CIV: Disarming MinervaMinerva started up the stairs to her rooms. When she reached the second floor, she hesitated. It was still early. She could pop in and see if Albus was in his office. But if he wasn’t, if he was upstairs in his quarters, he’d come down to see who was there . . . she didn’t want to disturb him. On the other hand, he seemed to think that he needed an excuse to see her, and she certainly had no excuse to see him right now, but if she just dropped by, he might see that he didn’t need an excuse to see her. Unless, of course, he only said that to emphasise that he wanted to see more of her after having seen so little of her during the term, to make up for it, and he hadn’t really meant that he actually needed an excuse to see her. But he hadn’t wanted to come to dinner with her, even after she had made it very clear that it wasn’t a date. He had seemed to like Quin. . . . Perhaps they had just been seeing too much of each other recently. She didn’t want to become a pest. But no, that couldn’t be right, either, as he had invited her to stay and have dinner with him.
Well, she wanted to see him, and she was going to be gone for several days, at least. Minerva stopped her dithering and headed down the hall to the gargoyle. When she reached the office, she knocked, then opened the door. Just as she entered the room, Albus was coming down the stairs.
“Minerva! This is a surprise.”
“I hope it’s not an unwelcome one. I don’t have one of those excuses you always talk about needing, so I hope one’s not required. I just wanted to stop by and see you.”
Albus was still dressed in the peacock blue robes he had been wearing earlier in the day, but had changed his shoes for fuzzy slippers.
“I hope it’s not a bad time,” Minerva added. “If you’re busy, or have company, or – ”
“No, not at all. I just wasn’t expecting you. Well, anyone.” He stood at the bottom of the stairs and blinked, as though not quite sure what to say or do.
“Will you two take your inane conversation elsewhere!” a rough, querulous voice said. “Some people are trying to sleep here!”
“Oh, hush, Phineas! You sleep through everything all the time! Or pretend to. Leave these two be!” Dilys answered.
Minerva looked up at the portraits. She had begun to forget their presence again.
Albus chuckled. “Would you like to come up?”
Suddenly feeling awkward, and wishing she had had an excuse to visit him, Minerva hesitated, but only a moment. “If you are sure I am not disturbing you.”
“Not at all,” Albus said warmly. “Please, come up, join me.”
“All right, I’d like that.” Minerva smiled, pleased and relieved.
Albus allowed Minerva to precede him on the stairs. “Did you have a nice time, my dear?”
“It was fine. It was a change. I wish you had come, Albus. The food was really quite good tonight, and Quin was amusing, you would have enjoyed it.” As they reached the sitting room, she turned and grinned at him. “I did tell him about the visit to the Jarvey, however, which I’m not sure I would have done if you had been there. The creature has got quite the mouth on him!”
“So I have heard,” Albus said with a smile. “We shall need to see to it that Hagrid keeps him away from the students come term time. I am glad that it could make Gertrude laugh, though.”
Minerva nodded. “I think she found the Jarvey amusing and found the reactions of the other staff equally entertaining.”
“Please, have a seat, my dear. Would you like something to drink? Tea? A glass of wine, perhaps? Or some cognac might be nice. I can call Wilspy; you may have whatever you like.” He stood, looking hopefully at her.
Minerva smiled and took a seat at one end of the sofa. “I will have whatever you’re having, Albus. Well, it depends what you are having, I suppose,” she said, remembering what Professor MacAirt said about the sweet cordial.
“I usually have a nice herbal infusion in the evening, but perhaps some cognac tonight? Yes? Good.” Albus Summoned the decanter and two balloon glasses, but then poured the cognac by hand.
Albus sat in the wingback chair at the end of the sofa nearest Minerva. Unaccountably, Minerva felt nervous and unsure of what to say next. Now she definitely knew what he had meant about needing an excuse to see her. But on their walk, they hadn’t needed an excuse; the walk itself had been sufficient reason to be together. Minerva relaxed. It was nice just to spend time with him. And that’s what she would say.
“It’s nice spending time with you, Albus. I have appreciated all of the time we have spent together recently. Thank you. I know you are very busy.”
“I should never be so busy that I am unable to make at least a few minutes for you, Minerva, although I prefer to spend more than that. I . . . I have enjoyed our time together, as well.”
“I wish you had come to dinner tonight.” When he didn’t say anything, Minerva added, “Why didn’t you? It seemed to me that you liked Quin.”
“He is a fine young wizard, Minerva. Certainly I like him,” Albus replied calmly.
That was a nonanswer if Minerva had ever heard one. “Well, we missed you. I did, at any rate, and I know that Quin likes you and would have enjoyed seeing you, too. He spoke of you several times, in fact.”
“Really? And I thought you said that Quin was amusing and you’d had a good time,” Albus joked.
Minerva ignored his attempt at humour. “It seems that he saw Minister Yaxley this afternoon.”
“Did he?” Albus’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes. And she told him that the Hogwarts Headmaster has acquired an ill-mannered cat!” Minerva grinned at him.
Albus laughed. “That will likely be the most memorable part of her visit today, unfortunately. Did you tell Quin the identity of the cat?”
“He’s a quick one; he already had guessed it was me. Teased me quite a bit about it.” Minerva grinned. “But I didn’t mind. I’ll be your cat, as long as you don’t call me by that awful name – thank goodness that the minister couldn’t remember it when she told Quin the story, or he’d have no end of fun with it.”
“Which name is that?” Albus asked in mock innocence. “You can’t mean the mellifluous name of ‘Morag,’ can you?”
Minerva gave an exaggerated shudder. “Please, Albus, even coming from you, that name sounds dreadful to me.”
“Well, you know what Minister Yaxley said about cats . . . .” Albus cocked his head, eyes twinkling.
“What was that?” Minerva tried to think of which insulting thing the minister had said that Albus might be referring to.
“That her sister didn’t own her cats, her cats owned her.”
Albus looked at her with a slight, warm smile on his lips, and Minerva felt her heart begin to beat more rapidly, though she couldn’t say why. Awash with a sudden, overwhelming desire for the wizard seated across from her, she said softly, “I would treat you well, if you were mine . . . if you were my wizard . . . .” Minerva lowered her eyes and took a sip of cognac.
Albus cleared his throat. “Yes, well, if you . . . um, if you were . . . um, a cat, I am sure I would be well-looked after. Um, more cognac?” He poured himself a bit more, though Minerva indicated she didn’t want any. “So, what else did you and Quin discuss?”
Minerva took one more sip of cognac and tried to think, fighting to get beyond what she had said to Albus and to come out with something sensible to answer him with.
“He told me how Gertrude’s husband died.”
“He did? Oh, my dear, why would he do that . . .” Albus literally grimaced and set down his glass. “That could not have been pleasant. For him to have brought that up – ”
“He didn’t. I did. I asked him. He didn’t want to tell me. I insisted. Afterward, I could see why he was reluctant. It was . . . sickening.”
Albus took his glasses off and set them beside the cognac, then he rubbed his face.
“I arrived only a few hours before he died. It was one of the worst things I have ever seen in my entire life. And the thought that . . . that one human being could do that to another . . . and then young Robbie went running about trying to find Grindelwald, almost getting himself and his friends killed in the process. . . . It was a dreadful time for Gertrude, and the memories are difficult. I don’t believe she’s ever been quite the same since. She was always reserved, but she was . . . less brittle, I suppose, and more relaxed. I still . . .” Albus shook his head, eyes closed, and rested his forehead in his palms.
“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I just . . . it was a terrible thing to hear, and I cannot begin to imagine what it was like for her, or for any of those who were there or who knew him. He was a friend of yours, too, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. I had come to know him through Gertie, but he was a friend and a good man, and I enjoyed his company. Had a great interest in languages and Ancient Runes, which has been a bit of a hobby of mine, so we had that in common. And he was early in his opposition . . . and it killed him. Most horrifically.” Albus almost whispered those last words. “Perhaps one reason I wanted to cheer Gertrude yesterday was that I did not want to remember it myself. To remember it in the abstract and to use that abstract memory to inform one’s choices . . . that is so much simpler than to remember it and to feel it. Feeling it . . . distracts and does not inform.”
“But isn’t it the underlying feeling that gives the memory meaning? If it weren’t painful, if it weren’t so horrific to think that one human being could do that to another, then that memory would have no more meaning than the memory of yesterday’s toast, and whether to choose wholemeal or white bread for tomorrow’s breakfast. Dwelling on it, that’s no good, of course, or being so enmired in pain that one can no longer function, but it’s the feeling that gives it meaning. At least, I think so . . . I don’t know.” Minerva looked down, thinking that she had known pain, but never anything so terrible as what had befallen Gertrude and her family.
“No, you are right, Minerva. Of course, you are right.” Albus relaxed back into his chair and gazed at her. “And it does. I should not have implied that it didn’t. But there is so much pain in life, that to remember it all with feeling, all of it, with all of the associated emotions . . . I believe I could do nothing other than become enmired in it. I fear that, anyway, though even more than that, I do fear losing the emotions, for the very reason you gave. They are what provide meaning to memory and to our choices, as you say. Our emotions and our relations to others. And it makes us different from those who can commit such atrocities or those who can stand idly by and allow them. Otherwise, we are merely moving chessmen, and it matters not whether white or black wins as long as the game is well-played; and life is not a chess game.” He smiled suddenly. “Which is one of the things that makes chess so enjoyable, don’t you think?”
“Yes, yes it is. And, conversely, one of the things that makes life so enjoyable. Don’t forget that. You said yourself, when we were at the concert a few days ago, that . . .” Minerva closed her eyes, trying to remember his exact words. “You said that love and compassion are alive and stronger than dark deeds, cold indifference, and selfish desires, and that there is room in the universe for the human soul to create something sublime. You said this gives meaning to sacrifice.” Minerva blushed as she opened her eyes to see Albus looking at her intently. “Something like that, anyway.”
“I did say that, didn’t I.” He continued to look at her. “You . . . you are remarkable, Minerva,” Albus said softly, then he took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Thank you.”
Minerva shook her head slightly, not sure why he was thanking her. “I didn’t come up here intending to discuss such serious subjects. I am sorry.” She quirked a small grin. “I suppose I should have just recounted the Jarvey’s insults; we both would have been embarrassed, but at least I wouldn’t have depressed us both!”
“Any visit with you is lovely, even if the subject is serious, Minerva, and I am glad you came up.”
“I still wish you had come to dinner, Albus.”
“I suppose I could have left the castle in the care of Johannes or Wilhelmina, but I did not want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t have been intruding; I told you that before.” She gave him a sharp look. “I do hope you’re not going to go on again about Quin, Albus.”
“No, no, but you should be able to have your friendships and go out to dinner without dragging your old Headmaster along.”
“Oh, Albus! Sometimes you are just so . . . why do you persist in saying such things? The way you go on, well, you’d think you were some potty relative I’d been saddled with and had to bring along as some sort of obligation. I enjoy spending time with you, and you’ve said we’re friends, so why would you think such a thing? Unless . . . well, I suppose . . .” Minerva had the sudden thought that he was just trying to be polite, and he truly hadn’t wanted to come along. This was a wizard who sat on the Wizengamot, after all, and who had discovered the twelve uses of dragon’s blood. “I suppose we could bore you. It’s not as though we’re your peers. I’m sure there’s other company you might prefer, even just your own. I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to try to drag you somewhere – ”
“Minerva,” Albus said, trying to interrupt her. “Minerva, no, no, that’s not it. Some company is clearly more enjoyable than others, but yours is always lovely, as I have said, and I like Quin, and I am sure we would have a delightful time. And just because I’m an old codger doesn’t mean I prefer the company of other old codgers, so the business about peers, I never thought in those terms at all – at least not in the way that you are implying.” The corner of his mouth twitched in a slight grin. “I was more concerned that I might be the boring company, my dear. Truly.”
“All right . . . but please, do me a favour? Don’t keep calling yourself an old codger like that. I just . . . it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think of you like that, and when you say it . . . I can’t explain, but it bothers me. I know that sometimes, you are joking, but other times, I think you may mean it, and I just . . . I just wish you wouldn’t.”
“I will try, but it is something of a habit, I am afraid. Please don’t take offense if I forget occasionally – it’s what happens when you become an old codger!” Albus laughed and Minerva threw a small pillow at him.
“You are very funny, Albus. Anyway, my point was, I would have enjoyed having you join us, and so would Quin. But now I feel as though I am pressuring you in retrospect, which is a silly thing to do, since you shouldn’t have felt obligated, in any case, and you can’t do anything to change it now, anyway.”
“I am glad you had a nice evening out, though, Minerva. So, you will be leaving on holiday tomorrow. Please give your parents my regards.”
“I will. They enjoyed seeing you when you dropped by a couple weeks ago. My father especially liked having someone to play chess with.”
“He is very good. He said you play.”
“Yes, though I haven’t in a while. Not regularly, anyway. I used to play with a friend in Heidelberg. Since then, I haven’t had many opportunities. You are probably much better than I am.”
Albus shrugged. “Your father seemed to think you play well. He said you could give me a good game.” He brightened, remembering that afternoon at the McGonagalls’. “It’s still early. Would you like to play? A quick game before retiring?”
“I’m afraid I’m not as fast as I once was . . . but all right. One quick, friendly game. And, as you say, it doesn’t matter whether white or black wins, as long as it’s well-played. But I have to warn you, as long as there’s some challenge to the game, I
do prefer to win!” Minerva grinned.
An hour and a half later, and Minerva was perched on the edge of the sofa, bent toward the board, elbows on her knees, staring at the pieces as if looking at them long enough would change the number of options she had. At first, she had been concerned that Albus was playing too easy a game and was going to let her win; it soon became apparent that her concerns were unfounded. He had made sacrifices that seemed senseless, but that had lured her into a vulnerable position. A half hour into the game, Minerva had begun to squirm, and it was only with great will-power that she stilled her legs and hands. Albus’s demeanor, quite maddeningly, didn’t change. He would occasionally lean forward to get a different view of the board, but then he leaned back again, the very picture of calm and relaxation. Finally, Minerva let out a cry and raised her hands above her head.
“No, no, I didn’t mean to do that!” Her distress turned to laughter as she threw herself back into the sofa and Albus moved his knight, placing her in checkmate. “Oh, gods, Albus! That was excellent! But I thought I’d die before the game ended!” She looked at him with bright eyes and a warm smile. “You certainly know how to lead a witch on and build the tension. Aaaa! I can’t believe I thought you were letting me win there at the beginning – I was so put out, I didn’t see what you were really doing!”
Albus chuckled. “You should know that I have too much respect for you to let you win. It’s not as though you are a novice player, after all.” His affectionate gaze and loving smile heightened the colour in her cheeks. “But I enjoyed it, as well, particularly once you recognised my strategy. Which was somewhat . . . unfair, but it’s one that only works once, so I can’t use it again. It was a challenge to make it appear as though I was trying to let you win without having it appear that I was only making it appear that way, while at the same time not really allowing you to win.” He grinned. “I have a feeling that our next game will be a different sort of challenge for me.”
Minerva narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at him, suppressing her own grin, “You’ve got that right, Professor. I won’t be taken in by that tactic again. You had better watch yourself – and your pawns – very well next time!” She laughed. “By the way, you have an interesting way of using your pawns. I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone who played quite that way before.”
“I don’t always do that, of course, but it was a strategy that worked well with my other one – to disarm you completely by having you believe I was letting you win – but it can actually be surprisingly effective, holding back the pawns a while.”
“I will have to remember that.” Minerva let out a breath. “Well, as much as I would like that rematch now, I think it’s time for me to think about leaving. You need your rest. I assume you are still taking your vitamin potion?”
Albus smiled indulgently. “Yes, my dear. Every night.”
“Good. I hope . . . I hope that while I’m on holiday . . . Of course, you can take care of yourself, I know that. But do that. Take care of yourself.”
He chuckled. “I will. Thank you. I don’t know the last time I had anyone – other than Wilspy – so concerned with my health and well-being.”
Minerva blushed. “I know you can take care of yourself. I don’t mean to fuss. But – what of Gertrude? She seems to care about your welfare.”
“Oh, she does. And she has taken care of me when she’s thought I needed it, but I don’t think she’s ever tried to get me to eat my veg.” He grinned at her.
“Well, I had better be going.”
“Let me walk you down the backstairs.”
Minerva hesitated, remembering the last trip down the stairs that morning, and the feel of his warm hand on her bare flesh. “You know, I think I’d like the walk, actually.”
Albus stood. “All right. But may I see you out of the office, then?”
Minerva smiled brightly. “I’d like that very much.”
They walked down to his office, now dark and unlit. Albus waved a hand and lit a few candles along the back wall.
“I enjoyed this evening. Thank you for the chess game, Albus,” Minerva said as they crossed to the exit.
“You are welcome, my dear. And your father was right – you gave me a good game.”
Minerva looked up at Albus, wishing she could tell him all that she felt for him. “I hope we can do it again, soon.”
“I will anticipate it. I hope you have a nice holiday. I am sorry I will have to pull you away from it for a few days.”
“I’m not. I mean, I will be glad to return for the warding and to set up my new quarters. And . . . I will miss you.”
Albus chuckled. “That’s kind of you, my dear. But it’s not long, and you will be with your family and friends. You will enjoy yourself.”
“I
will miss you, Albus.” Suddenly feeling silly – after all, as he said, it wasn’t as though she’d be gone long, and it was doubtful he could miss her for such a short time – Minerva added, “But you are right. It’s not long.”
Albus opened the door for her. “Good night, Minerva. Thank you for coming by.”
“I was afraid that if I waited, I might not see you before I left.”
“I am very glad you didn’t wait, then.” Albus reached up and touched her cheek tentatively, just the tips of his fingers in a gentle caress. “And I know I will miss you, as well . . . my dear Minerva,” he whispered.
Minerva felt her heart would leap from her chest, and she met his eyes, hoping to see some hint of her own feelings reflected in them, but then his hand dropped to his side and he looked away.
“Good night, Albus.” Minerva wished he were closer, but she didn’t trust herself to step toward him and reach up to kiss his cheek without betraying her feelings. Instead, she put out her hand and touched his arm, rubbing it gently, then giving it a slight squeeze. “I will look forward to coming home. Good night.”
Albus nodded, and Minerva turned and left his office, stepping onto the moving spiral stairs, wishing she weren’t leaving. As the moving stair approached the second floor, she heard the door close far above her, and her heart seemed to clench with a sense of loss.
Note: I don't know as this chapter was any less of a tease than my other posts 
, but I hope you enjoyed it!
BTW, as some may have noticed, I have a new story in the "Lemons" section, called "Heat." Those of you who read such things may find it diverting while awaiting the next update of RaM! ;D
Don't forget that there is now an outline of sorts, and on my LJ, it is located here. The one on my LJ has a little more info to it than the one here on the board, and the dates are easier to find as I put them next to the chapter titles.
, this is such a 
I hoped I had him appreciating a pretty young woman, much as I appreciate an attractive man when I see one, but if it came across as nasty, I'll have to fix that. 
All out of love, lady!)
