Resolving a Misunderstanding (complete)

[Merriam]

I did miss the third part! Now it all makes sense . . . .

[mystique]

Dear God, that last installment was frustrating to read. Anyway, just thought I'd sign in and make my second appearance on this board. Just because I don't comment, doesn't mean I don't absolutely love your story. I makes my morning every time I have seen that you updated.
Natalie

[MMADfan]

Note: Posted in two parts because of length.

CXXXIV: Questionable Intentions

Minerva woke very early Wednesday morning. The sun was just up, and her bedroom was too cold. She fumbled for her wand and closed the window, shivering and waving her wand to pull the afghan up to cover her, as well. She invoked the blanket’s charm, and soon was feeling warm and cozy. Unfortunately, as cozy as she felt, she was now wide awake. Contemplating her options, she decided on a modicum of decadence. Hoping that Blampa wasn’t sleeping, she called her house-elf.

Blampa appeared, seeming cheerful and quite well-awake, and she was thrilled with the idea of serving her Professor breakfast in bed. Fifteen minutes later, after a quick trip to the loo and a return to her bed to doze a bit, Minerva was presented with a tray filled with all of her breakfast favourites, a small, steaming bowl of porridge with plumped-up sultanas, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, a fried egg with whole meal toast, and a large pot of tea.

“Thank you, Blampa! You spoil me,” Minerva said, feeling better for just looking at the breakfast. She had had biscuits and tea for her supper the night before, eliciting Blampa’s clucking tongue and sotto voce remarks about the inadequacy of her meal, and Minerva was now very hungry, indeed.

Blampa smiled and bounced, glowing from Minerva’s praise, and promising that if Minerva wanted anything in addition, she could have it. But Minerva thought this breakfast would be more than adequate, and so Blampa popped away, happy to have been of service.

After breakfast, Minerva dressed, did her hair, and pulled her lightweight tartan cloak on over everything, then set off for her morning walk. She had expected to be the only one up, so she was startled to find Johannes just leaving the castle as she was.

“Good morning, Minerva!” he greeted her cheerfully.

“Good morning! How are you?” Minerva asked as they stepped outside together.

“I am well. I did not know you were in the castle,” Johannes remarked.

“Yes, I am here for the time being,” Minerva answered, not wanting to get into the details of her comings and goings. “And you?”

“I leave this afternoon for Cardiff. My friend Jack and his mother make a holiday there every year, and they have invited me. I did not know if I would go, but . . .” Johannes shrugged.

“You are up very early. I didn’t think I would see anyone.”

“I have work to do in the gardens before I leave, and I enjoy working in the early morning. There is something very renewing in the air,” he said.

Minerva nodded. “Yes, there is. It is invigorating, certainly. And I do like to take my walks early when I can.”

“Your brother has been spending a lot of time here,” Johannes observed as they approached the gardens.

“Yes,” Minerva said, unsure what else to say.

“He is the friend to Gertie . . .” Johannes said hesitantly.

“It appears so.”

Johannes nodded, and they walked in silence to the outbuilding in which the garden tools were stored.

“I hope you have a good morning, Johannes, and if I don’t see you before you leave, I hope you enjoy your holiday in Cardiff.”

Johannes smiled. “I will, I am certain. Enjoy your walk, Minerva!”

Minerva walked down to the Forest, walking along the edge just inside the line of trees, until she reached the stone wall, then she turned and, this time walking a bit further into the Forest, she started back to the castle. She considered changing into her tabby form, but remembering Albus’s concerns about her tarrying in the Forest in her Animagus form, she refrained until she reached the edge of the Forest again, emerging on the far side of the gardens, several hundred yards from where she had originally entered. She popped into her feline form and began picking her way across the dew-covered ground, then breaking into a sprint and racing toward the castle. Her small heart pounding, Minerva slowed as she approached the back of the castle, then trotted around to the front doors and returned to her ordinary form.

Feeling refreshed, though slightly winded, Minerva pulled open the door. Since she and Johannes had already left the castle, they were unbolted. Rather than return to her rooms, she went to the library, using her password to enter. It was eerie in a peculiarly comfortable way to be in the large, silent space, filled with books, dust motes visible floating through the air in front of the large windows. She went to the Transfiguration section and pulled out the few books that she needed to use but didn’t own herself.

Two hours later, Minerva headed back to her rooms. She had taken notes using the parchment and quill that she had borrowed from the librarian’s desk, but brought one of the books back with her. She wanted to copy a few of the pages, and she had some specially Charmed parchment in her study that would hold the copies indefinitely. She saw no one and had the peculiar and uneasy sense that she was entirely alone in the castle, which was, of course, foolishness. Even if Johannes were still in the gardens, he wouldn’t be leaving until the afternoon. She presumed that at the very least, Gertrude was present at the school, as Albus wouldn’t leave without passing the wards to someone, and as Johannes was resuming his holiday that afternoon, one or the other of them would have to stay. Of course, Albus could pass the wards to her. But she hadn’t seen him since the previous morning, and although he could pass them to her without being in her presence, she doubted that he would do so without informing her first, unless there were an emergency, and she hadn’t felt anything that indicated she now held the wards. So either Albus or Gertrude had to be at the school.

Thinking of Albus, though, depressed Minerva. He hadn’t come by to see her at all the previous day after meeting her at her door. But he had been angry with her, and she with him. She wasn’t angry with him any longer, just vaguely upset that he had scolded her as he had. Minerva sighed deeply. She should apologise, she decided. Again, not for what she said, but for the fact that she had not considered the possibility that she would not be returning to the castle. She was simply unused to having to think of those things. She had lived alone in London, never having to let anyone know of her comings and goings, and she could always Floo to her flat, no matter what the hour. But Hogwarts had no open Floo connections to the outside. The Headmaster could open one for his own use, or for someone else, but what was she to have done? Floo-called and asked the portraits to wake the Headmaster and tell him that she wanted to Floo back to the castle? That would be ridiculous. Albus wasn’t a porter, at the beck-and-call of any staff who wanted to Floo back to the castle in the middle of the night – or any other time of day. Perhaps she should have Floo-called, anyway, and left a message with the headmaster portraits. But that sounded just as absurd. She could see herself, head in Quin’s Floo, shouting to get the portraits’ attention, and trying to get them to realise that she was speaking to them and wanted to leave a message for the Headmaster.

No, she had done what had been reasonable under the circumstances. The only other alternative would have been to Floo to the Hog’s Head and keep Quin from his rest as he walked her up to the gates and then hurried back to the seedy pub to Floo home before it closed at two – or he would have had to have spent the night at the castle, which would have been awkward for him, to say the least, particularly given that he had early business at the Ministry. And she would have had to have found a room for him. Minerva shook her head. She simply would have to tell Albus that if she was out in the evenings during the summer, she might not return until the next day. It would be different during the school year, of course. She would plan her departure – and her alcohol consumption – so that even if she did have an evening off and spent it with friends, or with Melina and Brennan or other family, she could return to the castle that night. Minerva didn’t anticipate being able to have many evenings out, however, not as Head of Gryffindor.

Albus had been unreasonable, Minerva concluded once again. He had treated her differently from any other staff member, and it was unfair of him. She entered her rooms and put her tartan cloak away in the wardrobe, then returned to her sitting room. Having suitably depressed herself with thoughts of Albus and his irrational behaviour, she no longer had any desire to make the copies from the book she had brought back from the library. Instead, she sat down on the sofa and picked up the next letter in the correspondence from Albus. This one was from not long after the war had ended. It was brief, asking how she was, telling her that he would be in London on the coming Friday and would like to take her to dinner. She couldn’t remember whether she had accepted on that specific occasion, although it was likely. It was rare that he would ask her to lunch or dinner and she would not accept, and then, only when she had other plans. And often, he wouldn’t write in advance, but would appear in the Department and ask for her. Occasionally, he would have to wait a short time while she finished some work, but when she had, he would take her to lunch or for a cup of tea. Sometimes, he would wait longer than they were able to spend together, just having a quick cup of tea in the Ministry canteen because she was particularly busy that day.

Minerva read through more letters, tears occasionally filling her eyes as she read some particularly sweet phrase or was reminded of an occasion when they had seen each other and they had had an especially nice time. She had so hoped that when she came to teach at Hogwarts, their time together would be even better and that they would become closer, but each time that she believed that was happening, something else would occur, and their relationship would become strained again. At least this time, she had not left him with any doubt about her feelings. She had promised Albus that she would tell him when he upset her, and she certainly had done that. But he hadn’t apologised. Of course, she hadn’t really given Albus the opportunity to apologise. She had been too upset, and had needed to get into her rooms, away from him.

Minerva dropped the letters on the floor and began to weep in earnest. She Summoned the afghan from her bedroom and held it to her face, wishing that it were Albus himself, wishing that she could turn back time, wishing she had never gone to Quin’s for dinner, for if she hadn’t, there would have been no opportunity to disappoint Albus and to be disappointed by him. It didn’t seem fair. It wasn’t fair.

She curled up on the sofa and tried to blank her mind and not think or feel. It was almost lunchtime. Minerva truly did not want to see anyone. She would just go down late, leave enough time to eat something, then excuse herself. Perhaps she would go back to the house that afternoon. Her mother had said to come at any time. She would just let Albus know that she would be gone and would return at the same time as the rest of the staff during the last week of August. Melina’s wedding was the twenty-third. He had wanted to go with her. She could write him a letter to make arrangements and allow him the opportunity to change his plans, if he wished. Minerva didn’t want Albus to feel obligated to accompany her if he preferred not to.

-/-/-/-

Wilspy still wasn’t returned from Aberforth’s, and Hwouly gave Albus his breakfast, which he ate little of. He had assumed that Wilspy would return Tuesday evening, but evidently, she was staying with his brother until the first full day that he had originally been scheduled to return from his holiday. She would no doubt be back sometime that day. It was just as well, Albus thought. She was always able to tell when he was distressed about something, and always insisting he eat his full breakfast on those days, whether he was hungry or not. Hwouly simply delivered the meal and left.

Albus spent a dull morning, barely cheered by Fawkes’s song. He considered taking a flight with Fawkes, but he couldn’t bring any enthusiasm to the idea. He remembered when he had transformed into his phoenix form when he was with Minerva. She had stroked his plumage and kissed his head and called him beautiful. He slumped lower in his chair. He had forgotten the lovely lunch they had shared in the rose garden and her encouragement to him that he transform into his Animagus form, those events overshadowed by the news of Pretnick’s death.

He did go to the roof of his Tower, though, and watch as Fawkes swooped and soared. He could see someone working down in the gardens near the greenhouses. Although he couldn’t see him well, he assumed that it was Johannes. Johannes had sent him a note the night before, informing the Headmaster that he would be taking a few days’ holiday with his friend. Johannes had been undecided before – Albus had actually believed that he had decided against it – but his mood had been somewhat subdued since he had returned to the castle, and he must have been trying to decide whether he should go or not.

Albus thought that Johannes had had a little bit of a crush on Gertrude at one time, but he seemed to have recovered from that. He had said once, several years ago, half in jest, that no wizard could compete for a witch’s attentions if Albus Dumbledore were near. As Gertrude had recently refused his courtship, Albus had found it difficult to respond lightly to the comment, but he had managed to smile and make a joke of it. Of course, if Johannes knew the truth of the matter, that no witch would really want him for himself, but would only want the wizard they thought he was, the “hero,” the wizard who could bring them social standing of some kind, Johannes would no doubt feel sorry for him. Albus had believed that those days were over once the first excitement after his defeat of Grindelwald had faded, but his experience with Valerianna had taught him differently. But since Valerianna, there hadn’t even been any social-climbing witches trying to lure him into a relationship. There had been a few old friends whom he had escorted casually to various Ministry functions, but one of them was Philomena Yaxley, who was firmly married and they had accompanied one another only when her husband was unavailable, and the other few . . . they were uninterested in any kind of relationship outside of attendance at whatever event he had escorted them to. Which was just as well, given their personalities – they were fine witches to spend a few hours with in a structured setting, but Albus had no interest in them beyond that, either.

Just before noon, Albus went down for lunch. He needed to see Minerva, try to make things right with her. He could understand if she remained angry with him, if she cooled their friendship, spent more time with other friends. It was to be expected, anyway. It was what he had wanted, after all . . . what he had thought he wanted, to have her spend her time with others, away from the castle. Now, though, he was conflicted. What he wanted most was to have Minerva there with him, but he could not be selfish about it. He knew where selfishness could lead, and it wasn’t anywhere good. His selfishness when he was a youth had led to Dervilia’s death. He had rationalised his actions to himself, justified them, and never even considered that he was being selfish and neglectful of Dervilia. Yet he had been, pursuing his apprenticeship with no true regard to Dervilia’s well-being. Albus never wanted to return to that self-centred pursuit of his own goals, his own desires, with no regard for others. It had been one reason he had chosen to live a retired life for so many years.

The situation with Minerva was even worse than that with Dervilia; not only did he have no claim on her time – outside of that which she owed to the school, not to him personally – but he also hadn’t even the veneer of a legitimate excuse for his selfishness. He had at least had his apprenticeship before, certainly a worthy pursuit. But this selfishness, this was for Minerva, his desire for her, not for the sake of learning, or for magical power, or any of the other motivators that had driven him in the past. This was worse. And he would remind himself of that and keep himself from destroying Minerva with his selfishness. Perhaps his selfishness would not lead to her death, as it had with Dervilia, but it could injure her sense of her professional worth and personal value. Minerva had always been independent, even as a child. He could not make her feel as though she were a mere chattel, to be ordered about, every moment structured.

Albus sighed. At least she possessed sufficient independence and strength of character to have told him how wrong he was, but he could tell that she had been upset. If he continued to treat her in that way, especially when she was so desirous of his respect, Minerva might attempt to please him, to avert his displeasure, and to subjugate herself to his whims. And he could not have that. He would be sure to tell her that he had been wrong, and if he were ever that wrong in the future, she must continue to tell him, she must not permit him to believe he was right when he clearly was not.

Knowing Minerva, if he had approached her in a different manner the previous morning, she would have been happy to agree to let him know in the future if there were a possibility she would be away from the castle overnight. But even that was none of his business, not under these circumstances. He would make sure that she knew that he was aware that her personal life was none of his business and that she did not require his permission for anything.

Hagrid and Johannes arrived together, and lunch appeared on the table. Albus picked at his food and waited for Minerva. At ten after twelve, he began to grow nervous. Perhaps she wasn’t well. No one had seen her since yesterday morning, after all. He hadn’t, at any rate, and neither had her brother the day before. At quarter past, he ceased pushing his food about and excused himself. As he left the staff room, he heard Johannes remind him that he would be away on holiday, but Albus hurried away and up the stairs, not answering. Albus wished he could simply Floo to Minerva’s rooms, but he couldn’t very well appear like that, with no warning, as though he had some right to barge in whenever he felt like it. He was worried that she was unwell, but there was no cause for alarm just yet. Primarily, he wanted to see her to talk to her and to apologise.

The trip to Gryffindor Tower had never seemed so long, but he finally found himself in front of the Silent Knight again. This time, he was determined that if the Knight didn’t allow him entrance, he would use his Headmaster’s password and open the door himself.

The Knight loosened his sword in its sheath, but did not draw it fully.

“I have come to see Professor McGonagall. Please let her know that I am here,” Albus requested.

The Knight raised his visor, and Albus could see startling blue eyes staring from a pale face. “What business have you with my mistress?” the Knight asked.

“I wish to assure myself of her health and well-being . . . and to apologise for my unfortunate words to her,” Albus replied, feeling somewhat put out and more than a little foolish for explaining his errand to a painting.

The Knight lowered his visor again. “It is a worthy purpose.” He looked down at the hound, which was eying Albus warily. “Fidelio, fetch our mistress.” Addressing Albus again, he said, “Pardon that I do not announce you myself, but I am my lady’s servant,” as though that explained all.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXXIV: Questionable Intentions, continued

Albus could hear the dog barking in the sitting room, and a moment later, the door was open, and he saw Minerva standing across the room, framed by the doorway to her study, the light behind her throwing her into silhouette, and he could not see her face.

“Albus?” her voice was soft.

“I . . . I came to see you.” Well, that was stating the obvious, he thought. “That is, you weren’t at lunch, and I was worried.”

“I was just on my way,” Minerva said, stepping toward him, out of the light that had blinded him.

She looked pale to him, and there was a stillness about her and in her magic, as though her life’s energies had been dampened.

“May I come in?” Albus asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Minerva replied, looking around her. “I am sorry for the untidy state of my rooms. I was . . . tired.”

She waved her wand and the papers strewn on the floor by the sofa gathered themselves together and deposited themselves in a small wooden chest that sat on her coffee table. Albus thought they appeared to be letters, and some, at least, seemed to be ones he had sent Minerva, but she waved her wand again, and the lid settled on top of the box, removing them from his view.

He stepped further into the room. “I was concerned,” he repeated. “That is to say, you weren’t at meals yesterday, and again . . . lunch. Not that you need to attend meals if you do not wish to.”

“I was coming down for lunch,” Minerva said, still standing in the middle of the room. “Although now, I wonder whether I might not be too late.”

“Johannes and Hagrid were still eating when I left,” Albus said, looking at her with concern. “Are you well?” He was worried. She seemed oddly drained.

“Yes, of course. I am fine. You need not be concerned for my welfare,” she said somewhat stiffly.

Albus swallowed. “I could not help myself, particularly after my abominable behaviour yesterday morning. I had no right whatsoever to speak to you as I did, and I cannot adequately express . . .” Breathing seemed difficult at that moment. “I cannot adequately express how very sorry I am.”

Minerva looked at him silently, then gestured to the sofa. “Please, have a seat, if you would like.”

Albus nodded, and Minerva waved her wand to close the door behind him. Albus sat at one end of the couch, and she at the other.

“I wanted to apologise . . . I tried . . . I wanted to apologise yesterday,” Albus began. He could not help himself. “Why did you refuse my owl?” He sounded pathetic to his own ears.

“Your owl?” asked Minerva, genuinely puzzled. She shook her head. “I didn’t refuse your owl, or anyone else’s.”

“But it returned to me, my letter to you unopened and unread,” Albus said.

“I don’t understand . . . when did you send it?”

“Yesterday afternoon, after you were not at lunch.”

“I fell asleep, I napped and slept heavily after taking a Headache Potion, then later, I took a bath. It could have tried to get my attention either when I was asleep or in the bath. My windows were all closed up. I didn’t notice any owl.”

Albus let out a sigh of relief, and he could feel himself relax, much of his tension draining from him. “I wanted to apologise then. And when I thought you had refused my letter, I came down to apologise in person, but your portrait would not admit me or even announce me.”

“Really?” Minerva asked, surprised. “When was this?”

“Before dinner, about five o’clock, I would say.”

“I may have still been in the bath then . . . but you say he would not announce you at all?”

Albus shook his head. “I thought . . . it seemed he had orders not to allow me entry and he took exception to my presence.”

“Really? I did tell him I didn’t want to be disturbed, that I wanted to be alone, but that was in the morning.” Minerva shrugged. “He must have taken my request very literally.”

Albus nodded. He didn’t want to tell her that the Knight had drawn his sword against him, that he had been chased off by a mere portrait; it seemed ridiculous now.

“I am sorry, though, Minerva, for everything that I said and for the way that I said it. There was nothing in what you said to me that was invalid. And you have every right to leave the castle and to do as you wish with your time, and I have no call to place any restrictions on you, either as Headmaster or as your friend. Especially not as your friend. I will understand if you find it difficult to forgive me, particularly as this is not the first occasion on which I have had to apologise for truly poor behaviour toward you. But I do beg your forgiveness.”

Tears brimming in her eyes, Minerva reached out and placed a hand on his. “Do not. Of course I forgive you. I . . . I do not understand why you said what you did, but of course I forgive you.” She blinked, and a few tears trickled down her cheeks. Albus reached out and wiped them away with his fingertips and a slight nonverbal spell.

“I said those things because I am a fool, Minerva. And I hadn’t slept well, and I had wondered where you were, although I had no cause to wonder, nor to worry. It was purely selfish of me. And I will endeavour not to be so selfish in the future. But if I am, I expect you to continue to tell me when I am being selfish and wrong. This may sound insincere after my words of yesterday, but I prize your friendship, and I prize your independence, and I do not want to lose the first nor for you to lose the second.”

“I was so happy to be back in the castle, and to see you . . . and, to be honest, I was distressed that evening before when we parted,” Minerva admitted. “It seemed as though you were belittling the precise thing which you had earlier encouraged me to do – to go out and make the most of my free time this summer. I had waited for you all afternoon, Albus, not even going to the library, thinking that you would come by to see me. Then I realised that I had only imagined that you had promised to visit, but that you hadn’t definitely said that you would. And when you did finally come to see me, and I was on my way out – and I had told Gertrude I would be gone from the castle, since she was here and acting in your stead – I was very disappointed because I had wanted to see you, but it seemed to me that you hadn’t really wanted to see me, and as though the invitation to dinner was an afterthought. Indeed, you described it as a whim. I felt foolish for placing so much value on our time together when you seemed to place so little on it, especially when you said what you did about not expecting me to cancel my plans.”

“I did not want to seem grasping . . .” Albus said, feeling as though this half-truth was an entire lie. He swallowed, then continued, “I was disappointed, myself. I did not want to seem so to you, and that’s why I said what I did.”

“I don’t understand it,” Minerva said, confused. “Why wouldn’t you want me to know you were disappointed?” She had told him that she wished that he had asked earlier; that should have indicated to him that she was disappointed, even if nothing else had.

Albus shook his head, smiling slightly. “I cannot hold you here, Minerva, despite my words of yesterday morning, and I do not wish to. I don’t want to deprive you of those things and people that make you happy.”

“But expressing disappointment would not have deprived me of anything,” Minerva said. “We could have taken the opportunity to make other plans, at least.”

“I am sorry, my dear. Did you enjoy your evening out? You seemed happy yesterday when I saw you.”

“Yes, despite being unhappy when I left the castle, I tried to enjoy my evening, and, in fact, I did. We lost track of time, Albus. It got late. Quin did offer to Floo to the Hog’s Head with me and walk me up to the castle, but it was already one o’clock, and he had work in the morning. That seemed selfish to me. I am sure he was already up later than he normally would be on a Monday night without having to take the time to see me home. But he didn’t want me to Floo on my own.”

“You needn’t explain any of this,” Albus said, “In fact, it occurred to me that you would Floo to the Hog’s Head, and it worried me slightly.”

“Oh, Albus, you needn’t worry about me! Even if I had Flooed on my own, I am sure I would be fine. Although I wouldn’t have wanted to Apparate, I was certainly fit enough to make it home on my own without trouble.”

“Perhaps . . . but Quin was right to insist you stay. And I am sorry if it seemed I was belittling your enjoying your holiday. You should enjoy yourself and see your friends whenever you like. I mean that. Feel free to leave as you wish, my dear. And I do value our time together. I was disappointed that you were unavailable for dinner, as I said. But what is more important to me is that you are happy.”

“Being with you makes me happy, Albus. Don’t you see that? Can’t you? Why do you think . . .” Minerva’s breath hitched, and she looked away.

Albus put his hand on her arm. “What is it, Minerva?” he asked softly.

“Why do you think it has meant so much to me, spending time with you this summer, having you tell me so much about yourself? Because you are important to me, Albus, and being with you, being your friend . . . it is what matters,” Minerva said softly. “And sometimes, it seems you feel the same, but other times, it’s as though . . . as though I don’t matter at all.”

“Oh, Minerva,” Albus breathed. He rubbed her arm and moved closer. “Of course you matter. If you had received my letter . . . I told you that when I count my blessings, your presence in my life is always at the beginning and the ending of that count. You matter. You matter to me, in my life, and as your own person.”

Minerva blinked back tears. “You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that, Albus.”

Albus touched her face. “Oh, my dear Minerva, don’t cry, please. Come here. . . .”

He put his arms around Minerva, and she slid closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder. Gradually, she relaxed and embraced him, sighing and relishing the pulse of his magic and the comforting sensation of his hands stroking her back. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but she also didn’t want to spoil that moment. Instead, she thought she would say something light.

“This is nice. But I did think that we had said that we would skip the insults next time . . . I think we should remember that in the future.” Minerva felt Albus’s chuckle, and a frisson passed through her. She turned her head and nestled more closely into his embrace. She restrained herself from nuzzling his neck, burying her face in his hair and beard, but she gave him a squeeze, and was pleased when his arms tightened around her. She wished they could stay like that forever.

Minerva lifted her head a bit and kissed his cheek. She felt him sigh slightly, and she kissed him again before sitting back a little and looking at him. His eyes met hers, and she smiled. Her smile grew as he kissed her cheek softly, the barest touch of his lips to her skin, and she couldn’t help herself. She turned her head and kissed his cheek again, then, scarcely pausing, she moved her lips to his and kissed him lightly. She felt his intake of breath, but he did not release her from his arms, so she brought her lips to meet his again, and was thrilled as he responded, returning her kiss. His lips moved against hers as they renewed the kiss, and when his hand moved to her side and then touched her breast, she moaned lowly into his mouth.

But then he was gone, suddenly, and she was sitting back against the sofa. Confused, Minerva looked over to where he stood, halfway across the room.

“Gods, Minerva, I am sorry, please . . . so sorry! Propinquity – it was simply propinquity! I had no intention, never . . . never would intend such a thing. I – ”

Minerva tried to interrupt him, but he continued as he began to back away toward the door, horror written on his face.

“I never would do such a thing, never – just a physical reaction. Physical – I – forgive me,” Albus said.

Minerva called his name, but he opened the door and was gone.

“Stop, Albus!” It was too late, he was through the door, and the door was closed behind him, and tears streamed down her face. How could she have been so foolish! And now . . . now he was blaming himself.

Minerva pushed herself from the sofa and went to the door, looking out, but he was nowhere to be seen. She hurried to the stairs and looked down, but she could not see him or hear his footsteps. She ran down the main corridor to the narrow hall that led to his backstairs, but he was gone, not there.

Minerva raced back to her rooms and Flooed to her first floor office, then ran out and up the stairs, down the hall to the gargoyle, panting as she gave the password. She rode the stairs up, walking, as well, trying to reach his office faster. The office was empty, and she took the stairs to his suite two at a time, bursting into his sitting room. Not there. She opened his bedroom door. Not there. She tried every door in the suite, even the door to the loo, but he was nowhere. The stairs that went up. They probably led to the very top of the Headmaster’s Tower. She entered the bedroom and opened the door that led to his backstairs, glancing once at the door at the top of the stairs, but it was shut, and she took the worn, narrow stone stairs up. It was evident when she reached the top of the stairs that he was not there. Minerva looked out across the grounds, and she saw not a soul stirring.

Beginning again to weep, she turned and went back down to Albus’s suite. He had left, and she knew not where. Minerva kept seeing the horrified expression that had been on his face, and she felt inconsolable. She had been such an utter fool. That was where all of those unrestrained fantasies had led her. Why hadn’t she controlled herself? She paid the portraits no heed as she stumbled through Albus’s office, and reaching the second floor, she didn’t care who saw her as she walked weeping through the castle, shuffling her way back to her rooms.

What was she to do? How could she face Albus again? He must think her completely wanton, having thrown herself at him as she had, inspiring a physical reaction in him that had clearly horrified him. She saw no one as she returned to her rooms and cast herself, sobbing now, on her couch. They had been so close and he had been so sweet in his apology, and she had ruined it, utterly ruined it, and perhaps their entire friendship, as well.

She wept, her sobs subsiding to quiet but constant tears, and wondered where Albus could have gone, how he could have seemingly vanished from the castle as he had. One of the Headmaster’s passageways, perhaps, one of which she wasn’t aware . . . anything to get away from her. Minerva sniffed and rolled onto her back. What should she do? She lay in a daze, not thinking, only feeling and trying not to feel, her head throbbing, her heart aching, her limbs heavy, wishing she could scream and cry and rant at the universe, but having no energy to do more than lie there and stare at the ceiling.

Minerva didn’t know how long she lay there when she heard a scrabbling at her window. She turned her head and saw a small owl at her sitting room window. First, she felt for her wand, but she couldn’t seem to raise the energy to cast the spell to open the window, so she forced herself to sit and then to stand and to walk over to the window, where, with a heavy sigh, she pushed down on the latch’s handle and pulled the window open. The little Scops Owl flittered into the room and perched on the edge of the table. Minerva took the parchment from the bird and returned to the sofa, leaving the window open.

Sealed only with a charm, and not with wax, Minerva observed. She unrolled it. It was in black ink, and very brief.

“Dear Minerva,

“Please forgive me. I had no intention of behaving as I did, and I am ashamed. A wizard’s physical reactions are not always in accordance with his feelings, but they should remain within his control. I promise you, Minerva, you have no reason to fear me. I will never do such a thing again and will never allow such an occasion to arise.

“You have been in my care for many a year, first as my student, grandchild of my childhood friend, then, later, as my own friend, and you remain safe with me, Minerva, although I will understand it if you are no longer comfortable in my presence.

“I can say nothing else, and nothing that will explain or excuse my actions. I can only hope that one day you will grant me your forgiveness and that we may return to our friendship.

“Most sincerely,

“Albus”

Minerva crumpled the parchment in her hand and began to cry again. His actions not in accord with his feelings. A physical reaction only, as he had said. Propinquity. She had elicited unwanted reactions in him, and, gentleman that he was, he blamed himself. She dropped the letter to the floor and went to the window. The owl had since flown off, and Minerva looked out across the grounds. She had to get away. She had to leave. She could not bear this any longer.

Without any further reflection, Minerva left her rooms, ignoring the Knight calling out to her, and taking the stairs as fast as she was able, then she was out the doors and running across the lawns. As she ran, she entered her Animagus form, a smooth, flowing transition, and she continued sprinting on four legs out away from the castle, habit carrying her to the small stand of trees near Hagrid’s hut, but she did not stop there, or even pause for breath, but continued racing onward, into the Forest, paying no heed to the sharp slapping of the underbrush against her, or the thorn that lodged in her front paw, just running, blind, falling, tumbling, leaping, into the depths of the Forest, until finally, with a howling cry, she flung herself at the base of a large, gnarled ancient tree, and collapsed.

Minerva didn’t know how long she lay there, as she must have fallen into a light sleep, and she started slightly, hearing a branch crack beneath a heavy foot. More footfalls. Beasts of some sort. Large ones. She listened and sniffed. An unfamiliar musky odour met her nostrils. Her heart began to beat wildly, but she remained frozen at the base of the tree, yet ready to leap up and climb the tree, away from whatever animals lurked nearby. She heard another loud, clomping footfall, and a scuffing at the earth. Hooves, perhaps. Then she heard voices.

“It is one of them, from the place of stone,” said a youthful masculine voice.

“Castle. It is called a castle,” said a rougher voice. “Yes, one of them, hiding in a different form. But human. A young one, but still old enough to know the foolishness of being here, sleeping in our wood.”

The footfalls came nearer, and Minerva tried not to stiffen and give away that she was awake.

“What shall we do, Father?” the younger voice said.

“Watch her. For a while. Keep others away that might think to have found their dinner. If she does not wake and leave soon . . .” The older one made a peculiar noise, like the nicker of a horse. “You will wake her. Give her a scare and chase her from the wood so she does not do such a thing again.”

It sounded as though the younger one laughed at that. Minerva didn’t like the thought of the two centaurs staring at her, watching her, even if they were being protective, in their own way. She heard them move off, and she stretched, as though she was just awakening. She stood, stretched again, and as nonchalantly as she could, she scratched the bark of the ancient tree, becoming suddenly painfully aware of the thorn in her front paw. Ignoring it, she turned and walked off, trying not to limp, and aware that the centaurs were following her at a distance.

She had gone quite a ways into the Forest, and Minerva was unsure where she was, but she headed toward where she believed the wall entered the Forest. Finding the wall, she turned and began to walk along it, back toward the school grounds, but then she stopped and changed her mind. She could not return to the school. Not then. What would she do? Go to dinner and pretend that everything was well? Sit there across from Albus and chat about the upcoming school year or the most recent article in Transfiguration Today? No. Minerva turned and headed along the wall away from the school until the wall became low enough to jump. Her paw was hurting quite a bit by that point, but she put it out of her mind. Instead, she leapt to the top of the wall and down again to the other side. Safely out of the Forest, at least the more dangerous part of it, Minerva transformed back to her ordinary form. She hissed a sharp intake of breath as she did so, and looked down at her left hand. It was bloody and dirty, the thorn now driven far into her palm, but she wouldn’t concern herself with that now.

Where to go now? She had no money with her. Could she Apparate? Minerva thought she had calmed down enough to Apparate without Splinching, but at the thought of being calm enough to Apparate, tears rose in her eyes again. She swallowed them and willed herself to regain control of herself. Where to go? Not home, she couldn’t bear the questions, and she must look quite a sight. And not to Melina’s. To Quin, then. He might not be home. She had no idea what time it was. It was still daylight, but with the trees, it was difficult to tell precisely how high the sun was. It could be anywhere between late afternoon and late evening, for all she knew. But Minerva drew her wand from her pocket, held it close, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the Apparition point near Quin’s house. A moment later, there was a crack as she Disapparated, and two centaurs returned to the depths of the Forest.

---

Next: “Seeking Solace” 14 August 1957.

[dianahawthorne]

NOOO!!!! Gods, why didn't Albus listen to Minerva's explanation?! And that letter was AWFUL! I felt so bad for Minerva. Please, don't leave us hanging - update soon!

[Hogwarts Duo]

This is such a roller coaster of a chapter! I feel so sorry for Albus and Minerva when the chapter starts, each hurting because of Albus’ ill-chosen words spoken in the heat of the moment and Minerva’s thoughts on his rash words as well…sniff sniff.

When Minerva is reading through her old letters from Albus, I felt a tug at my heartstrings, especially when she realized that sometimes he’d waited longer to see her than the time they were able to spend together that day. How incredibly sweet and telling that he would be able to sit and wait for so long for her…awwww!!!

What he wanted most was to have Minerva there with him, but he could not be selfish about it.

I found that sentence incredibly sad for many reasons. I really makes me want to cry to know that Albus wants Minerva more than anything and yet doesn’t feel like he has any right to be “selfish” and at least try to win her heart…sniff sniff. I wish he could see himself through her eyes and vice versa. I’m sure it would do them both a world of good!!

“It is a worthy purpose.” He looked down at the hound, which was eying Albus warily. “Fidelio, fetch our mistress.” Addressing Albus again, he said, “Pardon that I do not announce you myself, but I am my lady’s servant,” as though that explained all.

GASP!!!! Did I just read that correctly??? For the first time in this entire story, the Silent Knight declined to announce Albus to his mistress??? Wow, he must really be upset with Albus! Then again, based on what he witnessed earlier and then the “orders” he took from Minerva’s not wanting to be disturbed, I suppose he really does take his job seriously! No wonder Minerva opened the door without thinking…she probably had no idea it was Albus on the other side. LOL

I’m so glad that they had a nice talk about perceptions and the way things had been going. It’s about time Albus knew how his mood swings were affecting Minerva, though I’m sad it took him lashing out at her and her retaliation (for lack of a better word) to bring them to this point. I am extremely happy that he learned she didn’t refuse his owl and that she didn’t specifically tell the Knight not to announce Albus. I’m sure that was a huge weight off his mind!

THE KISS…wow…very nicely done there! I love how it progressed ever so slowly from just tender brushes of lips across the cheek to a nice tender kiss on the lips and Albus instinctively touching her. I could have cried, though, when he mistook her moan for something other than the absolute pleasure he was giving her. Silly wizard!! Maybe one day he’ll get it right…wink wink.

I think my heart was racing with Minerva’s as the darted all over the castle looking for Albus. Man, when he wants to disappear, he certain disappears! I’m very curious to know where he went and how he got there so quickly. It was almost as if he disapparated, though I know that’s not possible on school ground. He must know of another secret passageway! Now, my heart is broken for them…please make it better soon!!!!

Greedily waiting for more!!!
GLM ;D

[esoterica1693]

Hopefully Quin will be able to divine Albus's true concerns from the letter when Minerva recites it to him verbatim, as I hope she will! She is focusing on the "doesn't reflect my feelings" part; hopefully he will pick up on the fear that she will feel threatened by him and figure out what's going on in Albus's head/heart/body. Especially since dearest Quin is probably struggling w/ a milder(?) version of the same dilemma WRT Minerva himself by now...he's promised her she's safe w/ him, but he's obviously beginning to develop feelings for her in spite of himself.

This could get even more interesting....

Great chapter. If excruciatingly painful when Albus disappears.

ETA: Huge props on the use of the word 'propinquity.' My mother was Minerva's age and she used that word lots to describe relationships which came about sort of by accident and proximity.... It is very believable a word and concept for Albus to use. (My mum's grandparents were Albus's age and from the Welsh coast, so no wonder I relate to them all.... <g> )

[muriel2532]

Listen, Albus: SHE KISSED YOU FIRST! And you deserve nothing short of a severe whip-lashing for your continuing ignorance and your blatant lie about your actions not matching your feelings.

God, I had to get that off my chest first! Now to the review:

What a lovely if painful chapter again. The kiss was very sweet and although I have scolded Albus before I almost believe that he was too caught up in the moment to realize that it was Minerva who had initiated the kiss. I am looking forward to his reflections on the situation.

I sincerely hope that Minerva finds solace, but I also hope that things don't get out of hand with Quin. His feelings for her seem to be changing and I imagine that Minerva might be in danger of doing things she will regret later on.

"Comfort and Consolation"? Hmm - hopefully in Albus' arms! Alas, this is but a foolish wish.

[esoterica1693]

Muriel2532 beat me to it re "She kissed you FIRST!" My thoughts exactly, though I didn't have time to type them all b/4 dashing off to a mtg. I do hope that Albus remembers that at some point, and sooner rather than later!!!!.... I also agree that Quin and Minerva together right now could be quite the charged situation. Esp w/ her being all vulnerable emotionally *and* physically too (poor paw/hand !).

I wonder if Albus made his escape by flashing away as a phoenix. He evidently didn't go to his office or rooms, since he didn't seem to have access to his sealing wax and Minerva saw no sign of him. He must still be on the grounds since he seems to have used a school owl. Either he went to some hidden part of his Tower, or perhaps to Gertie's suite, knowing it to be empty and that Minerva would never think to look for him there.

Hopefully his portraits will be of some use and tell him that Minerva came desperately looking for him, looking more crushed than offended.

The kiss was incredibly sweet. He really does need to stop and replay it in his mind and remember that Minerva initiated it--not once but twice--and that her actions could not be misconstrued as platonic by anyone but a very confused wizard....

[dmf1984]

That was excrutiating, happy, sad, aggravating, and what else can I add...dayum. I, too, hope Albus has some positive reflections regarding the fact that MINERVA KISSED HIM first (^TM the two fantabulous posters above).

The kiss was sooooo sweet; it's probably a good thing that Albus takes his vitamin potion too, 'cos Minerva is going to jump his wizardy bones when he finally gets a clue that he really does love her and she really does love him. Oh wait. Is Minerva taking her vitamin potion too? She'll need it, MMADfan, because you once also mentioned that her/his/their fantasies are "tame" by comparison to the real deal (thank God).

Where in the world is Waldo Albus? Where's Wilspy when we need her most (send out a bat-signal just for her)? Will Quin be at home when Minerva arrives all blooded and heart-broken? I kindof hope NOT, unless we're just piling on one more crisis after another. *sigh*

BTW, I like centaurs; they're cool and all Sagitarius-y. However, these two were a little scary. Poor Tabby!

[MMADfan]

I am trying very hard not to comment, give anything away, or anything like that, but I cannot help myself:

Minerva crumpled the parchment in her hand and began to cry again. His actions not in accord with his feelings. A physical reaction only, as he had said. Propinquity. She had elicited unwanted reactions in him, and, gentleman that he was, he blamed himself. She dropped the letter to the floor and went to the window.

Anyway, I'm about 25 - 30k words up, so there will be regular updates -- no waiting weeks to find out what happens to Minerva or where Albus disappeared to.

[minerva62]

Whow! As Hogwarts Duo said, what a roller coaster chapter!

Why do I have the feeling that Albus disappeared to his secret place where he once took Minerva? When Minerva went along the stone wall and jumped it I thought she would go to this place to find some calmness and meet Albus there.......

Like the other commentators I got the feeling that meeting Quin now would make things even more complicated........

Okay.... somebody will find the crumpled letter...maybe Gertie...

UPDATE SOON! I CAN'T WAIT!!!!! (Don't feel pressed ;D)

[dmf1984]

mmadfan said:

I am trying very hard not to comment, give anything away, or anything like that, but I cannot help myself:

Minerva crumpled the parchment in her hand and began to cry again. His actions not in accord with his feelings. A physical reaction only, as he had said. Propinquity. She had elicited unwanted reactions in him, and, gentleman that he was, he blamed himself. She dropped the letter to the floor and went to the window.

OK, which hand was it: her right or left? She injured her left hand later.

Someone neato will find the crumpled parchment: Blampa? Wilspy? TSK? Albus?

I'm really reaching here, but I still think TSK WANTED her to open the door without knowing who was there (so he sends Fidelio).

And, poor Quin. I hope he gets to find someone after all of this drama! Someone like Minerva, but not she, since MM's having hot-naked-mad-monkey sex with Albus.

Yeah. That should just about do it.

BTW, you rock, MMADfan.

;D

Di

[esoterica1693]

Well, I guess someone's going to find that parchment. Either Blampa, or Wilspy if Albus sends her to check on MM, or APWBD himself if he comes to check on her. Trudie being off frolicking in the heather somewhere far away w/ Malcolm.... So, if it eventually gets back to Albus, if he were a sensible wizard he might think, "Oh no--I hurt her more--and she did kiss me first, now that I think about it, so I must have hurt her more--<lightbulb> maybe she WANTED me to kiss her back and caress her and....<insert visions of hot monkey sex here>" But this is APWBD we're talking about, not a normal wizard, so instead he will probably think "Oh no--she was SO offended that she can't even bear to deal w/ my apology and has run far away and I now have another faculty member to replace and I don't blame her and I am a horrible lech and I shall just go eat wizarding worms." <wry g>

[MMADfan]

dmf1984 said:

mmadfan said:

I am trying very hard not to comment, give anything away, or anything like that, but I cannot help myself:

Minerva crumpled the parchment in her hand and began to cry again. His actions not in accord with his feelings. A physical reaction only, as he had said. Propinquity. She had elicited unwanted reactions in him, and, gentleman that he was, he blamed himself. She dropped the letter to the floor and went to the window.

OK, which hand was it: her right or left? She injured her left hand later.

Someone neato will find the crumpled parchment: Blampa? Wilspy? TSK? Albus?

I'm really reaching here, but I still think TSK WANTED her to open the door without knowing who was there (so he sends Fidelio).

And, poor Quin. I hope he gets to find someone after all of this drama! Someone like Minerva, but not she, since MM's having hot-naked-mad-monkey sex with Albus.

Yeah. That should just about do it.

BTW, you rock, MMADfan.

;D

Di

No, no, no . . . I made things worse! *slaps head in anguish* No one will find it. But Minerva doesn't have it with her. Quin will not read it or hear its exact words. Thus, he hears only what Minerva says and what her interpretation is. That was my only point. *sigh* I am such a silly! This is why I should keep my comments until these chapters are done. . . . but I'm glad everyone is enjoying it! And speculating away! ;D And I've always wanted to rock! Woo-hoo! I rock! LOL! ;D

Thanks! (And it's helping me beat the ffnet-is-all-f'ed-up blues! )

[MMADfan]

esoterica1693 said:

<snip!>. . . Trudie being off frolicking in the heather somewhere far away w/ Malcolm.... <snip!> But this is APWBD we're talking about, not a normal wizard, so instead he will probably think "Oh no--she was SO offended that she can't even bear to deal w/ my apology and has run far away and I now have another faculty member to replace and I don't blame her and I am a horrible lech and I shall just go eat wizarding worms." <wry g>

OMG! I loved this, particularly the last line! Hahahaha!

[dmf1984]

mmadfan said:

esoterica1693 said:

<snip!>. . . Trudie being off frolicking in the heather somewhere far away w/ Malcolm.... <snip!> But this is APWBD we're talking about, not a normal wizard, so instead he will probably think "Oh no--she was SO offended that she can't even bear to deal w/ my apology and has run far away and I now have another faculty member to replace and I don't blame her and I am a horrible lech and I shall just go eat wizarding worms." <wry g>

OMG! I loved this, particularly the last line! Hahahaha!

The Gummi worms are quite nice actually; they have lemon and sour apple (which are my faves). Hmm.

[esoterica1693]

I made things worse! *slaps head in anguish* No one will find it. But Minerva doesn't have it with her. Quin will not read it or hear its exact words. Thus, he hears only what Minerva says and what her interpretation is. That was my only point. *sigh*

Actually, that was my first thought as to your point. But I sort of imagined Minerva committing it to memory in spite of herself--it sort of searing itself there --and thus Quin would get at least the correct words, if not the correct interpretation. But evidently not! <g>

I am sure Albus would choose lemon gummi worms under ordinary circumstances, but in this case eating worms is to be a punishment, so he'd choose whatever flavour he hates. Actually he'd go down to Johannes's greenhouses and find himself some real live ones--or go to the store in Hogsmeade that has a cardboard sign in the window: "Live Bait, Sandwiches and Cheese Curds." Oh, wait, those are in Wisconsin. I guess in Hogsmeade it would be "Live Bait, Sandwiches and Chocolate Frogs."

Back to processing periodicals...sigh...

[MMADfan]

esoterica1693 said:

I made things worse! *slaps head in anguish* No one will find it. But Minerva doesn't have it with her. Quin will not read it or hear its exact words. Thus, he hears only what Minerva says and what her interpretation is. That was my only point. *sigh*

Actually, that was my first thought as to your point. But I sort of imagined Minerva committing it to memory in spite of herself--it sort of searing itself there --and thus Quin would get at least the correct words, if not the correct interpretation. But evidently not! <g>

I am sure Albus would choose lemon gummi worms under ordinary circumstances, but in this case eating worms is to be a punishment, so he'd choose whatever flavour he hates. Actually he'd go down to Johannes's greenhouses and find himself some real live ones--or go to the store in Hogsmeade that has a cardboard sign in the window: "Live Bait, Sandwiches and Cheese Curds." Oh, wait, those are in Wisconsin. I guess in Hogsmeade it would be "Live Bait, Sandwiches and Chocolate Frogs."

Back to processing periodicals...sigh...

He could use a sorting charm on some Bertie Botts Beans and pick out all the flavours that are truly vomitous. Like vomit-flavoured beans. And then eat those.

But I wouldn't do that to poor Albus. *sniffle* poor Albus! But fortunately, I know what is going to happen, so my sniffles are very half-hearted ones.

If people are very, very good -- and there's no whining or whinging (gods, I hate whining!) -- I may update with the next chapter tomorrow. Maybe. (I don't like whining, but flattery, OTOH . . . . lol!)

FFnet is still not working. I hate that site sometimes. They are so nonresponsive. They don't even put anything on the main page indicating that they are aware of the problem and are working on it. For all anyone knows, they could be ignoring all the emails they are getting telling them that the site is broken. And they haven't noticed that nothing has had a new chapter in more than a day. . . . annoying people . . .<goes off to grumble and mutter to herself>

[Orion's Guard]

Well we've been waiting for that for 130 some odd chapters, it's about damn time!

Okay, I'm calm. I actually read the first half this morning and the rest now. I don't care if they're both freaking out about it, it still happened, and that means they're going to have to talk about it. As far as Minerva conveying the wrong message, I think Quin ought to know by now that she may be over exaggerating, even though he may not want to. And I would imagine that Phoenix!Albus can move pretty quickly.

And he just had to say the word "grandchild" in the letter. It may not be the most hurtful thing there, but it really jumped out at me.

[Merriam]

Finally, the chapter we've all been waiting for . . . .

Goodness, MMADfan, what a chapter! It was heart-wrenching and painful but very, very good. As much as I want everything to "work out" between them already, I must admit that these misunderstandings are much more interesting and much more realistic than anything I could ever devise.

I love Quin, but I am concerned that he may unintentionally take advantage of Minerva. Or, after hearing Minerva's interpretation of the letter, he may assume that Albus doesn't love her after all and thus she is free for Quin to pursue.

It will be very interesting to read Albus' reactions to the events. And it would make me very happy if you would update tomorrow. I think this story is the best ADMM fanfic EVER and that you are an amazing writer. There, is that enough flattery for you?

I am ever-waiting in pleasurable anticipation . . . .

[tabbykittenkat]

I totally agree, it is about time..........grrr....if he only let her speak, maybe things would be diffrent.....great job though!!! and great job on keeping this going for so long, it engages me by each chapter.....keep it up!!! love it

tabby

[dianahawthorne]

I swear, waiting for another chapter of RaM is harder for me then waiting for a new Harry Potter book! I definitely like RaM much more than the Harry Potter books!

By the way, is the Silent Knight any relation of Sir Cadogan?

[sevherfan]

No, no, no. I mean: yes, yes! But no! They kissed. It was the most amazing kiss sequence in the history of kiss sequences. And then he bolts!

But she knows how sensitive he is about being physical because of his slutty past... That's why she knew to run after him as a reflex, right? Instead of jumping to assuming it was her fault and immediately hiding??

And she ran after him! The portraits saw it! They have to report that kind of shit to the Headmaster. What else do they have to do with their time?? And why would she possibly run after him if she was scared for her freaking virginity?? Even he has to see some of that logic. She even checked his bedroom! Go play back that moment in the Heart... He doesn't need the desk charm, he needs one to tell him when people are in his bedroom.

p.s. They kissed three chapters ahead of schedule, I like it! But I can no longer condone kissing Quin after their first kiss. So don't even think about it.

[EloquentPhoenix]

No whinging dear, I promise. I'm actualyl feeling far better about it all. Obviously I'm not sat here 'Oh I'm so glad he bolted' because I'm not. But it wouldn't have been RaM, and it wouldn't have been Albus if he hadn't.

I actually came over here to read other people's reviews because there's just me over at the CR boards currently. And I'm very worried by all of this Quin talk. I was perfectly happy with the Quin-is-happy-as-he-is thing. Now I'm worried because I don't want him to be hurt either And I do love to worry...

PS: I reread the chapter this morning, and the kiss.... I think I was too distraught at the time to mention just how perfect it was.

[MMADfan]

Note: Not DH-compliant!

Posted in three parts because of length.

CXXXV: Seeking Solace

Quin opened his door. Looking out at Minerva, he took in her appearance and the waves of pain rolling off of her.

“Oh, love . . . smashed t’ smithereens, is it, now? Come, come in.” He took her arm and guided her into the foyer, where she began to weep. Seeing her face, her clothes, and then her hand, he said, “What have you done here? What has happened?”

Minerva’s answer was lost in her choking sobs, and Quin took her into his arms and held her.

“Shh, shh, shh . . . just relax, there, love. You are safe. You are with me now. Just shh, shh, shh,” he said in a soft voice. “No need to speak yet. Just come in here with me.”

He led her to the sitting room and to the couch, easing her down, then crouching in front of her, trying to see her face, look at her eyes. He pushed back the hair that had straggled from its bun.

“Ah, love, you sit there a moment. I will be back soon. Just a minute.” Minerva clutched his arms, sobbing still, and he kissed her forehead. “I will be back. I promise. Lie down here. It will only be a few minutes.”

When he returned a few minutes later, Levitating a basin of warm water and carrying towels and a small bottle, she was lying on the sofa, just as he had left her.

“Had to make a quick telephone call, and I wanted to fetch a few things, as well,” he said in a gentle voice. “You just stay right as you are. I will take care of everything.”

Quin spoke to her lightly as he first washed her left hand, using a nonverbal spell to soothe the pain before extracting the thorn with another spell. The cut began to bleed again, and he told her that wasn’t a bad thing, that it would help clean the wound. He dabbed it with a potion, then wrapped her hand with some gauze, saying he was no Mediwizard, but that should keep her for a while. He then banished the dirty water from the basin and called forth fresh warm water to fill it. He dipped a flannel into the water and began to bathe her face, then her right hand, speaking in low, crooning tones as he did so, and passing cooling, soothing charms over her as he washed her. Finally, he banished everything and sat on the edge of the sofa beside her.

“Better now, Minerva?” he asked.

She nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Do you feel up to talking about it now?”

“It was awful . . .” Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to speak, and she shut them tightly.

“Take your time,” Quin said, holding her right hand between both of his. “Was it Albus?”

Minerva nodded.

Quin hesitated, then said in a questioning tone, “He didn’t hurt you – I mean physically . . .”

Minerva shook her head vehemently, her head aching as she did. “No, he wouldn’t, never – ”

“I couldn’t imagine such a thing,” Quin said, “but you were a right mess . . . and your heart is in smithereens, I could feel that as clear as anythin’, even before I opened me door and saw you . . . ’twas just rollin’ off you. And still is.”

Minerva let out a shuddering sigh and didn’t open her eyes, but she held Quin’s hand close to her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he answered. “Don’t worry about it at all. Just tell me whatever you wish to.”

“He . . . I was a fool, such a fool . . . it is so embarrassing. I thought he felt the same, or was coming to, and I – oh, gods, Quin, it was awful!” Tears rolled down her face again.

Quin lifted her and held her against him until eventually her tears subsided.

“I had been upset with him, you see. He had admonished me for not informing anyone I wasn’t going to be returning to the castle. He behaved . . . as though he were someone else, someone whom I did not know. And so I stayed in yesterday, in my rooms. I just felt terrible, and I couldn’t face seeing him, or anyone else. Today, he came to find me when I was late to lunch. He apologised for what he had said. We were talking. Some of the things he said, he was so warm and sincere, Quin, it was lovely. And when he saw that I was upset, he held me.” Minerva sighed against Quin’s chest before she continued. “I thought . . . I kissed his cheek. And when I looked at him, I thought I saw something in his eyes, an affection for me . . . then he kissed my cheek. It was just a little kiss, Quin, and I don’t know why I made it more than I did, but . . . I kissed him. I mean that I really kissed him.” She choked slightly. “It seemed all right at first, I thought he was returning my kiss, and the way he touched me . . . but then he was suddenly across the room, and I have never seen a more horrified look on a man’s face. He apologised. He said he hadn’t intended it. And then, oh, gods, Quin! It was terrible!”

“What? What did he do?” Quin asked, aghast.

“He said it was just propinquity. Mere propinquity and a physical response. And he left. I tried to stop him, but he wasn’t listening. I looked for him everywhere, in his office, in his suite . . . I couldn’t find him. Then he sent me a note, apologising again, saying once more that he never would have done such a thing, that he didn’t intend it, that I was like a grandchild in his care, and that nothing like that would ever happen again. And he said that his feelings for me were unrelated to his physical response. It was dreadful, just dreadful, Quin! I made a fool out of myself, and now he is blaming himself rather than me, though what he must think of me, throwing myself at him like that, I can only imagine.”

“I am sorry, Minerva . . . I had hoped . . . I had hoped that he felt more than that,” Quin said. “But how did you come to be in such a state? With a thorn embedded so deeply in your hand, and so dishevelled?”

“After I received his note, I just couldn’t bear the thought of staying there one more moment, so I left my rooms and the castle, and I ran out in my Animagus form. That was, perhaps, even more foolish than my behaviour with Albus. I ran out into the Forbidden Forest, which is called that for very good reasons. I ran and paid no attention to where I was. Somehow, I got the thorn in my paw as I ran, but I kept going. It was as though I had gone mad, Quin, and no longer knew myself. Finally, I stopped, just . . . stopped. In the middle of the Forest, and I lay down. I was dozing when two centaurs came upon me. I pretended to be asleep still, until they moved away, but they were still there, watching, so I didn’t transform then, but waited until I left the Forest. I jumped over the wall. By then, the thorn was driven well into my paw pad, and when I Transfigured myself back into my ordinary form, I think it worked its way in even deeper.” She pulled back out of his arms and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Quin. I shouldn’t have come here, burdened you, but I didn’t know where else. I have my wand, but no money. I couldn’t imagine going to my parents’, the questions they would ask . . . I thought of you, and I Apparated here. I could go, get a room somewhere, if you could loan me a little money until I can get to Gringotts – ”

“Don’t even think such a thing. You are stayin’ here until you are ready to go home, either to your parents’ or to Hogwarts. The kids are still with Ella – I telephoned to let her know I would not be there for dinner tonight – and Mrs Manning only comes a couple times a week when the children aren’t stayin’ with me. And don’t even think to be sayin’ anythin’ about bein’ a trouble to me! You are no such thing, Minerva. Now,” he said, waving his hand as if calling someone into the room, “you stay right here for now. D’you need anythin’ at the moment?” A blanket flew in through the open door. Spreading it over her, Quin said, “You just curl up here and rest. You know where the loo is, if you need it. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thank you, Quin,” Minerva said, looking up at him gratefully.

“Ah, I’m happy to have you here, Minerva.” He bent and kissed her forehead before leaving and gently closing the door behind him.

Forty-five minutes later, he reentered the sitting room to find Minerva asleep. He settled the large tray on the coffee table, then knelt beside her. He looked at her a moment, then caressed her cheek and called her name. Minerva’s eyes fluttered open to see Quin’s smiling face. She smiled slightly in return.

“Mmm, something smells good,” she said, stretching and realising that she hadn’t eaten in hours.

“Some soup, some o’ me famous scones, butter, and hot tea,” Quin answered.

“I am hungry, actually. Didn’t think I would be,” Minerva said, sitting up.

“There’s more soup in the kitchen, so if you want more, just say the word.”

In short order, Minerva had eaten a bowl of soup and three scones. Quin poured her a second cup of tea.

“Would you like more soup?” he asked.

“No, thank you. That was fine,” Minerva said, sitting back.

“When did you last eat? If you haven’t been leavin’ your rooms . . .”

“My house-elf – my Hogwarts elf – brought me meals. I had a good breakfast this morning. That was at about five o’clock, though, and I never made it to lunch, of course, so it has been a while since I ate. And entering my Animagus form takes energy.”

“I haven’t a house-elf, but consider me your personal servant while you are here, Minerva,” Quin said with a smile. “No missed meals under this roof!”

Minerva smiled slightly and nodded. She felt somewhat better after having rested and eaten, but she ached, her throat felt raw, and her head hurt, but worst of all was the pain that seemed to centre on her heart, but that inhabited her entirely. She had lost Albus. Lost him completely. Whatever he said about friendship, she couldn’t imagine being able to look him in the eye again. She would have to, though. She was a Hogwarts teacher and Head of Gryffindor. She could not completely avoid him, though she did think that she could avoid being alone with him, at least for a while. And eventually, they would become more comfortable with each other and she would lose some of her sense of humiliation. But they would never be able to return to the friendship they had before. Minerva wished that they had never reconciled after he had overheard her complaining to Poppy. At the time, she hadn’t believed that she could feel any worse than she had then; now she knew better. She grimaced.

“Minerva?” Quin asked, looking at her with concern. “Are you all right? That’s a foolish question, I’m sorry . . .”

“No, thank you. I’m fine – well, as fine as I could be, given my humiliation and my . . . loss.”

“You know, Minerva, I’ve been thinkin’ about that. If he cares for you, and he’s attracted to you, it seems to me that he might come to fall in love with you. Maybe ’tisn’t as bleak as it seems to you,” Quin suggested.

Minerva shook her head. “No, it is. He said it was just propinquity, it was like a . . . a reflex, and it had nothing to do with his feelings for me. He was horrified, Quin. And I can understand why,” she said, her voice breaking, “if he sees me as a granddaughter.” Tears began to trickle down her face again.

“But you aren’t his granddaughter – ” Quin began.

“That makes no difference. Do you think I am so naive that I believe that a man only . . . that he has to feel something in order to . . . oh, I don’t want to think about it,” Minerva said, closing her eyes.

“Perhaps you are right,” Quin said. “I am sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, encouragin’ you in your feelin’s, and now, you’re hurt more than before.”

Minerva shook her head. “It might be better this way. To know now. To get it out, not to harbour false hopes for years to come.” She didn’t sound convinced by her own words, though, and when Quin put an arm around her shoulders, she leaned against him and sighed. “It’s never easy to be rejected, but to have it from him, to have him so . . . repulsed.”

Minerva buried her head against Quin’s chest and took comfort from his embrace. As he stroked her back, she began to relax, and her tears dried.

“You have a headache, love?” Quin asked.

She nodded, and she felt Quin kiss her forehead, and the cooling spell wash over her face, drying her tears, calming her, and alleviating her headache, much as he had that night in her room at the Gamps, when he had first learned of her love of an unattainable wizard.

“I’ll fetch you a Headache Potion now, or some aspirin, if you prefer,” he offered.

Minerva shook her head and clung to him. “No, don’t go, not yet. It’s a bit better now.”

Quin nodded and leaned back, holding her. He began to remove her hairpins, sending them over to the table, one at a time. “There, that should help a little, too,” he said, running his hands through her hair, then smoothing it. “You really did get yourself into a state. Do you know you have a shiner?”

“A shiner?” Minerva asked.

“A black eye, not bad, but still . . . when I saw that, and the blood on you, I was worried. I did what I could for it when I washed your face, but I’m afraid that me Healin’ skills are minimal, just what I need with two active kids and no more.”

“I ache all over,” Minerva said, turning slightly in his arms and touching her leftt eye. “I notice it now that you mention it, but . . . it must have been when I was running through the wood, there was a lot of underbrush.”

“A nice hot bath might be in order, then. Some good bath salts in the water. That will help.”

Minerva nodded, but said, “Not right now, though. Later.”

The room was beginning to grow dark, and Quin waved a hand to light a lamp. Minerva turned her face from the light, into his chest, and he dimmed it slightly. She sighed, relaxing as he resumed rubbing her back reassuringly. Her hand crept up to his shoulder, and she played with the ends of his hair. His hand stilled its stroking.

“I think it might be time for that bath now, love,” he said softly. “I’ll go get everythin’ ready for you, and find a robe for you, and some pyjamas to Transfigure. Some Headache Potion, too.”

“No, please, Quin. Don’t leave . . . I just. I feel so empty now.” She felt him nod, and she relaxed again.

She was beginning to relax and fall asleep, and she felt him shift, as if to rise, and her hand grasped his shoulder reflexively.

“Thought you were asleep, I did,” Quin said softly. “I was just goin’ to run that bath for you. I’ll be back.”

Minerva raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him. “Thank you, Quin. You are very good to me.”

He stroked her face, brushing her hair back. “’Tis an easy thing with you, Minerva.”

Minerva kissed his jaw, then kissed it again, then his cheek, then his mouth. Quin touched her cheek and eased her back away from him before kissing her forehead gently.

“You’re not after wantin’ that, love,” he said very softly.

“But you care for me . . .” Minerva said.

“O’ course I do. You know it,” he answered.

“You don’t find me attractive?”

Quin took in a deep breath and let it out, looking at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t like t’ lie to you, Minerva. You are a very attractive witch, and you know I find you so.”

Minerva turned her face from him, tears springing into her eyes.

“Shush, shush, no need for more tears,” Quin said gently, pulling her back to rest on his chest. “But I know you have hurt in you, Minerva, or you would never think to . . . you wouldn’t think o’ me and how I might find you.”

“So, you say you care for me, and you find me attractive, but you don’t want me,” Minerva said bitterly. “It must be my lucky day.”

“Ah, don’t say that, Minerva! Not like that. ’Tisn’t fair to either of us.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just a fool. A fool with two wizards in one day. Lovely.”

“That you are not,” Quin answered. “Not at all. And me feelin’s aren’t as separate from me desires as they may have been in the other wizard today. But it doesn’t change anythin’ between us. I’m goin’ up and drawin’ your bath. I’ll come for you when everythin’s ready for you.”

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXXV: Seeking Solace, continued

Twenty minutes later Quin was back.

“Your bath is ready, and I left a robe and some pyjamas and a few other things in the bathroom. Feel free to Transfigure anythin’ as you need to.” He held out his hand and helped Minerva to stand. “I’ll show you where it is, and you’ll be in the same bedroom as before, so I hope you’ll be comfortable tonight.”

“I’m sure I will be,” Minerva answered.

He had put lavender scented bath salts in the water, and the room was comfortably warm. After he showed her where he had set the nightclothes for her, Quin left, saying as he closed the door that he would be nearby, and to call out if she needed him. Minerva undressed, getting a good look at her clothes as she did so. A few cleaning charms, and they would be fine to wear the next day, but she must have been quite a sight when she landed on Quin’s doorstep, she thought, particularly after catching a glimpse of her “shiner” in the mirror. No wonder he had asked if Albus had hurt her physically. Albus would never do such a thing, of course. Breaking her heart was an entirely different matter. Minerva sighed and tried to keep herself from crying again. There was a vial of Headache Potion sitting beside the sink next to a clean hairbrush. She downed the Headache Potion then climbed into the bathtub.

For the next twenty minutes, Minerva did her best not to think. She relaxed, then she washed, then she relaxed again, but finally she washed her hair, rinsed it, then stepped out of the tub. She wrapped a large towel around her, then using her wand, she dried her hair before brushing it out. She removed the wet bandage from her left hand. The potion had been a good one, and her hand was well on its way to healing, though it was still sore and the injury not yet fully closed. She shrugged and ignored it.

A Transfiguration charm, and the pyjamas became a suitable nightgown, but she did nothing to the dressing gown, pulling the oversized robe on and wrapping it close around her. Quin had also brought her a pair of socks, which she Transfigured into a pair of light slippers, tears coming to her eyes when she remembered how Albus had Transfigured his socks into slippers for her. She still had the slippers in her wardrobe, not wanting to part with them.

Minerva opened the door and stepped into the hall, calling Quin’s name. He stepped out of the bedroom just beside the bathroom, himself dressed in pyjamas and dressing gown.

Smiling, he said, “You look a sight better. How do you feel?”

Minerva tried to return his smile. “I feel better. Cleaner. Less achey. And my headache is gone. Thank you for the potion.”

“Good, and you’re welcome. Your bedroom is this way, you may remember. I brought your hairpins up and put them on the nightstand, and there’s an extra blanket, too. Do you think you’ll be wantin’ anythin’ else?” He asked as he opened the door to the guest room. “Somethin’ to read? No, didn’t think so.”

“Some company?” Minerva said hopefully.

“We can sit in the library for a bit, if you like,” Quin suggested.

Minerva nodded, and he led the way to the library, down the hall and around a corner. Like the dining room below, it had large windows that looked out on the courtyard garden, and French doors opened onto a narrow balcony. He waved the doors open.

“Would you care to sit here?” he asked.

“This would be nice, thank you,” Minerva said.

“I’d suggest a glass o’ wine, but I think its medicinal value would be outweighed by its negative effects on your headache, particularly after the potion. But tomorrow, if you like, we could have our lunch here,” Quin suggested as they sat.

“I should be gone tomorrow,” Minerva said. “I can go to Gringotts in the morning, get some money, find someplace to stay.”

“If that is what you would like, Minerva, but you are truly welcome here. I have rearranged me schedule. I am free tomorrow, and Friday, too, if you need me.”

Minerva sniffled and wiped her eyes. “What you must think of me, Quin, breaking down in tears at the slightest thing. But it means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“’Tis me own pleasure, love,” he answered, taking her hand. “And I think you have had a very hard day, that is what I think.”

“It wasn’t just today. It was the accumulation of everything. I already felt emotional before Albus even came to see me. If I hadn’t been so, so . . . so vulnerable just then, I never would have kissed him as I did. But I thought, it seemed to me, I thought he kissed me, too.” She shook her head. “If he had only just, just moved away, or pulled back, but . . . no, he leapt from me as though he had been bitten.”

“Odd, it is, that you couldn’t find him after,” Quin said thoughtfully. “Where d’you think he went to?”

Minerva sighed. “I haven’t a clue. I think if he’d just made himself invisible, I might still have felt him near, but I was so upset, I might not have. I could scarcely tell where I was and what I was doing, after all.”

“Made his self invisible? You mean Disillusioned his self?”

“No, he can become invisible. I don’t know how, except I think it might be some kind of perceptual trick, acting on the perceptions of those around him rather than on his own body, as is the case with a Disillusionment Charm.”

“Really? Huh . . . heard tell of such a thing, but thought it an exaggeration,” Quin said.

“I never thought it possible until I saw him do it myself. I don’t know how commonly known that is, so perhaps – ”

“An’ who would I tell? Me good friend Franky Flint?” Quin asked with a grin. “It might help him move up in the Department of Mysteries, after all!”

Minerva smiled slightly at that. “Did you see him yesterday?”

Quin shook his head. “I did not. Can’t say I missed seein’ him, either! But I did me business there, though it may be moot now, but . . . ’twas a painless visit, relatively speakin’.”

Minerva yawned.

“Bedtime?” Quin asked. “Come, let me tuck you in, then I’ll bring you somethin’ nice to drink.”

Quin left her at her bedroom, promising to be back in a few minutes, and, good to his word, he was, carrying two steaming mugs.

“Horlicks,” he pronounced. “Nice Muggle drink I make me kids,” he said as he handed her a cup and sat down at the end of the bed.

Minerva hadn’t had it before, so she sipped it cautiously. It was a bit sweet, but nice, and she finished the foamy, milky drink, then leaned back against her pillows. Quin finished his, put the mug down on the nightstand, and pulled the covers up around her a bit more. He caressed her brow briefly.

“I hope you’ll be sleepin’ well, love. If anythin’ bothers you in the night, wake me. You know where I’ll be.”

Minerva took his hand. “Please, don’t go just yet. I – I feel so . . .”

Quin sighed and sat back down beside her. “It will be better, Minerva. Give it some time. You will feel better.”

Minerva nodded, but she couldn’t imagine this bleak emptiness ever disappearing, and as he moved to stand, she caught at his arm. “Please, don’t leave. Please.”

She caressed his arm and moved to pull him closer, her other hand at the side of his face.

“Don’t, Minerva,” Quin said, and she turned her face from him. Taking a deep breath, he moved closer again and held her. “I will stay, if you like. I won’t leave you. But I’m just stayin’, if you take me meanin’.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Quin kissed the top of her head, then as she relaxed, he moved the covers aside, took off his dressing gown, and lay down beside her. She rolled over and lay against him.

“Better now?” he asked.

Minerva nodded again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

Minerva was quiet for a moment, then she said, “You needn’t stay. I . . . I am embarrassed . . . I shouldn’t have – ”

“It’s fine, Minerva, though if you’d prefer me to leave, I will,” Quin said.

“No,” she said softly. “I’d rather you stayed.”

“Kick me out if I snore or such,” Quin said, making a gesture to darken lamps.

Minerva let out a short laugh and put an arm around him. “Good night, Quin.”

“Good night, love.”

Minerva woke a few times in the night, reassured by Quin’s presence beside her, and when she finally woke again in the early morning, she gazed at him as he slept, his face relaxed, looking young and boyish. His lips were slightly parted and his breathing light. Minerva remembered what Malcolm had said, with a flick of his little finger, that she could just “tip him right over,” if she wished. She didn’t wish, she hadn’t wished . . . but he was a good man, a good friend, and certainly an attractive wizard, just as Malcolm had described him. She smiled slightly, thinking of the description, “pretty, but rugged.” He was that. Minerva remembered the kiss he gave her on the balcony of the Gamps. He said that he had been out of practice, but it had been very nice. She had felt odd about it afterward because of her feelings for Albus. And although she had not admitted it to herself at the time, even then she had had hopes that Albus might someday return her feelings. But now, that hope was gone entirely. Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she blinked them away, reaching out and touching Quin’s cheek lightly, not waking him, simply making contact with him and his warmth. His magic thrummed lightly beneath her fingertips, strong, but far from the strength of Albus’s.

Minerva closed her eyes. She had to stop thinking about Albus, measuring her life by her relationship to him, measuring others by their similarity or dissimilarity to him. She opened her eyes again. Quin had changed his plans for her, and this wasn’t the first time. She caressed his cheek once more, and this time, his eyes opened. He blinked.

“Minerva. Mm. Good morning,” he said sleepily, stretching slightly.

She smiled at him. “Good morning, Quin. Sleep well?”

He nodded. “And you?”

She tilted her head noncommittally. “Fine. I woke up a few times, but I slept better than I had expected to.”

“I, um, need to get up,” Quin said.

“Yes, of course,” Minerva replied.

He rolled away from her and Summoned his dressing gown from where it lay on the floor, where it had fallen the night before. He swung his legs around and quickly wrapped the robe around him.

“I’m just goin’ to go down the hall, use me own bathroom. I’ll make us some breakfast, if you would like to meet me in the kitchen in a few minutes,” he said as he opened the door and turned his head to look at her.

Minerva nodded, trying not to smile. She had a feeling she knew what had prompted his rapid departure from the bed, and she doubted it was simply a full bladder. “I’ll see you in a little while, then.”

She got up herself and went into the small bathroom just off the bedroom. She emerged a few minutes later and looked at her robes. She had neglected to clean them up the night before, and in the daylight, she saw more dirt and bloodstains than she had noticed earlier. She must have presented a frightening appearance, dirty, bloody, black-eye, hair a mess. Quin had been so good to her. Minerva waved her wand a few times, cleaning the robes, then she dressed.

When she walked into the kitchen, she found Quin pouring coffee and the porridge stirring on the stove.

“Good morning again, love! Coffee? Or I can make you tea. No trouble at all,” Quin offered.

Minerva hesitated. “I’ll try some coffee.”

Quin quirked a smile. “’Tis no trouble to make you a pot o’ tea, Minerva.”

“No, I think coffee would make a nice change this morning. And I could use the caffeine.”

“Still sleepy?” Quin asked, handing her a cup of coffee and sending the small pitcher of cream over.

“Not exactly. But I feel as though I have cotton wool in my head instead of brains,” Minerva said, sitting down. “And I still ache.” She looked down at her hand and grimaced. “And I should have asked you for something for this after my bath.”

Quin came over, bent, and looked at her left palm. His brow knit in reaction to the scabbed-over wound and the hot, red area around it. “I shoulda thought of it, brought you more potion.” He looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t look this bad last night. I thought it would be all right.”

Quin clucked. “It would be healed up today if I’d done better,” he said, gesturing and Summoning the potion bottle into the kitchen. He put more potion on the wound and watched as it fizzed. “Just keep an eye on it, Minerva. I’ll put more on again later. If you think it needs coverin’ – ”

“No, I think it will be fine.” The redness had faded, and much of the soreness was gone already. “I’ll just be careful of it.”

They ate their breakfast in near silence, Minerva trying hard to keep her emotions under control. They seemed to affect Quin when they were strong, and she didn’t want to burden him more than she already was.

“So, what would you be doing today if you weren’t baby-sitting me?” Minerva asked lightly.

Quin shrugged. “Usually, I’m in me office in the City, or I’m visitin’ a business or lookin’ in on me investments. Today, though, I was goin’ to Switzerland.”

Minerva’s eyebrows rose. “Switzerland?”

Quin nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

“You cancelled a trip to Switzerland to stay here?”

Quin shrugged. “I do business there. ’Twas somethin’ new this time, though, lookin’ into a chocolate company to partner with, but I have others there who can represent me interests. And if this opportunity doesn’t work out, there will be another.”

“Oh, Quin! You shouldn’t have! I could have taken care of myself, found a room somewhere, I would have been fine. Can you still go?”

Quin shook his head, smiling. “I cannot. I have a houseguest, a good friend who needs to be in a warm, homey setting, not in a cold, impersonal room somewhere, dwelling on her troubles alone.”

Minerva felt a bit of cheer enter her with Quin’s warm smile. “Thank you, Quin. I do appreciate your company. And to be honest, I don’t want to be alone. But I can’t face anyone else just yet, either.”

“You needn’t. Not yet, anyway, but later today – ah-ah! – later today, we will go out. You need something more than that one set of robes. And shopping is supposed to be a cure for many a witch’s ills.”

Minerva laughed. “I’ve never been much of a shopper, actually, Quin, and I can’t put you out another night.”

“I don’t see that you put me out at all, Minerva, for all I didn’t sleep in me own bed,” Quin said with a grin. “And even if you went elsewhere, you’d want somethin’ else to wear tomorrow.”

“I don’t know,” Minerva said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed again. “I could just Transfigure something. I don’t want to have to see people yet.”

Quin sat back and looked at her a moment, then he nodded. “As you wish, Minerva.”

After Minerva had helped him clean up the kitchen from breakfast, she followed him up to the library.

“Thought you might like to read a bit, Minerva. And I do have a little work I could do. I’ll just fetch it from me study and join you.”

Minerva ran a finger along the spines of a row of books. Nothing caught her eye. She sighed. It was good of him to try to cheer her up, but she doubted she could read. Still, she found an old book of myths and legends, nicely illustrated, and settled down on the couch with it. She might just be able to concentrate enough to read this, or to pretend to.

A few minutes later, Quin returned, several thick files with him. “I don’t have everythin’ I need here, so don’t be alarmed when the doorbell rings. Someone will be comin’ by from me office shortly with a box.”

“I shouldn’t keep you from your work – ”

“You’re doin’ no such thing, Minerva. This is all catch up I’m doin’ here, and I wouldn’t have normally got to it till next week, so everythin’s fine.”

Minerva turned the pages of her book mechanically, her eyes drifting over the words but not really reading them. Quin got up twice, once to answer the telephone and once to answer the door, returning with a box of papers. Finally, Minerva stopped pretending to read, and just reclined on the couch and watched Quin at work, reading, jotting things down, casting the occasional spell, which Minerva didn’t recognise, and generally the very picture of relaxed concentration. When he had finished with one stack of papers and apparently signed them, he leaned back and stretched, then looked over at her. He smiled, eyes bright.

“Ready for a change, Minerva?”

Minerva shrugged one shoulder. “I couldn’t concentrate.”

“I didn’t think I was that fascinatin’, normally,” he said with a grin.

Minerva blushed slightly. “You didn’t seem to notice.”

“’Tis difficult not to notice when you are watchin’ me, Minerva. To have your undivided attention, rather nice, actually,” he said.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXXV: Seeking Solace, continued

Minerva normally would have asked him about the spells he was using when he worked, but her curiosity had ebbed quickly.

“Chess?” he suggested.

Minerva swallowed, a wave of grief passing over her, and she shook her head. She didn’t know if she could play chess again. Only one game with Albus, and there would never be a rematch now.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ve reminded you of your sadness again,” Quin said with a sigh.

“It’s all right. I’m just being silly. But I don’t think I could concentrate, anyway.” To her embarrassment, tears began to trickle down her face again.

Quin got up and came over to her; he knelt beside her and dabbed her tears with his handkerchief.

“You will feel better, though, love. You won’t always feel this way,” he said.

“You know this?” Minerva asked.

He hesitated. “I know that you are resilient. And I know that I cannot bear to see you unhappy as you are. So I hope you don’t allow this event and these feelings to rule your life.”

“Why not? The other event, my magical accident, my feelings for Albus, they ruled my life for years. This might do the same,” Minerva said dully.

“It didn’t control you utterly, though. It may have felt like it occasionally, and I am not minimising the effect it had on you, but you went on and had a career and a successful apprenticeship. You can still have your life, Minerva, and it can be a good life.” Quin paused, weighing his words. “And I’m still thinkin, though you may not want to hear it now, that Albus may come around. ’Tis true that a wizard can have a physical reaction and be quite attracted to a witch without bein’ in love with her, but I can assure you that there are witches – and I’m not talkin’ ugly ones – who could do all manner o’ things to try to attract me and I wouldn’t feel even a smidgen o’ desire for them. Valerianna Yaxley, for all she has a nice figure and isn’t a hag, she could do the dance o’ the seven veils, and it would disgust me. Albus does care for you very much, and he’s attracted to you – perhaps it was a surprise to him. Perhaps if he knew that you were attracted to him too – ”

“And how could he not know that now, Quin? I wish he didn’t . . . he must think me some sex-starved harlot, throwing myself at him as I did,” Minerva said, her voice breaking. “He was appalled.”

“At his self, his own behaviour, Minerva – ”

“Mine, Quin, my behaviour. His reaction, but my behaviour.” Minerva closed her eyes, trying to keep from crying again.

Quin sat on the edge of the couch and put his arms around Minerva. “Then he is a fool, Minerva. Completely. If a wizard were lucky enough . . . he is a fool.”

Minerva, still trying to control her tears, and fearing that if she spoke, she would lose her composure again, just shook her head. But as she relaxed against Quin, she remembered his words from the previous evening, “Me feelin’s aren’t as separate from me desires as they may have been in the other wizard today. But it doesn’t change anythin’ between us.” He cared for her, and it seemed he was attracted to her. Or had he just been being kind? He was a sweet wizard, a good friend, he could have simply been saying that to make her feel better, because he didn’t want her to feel the way she did, unlovable, unattractive, desperate . . .

She nestled her head against his shoulder and sighed. She couldn’t think anymore. She just want to be. And she didn’t want to feel, or she only wanted to feel something good, something comforting, and so she concentrated on the sensation of Quin’s warm, broad chest against her, his arms around her, his pulse, his breath on her hair, and she began to relax. With just a nudge and the weight of her body, she lay back and brought him to lie beside her. It was warm and comfortable.

“This is nice,” she whispered.

“It is,” Quin replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He shifted slightly, though, just turning a bit out of her embrace, but still leaving her to rest her head against him.

Minerva tilted her head to look up at him. His eyes were half-closed, but he was looking at her.

“Are you uncomfortable, Quin?”

“I am fine. Just fine. Tryin’ not to get too comfortable, is all,” he said with a wry grin.

“Why? Do you have more work you need to do?”

“Best for me not to, that’s all, love,” he said softly. “Don’t want t’ forget that I am here for you.”

“And I appreciate that . . . very much,” Minerva whispered. She reached up with her left hand and gently caressed his face.

Quin cleared his throat. “So how is the hand?” He took it in his own and held it out to look at it. “It looks better. But I’ll put more potion on it at lunch.”

Minerva nodded. “It’s just a little sore now.”

Quin gently rubbed the healing wound with his thumb. “Does that hurt?”

Minerva shook her head. “Not really. Not as it would have yesterday, or even earlier this morning.”

“That is good, then,” Quin said, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it gently. Minerva felt a similar cooling sensation that she felt when he dried her tears with a kiss, and she smiled.

“And that is good, too,” Quin added. “T’ see you smile.”

Minerva stretched a bit and kissed his cheek. She paused, then she said, very softly, “I wish . . . I wish my kisses were more welcome.”

Quin blushed. “Your kisses are, I am sure, welcome. I just think you should reserve them.”

Minerva felt her grief renewed, and she looked away. “Reserve them . . . for whom? I must seem quite pitiful to you.”

“Not pitiful, Minerva, not at all. Sorrowful, and beautiful, but not at all pitiful,” Quin said quietly.

“Is it really so horrendous, to be kissed by me?” she asked, looking back at him, rising up slightly on one elbow.

“Minerva . . .” Quin sighed, closing his eyes.

Minerva raised her hand to his face again, tracing the line of his cheek and his jaw, then the bow of his lips. “Malcolm was right,” she said huskily, “you are both pretty and rugged. I would say handsome and attractive, though.”

Quin didn’t respond, but he did not stop her, either.

“Would it be so bad if I were to kiss you, like this . . . and like this . . .” she said, kissing his cheeks. “Or even like this?” she asked, and she kissed his lips lightly, first once, then twice more.

Quin lifted his hand to her face and opened his eyes. “You don’t want that, love. You don’t . . . if you did . . .”

Minerva bent her head and kissed his lips again. “Kiss me, Quin, kiss me. . . .”

He held her there a moment, looking at her, his fingers carded through her hair, and then he drew her down and kissed her gently on the lips, just once before pulling her head down to rest beside his.

“We cannot do this, love. I cannot. ’Tisn’t right for me to take advantage of your pain and your broken heart.”

“You aren’t!”

“But I would be . . . and I love you too much to do that to you, Minerva.”

Minerva turned her head away, and she felt her tears returning.

“See now, love? Your emotions are all too close t’ the surface, they are. You aren’t yourself,” Quin said.

Minerva nodded. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think I will just go take a nap before lunch, if you don’t mind.”

“O’ course not. I’ll come and call you for lunch. I thought fish might be nice, so if you don’t mind bein’ alone a while, I’ll run to the fishmonger.”

Minerva nodded. “That’s fine.” She didn’t really want to be alone, not at all, but she was too embarrassed by Quin’s rejection, as kind as it had been, to hold him there.

She got up and left the library without looking Quin in the face again.

“Minerva,” Quin called out behind her. She stopped just outside the door. “If I were Albus, things would have been different yesterday. So don’t mistake me meanin’ and feel worse. Please.”

Minerva nodded. “I just need a nap,” she said, not responding to what he said.

“I will fetch you for lunch.”

Minerva went back to the blue and yellow bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She toed off her shoes, then lay back. Sighing, she got back up and took off her robe. Her nightgown was in the little bathroom still, but she didn’t want to bother with it, so she climbed into bed as she was. She was drowsy, actually, though she doubted she would sleep, and she had a headache from all of the tears she had shed, but she didn’t want to bother Quin for another potion.

She thought that she was becoming quite spoiled at Hogwarts, having Blampa take care of all of her daily needs for her, making her bed, taking care of the laundry, picking up after her, bringing her Headache Potions and meals at all hours. She wondered if Hogwarts staff gave their house-elves presents. Clothes would be out of the question, of course, even though a mere member of the staff didn’t have the power to free a house-elf, it would be quite insulting to offer an article of clothing to one. Minerva knew that her mother gave the McGonagall elves gifts each Christmas, but she had no idea what they might be. House-elves had peculiar values, and they were obscure to Minerva. She should ask someone who might know, like Albus . . . a lump rose in her throat. No, not Albus.

Minerva rolled over and hugged a pillow to her, determined not to cry, but neither did she rest. By the time Quin knocked on the door an hour later, her headache was much worse. She rolled over.

“Come in.” Her voice came out in a hoarse croak.

“Minerva?” Quin opened the door a crack and looked in. “Are you all right?” Seeing that she was in bed, the sheet pulled up around her, he came in, setting a package down on the end of the bed. “You don’t sound well.” He felt her forehead.

“I’m not sick,” Minerva said, clearing her throat, “but I do have a terrible headache. Is there lunch already?”

“Not yet. I just got back. But I brought you somethin’. You can look at it later. First, let’s take care of that headache. You’re all knotted up and tense, and congested from your tears.”

He began to gently rub her head, putting more pressure on different spots, and then he moved to her neck and shoulders. A few spots were so tender, Minerva hissed sharply in reaction as Quin massaged them, but then as the muscles relaxed, she did, as well. Her nose began to run, and Quin Summoned a large handkerchief for her.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much. I still have a headache, but it’s not nearly as bad,” Minerva answered.

“Good. If you still have a headache after lunch, I’ll fetch you some potion – unless you’d like it now?” When Minerva shook her head, Quin continued, “Then I’ll give you your present.” He reached behind himself and picked up the package he had left at the foot of the bed.

Minerva sat up and began to unwrap it. “Robes?”

Quid stood and said, “Nothin’ fancy. Just somethin’ to cover yourself and so you don’t have to wear the same clothes tomorrow as you did today. There’s a nightgown, slippers, and dressing gown there, too. Just plain off-the-rack stuff, but I think everythin’ will fit you, and if not, you’re talented with Transfiguration. I, um, didn’t know what to do about underthings . . . I hope you don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Quin. This is very nice.”

Minerva looked at the day robes, which were on top. They were a pretty pale green with a pale yellow under robe that was meant to show beneath it. They were not precisely what she would have chosen for herself, but they were fine. The nightgown, though, was something else. She thought she would be too warm in it. It was flannel, with long sleeves and a high neckline. Minerva couldn’t imagine what shop would be selling winter nightgowns in the middle of August. But a Transfiguration would fix it. She could make it into a light batiste and lower the neckline. It would be fine. The dressing gown, on the other hand, was gorgeous; silk, cool and soft, in a rich emerald green, a diamond design woven through the fabric, with wide, floaty sleeves, and a special wand pocket. Minerva smiled.

“I love the dressing gown, Quin. I’ll enjoy wearing that even later.” She looked up at him, smiling.

“Good, I’m glad. I’m off to make lunch now. Got a nice piece o’ cod. Hope there’s nothin’ you can’t eat . . . I’m after makin’ one o’ me mother’s recipes. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

---

Next: “Comfort and Consolation” 15 -16 August 1957.

[muriel2532]

Wow! After bashing Albus for his behaviour towards Minerva in the last chapter I now feel like awarding a medal to Quin for his empathy and his restraint despite Minerva's advances towards him. She is hurt, confused and in desperate need of love, but Quin is quite right that it's not his love and affection she will want in the long run. She might want these things at the moment but her judgement is obscured by the loss she feels concerning Albus. If both Quin and Minerva were to act upon their current desires I think it might end up hurting Quin more than Minerva. For she will find happiness with Albus eventually. And there is no need to trample on Quin's feelings just to forget her unhappy interlude with Albus.

I hope that Minerva does not make any further advances towards Quin. I would feel awful for him if she did and he gave in to her, possibly falling in love with her entirely. For his love would then be as doomed as Minerva believes her love to be.

I'm looking forward to the next chapter and maybe to some insight into Albus' current state of mind (and heart).

[Hogwarts Duo]

My heart is absolutely breaking for Minerva…and for Albus, though he doesn’t appear in this chapter. To think that Minerva truly believes Albus loves her as nothing more than a granddaughter and perhaps views her as nothing more than a sex-starved harlot shattered my heart into pieces.

“And how could he not know that now, Quin? I wish he didn’t . . . he must think me some sex-starved harlot, throwing myself at him as I did,” Minerva said, her voice breaking. “He was appalled.”

“At his self, his own behaviour, Minerva – ”

I truly believe that Quin is onto something here. Albus has spent so many months denying his worth and even suppressing his desires for Minerva so it’s very easy to believe that his reaction had more to do with his own “issues” instead of viewing her as anything but wonderful. With any luck, Quin can convince Minerva that there’s still hope and that perhaps she’s got the wrong end of the wand in this case. I can only imagine what Albus is going through at this moment. I’m sure he’s having a rather difficult time of it himself, dealing with his emotions…sniff sniff.

Minerva must be incredibly heartbroken as well, not to mention vulnerable, as Quin said. I do believe that if the circumstances were different and Minerva came to him of her own free will and with no attachments to the heart, he would be most interested in her kisses. And let me just tell you…that was so hard to read. I understand the emotions swirling around Minerva and even Quin, for that matter, but it’s hard to read Minerva initiating kisses with someone other than Albus, even though there wasn’t anything overtly romantic in them, more of a need to feel something other than pain. I do admire and appreciate Quin for keeping his boundaries intact and for realizing what Minerva did and did not need in this instance. I thought it was absolutely hilarious when he returned with a flannel night gown for Minerva, knowing probably that it was indeed too warm for that time of year and that she most likely feel more comfortable in something else. I'm glad he gave her the gown and let her transfigure it into whatever she felt appropriate. That was very thoughtful of him and no doubt it kept him from picking something that might lead her to think he had other intentions aside from being her friend.

I’m really hoping that Quin can get Minerva to calm down and think more rationally about what happened and maybe someone will help Albus with his grief too. In times of crisis, it’s always comforting to have great friends upon which you can rely and know that they’re looking out for your best interests, even when you don’t seem to have the strength or willpower to do it yourself.

Thanks for the quick update, even though it was a sad and difficult chapter to read. And as always, I’m looking forward to the next chapter!!

Cheers,
The GLM