Resolving a Misunderstanding (complete)

[MMADfan]

bogus7 said:

I've had the page up for like a day and a half trying to remember to read it.

Hagrid isn't the first person I'd imagine to identify the Ides of March from Minerva's comment.

Albus is obviously trying to distcance himself from her, but we'll see how long that lasts (oh wait, he's already getting all batty eyed toward her).

And in response to your response about Albus and Gertrude, what's the good of denial if don't ignore what's blatantly in front of you 8 million times over.

Well, given that I knew about the ides of March by the time I was around 8 or 9, without having read Shakespeare's version of events yet, I can easily imagine that Hagrid would like a good story about a prophetic warning ignored, betrayal, and bloody murder. It's a great story, after all -- he'd probably think the murder was horrific, but otherwise, it's a good tale. Doubt he would read the story, but hear it, yeah, I think so. Just as I think he likely has heard the tale of Cerberus, or of Midas, or Prometheus, or Sisyphus, or Romulus and Remus, or Ulysses. Classics and great bedtime stories, I always thought, unless you want to go biblical -- there's great stories of jealousy, revenge, cupidity, and all kinds of exciting stuff there. There's even giants! lol Of course, they are a bit bloody! And I think that the classical myths and legends are likely to be commonly told in the wizarding world. Hagrid probably has no clue who Shakespeare is, on the other hand.

And yeah, denial is a wondrous thing! *grin* (But I definitely don't think it was obvious, anyway. It wasn't supposed to be blatant in the earlier hints, just not totally shocking once it was revealed.)

[esoterica1693]

Another good chapter.

Minerva is getting to know Malcolm better by seeing him w/ Trudie than she did in > 30 years of being his little sister. And Malcolm is slowly growing on me (I generally prefer slightly more predictable chaps :-). Getting the pup for Hagrid was wonderful of him. Those two do seem to be kindred spirits. And it's good that Minerva finally seems to be exorcised of her concern about Gertrude and Albus. It will be interesting to see how Albus reacts to the even clearer evidence that Gertrude and Malcolm are quite seriously involved--he was obviously w/ her over the whole weekend.

Albus seems to be comfortable w/ Minerva so long as they aren't 1:1. I do wonder what he's going to do for his next face-plant....sort of like hearing a train whistle blowing desperately in the distance and knowing we're about to see a wreck.... Maybe he should have lunch w/ Merrythought to discuss the possibility of his being a locum and also to learn more about his witch. <g>

[minerva62]

Another wonderful chapter...

Oh, I love Caesar! And that ride on the thestral! I feel that Malcolm is a man to my taste! I even start to prefer him to Quin...We need another poll...

Well, Albus...he starts annoying me...I can understand his behavior from his point of view, but this contrast-bath-like behavior toward Minerva...like she wrote to Quin, I don't know how long I can take it anymore...Hope that Quin can comfort her some...Looking forward to that event...

And yes, I agree with esoterica1693, Albus should see Merrythought...

[MMADfan]

Note: This chapter is edited because of lemony content. For the full version of the chapter, visit the Lemons forum!

Posted in three parts because of length.

CXXXII: Seeking Counsel

Rather than go to the library, or even bring her book outdoors with her, Minerva settled for opening all her windows and using the books she had available to her in her study. She could visit the library some other time. She wanted to be in when Albus called. The afternoon passed and Minerva began to anticipate Albus’s arrival. But eventually, two-thirty had passed, then three, then three-thirty, and he still hadn’t come by to see her. Had he said that he definitely would see her? She tried to remember. Perhaps she had only wanted to see him so much that she had assumed that a suggested possibility was a promised event. Minerva sighed. He probably became caught up in something. Albus did sometimes lose track of time.

Finally, as four-thirty approached, she rose and went into her bedroom to change for dinner. She had said that she would arrive at Quin’s at six o’clock. Since she had to walk down to Hogsmeade to Floo through to his house in London, she thought she should leave by five-thirty at the latest, and she wanted a shower first.

Minerva undressed and hoped that Albus didn’t arrive when she was in the shower. The thought of Albus arriving while she was in the shower gave her conflicted feelings. In actuality, it would be a pity, because she didn’t want to miss his visit, but in her imagination . . . Minerva stepped into the shower, playing with the various water jets and the showerhead above her, and a frisson passed through her as she imagined Albus admitting himself with her password, perhaps to leave her a note to say that he was sorry he had missed her, but then he would hear the water running in the bathroom . . . the door to her bedroom was open, and the door to the bathroom. He would step into her bedroom, thinking perhaps to close the bathroom door for her, but as he came toward the door, he would see her there in the shower. He would watch her for a moment, and would just be backing away when she would turn and see him. . . . Minerva’s imagination carried her away, and she took the handheld shower and rinsed herself. She closed her eyes as she moved the shower wand. She imagined that Albus, watching her, would take a step toward her, then pause, and when she beckoned to him, he would remove his shoes and then his robes. She could imagine how he would look standing there, and how he would enter the bathroom, open the shower door and join her there, looking at her with the same expression in his eyes as he’d had at lunch . . . that intense and warmly affectionate gaze. . . . Minerva allowed herself the pleasure of her fantasy, imagining how Albus would make love to her there in the shower and then carry her to her room. . . .

She relaxed a moment, then turned off the water, beginning with the overhead shower, then the water jets along the walls, and finally, the shower wand that now hung loosely from her hand. She hadn’t even washed her hair properly, Minerva thought with a sigh. She really had to start being more sensible. It was one thing to bring herself a little pleasure, and quite another to torment herself with thoughts of Albus making love to her.

Minerva dressed in robes of sapphire blue, simple, but a bit nicer than her everyday robes. She put her hair up in a French twist, then added a pair of Charmed silver earrings in the shape of jonquils, and the silver necklace that went with it. They had been a gift from Rudolf. She rarely wore them because they reminded her of him, and she would always feel a twinge of guilt and a wish that things could have been different. But they hadn’t been. He had been a wonderful lover and a warm and affectionate friend, both one of the most serious men she had ever known and one of the most joyous, but when he asked her to marry him, she had frozen. The very first thing that had crossed her mind was a single thought, not even a thought, but a vision, the image of Albus’s face, and her heart had clenched with the thought that if she married Rudolf, she would be so far from Albus and might never see him again. And in that moment, she knew that she could not marry Rudolf, she could not even stay with him there in Germany and see how things proceeded. That would have been even worse for Rudolf. She knew she would never change her mind, as much as she cared for Rudolf, loved him, even, and as much happiness as he had brought into her life over the year that she had spent at her apprenticeship. She had even moved in with him a few months before, though she kept her own rooms for the sake of appearances. After he had asked her to marry him and she had declined, she moved back to those rooms, knowing that if she stayed with him, he would keep hoping that he could change her mind in the two weeks before she was scheduled to leave her apprenticeship.

The evening before she left, Rudolf had had her over for dinner. He was clearly sad that she was leaving, and still could not understand why, and he tried to get her to articulate her reasons to him. But she was completely unable to. What would she say? That she had harboured a crush on Albus Dumbledore since she was seventeen years old and she was in love with him still? So she simply told him that her life lay in Britain, not in Germany, and that she was sorry that she had led him to believe that they might have a future together. She told him quite truthfully that when they had started seeing each other, the possibility that they might become more serious about each other hadn’t occurred to her, and that even when she had moved in with him, she had not given a thought to the future, but only to the fact that she loved him and wanted to spend her time with him while she was there. She stayed that night, one last night together with him, and when she left him in the morning, Rudolf kissed her, but then turned away and would not say good-bye.

Minerva fingered the silver jonquil that dangled from the necklace and considered wearing something different, but then there was a barking from the sitting room, and she heard the Silent Knight enter the landscape. She hastened into the room to see who it was.

“The master of the castle is without and begs admission to your lady’s chambers,” the Knight announced.

“You may admit him,” Minerva said, wishing that the Knight would see fit to announce her visitors all of the time.

The door opened and Albus stepped in. “Good afternoon, my dear!”

“Hello, Albus.” She wanted to ask him why he was coming by so late after she had waited for him for hours, but she restrained herself. “Did you have a good time with the puppy?”

“Yes, quite a cute little fellow. He’ll grow fast. That was an excellent idea of Malcolm’s. Your brother is quite the wizard.”

Minerva nodded, feeling somewhat impatient and not wanting to discuss her brother. “Did you look at the applications and read my recommendation?”

“Yes, I did, and I agreed with you. I have owled them both and asked them to come in for interviews. Wilhelmina will, I hope, have returned to the school by then and can talk to them and let me know what she thinks of each one.”

Minerva nodded. “Was there anything else, then?” She really had to finish getting ready.

“I was wondering if you would care to dine with me this evening. Wilspy is not at the castle, but we could go into Hogsmeade, or if you would prefer to stay in, Hwouly could serve us, or we could eat in your rooms and Blampa would have another opportunity to provide us a meal.”

“Oh, Albus.” Minerva’s shoulders slumped. “Did you just think of this now?”

“No, it crossed my mind earlier, during lunch, but then . . . we went to see the dogs,” he said hesitantly. He seemed to notice for the first time that she was dressed differently than she had been at noon. “You look very nice, my dear.”

“Thank you. I wish you had said something earlier.” Minerva was so disappointed, she thought she could cry. But she didn’t. She sighed and said, “I made arrangements with Quin for dinner tonight, and the plans were made on Saturday. I still could have changed them, though, if I had known earlier, but I can’t very well beg off now.”

“And I would not expect you to, nor would I have wished you to change your plans. I hope you have a good evening. I will find Johannes then, and tell him that I will be here after all,” Albus said.

“I’m sorry, Albus. I would have liked to. I missed you the last few days.”

“It was just a thought, since Gertrude is taking advantage of my return to leave the grounds, and Hagrid has taken Caesar into Hogsmeade to show him off, apparently. With Johannes here, I thought . . . I thought it would be convenient to leave the wards with him. But it was just a whim. Do not concern yourself. Enjoy your time with Quin this evening. Johannes wanted to play another game of Go, anyway, and they usually take us a few hours. We will spend quite an absorbing evening together, I am sure.” He began to back toward the door.

Minerva glanced at the clock on her mantle. Only ten past five. They did have a little time. She could just shove her feet in her shoes, grab her shawl, and go. No need for anything else.

“You can stay a little while. I don’t have to leave just yet. I have some time now,” she offered.

Albus hesitated. “I would not want you to be late for your date.”

“It isn’t a date. But I won’t be late. I was going to Floo, but I could just as easily Apparate there,” Minerva said.

“Ah . . .” Albus made no move, either toward the door or further into the room.

“Come, sit with me a while.” She gestured toward the couch. “I have missed you. It was a wonderful surprise to see you this morning.” She went over and sat down herself.

“Well, just a moment, I suppose,” Albus said, coming over and sitting in one of the armchairs.

“I was glad to see you here, of course, but surprised, as well,” Minerva said. “I hope there was no emergency that called you back early.”

“No, no emergency.” Albus smiled slightly. “I suppose I am just so unused to taking a holiday that I don’t know what to do with myself on one anymore.”

“So, what did you do when you left Robert and Thea’s?” Minerva asked.

“I had thought to spend some time at my cottage. Indeed, I Apparated there, but after I took care of a few of the maintenance tasks I needed to . . .” Albus shrugged.

“I see. What sorts of maintenance?” Minerva asked, both for something to ask and out of genuine curiosity.

“Oh, this and that. Refreshed my wards. Cleaned things up.”

Minerva nodded. “We don’t really have any wards at the house, at my parents’, except for the Anti-Apparition ward on the house itself, of course. Every now and then, Malcolm talks to Dad about putting some in place, but they never do. Of course, the main one they would have considered is a Muggle-repelling ward, and now that Melina’s marrying a Muggle, it hardly seems appropriate to do that!” Minerva said with a chuckle.

“No, no, that would not be very convenient, would it?” Albus smiled.

“Do you spend much time at your cottage?” Minerva asked, trying to draw him out.

“Occasionally. But as you know, I spend most of the year here, and since becoming Headmaster, I haven’t had much opportunity to get away. The last time I was there was . . . late last summer, I believe.”

Minerva nodded. “Well, as I said before, the first is right around the corner. You should try to get away from the castle before the students return.” She wanted to suggest that they go on outings together, but couldn’t think of how to phrase it.

“I am quite happy here,” Albus said. “I fill my days sufficiently without having to leave the school to find other things or people to occupy my time, and when I do, it is on business, as you are aware.”

Minerva was taken aback by the stiffness in his tone. This was hardly the wizard who had been encouraging her to enjoy herself this summer, to get away, maintain her friendships outside the school. And it certainly wasn’t the warm wizard who had joked with her that noon about eating his fruit and veg and who had told her that she was special to him.

“Yes, well, I am trying to take the advice I was given to get away during the summer months,” Minerva replied.

“And you need to be leaving soon, I am sure, even if you are Apparating to Quin’s flat, it takes some time to walk down to the gates,” Albus said, standing. “I hope you have a good evening, Minerva. Please give my greetings to Quin.” He nodded to her and with a gesture, opened the door.

“Good night, Albus. I . . .” She wanted to say that she wished she were staying in and having dinner with him, but his manner had been so off-putting, she could not say it with very much enthusiasm. “You know, Albus, we have been friends for a long time.”

Albus paused and turned. “Yes, we have been,” he said softly.

“I thought . . . I thought after that evening, that night when you told me so much about yourself and your past, I thought we were becoming even closer friends. But I am realising that you still say little of yourself today, what you are presently feeling or doing or looking forward to. I would like us to be closer, but it is difficult when I have the sense that I am the only one who wants that,” she said. She swallowed and continued as Albus listened, his expression unchanging. “I would have loved to have had dinner with you. I would have changed my plans without a qualm. I have missed you. But it was a whim, as you say . . . just . . . nothing better to do.” Minerva averted her gaze, afraid of betraying too much feeling. “And that’s fine, I suppose. But if you were disappointed, I would have liked to have known it, and not feel . . . as though you are merely irritated with me for some reason I cannot fathom.”

“Irritated? I am not irritated with you, not at all. And it is good for you to get away. My ideas are not always very good ones or very well timed. I do have a bit of school business I wish to discuss with you, though, if you wouldn’t mind coming around at some point.”

Minerva nodded. “Of course.” School business. Well, now it was clear why he had wanted to have dinner with her. And she had been foolish enough to repeat that she had missed him.

After Albus had left, Minerva went back into her bedroom found her favourite shoes, and without much thought, charmed them to match her dress. She should find her matching shawl, but she couldn’t be bothered. It wasn’t cool yet, and when she came back later, a warming charm would be sufficient to keep her warm on the walk up from the gates. She had no appetite whatsoever for dinner now, but she was still looking forward to seeing Quin, even more now than before. Albus’s behaviour not only puzzled her, but it troubled her, and she didn’t know whether it was only because of her feelings for him. Perhaps she was being unreasonable, seeing things that weren’t there, both positive and otherwise.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXXII: Seeking Counsel, continued

Minerva arrived on Quin’s doorstep at ten minutes before six. A little early, but hopefully not too early for him. There were two ways of being not on time, Grandmother Siofre used to say, being too late and being too early. She lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped on the door. A moment later, Quin appeared, shirt sleeves rolled up, collar undone, his loosened tie tucked into the front of his shirt, and a short flowered apron covering his trousers.

Minerva smiled, as much at the little flowered pinny as in greeting, and said, “I am too early. I am sorry, Quin.”

“Not at all, although I had expected you t’ come by Floo. Please, come in!”

Minerva stepped in. Mmm. The aromas were wonderful, and her appetite began to return.

“Something smells very good,” she said.

Quin smiled. “I’m glad – I hope it tastes good, as well. Please, um, come into the sittin’ room with me while I close the Floo. I had just left it open for you.”

Minerva watched as he reset the Floo to allow admission only to members of the family.

“Are your children still with Ella?” she asked.

“Until sometime next week, they are,” he answered. “I took them all t’ lunch today, since I knew we would be having dinner this evenin’. Mrs Manning had the day off, so I’m cooking for us, and I got home later than I had wanted, so I’m still at it. Like to keep me company while I cook?”

“Of course! And I would be happy to help, really, Quin.”

“If you like, you can put the salad together. But the rest is a one-wizard job.”

Minerva thought that was just as well, since her cooking skills weren’t particularly advanced, but she could chop and stir, and so forth, manually or magically. Rudolf used to cook for her often. She loved a wizard who could cook. She wondered whether Albus could cook. It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t, of course . . . not that it mattered anyway. She would hardly have any opportunity to find out, and being at Hogwarts, there was no need for anyone to cook.

When they finally sat down to eat, Quin insisted on eating in the dining room, which had windows looking out on both the street and, on the other side, the courtyard garden. It had a large table, but he set just one end for them and opened the French doors out to the courtyard.

“We could eat out there, but I find this a nice compromise,” he said after opening the doors.

“It is, and quite comfortable.”

They spoke a bit of Quin’s day and the business that had kept him in the City longer than he had anticipated that afternoon, then Minerva mentioned that she had spoken with Malcolm.

“You needn’t have done that, Minerva,” Quin said.

“Yes, well, I was concerned, myself, and curious, to be honest. Sometimes I’m too curious for my own good,” she replied.

Quin grinned. “Must be the cat in you, to be sure!”

“No doubt! But, anyway, on Friday, when I was still at my parents’ place, he came by for dinner, and we talked a bit.” Seeing the slightly apprehensive look on Quin’s face, Minerva decided to tease him just a little. “I mentioned his visit to you, and he said, let me see if I can quote him exactly, he said that you were quite pretty, with lovely blue eyes and long legs, but rugged at the same time. He said that it was delicious but uncommon combination in a wizard, and you were quite a charmer and a generally attractive package. Oh, and he mentioned your dimples.”

Minerva watched Quin’s face as she recounted Malcolm’s description of him. He spilled his wine as he set his glass back down on the table, looking quite pale.

“So he, um, that is – ”

“And he also said that he was not interested in you that way in the slightest,” Minerva said with a laugh.

“What?” Quin was clearly confused.

“He really did say all those things, but since I had to suffer through it, I thought you should have to, as well. He suggested that he might have been on a quest to determine your intentions toward me, but then said that hadn’t been it, either.”

“Oh, well, that’s good, then, I suppose – you really had me there for a moment, you know, Minerva. I was afraid I was goin’ to have t’ find a way to let the bloke down gently, and I have a hard enough time of that with the witches, I didn’t fancy having to do it with him. Not that it would be the first time, but the others were quick and easy – I mean, explaining the facts and me lack of interest. Malcolm, on the other hand, he’s your brother. And, well, that would make it more awkward, that’s all.”

Minerva grinned. “Well, you have no worries on that score. In fact, I think the world at large might be safe from Malcolm’s attentions for a while.”

“Really? He’s after takin’ off for some remote corner of the earth again?”

“No, not so remote. Although I suppose some would consider the Highlands remote.” Minerva took a sip of wine. “You know that I returned to the school on Saturday, well, I have seen quite a bit of brother Malcolm since then. I even had breakfast with him this morning.”

“Breakfast – you mean – is he possibly there visitin’ another witch of our mutual acquaintance?” When Minerva nodded, Quin said, “Well, I’ll be . . . . and how is Gertrude?”

“She’s fine. She seems more relaxed each time I see her.” Minerva giggled, slightly giddy after the wine and the good meal. “But given what she and my brother seem to spend a lot of time doing, I suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I have to admit, though, that I am surprised by their sudden attachment – particularly with your last suggestion,” Quin said. “Are you sure they’re, you know . . .”

“Sleeping together, as they say?” Minerva asked, surprised by Quin’s discomfort with the topic. “Quite sure. And I’m sure that it is much too vigorous to be called ‘sleeping,’ either!”

“Minerva! What a thing to speculate about – this is Gertie, me aunt, well, me wife’s aunt, and your brother!”

“I’m not speculating, Quin. I’m talking about eye-witness evidence here!” Minerva laughed again at the expression on Quin’s face. “Honestly, Quin, I had no idea that you were so reserved!”

“I’m not, not really, but . . . what do you mean, eye-witness? ’Tisn’t that you saw them together, is it?”

Minerva nodded. “They had no idea I was there, of course. But Gertie was practically attacking Malcolm right there in the middle of Hogwarts. Not that he resisted. And they were definitely well beyond the first kiss. Very well beyond it.”

“But they only just met!” Quin protested.

Minerva shrugged. “I gather that Malcolm usually moves fast – both into and out of relationships – but he has no wish at the moment to move out of this one. As for Gertrude, I did speak to her about it, just a little. Apparently, she was attracted to him immediately, and when he made overtures to get to know her better, she took him up on them. And they bounced about the country doing who-knows-what with various creatures and curses, and got to know one another better in the process. From what Malcolm told me, before he knew it, he cared more for her than he had expected to.”

“Gertrude went out with him on his jobs?” Quin asked. When Minerva nodded, he said, puzzled, “But she’s never been interested in doin’ that sort o’ thing, and I would never say anythin’ to her, but I have always thought her lack of interest in exercisin’ her magic t’ be peculiar, at the very least. Lives in her head, and in her books, from what I’ve seen. O’ course, she always has liked t’ get out and hike, but that’s a bit different from what I understand Malcolm does.”

“Apparently his stories appealed to her – well, you could see that for yourself that Sunday. She hung onto his every word. And when he invited her along on his jobs, she went.”

Quin narrowed his eyes. “D’you think he’s done somethin’ to her? Somethin’ to encourage her along, then? Because if so, if he’s done anythin’ to her, I’m not after carin’ how many Nundus he’s survived, I’ll not be havin’ him hurtin’ our Gertie!”

“Calm down, Quin! Honestly! You wizards!” Minerva said, rolling her eyes. “First of all, I do believe that Gertrude can take quite good care of herself, secondly, I am certain that Malcolm did nothing but be his usual self, which appears to be just what Gertrude fancies, and thirdly, if Malcolm did anything to hurt Gertie, you wouldn’t have to do anything, because I’ll have done something first. He is my brother, after all. But he hasn’t done anything untoward to gain her affections.”

“All right, then . . . and if that’s the case,” he said, a sudden smile brightening his face, “I’m happy for her. She needs somethin’ more in her life than the school and Dumbledore. Robert’s a fine son, o’ course, but she doesn’t see him often, an’ he has a life o’ his own. Good for her, then!”

Minerva laughed. “That was some turn around, from wanting to kill my brother to wishing Gertrude happiness with him!”

Quin shrugged. “I liked your brother. And I want Gertie to be happy. ’Tis a simple thing.”

“Yes . . . a simple thing.” Minerva sighed. “A simple thing, you say, but you know that love can also bring pain. And they still might end up hurt, one or the other or both of them, even with neither of intending it.”

“But that’s no reason not to love,” Quin said. “Not to try for it. And with all the pain I had, and still have, at losin’ Aileen, I would never wish I hadn’t found her and loved her and had her love.”

Minerva nodded, but she was silent, and her mood had shifted. Wouldn’t it be better for her not to love Albus? Or not to love him as she did? She could take no joy in it, and little hope of any.

Quin waved a hand and cleared the table of the dishes, but leaving the wine and glasses. He looked at Minerva seriously. “You wanted to see me and talk, and I’ve dominated the conversation. . . . You’re feelin’ less hopeful again?”

Minerva nodded. “You know that when I wrote to you, I had returned to Hogwarts only to discover that Albus had left on holiday.” She sighed. “You know . . . I don’t begrudge him his holiday, not in the slightest, and I know, rationally, that it is unreasonable of me to expect that he would tell me anything of his plans, but still . . . I had returned early, so looking forward to seeing Albus, and then he was not there. And he had left no word, nothing, and I didn’t know where he was or when he would be back, and I was just so very disappointed, I am embarrassed to say how disappointed I was. Gertrude told me yesterday that she expected him back either Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, but he returned early. I met him shortly after he arrived . . . I was very pleased to see him, and for a moment, I thought he was equally happy to see me, but then he seemed completely uninterested in spending time with me, even to discuss Hogwarts business. Again, it was unreasonable of me, but – ”

“Not unreasonable, Minerva. Not at all. But did you actually tell him that you wanted to spend time with him, that you were happy that he returned early?”

“Not exactly. I did offer to stay and talk with him about the applicants for the Care of Magical Creatures position, though. And I asked him about his holiday, but he didn’t say very much.”

“So you only asked him to spend time with you discussing Hogwarts business?” At Minerva’s nod, Quin asked, “And yourself? What did you say of your holiday and early return to Hogwarts?”

“That it was good, that I had seen family . . . and that I returned to begin preparing for the term,” Minerva replied.

Quin said, “Did it occur to you that he may have been disappointed, as well? That p’rhaps he wanted to see you for some reason other than Hogwarts business, but didn’t feel comfortable bringin’ it up, since your focus was on work?”

“No, no, that didn’t occur to me,” Minerva said slowly. “But that would be silly – why wouldn’t he then at least want to see me to discuss the applications? And it’s not as though we have only had a professional relationship – we have known each other for years, after all.”

Quin shrugged. “And why did you not simply ask him to join you in your rooms later – for tea and a chat? You could have done, just as you say he could have. If he is wishin’ he could have somethin’ more with you, but is unsure of himself, he might think your focus on work was off-puttin’, though you don’t mean it that way.”

“Yes, that could be, except then at lunch . . . oh, Quin, I was so happy after lunch. I am becoming pathetic, I truly am. He gives me one smile, and I grasp at it like a lifeline. He was sweet at lunch, and he joked with me . . . but it was only joking. He said something about my being special to him – not in so many words – and I took it to heart. Then before he went off to visit Hagrid’s new puppy – something Malcolm got for him – he suggested he would come and see me this afternoon. At least, I thought he had. But it was more vague than I had interpreted it. I waited all afternoon for him, thinking he would be by at any time. I even stayed in my rooms, waiting, instead of going to the library as I had planned. But he didn’t come. Then he finally appeared at my door just as I was getting ready to leave for dinner. And he asked me to have dinner with him, to go out to Hogsmeade or to dine in, whichever I preferred. It was already after five by that point, though. I couldn’t just change my plans at the last minute like that.”

“O’ course you could have, Minerva! I would have understood. You could have just sent word to me,” Quin said.

Minerva shook her head. “And owl would have arrived too late. I couldn’t leave you wondering where I was or if something had happened to me. Especially not after you had changed your own plans to have dinner with me – and cooked, too. And even if that were not a consideration, it does seem that Albus . . . when I want to spend time with him, he often puts me off, whether explicitly or not, but then if he gets an idea in his head that we might have dinner or what-have-you, he simply expects me to have no other plans. I don’t understand it at all.”

Quin thought for a moment. “It could be that he’s hopin’ that if you have nothin’ t’ do, you’ll not be able to say ‘no’ when he asks, but if you do . . . you’re sayin’ ‘no’ for a reason other than not wantin’ t’ spend time with him. An’ if he asks you in advance and you decline . . . it means that you don’t want t’ see him. I’m not sayin’ that he thinks this, he may not know he’s doin’ it, even. Or it could be that he’s tryin’ t’ be casual about it, not wantin’ t’ make it seem anythin’ o’ grand importance to him, not wantin’ you t’ think he puts too much store in your answer.”

“Possibly. Or it could be that he has nothing better to do for the evening, and an idea pops into his head, a whim, as he put it.” Minerva smiled wryly. “And then, to top it off, when we were talking, he dismissed my suggestion that he try to enjoy these last weeks before the students return. He said that he had quite enough to fill his time without leaving the castle to find anything else. This from the man who has been encouraging me to get out and enjoy myself this summer. What was worst, though, I tried to express my disappointment that he hadn’t asked me to dinner earlier in the day, that I would have enjoyed spending time with him because I had missed him, that I would have changed my plans. And do you know what he said? He said that he would not expect me to change my plans, and that he has school business to discuss with me, so could I come by and see him about that. That hardly sounds like a man who is simply shy about asking me to dinner and risking me turning him down, Quin.”

“P’rhaps not.” Quin shook his head. “I am sorry, love. But it hasn’t been long since you’ve been tryin’ to sway his view of you. Give it more time, give him more time. If you love him, and I know you do, there is a wizard there whom you love, and you need to be patient with that wizard, give him a chance to express himself. Or is this the way he has always been?” he asked.

“I don’t know . . . we haven’t had this kind of contact with each other before, not since I was a student. And that, obviously, was quite different. I still see the wizard I fell in love with, and not just when he is with others, but when he is with me . . . perhaps if he was always this way, either with me or in general, I would think that the person I fell in love with doesn’t really exist, that he had been a construct of my youthful imagination and the strong physical attraction I have to him. But I do still see that wizard, and feel him, it’s just as though he disappears sometimes and becomes this near-stranger.”

“I think you just need to be persistent, Minerva. And honest with him, although perhaps you might not want to admonish him for his desire to spend time with you – I know you didn’t mean it that way, but if he’s unsure of himself, he could interpret it so.” Quin hesitated for a moment. “You know, Minerva, you’ve never said, and if you don’t want to say, that’s fine . . . but you have been in love with him a long time. When did you first realise?”

Minerva sighed. “You’ll think me an irrational, romantic fool. I have loved him practically since I first met him when I was a child, and then one day, I realised I was in love with him and that I needed him desperately but that I could never have him. I was barely seventeen,” she said softly, “and here he was, this very powerful, brilliant, accomplished wizard, my teacher, and I was in love with him. For a long time, I hoped it was just a crush, or the result of a magical accident that I had had, or some combination of the two. Being a teenager, I was very strongly affected by it. And it did come on very suddenly, this realisation . . . but the feelings themselves had been growing before that. I think it was inevitable. I tried to fight it. I tried to ‘cure’ myself of my physical attraction for him, and that didn’t work at all. And I tried to focus my feelings on someone else, thinking that if I were in a normal relationship, one that was appropriate for a witch of my age, my feelings for him would fade and change, but they did not. In fact, it was Carson that I began to see, but when he kissed me – this is terrible, Quin – it literally made me physically ill the first time, and it didn’t get much better, and so I broke it off with him while we were still in school. Then later, when we were both in London and I so rarely saw Albus, I tried with Carson again. He was a dear, sweet boy, and I cared for him, and I wanted a normal relationship. But that time, he broke it off. We were still friends, and we still went about together, but . . . he said that I was destined for someone in particular, and that he wasn’t the one.” Minerva’s eyes filled with tears. “I felt terrible about that, and worse after he was killed.”

Quin took her hand. “He had some of the MacAirt gift. ’Twasn’t strong in the lad, but your feelin’s for Dumbledore . . . they are powerful. He no doubt sensed that. I am sure that he valued your friendship. You needn’t feel bad about it.” Minerva nodded, and Quin said, “Let’s go into the living room. We can have coffee and dessert, if you like.”

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXXII: Seeking Counsel, continued

They settled with their dessert, and Quin said, “You mentioned a magical accident. Would you like to tell me about that?”

Minerva recounted the incident and its aftermath, including her extremely heightened awareness of Albus and how she could barely concentrate when she was in his presence.

When she was through, Quin said, “Sounds t’ me as though, even if the accident didn’t cause the feelin’s, it brought them to the fore, and more strongly than if they’d bided their time to emerge, and despite what your mother and all the books say, I do believe that the way that he staunched your drain had an effect, as well. I’m not sayin’ he caused anythin’ in particular. But you two, if your magic is particularly complementary, it could have caused you to be more sensitive to his magic after that. If ’twere anyone else who did it, nothin’ would have happened between you, but because ’twas Dumbledore, it helped his magic call to yours and yours to his. He’s so powerful, though, it might not effect him the same way – he likely is much more aware o’ the magic residin’ in others, anyway, and was already aware of yours before this accident. If you are . . . soul mates, though I dislike that term,” Quin said with a grimace, “your awareness of his magic would have grown over time, anyway, and your love and physical attraction to him certainly would have.”

“Soul mates? That’s a rather old-fashioned and romantic term. And foolishness, in my opinion,” Minerva said.

“Is it really?” Quin asked with a smile. “Much as I dislike the term, there is some truth to it. If the two meet, that is. And if other circumstances don’t separate them. People can usually live quite happily without their so-called soul mate, and do. Even if they meet, there’s no sayin’ that they won’t meet an’ marry some other person. But the match would never be the same, not as deep, not as enrichin’, not as satisfyin’. . . . I think you and your Albus are like that, but even more so than most, at least on your end. Could be a lot of factors that contribute to that, but your relative youth when you discovered your feelin’s for him probably played a role, and the intensity of them when they first arose. But if I’m right, and I’m not sayin’ I am, this is all conjecture, then Albus has his side o’ the feelin’s, too. Y’aren’t soul mates if the love is unrequited.” At Minerva’s expression, Quin said, “But that’s also good news, as it means conversely that you might still meet someone else, not a soul mate, p’rhaps, but a great love, who loves you and whom you can love.”

“But you said . . . in the divination, you said my joy would die, and my love . . . I don’t understand,” Minerva said.

“I was just sayin’ that you have t’ give it a chance, love,” Quin explained. “You can’t move on until you do. And with any luck, you won’t have t’ move on, and he’ll love you just as you love him, and you’ll both find your joy. But you’ve given your heart to him, and until you reclaim it, either by givin’ it to him openly and havin’ him accept it, or by offerin’ it and, well, havin’ to take it back, so t’ speak, you’ll always be pinin’ for him. Essentially, Minerva, you have t’ stop pinin’, one way or t’other.”

“I don’t know . . . I have tried. I have tried to be more open with him about my feelings for him. And I thought . . . last week, he told me some things about himself, about his past, very private, personal things, and I thought it had some significance for our relationship, but now . . . I just don’t know.”

“I think that is good. You need to be patient with him and yet persistent, is my thinkin’,” Quin answered. “Would you like another glass of wine? Or somethin’ else? I have some nice gilly water a business associate gave me. From Sweden. S’posed to be somethin’ special.”

Minerva shrugged. She did like gilly water. “All right, the gilly water sounds nice.”

After he had poured the clear alcoholic drink for them into two small glasses, he said, “You mentioned that you’ve tried to be more open with your feelin’s. I know you don’t think it went well on his birthday, from what you said, but, have you given it another chance?”

Minerva sighed. “I’ve told him twice that I love him, Quin. Used those precise words. The first time was on his birthday, when, as I told you, he said he was ‘fond’ of me. The second time . . . it was after a long and difficult day. We had found out that Pretnick had died, and how, and Albus was feeling badly about it, naturally, as was I. I was trying to offer him some comfort, and when I hugged him, I said it again, that I loved him. At least this time, he didn’t tell me that he was fond of me, too, but he didn’t say anything at all.”

“But he didn’t push you away,” Quin said. At Minerva’s nod, he said, “He accepts it, then, I would say, though I wasn’t there, and I do have a hard time readin’ him. I figure that it’s all that Occlumency and other self-control he practices. I’ve heard he used to have quite the temper when he was young, killed a man in a fit of rage, so he’s likely grown quite adept at his self-control.”

Minerva frowned. “If it is the story I am thinking it is, he didn’t kill him outright, and the man was raping the fiancée of a friend of his. But you are right, he did have a temper. Or he thinks he did, anyway. And he has learned to control his emotions, I suppose.”

“Well, whatever it was, I find him a difficult read. Hafrena might have a better sense of him, but she never offers an opinion that isn’t asked for.”

“You mean . . . she was my Divination teacher . . . I wasn’t taking Divination when I had my magical accident, but still . . . is it possible that she knows how I feel, that she has always known?” Quin nodded, and Minerva buried her head in her hands. “Oh, gods, how embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, love. She is very sensitive, and your feelin’s are just one set amongst many. As I said, she doesn’t say anythin’ unless asked, and then only of the person who is doin’ the askin’. And she can turn it off, to an extent, so ’tisn’t as if every time you’re in the same room with her, she’s pullin’ your feelin’s off you. She most certainly hasn’t told anyone else,” Quin reassured her.

“Well, that’s a relief, at least.” Something occurred to Minerva. “That reminds me, Quin, have you said anything to Gertrude about me, about my feelings toward Albus? Even unintentionally?”

“What? No, I wouldn’t do that – is this because of what I said about Johannes? That was indiscreet of me, and I shouldn’t have, but really, I haven’t said anything to Gertrude. I haven’t even had occasion to. Other than seeing her at your tea, when I scarcely had an opportunity to speak to her since she was off cavorting with your brother and apparently falling in love, herself, I haven’t spoken with her since the Gamp party. And our correspondence has been on other topics altogether. Although . . .”

“Although?” Minerva asked.

“Well, she did remind me again in a letter last week that . . . that she hoped I was not growing overly attached to you. I didn’t even respond to that, though.” Quin looked uncomfortable.

“She thinks that you are growing too attached to me?” Minerva asked. When Quin nodded, she laughed. “You really should disabuse her of that notion, Quin. Although, preferably without mentioning my own feelings toward the Headmaster.”

Quin shrugged one shoulder, then poured more gilly water for them both. “I can take care o’ me self,” he said. “So, how are things at the school, elsewise?”

Minerva told him more about the puppy that Malcolm had procured for Hagrid, and about Johannes’s unexpected return to the school, and of both occasions that Malcolm had shown up unannounced at her door. As she sipped her gilly water and told Quin of Malcolm’s attempts to pretend that he and Gertrude were nothing but friends until she had revealed that she had seen the two in the corridor, Minerva’s mood lightened. Soon, Quin was telling her of the time that Ella had walked in on him and Aileen when they had thought they were alone. Unfortunately, they couldn’t pretend that nothing was going on, and Ella had looked him up and down and said, “Yes, well, I do understand now, Mr MacAirt, what my daughter sees in you. But I would prefer to see much less of it in the future.” Then she had waited in the kitchen for them to dress, and when they came in and he apologised to her, she had simply wanted to know if they were setting a wedding date.

“And so I asked Aileen t’ marry me, right there in her mother’s kitchen. ’Twasn’t the romantic settin’ I’d planned on, but I’d already found an engagement ring, and could Summon it from me coat pocket, so there was that, at least, and they both knew it wasn’t just because I’d been put on the spot.”

The way Quin told the story, even imitating Ella’s accent, had Minerva laughing, but she said, “I laugh, but that must have been very uncomfortable.”

“For all three of us, I assure you. I don’t know who was more embarrassed!”

Minerva held out her glass, and Quin refilled it, then topped off his own.

They talked more, Quin telling stories about his courtship of Aileen and about his children, and then Minerva told about teaching Hagrid to fly a broom and their games of Swivenhodge the summer she spent at Hogwarts.

“You spent a summer at Hogwarts when you were a student? Isn’t that unusual?” Quin asked.

Minerva nodded. “It was for a special project, and it was the summer after I had discovered ‘It,’ as I called my feelings for Professor Dumbledore, so there were times when it was difficult. But it was fun, too, and I felt very grown up. Well, I was, I suppose, as I was of age, but being a student . . . this was different. I was working with Albus and Gertrude on a special project, and although they obviously were in charge of it – Albus was, anyway – they still treated me more like a colleague than a student.” She took a sip of her gilly water. “I appreciated that from Gertrude, but it didn’t stop my raging jealousy of her.”

“Jealousy?” Quin asked.

“Mmm. Of her relationship with Albus. They may have treated me as an adult on the project, but I was still a child, really, and they had known each other so long. I never wanted to contemplate it, but I was convinced that there was something between them. One time I found them together – not like you and Aileen, or Malcolm and Gertie, or anything like that, thank goodness – but still, they seemed so close, and when Gertrude moved away from him . . . somehow, that was what did it for me. That she had so deliberately let him go and moved away.” Minerva sighed. “Not that I would expect her to do anything else, of course, looking back on it from an adult perspective. But it seemed so fraught with meaning to me . . . and the way he speaks of her, even today, they are obviously very close.”

Quin nodded. “I can see how as a teenager, you would be jealous of her. She could have a kind of access to him that you, as a student, couldn’t have, and they had a long-term friendship. But I doubt they were anything but friends.”

Minerva frowned slightly. “I don’t know, obviously, but . . . I don’t think they are involved now – I know they aren’t now that I’ve seen her and Malcolm together – but I think they may actually have had something in the past. But it’s confusing. I don’t understand it.”

“What don’t you understand?” Quin asked.

“How they could have something, especially after such a long friendship, and now they don’t? Earlier today, I wondered whether perhaps Albus had dumped her for Valerianna, and that’s why he didn’t listen to her when Gertrude tried to tell him that the cow was bad news – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything like that, it must be the gilly water,” Minerva said, feeling as though she had been very indiscreet.

Quin smiled. “I had assumed ’twas somethin’ like that – about Valerianna, not about Albus and Gertrude. But I find it difficult to imagine that Dumbledore would drop Gertie in preference for Anna. He may not be particularly adept when it comes to women, but I think any wizard could see that Gertrude is a much finer witch than Anna.”

Minerva shrugged. “It was just a thought. But you didn’t think that they were ever together like that?”

“’Tisn’t impossible, nor even unlikely, I s’pose. I have only known Gertrude since . . . I don’t know, forty-four, forty-five. We met before I married Aileen, but we didn’t really get to know each other until after the war, after Alroy was born, actually. So, even though I never sensed anything between them, I never have been able to read her well, and ’tis possible that they had some kind of relationship back while you were in school. But I never saw any indication of it when we would get together for family occasions and he would be there. He seemed like a member of the family, but . . . . I don’t know. I could be wrong. But you are definitely correct when you say that if they ever did have anythin’ together, they don’t now, and haven’t had in a long time, or Dumbledore never would have been escortin’ Valerianna, to be sure.”

Minerva yawned. “I’m sorry, Quin . . . I come here, and even when we’re supposed to be relaxing, I somehow bring the conversation back around to Albus. You’ll be very sick of seeing me soon, with all the moaning I do.”

“Ah, love, you are fine. You don’t moan, and I’m happy to be here and listen and try to help however I can. And I do enjoy your company. But it is getting late, and you are tired.”

Minerva nodded and stood. She blinked. “No Apparating for me tonight. I’ll have to Floo back,” she said.

“Then I’ll Floo with you.”

“Oh, no need to do that,” Minerva protested.

“There is a need, love. Even once you Floo to Hogsmeade, you’ll be walkin’ back to the castle alone and in the dark. And you may not have noticed the time, but it is almost one o’clock. You would have to Floo to the Hog’s Head, an’ I’m not after lettin’ you Floo there alone at this hour of the day, for all I know you’re a capable witch,” Quin responded, standing.

“Oh, I had forgotten that . . .”

“Or, you could stay here, if you like,” Quin offered. “There’s a guest room always made up, and I can loan you some pyjamas to Transfigure however they would be comfortable. Then we can have breakfast in the morning, and you can leave when I Floo to work.”

Minerva hesitated. “I wouldn’t want to put you out . . .”

“Wouldn’t be no such thing, Minerva. Mrs Manning will be here tomorrow afternoon, and she can take care of the room. And I always make breakfast every morning. So no trouble at all.”

Minerva smiled. “All right. I would like to avoid the walk, with or without you, to be honest. I feel like I’m asleep already, and I definitely should have stopped drinking the gilly water a glass or two ago.”

“Very good, then. Let me show you your room.”

He brought her upstairs and led her down the hall to a pretty bedroom with pale blue walls and blue and yellow floral furnishings.

“There’s a small loo through here, with its own shower, should you care for one, so you have privacy,” he said, opening the door next to the bed. “There’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet – Mrs Manning is always prepared! – and there should be fresh towels there. I’ll be back in a trice with something for you to wear. Look and make sure that there’s nothing else you need, and that you have enough in the way of towels.”

A few minutes later, Quin rapped on the half-open door. He held out some folded pyjamas. “They’re big, but more to Transfigure, I suppose,” he said with a grin. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Thank you, Quin. But everything is fine. I appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome – I’m sorry I can’t Apparate you, but I have had a bit too much myself. I would hate to have to explain to your Headmaster why I Splinched his new Head of Gryffindor!”

Minerva laughed. When he had left after wishing her sweet dreams, she drew her wand, paused a moment to gather herself together, and Transfigured the pyjamas into a nightgown. Casting spells while tipsy was not something she enjoyed doing. It took far too much concentration to do what she normally did with little effort. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, climbed into bed, and was asleep before she knew it.

---

Next: "His Lady's Servant" 13 August 1957.

[mmteaching]

I can't believe it, how do you do that?
I've read your storry on ffnet because I just found this page just reacently.
I really enjoy reading this storry, always waiting for the next chapter.

[Hogwarts Duo]

I was so devastated when Minerva had to refuse Albus’ dinner invitation. A private dinner together sounds lovely and I’m sure they would have had a remarkable time together. I could actually feel Albus’ disappointment and upon learning of Minerva’s dinner companion, perhaps a twinge of something more. Sniff sniff. I wish she’d cancelled her plans with Quin but that would not have been a nice thing to do on such short notice and I don’t see Minerva as the type to be rude or inconsiderate of others like that. If only he’d asked her sooner...sigh.

I noticed something in this chapter and in thinking back, I'm ashamed to admit it's taken me this long to pick up on it. The Silent Knight always introduces Albus when he comes to Minerva's rooms but Fidelio always barks whenever anyone else comes to see Minerva. Is that coincidence or have I stumbled across another of your little gems that makes this story so much fun to read?

I think Quin has some sound advice for Minerva and I hope she uses it accordingly. It would be nice if she’d stop mentioning work as an excuse to see him and just let him know she wants to be there with him as a friend, hopefully more one day but we’ll take what we can get at this point. LOL.

I found it absolutely hilarious when Minerva was teasing Quin about Malcolm and the chat she had with him. I'd love to have seen his face. Of course, I'd also love to have seen Ella's face when she discovered Quin and Aileen in a rather compromising position, shall we say...tee hee. Talk about a show stopper!! But at least he had the ring so he could prove his intentions were honorable.

Uh oh…I see trouble on the horizon. First, Minerva has to decline the dinner with Albus. Then, she tells him that she’s dining with Quin, who Albus already thinks would make a fine match for Minerva, even if it did break his heart into a bazillion pieces. And now, she has to stay overnight at Quin’s house. Why oh why do I feel like this is not a good idea at all but a COLOSSAL mistake instead? Now you’ve got me on the edge of my seat and nearly biting my nails (metaphorically speaking since I don’t bite my nails).

Can’t wait for the next update!!!

TTFN,
The GLM

[Merriam]

Oh, wow . . . Albus is going to get the completely wrong idea, isn't he? For all he can be brilliant, he can be quite stubborn and thick-skulled. But we love him anyway! ;D

I applaud Quin's wonderful insights regarding Albus' behavior. It's nice for Minerva to have a (mostly) impartial male observer to confide in--although I am now concerned about Quin. After Gertrude's letter to Quin and his reaction to Minerva's dismissal of it--could it be he is becoming a bit too attached, after all? Don't get me wrong, I love Quin--but Minerva really does belong with Albus. I just don't want to see him get hurt.

My, Albus does blow hot and cold--I would be concerned about his mental health, but I have some faith that he will miraculously recover after the "Moment of Blurt," for which I am waiting patiently. Or not so patiently. Are we anywhere near the "plunge": the inevitable storm before the calm?

I will be w-a-i-t-i-n-g!

[esoterica1693]

Poor Minerva. Albus needs to be slapped around w/ a cold wet fish, so he knows how he comes across. <g>

Quin's advice to Minerva is good, but I think she underplayed her efforts to him. Her final speech to Albus just before he left did make it clear, IMO, that she wanted to spend time w/ him just because she enjoys his company, and not just on school business, and that she really did wish she could have had dinner w/ him--and would have welcomed a more formal invitation w/ more lead time and forethought. That was a very brave and honest speech on her part and I hope it makes Albus think. Unfortunately he is rather prone to thinking *the wrong things.*

Her spending the night at Quin's will certainly make Albus's blue eyes turn green. I think it's almost certain he will a) notice she hasn't returned that evening; and b) run into her as she comes up the walk attired in the same clothes she left in, and c) masochistically jump to all the wrong conclusions. Then he will presumably do something very stupid, self-defeating and supremely hurtful to Minerva--b/c there isn't all that much more time to develop and resolve the huge crisis we've been promised/threatened!

Judging by the next chapter title the (Usually) Silent Knight must get involved somehow....hmm....

Quin is great in this chapter as always. The story of his getting caught w/ Aileen was wonderful! (As was Minerva's tweaking him re Malcolm's interest!) I do hope Quin finds a good witch for himself some time down the road, when he's ready....

[MMADfan]

esoterica1693 said:

Poor Minerva. Albus needs to be slapped around w/ a cold wet fish, so he knows how he comes across. <g>

Quin's advice to Minerva is good, but I think she underplayed her efforts to him. Her final speech to Albus just before he left did make it clear, IMO, that she wanted to spend time w/ him just because she enjoys his company, and not just on school business, and that she really did wish she could have had dinner w/ him--and would have welcomed a more formal invitation w/ more lead time and forethought. That was a very brave and honest speech on her part and I hope it makes Albus think.

True, but it may be a case of too little too late, and certainly the wrong timing. And Quin was talking about the way that Minerva had approached Albus earlier in the day.

As for the crisis , can you see it looming on the horizon?

I'm glad people enjoyed a slightly discomfited Quin when Minerva was teasing him about Malcolm. ;D Teehee!

[esoterica1693]

Well, as for earlier in the day, it was *Albus*, not Minerva, who changed the subject back from chitchat about their respective holidays to the applications. She was *trying* to make small talk about subjects other than school, and he shut her down and brought it back to the paperwork. Yes, she returned to the school ostensibly to do work, but she's chatting w/ him about other things until he cuts her off....

So if he reads her as not being interested in spending time w/ him for things other than school, as Quin suggested he might, IMO I think it's only because he's *looking* to take offense/have her appear that way, for whatever inner reasons of his own....On the intellectualizing surface of his brain he doesn't *want* to see her as interested in him as more than a boss, even though on a deeper level he wants nothing more strongly....

Obviously Albus's opinion differs <g>

[Orion's Guard]

The both of them are just sendnig crazy mixed signals.

Minerva is going to have to find out about Gertrude and Albus, but I am curious how. I also agree that her staying out all night when Albus knows she's with Quin is not going to make Albus feel any more comfortable opening up to her. I'd kind of like them to have a fight, because that makes things more interesting. I liked the way this whole story opened with Minerva all pissed, and we haven't seen a lot more of that side of her (which is good, becasue it is in character for her to seem reserved, but the temper deep down is part of her hidden passion I think).

And while it would be a bit sad if all of their feelings came out in a fit of temper, they each might be able to get a couple of clues from an argument.

[Merriam]

All right, I am obsessively checking for updates instead of studying (read: cramming) for finals. Do you have any idea when we can expect one, so I might be able to get a little work done until then? All these "study breaks" are interfering with my productivity. ;D

Sorry I'm so impatient. Take it as a compliment.

[MMADfan]

merriam said:

All right, I am obsessively checking for updates instead of studying (read: cramming) for finals. Do you have any idea when we can expect one, so I might be able to get a little work done until then? All these "study breaks" are interfering with my productivity. ;D

Sorry I'm so impatient. Take it as a compliment.

Sometime on Monday. Probably in the morning, my time (right now, it's almost nine at night where I am).

[sevherfan]

I was just saying to myself, "Man, why can't we have perfect happy flirty moments anymore... A little trip to Albus's secret place again... Lunch and icecream in the village.... I'd take anything." when I saw your:

"As for the crisis , can you see it looming on the horizon? "

:/ Ehh, ok, I can take a hint. Things will get worse before they get better. In theory I would have no problem with that. Bad moments can contain glimmers of hope, like when Albus called Minerva back to him three times when she tried to leave in anger. But the problem is - any disaster you write will be spread over multiple chapters! Multiple chapters mean multiple updates! Multiple updates mean multiple days, weeks, etc!!! Worse than disasters is waiting weeks to find out what happens when the disaster is over! Elongated disasters!!!! Look at all those exclamation points! I'm working myself up worrying that I won't be able to read the resolution of the disaster that hasn't happened yet!!

(By the way, I can't believe she and Quin didn't drunkenly kiss. It is so good she didnt - she will be able to explain it all to Albus later - but I would have looked past her weak moment with the attractive wizard with so much alcohol involved. You also made me go back a page to the last chapter to find out the date this chapter happened so I could figure out that the next chapter is happening the next day. I hope the Silent Knight doesn't get chatty. Pfff...)

[MMADfan]

Note: Not DH-compliant!

Posted in three parts because of length.

CXXXIII: His Lady’s Servant

Minerva woke in the morning, somewhat confused about where she was. When she remembered, she hopped out of bed and washed and dressed quickly, putting her hair up in a quick, loose bun. Casting a Tempus, she saw that it was only quarter past six. Tuesday the thirteenth. The ides of August, Minerva thought, smiling as she remembered Hagrid’s new puppy. The ides of August should not be fraught with danger and doom. She didn’t know when Quin normally rose, but she didn’t feel comfortable poking around in his kitchen, or anywhere in the house, for that matter, if he wasn’t up yet, so she simply opened her door a crack so that when he got up, he would see that she was up, as well.

Kicking off her shoes again, she pulled the covers of the bed up, then lay down on top of them. She had had a nice evening with Quin, and she was feeling reassured. Albus could very well just be trying, in his own way, to show her he cared about her and wanted to spend time with her, but without placing any pressure on her or risking rejection. That was a much nicer interpretation of his belated invitation to dinner than the ones that she had considered. Or, as Quin had said before, he could simply be confused by his feelings. Minerva smiled. Perhaps Albus was coming to see her as a potential . . . something. Lover? What terms would he use? Girlfriend? No, that didn’t sound right. Paramour? No, that would sound as though they were having an illicit affair. Mistress? Equally bad. Possibly even worse connotations. What would he think of himself in relation to her? Her suitor, perhaps? But that sounded staid and too chaste. But he was from a different era than she . . . she wanted him to be her lover, possibly more, but for now, she couldn’t imagine wanting more, or what that more could be. Marriage eventually. That is what people did when they fell in love . . . somehow, though, that seemed an even more impossible thought than that Albus might be coming to be attracted to her, and her entire fantasy seemed to crumble as she considered it. As she felt her tension and unhappiness returning, she thought again of Quin’s words, his advice to love Albus and let him love her, and that eased her mind. Put that way, it seemed possible, and not absurd at all.

She was just coming to that conclusion when she heard steps in the hallway, then Quin rapped on the door.

“Minerva?”

“I’m here, Quin,” she answered, rising from the bed.

He opened the door and greeted her with a smile. “Ready for breakfast? I am sorry I have t’ leave so early in the morning, but you know what they say about early birds, worms, and all that.”

“That’s fine. I need to get back to the school, anyway.” She looked at him as they walked down the hall. “Wizarding business today, I see.”

Quin was dressed in dark blue robes of a conservative cut, though they had clearly been tailored for him, and he wore a starched white shirt beneath.

“Indeed. In fact, a visit to the Ministry.” He quirked a smile. “Perhaps I will even see our friend Franky and I can ask him how his engagement is treating him.”

Minerva smiled. “I actually feel sorry for him.”

“He’s a grown wizard,” Quin responded, little sympathy for the man.

Quin made Minerva tea and himself coffee, then set about doing a quick fry-up for them both. This time, he put a long flowered pinny on over his robes, completely unself-consciously, and Minerva smiled to watch him work.

“This should hold you for a while, love,” he said as he served her. “More tea?”

Minerva enjoyed her breakfast with Quin, but was feeling increasingly anxious to leave, and so was pleased when Quin suggested that it was time to go.

“You can Floo with me to the Ministry, then Apparate from there, if you like. Unless you know of somewhere in Hogsmeade with an open Floo connection at this hour.”

Shortly thereafter, Minerva found herself in the familiar atrium at the Ministry and felt a distinct sense of relief that she no longer worked there. It had been fine at the time, but she could not imagine returning to it. The morning influx of Ministry workers hadn’t yet begun, and Quin walked her to the designated Disapparition point, their footsteps echoing in the near-empty hall.

“Safe home, Minerva,” he said to her softly. “I enjoyed our evening, and our breakfast.”

“Thank you, Quin. It was very nice, and I really appreciated your cooking and your company.”

“See you sometime again soon, then, and let me know how things are at Hogwarts,” Quin said. Minerva nodded, and he leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly. He looked into her eyes. “You have faith in yourself, Minerva. You are a fine witch, and I do not believe your wizard to be a fool.” He touched her cheek gently then shook his head. “You will always be safe with me, Minerva, as I said, but . . . .”

Quin stepped back and nodded to her, then turned and walked rapidly away towards the golden gates, leaving Minerva somewhat confused, but she focussed on the Hogwarts gates and Disapparated, arriving a scant moment later at her destination. She smiled involuntarily. Home. She was home. Home was where the heart was, and her heart was with Albus, whether he was aware of it or not.

Minerva opened the gates and walked rapidly up to the castle, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. The doors were still bolted, so she used the summer password to gain entry, then trotted up the stairs to the first floor, paused and considered using her office Floo, then decided against that and continued up the next six flights. As she walked down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower and her rooms, she heard someone else in one of the narrow hallways off the main corridor, and as she reached her rooms, she saw Albus coming toward her from the other side of the castle.

“Good morning, Albus!” she greeted him cheerily. He was wearing conservative robes of taupe and mauve with pewter trim, but at least he wasn’t wearing the ugly grey ones she had seen him in before her holiday. It was good to be back at Hogwarts with Albus again.

“Professor McGonagall,” Albus said evenly, nodding. His eyes moved over her. “Just getting in,” he observed.

Minerva smiled. “Yes, you see, it was – ”

“I was unaware when you left yesterday that you would be away from the castle overnight,” he said stiffly. “In the future, when it is anticipated that you be in the castle, it would be appreciated if you would give notice that you will not be. Your holiday is yours to spend as you wish, but if you are expected here, it is a matter of protocol to inform us so that we are aware of your absence.”

Minerva felt the wind go out of her. “I just . . . it was late . . . I hadn’t planned – ” she began, trying to explain.

“You should make your plans better in the future, then, Professor,” he said coolly.

“Of course. And if you would be so kind as to inform me as to how I might relay such a message at one o’clock in the morning in the event that I am again so derelict in planning, I would appreciate it, Professor Dumbledore.” Her jaw muscles hurt from clenching her teeth. She spoke evenly, attempting to match his cool tone, but her injured feelings close to the surface. “And I do understand that as a member of the staff, I am under an obligation to inform you of my general whereabouts, or at least of my absence from the castle, when I am on holiday, so that I may be reached in an emergency, and you, as Headmaster, are under no reciprocal obligation to me, a mere member of staff. However, I would have thought that as an adult witch, how and where I pass my free time would be my concern and no one else’s. I can assure you that my parents, knowing that I was in London visiting a friend, would not address me in this way the next morning upon my return home. It is not as though I went missing and no one had a clue where I was. When you left on your holiday, on the other hand, I was completely unaware of it until I returned to the castle myself, and then upon your return, you scarcely shared anything with me about your time away. But, as I say, you are the Headmaster, and I, a mere member of your staff. And foolish witch that I am, I believed our friendship was the more important factor in our relationship. Now I see that I was incorrect, and I apologise for my misapprehension, Professor. Please assume in the future that when I leave the castle during the summer, I will not be returning until I am required. If I happen to return beforetime, then that shall be a pleasant surprise for everyone. And I apologise if I overstepped the limits of our friendship yesterday when I suggested that you might share your present thoughts, feelings, and concerns with me. I see that it is not my place to expect or even to desire such a thing of you. Now, you did have Hogwarts business to discuss with me. If you would care to discuss it now, Professor?” Minerva’s heart hammered in her chest, and she could scarcely keep herself calm enough to speak, but she was not about to let her hurt and her anger get the better of her, not in front of Albus.

Albus’s expression had scarcely changed, though he did seem slightly taken aback by Minerva’s words. “It was not particularly important,” he said quietly. “I had simply wished . . . .” He shook his head slightly, and continued more firmly, “I am going to ask your brother Malcolm to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. I had thought to ask you if it would discomfit you if I were to do so, and were he found an acceptable candidate, if he were then hired.”

“You are the Headmaster. You may do as you see fit. But I do suggest, although it is not my place to do so, that you consult your Deputy Headmistress in the matter. She may have some . . . thoughts on it.” She was virtually holding her breath in her effort to remain calm. “If that is all?”

Albus nodded. “Yes – ”

Minerva turned toward the Silent Knight, but as she was about to utter the password, the Knight bowed to her and the door clicked open. She pulled it open.

“Good day to you, Professor,” she said, not turning back to him.

“Good day.” He hesitated. “Minerva, I – ”

Minerva shook her head. “I have things to do. If you have no other Hogwarts business to discuss with me, sir, I would like to get to on with my day.”

“Of course. Excuse me.”

Minerva nodded without looking at him, and stepped into her sitting room, closing her door behind her. As soon as the door was shut, her composure completely crumbled, and tears rolled down her face. She slid to the floor, her back to the door, and wept.

To her annoyance, the Silent Knight creaked into the sitting room. “Oh, just tell whoever it is to go away,” she said.

“There is no one else, my lady,” the Knight said gently. “It is only I, your servant, who calls on you. Fidelio guards your door. I have come to beg that I may assist you in your hour of need. Tell me how I may serve!”

Minerva laughed through her tears. A painting come to comfort her! How utterly absurd and pathetic. “There is nothing. But I do thank you.” She sniffed. Despite how pathetic it was, she did appreciate the Knight’s presence and apparent concern. “I just want to be alone and undisturbed right now.”

“Very well, my lady.” He bowed. “I shall endeavour to serve!”

After the Knight left, Minerva stood. She should change her clothes at least. As she walked into her bedroom, she pulled off her earrings. She put her jewellery away mechanically, then stripped off her robes and put them in the laundry. She considered a shower, but remembering her foolish fantasy from the day before, she decided against one. She should dress, she thought, but instead, she padded out to her sitting room in her chemise and knickers and picked up the afghan. Holding it to her, tears rose in her eyes once more.

Nothing was working out. Just as she would begin to feel as though there was some hope that Albus might care for her, that they might be becoming more than friends, she would learn that Albus saw her as something else, something less, scarcely even a staff member, more like a child, a “good girl.” Today, a good girl who had been naughty and stayed out past curfew. Minerva could not imagine that Albus would ever speak to Johannes that way, nor to Gertrude, nor to anyone else on staff, for that matter. During the summer, Hagrid would go off drinking in Hogsmeade and not return to the grounds until the early hours of the morning then sleep past noon. But the rules were different for her. She was just a little errant Gryffindor student again, out past curfew. He hadn’t even allowed her to explain. Not that she should have had to, though she would have been perfectly happy to tell him if he had let her. And there was little to explain. It had been late and getting back to the school at that hour would have been more than just inconvenient. He would have done the same in her position, she was certain.

If it weren’t that Melina and Brennan deserved their privacy this early in their relationship, she would just leave that day and go stay at Melina’s until she was required to be back the week before school started. But despite what Melina had said about her always being welcome there, Minerva didn’t want to intrude at that time. And she certainly didn’t want to go stay with her parents. She didn’t want to be around anyone just then . . . she could just take a real holiday. Go away for a few days. Take a room in a hotel somewhere.

Minerva sat down on the sofa. She didn’t want to go anywhere. She wanted to be here, but she wanted things to be different. She wanted them to be the way they had been before Pretnick had died, or before she had left on holiday. She wanted to be with the Albus who held her hand as they walked through the garden. But she had taken his hand; he had not taken hers. But he had treated her very romantically that evening in Edinburgh, and he had been very sweet at many times since then. She lay down, covering herself with the afghan, and closed her eyes, remembering his expression as he placed the rose in her hair, saying he would be her mirror, telling her she was beautiful.

Minerva sighed. There was something about Albus that she did not understand. She wanted to understand it. Perhaps he had only been concerned, worried about her, and had just expressed himself poorly. But he had been so . . . cold to her. Minerva pushed the afghan aside and went into her bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and knelt to pull out the wooden box with his correspondence in it. She brought the box back into the sitting room, wrapped the afghan around her, then opened it.

Beginning with the earliest ones, mere notes, she started looking through them, even finding an old pass he had written for her one evening when she was out after curfew her fifth year. She had read second-year parchments for him, she remembered. Albus had been so exhausted that night, and so near tears. He had appreciated her help then, though. And last month, when he had her for dinner in his suite, he had had Wilspy serve the same meal they had that night, the one she had ordered for him.

Slowly, she read through the notes from her time as a student, and then started reading the letters he had written her after she had left school and begun work at the Ministry. Her head ached, though, so finally, she called Blampa and asked for a Headache Potion. After she took it, she put the letters she had read back into the box and placed the others on the table in front of the couch. It was almost lunchtime, but she really wasn’t hungry, so she cast a few cooling charms, wrapped herself in her afghan, invoked the charm, and lay down on the sofa for a nap.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXXIII: His Lady’s Servant, continued

Albus sat at the desk in his study, fiddling with his plumy purple quill. The quill that Minerva had given him. He could see the reason in everything that she had said. And he never would have dreamed of admonishing another staff member if they were out overnight during the summer, not unless there had been some good reason why they should have returned and had been expected to do so. At the very most, he would have asked them where they had been. No, it had been jealousy, of all things. He wasn’t prone to jealousy. Even as a youngster, he had simply seen the accomplishments of others and striven to accomplish more, himself. And to be jealous like this . . . it was unhealthy. It was possessive and controlling. And even worse, he had no call to be jealous, absolutely none. He was her friend and her employer. Quin was . . . Albus didn’t want to think about what Quin was. But he couldn’t help it. The young man had sat right there and told him that he had no romantic interest in Minerva, and that Minerva had none in him. And Minerva had repeated the same to him; even yesterday, she had claimed that it wasn’t a date. Yet she was Apparating. She had to have visited his home before in order to do that. And then last night . . . last night he had played Go with Johannes until almost eleven o’clock, when finally, distracted, he found himself completely surrounded, and Johannes had won. It had made Johannes quite happy, since he lost three or four games to every one that he managed to win. He had said good-night to Johannes, but he still hadn’t readied himself for bed, remembering how Minerva had come to see him after her date with Filius, and again after she had dinner with Quin in Hogsmeade.

Finally, at midnight, he went down to his office and opened the cupboard in which he kept his Charmed parchments. He rarely used them, and he hesitated to now. It would be prying . . . it would be for his own personal gain, not for school business. But he cast the necessary spells, and the results were clear and easy to read, there were so few people in the castle. Johannes was in his bedroom in Ravenclaw Tower. Gertrude and Malcolm . . . were both together. In her rooms. In her bedroom, in fact. Well, that answered one question that he hadn’t wished to ask. Johannes’s name was steady, but Gertrude’s and Malcolm’s names seemed to pulse, becoming thicker and bolder, then returning to the normal script. He could imagine what that might mean, and he averted his eyes. But Minerva’s name was not on the list. There was Fawkes listed. For some reason, he was perched in the Astronomy Tower. But no other being or creature was named. Albus still hadn’t set the wards properly to detect the ghosts. It had been a low priority, and he had never managed to get to it.

He ended the spells, put the Charmed parchments back in the cupboard, and returned to his rooms. It was after midnight. If Minerva hadn’t returned yet, she would have to Floo through to the Hog’s Head. Alone. He should leave word with Aberforth to watch for her. He started back down to his office, but then changed his mind. Aberforth would find it unusual. And he had no idea whether she would Floo back; she might Apparate directly to the gates. Or she might Floo to her parents’ house and not return to the school at all. Albus sighed and went to bed. But lying there in bed, he admitted that he believed that Minerva had stayed in London, with Quin. And that they were likely engaged in the same activities that he presumed Gertrude and Malcolm were.

Gertrude had suggested to him that he consider Malcolm for the position of Defence instructor, and it seemed a very good idea to him, but she didn’t want to approach him about it herself. She hadn’t said why, but now he assumed that it must have something to do with their relationship. Until he knew more about the relationship, though, he couldn’t speculate about what that reason might be. Albus assumed that Gertrude would tell him about the relationship at some point. He hadn’t even been aware that she had returned to the castle, nor that Malcolm had returned with her. But she was the Deputy Headmistress, and a teacher of almost twenty years. If she wished to have an overnight guest during the summer, that was certainly her privilege. And it wasn’t as though Malcolm were a stranger, and he had been present earlier in the day. It was hardly surprising that he would return with her. It was somewhat surprising to Albus, however, that their relationship had evidently progressed to the point it had as quickly as it did. But if she was happy, and if Malcolm was good to her, then he was happy for her. She had been alone a long time and had had too much sadness in her life and spent too much of her life looking after others, often at a cost to herself. It was time for her to have some happiness, some joy just for herself.

Albus woke early after an unrestful sleep. Wilspy still wasn’t back, so he made do without his first morning cup of tea before his shower, and waited until he was dressed to call Hwouly and request his breakfast. He ate little of it, though, preoccupied with thoughts of Minerva. He couldn’t understand why she would claim that she and Quin were not involved when they were. Minerva wasn’t prone to lying. There was no reason for her to be coy about a relationship with Quin. Particularly not when he had praised the young wizard, told her he was a fine catch. But Gertrude hadn’t said anything about Malcolm, either. He also hadn’t asked, and Gertrude had never lied about it. If he were to ask Gertrude point-blank, Albus was certain that she would tell him the truth. He wouldn’t ask her such a thing, of course. It was none of his business. Neither of them were married. Malcolm was a decent wizard, if unconventional in his ways. As long as she didn’t carry on obviously once the students had returned, there was nothing that he would have to say against it. Gertrude was his friend, though, and Albus was sure that when she felt the time was right, she would tell him about the relationship.

Albus went down to his office after banishing his breakfast, and Fawkes joined him briefly. Albus gave the large bird some seed clusters and dried fruit snacks, and Fawkes let forth a merry, cheering song before vanishing in a flash. Albus’s mood brightened some, then he went to the window and let in two early Post Owls, one delivering his Daily Prophet, the other with that Friday’s Wizengamot schedule. It didn’t appear there was anything on the docket that he would need to be present for, although he did like to attend as many sessions as possible, and always any in which the issue was a serious one. He jotted a quick note to the Wizengamot’s secretary saying that he would not be in attendance, but that if any serious issues arose unexpectedly, to please inform him.

With Wilspy absent, and having already sent the Post Owls on their way, Albus took his backstairs down to the seventh floor, pausing briefly to consider whether he should look in on Minerva, but deciding against it and proceeding to the Owlery. He chose a large Tawny Owl to carry his note into London, and as he gave it a final stroke to the back of its neck and let it loose, Albus looked out across the grounds. Minerva was just entering the grounds and walking up the drive to the castle. He couldn’t see her well from that height, but he believed that she was dressed as she had been the previous afternoon.

Albus grimaced involuntarily, and it felt as though it was suddenly difficult to breathe. So she had spent the night with him. He should be happy that she was entering a new relationship and a new phase of her life, but he couldn’t muster any positive feelings at all. He felt as though Minerva had lied to him when she had said there was nothing between the two. Albus reminded himself that just because she hadn’t returned the night before didn’t mean that she had spent the night in London with Quin. Perhaps she had gone on somewhere else afterward, to her niece’s, or to another friend’s in the city. And even if she had spent the night at MacAirt’s, it didn’t necessarily mean that the two had spent the night together. The man did have children, after all. Though he had said something about them being in Ireland when he had been there the day after the warding.

Albus tried to get hold of himself. There was no point in being jealous, and it certainly wasn’t healthy. He was happy that Minerva had a life and friendships outside of the school, he told himself. He had encouraged her, in fact. No, he wasn’t jealous. He certainly had no right to be jealous. But nonetheless, Minerva’s behaviour was not what he would expect of a member of Hogwarts staff. Spending the night with the father of one of her students simply was not done. It set a bad example and it would reflect badly on the school if people gossiped about it. And she had not said that she would be gone overnight. Minerva was normally very responsible, but it was certainly irresponsible to be expected back at the castle and then be away all night. Something could have happened to her and no one would have known.

He made his way down out of the Owlery back to the seventh floor. Rather than heading toward his backstairs, however, Albus walked toward Gryffindor Tower. He had no clear plan in mind. He wanted to see Minerva, certainly, and ascertain that she was safe. And he would remind her of her duties toward the school.

And that was where he went very wrong, Albus recognised as he sat at there in his study. First, trying to pretend to himself that he was acting only as Hogwarts Headmaster, second, acting like a complete fool in saying what he had, and third, not allowing Minerva to explain when she had tried to. If he had only stopped before he had said what he had about informing him of her whereabouts. He had sounded like an overbearing father speaking to a teenage witch, not at all like a Headmaster speaking to a member of staff, let alone one friend speaking to another.

Now that Albus looked back on it, he remembered how happy she had seemed to be to see him, and how her expression had changed to one of stunned disbelief, and then to one of anger. Oh, she had controlled herself, but there was no doubt but that Minerva was angry with him. And with good reason. He was behaving like that doctor in the book by Stevenson he had read many years ago. The warm friend one day, and the stern, overbearing Headmaster the next. He smirked humourlessly to himself. One thing that he did not want was for Minerva to see him as a father-figure, and what did he do? Not only behave like one, but like a heavy-handed, controlling father, at that.

Albus put his head in his hands, remembering the wonderful afternoon they had spent walking in the garden just one week ago, and how even the previous day, she had been happy to see him returned to the castle, and how she had flushed with pleasure and smiled when he had said that a special person had been advising him to eat his veg. His emotions toward Minerva were causing him to do and say things that he never would have dreamed of doing or saying. And unfortunately, these were not positive things. But it was his own fault, not Minerva’s. The poor witch must be wondering what on earth she had done to deserve such unexpectedly nasty treatment. And she had done nothing. He was punishing her for his own faults, and that was terribly wrong.

Opening the drawer that contained his photographs of Minerva, Albus remembered what he had dropped into it, somewhat negligently, a few weeks ago. After removing the three pictures, he rummaged around until he found the small object, which had slipped down to rest at the bottom of the drawer. He pulled it out and held it up by its dark cord. He wasn’t superstitious, and certainly not about Muggle artifacts, but this . . . Gregor, Maria’s oldest brother, had a naturally-occurring nazar, also set in a bit of mirrored glass, just as this one was. He had explained to Albus that the power of the artificial nazar was in the mind of the beholder and the heart of the one who wore it, but that those were mere shadows of the real nazar, the naturally-occurring nazar stones, inspired by them, but never having their power. Set within a mirror, Gregor had explained, the nazar had the power to avert the envy of others and the evil that can befall one who is envied, but more than that, the natural nazar stone could eliminate the evil of envy and jealousy in its bearer and, set in its mirror, could allow the person clear sight, a vision of others unclouded or tainted by the twisting power of the twins, envy and jealousy. It could keep at bay all manner of evil, Gregor said, but chiefly those two.

Albus held the nazar tightly in his hand, the setting biting slightly into his curled fingers. He did not believe in the nazar, natural or otherwise, and yet . . . He shook his head, clearing it, and looked at his photographs of Minerva, first of the one when she was a student, then of the one taken shortly after his defeat of Grindelwald, and then the one, in colour, taken after her Challenge. Seeing her turn toward him again, and how her smile had brightened when she saw him there, a lump rose in his throat. So much like the smile she had given him that morning in the hallway outside her rooms. And he had driven that smile away with his words. Albus swallowed past the lump and gazed a while longer at the photograph before returning it to its drawer. The nazar, he dropped into his pocket. He would carry it for the day, remind himself of his folly, and then he would find a better place for it than the bottom of a drawer. It may have no intrinsic power, he thought, but it was unusual, and a rare gift, especially from a stranger on the street.

Albus went downstairs to his office and spent the rest of the morning pushing parchments around on his desk, then he left for lunch a few minute early, hoping to see Minerva and tell her he was sorry. He didn’t know what excuse he would give her, but perhaps simply begging her forgiveness would be sufficient. He certainly was not living up to his promises to her.

But Minerva did not arrive early to lunch; indeed, she did not arrive at all. Malcolm and Gertrude were in fine spirits, as was Hagrid, and Johannes, although he seemed somewhat quieter than usual, had attempted to draw him out after thanking him for the game of Go the night before. Albus was preoccupied and again ate little. As he left the staff room, he felt a hand at his elbow.

“Albus, were you going to speak to Malcolm?” Gertrude asked.

“Oh, yes, of course . . . ask him to come round to my office when he has finished eating, won’t you?”

Gertrude looked at him curiously. “Is everything all right?”

He mustered a smile. “Everything is fine. Just fine, my dear.”

Gertrude stepped away from the staff room and closed the door behind her.

“I planned to discuss this with you, in private, soon . . . and I can’t go into it here,” she said softly, looking around, “but the reason I’d prefer you to ask him about the job is that . . . you may have noticed that we’ve become friends. And, I hope, something more. So I think it’s best that you bring it up to him. I’ll speak with him about it, of course, afterwards, but it’s better coming from you. I hope . . . that isn’t what is bothering you, is it?”

“No, Gertie, and I am pleased for you if you are happy.” He squeezed her arm. “You have always been very dear to me, you know that . . . and I may not have said it before, but I do love you, and I only want the very best for you. So if you are happy, I am happy.”

A bright smile crossed Gertrude’s face, a happier one than Albus was used to seeing on his friend. “Thank you! Thank you, I will tell him.” She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then her happiness was so great that she put her arms around him in a fierce hug, somewhat surprising Albus.

Malcolm chose that moment to open the door to the staff room and step into the hall. He closed the door behind him.

“Ahem,” he said, suppressing a grin as Gertie suddenly let go of Albus. “I am now available for embraces, no substitutes necessary!”

“We were just talking – ” Gertrude began.

“I see that,” Malcolm answered, humour dancing in his eyes. “Very interesting conversation it must have been, too!”

Gertrude smiled at him. “It was concerning you, actually. Albus wants to speak with you, don’t you Albus?”

“Indeed, my boy, I most certainly do. If you would join me in my office shortly?” Albus asked.

“Of course, Professor.” He grinned at Gertrude. “But I think that Tru and I have to have a conversation of our own first.”

As Albus began to climb the stairs, he caught sight of Gertrude pulling Malcolm into the Great Hall, which was always deserted at this time of year. Forty-five minutes later, the charms on the gargoyle announced that someone had been admitted to the stairway. Although Albus hoped that it was Minerva, he was unsurprised when another McGonagall stepped into his office.

“Gertrude gave me the password to your gargoyle,” he said simply.

“Yes, that’s fine. Welcome. Please, have a seat,” Albus invited. He really did not want to be having a conversation about the Defence job, but it was better than sitting there pretending to work and wondering whether Minerva would forgive him and whether she were well.

After hearing what the topic of conversation was to be, Malcolm laughed, and said that he had never considered any kind of permanent job before, let alone one at an institution such as Hogwarts, but he would hear what Albus had to say about it before dismissing the notion out of hand. By the end of the discussion, Malcolm agreed to consider applying for the job, saying that he would send a letter if he decided on it, but that he wished to speak with Minerva and Trudie about it first.

Albus had heard Malcolm refer to Gertrude as “Tru,” and now as “Trudie,” and it surprised him some.

“Just out of impertinent curiosity, my boy, did Gertrude invite you to call her ‘Trudie’?” Albus asked.

“No, just started to. Suits her. She said she wasn’t fussed by it, and I don’t use it in general public, but you’re not the general public, I’m thinking,” Malcolm answered.

“Hmm. Interesting . . . I have only known one other person who used that form of her name. A few others may have attempted to use it, but they were informed that the appellation was unwelcome.” In response to Malcolm’s puzzled look and unspoken query, Albus added, “It was her late husband’s pet name for her. I always liked it, myself, but never used it.”

“Well, she seemed surprised when I first called her that, but she didn’t hex me, and I asked and she said it was fine,” Malcolm said. He grinned. “She is a surprising witch. She has certainly surprised me at a time in my life when surprises were becoming rather thin on the ground.”

Albus hesitated, then said, “I shall give you a bit of unasked-for advice, if I may. If Gertrude is only a surprise to you, and nothing more . . . tell her that. And if you value her only for her novelty, think about what you may do when that novelty wears off.”

“You two are close friends, then,” Malcolm said. “I do believe that Gertrude and I have spoken of what is necessary. I appreciate your desire to look after her, as I assume that is how your advice is intended, but she can look after herself, and that is an important quality in her. And to the extent that she does need any looking after, or would simply benefit from it, I will do it, and you needn’t worry yourself. But I do thank you for the advice, as unnecessary as it may have been.”

“We have been friends for forty years. I don’t think that I will ever stop wanting to look out for her interest, even when it is no longer necessary,” Albus replied. “Thank you for not taking offence at my putting my oar in.”

“Can’t be offended when it’s on the lady’s behalf. She is lucky to have you as a friend.” Malcolm stood, smiling, and offered his hand, which Albus shook. “I’ll let you know if I decide I’d like to teach your kids not to get banged up.”

“If you could let me know shortly, I would appreciate it. We do need to have someone in place on the first. I could stand in, of course, until we found a suitable candidate, but I had hoped not to have to teach and to be able to devote myself to my other work,” Albus explained.

“Before the end of the week, then? Is that soon enough?”

“That would be fine. Thank you for considering it.”

After Malcolm left, Albus quickly wrote a note to Minerva. As he had sat there talking about the school with Malcolm, another part of him had been preoccupied with Minerva.

“13 August 1957

“Dearest Minerva,

“I wish to beg your forgiveness for my rudeness this morning. Everything you said had merit, and there is nothing you said that I would neglect when castigating myself, although I would add a few things. I was insensitive and unjust, and I never ought to have said what I did, never mind the way that I said it. I know that I have had to ask your pardon frequently in these last days, and I wish I could explain its cause. Please just know that, whatever my faults and however bad my behaviour toward you, you are a wonderful witch and a highly valued friend and when I count my blessings, your presence in my life is at the beginning and at the ending of that count.

“My dear, if it is not too much to ask, would you care to have dinner with me tonight? Wilspy will be returned, and we may eat in my suite, or if you would prefer to dine elsewhere, we could go into Hogsmeade or even Apparate into London, whatever your desire might be.

“I look forward to your response and hope for your forgiveness.

“Yours always,

“Albus”

He rolled the parchment and sealed it. The letter was a bit over the top, perhaps, but after what he had said to her that morning, he was not going to calculate and weigh every word, trying to appear more aloof than he felt.

Albus made his second trip to the Owlery that day. He was looking forward to Wilspy’s return. It would be good to be able to have her owl his correspondence for him, or even deliver it, if it were within the castle.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXXIII: His Lady’s Servant, continued

Having written and sent his letter, Albus sat at his desk, feeling more composed than he had all day, and began to write a letter to a parent who was asking about the policy on personal broomsticks. His window was open, and an owl flew in and landed on the desk beside him. Albus recognised it as the little bird he had sent off with his apology and invitation. Minerva had replied quickly. But as Albus retrieved the letter from the owl, his heart sank. It was his own note, the seal not even broken. She had refused his letter. In his fog of disappointment, it didn’t occur to him that this would be unlike Minerva, that she would, at the very least, open the note to see if it contained Hogwarts business even if she didn’t care to hear from him personally. But at that moment, Albus simply castigated himself for believing that a note could substitute for an in-person apology.

He stood and began to pace. Should he go see her right then? If he did, he could issue his invitation to dinner in person. But she might see it as yet one more duty. He could simply apologise, and then see her manner toward him and decide at that point. Or perhaps it would be better if he were to wait to see her until she was no longer as upset with him. If she was still so distressed that she would refuse his owl, it might be best to wait, even though he felt like running to Gryffindor Tower that very moment and begging her forgiveness. Yes, better to wait. Perhaps he would be able to approach her after dinner . . . they could take a walk. He could explain that he had been out-of-sorts and that she had been completely correct in all that she had said. He could even have his letter with him and give it to her at that time.

Albus prepared to spend a tedious afternoon waiting for the dinner hour to arrive.

In Gryffindor Tower, Minerva stretched and yawned. Her headache had returned, and she felt peculiar from having slept too long in the middle of the day. She rose, folded the afghan, and went into her bedroom to retrieve her dressing gown. Returning to the sitting room, she cast a casual glance at the clock on the mantlepiece. Almost three-thirty already? No wonder she felt peculiar – and hungry. Minerva called for Blampa and asked her to bring her tea and sandwiches. She ate two sandwiches, drank her tea, then nibbled a ginger newt.

She felt somewhat better from having eaten, but her headache had only subsided and not completely left her. Another nap appealed to her, but she feared that it might make her feel worse and not better. Still, Minerva wanted to forget her troubles for a while, and decided to take a bath before doing anything else.

An hour later, warm and glowing from her long soak in the tub, during which she endeavoured not to think about Albus, which was very difficult with the tiles of the two of them staring her in the face, Minerva emerged from her bedroom wearing only her dressing gown. No point in dressing, she thought. There was no one there to see her. She had already decided that she wouldn’t go to dinner. She had eaten a late lunch or early tea, after all, and, being honest with herself, she didn’t particularly care to be confronted with Gertrude and Malcolm’s happiness, Hagrid’s attempts at being cheerful despite Wilhelmina’s absence, and Johannes’s effort to appear not to notice that Gertrude had a new wizard in her life. But most of all, she really did not want to see Albus. It was the first time in years that she could remember actually not wanting to see him. But Minerva didn’t know which wizard would greet her, the one whom she loved, or the stranger who had spoken to her that morning.

Minerva had a vague feeling that she should apologise to Albus, but then she remembered what he had said and how he had behaved, and she realised that she had said nothing to him that wasn’t true or justified. If he apologised to her, then she would tell him that she was sorry if she had caused him worry, or if she had somehow hurt his feelings, and admit that perhaps she ought to have phrased her response to him differently, but she wouldn’t apologise for the content of her speech. She was getting very tired of fighting her feelings for Albus while simultaneously trying to divine his every mood and deal with his swings of temper. She had the sense that there was something about Albus that she simply didn’t understand, but she didn’t know what it could be, and she was too tired that afternoon to think about it any more.

Her study had a very broad windowsill, and her desk was positioned right beside it. She popped into her Animagus form and trotted into her study, jumped lightly up onto her desk, stepped over to the windowsill, and curled up in the late afternoon sun for a catnap.

At five o’clock, Albus changed his mind. He couldn’t wait to see her at dinner and attempt to speak to her then. It would be more awkward than necessary. No, he would go to her rooms, apologise, and walk her to dinner. Or, if she seemed amenable, he could even suggest then that they dine alone, walk into Hogsmeade for an evening out.

Apprehensive, but determined, Albus reached Gryffindor Tower and approached the Silent Knight.

“Would you please let Professor McGonagall know that I wish to speak with her,” he said, addressing the portrait.

To his immense surprise, Fidelio stood and growled at him, baring his teeth, and the Knight drew his sword.

“You shall not pass! I protect my lady!” the Knight cried, brandishing his sword.

“I am the Headmaster. I insist you inform the Professor that I am here to see her,” Albus said, fingering his wand in his right-hand pocket.

“I shall not! You are a powerful warrior and a mighty magician, and alack! I am but a humble knight, servant to my mistress, trapped within this portrait, and possessing but little power and less freedom. I cannot stand against you, but I shall not let you pass. You may smite me, you may destroy me, and you will defeat me in the end, but you will not pass without first overcoming me. My life for my lady!” He lifted his shield for the first time, and Albus saw that it was broken, but there was a serval, rampant, emblazoned upon it. “Have at me!”

Taken aback, Albus stood and considered his options. He could use his Headmaster’s password and enter – he had the sense that even were he to try Minerva’s own password, the Knight would attempt to resist allowing him entry, and Albus did not know what the result of that would be. It seemed that Minerva must have given her portrait orders that he not be admitted, or even announced, and her bellicose guardian had interpreted it quite literally.

“I ask again that you announce me to your mistress,” Albus said, hoping that another request, courteously made, would override whatever peculiar characteristic of this painting’s charms that had driven it to interpret Minerva’s request for privacy as a complete bar to visitors. There did seem to be something slightly wrong with the portrait. After he had dealt with more pressing issues with Minerva, he would ask her to realign the portrait network in Gryffindor Tower.

“Back, knave, or have at me! I have seen you toy with my mistress and I have seen your churlish behaviour! I will defend my lady’s honour with my very life. I have pledged it. I shall not, I will not, allow you to pass. You must defeat me first!” The Knight raised his sword, and it gleamed in the sunlight, coming from who-knew-where. Fidelio bared his teeth, his short ears laid back upon his head, and he snarled menacingly. If the two were real, flesh-and-blood combatants, Albus would not have wanted to face them, not as a Muggle, at any rate.

He shook his head and turned away, perplexed and disappointed. He could hang about outside her door, he supposed, and wait for Minerva to emerge, but that would be undignified. Besides, he could hear the Knight’s taunts and the hound’s growls, and he didn’t fancy listening to them until Minerva came out to go to dinner. Minerva must have given the Knight instructions to bar him specifically. He had deserved it, Albus supposed, sighing. He would simply have to wait and try to speak with her at dinner. Using his Headmaster’s password might have peculiar consequences on the Knight, and although the portrait’s behaviour was unusual, he did not want to damage it, particularly not in order to essentially break-and-enter into a staff member’s rooms. If he believed Minerva were ill, that would be a different matter entirely.

Albus headed downstairs to the staff room to await dinner. He had no appetite, but he did want to see Minerva.

Dinner came and went, but Minerva did not appear. Albus scarcely ate. Finally, when dessert arrived and she still wasn’t there, Albus turned and asked Malcolm if he had seen his sister that day.

“No, but I haven’t looked for her, either. I thought perhaps she hadn’t returned to the school yet, since she wasn’t at lunch,” Malcolm said. “She didn’t say anything to me about her plans, but then, I didn’t ask.”

Albus didn’t want to question each person at the table about whether they had seen Minerva, so he poured custard over his sponge and contented himself with pretending to eat it. But when Hagrid left the table, and Minerva still hadn’t arrived, he knew that she was not coming, not even late. He pushed away from the table, acknowledged the others as they wished him a good evening, and went back to his office. He paced there for a while until the portraits’ queries regarding whether they could assist him wore on his nerves, then he went up to his sitting room and paced. Fawkes appeared and crooned a bit and listened, apparently sympathetically, as Albus talked, going over again what he had and hadn’t done correctly, and what he might do now, and whether any of it really mattered, or whether he was simply becoming the barmy old codger he had taken to calling himself, and whether he might truly be entering a decline into dotage.

Much to his displeasure, in the midst of his ramblings, Phineas Nigellus entered the small landscape over the fireplace in the sitting room.

“Your Deputy is downstairs with her . . . friend,” he said, leaving immediately upon making the announcement.

“Lovely,” Albus said unhappily, looking over at Fawkes. “Would you stay tonight, Fawkes? I’d like to see you here when I’m through with them.”

Fawkes trilled lowly, and Albus smiled and stroked the bird’s throat before leaving to see what Gertrude might want, trying not to wish that it had been Minerva come to see him, instead. But Minerva would have just come up, and not sent the portrait instead.

It turned out that Gertrude was going to be leaving the castle again and she wasn’t sure when she would be back, though it would be only a few days, she thought, but as they would be travelling, she might not be easily reached, even by owl. Albus didn’t even bother to ask where they were going. He thanked Gertrude for letting him know, reminded Malcolm that he needed his answer about the Defence position by the end of the week, and headed back up the stairs to his rooms as the two were still letting themselves out of the office.

Fawkes was, indeed, still there when Albus returned.

“Well, old friend, I suppose I should stop contemplating myself and my own foolish concerns. Perhaps if I were to do that, I would not continue to behave in such a way as to cause others pain and myself embarrassment,” Albus said, stroking the phoenix’s fiery red head. “You know, I believe that Gertrude may have found someone special for her. Isn’t that a good thing? Yes, it is, I know it. And if I can be happy for her, as I am, then if Minerva has found someone special for herself, I can be happy for her, as well, can’t I? Yes, of course I can. Although I don’t know that she has. And that is my own fault. Ah, but it is, Fawkes! I should have allowed her to speak and I should have behaved as a friend. I do not know what it is that is keeping me from behaving sensibly with Minerva, but I have to do something about it. Yes, I do. And I can, too. Of all the things I have done in my life, that surely cannot be difficult. A good start would be to begin behaving as her friend. That really ought not be difficult. We are, after all, friends. Yes, I am glad you agree with me,” Albus said, chuckling. “You know, it is most satisfying to talk to you, Fawkes, even when we aren’t holding a real conversation. Everything seems to make complete sense when I speak to you. You know, I was out in my Animagus form last week, and you were not here to fly with. Where have you been keeping yourself, anyway? Well, you are at your peak now, I suppose you should enjoy it.”

Fawkes trilled in response, and Albus smiled. He let out a deep sigh and said, “I suppose it would be wise to go to bed and to sleep now. I will surely be less prone to behaving like a . . . a . . . a ‘knave,’ as Minerva’s door warden put it, if I have a good night’s rest. I would be most pleased if you were here in the morning, Fawkes. I do believe that seeing you when I waken would do me as much good as a full night’s sleep. Of course, seeing Minerva upon waking would be even better, but I’m sure you understand that.”

Albus gave the phoenix one last gentle caress and took himself off to bed. As he fell asleep, Fawkes, perched on the head of the bed, sang him a soft, sweet lullaby.

---

Next: “Questionable Intentions” 14 August 1957.

Just a quick FYI, unless I indicate in advance that I am going to update two days in a row, I almost never do that. I generally wait minimally two days, preferably three, before updating. So those of you who are compelled to look for updates, wait until after tomorrow; it will be at least Wednesday before I update, possibly Thursday. End of your Public Service Announcement! ;D

[Hogwarts Duo]

Oh dear, what a sad chapter for lots of reasons.

I felt so bad for Albus when he saw Minerva returning from her evening out with Quin and then he jumped to the wrong conclusion that they’d spent the night together romantically. That broke my heart and no doubt Albus’ heart too. And then for him to jump down Minerva’s throat for staying out when he lacked all the facts…tsk tsk tsk. Jealousy will cause us to do silly things sometimes and it seems the most brilliant wizard of the day is no exception.

I am not surprised that Minerva spoke harshly towards Albus when he confronted her about her evening out. I dare say that was very much in keeping with her character and something I could certainly see her doing, regardless of the person asking the questions. I’m glad she pointed out that he left the castle without informing her of his whereabouts. Maybe that will get him to start thinking of things in a different light, though I highly doubt it. I especially liked that Minerva took out her letters and read through some of them. Too bad Albus doesn’t do that from time to time.

He felt as though Minerva had lied to him when she had said there was nothing between the two.

Obviously I can’t speak for Albus, but I think this is part of the whole problem between the two of them in this chapter. Albus is jealous of what he thinks Quin has with Minerva, he’s struggling with his own feelings both about himself and Minerva, and then on top of it all, he believes he’s been lied to by the person who matters most to him. It in no way excuses his behaviour but it does give his reactions credence since he assumes he’s the injured party in this situation.

Once again, Albus wrote a lovely letter to Minerva and melted my heart. I hate it that she never opened it and Albus’ heart was shattered. Now he believes Minerva is unforgiving and that stupid Silent Knight wouldn’t even announce his presence. I really admire Albus for having the willpower and the presence of mind not to hex the bloody portrait and simply enter using his own password. I can only hope that once this mess is sorted, Minerva and Albus have strong words with the Knight or perhaps they move him to the dungeons of Hogwarts! Can ya tell I’m just a wee bit irritated at his idea of “protecting the lady”??

At least Albus has a true friend in all of this. Fawkes is really a lovely friend to Albus and right about now he needs one. Poor guy is just getting hammered in all directions, even by himself. Sniff sniff.

Looking forward to more...on Wednesday or Thursday !!!

TTFN,
The GLM

[muriel2532]

Watching Albus and Minerva is really frustrating sometimes ... of course Albus had to draw the wrong conclusions and of course Minerva did not even consider the possibility that Albus might be jealous.

My favourite part of the whole chapter was Albus' note to Minerva:

" ... and when I count my blessings, your presence in my life is at the beginning and at the ending of that count."

It's one of the sweetest declarations of love (even if Albus didn't intend it as such) I have read in a long time. If only Minerva could have read this line, too ...

"Trudie" being Gertrude's husband's pet name for her and Malcolm being the only other person allowed to use it - I love that one, too!

I endeavour not to check for updates before Wednesday, but I think the pull will be too strong and I will check again impatiently tomorrow!

[minerva62]

Two great updates again (I didn't comment on the last one)

I got the feeling that Quin may be in danger to fall in love with Minerva (just a bit), considering his behavior at their goodbye at the Ministry...

Even if he made things more complicated - I like your idea of the Silent Knight protecting 'his lady' from any disturbance...that was really entertaining... ;D

And the nazar...maybe Minerva reacts so composed to the thought of Albus and Gertie having been together because she keeps the nazar near her (at her bedside table)...this thought just occurred to me when I read that the nazar keeps envy and jealousy at bay...

Anyway...looking forward to Wednesday...it is always such a pleasure to see that you have updated...the anticipation to read your updates has become an addiction, I'm afraid...

[Orion's Guard]

Whoo hoo for Minerva. Ok, so barricading yourself in your room isn't really the best course of action, but I'm glad it's giving Albus a chance to reflect on what he said and what he needs to do. Now he just needs to come to the place where he believes it's ok to be harboring these feelings for her.

I'd also like to see Minerva recognize his jealousy. I know it's hard to see something so unimaginable to her when she's in a fit, but looking back later, she's foolish if she doesn't at least guess that it may be one of the reasons (and gee, neither one of them have been foolish at all through all of this...)

[esoterica1693]

Well, we're off to the races, it seems. Whoa-ho-ho.

BAD ALBUS! No biscuit! Or pudding....

Minerva gets an Exceeds Expectations for telling Albus off--he richly deserved it.

Albus, did it ever occur to you you could have told the Silent Knight you were there to apologize and make amends, and apologized to *him too*, for insulting his lady, while you were at it? Might have gotten you somewhere. Maybe not, but couldn't have hurt. Not to mention realizing that she wouldn't out and out refuse to even read a parchment from her boss.

ETA: I think Albus should have followed his instincts and run to Gryffindor the moment the letter was returned. I don't know that the Knight would have let him pass, but surely showing some cajones and great energy to mend the breach ASAP would have been a good thing, relationship-karma wise <g>.

The contrast between how he manages to be genuinely happy for Trudie and insanely (literally) jealous of Minerva's situation is well-drawn. And it's awful that he thinks she'd lie to him, when she gives absolutely no evidence of ever lying to him, not ever, and looked so happy to see him until he verbally ran over her.

If the Knight won't let you in by the door, try flying around to the window as a phoenix, you dolt <g>, and pounding at it til she lets you in just to be rid of the din. <g>

The letter he wrote was incredibly sweet. The nazar evidently does have more power than Albus grants it. It seems to work for both of them--it eliminated the pangs of jealousy Minerva was having over Maria. I do think he ought to transform and try delivering it to her that way. Maybe she'd at least open the window thinking him to be Fawkes--do they look nearly identical?

Of course Quin's remark at their parting is very very interesting, hmm, yes.....

Albus does need a confidante who can lay it out to him wizard-to-wizard (or witch-to-wizard, in Trudie's case). Fawkes is very helpful but his communication style is, shall we say, oblique? <g>

Hopefully once Wilspy gets back she can be of some help to her exceedingly foolish Master Albus.

[esoterica1693]

And the serval rampant is a nice touch. Rather appropriate for Minerva's door warden's crest. Meow!/Roar!

[Merriam]

Oh, goodness . . . . Albus must always reach the wrong conclusion first. But he actually responded much better than I had anticipated. I thought he would be so mad with envy that he would do something imminently impulsive and stupid. But some rational part in his brain appears to still be functional; at least he considered the possibility that Minerva might not have slept with Quin.

As for Minerva . . . I know she is hurt, but it would be really nice if she would accept the dinner invitation. It would certainly be an interesting evening, uncomfortable though it may be.

At some point I remember you saying that we should have the most hope when we feel ready to hurl the AK at you. Well, things are definitely taking a turn for the worst (I can only imagine the depths to which these two must fall in order to reveal their feelings) . . . am I crazy if I decide to be hopeful, even a little?

Thanks for the update! I will try to restrain myself until Wednesday. No promises, however: I will do almost anything to escape the evils of memorizing the finer points of the Civil War!

[MMADfan]

esoterica1693 said:

And the serval rampant is a nice touch. Rather appropriate for Minerva's door warden's crest. Meow!/Roar!

Glad you noticed that. It goes with the Silent Knight's backstory . . . and his service . . .

I'm tryin' to be kinda quiet between now and the posting of the next, um, how many? (runs off to count) four chapters. Five, really, if you count the one called, um, never mind --

But I can say that they will be uploaded at very regular intervals! ;D Next one on Wednesday morning, EST. See ya then!

(I am absolutely LOVING the comments and speculations, though! *grin*)

[esoterica1693]

merriam said:

I will do almost anything to escape the evils of memorizing the finer points of the Civil War!

Shame on you if that's the American Civil War you're speaking of! <g> One of my great interests and hobbies. I think you deserve a detention for that remark! <vbg>

Of course if you've got Prof. Binns or his twin teaching you, you're forgiven....

[sevherfan]

The one called "Wild Crazy Make Up Sex"?

Five chapters, huh? That's rough. If they prelude the make up sex in update 5 with a kiss in update 4, I might be able to come out of this with two fingernails left. Work has already made me bite off the other 8 this week. Have a heart, MMADfan...*

(*If at all possible: blown by Albus on the underside of Minerva's breast.)

[MMADfan]

merriam said:

As for Minerva . . . I know she is hurt, but it would be really nice if she would accept the dinner invitation. It would certainly be an interesting evening, uncomfortable though it may be.

I think you must have missed the third section of the chapter -- this chapter had to be split into three parts because it was so long.