into the Great Hall about five minutes after she arrived. Both of them looked quite happy, in contrast to Hagrid’s recent gloominess, and they sat next to each other discussing Flesh-eating Slugs. Minerva thought that was an even worse topic than dragon mating habits, and it appeared that others at the table were in agreement with that assessment. Fortunately, before anyone started throwing their bread rolls at the oblivious couple to get their attention, Albus arrived. With the exception of Professor Dustern, who looked as though she had bitten into a bitter lemon, everyone seemed pleased to see him – and not only because the Headmaster’s arrival interrupted a discussion of Flesh-eating Slug excretions and their acidity relative to their sliminess. People may not always agree with Dumbledore, Minerva thought, but they generally respected and liked him. She was surprised, now that she was aware that Dustern didn’t like Albus, that she could see the woman’s dislike so clearly. On the other hand, perhaps Dustern simply had behaved more professionally in the past, and now that she was leaving Hogwarts, she didn’t feel under any obligation to hide her feelings.

Minerva smiled at Albus as he took the seat between her and Gertrude, then was pleased when Poppy came in and sat on her other side. Poppy had been one of the fence-sitters during the meeting that morning, and Minerva could understand her reasoning. But the conversation at the table was light and didn’t touch on the subject that had brought them all together in the middle of the summer. Flitwick seemed to be making himself at home and was in a spirited debate with Professor James about the Chudley Cannons and the Holyhead Harpies. It seemed that James was an ardent follower of the Cannons, despite their many years of being close to last in the Quidditch standings, and little Flitwick was fond of the Harpies. He reddened quite cutely when James accused him of just liking a witch on a broomstick, but laughed good-naturedly.

Then Professor MacAirt asked Gertrude about the party. Apparently, she had been invited, as a relative through Alroy and Aine, but had been unable to attend because she had been on a divination retreat somewhere in Canada and had only arrived back in the country on Friday. Unfortunately, conversation was at a lull at that point, and it seemed everyone had heard Hafrena’s question and were eagerly awaiting Gertrude’s answer.

“It was lovely, Hafrena. It is a pity you were unable to attend. The young Blacks were quite well-feted,” Gertrude responded.

Hafrena knit her brow. “But I’d heard there was some disruption, though I didn’t hear the details.”

“Oh, yes, I heard that, too,” Professor Evandras said with a giggle. “Something about that Valeriana Yaxley – it was in the Prophet.”

“Oh,” Hafrena said. “In that case, I’ll just look there, then.” The old witch began eating her noodles, apparently having lost any interest in the subject. Minerva remembered that she had been one of the witches who had been involved in Gertrude’s conspiracy to unmask Valeriana, so to speak, and she no doubt did not wish to embarrass the Headmaster by discussing the witch in front of him.

“But it sounded so intriguing! Is it true what the Prophet said about her interrupting your father’s toast, Gertrude?” The Ancient Runes teacher was persistent. And a gossip. Minerva could see why she hadn’t been included in the conspiracy. She never could have kept her mouth shut.

Poppy spoke up, apparently in an attempt to deflect Evandras. “Minerva told me that the account in the newspaper was accurate, Lillian, so if you have read that, you have learned all there is to know.”

“Oh, but surely not! Minerva! I didn’t know you were there! Tell us all about it!” The witch was practically squealing in her desire to know all the sordid details.

“Leave the poor girl alone to finish her lunch, Lillian,” Madam Perlecta said, intervening.

“I just wanted to know if she really made a scene and announced her own engagement at another witch’s engagement party!”

Minerva finally decided that all this back-and-forth was worse than simply addressing the subject, especially given the fact that Albus was studiously cutting his meat into smaller and smaller pieces while trying not to look as though he were paying attention, and so she said, “Yes, I was there. It was a lovely occasion. I was very fortunate to have been invited. And yes, Valeriana Yaxley was also there, and yes, she had the immense bad taste to announce her engagement to Francis Flint in the midst of Mr Gamp’s toast to the engaged couple.” Trying to gauge Albus’s reaction without appearing to be looking at him, Minerva added, “The assembled company greeted the news with astonishment, more at its delivery than at its content, since Yaxley had Flint hanging off her arm the entire time they were there. She is a thoroughly unlikeable witch, regardless of her apparent charm and wit. The general consensus was that she had gone off her nut some time ago and this was the final sign of it. I felt somewhat sorry for her fiancé; I don’t believe he knew what he was in for with her until it was too late. But I have no more desire to discuss that witch. I have seen and heard all I need to, and she is unworthy of another thought – from any of us. I must say, however, that Professor Gamp’s father was the picture of aplomb, despite the rude interruption, and I enjoyed the Gamp hospitality very much while I was there.” That may have been a slight exaggeration, but not by too much, Minerva realised upon reflection.

After the others had gone back to their usual conversations, and Evandras’s curiosity had apparently been satisfied, Gertrude leaned toward Minerva, speaking to her across Albus’s plate, which now looked as though it had contained mince, rather than steak, and said, “Thank you, Minerva. Lillian isn’t ill-intended, simply too curious. And I appreciate your remark about my father, as well. Father was quite taken aback, and he wasn’t sure afterward whether he shouldn’t have interrupted the witch.” Gertie smirked. “I told him he did just fine. Let her embarrass herself without any help from others.”

Minerva smiled at Gertrude. “I did have an interesting few days there, Professor, and it was very good to meet your son – by the by, my mother wrote to Robert. I think they’re making arrangements for her to visit Thea very soon.”

“Good, thank you very much.” The older witch smiled warmly at Minerva.

“Mother sees it as a nice holiday for her and my father – so she won’t be out carousing in Amsterdam on her own!” Minerva grinned.

“Good thing, too. Even the most level-headed witch can become tempted!” Gertie chuckled at her own joke.

“Professor Dumbledore, it doesn’t appear the meal was to your liking,” Minerva said, looking at the mess still on his plate. “Perhaps we should call a house-elf and get you something else.”

“No, no, that’s all right, my dear. I ate plenty. And there’s trifle for pudding!” Albus said brightly.

“Ah, well, you can have mine, too, then,” Minerva smiled at him. “Although I do hope you have a healthier supper!”

“I can’t take your dessert, Minerva,” Albus began.

“You most certainly can! I’m not terribly fond of trifle, and I ate too many noodles, anyway. I’m quite filled up on my starches.”

“Well, if you’re sure . . .”

“Of course, I’m sure, Albus. We can’t have you fainting during our meeting this afternoon, after all.” She smiled at him and patted his arm lightly, then turned back to the remains of her own meal, finishing her vegetables.

As she watched the plates disappear to be replaced by dishes of trifle, she felt someone kicking her ankle under the table. Scowling, Minerva turned to Poppy.

“Nice lunch, Poppy?”

“Very. I haven’t seen you to talk, though – and I’d love to catch up with you!”

Minerva forbore telling her that they had only just seen each other a few days ago, instead saying, “Well, why don’t we go off for a chat now, then? I’m sure you can do without the trifle after a week with Violet – and you’ll be visiting your gran soon. No doubt she’ll feed you up.”

It was slightly mean of her, Minerva thought, knowing that Poppy enjoyed trifle, but Poppy agreed readily enough, and they set off for the matron’s quarters near the infirmary. They could drink tea and gossip there. Minerva wondered whether Poppy knew about Wilhelmina and Hagrid . . . but she was loathe to mention it, if she didn’t know. Hagrid was losing his Meena-bird shortly, anyway; no point in gossiping about them. It might hurt Hagrid more than he already was.

Minerva had tea with Poppy, who told her that she felt Minerva had handled Evandras’s curiosity very well.

“I hope that it didn’t bother Professor Dumbledore, though. Bringing it up that way, in public . . . .”

“Albus Dumbledore is a grown wizard, Minerva. Don’t worry so much about it – just speak your mind, as always, and you’ll be fine. Besides, this certainly isn’t the first time he’s heard her name come up in conversation before, even here at Hogwarts.” Poppy paused. “Although I do think that he seems more uncomfortable than usual, you’re right about that, Min. Minerva,” she corrected herself. Gazing at Minerva, she added, “I wonder why that would be. You’d think that over the passage of time, he’d have grown less sensitive about her, not more.”

“Yes, well, this was about her pending marriage. I doubt the other conversations were on that topic.”

“No,” Poppy said slowly, “no, that’s true; they were more along the lines of wondering why she had quit the Board of Governors in such a snit. And a few people wondered why she had stood outside the castle shrieking Dumbledore’s name. He didn’t seem terribly bothered by it, though.”

“She didn’t! You didn’t tell me that before, Poppy!”

“Yes, well, it was after he refused to see her in private before the midsummer Board of Governors meeting. They hadn’t seen each other, obviously, since he had kicked her out of his cottage. I think he would have tolerated her presence on the Board, and been professional about it, but he was under no obligation to meet with her in private. He apparently sent a message out to her that if she wished to discuss Hogwarts business, she should do so with the Headmaster or during the Board of Governors meeting, but they had nothing to discuss on any other subject. That’s when she went outside and started screeching up at the castle. I doubt Albus could even hear her – he had the most peculiar rooms at the time; I could never find them on my own – hidden near Gryffindor Tower.”

“Poor Albus! And I bet he could hear her. I could see the front lawn quite clearly from them although I could never find the windows from the outside when I tried. It was hidden from the outside, not the other way around.”

Poppy’s eyebrows rose. “And when were you in his rooms, Minerva? I had to go there in my capacity as matron, or I doubt I’d ever have laid eyes on them.”

Minerva was pleased not to blush. “As you say, Poppy, we have been friends for quite some time.”

“Yes?” Poppy was still waiting.

She should just tell her she’d visited him after she’d been out of school, Minerva thought, and he’d invited her up to his rooms, but that seemed very suggestive to Minerva’s own mental ears, so she said instead, “I was a Gryffindor prefect, remember, then Head Girl. I, too, had business with him.”

“I was a Hufflepuff prefect, and I was never in his rooms. I don’t know of any other prefect who was, either!”

“I was also in Animagus training with him, Poppy. And he was my Head of House, too, not just the Deputy Headmaster.” Minerva didn’t know why she felt defensive, but at Poppy’s continued waiting silence, she added, “The first time was during that whole business with the Chamber of Secrets, if you must know, Poppy. Well, actually, that wasn’t the first time . . . .” Minerva hesitated, then regretted saying anything.

“When was the first time, then, Minerva?” Poppy wore a look of consternation now, not her earlier one of amused curiosity.

“It’s none of your business, Poppy. Now let’s talk of something else.”

“No, now you wait, Minerva McGonagall. Whatever respect I have for the Headmaster, your relationship has been very tense these last few months, at least on your part. And you can’t deny it, either, or you wouldn’t have been in my office last week yelling about fucking him.” Poppy blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way. Well, in a way . . . . What I meant was . . . Minerva, dear, I don’t want to accuse anyone of anything improper, but when you were a student, the Professor . . . did he ever – ”

Minerva stood, irate. “Poppy Pomfrey! How dare you even suggest such a thing! Of Albus Dumbledore! And of me! He would never – the mere thought – he’s a good man, Poppy, I trust him completely, and I will not hear – ”

“Hush, hush, Minerva, I’m sorry . . . I never thought such a thing of him. Honestly. Please sit down. But when you won’t tell me why you were in his rooms as a student . . . it is just unusual, that’s all. I’m sorry. I know Dumbledore better than that. He is most trustworthy. And I know he’s a very good friend of yours. And I’m glad you are becoming closer. But you have to admit, it sounds suspicious that you won’t say why you were with him in his rooms as a student.”

Minerva lowered herself to the settee. “I did not tell you because you would want the circumstances explained, and I am not at liberty to discuss them.” She sighed, thinking. “I will tell you what I can, but you must promise not to ask any questions. And not to ever discuss this with anyone, ever. Not even me. It must be as though we never had this conversation.”

Poppy looked astonished at this request, but agreed to Minerva’s terms, and Minerva continued. “You and I weren’t yet as good friends at the time, but you may remember that the September of my sixth year, your fourth, I didn’t take the Hogwarts Express with everyone else.” Poppy nodded. “That’s because I was already at Hogwarts. I had been for a few days. And the very first night, well, the castle was very deserted, and I was afraid to stay in Gryffindor Tower by myself. The castle just felt . . . eerie, I suppose. So Professor Dumbledore allowed me to stay in the guest room attached to his suite. It was very kind of him. The next day, more of the staff returned, and the castle didn’t seem so odd, so I went back to my dormitory. The next time was during the attacks. I thought I had some information for him, so he brought me there to discuss it. Then during my final summer, you know that I had tutoring from Professor Dumbledore, and sometimes we would meet in his sitting room for tea. Professor Gamp was often, though not always, present. It was all very above-board, although it might not have appeared that way to others had they been aware of it.” Minerva remembered meeting Dustern in the corridor on the way back to Gryffindor Tower early in the morning. It had been a very good thing that Dumbledore had had Wilspy fetch her robes for her.

“Oh! Well, that does all seem rather innocent. And very good of him to let you stay in his guest room. Very understanding.” Poppy nodded. “But why were you at Hogwarts early?”

Minerva frowned at her friend, who had obviously already forgotten her promise not to ask questions. “It was about a Transfiguration project. Really, Poppy! You did promise not to ask questions!”

“I’m sorry . . . I’m sure there’s a good reason for that.” Poppy looked at Minerva curiously. “I never did believe that bit about the Transfiguration tutoring before your seventh year, you know. Most people didn’t give it a second thought . . . but especially after Hagrid told me that you spent so much time with both Dumbledore and Gamp, and you spent hours at a time in your Animagus form . . . .” Poppy shrugged. “I can’t even begin to imagine what it was all about, but if Gamp was involved, and no doubt Dippet knew – and your parents, as well – I thought you would eventually tell me about it. Then, until just now when you mentioned Albus’s old rooms, I’d forgotten all about it. And you still won’t tell me.”

“It isn’t my business to tell you. Unless you one day become Headmistress of Hogwarts, you will have to remain with your curiosity unassuaged, I’m afraid,” Minerva responded. “But now I must be on my way. Dumbledore and I have a meeting about the meeting tonight. Too many meetings for one summer’s day, I’d say!”

As Poppy showed Minerva to the door, Minerva turned to her friend and hugged her.

Poppy smiled at the uncharacteristically spontaneous show of affection. “What was that for?”

“Thank you for being my friend, Poppy, and for being concerned about me – even if you were so wide of the mark as to be insulting!” Minerva joked.

“You know, Min – erva, if you ever do need to talk about anything, I’m here. And I can be discreet. I like hearing gossip more than I do repeating it, you know. And if there’s ever anything troubling you . . . Albus . . . or anything else . . .”

“Thanks, Poppy. I will remember that, but now I really must be going, or I will be as late as I have been annoyed with Albus for being!”

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post.

LXXXIX: Many Meetings, continued

As Minerva rode the stairs up to the Headmaster’s office, she wondered whether anyone else had ever thought that Dumbledore had “taken advantage” of her when she was a student. She doubted it. Poppy would have said something about it now, surely, when she said that she had never thought such a thing before that afternoon. And Gertrude certainly knew them both well enough to know that Albus would never engage in untoward activities with a student – with her. He had even been concerned with the mere appearance of impropriety the night that she had stayed in his guest room shortly after Myrtle had been killed.

It was just as well that she had never told anyone of her feelings toward Albus, Minerva thought with a sigh; they might believe that Albus had done something inappropriate when she had been his student to encourage those feelings in her. A schoolgirl’s crush. But whatever he had or hadn’t done, hers had been no mere student crush, as she had so hoped it would be. Even when Rudolf had asked her to marry him, her first thought had been, not of a potential life with the German wizard, but of Albus, and of leaving him behind her forever. She had been out of school for more than six years by that time, and hadn’t seen Albus in over a year, yet her first thought had been of him. No, it hadn’t been a crush; it was more like a disease, or a curse, or a madness. A monomania that occasionally subsided with time, but always to return, and now returned to dominate her life. No wonder that Quin had picked up on it so easily in his divination. What was it he had said, in that lyrical Irish voice of his? ’Tis dominatin’ your life, Minerva, this sadness that you do not have, this emptiness that you do not feel, this longing that is not there . . . .

Minerva shook herself. She was almost to the top of the long, winding stairs. Soon she would be in Albus’s presence, and she had to maintain her calm . . . she would demonstrate an attitude of friendly warmth and professional concern for the task at hand. The door opened before her as she arrived on the landing at the top of the stair. Minerva smiled slightly. Nice to be expected, she supposed.

She stepped into the Headmaster’s office. Fawkes was there on his perch, head tucked beneath a flame-coloured wing, joining the portraits in their afternoon nap. Albus was at his desk, busily writing something – using the plumy purple quill she had given him, she noticed. He had seemed pleased with its variable width charm. Minerva smiled, thinking of how much Albus liked to play. They’d had quite a bit of fun during her Animagus training, and afterward, during the summer she had spent helping with the wards – once, of course, she had got past her fear that he could read her mind and would learn of her feelings for him, and she had become more comfortable in his presence. Or at least, less uncomfortable with her own feelings, she supposed.

She had rushed so from Poppy’s rooms, she hadn’t had time to stop and retrieve any parchment or her quill. Well, Albus surely had plenty.

Albus looked up from his writing and smiled at her. “Good afternoon, Minerva! I’m glad you could make it.”

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit late, Albus – ”

“I don’t believe you are, but if you were, it would certainly be understandable. And after all of the times I have been late for our meetings, it would be extremely churlish of me to make a fuss about it. Please, have a seat!” He waved his quill, indicating one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m also afraid that I’ve come a bit unprepared, Albus. I’ve come straight from Poppy’s, you see, and didn’t have time to stop and get a quill or parchment.”

Albus smiled and handed her a brilliant red quill with gold tipping the vane. “And there’s some fresh parchment there,” he said, pointing to one end of his large desk. “The quill is charmed to draw from my bright blue ink. I hope that suits?”

“Yes, yes, that is fine. Is this feather from Fawkes?”

“Yes, my dear, and I do keep it here in my office desk. Wouldn’t do to have it lying about, now, would it, Fawkes?”

Having heard his name, the bird had woken and was looking down at them; he trilled a sweet reply to Dumbledore’s question. Minerva smiled at the sound. Fawkes was a most unusual “pet,” although Albus had told her that Fawkes had simply chosen him as his human companion, and so was not “owned” in the way one might own a more common pet. As she came to know Albus better, it was no surprise to Minerva that the phoenix had chosen that particular wizard out of all those in the world. Albus had come upon him during his travels as a young man, and Fawkes had been with him ever since.

Minerva sat in the chair, asking questions and taking notes, for over an hour. She thought Albus was looking a bit tired, and despite the two portions of trifle, he hadn’t eaten well that noon, and she doubted he’d had much sleep the night before – as little or less than she’d had.

“Albus, do you mind if we take a break for a bit? I think you’ve answered most of my questions, anyway, and perhaps we could both do with a cup of tea.”

“I am sorry, my dear! If you are tired, we certainly may take a break. I had hoped that Horace would be able to join us and answer your questions about the potion, but he needed to return to his niece. Completely understandable, if somewhat lamentable, that he couldn’t be here this afternoon.” Albus had briefed her on Belby’s response to Slughorn’s inquiry, which had arrived midmorning, after the staff meeting.

“I think I understand that part of it – although I would like to read Belby’s letter myself,” Minerva answered.

“Of course, here you are.” He handed her the letter.

“Thank you,” Minerva said, not looking at the parchment. “But what of that tea? You look as though you could do with a cup, yourself.”

Albus smiled. “I am quite all right, but I’m sure that Wilspy will be quite pleased to provide us with some afternoon refreshment.”

He called Wilspy, who promised to bring tea and biscuits immediately.

“Shall we move to the sitting area, Albus? It might be more comfortable.”

“Well, I just . . . I’ve been trying to get this work done, you see . . . but yes, you’re right. Of course.” Albus stood. “After you, Professor!” He smiled and gestured toward the armchairs on the other side of the room.

Minerva handed his special quill back to him, then went to sit in the area beside the fireplace, choosing the chair closest to the window and leaving the large overstuffed chair for Albus, if he wanted it. There was a pleasant breeze coming through the open window, and Minerva turned toward it and took a deep breath of fresh air. When she turned back, Albus was still fiddling with things at his desk.

“Aren’t you joining me, Albus?”

“Oh, yes, just a minute . . . just tidying . . .”

As he crossed the room to join her, the tea tray popped in, minus Wilspy, and deposited itself on the low table in front of her.

“Shall I be mother, Albus?”

“That would be lovely, my dear,” he said, sitting in the comfy chair beside her. “I believe she brought us a nice, light Darjeeling. You may want it just with a little lemon rather than milk. That is how I would like mine – and just a touch of honey, please.”

Minerva smiled, knowing that Albus’s idea of “just a touch” was likely more than hers.

“You tell me ‘when,’ all right, Albus?” Minerva asked as she dribbled honey into the amber tea. Sure enough, the “touch” of honey was at least three times the amount she could have borne to have in her tea. She placed a lemon wedge on Albus’s saucer to allow him to add the lemon to taste, then poured her own tea and squeezed just a bit of lemon into it.

Minerva leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and breathed in the aroma of the tea.

“Are you very tired, Minerva?” Albus asked softly. “We could meet again just before dinner if you’d like to go back to your rooms for a while.”

“No, I’m just enjoying the tea, the breeze, and your company, Albus.” She smiled warmly at him. “But if you were planning on napping . . . I can read over Belby’s letter and leave it on your desk for you.”

Albus smiled, eyes twinkling. “I don’t nap every afternoon, you know, Minerva.”

“Naps are healthy. Mother always said so. She says they are better than sleeping in in the morning.” Minerva frowned. “Of course, Mother never can sleep late mornings, but I still think she’s right about naps.”

Albus chuckled. “Well, right or not, I hadn’t planned on a nap this afternoon, although I did think I might try for an earlier night than usual.”

Minerva took a sip of her tea. “When did you finally get to bed last night, Albus? It sounded from what you said that it must have been quite late.”

“Oh, almost one o’clock, I believe.”

“Albus! You need your sleep – you had a hard day yesterday. You should have gone to bed soon after Slughorn and I left.”

“Gertie and I had a lot to discuss, then I had some research I wanted to do . . . I just lost track of time.”

“You need to be at your best during the meeting this evening. Perhaps you should reconsider that nap.”

Albus remembered her insistence the evening before that he shut his eyes for a while, and how lovely it had been to wake with her there.

“Ah, but, my dear, I do not always have you there to lay me down then wake me up as you did yesterday evening.” Albus had intended it to be a joke, but as the words came out of his mouth, he found they sounded quite different from how he had intended them; instead, they sounded much more as he actually felt: that it had been lovely to have her there with him and to see her face when he awoke. It was all he could do to keep from blushing crimson. He sipped his tea, fussing with the lemon.

“Well, if that’s what it takes, I’ll tuck you in and come by and wake you up,” Minerva answered.

She was blushing. He had succeeded in embarrassing the poor girl, Albus thought.

“No, no, my dear. Not that that wouldn’t be lovely, of course, but I was joking. I have my Big Ben. I can set that. It’s a bit less gentle than awakening to your voice . . .” And there he was again, on about her. He never should have left his desk. What was the matter with him that he could turn into such a fool around Minerva? She looked so beautiful; she was wearing the same frock she’d worn to breakfast that day in her rooms. But she was saying something . . . .

“. . . glad to, Albus. But it’s up to you. I do still need to read Belby’s letter, and there are a few things I wanted to do this afternoon. So if you’d like to take a nap, or just rest for a while, I’d be happy to come by later and we can meet for a half hour or so before dinner. And if you aren’t up, I won’t mind replacing Big Ben, whoever he is.”

Albus chuckled. “Big Ben is my Muggle alarm clock, Minerva. Rather noisy thing, but effective! I wind it once a day. It’s quite fun!” He smiled at her, relaxed once more.

“Oh, I thought maybe Big Ben was another house-elf or something. It was puzzling!” Minerva laughed. “So why don’t we do that? We’ll finish our tea, I’ll take care of a few things, come back, read the letter, and if you’re not up, I’ll come wake you about a half hour or so before supper.”

Albus nodded. “All right, my dear. If you insist. But I can’t promise I will sleep!”

As Minerva made her way to the Gryffindor Head’s rooms twenty minutes later, she wondered about Albus. He seemed to be behaving rather peculiarly, but she couldn’t put her finger exactly on what it was. Perhaps he was only overtired. That would also explain his odd behaviour that morning after the meeting.

She hoped that Albus wasn’t overtaxing himself. He was the most powerful wizard alive, but that didn’t mean that he had endless reserves of energy, after all. And despite the fact that everyone touted the fact that Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald and returned to Hogwarts the following week, Minerva knew it wasn’t as simple as that. He had been dreadfully exhausted; she had only seen him occasionally during the months after the war ended, but there had been a look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before . . . almost haunted. It seemed a long time before he was truly himself again, and not merely acting the part for those around him. Minerva wished that Albus had felt comfortable enough with her to have relaxed and been himself with her, but although they had gradually found their footing again after the incident at her parents’ house, Albus still withheld his feelings from her. And perhaps whatever it was that he had done, whatever it was that he had suffered, in order to defeat Grindelwald . . . perhaps it was something he couldn’t speak of with anyone. Minerva remembered the bleak look that had crossed her mentor’s face when he had told her that Grindelwald’s defeat had not come without great loss. She wondered if she would ever know the full extent of what Albus had meant by those words.

At least this situation with Pretnick was not as serious as a war with a Dark Wizard. And she was here to help him with it. Minerva smiled. He had let her talk him into going up into the Headmaster’s suite and resting. She hoped he really would take a nap. She felt as though she could use one herself, in fact, and she was younger than he . . . much younger. Somehow, that was a very gloomy thought to Minerva, and she sighed.

Remembering why she was on her way to see Wilhelmina, Minerva steeled herself for an uncomfortable conversation. Perhaps this wasn’t any of her business . . . but she had felt somewhat responsible for Hagrid her last year at Hogwarts, ever since she’d bought him that broom, and on returning, she found those feelings reawakened. They hadn’t seen one another very often over the years, but she’d always found him a comfortable soul, easy to be around, and seeing him after a long separation was never difficult or awkward. Minerva smiled. Another relationship that was easier than the one with Albus. But she would deal with It and continue to work on their friendship.

She had been a bit embarrassed at her thoughts when Albus had mentioned his nap . . . she would have liked to have tucked him in . . . given him a kiss to dream on . . . lain down beside him . . . No! Minerva almost groaned aloud. This was exactly the sort of thing she was supposed to be avoiding. And the kiss would not be for Albus . . . it would be for her. For her dreams.

Albus would find her thoughts about him disturbing, without a doubt. Here he had spoken to her as a friend, as a daughter, perhaps, and she was perverting it with her own desires for him. But just to lie down beside him . . . .

Minerva arrived at the seventh floor in a foul mood, having lectured herself about the necessity of reining It in and getting It under control. And now she was about to confront another witch about her sex life. As though it were any of her business. No, it wasn’t about the witch’s sex life, Minerva reminded herself, it was about Hagrid, and whether he had been exploited as a youth. Minerva sighed. Poor Hagrid. He was vulnerable even now, really, odd as that might sound to some. Not naive, perhaps, but an innocent, nonetheless, and despite the hardships he’d endured.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Minerva knocked on the Gryffindor Head’s door portrait. As the portrait disappeared to announce her presence, Minerva began to have second thoughts about what she was about to do. But it was too late to turn back now; the door opened to reveal a smiling witch.

“Minerva! What a pleasant surprise! I thought you might be . . . someone else.”

“Were you expecting someone? I can come back . . .”

“No, no, not at all. Come in, come in. Tea?” the Gryffindor Head of House offered.

“No, thank you, Wilhelmina. I just had some.”

“Well, what brings you by?” Wilhelmina asked. “I’m not sure we should discuss the Pretnick situation before the meeting.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” Minerva perched in the chair across from the sofa where Wilhelmina sat. Minerva drew a deep breath. “You may remember that I asked you about Hagrid and whether you noticed that he seemed depressed lately.”

“Yes, but he seemed quite happy at lunch.”

Minerva had to hand it to the witch. Not a blush or a twitch of an eyelash. Not bad for a Gryffindor. “Yes, he did. But you see, after the meeting this morning, I was concerned about him. He’s an old friend, you know, and he seemed even more distressed after some of the things that had been said at the meeting.” Barging on, heedless of Wilhelmina’s attempt to say something, Minerva continued. “I decided to go down and visit him. You may not know this, but I enjoy exercising in my Animagus form. I went down to Hagrid’s cabin looking for him. I was in my cat form. He wasn’t in, so I went around back. When he wasn’t there, either, I settled down for a catnap while waiting for him.” Wilhelmina had blanched. “I was in the shade under the trellis. There are a few tufts of weeds and grass there. It was quite cool and comfortable. I dozed until I was woken up.” Minerva paused and just looked at the witch across from her.

Wilhelmina swallowed, and when she found her voice, it came out in a raspy whisper. “You were there. When we arrived.”

Minerva nodded.

“Oh, god!” Wilhelmina’s blanch turned to a blush, and she hid her face in her hands. “How much . . . ?”

“I couldn’t leave. By the time I realised what was . . . going on, it was too late.”

“Oh, god,” the older witch repeated. “Oh, this is . . . this is beyond embarrassing.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t terribly comfortable at the time, myself. Nor am I at the moment,” Minerva replied.

Distressed, the older witch said, “You should have just left! How could you . . . so private,” she ended in a whisper.

“Believe me, if I had been able to vanish from my spot, I would have. I had no idea – and it just got worse.”

“So why are you here now? To share your embarrassment and humiliate me? Have you told Hagrid? He would be mortified!”

“No, I haven’t told him. As to why I’m here, I’ll just come out with it: how long has this been going on, Grubbly-Plank?”

The other witch looked up angrily. “It is none of your business. You may be Hagrid’s friend, but that’s all. You have no claim on him yourself!”

“I am not saying I do. But I am Hagrid’s friend. This is clearly not some new relationship. It’s been going on for a while. When did it start?” Minerva stared stonily at the older witch.

“And I say, it’s none of your business! I ask you to leave now. And if you care at all about Hagrid, you won’t mention this to him. He would be mortified.”

“I am not leaving until I get an answer to my question. Your reluctance to answer makes me wonder if my fears are justified.” Minerva narrowed her eyes. “Did you seduce Hagrid when he was a boy, just a child under your care?”

“What do you take me for?! Of course not! That’s . . . that’s disgusting!” Wilhelmina’s eyes flashed angrily.

The older witch’s reaction was enough to convince Minerva, and she relaxed, letting out a sigh. “Oh, that’s good, then. It’s just that I worried . . . not knowing. I didn’t think you would have, but I didn’t know. Hagrid is such an innocent in so many ways, and when he was a boy, he was larger than any grown man. I’m sorry, Wilhelmina.”

“Hmpf. Can’t blame you for being worried about Hagrid, I suppose – but to think such a thing of me?” Wilhelmina shook her head. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need a drink. Would you like something?”

“No, thank you, but you go ahead.”

Wilhelmina got up and went over to a sideboard and poured herself a shot of fire whisky. “It was about five years ago. In the summer. It was a hot one that year. I had begun to think of him differently a couple years before, but never acted on it . . . never thought I would.” Wilhelmina returned to her place on the sofa. “One day several years ago, I looked up at him, and it was suddenly as though I was seeing him for the first time . . . for the first time as an adult male. I had grown fond of him, of course. Hagrid is sweet, kind, gentle . . . but I had always seen him as just another variety of student. Of course, as he grew older, we came to know each other better as adults, but there was something about that day, when I looked up at him . . . he was looking down at me, smiling. He’d just helped me with a rather nasty creature, and I remember thinking how safe I felt when he was around, then I looked up, and something came over me. I’m not saying I fell in love in that moment, but after that, I could never look at him the same way. And I became increasingly aware of him as a masculine entity, until one day, I just decided to stop denying to myself that I found him incredibly attractive. I know most witches would think me crazy – ”

“No, no, I understand . . . not that I personally find him attractive, but I can understand what you see in him.” Minerva smiled encouragingly at her friend. “And he is a good man.”

“He is. Anyway, I walked around for about a year and a half in a constant state of heightened awareness of him . . . I couldn’t get him out of my mind. We had become friends . . . we’d have a drink together occasionally, take walks that weren’t strictly business . . . but I had no idea how to approach him and was convinced that it would be a bad idea. If he was shocked or disgusted . . . he might feel our friendship betrayed if I were to make any moves toward him. But then . . . well, you saw,” Wilhelmina ended with a dark blush. “It really was like that . . . and I thought it might be just a one-off thing, but the sweet, adorable man began to court me. He brought me the most peculiar things – any other witch would have found them peculiar gifts from a suitor, at any rate. But they were always things I liked or had wanted. He is always so thoughtful . . . but I always knew that this couldn’t last. I never wanted to be a teacher, though I have endeavoured to do my best. And I knew that I would be leaving when the right opportunity arose. I mentioned this to Hagrid repeatedly. I do love him, but he loves more, and more strongly.” Tears rose in her eyes. “I hate to hurt him, but there is no way around it.”

“I understand . . .” Minerva hesitated. She rarely spoke about her personal life, even with friends. Poppy came closest to knowing all that Minerva was willing to share with another human being. But Wilhelmina had just been honest with her about something very personal – and after the embarrassment of realising that Minerva had witnessed something even more personal. “There was a wizard once . . . he was very good to me, and I can honestly say that I loved him, in a way. It was during my apprenticeship in Germany. He wanted me to stay, to marry him, or even just to stay there with him . . . but I couldn’t. He loved me more than I loved him, and my life was here and his life was there. I have always regretted hurting him, but it would have been worse to try to make something work that wasn’t meant to be.”

Wilhelmina nodded and sighed, finishing her drink with one last shuddering gulp. “You do understand, then. It isn’t that I don’t care for him, I just . . . I can’t stay here. And I can’t imagine giving up everything to stay with Hagrid, or to have him stay with me . . . and it makes me feel guilty.”

“Don’t. Hagrid’s life was enriched by your relationship, I’m sure. And hopefully, someday, he’ll have another. Until then, he can look back on this and know that a wonderful witch cared for him and found him attractive. You do have a life to lead, Wilhelmina. If teaching were your life, then perhaps you and Hagrid could have had something longer term, perhaps a real commitment, but the way things are, you’d never be happy, and he would eventually be unhappy, as well.”

“Thank you,” Wilhelmina said softly. “I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it . . . it’s been difficult.”

Minerva knit her brow. “So no one knows? Five years, and no one knows?”

“Well, I imagine that more than a few people suspect or assume something, but other than Johannes, who spends so much time outdoors because of his work in the greenhouses and gardens that he did eventually notice, no, no one actually knows.”

“Johannes saw you, too?” How often did this couple enjoy the open air?

“No, no, not like that! No, he just noticed how much time we spent together, and how often I would go down to Hagrid’s cabin . . . and we’ve spoken of the relationship. But I didn’t want him to feel as though he were in the middle, so I haven’t talked with him about Hagrid’s distress.”

Minerva raised her eyebrows. “I rather think Johannes must have felt stuck in the middle between you, anyway, Wilhelmina, with all that message passing he ended up doing because you two weren’t talking to each other.”

“I was talking to Hagrid. And it’s not as though he was not talking to me . . . he couldn’t talk to me. It got to the point where he’d break down in tears asking me for the salt and pepper. Johannes was being a good friend.” Wilhelmina sighed. “I suppose I should talk to him. Johannes, I mean. Thank him.”

Continued in the next post.