Resolving a Misunderstanding (complete)

[MMADfan]

minerva62 said:

Oh, that was sooo lovely!

I admire the many details of this chapter - the pieces of music at the concert, the dishes at Delancie's which brought up my appetite - everything so thoughtfully described.

It reminds me of the chapter "If This Were a Date" - and this really was a date....I love the recurrence of the gipsy......

I had to smile about Trudy's reaction to Albus....."Finally!" - well, we had an assumption that she knew about Albus' and Minerva's feelings, but that she had performed Arithmantic calculations about the two.... ;D....wonderful....

And I agree with Hogwarts Duo, Albus is quite in character and the perfect gentleman leaving Minerva at her door.....I did not expect anything else for their first date, but nonetheless I felt (with Minerva) a little pang in my stomach.......*longing sigh*

Do I have to mention that I'm looking forward for an update?

I'm very glad you enjoyed it! I can't take credit for the selection of musical pieces, however, as I presume that was Swarowsky's own decision. (I do like to occasionally throw in a bit of the real world when I can -- like the Toddlers' Truce, the name of which still makes me laugh -- and this concert was a bit of the real world that seemed amenable for use! Minerva and Albus got together just in time to attend! *grin*) I did come up with the menu at Delancie's, though!

I am sure the gypsy was pleased to see the unusual couple again in his circuit -- someone who spoke his own language, and who didn't act as though he barely existed, and the pretty young woman at his side -- and he no doubt had confirmed any suspicions he may have had that the couple was something a bit "unusual," given the comparative length of Albus's beard and hair only three weeks apart! lol A canny fellow! And always prepared for the slightly outré!

Albus does try to be a gentleman and considerate, as well as romantic.

Glad you and everyone seems to be enjoying the first "official" date! And that folks appreciate Minerva's new appreciation for Gertrude, not to mention sharing Minerva's irritation with Melina. Albus, of course, merely found her amusing. On the other hand, if she had tried to invite herself along to the concert, I am sure he would have found some way of gently discouraging that notion in her! haha!

Thanks, everyone, for your comments. ;D I am looking forward to hearing others, of course, between now and the next chappie, which I hope will please, as well.

FYI, I'll likely post the next chapter either Friday evening or Saturday morning, EST. In the meantime, you might like to read "The Unsentimental Arithmancer," which seems less than wildly popular over these parts , but which folk elsewhere seemed to find fairly enjoyable. Maybe because it's been stuck in the hinterlands called "Somewhat ADMM-Related." *scratches head in puzzlement*

[minerva62]

mmadfan said:

I did come up with the menu at Delancie's, though!

Very well done! Do you have any recipes by chance?

[MMADfan]

Note: Because of mature content & language, this version of the chapter is edited. The full, unexpurgated version of the chapter is available in the Lemons forum.

Posted in three parts because of length.

CXLII: Love Beyond Disbelief

Minerva awoke and immediately rolled from her bed and headed for the bathroom, stripping off her nightgown as she went. After a quick shower, she selected her tartan and grey robes. She hoped that they were something that Albus liked. She would have to ask him whether there were any robes of hers that he found ugly, as she did his grey, ruffled ones. Those looked like one of her grandmother’s dressing gowns. If her grandmother had the bad taste to wear something that ugly.

As she put her hair up in a French twist, Minerva thought that she really oughtn’t have said what she had about those robes, but he had been wearing them in public. She couldn’t let him go out looking like that. If it were just that they weren’t to her taste, that would be something entirely different, but she was sure that no one who saw Albus in those robes could help but notice how ugly they were. She wouldn’t even dress a child in something with such a big floppy collar.

Minerva wondered about jewellery, almost selecting her silver jonquils, but she remembered that the last time she had worn them was the night she had stayed at Quin’s and had returned the next morning to doppelganger-Albus. It was highly unlikely that seeing the jewellery on her would incite a reappearance of the doppelganger, she thought with a smile, but there was no point in reminding either of them of that occasion. Instead, she chose the amber necklace she had bought for herself when she was living in Germany. As she fastened it around her neck, Minerva thought that it must have been jealousy that had caused Albus to be so cold to her that morning she returned from Quin’s. He had wanted to apologise, though – that very day, even – but events had conspired to prevent his letter from reaching her and then to prevent him from apologising in person, and then the next day . . . Minerva sighed. Now she understood the horror on his face better. He had believed that he had overstepped some invisible line he had drawn for himself, and that he had mistreated her and she would be upset with him for that. So when she left the castle, Albus no doubt believed it was because of what he had done, and that she had been unable to accept his apology.

Minerva had found the crumpled letter the previous day. She had thought to destroy it, but then instead, she had smoothed it out, though she had not reread it – it was too soon for that – and she had put it away with all of his other letters. Someday she might want to read it again, as a part of her history with Albus. Even that letter, as devastating as it had been, had played a role in their overcoming their misunderstanding and becoming . . . whatever it was they were becoming. Minerva still didn’t know. A couple, at any rate. She wondered whether he had kept the letter that he had originally written to apologise for taking her to task for not returning to the school until morning. She would ask. If he had it, she would like to read it and keep it with the others.

It was eight o’clock when she stepped into her sitting room. Minerva still loved the furniture and the colours. It was hard to believe that the wizard who had orchestrated the decoration of her rooms was the same one who thought the grey ruffled robes were in any way sartorially acceptable. She laughed to herself. Perhaps they were some kind of peculiar penance for him.

Albus had done so many wonderful things for her yesterday; having him to breakfast prepared and served by her Hogwarts house-elf seemed puny in comparison. He had done such lovely little things for her all summer, when doppelganger-Albus hadn’t interfered. The special torte from Madam Puddifoot’s . . . the huge vase of flowers he had brought with him to breakfast that first time . . . the fresh flowers awaiting her when she had returned from her parents . . . the picnic overlooking Hogwarts . . . the rose for her hair. She couldn’t think of how she had repaid him at all – of course, she had celebrated his birthday with him. And given him those robes he looked so wonderful in. Minerva chuckled, thinking of how Wilspy had left him only those robes to wear. The ways of house-elves were mysterious, but it had been nice that Albus had been wearing them that night when she had come back to the school. Still, she would have to think of nice things to do for him, too, though they would, of necessity, be somewhat different from his gestures toward her. Perhaps one of the things she could do would be to convince him that she would never shy from his touch in some kind of disgust. Surely, he must be able to see how much she enjoyed his kisses and what few caresses he had bestowed on her.

Minerva shook her head. Quin was probably right: his time with Valerianna Yaxley must have something to do with this peculiar attitude. It was one thing to worry about the age difference between them before she had demonstrated her interest in him, but for Albus to worry that she would dislike the “reality” of his touch, as he had put it, that was something entirely different. For such a normally confident and powerful wizard, it was sad to see. She would have to do all she could to ensure he realised how very attractive she found him but without making him uncomfortable, either.

Minerva hoped that Albus would be on time that morning – she didn’t think he would be late if he could help it, but he might oversleep if he were very tired. Time would go very slowly until he arrived, though. She sighed and tried to relax on the settee, imagining Albus, in his tower above her, getting ready for their breakfast together.

Albus rose shortly before seven-thirty, accepting his first cup of tea from Wilspy and sitting on the edge of his bed, sipping it. He was looking forward to breakfast with Minerva, but he was nervous, too. The previous afternoon as he had waited for Minerva to return from Hogsmeade, he had been nervous, as well, but he had busied himself in his office and with the arrangements for their evening out. There was no reason to believe that Minerva wouldn’t enjoy going to a concert and then to dinner, and little that could go wrong, really, but he had been slightly worried, nonetheless. This morning, though, he was even more nervous than he had been while waiting for Minerva the day before.

Albus was not generally prone to nervousness. He did worry about things, of course, but this general, vague nervousness was unusual for him. He wondered briefly if it indicated that there was something wrong with him courting Minerva if it engendered such nervousness in him, but he quickly dismissed that notion. If there were anything wrong with his courting her, his nervousness was no barometer of it, he was sure. No, his nervousness stemmed from his uncertainty about how Minerva would feel about him today, how he should behave around her, what he should say and what he should do. He had been nervous before Minerva returned from Hogsmeade, he reminded himself, and the evening had turned out quite well despite that.

Albus smiled, thinking of how lovely it had been to hold Minerva, knowing that he could continue to hold her and that if he let her go, he could hold her again. And he didn’t need to chide himself for it, as he had done in the past, nor for enjoying the feel of her soft, feminine curves as he held her. The night when Minerva had returned to the castle, his letter and poem in her hand, even after she had said that she loved him and he felt relief wash over him, he had worried that her feelings for him did not approach the strength of his for her: it seemed impossible to him that she could love him with the degree of ardour that he held for her. He did not disbelieve her when she said that she loved him, and there was such joy in her eyes when she looked upon him with the realisation that he loved her, that Albus could only believe that she was, indeed, in love with him, just as she said, and not merely fond of him and humouring him out of that sense of fondness. And when she told him how much she enjoyed his kisses, his heart had beat faster, both from excitement and anxiety.

Why should it cause him anxiety if she enjoyed his kisses and wanted more of them? Albus had thought that his demonstration of how the Headmaster would kiss the Head of Gryffindor was certainly a test, and not of his restraint, but of whether he could please Minerva, at least with his kisses. Oh, how he loved to kiss her, and how he loved seeing that she enjoyed it when he did!

But would she still want him to kiss her in a day or a week or a month? Albus could not help but see that she seemed to feel passionately for him, that she appeared to desire him physically, but would that outlast the first flush of happiness that she felt now? If he had ever wondered about whether Minerva had ever had a lover – and he had wondered occasionally whether any of her romances had become that intimate – he no longer did. It seemed clear that she was not inexperienced in that way. He certainly could not hold it against her, of course; she was an adult witch. It would be unreasonable of him to expect her to have remained . . . he disliked the term “pure.” Minerva was pure, certainly, in all the ways that mattered to him. But celibate, perhaps that was a better word. No, it would be unreasonable of him to expect celibacy of her, and he didn’t. If she had been romantically involved with a wizard, he could certainly understand her engaging in the intimacies that might naturally arise between a man and a woman under those circumstances. And she was independent. It was one of the things he valued in her.

Albus sighed and put down his teacup. He wouldn’t lie to himself. He was unsure whether it would have been better for him if she were inexperienced. Perhaps not so inexperienced that she might be . . . frightened by intimacy, of course. But she would now have a basis for comparison. And he very much doubted that, unless she had a peculiar fetish for ancient wizards, Minerva had ever been with a wizard as old as he. And yet so pathetically, woefully lacking in recent experience, himself, despite his age. Or even very much experience at all, really, aside from the period in his youth that he had shut off from his mind – what he could have remembered of it, anyway.

There had been Gertie, Albus reminded himself. And they had made love both tenderly and passionately, and he had believed at the time that she had enjoyed it. But even if she had . . . there was still the matter of his age. Of course, it wasn’t as though Gertrude was as old as he. She had been quite a young witch when he had first met her, and he was well past middle age at the time – he had been seventy-six, almost seventy-seven at the time, and she, only a girl of twenty. Yet they had known each other almost a quarter of a century when they first became lovers, and at that time, Gertrude was older than Minerva was now by a dozen years or so. And he had only become older in the intervening time, and no more attractive, nor more experienced. Not that he would wish to have taken lovers during those years simply to have gained skill in bed, of course. That was a ridiculous notion, and he certainly would not use women in that way. But it still meant that in the years during which he was becoming older, less attractive, and less virile, Minerva was making love to strong, attractive young men at their peak. He could scarcely imagine that she was attracted to him at all, even now, and he couldn’t think what it would be about him that attracted her. Perhaps she did feel some . . . duty or obligation to engage with him physically if they were to be romantically involved. She could surely feel the indications of his own desire. It could be that she felt she had to provide him with physical intimacy. Perhaps she wasn’t truly attracted to him at all, but it was merely out of a romantic love that she wished to make him happy.

Albus had made himself well and truly depressed by the time he stood up and went into the bathroom to take his shower. Either she truly believed she was attracted to him, but would be disgusted once she was confronted by his ancient body and his withered touch, or her desire for him was based only on her love for him and her wish for him to be happy, but not on any true physical yearning. As he showered, Albus told himself that it was all the more reason for him to maintain a chaste romance for now, and to remind Minerva that he would not hold her if she desired someone else. But at the thought of her turning from him and going to some other wizard, his stomach clenched in knots.

This was ridiculous, Albus told himself as he stood beneath the spray of warm water and began to wash. He was creating problems that were not there – not yet, anyway. He should allow himself to enjoy this time with Minerva, and to do all he could to have her enjoy it, as well. And even if he were rather pathetic in the sexual arena, he could still do what he could for her, be mindful of her and of her needs. As long as those needs didn’t involve another man. He clenched his teeth. No, even if she needed someone else, someone different, he would let her go. He didn’t think he could bear it, but he knew, too, that Minerva was honest, and if she wanted to be with someone different, she would tell him and break it off. She would not pretend to him that she still was in love with him, that he was the wizard she wanted, and then run after another wizard. Albus was absolutely certain of that much, at least. He had known Minerva for so long and knew her so well, he could trust her in that. She might still break his heart in leaving him, but she wouldn’t discard him carelessly, nor would she have an affair behind his back.

Albus sighed and turned on the wall jets. It was a sigh of relief. Minerva was Minerva and would remain so. And he would do all he could to bring her pleasure and happiness for as long as she wanted him. If eventually that meant making love to her . . . not just making love as he had done with his kisses and tentative caresses, but if it meant more than that, he would try to go slowly and please her, and hope that he would not see a shadow of disgust cross her face or feel her shy from his touch. She hadn’t pulled away from his touches and kisses up till now, and he was sure that she had enjoyed it when he had kissed the nape of her neck the previous morning. But she hadn’t seen him. Still, the sensation of his lips hadn’t repulsed her, and she had seemed to enjoy the few more passionate kisses they had shared.

Albus looked down at his body as he washed. It wasn’t what it had been when he was a young man, of course, but still, at least his stomach was relatively flat, though perhaps not as taut and muscular as it had once been, even a dozen years ago. Too many years of sitting behind a desk, now that he spent most of his time at the school or the Ministry. But his legs, he thought as he soaped them, they were still muscular and fit. The many stairs at Hogwarts helped with that, although he probably didn’t walk as much as he should. His chest was more spare than it used to be, less well-muscled, but still as broad, and at least he hadn’t gone all to fat or bone. Perhaps he should be more attentive to his physical fitness. Remembering his Vitamin Potion every night would be a good start.

Washing his hair and his beard, Albus thought again about whether he might not look younger without them, but Minerva had seemed shocked when he had used the Glamour, and had said that she had always liked them. He would simply ask her what she thought, he decided. If she thought he would look younger and more attractive with short hair and a well-trimmed, short beard, then he would make the change. But it could be that she genuinely liked his hair and beard for some reason, and he wouldn’t want to do anything to make himself less attractive to her! But attractive to her or not, Minerva was certainly quite attractive to him. He had tried to be gentlemanly, but he was sure that she had noticed.

He should try to rein himself in more, Albus thought. Not make his own desire quite so evident, perhaps. He shouldn’t in any way make Minerva feel that she was obligated to satisfy his physical needs. Eventually, of course, Minerva’s own physical needs would raise the question of further intimacy. While he desired her passionately, he believed that if she wanted a chaste relationship, he could quite easily accept that. In fact, it might be a relief if she did – she couldn’t compare him negatively to other lovers if they were to remain chaste. But that in itself would be unfair to her. If she had had other lovers, then surely that indicated she had the needs of a healthy young witch, and, as he had said to her, a vital young witch needed and deserved a vital wizard.

Albus stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. He felt as though he simply kept moving in circles. The only thing to do was dress and go to breakfast and try to behave normally and not be obsessed with all of the ways in which he might fall short of what Minerva needed or deserved. If he were to think of that, he shouldn’t stop at worries over physical intimacy, but go on to worry about the normal family life that every young witch deserved and which he could not give her. He didn’t even really have a home to bring her to, just his tiny cottage on its rocky island. While he had always found it pleasing, it was not the sort of place that he would envision bringing Minerva. He wished for the first time in over two years that he had kept the other cottage rather than giving it to his brother. It was, of course, still somewhat isolated out on the Dales, but it was larger, more comfortable, and it had a certain charm to it. He had lived there for many years before coming to Hogwarts; it had been his home for decades. But he hadn’t used it very much since he began teaching, and so even aside from the fiasco with Valerianna, it made much more sense for his brother to have it. Aberforth had even connected it up to the Floo Network, something that Albus had never done, and he went home to his goats and few sheep every night. Wilspy reported that they had done a lot of work while she was with Aberforth and Albus was on his holiday. His brother was happy there and taking good care of the place. No, whether it had been an ill-considered decision or not, he had given the cottage to Aberforth and now it was his.

Albus went to his wardrobe and looked through his robes. He had once again managed to demoralise himself, and he was dispirited as he pulled out the sky blue robes he had worn to breakfast several weeks before, with the over-robe with its puffy, floating clouds. He should be looking forward to breakfast with Minerva even more than he had on that earlier morning, but he only felt inadequate and nervous. That was a miserable combination.

He dressed methodically, remembering that Minerva was likely looking forward to seeing him – he hoped she was, though of course, she could have had a change of heart overnight – but nonetheless, he should not arrive looking as though he were attending a funeral. He pulled on a pair of short, soft leather boots, breathing a charm as he did so, making them match the blue of his under-robe. Hat or no hat, he pondered. None. It was more modern and stylish to go without. Although it would cover some of his grey hair . . . that thought, however, made Albus chuckle at himself. He really was being ridiculous. If that were a concern, why, he could just put a sack over his head and cut a few holes so he could eat and see! He laughed to himself.

What he really needed was Fawkes. A few minutes with Fawkes, and he would be himself again, or at least he would have a brighter outlook on things. But Fawkes had taken off for a bit of adventure after delivering the letter to Paul the previous afternoon, and so he would just have to cheer himself up. He certainly did not want Minerva to think that he didn’t want to have breakfast with her. No, he did. It was an opportunity to court her, even though the invitation had been hers. Albus wished he had flowers to bring her, or something else, but he had nothing but himself. Not even sweets.

At that thought, however, he remembered the large hamper that Quin had sent him for his birthday. The hamper was charmed to keep the contents fresh for months, and it had only been a couple of weeks. Albus hurried into his study where the large basket sat beside the small desk. After looking through the various sweets, he selected a small box of truffles that looked rather nice and as though it might be something that Minerva would like. He was just about to close the lid when he saw something else: dark chocolate-covered cherries filled with cherry liqueur. That seemed even more like something that Minerva would enjoy, and he picked that up, as well.

Despite having taken his time getting ready and being preoccupied by his worries, Albus found himself ten minutes early as he stood outside Minerva’s door. He hesitated. She might still be dressing. Arriving earlier than one was expected was generally not a good idea, but to do so first thing in the morning could be quite rude. As he considered what to do during the ten minutes that remained, though, the Silent Knight spoke.

“Good morning! You are here to see my mistress? Would you prefer to be announced?” he asked.

“I am early,” Albus explained. “I thought I would come back – ”

“Nonsense! I shall announce you straightaway! My lady will be pleased with your arrival, I do believe.” Without waiting for a response from Albus, the Knight strode out of the portrait. Fidelio sat and grinned at him with a happy doggie smile, his tail thumping, a far different animal from the one who had snarled at him just a few days before.

Albus had barely time to ponder the idiosyncrasies of Minerva’s door portrait when the door opened to him. Minerva was crossing the room to him, a bright smile on her face. Her smile was infectious, and her pleasure at seeing him lifted his spirits immediately. As he stepped into the room, Minerva put her arms around him.

“I am so glad to see you! You probably think me very foolish, Albus, but I have missed you terribly, even though it’s only been a few hours since we saw each other, and I was asleep for most of them.” She settled into his embrace and sighed. “I am very glad you are a little early, too. I thought I would go mad watching the clock move more and more slowly as I waited for you!”

Albus chuckled and nuzzled her hair. “And I am very glad to see you, my dear. Especially to see you looking so happy.”

“All due to you, Albus, all due to you,” she said. She ran her hand down his back feeling the silky material of his over-robe. “And you are wearing some of my favourite robes, too. I shall quite enjoy looking at you if I can ever manage to let go of you long enough to do so.”

Albus’s heart sang. He didn’t need Fawkes to cheer him up. He had Minerva, and her embrace, her words, her mere presence were enough. He could almost forget his worries and his nervousness about being with her.

“And you are looking very pretty this morning, too. I like this grey and tartan robe. I remember you wore it to lunch the day of the staff meeting earlier this summer. I wanted to tell you then how pretty you looked in it, but sitting there with Professor Dustern on my other side, it didn’t seem appropriate.”

Minerva leaned back and smiled up at him. “Do you remember every robe I own and every time I’ve worn it?”

Albus laughed at that. “I doubt it. But I do notice when you are looking particularly lovely, although that is often, and I have enjoyed seeing you looking pretty even when I felt constrained from telling you.”

She stroked her fingers over his cheek and down over his beard. She smiled, looking into his eyes, and she said, “Will you give me a good-morning kiss, Albus? A proper good-morning kiss? I enjoyed the first one yesterday morning very much.”

Albus leaned in and kissed Minerva’s lips lightly, allowing the minty-fresh charm to tingle across his lips to her mouth. He had been going to pull back immediately, but Minerva’s hand went to the back of his neck, her fingers combed through his hair, and she prolonged the kiss, her mouth moving against his, her breath on his face, her lips meeting his again and again, and he let out a soft moan. Forgetting all of his resolve, he embraced Minerva more fully, pulling her against him.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLII: Love Beyond Disbelief, continued

Finally, Minerva gave him one more gentle but sensuous kiss, then rested her head against his chest. She sighed and turned her head, kissing his chest through his beard, then she said, her voice muffled as she nuzzled his beard, “I think our breakfast has arrived.”

Albus softly kissed the top of her head, then looked over it and saw that the table was laid and breakfast was served.

“Your house-elf has become quite efficient,” he remarked. “Barely a sound made.”


“I will tell her that the Headmaster was pleased,” Minerva said, reluctantly stepping from his warm embrace, but not entirely letting him go. “She will appreciate that. She’ll probably bounce up and down on her toes.” Minerva laughed, a light sound that brought another smile to Albus’s face. “She is actually quite cute when she does that,” she added.

Minerva stood back and looked Albus up and down. “I do love those robes. I remember when you wore them last time, how I could scarcely keep myself from staring at you, they are so attractive on you.” She looked back up and met his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind my saying things like that. Perhaps it isn’t very ladylike. But you have such a fine figure,” she said with a slight blush, “and these robes certainly do allow me to appreciate it, especially with the cummerbund.”

Albus could feel the warmth rising in his own cheeks. “No, um, of course not, I don’t mind,” he said, trying to sound less embarrassed than he felt. At the same time, his heart beat faster as the confused thought went through his mind that Minerva found his figure attractive.

“I must also admit,” Minerva said, looking away quickly, then back up at him, as if embarrassed by what she was about to say, “that when you fell asleep on my couch, I took the opportunity to admire you. I never dreamed then that I would ever be able to do anything other than admire you from a distance.” She reached out and touched his shoulder then ran a hand down over his chest, all while looking into his bright blue eyes. “Or receive anything more than a brief, friendly embrace. Each time you held me, I told myself that it was the last time for a long while. And every time that you held me again, I would pray that you might begin to feel for me the way I felt for you, that you would come to love me, but then . . . we would part, and I would not know whether my hopes were foolish and in vain. It still seems incredible that you do love me. I . . . I don’t feel as though I deserve you, Albus. You are so much more than any witch could deserve, and I don’t know how I could be the one to be this lucky. You seemed so far beyond my reach. It seemed very presumptuous of me to even entertain the notion.”

“Beyond your reach? Presumptuous? I . . . I would think just the opposite,” Albus said, surprised. “You are so young, with such a bright future ahead of you, and so beautiful, and witty, and attractive . . . with so much vitality and intelligence. Surely any wizard would be thrilled and consider himself the most fortunate of men if you wanted to spend any time with him at all.”

“But you aren’t just any wizard, Albus. You are the one I love,” Minerva answered, leading him over to the breakfast table, “and you are so much more powerful than I am, and I may be bright enough, I suppose, but you are brilliant. Not to mention how very attractive you are. I am grateful, though surprised, that you are even available. I can’t believe that you aren’t already with someone, that some wonderful, warm, elegant, and very lucky witch didn’t find you before I could.”

Albus shook his head. “I think . . . I think I was waiting for you, Minerva,” he said very softly. “For years. Before I even could have had any awareness that you might exist. Even before . . . well, a very long time ago. I think that you were always the one, always. And even if you no longer loved me, or wanted me, you would still be the one. But I will never hold you too tightly, I promise you.”

Minerva put her arms around him again and said with a grin, “You could never hold me too tightly, Albus. Although if you do, all I will do is let out a little squawk. I promise you that. You will never lose my love. Never.”

Albus rested his head on hers, closing his eyes. “You do not know what you are promising, my dear. But I do love you.” He held his breath, waiting for her response.

“You have no idea how happy I feel when you tell me that you love me, Albus. As for what I know and do not know . . . I am too happy now to be upset with you for thinking as you do about that. But someday you will understand how I feel and you will believe my promise. Indeed, you will see that my promise is superfluous, as I speak only of what will be, of what must be. I will just have to be patient in the meantime.” She raised her head and looked at him, a soft smile on her face. “You do know, though, that I love you.”

“Yes,” Albus whispered, “I do know that. And I do believe it.” I believe despite myself, he thought. I believe because you look at me as you do and because your despair met mine when you fled the castle. And I believe because not to believe would be too painful. “I do believe you.” He kissed her softly on the forehead.

Minerva brought her hands to his face, caressing him gently. “I am glad of that. And now for breakfast?” she said with a smile.

Albus grinned and said, “Yes, breakfast. You did invite me to breakfast, after all. I suppose I should be a well-behaved guest and eat!”

“Only if you want to, Albus. I would not be a very good hostess if I were to force you to eat when you did not want to,” Minerva said as she sat in the chair he held for her.

“That reminds me!” Albus exclaimed. “I am a negligent guest, after all.” He reached into his pockets and drew out the two small boxes of chocolates, one in each hand. “For you, my dear. From my birthday basket. I thought these might be some that you would enjoy.”

“Thank you, Albus! But you didn’t need to bring anything – ”

“I felt badly that I didn’t have any flowers or anything else, and then I thought you might like these. Not for breakfast, obviously.”

“Chocolate liqueur cherries! I do like those, and the truffles look lovely, as well. But you mustn’t go about giving away all of your birthday sweets and not enjoy them yourself,” Minerva said.

“I have enjoyed some of them already, but there is enough there to make me quite fat and indolent, if I were to eat them as freely as I might like. And as a certain special person has told me, I must look after myself,” he said with a smile. He sat down and patted his stomach. “And now knowing that she believes that I have a fine figure, I suppose I should try to actually work on it,” he added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Minerva laughed. “I hadn’t intended those two remarks to go together, you know, Albus. I think you look fine, and if you weren’t already very fit, you would have made yourself quite sick, the way you work so hard and neglect your health. I hope you don’t mind my fussing just a little. I can’t seem to help myself.”

“No, Mother McGonagall, I am happy to have you fuss – a little!” At her smile, he added, “As long as you don’t try to ration my sweets!”

“Never – I assume you are quite capable of doing that yourself. Although I think that if you get enough sleep and eat well, perhaps you won’t feel quite as inclined to indulge,” Minerva said as she passed him a bowl of fruit.

“You actually are right about that,” Albus answered, helping himself to some of the fruit. “I do have a sweet tooth, but I find it is worse when I am overtired and I feel I need to have a little boost to get through the day. Or through a particularly trying session of the Wizengamot.”

They had a very pleasant breakfast, and Minerva told Albus more about her visit with Quin the previous day, saying that Quin had appreciated his letter and mentioning that he planned on buying a set of schoolbooks for himself. She also told him about the unusual pledge that Quin had made, and the reference to “binding his heart”; Albus looked serious for a moment as he thought about what Minerva said, but then his face softened as he smiled, saying that he knew Quin to be a gentleman, and that they should both be honoured by the pledge, and that he was pleased to know that Quin would be her friend and support if he himself were unavailable. As they chatted, Albus relaxed and enjoyed himself, forgetting his nervousness. This was Minerva, his dear Minerva, and she loved him. It had been silly to have such jitters, he thought. And she hadn’t pressed him about anything physical, but she had been demonstrative, nonetheless, still welcoming his kisses and embraces and initiating some herself.

They moved over to the sitting area, bringing their teacups with them, and she curled up on the settee next to him.

“You know, Albus, I’ve been thinking . . .”

“Yes, my dear?” he answered, taking a final sip of tea before setting down the cup and saucer on the table beside him and putting his arm around Minerva.

“If Gertrude knows now, and my parents, and if Malcolm will be teaching here this year – if he actually follows through with a written application – I think it might be wise to say something to him. I don’t know what, precisely, but it just seems that it might be odd for Gertrude, if she thinks she can’t say anything to him about it. Or she may not even realise that we are being cautious about whom we tell and mention it to him, anyway. Then he will think it strange that I haven’t said anything to him, particularly since we both obviously know about his relationship with Gertrude.”

Albus nodded. “If you would like, Minerva, you may say something to him. I think that is fine, very sensible.”

Minerva let out a breath and relaxed against him. She must have been concerned about his reaction to her suggestion, he realised. He kissed her temple.

“I do wish to be discreet, Minerva, but not completely secretive with those who are closest to us. I hope that you understand.”

“Of course,” Minerva answered. “And that’s fine. It is probably best for me to continue to behave as I always have around you when we are in public. And although I think that it would be nice if we could tell all of our friends and family right away, that can wait. I am just so happy to be with you, I sometimes wish everyone could know, that’s all.”

Albus gave her a squeeze. “And I do appreciate that, but . . . aren’t you . . . don’t you . . . that is, do you, would you be embarrassed? Particularly if it doesn’t last?” he asked quietly.

Minerva sat up and looked at him, an expression of concern on her face. “What do you mean, ‘if it doesn’t last’?” she asked. “You just told me this morning that you love me and that you always will. I feel the same. We may have problems at certain points, or disagreements, but we have only just begun to see each other and you are already concerned that it might not last? And as to being embarrassed . . . are you embarrassed, Albus? Embarrassed to be seen with me? Is that the actual problem?”

“I just . . . it is still hard for me to believe the reality of it all, I suppose. It doesn’t feel as though I deserve this happiness. I believed it all too late for me, that any time for me to have this kind of happiness had long since passed me by. And as to being embarrassed . . . I am not embarrassed the way that you might think. It is not on your account, not being with you. But – and not that I particularly care what people think, of course – people might feel sorry for you and believe me to be a foolish old man – ”

“Oh, Albus! I do wish you could see yourself as I do, and such thoughts would never enter your head. And of course you deserve this happiness!” Minerva put her arms around him and leaned against him. “You know that I love you. I feel very lucky to be with you. It is not at all foolish for you to want to be with me if you love me, too. And as to your age, you are as old as you are, with all the life lived that goes with that age, but you are far from being a decrepit old codger, as you sometimes speak of yourself.” Minerva rubbed her hand over his chest and shoulder. “You are strong, vital, attractive, and very much alive, my darling Albus. Don’t feel you can’t voice any of your worries to me, but do expect me to give you an honest response. I can understand that you might be concerned about the age difference, but my mother once said that it wasn’t the differences that mattered as much as what two people have in common and how they work out their differences.”

Albus sighed. “Thank you, my dear. I will endeavour to keep your words in mind.”

The conversation turned to other topics, then Albus finally said, “I do dislike leaving you, Minerva, and I wish we could remain here for the rest of the day, but I probably ought to get back to my office.”

“But it’s Sunday,” Minerva began, protesting.

“Yes, but I did almost no work at all last week, and it didn’t take care of itself,” Albus replied.

“Can we take a walk first, though? Spend the rest of the morning together, then work in the afternoon?” Minerva suggested. “I have some things I need to do, myself, actually, some letters to write, and I want to finish my plans for the start of the year.”

Albus nodded. “Very well!” He smiled. “You are very persuasive.”

“It didn’t take much to change your mind,” Minerva said with a smile. “Let me get my cloak, then we can go out.”

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLII: Love Beyond Disbelief, continued

Later at lunch, Minerva was uncertain whether she was disappointed or not that Malcolm wasn’t present. It had seemed lately that whenever Gertrude was at a meal, Malcolm was, as well. Of course, Minerva had been gone from the castle for a while. Perhaps things had changed between the two in the meantime. But Albus had said the previous evening that Gertrude was in love with Malcolm, so any changes couldn’t be dramatic. It wasn’t as though he were a member of the staff yet, and he did have things to take care of, Minerva was sure, though she had no idea what those might be. He did have his own flat, too.

After lunch, Albus walked Minerva back to Gryffindor Tower and left her at her door.

“I look forward to seeing you at dinner, my dear,” he said. “I hope that you have a good afternoon.”

Minerva smiled. “It won’t be as nice as my morning, but I hope I will get a few things done. I feel as though I have been away for a long time.”

Albus touched her chin, tilting her face up toward him, then he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. His whisper met her lips as he said, “I had a most lovely morning, Minerva. Thank you,” then he kissed her again lightly.

He looked at her with warmth in his eyes. “I love you, my dear.”

Minerva scarcely had time to respond to his words when Albus backed away, then he smiled at her, gave her a happy wink, and was on his way, leaving Minerva feeling warm and happy.

The afternoon passed more quickly than Albus had anticipated, and he was pleased to be able to get through all of the work that had accumulated over the previous several days. He had chuckled when he read the letter that was waiting for him in the centre of his desk. He thought that Gertrude must have left it for him in the morning while he was with Minerva. This was one letter that he would have to share with Minerva. It certainly was the most interesting one he read that afternoon.

Albus met Minerva as she came down the stairs from the first floor, where she had apparently been working in her classroom office before dinner.

“How was your afternoon, my dear?” he asked as he waited for her to catch up with him.

“Productive,” she answered with a smile. “And yours?”

“The same,” he said.

“So . . . are you available this evening after dinner?”

Albus nodded. “In fact, I was rather hoping that you might join me for dessert this evening.”

“In your suite?” At his nod, Minerva smiled and said, “I believe I would enjoy that very much.”

The two entered the staff room to find Wilhelmina, Hagrid, and Gertrude already there. Johannes came through the door a few minutes later, and he quietly took the chair beside Minerva and began to help himself to some mashed potatoes. Minerva smiled at him.

“Did you just get back from Cardiff, Johannes?” she asked.

The German nodded. “It was a good week. Very pleasant. Some rain, of course, but generally nice weather.” He glanced over at Gertrude. “The company was pleasant, as well, although I am happy to be returned. Jack and his mother are good company, but five days can be a long time, and Jack’s . . . girlfriend was with us the last few days. A nice woman, but I do not know her well, and I sometimes felt as though I was intruding on their time together. I am returned a day early, in fact.”

“What of Jack’s mother?” Minerva asked, remembering that he had spoken of her several times.

Johannes shrugged one shoulder. “They have been making holiday there for many years, and she knows people there. She was not often with us. She took me with her sometimes . . . they had suggested I bring another friend, but there was no one available with whom I would care to spend such time,” he said. Minerva thought that she detected a movement of his head, as though he had been about to glance at Gertrude again, but had restrained himself.

Minerva held back a sigh. It was a pity that Johannes was unhappy about Gertrude’s relationship with Malcolm, but if they had taught side-by-side for over a decade and Gertrude still only wanted friendship with him, Minerva doubted that Malcolm’s entrance into the witch’s life had changed anything for Johannes except to make it completely clear that Gertrude would never be interested in anything more with him. She could see why, too, if Gertrude liked Malcolm, if he was her “type.” Johannes was warm, steady, highly intelligent, and quite handsome, too, with his high forehead, long, sandy hair, and grey-blue eyes, but he wasn’t at all like Malcolm temperamentally. He was certainly friendly and open, but in a much less brash manner than Malcolm was, and Johannes certainly was not prone to the kind of flamboyant story-telling that Malcolm was, let alone the kinds of activities that gave rise to Malcolm’s tales.

After dinner, which was less awkward than Minerva had feared it would be when Johannes had sat down next to her, she and Albus left the staff room together, he holding the door for her then shutting it quietly behind them. He offered his arm, which Minerva took, and the two walked up the broad staircase to the second floor. As soon as the gargoyle had admitted them to the stairway and had closed the door behind them, Albus put his arms around her as she stood on the step above him. Minerva smiled and gently touched his cheek, putting her other arm around his waist.

“You are looking very handsome this evening, Headmaster,” she said with a smile. She traced the line of his lips with one fingertip. “And very kissable.”

“Am I really?” Albus asked with a shy smile, his cheeks pink. It was both embarrassing and reassuring each time she said something like that. He looked into her eyes. In a low voice, he asked, “And how kissable would that be?”

Minerva’s answer came as her lips met his. She kissed him softly, pulling on his lips gently, then kissing first his top lip then his bottom lip, then turning her head and repeating her kisses again. She hummed in satisfaction as she took his bottom lip between her own and sucked it, tickling it with the tip of her tongue, then she parted her lips further and flicked her tongue between his lips as they arrived at the top of the stairs. She backed up, bringing Albus with her, never breaking her kiss, though now his head was above hers.

Albus opened his mouth further and tentatively met her tongue with his own; as he did so, he felt a jolt of pleasure pass through him, and he barely restrained himself from pressing Minerva hard against the door and thrusting his hips against her, displaying his desire for her. And so when Minerva pulled him closer and, on noticing his reaction, she held him more tightly to her, Albus was surprised. His mind was a fog of love and desire, but he kept his hands where they were, at her back, not allowing them to roam as they wished. He broke from the kiss to draw a breath, then he let his lips press against her forehead as he struggled to remain in control of himself.

“Quite kissable, you see, Albus,” Minerva whispered. “Quite kissable.”

They stood there for a few more moments, then Albus looked down into her eyes. “I do believe I invited you for dessert, however, and this is not the most convenient or comfortable place for that.”

Minerva smiled. “Rather nice for a kiss or two, though, isn’t it?” she asked as she ran a hand up and down his back, skimming his buttocks and upper thigh.

Albus drew in a sharp breath as he felt her hand travel over him, then he swallowed and said somewhat huskily, “Yes, rather.”

He blinked. He did not want to let her go, but he took one step back. With a wave of his hand, he opened the door, which swung open just a few inches.

“After you, my dear,” he said softly, returning Minerva’s smile as she slowly let him go.

They went up the brass spiral staircase, Albus opening the door at the landing for Minerva. As they entered his sitting room, he said, “I thought that we might take our dessert elsewhere this evening, as the weather is so fine.”

He grinned at her confusion, but before she could ask why they had gone all the way up to his suite if they were having dessert elsewhere, he placed a gentle finger on her lips and said, “Follow me, then, Minerva?”

Minerva kissed his fingertip and smiled as he took her arm. “Anywhere, Albus, anywhere at all.”

Albus grinned, his eyes gleaming, “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere – always, Albus.”

He chuckled and gave her a peck on the cheek, then led her across the room to the bedroom door. Rather to Minerva’s disappointment, however, they merely passed through it quickly, though remaining there would not fit with what he had suggested about the weather.

Albus sensed some hesitation on Minerva’s part as they crossed the bedroom, but did not know what to attribute it to. Perhaps she was just nervous about the dark, narrow stairway. As he opened the door to his backstairs, he said, “We won’t be going down this time, my dear, so do not worry.” He closed the door behind them, then said, “It is just as narrow going up, but it is not quite as closed in. Would you prefer to go first or to follow me up?”

Minerva turned to him happily. “Whichever you prefer, Albus.”

“Why don’t you go first, then, and I can catch you if you trip – not that you will,” he added hastily.

Minerva just laughed and started up the stairs. When they reached the top of the tower, Minerva turned and took Albus’s hand.

“I came up here, you know, looking for you. On Wednesday. I looked everywhere for you. It was as though you had vanished. That seems so long ago now, but . . .” She trailed off and looked away, off toward the Forbidden Forest, turning from him, and he could no longer see her face.

“But it still hurts, the memory is still painful for you,” Albus said softly. Minerva did not respond, and he put a warm hand on shoulder. “I am more sorry than I can say.”

“I know that, Albus,” Minerva replied, turning her head slightly toward him. “As am I. But I wish I had found you, that I hadn’t given up looking. Perhaps I would have found you and you would not have written that apology, perhaps we could have cleared things up sooner . . .”

Albus, standing slightly behind her, pulled her to him, one hand still on her shoulder, the other holding her from the front, resting on her stomach.

“I don’t know, Minerva . . . my state of mind then . . . I was scarcely able to think. I was so convinced that I had done the unforgivable, I don’t know . . . Even if you had found me, I don’t know if I could have heard anything other than my own guilt,” he said softly. “And it is not your fault. None of it is. Truly, my sweet love. Truly.” He nuzzled her hair.

Minerva leaned back against him. “Where did you go, Albus? Where?” she asked in a whisper. “That was the most dreadful part of all, even worse than the note, or the look on your face . . . that you disappeared and I could not find you. I thought I had lost you completely.”

“As I said, I was not thinking. I simply . . . left. I found myself at my old rooms in Gryffindor Tower, the ones I had for so many years. That is where I wrote the note,” he explained. “I was not intentionally hiding from you, although I was afraid of your gaze, of your censure and your disappointment. It was simply force of habit that carried me there.”

“So close. You were so close.” Tears came to her eyes, and although Albus could not see her face, he could hear them in her voice.

“Hush, hush, my love, my darling Minerva, my dearest,” he murmured. “I am close now, closer, closer, my love.” He wrapped both arms around her and rested his head on hers, pleased when her hands came up and pulled his arms closer about her.

“Yes, yes, you are,” she said with a relieved sigh. She turned in his arms and kissed him softly on his cheek, putting her arms around his neck. “But you did say something about dessert and I’m sure you brought me up here for something other than my foolishness.”

He smiled, but said, “Not foolishness, Minerva, not if you are sad.”

“But I am not sad, not now, here with you. What a romantic idea, Albus, to take our dessert up here.”

Albus grinned happily. “I am very glad you think so, my dear. And I hope it will be more romantic in just a moment, if you would indulge me and close your eyes briefly.”

Minerva laughed, but she closed her eyes, taking the opportunity to nuzzle against his beard. She could feel his wand arm moving and his magic rippling against her as he cast several spells.

“No peeking, now!” Albus said as he felt her giggle into his beard.

“No, no peeking! But your magic is tickling quite nicely,” she said with another laugh as he cast an additional spell.

“Hmmph,” he said in mock disgust. “Here I am, expending my energy trying to create a romantic setting for you, and you’re giggling about my magic tickling you!”

Minerva just laughed harder at that and was pleased with his answering chuckle rumbling in his chest. Albus took her by the shoulders and turned her around.

“Open your eyes, Minerva, my dear,” he said softly.

---

Note: The next chapter is “Courting Minerva,” Sunday, 18 August 1957. Thanks for reading!

[Hogwarts Duo]

I love going to the board and seeing a new update from you and this one was a double treat because it has a lemony section too. I’ll read that one in a bit but I thought I’d comment on this version first.

She would have to do all she could to ensure he realised how very attractive she found him but without making him uncomfortable, either.

Minerva is going to be so good for Albus, in every single way. It’s wonderful to see that she recognizes that he’s having trouble truly believing that she’s absolutely in love with him and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to convince him otherwise. And the fact that she’s trying to do it all at his speed, for the most part, is fantastic. It just goes to show how close they’re really going to be once they’re together in all ways.

Albus’ nervousness before his breakfast with Minerva is so cute. He reminds me of a younger man in love with all the butterflies, knots in his stomach, and uncertainties. He’s so eager and hopeful yet still a bit conservative in letting himself truly believe all that’s happened. I think if he were any other way, I’d find it a bit out of character with his considering his reservations and concerns all through the story. The fact that he’s nervous also makes him seem so human! Great bit of writing there.

Why should it cause him anxiety if she enjoyed his kisses and wanted more of them? Albus had thought that his demonstration of how the Headmaster would kiss the Head of Gryffindor was certainly a test, and not of his restraint, but of whether he could please Minerva, at least with his kisses. Oh, how he loved to kiss her, and how he loved seeing that she enjoyed it when he did!

I’d say with kisses like that, he passed the test with flying colors! There’s no doubt in my mind that Minerva enjoyed that kiss and would have thoroughly enjoyed even more had it progressed. That was a fantastic description of the kiss and if that’s any indication of the passion he has in store for her and vice versa, I think we’re in for some very exciting and rewarding fireworks in future chapters! ;D

Albus shook his head. “I think . . . I think I was waiting for you, Minerva,” he said very softly. “For years. Before I even could have had any awareness that you might exist. Even before . . . well, a very long time ago. I think that you were always the one, always. And even if you no longer loved me, or wanted me, you would still be the one. But I will never hold you too tightly, I promise you.”

There’s just something in that comment from Albus that is so romantic and speaks to the depths of his love for her. To think that he knew he was destined for someone special even before he knew of her existence is wonderful and for him to have found her, despite all their misunderstandings and separations is a true testament to their love. AWWWW! It reminded me of two passages from earlier chapters. I have copied them here because it really struck a chord with me, showing me once more how nothing is left to chance in your stories and how all things are blending together perfectly.

From the chapter "Tasseomancy":

But he was no tasseomancer; he didn’t even believe in such things, not really, despite Eliza MacAirt’s pronouncement one hundred years ago that he should not marry Dervilia . . . the old witch had always been saying such things, after all. Not that there weren’t true prophecies, of course, but they were few and far between. The rest was intuition and, he thought, looking into his teacup, wishful thinking . . . or dolorous thinking, in this case. Weeping broken hearts. Such foolishness.

And then this one from "Silly Wizard":

But that old witch coming up to him, uninvited, telling him that only pain would result from his marriage to Dervilia, advising against it for both their sakes, then implying that such happiness was not his “youthful lot,” whatever that was supposed to have meant – she had only irritated him with her bluntness and her presumption. And yet it had turned out as the old MacAirt witch, Quin’s great-great grandmother, had predicted; Dervilia had died in her miscarriage less than two years into their marriage, and his pain at losing her had been greater than any happiness he had experienced in his marriage. And despite a few liaisons during his travels as a young man, he had never found a witch with whom he fell in love;

It seems to me that Albus has changed his attitude toward the truth of the old witch's prophecy since the earlier chapters. I think we've seen him morph from disbelieving it to believing it wholeheartedly and now he sees Minerva as its fulfillment. Teehee! Guess the old witch saw a little something from the future after all!

Wow, that kiss on the stairs was steamy!!! I wish he’d just given into his desires and pressed her against the wall a bit so she could truly get a “feel” for his love. Tee hee. Of course, he’s being a gentleman and taking things slowly but he’s gotta let go and give in at some point! Why not sooner rather than later?? Of course, that may have occurred and I just don’t know it since I have to go read the lemon version of this chapter…tee hee. And then he takes her to his rooftop hideaway for a quiet dessert…dreamy sigh. I love that his magic is tickling her and they share a laugh about it. It’s that sort of playfulness that I’d expect from Albus when he’s relaxed and in love! I can’t wait to see what he’s created for her so I’m hoping for an update soon!!

Now, I’m off to read the other version…yay!!! As I said…it’s a double treat!

[Miss Q]

This story is an absolutely amazing one! I am really impressed with your writing and I look forward to read the upcoming chapters!

Thank you for sharing your hard work with us!!!

M

[esoterica1693]

I read the tangier version but will review here.
Wonderful....
Hogwarts Duo and others have already said just about everything about what makes it so.

It appears Minerva is going to have to forcefully take things into her own hands if she's to convince him his touch and his appearance will not repulse her.

It was so sad when he said, "....if it doesn't last." That must have really hurt M to hear, even more than it hurt him to imagine and say.

Ending w/ a cliffie--cruel MMADfan... :-) Sweets-addicted Albus would never let the mere end of a chapter stand between him and pudding....

[MMADfan]

Note: Because of mature content & language, this version of the chapter has been edited. The full, unexpurgated version of the chapter is available in the Lemons forum.

Posted in three parts because of length.

CXLIII: Courting Minerva

Minerva opened her eyes and her smile grew to one of pleasure and admiration. “It’s beautiful, Albus, just beautiful!” She turned back to him and pulled him down into a kiss. “You really are wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, blushing with pleasure.

He had conjured a cushioned seat for two and a small oval table, covered with a colourful cloth, an oil lamp sparkling at its centre, and there were now several large, columnar candles, three or four feet high, set at intervals about the tower roof, each a different colour and each with flowers at its base. The crenellations were also draped with brightly coloured cloths. In the gathering twilight, the candles flickered against the multicoloured fabrics and lent a warmth to the cold stone of the tower. Minerva thought that no place could be more romantic at that moment.

Albus snapped his fingers, and Wilspy appeared, plates, bottles, carafes, cups, and glasses floating in her wake. She wished them both a good evening and a good night after settling everything on the table, then she winked away with a mild snick.

“I thought something simple, my dear, if that suits you,” Albus said, leading her to the settee. “Vanilla ice cream, from Fortescue’s, with blackberries and a blackberry cordial drizzled over it, and a bit of sponge cake. There’s also coffee and cognac. Does that suit?” he asked, slightly worried that what had sounded perfect to him hours before as he made his plans was now totally inadequate for the vision of loveliness that now sat beside him, so wonderfully warm and close.

“It is absolutely perfect, Albus! Absolutely,” she said, taking his hand and smiling at him, her eyes bright. “There could be nothing better. Thank you!” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then said, “Thank you very much, Albus. You are always so thoughtful. I never know how I could possibly repay all of the wonderful things that you do for me.”

Albus smiled warmly. “Your company is more than sufficient, my sweet Minerva. It is more than I could ever hope or wish for.” He was so close to her. He could smell her hair and her skin, and he could not resist leaning closer and kissing her lips lightly, moving his own lips over hers very gently, then drawing back and whispering, “Now for dessert, yes, my love?”

Minerva looked into his eyes, seeming not to hear him at first, then she blinked and replied, “Yes, dessert . . . of course.”

They ate and talked and kissed, rocking back in the glider and watching as the first stars began to appear overhead. Minerva remembered the glider that he had conjured when she was a student, but she did not mention it to him, remembering her conversation with Quin and how it might make Albus uncomfortable to think of that time when she was a student in his care. She tucked her feet up under her and rested her head on Albus’s shoulder.

“You know, Albus, I was wondering whether you still have that other letter you wrote me, the one that never was delivered,” she said.

Albus’s eyebrows rose at the question, but he said, “Yes, I believe it is still in my study.”

“Do you suppose . . . that is, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to read it. And keep it, if I may,” she said.

His hesitation was barely perceptible, but he nodded. “Yes, we can retrieve it when we leave here tonight. But why?”

“I have all of your letters, Albus, all of them together. Knowing that there is that letter, too – it seems my collection is incomplete, that’s all. And I would like to read it, in any case.”

“All of my letters?” Albus asked, remembering the parchments he had seen Minerva gather and close into a small wooden chest, and wondering whether those were all his letters.

“Yes, well, all since I began to keep them, anyway. From before I even fell in love with you,” she said. “You have always been important to me, Albus. I have loved you for a long time.”

“Well, then, we must find that letter to add to your collection.” He paused, thinking. “Were those the letters I saw in your sitting room that day that I came to apologise?”

Minerva nodded. “Yes. I was . . . remembering and trying to understand, so I took out my box and began reading them all from the very first ones.”

“What are the first ones you have?” Albus asked, thinking they were probably ones he had written when she had begun working at the Ministry after leaving Hogwarts, or perhaps the ones he had sent when she was so far away during her apprenticeships.

Minerva squirmed slightly, then she said, “The first ones aren’t really even letters . . . I started keeping them before my feelings for you developed as they did, you understand.”

Albus knit his brow. Not letters? “Yes, I understand, you said that.”

“I have some notes you wrote me during my fifth year when I was working late, in case I met a teacher or a prefect on my way back to Gryffindor Tower,” she said, “and, of course, I have the letters you wrote me before I began my Animagus training. That sort of thing.”

“You kept the passes I wrote for you?” Albus asked, unable to hide his surprise.

Minerva was glad it was getting dark and he could not see her blush. “Not intentionally, not at first, anyway. I just put them in my Transfiguration textbook. And once I had kept one, well, I just began keeping the others, as well.”

Albus kissed her forehead. “Sometime, I would like to look at some of those letters – if you don’t mind. I realise it’s a personal collection – ”

“Yes, of your letters. Of course you may, if you like,” Minerva said. “Sometimes, when I was missing you, I would take them out and read them. Or not read them, just touch them and remember . . . it probably sounds silly to you.”

“Not at all. And I know that there were times when I was not very good about maintaining contact with you, when I didn’t make the time to see you even when I was in London. I am sorry, my dear,” Albus said with genuine regret, thinking particularly of a period during which a very selfish witch had taken whatever free time he had when he was in London for the day.

Minerva shook her head. “I understand. You do have your own life, then and now. And actually . . .”

“Yes?”

Minerva hesitated. “It’s just that I found myself pulling them out more often after I began teaching here. You were so close, and I saw you frequently, but it felt as though you were very far away from me.”

“Ah, Minerva . . . I hope you have forgiven this old wizard his faults and his blindness.”

“Of course I have! That is why I was hesitant to mention it. I didn’t want you to feel badly about it,” Minerva said. “And please, I do hope you are not about to begin calling yourself an old codger again.”

Albus chuckled. “No, I won’t, my dear. However, speaking of letters, I have one that I think would interest you to read. I have it with me, but you are lying on top of the pocket it’s in.”

Minerva reluctantly shifted so that he could reach into his pocket and pull out the folded parchment. He handed it to her, then waved his hand and the candles nearest them burned more brightly so that she could see to read.

At the top of the page was a seal that Minerva didn’t recognise. Properly speaking, it didn’t even seem like a traditional wizarding seal, but it was an interesting symbol, nonetheless. There was a flame that actually flickered in red and gold, an olive branch superimposed over the flame, but unconsumed, and both seemed framed by the open maw of some beast, its tongue hanging out beneath the flame and its fangs, top and bottom, framing the flame on either side. Most peculiar, she thought, and somewhat unsettling. Threatening, with the fire and the fangs, and yet the olive branch was a traditional symbol of peace. Then she saw the handwriting. Of course. She should only expect something peculiar, she supposed.

Aberdeen
17 August 1957

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I write this in formal application for the position of instructor in the subject of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School.

My experience includes the capture of thirty-two Dark Wizards during the period from 1941 through 1945. As a reference, I have attached a list of names of those captured wizards who remain in the custody of the British Ministry of Magic and who are now domiciled at Azkaban. If they are capable of coherent speech after their many years on that miserable isle, they will be able to confirm that it was I who captured them, using only the measures necessary to do so, and no more. I also offer yourself, Albus Dumbledore, as a reference who can verify my abilities in curse-breaking, also witnessed during the aforementioned period.

In addition, I have ridden dragons (though I have slain none), out-smarted a Nundu (living to tell the tale, obviously), and, more recently, banished troublesome ghouls, tamed a banshee (you may meet the banshee at the home of Mr and Mrs O’Leary, County Sligo, where she now baby-sits their grandchildren and prevents the clauricorns from turning the milk sour), and bagged a buggane. You may also contact Signore Pietro Giannelli of Venice, Italy, who can confirm that I eradicated an infestation of Nifflers from that city several years ago. Other references are available, if you wish. I am, of course, also quite capable of dealing with other minor irritants such as Boggarts, Doxies, and Cornish Pixies. Gropius and Columbine Gamp would be pleased to offer confirmation of my recent work for them in relocating some Pixies which had become troublesome in their area.

I am not all work and no play, however, and in addition to riding dragons, I enjoy singing, playing the penny whistle (very handy when dealing with Nifflers, believe it or not!), Apparition-by-Broom (not nearly as dangerous as folk make it out to be), skinny-dipping (which can be unexpectedly perilous in certain waters), and table tennis (a most enjoyable Muggle pastime).

As I mentioned in our discussion, I prefer to offer my services for no more than a year, as I am afraid that one of my vices (few though they may be!) is that I grow bored quickly. I am sure, though, that your students might find me both amusing and instructive during that year, and I will doubtless find them the same.

Most very sincerely yours, truly,

Malcolm Mercury McGonagall

By the end of the letter, Minerva didn’t know whether to laugh or to be utterly mortified that she was related to this bizarre person.

“Erm, so this was his letter of application, then,” Minerva said hesitantly, wondering whether Albus found it completely bizarre, too.

Albus chuckled. “Apparently so. I did tell him I needed a letter of application from him. This is what he submitted.”

“It’s even more bizarre than the one from Clarissa Quaffenbush for the Magical Creatures position, although at least he appears qualified. He didn’t say very much about spell-work, though, aside from his mention of curse-breaking and the capture of Grindelwald’s wizards. I am sure he is quite adept, but – ”

Albus laughed again. “I am certain he is, as well. However, I do intend to have . . . an extended interview with him, if I may put it that way. I did the same with Robert before hiring him.”

“What do you mean by an ‘extended interview,’ Albus?” Minerva asked, suspicious of his tone of voice.

“I think a little demonstration of his talents is in order.”

“A demonstration?” Minerva asked.

“Yes, a few obstacles for him to overcome, a little friendly duel, that sort of thing,” Albus answered.

“A duel?” Minerva said, sitting up straight. “With Malcolm? Are you out of your mind, Albus?”

“Possibly. But I think this could be quite fun, and instructive, as well,” Albus said with a grin.

“But a duel – ”

“A friendly one, Minerva. Honestly, I have no intention of maiming or otherwise injuring your brother.”

“And what about you?”

Albus just chuckled again. “I am sure I will be fine. There will be rules, you know, Minerva. This is something quite different from an honour duel. In fact, Filius can referee.” Albus nodded to himself, pleased with that notion. “Yes, he can tally points and call out any fouls. Yes, that would work quite well.”

Minerva shook her head. “I do hope you will both be careful, Albus.”

“Of course, my dear,” he said, patting her hand. “As careful as one can be during something like this, anyway. And as I said, there are certain rules, though I think that I will go over the standard sporting rules and make a few special changes in this instance.”

“Oh, Albus . . . what is it with wizards and duelling? But, of course, it is a test of competence, I suppose. And in real life, a Dark Wizard or a dangerous creature is not going to sit down and discuss the rules to be followed.” Minerva sighed, resigned. “It is an odd letter of application, though, don’t you think?”

“It is idiosyncratic, to be sure,” Albus said, his eyes twinkling, “and I imagine that your brother’s teaching methods would be equally idiosyncratic. He will be a breath of fresh air at Hogwarts. It will also allow him and Gertrude to be closer, at least for this year.”

“So you are fairly sure you will hire him, then?” Minerva asked.

“Yes, almost certain. Of course, if his practical skills fall short . . .”

“You have more experience and knowledge than he does, not to mention raw magical power. Surely you will take that into account,” Minerva said apprehensively.

“Don’t you worry, my dear. Let’s talk about something different for a while, hmm?” Albus suggested.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLIII: Courting Minerva, continued

“As long as we’re discussing our correspondence, I will mention that I received a letter from my parents this afternoon. I was going to wait to say anything to you, but there seems little point in that.” Minerva could feel Albus stiffen next to her.

“It was in response to your letter?” Albus asked, a slight strain sounding in his voice.

“Yes. They have invited us for dinner. For Wednesday. They would like us to come out in the afternoon, actually, and stay through the evening.”

“Really . . . Wednesday . . . I am not sure – ”

“I think we should go, Albus. I don’t doubt that you are nervous about it, but waiting will only make it harder for you, and you will see them Friday at the wedding, anyway. It will only be the two of them and us, no one else. Mother was quite clear about that. I am sure it’s all right, really, Albus.”

Albus could feel a tightness in his chest and he realised he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly. He had had dinner at the McGonagall home before. He liked both Merwyn and Egeria. Egeria was very kindly taking care of Thea, at no charge, despite the amount of time she was spending. And he was . . . taking their daughter. He had promised them long ago that he would take care of her for them; he doubted that this was what they had in mind. But that was long ago. Minerva was no longer a child, though she was still their daughter. Minerva had said that they had suspected her feelings for him for a long time and yet they had still invited him into their home, they had spoken well of him to her.

Albus nodded. “All right,” he said. “Wednesday. I will make sure that there is someone to stay and look after the castle – perhaps Gertrude will do that, or Johannes. Tell them that I am pleased to accept their invitation.”

“Thank you, Albus!” Minerva said happily, putting her arms around him and kissing his cheek.

Albus smiled. “I am happy to be able to please you, my dear.”

“You do, very much, and in more than just that,” Minerva said, running her hand over his chest. She sighed and lay her head on his shoulder. “I love being close to you like this, and having you hold me . . . and kiss me,” she said more softly. “And I very much enjoyed your demonstration yesterday of the scandalous kiss the Headmaster might give the Head of Gryffindor House if he didn’t exercise restraint during the Sorting Ceremony.”

“You did, did you?” Albus asked in a low voice. He could feel a new tightness in his chest, and elsewhere, and it was not unpleasurable.

“Mmhm, very much. I particularly enjoyed the accompanying caresses,” she whispered. “They left me wanting more.”

Albus swallowed. “I . . . I am very glad of that, Minerva.”

Minerva was quiet, running her fingers gently through his beard, then she said, “There is something that bothers you, Albus, something that you haven’t talked to me about. But you did imply that you thought I might not like you to touch me. You seem to think that I might pull away from your touch. Albus, I welcome your loving touch. I welcome it and desire it.”

“I know. You have said that, but still . . .” Albus shifted uncomfortably, and Minerva moved, maintaining her contact with him, but looking up at him.

“What is it, my darling Albus?” she asked softly, touching his cheek with her fingertips. “What do you fear, and why? You know and believe that I love you. You see how much I love to snuggle close to you, to kiss you, to touch you. What is it, then?”

Albus shook his head. He felt foolish. There was a part of him that recognised his trouble lay not in his decrepitude, his aged body, or his withered touch, but lay rather in his fears themselves, and that they were irrational. But he could not verbalise any of that, though he normally was not at a loss for words. This was too difficult, too embarrassing, even to speak of with Minerva. Especially to speak of with her.

“Please share it with me, Albus, whatever it is. If you trust me . . . can you trust me?” She looked up at him, but Albus avoided her eyes. “You have said that you believe that I need a vital wizard, as though you were not such a one. You are, Albus. You are more vital and more alive than any other wizard of my acquaintance.”

“I am no longer young,” Albus said softly. “And I know you do not believe it matters, but it does.”

“I do not believe that I have said that, precisely,” Minerva said. “But only that it is not an impediment, it should not be an impediment, to our being together. There are differences between us, and you will always be older than I, and always stronger, wiser, more respected. And some of that is because of your age, but some of it is simply because of who you are. We did grow up in different worlds, but in some sense, that is true of many of us. You have often pointed to Quin as a model of a good catch. But surely there are more differences between Quin and me than between you and me. His upbringing, his family traditions, his entire life are all so different from my own. And yet we are friends, and he had a wonderful marriage with Aileen, who was far more like me than she was like Quin, no doubt, simply by virtue of having attended Hogwarts.”

Albus could feel Minerva examining his face for a reaction as she spoke. He did not know what to say. What she said was true, but it didn’t go to the heart of the matter. As he thought of what the true problem was, Albus could again hear Valerianna’s voice ringing in his head, almost as though she were physically present. His lips were withered, and his touch turned her cold; he could not satisfy any witch; his attempts were pathetic. He made her ill. And no witch would want his body next to hers when she could have a young, strong, virile wizard. Albus shuddered involuntarily.

“What is it, Albus?” Minerva asked softly. “Please tell me. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Truly.”

Albus shook his head, not denying her, but simply at a loss for words. He wanted to talk to her; he didn’t want this to come between them. His inadequacies . . . his fears . . . his ill-considered relationship with Valerianna . . . .

Minerva sat back and took his hands in hers. “I love you, Albus, and nothing you can say to me will change that. Surely you trust in that.” She raised one of his hands to her mouth and kissed it, then let them go. “Perhaps . . . perhaps it would be easier like this?” she asked, drawing her wand. She waved it and dimmed the candles and the lamp, their glow still warm and welcoming, but not as bright.

Albus shrugged. It might be easier if he weren’t sitting so close to her. He shifted in his seat. Minerva was silent, waiting patiently and calmly. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I believe you are aware that I, um, for a while I escorted Valerianna Yaxley to various functions. And I, um, well, I suppose you might say that I attempted to court her.” Albus could feel his cheeks grow warm. This was far worse than admitting to Minerva all of the follies of his youth. But Minerva only nodded at him, and he continued, “I knew her husband, you see. He was a good man, a fine wizard. It was partially my fault that he died. Over the years, I saw Valerianna occasionally, usually at Ministry events.”

Albus shifted in his seat again, then he stood. He stepped over to the wall a few feet away and looked out over the Hogwarts grounds.

“I did not know her well, but she was bright, that much was clear. And she seemed . . . interested in me.” Albus cleared his throat again. “She joined the Board of Governors. Shortly thereafter . . . we had both been invited to a dinner party thrown by the Minister for Magic. I was inclined to send my regrets, but I hadn’t yet when she suggested that we go together. She made it sound . . . fun. After that, I began to escort her to various functions, then to bring her to dinner and on other outings. I do not know why, precisely, except that . . . I was used to being alone, and being with her was something different. I tried to please her.” Albus sighed. “Perhaps it was entirely wrong of me to have done that, unfair to her, I do not know.” He sensed Minerva moving on the glider behind him, but she said nothing, and he continued. “But although I tried, I found it difficult to warm up to her, and I felt that she was not warming to me. I persisted, though, and this despite dear Gertrude’s warning that Valerianna was interested in me only for my position and my potential.”

Albus stopped, unable to continue. What could he say now? How could he tell Minerva how terribly foolish he had been, and how hurt, how angry, and how unfairly he had treated Gertrude? That was, perhaps, the greatest disgrace of the entire affair, how he had turned from Gertrude, causing her pain, despite all of their years of friendship.

“I have met Valerianna,” Minerva’s voice came softly in the dark behind him. “She is quite an elegant witch, but manipulative. I understand that she can be very charming, although I personally saw no evidence of that charm. I saw only her nastiness. But I can understand how you might find it enjoyable to escort an elegant witch, and how she might have turned out to be something other than you had hoped. You are a very generous-hearted wizard. It would be like you to give her the benefit of the doubt, to want to believe the best of her.”

Albus nodded. “Yes, I did. But also . . . this shames me, Minerva, but I did not believe Gertrude because I imputed selfish motives to her. And I was very, very wrong.” Albus sighed. There would be some other time to tell Minerva about Gertrude. “Valerianna . . . we were to meet one evening at my cottage, at my home. I had given her leave to come and go as she pleased. I had wards, of course, but they were not meant to do anything more than deter casual thieves and snoops, and the few I had, I set to recognise her. I arrived early, anticipating a romantic weekend and a time to improve our relationship. I discovered that Valerianna had arrived before me, and she had brought someone with her.” Albus’s voice dropped. “I walked into my bedroom, my own bedroom, to find her with a wizard. A young man whom I had taught not many years before. He fled, quite sensibly. But Valerianna, she who had seemed so shy, so demure, so modest, too modest to allow me anything beyond certain liberties, she had been . . . with that wizard in my bed. And she told me precisely why.” Albus’s eyes were closed. He tried to pretend that he was unaffected by what he was saying. But he could hear her voice in his head. “I am old,” Albus said in a monotone. “My touch is disgusting. It made her ill. My withered lips were scarcely to be borne, and the thought of them on her body sickened her. I am a pathetic, dried-up wizard. A vital, passionate witch needs a young, passionate lover. I could not satisfy her or any other witch. Intimacy with my body was revolting even in thought. No witch wants a pathetic, disgusting, aged wizard; no witch wants me to touch her,” he ended in a whisper.

“Oh, Albus,” he heard Minerva say softly behind him. She had risen and was near. He could feel her standing just inches away. “Albus . . . I see that you believe her, but I do not. Not in the least. She was a woman scorned, a witch scorned. She had just betrayed you in a terrible way, and rather than blame herself, she came up with excuses. She wanted you to blame yourself for her own disgusting behaviour.”

Albus felt Minerva’s touch, her hands lightly on his shoulders, then rubbing his back very gently.

“I do not know why you would believe her and not me, my dearest, most wonderful Albus,” Minerva said softly. “Perhaps, in her anger, her words had the force of a spell of some sort. Tyree witches used to cause men impotence with just a look, they say, if they were angry. I do not know how much truth there is to that tale, but . . . for you to have carried this with you as you have, and for me to know how wonderful it is when you kiss and caress me, how you can excite me with your touch, bringing me pleasure just with your voice . . . I do not understand why you would believe her nasty, vindictive words, Albus, when they are so very far from the truth.”

Albus bent his head. Minerva’s words were delivered gently and lovingly. His reason recognised the truth to what she said, but there was still a knot in his stomach when he considered that he might reach for her, touch her, caress her, and she would withdraw from him involuntarily. He could not bear that. He would rather continue in a chaste relationship, as chaste, at least, as it had been until now, than to risk her shying from him.

“Believe me, Albus, believe me,” Minerva said softly, still gently running her hands over his back. “You are extremely handsome, immensely attractive, and your touch warms and excites me. I love to hear your voice, to feel your hands touching me, to feel your lips on mine, your lips over my skin, your tongue touching mine, and,” she continued even more softly, “feeling your desire for me, your very physical desire, it quickens my own need and desire. Touch me, Albus, touch me, and you will see and feel how much pleasure you bring me, how you awaken my desire, and how my desire is for you and for you alone.”

Albus consciously relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of Minerva’s soothing hands rubbing his back. He put all thought of Valerianna’s words out of his head, thinking instead of Minerva’s quiet acceptance of his admissions. She had no censure for him, only caring words and a loving touch. As if she had noticed that he was enjoying her touch, Minerva began to gently massage his shoulders, and he relaxed more, then she put her arms around him and leaned against his back.

“I love you, Minerva,” he whispered.

“And I love you, Albus,” she answered, giving him a squeeze. “I love you so very much.”

They stood like that for a few minutes, not speaking, Albus simply enjoying the feeling of Minerva at his back, her arms encircling him. He raised one hand from where it had rested on the stone rampart and placed it on her hand. She turned her hand over and held his, then placed her other hand on top of his.

“Your hands are cold,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. He felt her shake her head slightly against him.

“Here, give me your hands,” Minerva said, and Albus turned around as she took hold of his hands. Rather than using a common warming charm, as he might have expected, had he thought about it, she took his hands between her own, brought them to her mouth and breathed on them, then she brought them to her chest and held them to her warmth, gently caressing them. “A little warmer?”

Albus nodded, very aware of Minerva’s softness beneath his hands. “Yes, a little warmer,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Good, very good,” Minerva said, still rubbing the backs of his hands. She smiled up at him when he began to move his thumbs gently against her.

He bent his head and kissed her forehead, then her mouth. He didn’t break the kiss as Minerva brought one hand to his face, caressing his face and jaw. He moved his hand on her and her slight moan sent a frisson of pleasure through him. Her other hand went to his hip, and he enjoyed the feel of her softness beneath his hands as he caressed her. She pulled out of the kiss with a gasp, clutching at his robes, and Albus kissed her exposed throat, very aware of her rapid pulse and her sharp intake of breath as he softly moved his lips over her skin.

Albus turned, bringing Minerva with him, so that now her back was to the battlements; he put one arm around her, still kissing her throat and the exposed area below her collarbone, caressing her more boldly as she leaned back against his arm, opening herself to him. He kissed the soft skin of her neck and chest as his hand wandered lower, down her abdomen then returning again. As his hand travelled down her body again and began to caress her from her stomach to her hip, Albus moved his lips up her throat to her jaw, then to a spot just behind her ear, where he gently kissed and nipped. Minerva’s mews of pleasure caused his own excitement to grow, and he took her delicate earlobe between his lips as his fingers moved their caress lower still. She moaned and pressed into his hand, clutching blindly at his robes.

“More, Albus . . . oh, please, don’t stop,” she gasped, then she moaned again as she felt Albus’s tongue caress her ear.

Involuntarily, Minerva’s head lolled back, resting against the top of the wall, and her weight was supported almost entirely by Albus’s left arm around her. Minerva couldn’t think, only feel, though if she had any thought, it would have been the astonished awareness that no man had ever before brought her such pleasure without removing her clothing, or at least moving it aside, but she did not think, her mind fully occupied with the feel and sound of Albus’s kisses and caresses.

“Oh, gods, yes, Albus, oh, my love, Albus!” she cried weakly, arching her back as he held her securely. Then she was limp and exhausted, and Albus brought his arm around her and held her close to him. Minerva was glad for his support; she was certain that her legs would not hold her up at that moment, but she brought her arms up and draped them about him. “Oh, Albus . . . that was . . . that was simply . . .” She sighed and settled her head closer to his beating heart.

As she returned to herself, Minerva realised that she had done nothing at all for Albus, and she brought one hand around between them and began to seek him, but Albus caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger. Minerva tilted her head to look up at him questioningly. He was smiling softly.

“I am happy you found that . . . acceptable, my dear,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

Minerva swallowed, then blushed, suddenly feeling somewhat embarrassed at the way that she had simply let go as she had. But then she reminded herself quickly that at least now, Albus could not possibly believe that his touch would leave her cold or disgust her, and she returned his smile.

“It was far more than ‘acceptable,’ Headmaster. I do believe I would give you an ‘Outstanding,’ with extra marks for efficacy and style,” Minerva said, a slightly naughty grin crossing her face, pleased when he returned her smile. “Perhaps we should see how well I do,” she said with a whisper, moving her other hand between them, but Albus caught that one up, too.

He kissed her hands, then her forehead. He rested his cheek against her forehead, then whispered, “Another time, I think, Minerva.”

Minerva struggled for words, “But, I am happy to, I would like to . . .”

“Mmm, yes. But not now. Please, my dearest love,” he murmured. He let out a long, happy sigh, releasing her hands, resting his head on hers, and putting his arms around her again. “Now, just this, just . . . this.”

Minerva nodded. She relaxed against him. This was nice. Very, very nice. Now, if they only had her wizarding wireless with them, they could have music. But this was lovely. More than that.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLIII: Courting Minerva, continued

Albus moved them to the glider, and Minerva settled into his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. The night was fully upon them now, and the stars were a shining host in the clear black sky. Minerva let her head fall back so that she could look up at them.

“Did you arrange all of this, Albus? Tell the clouds to leave this corner of Scotland for the night so that we could see all of the beautiful stars?” she asked.

Albus smiled at her little joke and shook his head. “No, for the only light that interested me tonight was the light in your eyes. I love you, my dear Minerva, my sweet love.” He kissed her forehead. “But I am glad that my little rooftop haven pleases you.”

“It is very romantic, Albus. Perfect, in fact.” She put her hand at the back of his neck and drew him down for a kiss. After she had kissed him – a few times, finding it difficult to stop, her lips returning to his for just one more kiss and then another – Minerva looked into his eyes and said, “I am the luckiest witch in all the world, in all of history. Thank you, Albus, thank you for making me so.”

“It is the least I can do for the witch who has made me the happiest, most blessed of all men,” he said, his voice a low rumble against her. His lips brushed her hair. “I am more happy than I thought possible.” His sigh of contentment was a warm breeze over Minerva. “Would you like more cognac? Or I could reheat the coffee,” Albus suggested.

Minerva shook her head. “I think what I would really like – other than you,” she said with a small chuckle, walking her fingers up Albus’s chest, “is a cup of tea.”

Albus nodded. “That can be provided,” he said. “I can call Wilspy now. Would you like anything else?”

Minerva said, “No, just the tea, I think. But we could go down and have some in my suite. I often make tea for myself.”

Albus hesitated slightly, then he said, “Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you.”

“I noticed that you don’t have a kitchen, Albus – when I was looking for you on Wednesday,” Minerva said. “I’m sorry, Albus. I didn’t mean to snoop, I was just frantic, trying to find you.”

Albus chuckled. “You have free access to my suite, my dear, because I trust you. You could not snoop, because you are welcome. Anywhere, all right, my love?”

Minerva nodded. “Thank you.”

“And I do not have a kitchen because Headmaster Dippet did not have one, nor did Headmaster Black, before him. I believe that Phineas Nigellus had it removed, in fact. He found it plebeian to have a kitchen in his suite,” Albus said with amusement. “I did not have one in my earlier quarters, either, simply because it did not occur to me that I could have one, and by the time I realised I could, Wilspy was on very good terms with the Hogwarts house-elves and I did not want to deprive her of her social contact by having her believe that she had to use a kitchen in our suite. Now, I am simply used to it, and I doubt I would ever use it myself. But I am very glad that you like yours.”

Albus moved forward in the seat, and Minerva sat up, sliding off his lap. Albus put his arm around her shoulders and they moved toward the stair.

“Should I go first, my dear?” he asked.

Minerva laughed. “That would be fine. If I can put my hand on your shoulder, as I used to.”

“I would hope that you would do that,” Albus said with a smile.

He led her down the narrow stairway, and Minerva put one hand on each shoulder. When they reached the bottom, she squeezed his shoulders in a gentle massage, stopping him from moving any further. Some slight pressure, and Albus turned to face her. Minerva smiled down at him and combed her fingers through his hair.

“You are so . . . gorgeous, Albus, so wonderful, and looking at you is such a pleasure, and touching you, an even greater one.” She kissed his forehead, then looked into his eyes again.

Albus smiled brightly up at her, and said in a low voice, “And you, my love, are my sun and my stars, the wave that lifts me, the fresh breeze that invigorates me, the very rhythm of my heartbeat; you, my sweet Minerva, are the passion in my life, that which animates my very being, the pinnacle I never hoped to attain. You are the light beyond the clouds, the joy on the far side of sorrow: you are my love.”

Minerva leaned forward and kissed his cheeks. Tears entered her eyes. She whispered, “I wish I could say to you anything at all as beautiful as your words to me.”

Albus pulled her toward him, down one more step, and held her close. He turned his face into her hair and took a deep breath and let it out.

“Your words are beautiful to me, my dear Minerva. Very beautiful, words of love. Your presence in my life, even more so,” he said softly. “And the words that you uttered, that brought me beyond my fears . . . they could not have been more beautiful.”

“You are very sweet, Albus,” Minerva said with a sigh.

“Now, what about that letter?” Albus asked, pulling back slightly.

“We don’t have to get it just this minute . . . though I would like to read it.” Minerva was torn. She wanted to read the letter, but she didn’t want to have anything interrupt the moment.

“I think I know where it is,” Albus said thoughtfully. He flicked a finger, opening the door to his bedroom, flicked it twice more, though Minerva couldn’t see to what effect, then he whispered, “Accio letter,” beckoning the letter to him. A moment later, it sailed through the door and into his hand.

Albus turned to her, his eyes sparkling, and said, “Here you are, my dear. Your post.” He handed her the letter, sketching a slight bow. “Do bear in mind as you read it, however, when the letter was written. It was before . . . all the confusion.”

Minerva laughed lightly. “In the midst of the confusion, I would say. Right approaching the peak of confusion, actually.”

Albus nodded. “Indeed. Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the other stairs.

“Let’s,” Minerva replied, stepping down the final step.

Albus placed his hand on the old, scarred door and said, “Peppermint Pillows.”

It glowed and swung open. “Shall I go ahead again?”

Minerva smiled and nodded, then placed her hands on his shoulders as they stepped into the narrow, torchlit stairway.

“Mmm,” Minerva said as they walked down the stairs, “I do love to feel your magic, Albus. It feels somehow especially nice here, in your shoulders, and in your chest.”

“You really are very sensitive to my magic in particular, Minerva?” Albus asked, his voice echoing slightly against the high stone walls.

“Yes, very. Much more so than anyone else’s. Sometimes . . . sometimes, particularly when you are casting a spell, I can even feel it when I’m standing a several feet from you and not even touching you,” she replied. “I have been aware of it for a very long time, and my awareness grew as I got older, and it hasn’t faded at all, in all the years I’ve known you, even when we were apart for long intervals.”

“Hmm, that is interesting. It is likely related to the phenomenon that drew us both to the mated wands, or drew them to us.”

“Do you – do you notice mine, Albus?” Minerva asked hesitantly.

“I am somewhat aware of almost anyone’s magic,” Albus answered. “Occasionally, I will even pass a Muggle family on the street, and I can tell that one of the children will be receiving a Hogwarts letter. Not always, of course, and occasionally . . . very occasionally there is a Muggle, someone who is very thoroughly and obviously a Muggle, who seems on first glance to have a magical signature, though a weak one, and, on the other hand, there is sometimes a wizard or a witch who is quite well-endowed with magic, but whose magic is practically undetectable to me unless I cast a diagnostic spell or am touching them as they cast a spell. When I am somewhere such as the Ministry, or in the middle of Diagon Alley, or at Hogwarts, when it is in session, everyone’s magic tends to seem to blend together, though.”

“Oh, so my magic just . . . blends in,” Minerva said, feeling somewhat disappointed.

“I was just getting to that, Minerva,” Albus said before he paused and opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, then led her into the side corridor. He continued, “Your magic has always been somewhat . . . lighter, somehow, if that makes any sense, distinguishable from the others, or distinguishing itself. Even years ago, in a roomful of students, I would know where you were and feel your magic. It was as though . . . as though it sang a descant above all the others, beautifully and unmistakably Minerva.” He stopped, blushing.

They had not yet quite reached the end of the short hallway, but Minerva held onto his arm and turned him toward her. “That was a lovely way of putting it, Albus,” she said, smiling. She looked up into his eyes and rubbed his upper arm. Noticing that his blush had not faded and that he was having trouble meeting her gaze, she added, “You know . . . we cannot try to pretend that I was never your student, that we haven’t known each other since I was very young. I can understand that it might sometimes be uncomfortable for you to remember that, but we cannot simply avoid talking about those times. We could avoid it, I suppose, but I would rather not. Those were enjoyable times, and interesting ones, and occasionally distressing, but we shared them. We had different relationships with each other at different times in our lives. Our relationship has simply grown and developed.”

Albus nodded. “I know that. I understand what you are saying.” He smiled slightly. “And I appreciate that you understand my occasional, passing sense of discomfort.”

“But we will get used to it, together, hmm?” Minerva said with another caress. “We are in love, Albus,” she whispered. “We have been in love with each other for a long time. We just didn’t know it. In fact, in a way, you have been courting me. Not openly, of course, or consciously, but you have been doing wonderful things for me for quite a while, and they have only become more special over time. And this summer, you were most especially sweet and romantic. Everything you did only helped me fall more deeply in love with you than I had been before.”

He looked down at her with loving eyes. “Except when doppelganger-Albus made an appearance,” he said with a slight smile.

“Except then, of course,” Minerva replied. “Do you think you need another dose of prevention?” she asked with a gleam in her eye.

“Hmm,” Albus said thoughtfully. “I wonder . . . do I? It might be a very good idea. If you don’t mind dispensing the cure.”

“Not terribly,” she said, restraining her grin. “It will be worth the sacrifice, I’m sure.”

Minerva put her arms around Albus’s neck and watched his face as he bent his head for his kiss. She met his lips with hers, closing her eyes and savouring the sensation of his lips on hers, of his breath on her cheek, and his arms around her as he pulled her closer to him. Finally, she lay her head against him and sighed in contentment.

“I did promise you a cup of tea,” Minerva said, “and I suppose that standing here in the hallway is not fulfilling that promise, is it?”

“Mm, no, but I would say that doppelganger-Albus is definitely being held at bay, if he even exists any longer,” Albus said with a chuckle as he ran a hand up and down her back.

The sound resonating in his chest gave Minerva goose-bumps, but she leaned back, taking a deep breath, and said, “Then on to my rooms, my darling Albus.”

---

Next: “Rematch” Sunday, 18 August - Monday, 19 August 1957.

[Leaves of Green]

Lovely Update! Can't wait for the next chapter. It really keeps getting better and better!!!!!!!!


Love,
Kylee

[Hogwarts Duo]

There are so many things I want to comment on in this section (I’ll review the lemony version on the lemon board) so here goes:

THE SETTING: Albus really does have a firm grasp on the romantic side of things. The rooftop creation of his sounded perfectly and he left nothing to chance. It sounded so very romantic with the glider, the candles, and their assortment of refreshments. When he plans a romantic dessert date, he goes all out, something I’m sure Minerva appreciates fully. Heck, I know I would if he were my wizard…dreamy sigh.

THE LETTERS: Such a sweet thing to do…keep all of his letters and now that he knows that’s what he saw, he wants to read them. How very touching, for both of them. I’m glad he remembered seeing the little box of letters. I do hope we’ll get to see Albus sorting through all the correspondence and his reaction to her years of collecting them. That would surely be a “squee” worth moment, not to mention poignant.

MALCOLM’S LETTER: The more you write of Malcolm, the more I love his character. He is such a hoot, certainly a stark contrast to Minerva’s character. You’d have trouble believing they’re siblings. Tee hee. I do love his letter though. That was fantastic and had me laughing. I am very much hoping you’re going to write the duel between Albus and Malcolm. I’m sure Minerva will be beside herself if Albus gets hurt…maybe Malcolm too…but he has Gertie to look after him. I’m guessing she’ll be on pins and needles too.

MEETING THE PARENTS SORT OF DINNER: Albus is so cute here. He reminds me of a young lad who’s been invited to meet the family of the girl he loves. But, dear, sweet, Albus has an advantage. He knows her parents (her entire family actually) and they all think he’s just grand. It’s such a normal reaction for him to have though, being nervous at the thought of seeing her parents again after they know the recent troubles Minerva and Albus have had and also knowing that they’ve somehow reconciled. Definitely looking forward to that bit of the story. I hope Merwyn takes it easy on Albus and that Egeria is her warm, kind-hearted self, though I have no doubts about either since they’ve known of the ADMM romance before it was fully in bloom.

Albus smiled brightly up at her, and said in a low voice, “And you, my love, are my sun and my stars, the wave that lifts me, the fresh breeze that invigorates me, the very rhythm of my heartbeat; you, my sweet Minerva, are the passion in my life, that which animates my very being, the pinnacle I never hoped to attain. You are the light beyond the clouds, the joy on the far side of sorrow: you are my love.”

Another dreamy sigh. Albus has a way of using words to melt my heart and Minerva’s too. That was absolutely beautiful. How could a man with so much love in his heart, such flowery words, and such a warmth about him ever find himself single??? I’m glad for Minerva’s sake that Valerianna was a short-lived romance and that Gertie had the foresight to let Albus go. Otherwise, Minerva would never have found true happiness and we might not have seen this side of Albus…awwww. One thing struck me as reminiscent of an earlier chapter…Albus’ words reminded me of the poem Minerva and her father translated from the Taliesin…beautiful words translated then and they seem to have been born out in Albus’ words. Care to explain that little nougat of information there, MMADfan??? Is that another one of the little gems you’ve planted for us along the way???

FEELING MAGIC: Throughout the story, we’ve heard about Minerva being able to truly feel Albus’ magic beneath her fingertips or surrounding her when they were close, even how it reminded her of a symphony. I’m happy that she told him about being able to sense his magic and then to boldly ask him if he could feel hers. I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t immediately respond with a resounding “yes” but like Minerva, I was happy when he went on to explain the true nature of his ability to sense her magic. Just another reason why they’re destined to be together…yay! The way he describes feeling her magic when in a group of people was great and I’m sure it made her very happy!

As always…I’m looking forward to the next chapter and you’ve intrigued me with the chapter title. Hope we don’t have to wait too long for the next update!

[esoterica1693]

Rematch coming up....hmmm....so, who will put whom in check, eh?

Another wonderful chapter which I will review later after finishing the day's to-dos. If I re-read it to review now, I will get too, umm, distracted. (Yes, I read the tangy version!)

[esoterica1693]

One thought that sprang to mind even w/o re-reading the chapter is that Egeria and Merwyn are so cool. I bet very little time elapsed between Egeria hearing from Minerva and her saying to Merwyn, "We need to have them to dinner, just us and them. Let Albus know how pleased we are." B/c when she talked to Minerva it was clear that she had a pretty good read on Albus's hesitancies, and she would appreciate the need to give him, especially, their blessing w/o waiting for him to have to ask for it.

The whole chapter was delightful. Of course the lemony bit from the hand-warming onwards was wonderful, but the whole bit of Minerva drawing Albus out about what the vile witch had said to him was brilliant. Her theory of a possible spell-effect was interesting.

And the two of them discussing her letters and how each senses the other's magic was sweet too. And her understanding Albus's momentary pause when he thought of her in her student days was very good. Minerva, thanks in large part to her advisors Quin and Egeria, is handling his fears very well.

I saw your reply to a comment on TPP, where you said that Albus just wanted to savor the moment after Minerva's extremely positive reaction to his extended caresses. That is so sweet. I hope Minerva savors it too--their first moment like that.

With all their snogging in the passageways, all the portraits must be figuring that this August is turning out to be quite a bit more interesting than some!

I wonder if Minerva is beginning to suspect just how long Albus has loved her, or if he's beginning to figure out how long she's loved him. While the gift of the Taliesin was genuinely b/c of her academic/magical achievement, it does show that he already had strong feelings, if still platonic ones, for her even then.

Speaking of lemons, I note that Wilspy wished them both a good night when she brought their dessert. Wonder how that tea in Minerva's suite will end up?

Back to the laundry now. Sigh. Oh, for a house elf!

[MMADfan]

Note: Because of mature content & language, this version of the chapter has been mildly edited. The full, unexpurgated version of the chapter is available in the Lemons forum.

Posted in three parts because of length.

CXLIV: Rematch

At her door, Minerva gave her password, and the Silent Knight bowed and opened the door with a slight click, but Albus hesitated.

“It is late. Perhaps I should – ”

Minerva didn’t let him finish. “Perhaps you should sit on my couch and allow me to make you a soothing cup of chamomile tea. That is what you were about to say, isn’t it? Or is doppelganger-Albus returning?”

“Oh, never, not at all! I was simply thinking of the hour, and of your, um, beauty sleep,” Albus said awkwardly.

Minerva laughed and pulled him into the sitting room. “All right, as long as it isn’t doppelganger-Albus – and you needn’t worry, Albus.”

“Worry?” he asked as she closed the door behind them.

“That I might . . . press your virtue?” she said as she walked toward her little kitchen. “Have a seat, Albus. Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be more than a minute.”

Good to her word, Minerva reemerged from the kitchen less than a minute later, her wand out, a teapot, two cups and saucers, a small pitcher of milk, and a little honey pot floating on a tray in front of her. She settled everything down on the small table in front of the couch, then she waved her wand, bringing the water in the teapot up to just the right temperature. She picked up a small jar and emptied its contents into the pot, then waved her wand to give them a brief stir.

Albus had made himself at home while Minerva was in the kitchen, taking off his short boots, but he reached for them to put them back on. “I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t realise you would be so quick about it. My feet were a bit tired.”

“Leave them off, then. You can put them on before you leave. I did say to make yourself comfortable,” she said, sitting down beside him and slipping off her own shoes. “The tea will take only a few minutes. I generally like to pour the water over the tea or herbs, but this seemed faster. I hope you don’t mind honey. I only realised when I looked for it that I don’t have any sugar.”

“No, I prefer honey in herb teas, generally,” Albus replied, crossing his ankles.

“Here, you said your feet were tired,” Minerva said, moving over and gesturing to him. “Let me rub them for you.”

“Oh, no, Minerva, that’s all right. They’re fine, really,” Albus said.

“Well, you could put them up here in my lap,” Minerva said with a smile, “or I could get down on the floor to rub them. Conjure a stool, or something.”

Albus chuckled and shook his head. “You really needn’t, you know.”

Minerva rolled her eyes, but smiled when Albus turned and leaned against the arm of the sofa, bringing his feet up to rest in her lap. Her smile broadened when she saw the socks.

“They don’t really go with your robes, do they?” she asked with a grin as she began to rub his right foot, taking it between both hands.

Albus wiggled his toes and looked at his socks. “No one sees them under my boots. And there are clouds on the calves. Above the trees on the ankles,” he said, raising the hem of his robes slightly so that she could see more of the bucolic scene magically woven into his socks.

Minerva laughed. “It must be fun to know you are walking about with – what are these tiny creatures? Ducklings or chicks? – hopping about in a green meadow on your feet, with little lambs cavorting with them.”

Albus grinned. “There’s even a snake in the grass; you may notice her. She pops her head up occasionally. But peacefully. She’s a very little green snake.”

Minerva laughed at that. “‘Her’? How do you know it’s a she, Albus?”

“Her name is ‘Esmerelda,’” Albus said, then he laughed with Minerva.

As Minerva began to rub his left foot, pressing her thumbs into his arch and running them up the centre of his foot, Albus sighed in contentment. “You are very good at that, my dear.”

Minerva grinned. “Thank you. I appreciate a good foot rub myself occasionally – not tonight, Albus!” she said, seeing an expression cross his face and his mouth begin to open with an offer to rub her feet. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it. But I’m not doing this to have one in exchange. Though I would appreciate one at some other time! Why don’t you pour the tea? It must be finished brewing.”

Albus nodded and poured out for them. “Honey, my sweet Minerva?” he asked.

Minerva hesitated. “Yes, but think about how much you like in it and cut it by at least two-thirds. I like just enough to add a little flavour but not too much sweetness.”

Albus nodded obediently and added honey to the cups, then made a gesture to stir it in. “Now, as much as I am enjoying the foot massage, you will need to have your hands free for your tea,” he said as he Levitated Minerva’s cup over to her.

“All right,” Minerva responded, patting his foot as she put it back down in her lap. “Next time, we’ll do it without the socks on. You’ll enjoy that even more.” She twitched a smile, thinking of other activities they could engage in with fewer clothes on, but she said nothing more.

Albus swung his feet around, sitting up straight on the couch. “Thank you very much!” He wiggled his toes then pulled on his boots. “My feet thank you, too. And Esmerelda!” He reached over and picked up his own teacup.

Minerva smiled. “You didn’t need to sit up, though, Albus. I was quite comfortable.”

“Very nice tisane,” Albus said, taking a sip.

“The very last of the chamomile you gave me when I went to the Gamps. I have been rationing it,” Minerva replied. “I did enjoy it very much. It was an extremely thoughtful present.”

Albus smiled and patted the cushion next to him. Minerva slid closer to him and smiled when he bent his head and kissed her temple.

“I am glad that you enjoyed it, Minerva. I knew you were a little apprehensive about the house party, and I also know that they can be tiring, especially if you’re not a . . . a people person,” Albus said.

“Do you enjoy them, Albus?” Minerva asked. “I don’t mean parties in general. I mean the Gamp parties.”

Albus nodded. “Generally, yes. They are not usually as grand as I understand it was this year. Usually, for several days, there are closer members of the family, such as Quin and his children, and Reginald and Thea, visiting, coming and going, but not so many more distant friends and relatives there. Then there is a larger party at the end of the week. That is usually held on a weekend, unlike this year, but I understand that the schedule of the guests of honour dictated its placement. You can’t very well hold an engagement party if the engaged parties are not in attendance!”

Minerva laughed. “I wouldn’t have minded,” she said, quickly adding, “but that is an unkind thing to say.”

Albus quirked a grin. “But an amusing thought.” He chuckled. “Can you imagine the non-invitation to such a party? ‘Dear Friends, we are holding a party in your honour next month. We shall toast your health and wish you well in the future. No need to attend. We wish the party to be a congenial affair, and the guests will be most happy to toast you in your absence’!”

“Albus!” Minerva laughed again and shook her head slightly. Albus rarely said anything gratuitously derogatory about someone, and he wasn’t known for making cruel jokes at others’ expense, but, of course, this hadn’t been directed at anyone in particular. “You can be naughty!”

Albus’s eyes sparkled. “I can be quite naughty, under the right circumstances, my dear!”

Minerva chuckled. “I look forward to creating the right circumstances for you to be . . . naughty with me.”

Albus gazed at her face, and met Minerva’s eyes. His smile changed from one of teasing amusement to one of affection. “I look forward to that, too.”

Albus let go of his teacup and saucer, and they floated over to the table. He took Minerva’s from her and sent them to sit beside the teapot. He raised a hand and caressed her face, then he leaned forward and kissed her lips. His arms went around her, and he deepened the kiss as Minerva embraced him. Then he kissed her lightly several times before holding her close to him.

He took in a slow, deep breath then let it out in a sigh. “I love you, Minerva,” he whispered.

“And I love you, Albus,” Minerva responded, her voice slightly muffled as she nuzzled his chest.

Albus kissed the top of her head then slowly disengaged from her embrace. “The tea was lovely, and much as I do not want this night to end, it is very late.”

Minerva nodded and stood. She took his hand as he rose. “If you wouldn’t find it too dull to have breakfast with me again, I would enjoy having breakfast with you in the morning,” she said.

“Breakfast with you would never become dull, although it would be lovely if it were to become . . . routine,” Albus answered. “I hope we are able to breakfast together most mornings that we are both in the castle – when school is not in session.”

Minerva nodded. “I would like that very much.”

“Come up to my suite when you are up, then. It is late. Sleep as long as you wish. Wilspy can bring us our breakfast whenever you arrive,” Albus suggested as they walked toward the door.

“Good night, Albus,” Minerva said. “Sleep well!”

“I am sure I will,” he answered. “Good night, my dear Minerva.”

He tilted her face toward him, one gentle finger on her chin, and bent his head to kiss her. He felt some reluctance to leave, and he kissed her once more before opening the door.

“I will see you soon,” Albus said.

“Very soon,” Minerva replied. “Sweet dreams, Albus!”

He stepped through the door, looked back at Minerva once, blew her a kiss, which she felt land on her cheek, making her smile, then he turned and headed away toward the Headmaster’s backstair and his own bed.

Minerva closed the door and leaned against it. She had wanted Albus to stay, but she had promised not to press him. He had made great strides in just a few days, and revealing his fears to her that night on the rooftop had been a tremendous leap for him. She smiled as she remembered how Albus had touched her, and she blushed. She did hope that he didn’t think that she was . . . wanton. He was a gentleman, and of a different period. Obviously, Albus didn’t expect her to have no desires or drives. He had said that a healthy young witch needed a vital wizard, after all. He didn’t seem to labour under some bizarre notion that good witches didn’t have physical needs and desires. Still, after having let go as she had, and after her promise not to press him, she couldn’t very well make him uncomfortable by again suggesting he stay. Minerva was certain that he wasn’t yet ready for that. But soon, perhaps, soon, that would change.

Now, though, she would get ready for bed and read Albus’s letter to her.

Minerva got ready for bed, then paused at her vanity and picked up the picture of her and Albus after her Challenge. She looked at it and smiled. Watching the two of them in the photograph now, and their reactions to each other, Minerva didn’t know why she hadn’t always recognised that they were in love with each other. In love . . . perhaps even then, perhaps he had been in love with her even then. That had been nine years ago, a little more, actually. Minerva shook her head at their foolishness in not recognising each other’s feelings. On the other hand, at not even twenty-four years old, Minerva didn’t think she would have been ready for a relationship with Albus then.

No, Minerva knew that their relationship would have its difficulties, and some unusual ones, given their differences, including the difference in their ages; at twenty-four, however, she would not have had the experience that she did now. And although she and Albus had, of course, called themselves friends at that point, she had still felt far more the student to him, and she certainly hadn’t the same abilities at that time, nor the range of knowledge that she had attained in the interim. No, a few years more maturity had only helped her, Minerva was certain. She wouldn’t have wanted to have bored Albus or had him chuckling over her naivete or innocence. Still, it was a pity they hadn’t come together three or four years before, sometime before that other witch had tried to sink her claws into him. That one large problem that had stood between them never would have arisen. Minerva had no doubt that the insecurities that Valerianna had instigated had been a large part of Albus’s inability to see that Minerva was in love with him, to realise that it had been she who had kissed him, who had returned his kiss, and who had been pleased by his touch and not disturbed by it. If it were not for Valerianna, Minerva was certain that that final crisis never would have occurred and that they would have come together without so much pain.

Tears rose in her eyes as she remembered Albus’s reluctance, his embarrassment and shame, and the sound of his voice as he had told her what that other witch had said to him. And Minerva was certain that Valerianna’s actual words had been much worse. Minerva had wanted to cry and to hold him when he was telling her about it, but she knew instinctively that that was the wrong reaction at that moment, that he needed her to accept his pain and to wipe away the nastiness that Valerianna had left behind. To have wept for him then would have been self-indulgent and would have embarrassed Albus even more than he already was. But now, in the privacy of her own room, she sat on the edge of her bed, and she wept tears of sorrow and anger.

It had disturbed her so to hear him say even that it might have been “wrong” of him to have tried to please Valerianna. That cow hadn’t appreciated him, and Minerva now wished that she had done far more than simply jinx her shoes. For Albus to blame himself . . . of course, there was the issue of Gertrude and why he had not believed her. Minerva assumed it must have had something to do with their one-time relationship, if they had had one. Perhaps he had broken things off with Gertrude at some point, and so he assumed that Gertrude was only trying to get him back. Something seemed wrong with that picture, although Minerva couldn’t lay her finger on what it was, aside from the fact that Gertrude was a far superior witch to that Yaxley person. She shrugged to herself and sighed. Albus might tell her at some point. Right then, Minerva was simply relieved that he had finally talked to her about Valerianna and her nasty words. She doubted that he had told anyone else. Whom would he tell? The person he was closest to seemed to be Gertrude, and although Gertrude would likely be understanding – and very angry with Valerianna – it didn’t seem the sort of thing that Albus would have shared with her. And Minerva didn’t know whether it would have made it more or less likely for Albus to have told Gertrude what Valerianna had said if the two had been in an intimate relationship.

Minerva put the picture down, running her finger along the edge of the gold frame, admiring once again its Art Nouveau qualities and Albus’s artistry. They were together now, and they had overcome obstacles on their way. Minerva wasn’t going to let anything else come between them, never for long, anyway. And Albus himself had made great strides that night. These were very large changes in his life, Minerva was certain. As much as he enjoyed being with her and creating romantic surprises for her, eventually, everyday life would begin to reassert itself. And there would be practical questions that would arise between them. He had been alone for a very long time, and their positions at the school didn’t precisely create ideal conditions for them to be involved, let alone to begin a life together. They hadn’t discussed exactly what they were doing, although Albus had said that he was “paying her court.” Courtship generally had a rather specific goal in mind, although Minerva was fairly sure that Albus hadn’t thought that far ahead with regard to their relationship and was using the term in a more generic sense.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLIV: Rematch, continued

But now to read her letter from Albus. Minerva sat up in bed, her pillows plumped behind her, put on her glasses, and unfolded the letter Albus had given her. She hoped that it wasn’t the sort of apology he had written her on Wednesday. Minerva smiled as she read the first lines. She needn’t have worried.

“13 August 1957

“Dearest Minerva,

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

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

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

“Yours always,

“Albus”

Tears ran down her face as she realised that if she had received this, their great misunderstanding never would have occurred. But then, it wouldn’t have been resolved, either. It was a beautiful letter, and it might have brought her closer to understanding, but Albus was so resistant . . . No, they likely would have gone on as they had done, and it either would have continued so indefinitely, or they would have had some similar encounter that might not have ended as well. In any event, it seemed that this crisis was what Albus had needed before he could tell her how he felt, and it had provided the turning point in their relationship.

“‘Yours always,’” Minerva read softly to herself. “Mine, always . . . .”

Minerva believed that he meant those words quite literally, despite his occasional insecurities. And she would cherish him always. She remembered Quin’s words the previous day, cherish every minute he is in this world with you. I would give me life to spend one more minute in a world inhabited by me Aileen, even if I were not with her durin’ that minute. She would certainly cherish every minute. Minerva believed she would have done so, in any case, but Quin’s words made her very aware of the fragility of life. That day that Quin had seen his wife off on her outing, he had no thought that she might never return, that she would die suddenly and violently. No, Minerva thought, she would never take Albus for granted, nor their time together.

Minerva set the letter on her bedside stand, then took off her glasses and put them on top of the letter. Before she extinguished the lights, however, she picked up the small photograph of Albus that she had treasured for so long. She smiled as she placed a fingertip on the delicate rose. The charm was holding very well; she didn’t think she would need to refresh it for quite some time. She had taken the second red rose that Albus had given her and cast drying and preserving charms on that one, as well, and had placed it with all of the letters in her wooden chest, on top of the still somewhat wrinkled note that he had sent her on Wednesday. She couldn’t very well save every flower that Albus gave her, especially as he seemed to enjoy giving her flowers, but that particular one was a reminder of their first real date and was, in a sense, the counterpart to the one that she had affixed to this little frame. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to discard it.

Yes, Albus had been courting her, though neither of them had been aware of it. Minerva had sometimes sensed that he was, but Albus had never been able to tell her how he felt about her. She didn’t doubt that he might still have some difficulties adjusting to their new relationship, but they had certainly made a breakthrough that night on the rooftop. She did have a great physical desire for him, and for more than simply having him bring her to the height of passion as he had, but she would try to restrain herself for his sake, until he was ready for greater intimacy between them. She didn’t want to rush him. Minerva smiled to herself, remembering how lovely it had been simply to rest in his arms, to feel safe, warm, secure, and loved as Albus held her. He certainly seemed to appreciate physical affection beyond the sexual, which pleased Minerva. While she wasn’t a terribly demonstrative person, generally, she did want to be affectionate with Albus. As he had said, one of the wonderful things about embracing her, was that he received an embrace in return, and she felt the same way.

Minerva touched the small black and white photograph one last time, remarking again how weary Albus seemed in it, then she set it back down on her bedside stand, behind the twinned stones and the nazar sitting in its nest of cord. She picked up her wand, flicked it, extinguishing the lights, then put it back down and settled into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

After leaving Minerva, Albus walked back to his hidden backstairs, a bounce in his step. Despite his fatigue, he felt like singing and skipping down the main corridor, but even with his reputation for eccentricity and the fact that there were likely no witnesses other than a few portraits, Albus restrained himself, limiting his expression of joy to a big grin on his face. When he reached the narrow, barren side hall to his stairway, however, he did begin to whistle, the tune echoing against the walls and the high ceiling. As Albus approached the heavy oak door, he chuckled to himself. He had been whistling a rather lively version of “Scarborough Fair”; there was only one witch for him from now on, no matter how much he might appreciate the company of others. Dear, sweet Minerva. And they had certainly overcome the seemingly impossible in order to learn that they were truly in love.

He mounted the stairs that led to his bedroom, and he thought that Minerva was somewhat naive about the genuine and significant difficulties that would face them, not the least of which being their age difference. For now, though, Albus wanted to enjoy courting her and pleasing her. He loved to see the happiness in her eyes, and her appreciation when he presented her with a surprise. There would be time enough, he thought, to discuss practical difficulties – or simply to encounter them. They would only increase once the school year began; it was inevitable. If he weren’t Headmaster, those particular obstacles would not be insurmountable, though they would take considerable effort to overcome, but his position, combined with Minerva’s responsibilities as Head of House . . . Albus shook his head. The difficulties presented them by their positions were not insurmountable, either, but they would require a great deal of ingenuity and patience to overcome.

Albus got ready for bed, changing into his favourite summer nightshirt of narrow red and gold stipes on a creamy background. Unlike his winter nightshirts, which skimmed his ankles, his summer nightshirts only reached his calves. He washed, brushed his hair and beard, using a special Charmed beard brush Gertrude had given him years ago, then waved his wand and cast an antitangling charm on his hair.

He climbed into bed, then reached over and picked up Big Ben and wound it by hand. Albus hesitated, then he set the alarm for eight o’clock. It was already almost two, but he knew that Minerva tended to be an early riser, and he didn’t want her to have to wait for him to be ready for breakfast. Perhaps he should have been more specific about a time for her to meet him, but if she could sleep late, that would be nice for her. He set his Muggle alarm clock down and waved a hand to extinguish the lights.

Despite his fatigue, Albus found it difficult to fall asleep. Possibly the coffee with the dessert had not been a very good idea. His mind wandered back to Minerva’s pleased reaction to his little rooftop surprise, and he smiled. He did so love to do things for her, and now he was more free to give her little treats and surprises than he had been. And, of course, there had been her reaction to his other . . . treat for her. He had not planned that at all; it had been a surprise even to himself. A surprise that he had touched her as he had and a surprise that she had reacted the way she did. His smile grew. Minerva had not feigned the reaction, he was certain. She had been utterly limp in his arms.

These thoughts created increasing arousal in himself, and Albus closed his eyes and remembered Minerva’s face as he had caressed her. He had not stopped Minerva from touching him because he had any discomfort with the idea – or at least, that had not been his primary reason, nor sufficient – no, he had wanted to savour that moment with her and not have it lost in some subsequent . . . activity. He had wanted to simply hold her and relish the sensation of her warm body in his arms and the very present memory of having brought her such pleasure.

Albus wished to save his passion for Minerva. Even if it were weeks before they made love – and despite that night’s activities, Albus planned to court Minerva properly and not rush her – even if it were weeks, he would rather wait. He hoped that he didn’t encounter any problems – he was sure he would be nervous that first time, and not only from wondering whether he still might disgust her, as unlikely as that now seemed, or whether could please her, but also because it had simply been so many years. And the charms that he had practised with Gertrude and even, though she had been unaware of it, with Maria . . . perhaps they would fail. Not that he needed them, they were simply nice . . . embellishments. But there was one charm in particular that he did not wish to have fail. He would certainly review that charm, and he would do so the very next day. After all, it had been botching a similar charm that had been the indirect cause of Dervilia’s death. Albus shuddered. No, he had to get that one right, and though he had no doubt that Minerva knew a few witches’ charms, as well, it was his responsibility.

Whatever form their first love-making took, or when it occurred, Albus thought to himself as he began to grow sleepy, he would ensure that Minerva felt safe, secure, loved, and in complete control. Albus fell asleep thinking of Minerva and her love, again in amazement that he could feel so very happy.

Late the following day, Minerva watched as Malcolm followed Gertrude out of the staff room, on their way who-knew-where, and she was unsure whether she was sorry she hadn’t had an opportunity to speak with him yet. He had apparently arrived at Hogwarts sometime that afternoon and had spent the time with Gertrude in, of all places, the Forbidden Forest. He had been appalled that in all the years she had taught there, Gertrude had never been beyond the fringes of the Forest, and as a student, had only gone in on class outings, again, never beyond the fringes; so Malcolm had, as he put it, “reacquainted himself with the wood and given Gertrude a bit of a tour.” Neither seemed the worse for it, though Minerva did think that Gertrude looked a bit drained. She had probably been on edge the entire time they had been on their “tour,” no matter that Malcolm, full of confidence, had been with her.

Minerva rather doubted that Gertrude would just happen to mention to Malcolm that Albus and she were now involved. Surely the two had more interesting things to do than discuss her and Albus. Still, it might have been a good thing to have been able to speak with him after dinner; but now, of course, she could spend the entire evening with Albus. They had had a lovely morning. She had discreetly waited until eight-thirty to go up to his suite, despite having woken at seven. They’d had breakfast, then taken a short walk before Albus had to get to work. He promised her, though, that they would spend the evening together, and she had broached the idea of going away for a few days, the two of them together, before school began on the first. Albus had seemed somewhat stunned by the suggestion, and Minerva was slightly embarrassed. She hadn’t meant that they would go away together in quite the way it had sounded when she said it – not that she would be averse to greater intimacy with him, but she was determined to try to be patient for his sake – but Albus had recovered his composure and said that it certainly sounded like a very nice idea, but they would have to think about it. It wouldn’t do to have the Headmaster away when everyone else was expected to be in residence, after all, and he did have certain things on his schedule that couldn’t be moved, or at least, not easily. Still, he would think about it and see what he could do to clear two or three days.

Minerva smiled. It would be nice if during those two or three days, they could overcome some of those final inhibitions Albus seemed to have, whatever their source. Sooner would be fine with her, too. But, she reminded herself, she would exercise patience. Or try to. Although it might not hurt to . . . stretch the boundaries a bit. Particularly if he repeated his actions of the night before, though, Minerva didn’t know how much patience she could exercise if he did that.

She heard Albus laugh at something Hagrid said, and a shiver passed through her. If only he had any idea of what even the sound of his voice or his laughter could do to her, let alone how she felt when he smiled at her – and when he touched her! Minerva began to grow warm, and it was only remembering her Occlumency exercises that kept her from blushing at where her thoughts were leading. Albus glanced over at her, and she looked away quickly. She knew that if he caught her eye, her composure would crumple and she would surely blush.

Minerva concentrated on her pudding, and was quite happy when Albus rose and asked her if she would be up for a game of chess. She agreed with alacrity, and the two left the staff room together. Minerva could scarcely contain herself and keep herself from throwing her arms around him and kissing him passionately. But someone else could walk out of the staff room or appear from elsewhere in the castle at any moment, so she simply straightened her back, held her head high, and walked up the stairs beside Albus, who made a few pleasantries about the day and the meal.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLIV: Rematch, continued

He stopped on the first floor and looked at her with an amused smile. “So, Professor McGonagall, did you have a productive day? I thought I might take a look at my old classroom and office, see what progress you have made.”

Her classroom was only a few yards away, and as much as she wanted to get up to his suite with him, Minerva nodded. “We can do that now, if you like.”

“That would be ideal, my dear,” Albus replied.

Minerva was intensely aware of Albus beside her as they walked to the classroom. It seemed to her that her awareness of him had been heightened after their time together the night before. That morning, he had embraced her and kissed her, but he had, rather to her disappointment, initiated no other intimacies, and she, remembering her promise not to rush him, didn’t press him, either.

They reached the classroom, and when Albus closed the door behind them, he did a bit of the wandless magic that still never failed to impress Minerva. He turned to Minerva, and she was very aware of how close to each other they were standing.

“You seemed to require some of the Headmaster’s time and . . . personal attention, Professor McGonagall. I thought perhaps rather than wait, we would come . . . straight . . . here,” Albus said in a low voice that sent shivers of pleasure through Minerva, and he raised one hand and touched her arm very lightly, a mere grazing touch, but it caused her to take in her breath sharply.

Minerva swallowed and looked up into his eyes. They seemed a deeper blue than ever, and his pupils were dilated as he gazed down at her. She licked her lips, then said, “I did require your personal attention, as you say, but I could have waited.”

“Could you, indeed?” Albus said, quirking a slight smile. “Well, then, would you care to show me your classroom, Professor? Or would you prefer to begin with your office?” He made no move away from her, however, and continued to gently caress her arm with his fingertips.

“I think that it is more in the way of personal attention that I am needing from the Headmaster,” Minerva said.

“Really?” he asked with a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Something in the way of this sort of attention, then?”

Coming no closer to her, nor ceasing his tantalising caresses, only moving them to the side of her breast, he bent his head and kissed her lips softly, lingeringly, then he whispered, his words a breath against her lips, “This sort of attention, Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes,” Minerva breathed, “that sort is a start.”

“A start?” Albus asked before gently pulling her lips between his own. He licked his lips and hers, too, then asked in a low voice, “And would this be the proper way to proceed from there?”

Albus brought his fingertips around to caress her further through her robes, as he continued his gentle, seductive kisses of her lips. He moved her over-robe aside as he caressed her, eliciting an intake of breath from Minerva. Albus chuckled in pleasure and delight at her reaction as he resumed his tantalising touches, covered in cotton and silk though she still was.

Minerva raised her hands to rest them on his upper arms, not wanting to obstruct Albus’s movements, and when Albus brought his other hand up to caress her other side in the same way, she moaned. Albus made an answering, low sound in his throat, and deepened his kiss, parting his lips further, bringing hers with them, and beginning a slow, languid caress of her mouth with his tongue, as though learning and treasuring its every contour.

Albus slipped his arms around Minerva and held her close to him. Without thinking, Minerva put her arms around his neck, then she pressed herself against him, arching her back slightly to increase her contact with him. This time it was Albus who moaned, and he broke from their kiss in a gasp and buried his face in her hair, his lips coming to rest near her ear, where they reflexively kissed the gentle curve of her ear. He let out a shuddering breath, and Minerva brought one hand down to caress his shoulder and back.

He took a steadying breath, then he kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, before drawing back to look down at her with a smile.

“Was that the sort of personal attention you were requiring, Professor McGonagall?” he asked teasingly.

“Precisely, Professor Dumbledore,” Minerva responded, and the sound of her pleasant burr brought a wider smile to his face, and he kissed her forehead again lightly.

“Will that hold you a while, then?” Albus asked. “I really did hope that we would play a game or two of chess this evening.”

“Of course,” Minerva said. “I would enjoy that very much, myself.”

“I have not yet disconnected this Floo from mine, though I meant to do so when I connected it up to your sitting room. Would you care to Floo through to my office?” he asked.

“Yes, I would – and you needn’t disconnect it. Unless you feel you must, of course,” Minerva added hurriedly.

“I feel no imperative to do so,” he replied with a twinkle as they walked to her office, “if you would not view it as an invasion of your privacy.”

“Not at all, Headmaster,” Minerva replied with a shy grin. “In fact, I would be pleased if you would see fit to invade my privacy on occasion.”

Albus chuckled. He took up a pinch of Floo Powder and explained, “At the moment, I can Floo freely to and from my office, but I am afraid that you cannot, because of certain security wards on the internal Floo Network. I can, however, create a bypass for those wards by creating a password for you to use when Flooing from your office to mine. No such measure is required, of course, from your sitting room Floo, as you are Head of House.”

They Flooed through to his office, then walked up the brass stairs to his sitting room.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Albus, who else has the ability to climb your stairs to your suite besides Gertrude and I?” Minerva asked.

“No one. Only the two of you,” Albus answered.

Minerva knit her brow. “You know,” she said, “as much as I am sure you value your own privacy, and as well as your current . . . system has worked till now, I do think that it is somewhat impractical. Have you considered merely requiring a password? You could have an invisible barrier that would lift upon the issuance of the proper password. You could require a second password at your sitting room door, if you liked. But this way, at least people would be able to go up and knock, and you could still only give the password to a few select staff members.”

“Yes, well . . . perhaps,” Albus said. “Gertrude has said something similar. But this has worked well enough. Phineas Nigellus can always pop up to my sitting room – or one of the other headmasters or headmistresses if he is not available – and announce someone if, for some reason, I have not gone down to see who has arrived in my office.”

“But what if there were some other sort of an emergency? If you . . . I don’t know, had an accident, or became ill?”

“Wilspy would learn of that before anyone could accidentally happen upon me, I assure you, Minerva,” he said reassuringly, “although I do appreciate your concern.”

“Well, what about those occasions when you don’t notice your gargoyle’s charm? When you are deeply asleep? Does Phineas Nigellus simply come up to your sitting room and begin shouting for you?”

“Yes, actually, he has done in the past. Now, though, I have a small picture on my bedside table, and he can pop in there and wake me, if necessary. He claimed it was undignified to have to shout for me from the sitting room. Portraits can be such peculiar things,” Albus said as he Summoned a set of chessmen in their little case.

Minerva laughed. “They certainly can be, although I have often thought that the Silent Knight and Fidelio are the most peculiar I have yet encountered.”

Albus chuckled. “I do believe they are the most peculiar I have encountered, myself, and that is saying something. Did I ever tell you how he and his dog came to grace your door?”

Minerva shook her head, and Albus told her how he had been trying to find a suitable portrait and had gone to one of the castle’s many storerooms. He had been just about to choose a portrait of Scáthach when the Silent Knight broke his silence and said, “I will serve the lady.”

“I had never heard the Knight speak before, despite the fact that he hung in Gryffindor Tower the entire time I was a student, then Dippet had him in the staff room for several years, until he replaced him with Little Boy Blue several years ago. He decided that if we were going to have a portrait that never spoke, we should have one who will speak when he is awake, even if that isn’t often,” Albus said as he charmed a chessboard onto his table and set up the chessmen. “So when he said he would serve you – and this despite my not having uttered a word upon entering the store room – I took a look at him, and he offered me his sword, or tried to, anyway, and so I chose him instead of Scáthach. He is an odd one . . . he doesn’t seem to be constrained by the wards nor by the rules governing the Portrait Network, although I inserted him into the Network myself, something I have been doing without a hitch for twenty years.” Albus shook his head. “We will have to explore this puzzle further, I believe.”

“Perhaps after our few days away,” Minerva suggested as she took her place on the black side of the chessboard. “Have you given that more thought, Albus?” She didn’t look at him, hoping that he had thought about it, but that he hadn’t decided against it.

“Yes, I have given it more thought . . . and I think it might be possible.”

“You don’t seem very enthusiastic about the idea,” she said, as she moved out her king’s pawn, still not looking up at him, but wondering whether he thought the idea, and its mention, too forward of her. “This morning you seemed . . . even less so.”

“I was simply surprised by the idea. It is a fine one, though. With the school about to be filled to the gills,” he said as he examined the chessboard, “we will have far less time alone together. Getting away for a few days would be nice, if we can manage it.”

Minerva examined the possibilities still open to her after Albus’s move, trying to see what his response might be to each of them, then she said, “I was actually worried that, well, that you would think it too forward of me.” She made her move, then added, “I know that we haven’t been . . . involved for very long, but we have been friends for years. It’s not as though we are newly acquainted, nor as though we were too young to know enough of the world or each other to be spending that kind of time together.”

Albus nodded and countered her move. “I agree. But . . . it was a surprise on more than one level.” He raised his eyes and looked at her. “I am glad we are talking, and I hope that . . . that I may speak freely.”

Minerva nodded. “Of course.” And she meant it. She would listen to what he had to say, whatever it was, and try not to make him regret having been open with her. She knew that the relationship had been difficult for him even to recognise, let alone to enter into, and yet once he had told her of his love, he had not backed away, despite his fears and his discomfort. She could only honour his truth, regardless of how she felt about it.

“I was slightly surprised,” he explained, “because I still am amazed that you want to be with me.” He paused, anticipating her objection to what he had just said, and he let out a breath of relief when she simply nodded. “And it seemed a confirmation that you enjoy your time with me almost as much as I enjoy being with you.”

This time, there was an objection. “Not to make this a competition, Albus, but I do object to your use of the word, ‘almost,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Albus blushed, but nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes . . . and that still stuns me, though I suppose it shouldn’t, as we have been friends for a long time before this and you never seemed reluctant to spend time with me in the past.” He paused to make his next move, seeming scarcely to give it any thought. “But beyond that, it is all new to me, despite our long friendship. I am very happy to be becoming accustomed to your love and your new place in my life, although I will never, I hope, become so used to your presence in my life that I take you for granted, my dear,” he said, taking her hand briefly and kissing her fingertips. “So the idea that we would consider going anywhere other than here was very new to me. I am enjoying our time together here at the castle so much, that although I had given thought to certain outings we might take, it had never crossed my mind that we might go away even overnight, let alone a few days, especially so close to the start of the school year. And then . . .” Albus hesitated. “Please, Minerva, do not take this amiss in anyway, but . . . although I certainly find this a lovely and welcome idea, and I am also not . . . um, it’s not as though I haven’t had such time away with, um, a special witch in the past, um . . . and I don’t in the slightest disapprove of the suggestion. . . . Indeed, I approve wholeheartedly with the sentiment and the, um, the goal . . .” Albus blushed again.

“You were surprised that it was I who came up with the idea, and not you who issued the invitation?” Minerva asked finally.

Albus nodded, then, almost as though he were speaking to the chessboard, he said, “Yes . . . that, and . . . well, again, please do not take this amiss, but when I was your age, it is not a suggestion that the young lady in the relationship would make. Not so directly, anyway, not the first time. And not after such a short period of courtship. Not that one wouldn’t, of course. Go off for a few days of . . . privacy. We were more formal, but we weren’t . . . um, we weren’t without passion or intimate expressions of that passion, of course. Even when I was a very young man, younger than you are now.” He looked up at Minerva, worried at what her reaction might be, but on seeing her face, he smiled slightly and blushed. “You aren’t disturbed, I hope?” he said questioningly.

Minerva shook her head, smiling at him fondly. “No, I find you utterly and completely adorable. And I am very glad that you explained it to me. I was afraid that you just didn’t want to get away from the safety of Hogwarts, where you can retreat to your office and work if you feel . . . unsure of yourself or overwhelmed by everything. Not that I believe that you have done that, or even that it has crossed your mind to do so, but it remains a possibility as long as we are here in the castle. So hearing your gentlemanly concerns, it was quite reassuring, really. A bit . . . quaint, if you don’t mind my being equally honest with you, but sweet, really. Especially as I didn’t hear you say anything to indicate you thought it was wrong of me to make the suggestion.”

“Oh, no! Not at all, my dear! It was a lovely suggestion, and quite a welcome one. I was simply trying to explain – ”

“Trying to explain why you appeared momentarily taken aback by the suggestion when I first made it,” Minerva completed for him. “Yes, I see that. So . . . you say you have given it some thought. I have, as well, though I would like to hear your thoughts first.”

Albus shrugged. “I simply thought that we might take a few days at the beginning of the week. Ask Gertrude if she would mind taking charge for that time. It would be somewhat unusual for me not to be here when the staff begin to arrive, but my presence isn’t strictly required. The only true oddity would be for you not to be here, as well, especially when the rest of the staff has been required to return. However, I thought that perhaps I might change this year’s instructions, write to everyone and say that their return is requested any time between Sunday and Wednesday, and set the first staff meeting for Wednesday afternoon. If, then, we both are here on Wednesday afternoon, it is unlikely that anyone would notice our simultaneous and uncharacteristic absences.”

Minerva smiled. He really had given it some thought. Her smile was immediately followed by a frown, however, when he moved his knight and said, “Checkmate.” His chessmen immediately began to cheer and congratulate one another on a good game won.

“What? How . . . oh. I see,” Minerva said with a sigh. Her own men, at her signal, shook their tiny heads, dispirited, and slouched back to their own side of the board, and Albus flicked a finger at the board, bringing the white pieces back to their homes.

“It’s early yet, Minerva. Another game?” Albus asked with a smile.

“Hmm, yes, I suppose, but what about some tea first? Something . . . sprightly?” Minerva suggested.

Albus laughed at the term, but agreed to a “sprightly” tea. He called Wilspy, and rather than request a specific tea, asked her to bring something sprightly. Wilspy giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, then popped away with a snap of her fingers.

Minerva leaned back. “I suppose I wasn’t paying proper attention,” she said. “Soon, you will believe that my father exaggerated my abilities in chess.”

Albus chuckled. “No, indeed, you gave me a very good game. And soon you will learn all my tricks and see right through them.”

Minerva shook her head, but she laughed, and said, “Unlikely, but I look forward to spending time trying!”

Tea arrived, and Minerva decided to take a sip before adding any sweetener or milk. She smiled. “Very interesting. I can taste some orange, and ginger, cardamom . . . rosehip, I believe. And . . .” She took another sip. “And lemon balm, perhaps?”

Albus chuckled. “You may never have excelled in Potions, at least not in comparison to your siblings and your Egidius and Parnovon kin, but you certainly have a Potions Master’s nose.” He sniffed his tea again, not having yet tasted it. “I believe you have only left out . . . a touch of clove, and . . . anise – no a little fennel. Just a touch of both.” He sipped the tea and nodded. “But otherwise, you were right on all counts!”

Minerva smiled and went warm with his approval. She watched as he added a little honey to his tea, though not as much as he usually did, perhaps because the tea was so highly flavoured without it.

“So, is this a sprightly tea, my dear?” Albus asked with a grin.

“Quite! Most definitely a canty one,” Minerva said with a little laugh, raising her cup to her lips, her eyes smiling back at him.

“Perhaps a bit like you, then,” Albus said with a wink, causing Minerva to laugh again and blush.

---

Note: I hope you all enjoyed this addition to the story! Thanks for all your comments on the last chapter!

[Hogwarts Duo]

First off...CONGRATULATIONS on having a featured story on TPP. Maybe more people over there will learn to appreciate the goodness that is ADMM romance.

I love, love, love Albus’ socks! I want a pair just like them! The way they were described made them sound so adorable and very much like what I would expect Albus to wear. You’re so good with the detail bits of the story. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when he announced that he’d named the snake Esmerelda. How cute and it’s nice to know she’s a very peaceful snake…lol.

She twitched a smile, thinking of other activities they could engage in with fewer clothes on, but she said nothing more.

Oh I bet she had a few thoughts on the matter. I really admire Minerva’s resolve not to say or do anything that might put more pressure on Albus. I have to admit, though, that my mind also made that connection when she said that about not wearing socks. I couldn’t help but wonder if Albus’ thoughts travelled down that same path as well.

“You can be naughty!”
Albus’s eyes sparkled. “I can be quite naughty, under the right circumstances, my dear!”
Minerva chuckled. “I look forward to creating the right circumstances for you to be . . . naughty with me.”

Ohhhhh, such promising words! Dare I hope that you’re foreshadowing events which we will see in later LEMON SCENTED chapters??? I can just hear Albus (in Richard Harris’ voice) enunciating the words in that sentence, especially quite.

Minerva had wanted to cry and to hold him when he was telling her about it, but she knew instinctively that that was the wrong reaction at that moment, that he needed her to accept his pain and to wipe away the nastiness that Valerianna had left behind.

I’m glad Minerva was able to restrain herself when she heard what Valerianna had said to Albus. I think it was hard enough on him to open up to her and share that big part of himself with her. To do anything other than what she did might have caused them more distress and him more insecurities or doubts. We don’t need any more of those…nope, no more of those!

Albus is such a sweetheart. I’m happy that he had given the idea of them going away for a few days some serious thought. And to have actually formulated a plan to get away…GO ALBUS!!! I’m sure that went a long way towards brightening Minerva’s evening…and mine too. He seemed so shy when he explained how he’d been surprised by her suggestion. And of course, Minerva said and did exactly the right thing for him in response to his reasons. She didn’t make fun of him or call his ideas silly but she accepted his reasons and let him know that she respected them. Awwww! Now I do hope we’re going to get to see that little getaway they’re planning!!! Is that going to be included in RaM and if not, how about a one-shot? Wink wink, nudge nudge!

Looking forward to the next update!! Oh and I posted a separate little blurb in the lemon section for those tangier bits!

TTFN,
GLM

[MMADfan]

hogwartsduo said:

First off...CONGRATULATIONS on having a featured story on TPP. Maybe more people over there will learn to appreciate the goodness that is ADMM romance.

There are a few converts over there already, including one who initially was squicked by the idea of ADMM lemons and who is now an ADMM-shipper, full-throttle! Hee! She should get an award or something!

hogwartsduo said:

Now I do hope we’re going to get to see that little getaway they’re planning!!! Is that going to be included in RaM and if not, how about a one-shot? Wink wink, nudge nudge!

Looking forward to the next update!! Oh and I posted a separate little blurb in the lemon section for those tangier bits!

TTFN,
GLM

Okay, GLM, stop hacking into my computer, or reading my mind, or whatever you're doing! haha! Of course we will see their little vacation -- and even though it will happen w/in the time-frame of RaM, I may only do a lemony version. (Doing multiple versions and posting them is a bit of a time-consuming task, and this way, I could feel free to write whatever I liked without worrying how on earth I was going to edit it for the general board and ffnet. ;D)

I'm glad you liked Albus's socks, and Esmerelda. Can you guess when he received them, and from whom?

Thanks for the review -- I'm off to peek at the other one! I look forward to everyone's comments!

[MMADfan]

Note: Because of mature content & language, this version of the chapter has been mildly edited. The full, unexpurgated version of the chapter is available in the Lemons forum.

Posted in three parts because of length.

CXLV: Age Cannot Wither

Minerva leaned back, sipping her tea, and watched Albus as he drank his. He smiled at her.

“Am I that fascinating?” he asked.

Minerva blushed and said, “I had to keep trying not to look at you this evening at dinner. I was certain that if I did, I would not be able to tear my eyes from you, and everyone would know precisely how I feel about you.”

Albus’s eyes shone. “And how would that be, Minerva?” he asked in a warm tone.

Minerva’s blush didn’t fade, but she answered, “I love you, Albus, I love you and I desire you, and I want us to share the rest of our lives together, and I want to spend all of that time showing you just how very much I love you.” She reached across the chessboard, took his hand, and held it between hers.

Albus smiled, gazing at her fondly. “I don’t believe I will ever become accustomed to those words, no matter how often you say them.”

Minerva picked up her teacup again, but still held his hand with her other one. “I would like to test that hypothesis of yours, then, by reminding you of it daily.”

Albus’s grin widened. “Please do, my dear. It might also assist in keeping doppelganger-Albus at bay.”

“Do you require another treatment?” Minerva asked gravely, trying to keep from smiling.

“I leave that up to your professional assessment, and bow to your judgment,” Albus said, his eyes twinkling.

Minerva set her cup down and stood up, stepping around the table. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth, tasting the tea and honey on his lips.

She pulled back and looked at him lovingly, then said, “I don’t detect even the slightest hint of doppelganger-Albus’s presence, but perhaps a more extensive examination and treatment is nonetheless warranted.”

She bent and kissed Albus again, then she put a hand on his shoulder as one of his arms encircled her waist and he pulled her into his lap. Minerva caressed his face as she kissed him, teasing him slightly with her tongue. She slid further into his lap, and against her thigh, she could feel his reaction to her presence. Minerva shifted slightly and trailed her hand from his shoulder down his chest to his sternum. She stopped herself, though, resting her palm flat against him then smoothing it over his chest and around his side. Breaking from the kiss, she took a deep breath then let it out slowly as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I adore you, Albus. I absolutely adore you, you know,” she said softly.

Albus’s response came in the form of a kiss to her forehead, and Minerva could feel him relax as he kissed her forehead again then lay his cheek against it.

“Albus?” she said after a few minutes.

“Yes, my dear?” he answered, his voice low in her ear.

“You were speaking of the way things used to be, the way things were when you were younger . . . I was just wondering . . . if you don’t mind, that is . . . I was wondering what it was like to court Dervilia, what she was like. You don’t have to speak of it if you don’t want to, of course,” Minerva said. She hoped that Albus had enjoyed his courtship of Dervilia, and that remembering it might give him a reinforced sense of the absurdity of Valerianna’s lies, regardless of the difference in his age then and now. In fact, he was likely an even better lover now than he was in his youth simply by virtue of his age and experience.

“No,” Albus said very softly, “I don’t mind . . . but it was a very long time ago. Not precisely fresh in my mind, you know.”

Minerva nodded against him, but was quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“As I say, it was a different time, with somewhat different customs,” Albus began. “Dervilia actually caught my eye second year, in Herbology. She was a Hufflepuff, you see, and we took Herbology with them, and I was partnered with her that year. That was the way the instructor always did it, pairing students from different Houses. Professor Campbell was from Nova Scotia originally and hadn’t attended Hogwarts as a student, and I don’t believe she fully approved of the House system here. Dervilia was very cute and very lively. She had a sweet Irish lilt, beautiful hair of red-gold, rosy cheeks, and freckles across her nose, which I found fascinating, for some reason peculiar to a twelve-year-old. So I had a bit of a crush on Dervilia even then. But, of course, having a crush on her meant that I went out of my way to pretend not to like her . . . until I was about, hmm, fifteen, I suppose. Then I managed to get one of her friends, another Hufflepuff, Bertrand Prince, to invite me along when they all took tea in Hogsmeade one Hogsmeade weekend. There used to be a tearoom that was approved for students to visit – visits were much more strictly regulated then than they later became – the Creamery Kneazle,” Albus said, remembering with a smile. He chuckled. “I haven’t thought of that little place in decades. When old Mrs Kirk died, though, her daughter and son-in-law closed it up. It was where the Quidditch shop is now.

“After that, I always managed to invite myself along to wherever she and her friends were going to be on Hogsmeade weekends. And when I learned that she was in the Gobstone Society – it was a ‘society’ then, not a club – I joined that, too. Finally, one weekend my sixth year, I invited her to go to the Creamery Kneazle with me, just the two of us. Of course, it wasn’t as though we were alone. There was always a member of staff in any of the approved shops, and a few others who would patrol and make sure that there were no students in places that were unapproved. But to me – and to Dervilia – it seemed quite . . . quite a step.” Albus smiled to himself, then continued. “I was pleased to be able to magnanimously tell her she could have whatever she liked, and when I paid, I ostentatiously paid with a Galleon and received a lot of change back, of course. Silly of me, really, but I wanted to impress her. It was the only Galleon I had, and it would have been just as easy to have paid with a couple of Sickles, but . . . I was young. And I didn’t know how else to impress her.”

Albus thought a moment. “So . . . that was how our courtship began, I suppose. It wasn’t many weeks later that I told her that I intended to court her, if she would allow it. Dervilia laughed and said she did assume that was what I was doing. She laughed a lot, did Dervilia. And often at me, but never cruelly. She was good for me, I believe . . . though I was not very good for her.” Albus sighed. “Anyway, you asked how I courted her. I bought her trinkets, and we took walks on the grounds, usually under the watchful eye of the staff. There were occasions when we . . . when we found more privacy. But never in the castle. I was a prefect, and later, head boy, and I knew very well that every spot that any student believes to be secluded and unknown had long before been discovered by other students and that the staff were aware of most of them. I didn’t wish to sully Dervilia’s reputation by having her caught alone with me. Not that we did anything very . . . risque, but just the two of us being alone, unchaperoned . . . .” Albus shook his head. “It simply wasn’t done. Not unless a couple was engaged, and then still not on the school grounds, though if they were caught alone, no one really said anything. It was simply frowned upon. But one day in May . . . I knew a place in the Forest, and although Dervilia did not like to break school rules, and, as a prefect, neither did I particularly, we were both . . . well, only whispering together and walking arm and arm, or possibly holding hands, was difficult at sixteen, you know. So I brought her to a safe spot in the Forest, one that was not difficult to reach without being seen, and I cast a few nice wards – which impressed her, as I hoped it would. And I kissed Dervilia for the first time. It wasn’t much of a kiss, I suppose. But it was the first time I had kissed a girl, and I rather doubt that she had kissed a boy before, so it was quite something for me. But even then, we essentially used our privacy to talk. It was wonderful to be able to talk without wondering whether we were being overheard.” Albus had a dreamy, nostalgic expression on his face.

“We talked, and I removed my outer student robe, placing it on the ground for her to sit on, Transfiguring it so it was more comfortable for her. Under my black student robe, I was wearing my robes with the bright blue stripes, I remember, and there was a bright yellow ribbon, a broad bow, beneath its floppy collar. I thought I looked particularly fine. Dervilia looked very pretty, as she always did. I remember that she had her hair down, and she had a velvet ribbon the colour of the pine trees in her red-gold hair. She let me put my head in her lap as we talked. I thought that was the height of love at the time.”

Albus went quiet, gently stroking his fingers over Minerva’s face and hair.

“And so how did you decide to marry?” Minerva asked. He seemed willing to talk about Dervilia; perhaps he wouldn’t mind answering that question.

Albus looked down at her with a smile. “We were quite . . . restrained, even out of the watchful eye of the castle. Our seventh year, we often went to that spot in the Forest. Eventually, however . . . you have to understand, I was very young, and somewhat . . . sheltered, I suppose, in some ways. One afternoon, as I kissed her, my hand strayed across her breast, and when I removed it placing it back on her arm, she kissed me again, and she took my hand and put it back there. I had never felt so aroused . . .” Albus blushed. “The next time we were there in our little glade, before I had done any more than hold her hand, she stopped, looked at me and removed her school robe. Then she . . . I don’t suppose she would mind me telling you,” he said as his blush grew, “she opened the bodice of her robe, then she unbuttoned a few of the buttons of her chemise. I don’t believe that I could breathe for watching her. Then she took my hand and let me touch her skin there.” He shook his head. “She really was hardly exposed at all, you understand, but it felt so very . . . intimate. The time after that, she did the same thing, but on this occasion, I boldly reached beneath her chemise. I remember how she closed her eyes, and though she didn’t say so, I knew that she enjoyed it. That was when I decided . . . I decided to bring her to my special place on the mountain opposite the school. And a few weeks later, we were able to break away from everyone else as we headed into Hogsmeade, and I Apparated her to the place that I brought you earlier this summer.”

He was quiet again, thinking, remembering, then he sighed. “We made love. And the next week, I asked her to marry me. It was only right, having made love to her, to offer her marriage. It was what one did then, at least if one was young. It was the way I was raised. And I believed I loved her. I did love her. But I had an unrealistic view of marriage. Dervilia loved me, and she agreed immediately. I asked her aunt and uncle, who had raised her, for permission to wed her, and they also agreed. They were Muggles, and so they didn’t know any better. If they had been a wizarding family, they might have heard old Eliza MacAirt’s predictions of doom, and forbidden the marriage. But we wed and we moved to her grandparents’ old cottage. I used a great deal of magic to fix it up, to make it comfortable for Dervilia. But I was rarely there. And then . . . and then I killed her – caused her death, at any rate.”

“No, Albus, you didn’t. It is unfortunate that you weren’t there when it happened, but even if you had had a normal wizarding job and come home every evening, it might still have happened,” Minerva said.

Albus shrugged. “I know that, but that wasn’t the only mistake I made. I didn’t accept my mother’s offer of Ferchil, her old house-elf – Wilspy’s uncle, I believe he was. But worse . . . it was because of me that she was pregnant.”

Minerva knit her brow. “Well, of course it was. But couples have babies. It is part of married life for most people. It couldn’t have been a surprise.”

Albus shook his head. “She was taking a monthly potion, one that I prepared, and one month, I didn’t make it. I was very busy, and I forgot. So I used a charm, instead, one I had only read about and had never used before. The books all say that while learning to use that charm, other methods should be employed, as well. But in my arrogance, I believed it was simplicity itself. I had always been very good with magic of every sort. Why should this be any different?” Albus sighed. “But it was, apparently, and I obviously didn’t cast it properly on one occasion. And Dervilia became pregnant. She was happy about it. We hoped, actually, that by the time she gave birth, I would be through with my apprenticeship, which is one of the reasons why I was away from home for such long stretches. I had been before, but now, I really wanted to prove myself and finish as soon as possible so that I could support my wife and baby. I should have quit the apprenticeship. I should have taken a job. I should have done many things differently.”

“But you didn’t. And I doubt that Dervilia would want you to still feel guilty about it after all of these years.” When Albus didn’t say anything, Minerva said, “I wish I hadn’t asked . . . I didn’t want you to feel badly. Not at all.”

“I am just a little sad, that is all.” Albus smiled down at Minerva, though somewhat wistfully. “Most of my memories of her, now that I think about it, are happy ones. And . . . I shouldn’t have married her. I should have listened to Eliza MacAirt. I should have simply waited and been patient, waited for you, my dear.”

“But if all of that hadn’t happened, then perhaps we never would have met, Albus. And we would not have the mated wands,” Minerva said.

“Perhaps not . . . or perhaps some things truly are fated to be, certain . . . patterns and shapes to events, anyway. Although I do wish I had never known Grindelwald as a youth, it was still my understanding of him and our previous acquaintance that allowed me to defeat him. Perhaps, somehow, for some reason, I still would have found Master Nyima and spent several months as the neighbour of Mother Dragon.” Albus shrugged again. “We cannot say what might have been. We can only work with what is now and hope to have some positive influence on events that will occur in the future.”

Minerva sighed and nodded. “Perhaps. I don’t hold much faith in divination in general, but it does seem as though some folk do have some kind of gift in that area. But from what I have read, such folk do speak of patterns that are laid out and difficult to alter, although individual events might be more malleable. And some events, they say, are necessary to the pattern and unalterable.”

Albus nodded. “I actually think that it is a mistake to think that just anyone can practice true divination, that it’s something that can be taught, like Charms – the sort of divination that the MacAirts are known for, at least. Oh, most people, even Muggles, can read tea leaves or Tarot cards and such, but the accuracy of any conclusions . . .” Albus shrugged. “It is quite a different matter when someone with a gift for divination does such a reading. And to use a crystal or other similar method, that definitely requires a true gift. And I personally believe that such a gift is of quite a different nature from our usual magical talents and magical power. Some of the most celebrated Seers have been relatively weak, magically, but the concentration of their talents in divination has made up for that. The MacAirts are unusual in that they are known not only for their divination skills, particularly the witches, but for their other magical talents. Many are gifted in Potions or Transfigurations, for example. I don’t know what gifts our Quin might have, but he has a very strong and singular magical signature. He is also quite gifted in divination for a MacAirt wizard, from what both Gertrude and Hafrena have told me.”

“Yes, well, he certainly read me quite clearly, and he didn’t use a crystal ball or anything of the sort. It was the most peculiar divination. But I do believe that however we met, we would have met, and it would have been inevitable that once we met, I would have fallen in love with you. You are, my darling Albus, too wonderful for words, and I must say that I am still amazed that you are available to me, and I mustn’t love you from afar while suffering watching you with some other witch who had been fortunate enough to find you before I could.” Minerva sighed in contentment and snuggled closer to him as she caressed his beard.

“No, no other witch, my dear . . .” Albus said, kissing her forehead. “None.”

Minerva wondered again about Gertrude. She was certain there was something there, something more than met the eye, whether they had ever had an intimate relationship or not, or whether Gertrude had desired more and Albus hadn’t – after all, he had said that he had chosen to live a retired life. A pity he had chosen to break his “retirement” by escorting that Yaxley person. Now there was someone with a face like a Horklump. Minerva sighed again. She would wait until Albus broached the subject on his own.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLV: Age Cannot Wither, continued

“You know, Minerva,” Albus said as Minerva played with the ends of his beard, “I was wondering . . . do you think that I might look a bit younger if I were to trim my beard and hair? A little less barmy?”

Minerva turned her head and looked up at him. “Barmy? I think you only look barmy when you choose to or to people who are utter fools. As for younger . . . I suppose you might. A bit. After all, it does take time to grow such a beard as you have.” Minerva hesitated. “Are you thinking of returning to the look you had a little earlier this summer? When you saw me off on my holiday?”

“Not that extreme. I just thought, perhaps somewhat like I had it when we met Brennan and Melina,” Albus answered.

“Oh. Well, if you wish.” After having gone on about how dreadful his grey robes were, Minerva wondered if Albus thought she would try to dictate his every sartorial decision. On the other hand, she didn’t want him to think that he was doing it for her when he didn’t really want to and she certainly didn’t want him to. “But only if you wish. You are a very handsome man no matter how I have seen you with your hair and beard, but if I may be honest, I very much like your beard and hair as they are. But as long as you didn’t shave your head, or do something like a Mohican, or anything peculiar like that, I suppose it is your hair. It is up to you.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic about the idea,” Albus said. “You genuinely prefer it this way? It isn’t simply because you’re being polite or because you are used to it this way?”

“Yes, I really do. As I told you before, most wizards couldn’t carry it off as you do. In fact,” Minerva said, “I saw a wizard the last time I was in London who had longish hair, greying, and a long beard, though not quite as long as yours, and he had these . . . these things braided into it. And he had a pot belly. I think he believed he was the epitome of style, but he looked quite bizarre and absurd, which you never do, even when you’re trying to appear somewhat eccentric. It would quite give me the shudders to have someone like that near me, but I have a feeling he would look bizarre and absurd no matter what he did, poor soul. Whereas you – although I do ask you don’t start braiding little things into your beard, unless it’s for a joke or something – you couldn’t be unattractive to me regardless of how long or short you decided to wear your hair.”

“And you wouldn’t prefer me to look a bit younger?” Albus asked.

“You would never look as you did fifty or sixty years ago, anyway, not without a Glamour, and it doesn’t matter to me that you look as old as you do. You look better than many wizards thirty or forty years younger than you are, Albus, so please don’t feel as though you don’t measure up somehow.”

“But when we’re seen together?”

Minerva chuckled. “Well, if we are being discreet, then very few people who see us together will actually have any idea that we are together. In this sense, anyway. And no one who does know is going to care on account of how you look. It sounded as though Gertrude was pleased about it, Quin certainly is, and no doubt, my parents are, as well. I have no idea how Malcolm will react, but I doubt he will care one way or the other. Whatever reservations any of them may have are irrelevant, in any case, and highly unlikely to have anything to do with how long you wear your beard and hair!”

Albus chuckled. “So I take it you prefer me not to make any changes?”

Minerva shook her head and said in a low voice, “I actually find your beard very, very attractive. And, if you will pardon the term, I think it is quite sexy.”

Albus blushed, as Minerva had thought – and rather hoped – he might. “Well, in that case,” he said, clearing his throat, “in that case, they will remain as they are unless I have need of a Glamour for some practical reason.”

“Good,” Minerva said, bringing her hand to his face and caressing him before combing her fingers through his hair and pulling him down while reaching up and meeting his lips in a kiss. “Mmm, very nice,” she murmured, then she repeated the kiss before leaning back again. She gazed into his eyes for a moment, then she shifted and said, “How are your legs? Am I too heavy yet?”

“No, not at all,” Albus replied. Minerva had shifted her weight a few times, and he was fine, if a bit warm.

Minerva stretched up and kissed him again, then she smiled up at him. “I am comfortable, myself, but a little . . . warm, being in your arms.”

She licked her lips lightly then kissed him again before leaning back in his arms. “Yes, a little warm,” she said.

Minerva moved her hand to the front of her robes and pulled on the ribbon that laced the front of her bodice, and the bow came untied. She put one finger into the lacing and tugged slightly, loosening the bodice. “There that’s a little better.”

Minerva smiled at the expression in Albus’s eyes. She reached back up and caressed his cheek again. She whispered, “Do you still enjoy seeing a girl open her bodice, Albus?”

Albus parted his lips slightly, then made a noncommittal sound, but his eyes travelled from Minerva’s face to her bosom and back again. Minerva thought that his gaze had ended in the wrong spot, as much as she did enjoy looking into his eyes.

“I do believe,” Minerva said softly, “that I am still somewhat too warm.”

She inserted one finger in the lacing again and pulled it looser, then she slowly drew one end of the ribbon through the top eyelet, watching Albus’s face as she did so.

She did the same with the other end of the ribbon, then she said in a warm voice, “So, Albus . . . do you enjoy seeing me loosen my lacing?”

Albus looked her in the eye and said hoarsely, “You know that I do . . . Minerva . . . . But you needn’t – ”

“But I am so very warm, Albus,” Minerva said, pulling both ends through the next set of eyelets at the same time. She took a deep breath and the bodice loosened further. “Aren’t you going to help me, Albus? Don’t you want to give me a hand?”

She took his free hand from where it rested on her hip, and brought it up, laying it on the exposed skin just above the edge of her bodice. Then she pulled the lacing again, and whispered, “Just slip your hand in there, my darling, help me loosen this up, hmm?”

Her breathing quickened as he did as she suggested, slipping his warm hand between her clothing and her skin. His eyes closed momentarily as he relished the sensation of her bare skin beneath his hand, and Minerva pulled more of the ribbon out, and the bodice fell open, revealing Minerva’s prettiest lacy chemise. Her fingers moved to the tiny buttons down the front of the chemise, and she quickly unbuttoned the first several, all that she could reach, as Albus moved his hand against her. Minerva closed her eyes and lay back more as Albus moved aside her chemise.

“Mmm.” Minerva let her head fall back as she opened her eyes slightly to watch Albus’s face as he watched his hand caress her, first one side, then the other, causing her to gasp in pleasure.

Albus kissed Minerva’s jaw, then her throat as he continued to caress her. His lips moved over her soft, sensitive skin and made their way lower, then he hesitated, stopping to look at her, then closing his own eyes and resting his palm to cover her.

“Oh, please, Albus, don’t stop . . . don’t stop, you needn’t stop,” Minerva said softly.

Albus opened his eyes and looked at Minerva; there was warmth and affection in his gaze, and a hint of wistfulness, Minerva thought.

He looked at where his hand lay against her. His hand seemed tanned, lined, and weathered against her soft, creamy skin, even with its blush of arousal, and it had been his awareness of her sweet softness beneath his lips that had caused him to pause. Then Albus had looked at his hand, which sometimes seemed the oldest, most aged part of him, and had seen it resting against her smooth, youthful skin, and he had hesitated further. She was still so young, very nearly a girl, and yet clearly a mature woman, as well. For a moment, his head swam, and Albus saw Minerva as she had been twenty years before, when she had first stepped into his classroom, her hair in a long, thick braid down her back. Her lips seemed the same as they had then, darkly rosy and slightly plump, prettily parted . . . and her eyes, that indefinable colour, sometimes seeming green, others, brown with a hint of gold at their centre, and then other times, dark grey with a deep green rim around them. Her eyes . . . Albus looked into Minerva’s eyes. They were darkly green at that moment, the colour of the tartan in her robe, with gold at their centres, and it seemed there were fine lines of gold radiating out from her dilated pupils toward the dark grey circles bordering her irises. He saw Minerva in those eyes, an ageless, beautiful Minerva . . . his Minerva. No, not his Minerva, but Minerva, his beloved. Beloved Minerva.

“Minerva,” Albus murmured, “Minerva, my beloved, my beloved Minerva . . .”

He bent his head and kissed her lips as he brushed his fingertips across her. His lips moved sensuously with hers, and he let out a long, low sound of satisfaction. Albus pulled back again slightly, smiling gently as his eyes met Minerva’s, his fingers still teasing her.

“Not stopping,” Albus said in a whisper, “merely pausing to see you.” He brought his hand up to her cheek, where his fingers grazed her softly. “I love you, my sweet Minerva, my beloved . . .”

Albus gathered Minerva up into his arms and kissed her again, then held her tightly against him, kissing the side of her head. “I love you so very much,” he whispered. “I wish to savour every moment.”

“I love you, too, Albus, I love you, too,” Minerva said, relaxing into his embrace. While she wished he would have simply continued as he had, she told herself that he had taken another step forward, and he had enjoyed it and seen that she had, as well. And she still was enjoying herself, as her skin rubbed against his beard. A long beard was so much softer and nicer than a short, bristly one, she thought, and she whispered, “I love to feel your beard against me like this, Albus.”

“Mmmm, do you really?” he asked, a smile in his voice. “We shall have to ensure that you have many opportunities to enjoy it, then.”

Minerva laughed softly, then sighed and closed her eyes.

“Sleepy, my dearest?” Albus asked.

“As much as I hate to admit it, yes, I am,” she replied.

“Then, may I assist you in . . . returning your clothes to their usual order, then walk you to your rooms?” Albus said. “We can play chess another night. Perhaps even tomorrow, if you like.”

“I had thought you could come to my rooms tomorrow evening, but I haven’t a chess set here at school,” Minerva answered.

“No? Well, I’ll bring mine, then.”

Minerva nodded against him, then brought her hands up and quickly buttoned her chemise. She whispered a lacing charm, bringing the ribbon back through its eyelets. “Tie it in a nice bow for me, Albus?” she said, pulling back to give him room.

He quirked a smile. “Do you prefer a spell or that I do it manually?”

“Manually, please . . . and I like them untied manually, as well. For your future reference, in case you ever . . . wish to help me unlace sometime,” Minerva said, fighting a blush.

“I am quite certain that I will,” Albus said in a low voice before he kissed her, then he drew the ends of the ribbon together, pulling on them slightly, and tied them into a bow, making it the same size as the one she had had previously.

“May I use your loo?” Minerva asked.

“Of course, my dear! Always feel free – no need to ask,” Albus said.

“Thanks – I’ll just be a moment.”

Minerva used the loo and freshened up – the activities had had quite an effect on her, and she only wished that Albus had experienced exactly what his touch had done to her. But there would be time for that later. She rejoined Albus in the sitting room.

“Let’s take the long way this time, Albus,” Minerva suggested. “I would like to have a bit of a walk with you before you say good-night to me.”

“Very well, my dear! As you wish,” he said, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it lingeringly before turning it over and kissing the inside of her wrist very softly.

“Continue doing that, Albus, and you won’t be able to walk me to my rooms as you wish,” Minerva said quietly, her gaze intense upon him.

Grinning puckishly, Albus gave her hand a squeeze, then he led her down to his office, and they rode the spiral stair down to the second floor, Albus turned toward her and kissing her as they descended. Minerva wished they were going up and not down, and that she could put her legs around him as they ascended to his office, then have him carry her like that into the office, close the door behind them, and then make love. These thoughts caused Minerva to moan and press herself against Albus.

They reached the second floor far sooner than Minerva wished, and when the broke their kiss at the base of the stair and the gargoyle opened the entrance for them, Minerva looked up at Albus and whispered, “You should either have a much longer staircase or a much shorter one.”

Albus’s own breathing was ragged, but he whispered, “I believe I tend to agree there . . .”

He let her go and gestured that Minerva should step through before him, then he followed her before the gargoyle snapped the door closed behind them. Albus offered her his arm, and they began to walk down the broad corridor in the direction of the main stairway, both trying to regain their composure, when they heard footsteps behind them. Albus and Minerva looked at each other, and by mutual unspoken agreement, they continued walking without looking to see who might be near. Albus steered Minerva toward a side corridor, but before they reached it, a voice hailed them. The couple stopped and turned, waiting for Malcolm to catch up with them.

“I thought I was the only one up and about,” Malcolm said with a grin as he came toward them. He was dressed in trousers, rather than the kilt he had been wearing earlier in the day, and he had a dark green, hooded cloak hanging loosely from his shoulders, though his head was uncovered and the hood thrown back, revealing his tussled curly dark auburn hair.

“On your way out?” Albus asked with a polite smile.

“Yes, just for a little while, though. I’ll be back in a couple hours – ” Malcolm broke off, looking over at his sister and blinking for a moment. “But, as I was saying, I am only going out to the Forest for a wee bit, then I’ll be back.”

Albus raised an eyebrow. “The Forbidden Forest? Now?”

“Yes – Trudie didn’t want to come, but she said it was all right. She is the Deputy Headmistress,” Malcolm replied, a slight chafing in his tone.

“And it is . . . I do assume that you will comport yourself properly and that you will be wary of the dangers posed. I was merely surprised,” Albus responded.

“Yes, well, surprises all around, aren’t there?” Malcolm said, seeming to address Minerva, his head cocked to one side, and then adding, “Gertrude was surprised I wanted to go out at this hour, but there is a plant I saw this afternoon that is only active well after sunset, the Nocturnal Dancing Umbratrope. I wanted to observe it for a while at the peak of its activity. It’s quite romantic. I had hoped that Tru would come with me, but – say! What about you two? Would you like to come?” Malcolm’s mood was suddenly bright and ebullient as this new idea struck him, and he looked at them both.

“Perhaps another time,” Albus said with a smile.

“Yes, thank you, Malcolm,” Minerva said, “but I am rather tired tonight. I was looking forward to my bed.”

Malcolm twitched a smile and said, “Yes, I see.” He nodded. “Good night, Professor, good night, Minerva – I’ll stop by tomorrow. We can . . . catch up.” With that, he turned and headed toward the main staircase at a good clip, and a moment later, his footsteps clattered down the stairs, echoing in the high, vaulted corridor.

“Well, that was odd,” Minerva said softly.

“Really, my dear? The Nocturnal Dancing Umbratrope is an interesting and beautiful plant. I can understand why he would wish to see it and why he would like to share the experience,” Albus answered.

“He just . . . there was something he was keeping himself from saying, and given that Malcolm is rarely concerned with being courteous or holding his tongue – ” Minerva shrugged. “I don’t know. It was the way he looked at me, I suppose.”

“Lest we encounter someone else unexpectedly, my dear, may I suggest an alternate route?” Albus said.

Minerva agreed, curious about what he had in mind. He led her down the side corridor on their left. When they reached the statue of a young, bearded wizard holding his staff with both hands, diagonally but close to his body, Albus passed his hand over the stone wall beside him, and a door shimmered then opened to them.

“We can take this passage to the sixth floor, then walk up from there, if that suits you, Minerva,” Albus said softly.

Minerva entered the peculiar corridor, which, though there were no stairs and no sense that one was leaving the level, led from the dungeons all the way up to the sixth floor.

“I took this passage that morning that I met you for breakfast the first time. I was running late, and the passage exits very close to your old rooms – this is it here,” Albus said, gesturing at the wall as they walked by it.

Minerva saw no difference between the wall and what Albus identified as the exit, and she said so.

Albus smiled and paused, stepping back a ways. He took Minerva’s hand and raised it to the wall. “Feel this here,” he said, “and then this, here.” He placed her hand first on one section of the wall then on another.

“Ah . . . yes, I feel the difference. I assume that the one that feels . . . rougher is the doorway?” she said questioningly.

“Yes, the one with the more distinct signature is the exit to the fourth floor.” He looked at her and grinned. “Why don’t you see if you can find the exit to the sixth floor, my dear?”

“Oh, no – I can barely feel the difference here and you told me precisely were the exit was. We’ll be in here all night if you leave it to me to find,” Minerva said, shaking her head.

Albus just chuckled. “I can think of more comfortable ways of spending the night with you, but not only do I believe you can find it, but I also promise that if it becomes too frustrating for you, I will bring you to the exit.”

Minerva sighed and kept herself from rolling her eyes. “All right, Albus, I’ll play along. Just give me a minute here first.”

Albus stood quietly and watched while Minerva familiarised herself with the sensations coming from the fourth floor exit and the wall around it, running her palms over the wall about a quarter inch from the surface, then doing the same thing using her wand. She furrowed her brow, pocketed her wand again, then repeated the process with her bare hand. Finally she nodded.

“You know, Albus,” she said as they walked up the passage, her palm skimming the stones of the wall beside them, “it is awfully late for playing games like this.”

“You needn’t, Minerva. I’m sorry. If you’re too tired – ”

“No,” Minerva said, “now I want to see if I can do it.”

“Um, in order to be completely fair, then, Minerva, I think I should mention that the exit on the sixth floor is not on that wall.” At her expression, Albus laughed. “I assumed that you might think of that, but it is late, as you have said.”

Minerva did roll her eyes at that, and she began to run her hand along the other wall. “Oh, Albus, this wall feels different from the other one!” she cried in frustration.

“Of course it does, but so does the exit! Don’t worry, my dear, I’m certain you can do it,” Albus said cheerily.

Minerva wasn’t as confident, but she gamely continued up the passageway, grateful that the torches set every several feet seemed to sense their approach and light themselves well before the two reached them. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that the torches now far behind them, near the second-floor exit, had extinguished themselves. Taking a deep breath, and glad that Albus was with her, Minerva shook off her creeping sense of claustrophobia and concentrated on the sensation of Hogwarts magic vibrating in the wall on her right. She wasn’t sure whether she could trust her ordinary senses in that peculiar passage, but she felt as though they had gone almost as far as they had when Albus had stopped and pointed out the exit to the fourth floor. She slowed her pace. Suddenly, a smile lit her face and she turned to Albus.

“Here! Is it here, Albus?” Minerva asked.

Albus smiled broadly. “It most certainly is.” He placed his own palm against the wall; it shimmered, then the door opened. Albus bowed to Minerva. “After you, my dear!”

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLV: Age Cannot Wither, continued

With a sigh of relief, Minerva was pleased to step through the doorway and into a narrow hallway, and Albus followed her. The door disappeared as soon as Albus stepped through it, and Minerva turned to see a portrait of a beardless youth, dressed in a kilt and tunic, a mischievous smile on his face, his staff held in his right hand and lifted as though in greeting. It seemed to Minerva like a Muggle portrait, as the youth did not move from his pose, but then he winked a brilliant blue eye at her, and she realised that it was, indeed, a wizarding painting.

“Is it the same wizard, Albus? The one here, and the one in the statue, and then the one in the tapestry down in the dungeon?” Minerva asked.

“Indeed,” Albus answered as they walked to the main corridor, “it is. The youngest representation is here, on the sixth floor, and the oldest representation is in the dungeon. There is no portrait or statue at the rooftop exit, however, only a staff, carved in relief beside it. The portrait on the fourth floor is also of the wizard, however. He is seated in that painting, and he rarely turns his face toward the world. He is younger than he appears to be in the tapestry, but older than the statue of him. He appears to be in mourning. None of the portraits ever speak, and they move very little, and the statue is likewise fairly static. I do not know whether it is because of the nature of the original charms on the paintings and tapestry or whether it is because the charms are so old that they have lost some of their vitality. I am curious about them, but I have never found the time to investigate them.” He smiled ruefully. “I find myself saying that quite often, I am afraid.”

Minerva returned his smile and said, “Perhaps over the next few years, you will find the time to explore all these mysteries and to discover new ones that you’ll have to put off investigating until another decade.”

They reached her rooms in what seemed to Minerva no time at all once they had left the secret passageway.

“So, Albus, come in for a bit? Join me for my bedtime cup of tea?” Minerva offered, sure that he would decline, but hoping that he wouldn’t.

“I would enjoy that very much, my dear – although perhaps you might permit me to Floo to my office if I were to remain a while?” Albus asked.

Minerva laughed. “It is your school, you are the Headmaster, of course you may!”

“You are the Head of Gryffindor, though. I would like you to feel as though this is your domain,” Albus replied as they entered her sitting room, Minerva having given the password to the Silent Knight. “Naturally, I am the Headmaster, but I do try to give the Heads of House respect due them and not make any presumptions. And simply because you and I are something more than Headmaster and Head of Gryffindor to one another does not mean that I should discard all deference due you. And even if we were in some other situation, I would not presume to use your Floo without asking.”

“Well, consider permission permanently granted, then. You may Floo in or out freely, as you wish and require, Albus,” Minerva said.

“I should call through first, though, Minerva, if I were to Floo in. I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything or intrude upon your privacy,” he said.

“Of course, that would be fine, quite sensible, but you really needn’t worry about interrupting anything. I may be busy with something, but you couldn’t ever truly intrude.”

“But even with our current relationship, surely you will want time to yourself, alone, even if I were not interrupting anything by dropping by. I cannot imagine that you will want to forfeit all of your privacy.”

Minerva shook her head. “Come with me while I fetch our tea,” she said, walking to her kitchen. “I cannot see that you would be popping in and out all of the time. You are a busy wizard. I am quite certain that I will have sufficient time to myself.” She began to prepare their tea. “It’s fine if you want to call through, make sure I’m not with a friend or colleague, or am about to go out, or something of the sort, and, of course, it would be less startling, but really, Albus, I want you to feel as though you can come see me as you wish, when you wish.”

“All right, then. I don’t tend to use the internal Floo-Network very much, myself, anyway. I just . . . I worry that I might become . . . stale to you after a while. If I hang about too much.”

Minerva chuckled and put down the pitcher she had just filled with milk; she turned to Albus, put her arms around him, and looked up at him with an affectionate but amused smile.

“My dearest, most darling Albus, first, you could never ‘hang about too much,’ mainly because I do not see you as ‘hanging about,’ but also because I could never, ever get too much of you. I must say, however, that you are making progress.” She reached up and gently caressed his face. Looking into his eyes, she said, “You are certainly making progress, since you did not once refer to yourself as an old codger or anything similar. Yes, ‘stale’ is definite progress, although still untrue. To paraphrase, age cannot wither you, nor custom stale your infinite variety, Albus, and I could never grow bored with your company nor desire that of another in your place.”

Albus smile. “I do love you, Minerva McGonagall.” He kissed her forehead. “I adore you,” he said in a low voice. “And I will never grow tired of seeing you, spending time with you, holding you, kissing you, and telling you how wonderful you are and how very much I love you.” He kissed her lips lightly. “But our tea is brewed, I believe. Let me help you with the tray, my dear.”

Minerva leaned against him and closed her eyes, feeling his right arm move slightly as he waved a hand, setting all of the tea things on the waiting tray. His arm moved once more before he put it around her, joining the other one in its embrace. Albus kissed the top of her head, but Minerva didn’t move except to hold him more tightly.

Albus rubbed her back, then he said, “Shall we have our tea?”

“Yes, of course . . . I simply wish that – never mind,” Minerva said, shaking her head.

“What, what do you wish, my dear Minerva?” he asked softly as she began to loosen her embrace.

She looked up at him and gave him a rueful grin. “I wish I didn’t have to let go of you, I suppose.”

Albus chuckled and kissed her temple. “Well, let’s go sit down together and drink our tea. You needn’t let go of me completely, not just yet, anyway.”

The two sat on the sofa and Albus, using magic, poured the peppermint tea for them, adding a little bit of honey to his, none to Minerva’s, and a touch of milk to both, before Levitating the cups and saucers to them.

Minerva smiled. “You know, you don’t usually use magic to pour our tea, but you did that quite nicely, especially without your wand.”

“I did say you didn’t need to let go of me just yet,” Albus said with a grin, “and I do like to keep my word.”

“But now I do, if I’m to hold the saucer while I drink from the cup,” she answered, beginning to pull her arm out from behind Albus.

“Really?” Albus let go of his saucer, and it remained floating in front of him as he brought his teacup to his lips and took a sip. He set the cup back on its saucer. “Try it, Minerva.”

Minerva shifted. There were particular spells she could do wandlessly with a certain degree of ease, but she didn’t think she could maintain a wandless Levitation Charm, not while using her one free hand to hold her cup. He overestimated her.

“Come now, it’s one you have been doing since your first year,” Albus said encouragingly as Minerva sat hesitantly, staring at her cup and saucer.

Minerva shook her head. “It doesn’t matter how long I have been doing it, Albus. It’s the coordination.” She started to draw her arm out from around him again, but Albus leaned back, trapping her arm.

He nodded toward her cup and saucer. “Just let go, Minerva, I have it for you.”

Minerva blushed, but she picked up her cup, sipped her tea, and left her other arm around Albus.

“What’s wrong, Minerva?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Nothing.”

“Something is,” he said.

Minerva sighed and put her teacup back on its saucer. She flicked her wrist and was relieved to see the cup and saucer obediently float over to the table and land with only a slight clatter.

“You overestimate my abilities, Albus. I am not untalented, but I do know my limitations. What you just saw was the extent of my ability to do wandless, nonverbal spells. I have to have at least a hand free to do it. I hope you don’t think . . . I hope you don’t think that simply by telling me to try to do something that I will suddenly possess abilities that I don’t have. I don’t want to disappoint you, or to feel that I am constantly falling short of your expectations. It reminded me of when you suggested that I could do the desalination spell wandlessly. Perhaps after a great deal of practice, I might be able to do it, at least with some degree of success, but it seems hardly the most useful way for me to spend my time. There are a few practical, everyday spells that I can perform wandlessly, and they have been sufficient for me. I can Summon my wand; I can open and close my windows wandlessly, if I need to, and there are a good many more spells that I can do nonverbally with ease; I can Levitate an object either nonverbally or wandlessly, though not usually both nonverbally and wandlessly. Sending my cup and saucer over to the table as I just did took concentration and I had to have a free hand. Please don’t . . . don’t have expectations of me that are impossible,” Minerva ended softly.

“Oh, my dear, I am so sorry if you felt I was putting any pressure on you!” Albus sent his cup and saucer over to the table to join Minerva’s. He put his other arm around her, then kissed her softly on the cheek. “I honestly do think that you have untapped potential, Minerva. But it is silly, as you say, to expend a lot of time and effort on something like a wandless desalination spell if it’s not anything you care about. You are highly skilled and very talented, and I hope that you do not think that I do not recognise that. You needn’t take those skills and talents in any particular direction simply because I think you could if you wanted to. But . . . if there are new things you think you would like to try, don’t feel inhibited around me, either. Don’t feel as though you can’t try something new in front of me or that you have to succeed the first time.”

Minerva smiled slightly. “All right, Albus. But if I ever were to try what you just did, I wouldn’t do it with a full cup of tea.”

Albus chuckled. “No, probably best not to do that. But you know, I never told you, well done for finding the door to the sixth floor this evening! You didn’t think you could do that, and you managed it with no difficulty at all.”

“I wouldn’t say it was without difficulty, Albus, but I was pleased to be able to recognise the exit when I came upon it,” Minerva answered, smiling herself.

Albus nodded then lay his head on hers. “Your familiarity with the castle’s magic probably helped there. You spent a good deal of time with Gertrude and me when I was manipulating the wards that summer, and that likely helped, even though it was some time ago.”

“Mmm,” Minerva murmured, snuggling closer to him, eyes closed.

A few minutes later, Albus whispered, “Minerva, Minerva – I do believe you are falling asleep, my dear. It is time for me to take my leave and allow you to get your rest.”

“No, that’s all right; just stay a little bit longer,” Minerva said sleepily.

Albus kissed the top of her head in reply, his fingers playing with a strand of hair that had come loose. Finally, ten minutes later, he kissed her head again and eased her back.

Smiling down at her as she blinked up at him, Albus said, “You sleep well, and I will see you in the morning.” He kissed her forehead.

Minerva nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long sigh. “Come take breakfast with me, Albus?”

He nodded. “Perhaps breakfast and a walk. I will need to be gone for an hour or two in the morning, though, as I have a meeting at the Ministry, so if we could eat earlier than we have done – seven-thirty?”

Minerva agreed with a nod. “I wish you had said something, though – it’s quite late. You will not get enough sleep.”

“I will be fine, my dear,” Albus said, standing.

“Don’t forget your Vitamin Potion tonight, Albus! Perhaps you ought to take the vanilla one – do you need any more of that one?”

Albus smiled at her fondly. “No, my dear, I still have three-quarters of a bottle of the vanilla, and the others you gave me are still very nearly full – although I have been taking them almost every night.”

Minerva shook her head as they walked toward the door. “You should take them every night, Albus. I will remind you, if you like.”

Albus’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Yes, Mother McGonagall, I shall endeavour to take them nightly. And occasional reminders would not be unwelcome.”

Minerva laughed. “Very well, I’ll remind you occasionally, then.”

“Now, to ensure that doppelganger-Albus does not make a sudden and unwanted reappearance overnight, as unlikely as that is, I do believe that an ounce of prevention might be warranted, my dear,” Albus said, a smile on his lips.

Minerva gladly administered a bit more than an ounce of prevention, kissing his lips repeatedly as he held her in his arms. Finally, Albus kissed her forehead, wished her sweet dreams, and left for the Headmaster’s Tower.

---

Note: Sorry if this was a few days later than expected, but I had the flu. I hope you enjoyed this rather long chapter! The next one will likely be posted next weekend, although if I can, I’ll post a bit sooner.

[Hogwarts Duo]

Uh oh...sorry to hear you've been under the weather! Hope you're feeling much better now and taking good care of yourself!!

I love everything about this chapter..especially the lemony/tangy bits but you’ll have to look in the lemon section for those comments.

Albus telling Minerva about courting Dervilia was incredibly sweet and nostalgic. I’m glad she finally asked about that period of his life and especially his relationship with his first wife. The amount of care and concern he took with her was touching and the way she made the first move towards deepening their relationship physically ( I’ve got more to say on this matter but I will save it for the lemon section…tee hee.) just goes to show how much of a gentleman Albus was even back then. And then for him to ask her to marry him after their first time together…awwwww!

“But if all of that hadn’t happened, then perhaps we never would have met, Albus. And we would not have the mated wands,” Minerva said.

“Perhaps not . . . or perhaps some things truly are fated to be, certain . . . patterns and shapes to events, anyway…

I’m happy that Minerva took a moment to point out that just because bad things happened in each of their lives doesn’t mean that they weren’t fated to be together. I think she’s trying, in her own way, to express the sentiment that everything happens for a reason and how all of those things, awful as they might have been in the moment, actually worked together to bring them to where they are now…building a future together. I think that idea, as well as expressing her love for him vocally and demonstratively, will go a long way towards making Albus more comfortable and accepting of her love and his love for her.

“Yes, I really do. As I told you before, most wizards couldn’t carry it off as you do. In fact,” Minerva said, “I saw a wizard the last time I was in London who had longish hair, greying, and a long beard, though not quite as long as yours, and he had these . . . these things braided into it. And he had a pot belly. I think he believed he was the epitome of style, but he looked quite bizarre and absurd, which you never do, even when you’re trying to appear somewhat eccentric. It would quite give me the shudders to have someone like that near me, but I have a feeling he would look bizarre and absurd no matter what he did, poor soul.

OMG…so as I was reading this section, I couldn’t help but picture the fake Dumbledore (aka Michael Gambon, sorry for you guys who like him as Albus. Richard Harris is my one true Albus Dumbledore!)! The things braided in his hair, the pot belly…gave both Minerva and me the shudders. Tee hee. I love it. That is some very creative writing there and where you meant to draw the comparison between Richard Harris’s Albus and Michael Gambon’s Albus…that’s what my mind did and I loved every second of it. I’m glad that when I read stories, I always picture Richard Harris, young or old or middle-aged…YUMMMMM!

The more you write of Malcolm, the more I adore his character. He’s such a fun wizard and his off the wall approach to things intrigues me. His idea of going into the Forbidden Forest to look at The Nocturnal Dancing Umbratrope was so romantic and yet a bit daring. I’m surprised Gertie didn’t take him up on the offer! I mean, how could she refuse such an invitation??? Haha. I do hope Albus will be adventuresome and take Minerva out there one night to “observe” the romance and the plant…yeah, right…the plant…smirk!!

“Yes, just for a little while, though. I’ll be back in a couple hours – ” Malcolm broke off, looking over at his sister and blinking for a moment….

…“Yes, well, surprises all around, aren’t there?” Malcolm said, seeming to address Minerva, his head cocked to one side…

…“He just . . . there was something he was keeping himself from saying, and given that Malcolm is rarely concerned with being courteous or holding his tongue – ” Minerva shrugged. “I don’t know. It was the way he looked at me, I suppose.”

Uh oh…the gig is up, Minerva. I do believe Malcolm has stumbled upon something he didn’t expect from his sister. There’s something about the way he looked at her, blinked, then later cocked his head to one side and make the comment about surprises all around…yep, I’m thinking he’s guessed about Albus and Minerva…maybe there’s some telling mark on Minerva’s neck, though I don’t think Albus was that “involved” in leaving love marks…YET!! I’ll be interested to see what he has to say to her when they “catch up” the following day.

Albus’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Yes, Mother McGonagall, I shall endeavour to take them nightly. And occasional reminders would not be unwelcome.”

Recently, I’ve been rereading the story from the beginning and I’ve noticed something this time that I hadn’t paid much attention to until now. Several times, spanning the length of the story, Albus refers to Minerva as “Mother McGonagall.” I think that’s a very loving term of endearment, even going back nearly seventeen (approximately half her life, right?) or so years to when she was his student and doing her best to take care of him as she knew how at her tender age. I think it also shows how, even though they’ve grown together and separately, some things never change. It’s amusing to see how Albus thinks of himself at times as a grandfatherly figure to her and Minerva thinks of herself as a daughter/granddaughter figure for Albus and yet she’s been the one taking care of him, nurturing him, and seeing that he’s looking out for his health and well-being. Even now that they’re together, I find it incredibly sweet that he’s still calling her Mother McGonagall and she accepts the term of endearment readily. They truly are a match made in heaven…awwww.

Anyway, enough of my rambling…I hope you’ll update again soon. The lemony bits are FANTASTIC and I can see them getting closer and closer to the ultimate expression of their love…WOO HOOO!!!

**OOPS...in my excitement over the chapter and the accompanying lemony bit, I completely neglected something absolutely wonderful and exciting...THE TITLE!!! I absolutely adore the title for lots of reasons and the quote from which it originates has always been one of my absolute favorites. Awesome job!

[MMADfan]

Note: Because of mature content & language, this version of the chapter has been extensively edited. The full, unexpurgated version of the chapter is available in the Lemons forum.

Posted in two parts because of length.

CXLVI: An Interesting Idea

Minerva closed her door, realising that Albus hadn’t asked to use her Floo. Well, it was a short walk to his stairway, and that led directly to his bedroom. She sighed. She wished that Albus had stayed, perhaps just fallen asleep with her there on the sofa. But that did not lend itself to a very restful sleep, and he did have a meeting at the Ministry in the morning. And he clearly wasn’t ready to share her bed – Minerva wasn’t either, truthfully. While Minerva would be quite happy to simply share her bed with Albus, at that moment, she knew that her desire for him would have left her quite frustrated. It wasn’t as though she thought that after only a few days of courtship, a couple should expect to embark upon an intimate relationship – she had been with Rudolf for a few months before they had taken that step – but she and Albus were not a typical couple in a typical relationship. They had known each other for twenty years, even though for the first several of those years she had been his student. They had been in love with each other for a long time. It wouldn’t exactly be sudden and impetuous of them, after all.

Minerva went into her bedroom to begin getting ready for bed. She stood in front of her vanity and took her few Charmed hairpins from her hair and placed them in their little porcelain dish. As she did that, her eye fell upon the dark green ribbon lacing up the front of her bodice. While her first thought was of unlacing the ribbon for Albus, her second was that the lacing looked odd. The lower portion of the lacing was laced through the eyelets from the inside out, but the upper portion, on which she had used a lacing spell that evening, was laced from the outside in. The peculiar expression on Malcolm’s face flashed through Minerva’s mind.

Minerva sighed and sat on the bench in front of the dressing table. She doubted that most men would have noticed the lacing, but knowing her brother, he probably had. And he had seen her at dinner. That was most likely what had drawn his attention to the lacing, not simply that the top and the bottom were laced from opposite sides of the garment, but that it looked different from what he had seen a few hours before.

Oh, well – she had been going to speak to Malcolm about her relationship with Albus, anyway. But she didn’t like the thoughts that had likely come into his head when he saw the laces. And no doubt he was curious about when the relationship began, and he probably believed that the relationship was further along than it was. Especially after she had said what she had about looking forward to her bed. He had probably thought that Albus would be joining her. A pity Malcolm would have been wrong about that.

First opening the windows, then waving her wand and setting her alarm clock for half past six, Minerva got into bed. Despite having been very sleepy twenty minutes before, now she lay there thinking of Albus, getting ready for bed in his tower bedroom. She imagined him undressing, removing first his shoes and socks, then his over-robe, then his under-robe. Her imagination stopped there. She wondered whether he wore any underwear. Something he had said once about Muggle pants made her think that he didn’t . . . . Minerva’s mind wandered away from the vision of Albus undressing as he readied himself for bed to one of her reaching for him, touching him through his robe. His blue robes, the sky blue ones that fit him so marvellously, with the over-robe unfastened, as he usually wore it . . . she would reach out and touch him through his robe. Albus would be breathing rapidly, and she would unfasten the front of the robe just sufficiently to reach inside and touch him. She would then step back from Albus and undress in front of him, knowing that seeing her undressed would arouse him. Minerva closed her eyes and imagined all she would do, and how Albus would react. . . .

She got out of bed and went into the loo. As she washed her hands then splashed her face with cool water, Minerva wondered how on earth she would survive having Albus tease her with his touch as he did. She surely would explode with desire before he would do more than touch her. He had stopped himself again that night. If he were trying to drive her mad, he was certainly succeeding, she thought with a sigh as she returned to bed. Patience was one thing, but . . . perhaps she should just take Gertie’s advice from earlier in the summer: just tell him what he needs and be persistent. If that failed, she would tell him what she needed. Or not . . . Minerva sighed again as she climbed back into bed. She certainly didn’t want him to classify her at all with the witches who used him for entertainment when he was a youth. That would be no better than for him to believe that she found his touch repulsive.

Restless, Minerva plumped her pillow vigorously, flipped it, rolled over to face the open window, and played the old trick she used when she was overtired and found it difficult to fall asleep: she stared at the window and tried to keep her eyes open, forcing herself to stay alert. Within minutes, she was sound asleep.

-/-/-/-

Albus lay in bed and reflected on the day. He had accomplished a great deal that afternoon, but his favourite parts of the day were the time he had spent with Minerva. He smiled. She had been so sleepy when he had finally left her. He hoped she would sleep well. He had the sense that she would have liked him to have stayed, but he didn’t think that was wise for either of them. It now seemed highly unlikely that Minerva would be repulsed by the touch of his lips on her body, or any other touch, at least not during this phase of their relationship. But he was not ready yet to extend their intimacies, and he did not want to have to resist his desire to touch her, to love her, and to bring her pleasure, let alone to seek his own pleasure. Albus rolled over. No matter how much more sure of himself he was now, confident that Minerva would not shy from his touch, he still was very uneasy about her own touch of him.

He wasn’t entirely sure what his reluctance was. In part, it was his desire to go slowly, to court her properly, to not heighten his desire to a point at which it might be more difficult for him to treat her as he should, as she deserved. But it was also simple shyness, a slight embarrassment at his own level of arousal, and, although he hated to admit it, even a bit of fear that she would not wish to touch him, that she would find his . . . maleness distasteful. It seemed an absurd fear when Albus thought of it in the abstract, but in the moment, when he was with Minerva and her hand approached him, he felt nervous. How would he know what she really felt when she touched him? Whether she was in some way disgusted, or, worse, found him ridiculous?

Albus rolled over again. That thought in itself was ridiculous, he recognised that. Even in the moment, he knew it was ridiculous. But he couldn’t completely dismiss it, even though he would have liked to. Once they had made love, once he had shown her all of his love and devotion, he was certain that those fears would fade away. Provided he could satisfy her. Perhaps her expectations were so high, that he never could fulfil them. On the other hand, she might have the same worries. He wished he could talk to her about it, but he couldn’t imagine how he would even begin such a conversation. Even approaching the topic of sexuality obliquely was difficult for him. Discussing with Minerva his early relationship with Dervilia had been awkward enough; Albus couldn’t imagine talking to her about their own intimate relationship and its future.

Sighing, Albus also recognised that maintaining their romantic relationship during the school year would be difficult enough, but an intimate, sexual relationship . . . that would present a challenge even if they weren’t Headmaster and Head of House. For a moment, he wished that Minerva weren’t Head of Gryffindor; it would certainly make it easier for their personal relationship if she didn’t have those added responsibilities, if she weren’t tied to Gryffindor House. But professionally, and as her friend, Albus was pleased that Minerva was Head of Gryffindor, and he couldn’t truly regret it, although he did admit regretting the burdens their responsibilities would place on their romantic relationship.

As Albus began to consider all of the difficulties that their combined responsibilities would place on them, he believed even more strongly that not only was Minerva’s suggestion to go away, just the two of them, for a few days, a good idea, but that perhaps he ought to consider moving forward with the intimate aspects of the relationship before the school year began, possibly during those days away, if it was what Minerva wanted – and although Minerva hadn’t directly said that she wanted him to make love to her, it certainly seemed as though she did. However it came about, he vowed to make Minerva feel comfortable and in control of the experience. He wanted her to enjoy it and he certainly didn’t want her to feel overpowered by his own passion, as considerable as it was. Albus’s thoughts turned again to the pleasure he had brought her the previous night. Neither of them had even begun to disrobe, and he was certain that he had brought Minerva to the heights of pleasure. She was very responsive, he thought, his pulse increasing with the memory. And that night, seeing her skin, creamy and flushed . . . she was so beautiful, and he now wished that he had continued kissing her, proceeding lower . . . . She was so very lovely.

Albus almost Summoned his wand to cast a Cooling Charm on himself, but then he decided to leave it. After thinking of Minerva as he had, the arousal was almost uncomfortable. He would simply think of other things, Albus decided, redirect his thoughts, and allow it to subside on its own. He rolled over onto his stomach and began to consider his upcoming meeting at the Ministry – which was scheduled in only a few short hours. He really needed to get some sleep. Regulating his breathing, he began an exercise that would help him to relax. Ten minutes later, he had drifted off to sleep.

-/-/-/-

Minerva and Albus began to walk back around the castle from where they had sat on a conjured glider beside the lake talking for more than a half hour. The sharp breeze off the lake had been very cool that morning, and Minerva had been glad for the plaid shawl that went with her robes, matching the skirt’s soft, muted tartan of green, brown, and blue. The heathery bodice had long sleeves of the same soft green, but the shawl’s warmth was welcome, even after Albus had cast a Warming Charm. Albus said that his robes seemed to adjust to the ambient temperature to some degree, and he was quite comfortable despite the wind whipping up the waters.

Albus was wearing the starry silk robes that Minerva had given him for his birthday. He had meetings at the Ministry, and he had chosen those robes in part because of the meetings, but also because he wanted to show Minerva how much he appreciated her gift. The last time he had worn them, he had had no choice, since it had been Wilspy’s idea.

Minerva was not completely happy with the course of their most recent conversation that morning. She had asked Albus again about going away for a few days, and he had pleased her by saying that he had drafted a letter to the staff the previous day, and after putting finishing touches on it, he would send it out that afternoon. They would be free until Wednesday now, and could take a short holiday together. She had been so pleased that she had leaned over and kissed him, despite the fact that they were out in the open on the school grounds. He had smiled and patted her hand. But then she had mentioned a possible destination, and their disagreement began.

“I thought perhaps we might go to your cottage, Albus,” Minerva suggested. “We could be alone and undisturbed, and just Albus and Minerva together.”

Albus shook his head. “I don’t know, Minerva . . . What about Brighton? A little sea air? Some sun? The Muggle arcades can be quite amusing. It would be warmer in Brighton, too,” he said as a particularly sharp gust of wind rocked their glider.

“Brighton? There would be crowds of people there. And I have nothing against Muggles, but I would like us to be able to relax, be ourselves. I can’t do that if I have to constantly remember not to do any magic and try to figure out Muggle gadgets,” Minerva replied. “I think your cottage would be perfect.”

“No . . . no, I don’t think so. What about Paris, then? It’s a beautiful, romantic city. I know a sweet little wizarding pension where we could stay. There are wonderful Muggle museums there, and the museum of magical history there is quite fascinating. It has exhibits from around the world. And we could visit Perenelle and Nicolas. I don’t believe you have met them.”

Minerva sighed. “That would be nice, some other time. I would like that and it sounds lovely. Perhaps next summer. But for these few days . . . I just would like to be alone with you. Your cottage sounds ideal.”

“It’s not. Not at all,” Albus replied.

Minerva furrowed her brow. “Is it because of Valerianna? Memories of her there?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Albus said, shaking his head.

“Because it wouldn’t be at all the same with us – ”

“No, it isn’t that. It is not even the same cottage,” Albus explained. “I gave my cottage to Aberforth for his birthday that year. He insisted I take his. So it’s not that.”

“Are you sure?” Minerva asked, looking at him sceptically.

Albus laughed. “Of course I’m sure – my old cottage in the Dales is perfect for Aberforth and his sheep and goats. And the other cottage suits me. But it isn’t suitable for our holiday.”

“Why ever not?” Minerva asked, baffled.

Albus had tried to explain, but not to Minerva’s satisfaction. And now he had to leave for London. They hadn’t argued, precisely, but Minerva was not happy with the way they had left the topic, both agreeing to think about it. She didn’t think that either one of them was likely to change their minds. But she would think about it . . . .

As the two rounded the castle to head down the drive to the gates, they saw Malcolm and Gertrude leaving through the front doors. Albus waved, and the two smiled as they walked toward him and Minerva.

After morning pleasantries, Malcolm said, addressing his sister, “I have business to take care of today, but I will be back before lunch. You will be in all day?”

Minerva nodded as the four of them began to walk down to the gates. “I have no plans to go anywhere, and the Headmaster is passing the wards to me.”

Malcolm quirked a smile that didn’t extend to his eyes. “Yes, it is good that the ‘Headmaster’ can rely on you. I’ll find you when I’m back, then.” He turned to Gertrude. “I will see you at lunch, Tru?”

Gertrude smiled warmly. “You know you will – and I thought that after, we can practise again, as you suggested yesterday.”

“Practise?” Minerva asked.

“Mm, for the duel and the rest of the practical interview,” Gertrude said.
“It’s set for Saturday – though we haven’t determined a time,” Albus said. He looked at Malcolm. “What do you say to two o’clock, my boy?”

“Two o’clock . . . I am not at my peak then. I think nine would be better – if it is all right with you,” Malcolm said, looking at Albus. “And please, do not call me that. I don’t like it. Or ‘son’ – rather an odd thing for you to be calling Minerva’s oldest brother, anyway, don’t you think, sir?”

Minerva caught some hostility in Malcolm’s tone, and she didn’t like the way that he addressed Albus, nor that he mentioned his dislike for the term right there in front of others. He could have spoken to him privately. Apparently Gertrude wasn’t pleased, either, though Minerva wouldn’t have recognised it earlier in the summer. Gertrude tightened her grip on Malcolm’s elbow, apparently painfully so, given his reaction, and her eyebrow was raised as she looked up at Malcolm and shook her head slightly.

“Um, that is, Professor, I would prefer it if you just called me ‘Malcolm,’ as everyone does. If you would,” Malcolm said more deferentially. “I would be more comfortable with that.”

“Of course, Malcolm,” Albus said mildly. “It is a habit I have . . . with people with whom I am comfortable. It was meant fondly, but I understand that it might not be appropriate.”

Gertrude changed the topic back to the time and place of the practical interview, and the three agreed that they would meet with Filius Flitwick the next morning to discuss the details. Malcolm perked up at that, and, somewhat oddly, to Minerva’s way of thinking, both he and Albus seemed to share an enthusiasm for the prospect. They were like two little boys together, she thought, and Malcolm showed no further sign of antagonism toward his future boss. But that was typical of her peculiar brother.

Minerva wanted to ask to attend the meeting, as well, but then she thought that she would have nothing positive to contribute to the planning – nothing but her worries. She would just ask Albus about it afterward. And Malcolm. She did hope that Albus was careful with him. In a show of bravado, Malcolm might seem to be stronger and more skilled than he was – or more than he could sustain, at any rate – and invite a powerful response from Albus. On the other hand, if Albus underestimated Malcolm, he might let his guard down and get hurt himself. It was just as well she not attend the planning meeting, Minerva was sure. Although perhaps she should volunteer to help Malcolm practise, if they could find a suitable time.

They reached the gates, and Malcolm bent his head and kissed Gertrude lightly on the forehead, then again on the cheek. “I will see you later, Tru-love,” he whispered. He nodded to Albus, smiled at his sister, then stepped through the gates and Disapparated with a short, sharp crack.

“Are we still meeting at four, Albus?” Gertrude asked.

Albus nodded. “I plan to be in my office all afternoon, but four would be most convenient. I should be done with almost everything else then.” He turned to Minerva. “I will see you at lunch, my dear, and we can finalise our plans for the evening.” He raised a hand and brushed her upper arm.

He stepped toward the open gate, and Minerva took a step after him. He turned and smiled at her. “You must remain on the grounds, Minerva, if I am to pass the wards to you,” he said gently.

Minerva nodded and stepped back, but she swallowed hard from the sudden sense of disappointment that washed over her. “Have a good morning, then, Albus,” she said, trying not to sound as unhappy as she felt. It had started out a lovely day, and although nothing had precisely gone wrong, Minerva now felt unsettled.

“Same to you, my dear,” Albus replied as he stepped off the grounds, passing the wards to her with a wave of his hand. “See you later, Gertrude ”

Albus drew his wand, and just before he Disapparated, he winked at Minerva, cast a quick glance at Gertrude, and then blew Minerva a kiss, which she felt land warmly on her cheek. Suddenly, everything seemed much sunnier, and Minerva smiled brightly and waved to Albus before he left for London, making the smallest of pops as he did.

-/-/-/-

At six o’clock, Minerva put the finishing touches on the table. She had instructed Blampa to wait to bring the meal until she was called, since Albus had not been sure when he would arrive, as he wished to be entirely free that evening and finish everything he needed to before dinner, but Albus had said it would certainly be before seven o’clock. It was just as well, though, to have everything ready, in case he could get there earlier. Minerva was relieved that Albus had agreed to dine with her that evening. After their day with its ups and downs, she just wanted some peace alone with him. Albus had said that he would bring his chess set and they could spend the evening playing chess. She sighed. She enjoyed chess, and she particularly enjoyed playing chess with Albus, but she could think of another activity that she would greatly prefer to chess.

Minerva touched her ear, feeling the smooth, warm amber, and smiled. The earrings had been such a thoughtful gift, and they did look very well with her amber necklace. Her smile grew as she remembered how excited he had been to give them to her after lunch, and how pleased he was that she liked them. It wasn’t merely the gift that she had appreciated, Minerva thought, but that he had noticed her amber necklace and had remembered it when he had seen the earrings. When she had tried them on and asked why he had given them to her, for what occasion, and Albus had replied that it was a Tuesday on which he loved her and she loved him and that was occasion enough, Minerva had felt almost moved to tears. She believed that there was nothing she would not do for that wizard.

His kisses after he had given her the earrings had been warm and arousing. It was all Minerva could do not to try to entice Albus away from his work for the afternoon, but she knew that he had a lot to do and she also remembered her promise not to press him. Flooing directly to her own office, using her new password, which Albus had set to “pulcherrima,” saying it was only fitting for the most beautiful witch in the world, Minerva had left him in his office and to his work.

Now though . . . Albus had set aside the evening for them, he had no work calling him, and her promise may have been somewhat open-ended, but it wasn’t absolute, Minerva reasoned to herself. If he seemed reluctant or anxious, she wouldn’t press him too much, but if he seemed amenable . . . she didn’t want to appear to be wanton, but she didn’t want to feign a disinterest or coolness that she didn’t feel, either. And she certainly did not want him to doubt his attractiveness to her. Yes, perhaps tonight, after dinner, when they were both relaxed, she could move the cuddling and the kissing in a more passionate direction.

She did hope that Albus felt some sexual passion – Minerva remembered her speculations earlier in the summer about his love life and any urges he might have, and she began to worry that even though Albus was still capable of sexual activity, and even though he clearly did become physically aroused with her, perhaps his passions had died away to a bare simmer. He had, after all, led what he had described as a “retired life.” Minerva assumed that he had spent a long period of his adult life, perhaps most of it, in abstinence. It could be that either the abstinence came easily to him because he was not particularly sexual – she did know some people like that, after all – or possibly the abstinence itself had extinguished any passion he had once had. It could be that there was some . . . not truth, but some cause for Valerianna’s nasty words – if Albus had found it easy to be a gentleman with Valerianna and not press his advantage with her, and she was used to rutting with every wizard who caught her fancy, it could be that she sensed his lack of desire. Although if that witch had sensed a lack of desire, it had been a lack of desire for her, not necessarily a lack of desire in general. Nonetheless, Albus had been very restrained. Minerva did hope that it was merely out of a desire to be a gentleman, and perhaps because of a little lingering insecurity or nervousness, and not from a lack of sexual desire for her. She did want him to want her and to . . . well, to find making love with her more than just a pleasant pastime on the same order as a game of chess.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXLVI: An Interesting Idea, continued

The Silent Knight entered the landscape over the fireplace and announced that the Master of the Castle had arrived. Minerva waved her wand and opened the door to Albus as she hurried across the room to meet him. As the door closed behind him, Albus took Minerva into his arms with a smile and sent his chess set floating across the room to the coffee table.

“Ah, Minerva, you look so lovely this evening!” he said, kissing her cheek in greeting.

“I am wearing the same thing I was wearing earlier today,” Minerva said with a slight laugh, returning his kiss, but placing hers lightly on his lips.

“But you looked very lovely then, and your beauty is certainly undiminished by the passage of a few hours,” Albus murmured before returning her kiss.

“Mmm,” Minerva sighed, “you, though, look absolutely wonderful this evening, Albus. And you didn’t change for dinner, either, for which I am most grateful.” She kissed him again, pulling his lower lip between hers and tasting it with the tip of her tongue before sucking it gently.

Albus was still wearing the starry robes he had been wearing that morning when he had left for the Ministry, and Minerva loved the feel of them as she ran her hands over his back, their silky fabric fitting closely to his body. Her right hand skimmed his buttocks as her left hand crept up his back, winding its way into his long, soft hair. When Albus gave a slight moan, her roving hand became a bit bolder, and she squeezed his buttocks lightly as she pulled him closer to her. She broke from the kiss with a gasp as she felt his reaction against her stomach, and she turned her head as Albus bent and kissed the side of her jaw and the soft skin at her pulse point.

Minerva massaged him lightly and pushed herself against him. Albus backed up, bringing Minerva with him. Minerva felt the door hit the knuckles of her right hand, trapping it nicely as she cupped the firm curve of his buttocks, and she brought her left hand around to rub Albus’s side. She rolled her hips and pressed against him. Albus’s breath was warm and ragged in her ear as he caressed her back with one hand and stroked the side of her breast with the other. He reached between them somewhat awkwardly, seeking her with his hand, and he began to step forward, one halting step and then another as he steered her toward the sofa.

Finally landing together on the sofa with a thump, Albus’s kisses trailed down her neck; his hands were fumbling with the fabric of her bodice, trying to move it aside. Minerva reached between them and ran a hand over Albus’s chest, down his stomach, and lower, but Albus pushed himself up and away from her, panting slightly.

Before Minerva could protest, Albus said, “I love your robes, my dear, but they are rather . . . close-fitting.”

“Hooks,” Minerva said with a gasp. “In the back. Charmed.”

Albus murmured, “How very . . . convenient,” as he brought a hand to the back of her neck, seeking the first of the hooks-and-eyes, and placing his lips in a kiss on her forehead. Minerva worried for a moment that he wouldn’t manage the charmed hooks, as it was a witch’s charm, but then she felt them all release at his touch, and she sighed before Albus’s lips met hers again.

Albus used both hands to push the gown from Minerva’s shoulders, and the two paused a moment in their kiss so that she could pull her arms free. She then reached up for him and pulled him down to her for another kiss. One of Albus’s hands found Minerva’s soft skin and began caressing her through her chemise of thin batiste. Minerva sat up, not breaking their kiss, and she began to seek him again as she pushed him back against the cushions on the other side of the sofa.

She kissed Albus once more before pulling away and looking down at him as she teased him with one finger. His lips were parted and his cheeks were flushed. He swallowed and licked his lips. His breathing seemed ragged and shallow.

“Mmm, Minerva . . .” He didn’t seem capable of finding any other words. “Minerva . . .”

Minerva could feel him through his robe, and she caressed him gently. She had moved aside the loose outer robe, and she could tell that there was only one layer of fabric between her and his skin. Albus placed two fingers against Minerva’s wrist, but he didn’t stop her from touching him. He raised his other hand to touch Minerva through her chemise.

Albus licked his lips again, smiled slightly, then said softly, “You’re making it difficult for me today, my dear. First the strange hooks, and now this . . . shift. No buttons tonight. What is a wizard to do?”

Minerva grinned, eyes shining, and pressed her palm against him before answering his question with a very clear response. She reached down, crossing her arms, and found the bottom of her chemise, then she pulled the garment up and over her head. She let it drop to the floor beside the couch.

“Do you now have a notion of what a wizard might do?” Minerva purred softly, reaching down and caressing him through his robes again, grateful for his reaction to her touch.

Albus sat up further to embrace her, pulling Minerva onto his lap, kissing her mouth, and caressing her with one hand. He moved to kiss the side of her neck, and then her shoulders. Minerva moaned and grasped at him. Albus put both arms around her and pulled her closer to him, resting his cheek on her shoulder and catching his breath. Minerva found that her movements were now restricted by Albus’s embrace, and she pulled her hand out from between them and brought it to the back of his head, stroking his hair and combing her fingers through it.

She rested her head against the side of Albus’s and sighed. “I’m sorry, Albus . . . I just . . . I just . . . I want you.” Minerva paused, unsure of what to think of Albus’s reaction, which had been to simply move his lips gently over her shoulder. The tender kisses increased the warmth and throbbing in her, and she moaned and shifted on his lap. “I know I said I would not press . . .”

Albus moved from kissing her shoulder, sitting back to look at Minerva’s face. He raised a finger and gently stroked it down Minerva’s temple to her jaw, then he outlined her lips before leaning forward and gently kissing them. The way that Minerva was sitting, he could reach her right ankle with his left hand. He pushed her soft shoe from her foot and drew his hand over her ankle and up her calf as he watched her face. She closed her eyes as his hand travelled up her leg, which was bent at the knee. Albus pushed Minerva’s skirt aside as he caressed her, feeling her silky stocking and finding where it began high on her thigh. He rolled the stocking part way down her leg, then he shifted them both slightly so that his fingertips could caress her inner thigh.

Albus watched her reaction, and at Minerva’s lack of objection, he leaned forward and kissed her lips softly and repeatedly as he caressed her. Finally, fingertips met fabric, and he paused, not withdrawing his touch, but opening his eyes and leaning back a little to look at Minerva’s face. Her eyes were partially closed and her lips parted, then she opened her eyes and looked into his. Albus swallowed nervously, but watched her face as he drew a finger across her softness. Minerva let out a shuddering breath and gripped his shoulder hard. Her breathing was coming in gasps now. Albus leaned forward and kissed Minerva lightly on the throat. She trembled as he extended his caresses. Minerva rose up slightly onto her knees as Albus’s fingers went lower, and then stopped.

“Oh, Minerva . . .” Albus closed his own eyes and leaned his forehead against hers.

Minerva held onto both of his shoulders now, and she increased her grip on him. “Please, Albus . . . please . . .” she whispered.

Albus stroked his fingers briefly against her, then withdrew his hand and pulled her to him, holding her tightly. She was, indeed, aroused by him, by his touch, he thought. She was not humouring him. And she had wanted to touch him, he was certain of that now, as well, and she hadn’t only wanted to touch him through his robes, either.

Minerva, resting her head now on his shoulder, felt tears well up into her eyes. It was too much, too fast for him. She had said she wouldn’t press him. But how she wanted him, and how she wished he hadn’t stopped touching her

“I’m sorry, Albus,” Minerva said very softly, trying not to let her tears affect her voice. “I am sorry. I know . . . you want to wait. I said I wouldn’t press – ”

“Shh,” Albus responded, “shh, my dear, my love . . . it’s all right.”

Albus kissed the side of her head. He wanted Minerva to feel comfortable and in control. At the moment, Albus thought, he could easily simply push her to the floor and take her, and he almost desperately desired her, and it had been so very long . . . so long since he had been with anyone, and so long that he had desired Minerva. But he wouldn’t do that to her, certainly not this first time. He could not let her believe that she was only an object of pleasure for him, or that a physical union with her was at all like the encounters of his youth – although he had usually taken his time with them, as well, for a fair exchange. Still, Albus wished Minerva to feel as though she was taking her pleasure – and giving him pleasure, as well, of course. He didn’t want her to think that she was not desirable. He had never desired a woman the way that he desired Minerva, and he had desired her for a very long time. An idea formed in his mind, and Albus smiled to himself.

He turned his head and kissed her ear. “I love you, my dear Minerva,” he whispered. “You know that I love you, don’t you?”

He felt her nod against him.

“I love you, and I often think that if I had not overheard you that day in Poppy’s office, if I had not discovered then that you felt neglected by me, it may have taken much longer for me to learn that you love me and for me to be able to tell you that I am in love with you.” He paused to kiss her ear again, and then he whispered, “Do you remember that day, Minerva? Do you remember how angry you were with me? I was shocked to hear how upset you were, and even more shocked to hear certain words come from your mouth. Do you remember what you said, Minerva?”

Minerva held her breath as he spoke, wondering at first why he would want to bring up that painful topic, even though he was right that it had been fortuitous, in the end, that he had overheard her ranting at Poppy. She certainly did remember that day, and how upset she had been, and how she had grown more upset after Albus had left. When he asked her about what she had said, though, and whether she remembered it, Minerva stiffened briefly as she felt a pang of remorse, but then she nodded, and she said softly, “Yes, yes, I remember, Albus.”

“You may remember, my dear, that I said that you had an interesting idea – do you remember that?” His lips tickled her ear as he whispered the words into her ear. “It is still an . . . interesting idea, I think . . . if you believe that . . . I might possibly have earned such treatment. Do you remember what I said was an interesting idea?” Albus swallowed nervously. Perhaps this approach was too crude for her. It had struck him as amusing a moment ago, but now . . . he was no longer sure.

“Yes, I remember, Albus,” Minerva whispered hesitantly. Surely he didn’t mean what she believed he did. “I think I remember . . .”

“Would you like me to refresh your memory?” Albus whispered.

Minerva shook her head. Her words, and their double meaning, were clear in her memory.

Albus hesitated now, and he held his breath. This was not a suave seduction. What had he been thinking? He wanted her to know that he valued her, and yet he had used crudities to introduce the notion that she might make love to him. But then Minerva turned her face and moved to kiss him. She drew his tongue into her mouth and stroked it with her own, then she kissed his lips repeatedly.

Finally, letting out a breath, Minerva said in a low voice, “Do you think . . . do you still think that it is an interesting idea? Do you think I should, then?”

His eyes were deep blue as he looked into hers, and he said, “If you wish, and if you believe I . . . if I have earned it.”

Minerva smiled, a small smile at first, but it grew, and then she chuckled. “Oh, I most certainly do believe you have earned it, Albus Dumbledore.”

She kissed him again, wildly, passionately, and her hands sought the buttons of his under-robe, not caring whether she managed to reach all of them, and she undid one after the other. . . . Minerva made love to Albus, urgently, passionately, with scarcely a pause to breathe or to do more than murmur his name as he gripped her, and both reached their satisfaction within minutes.

Their breathing gradually returned to normal. Minerva hadn’t moved except to lean more fully against Albus and rest her head on his shoulder. Albus had brought his arms up to embrace her.

He kissed her hair and whispered, “I love you, my darling Minerva.”

“Mmm, me too,” Minerva said, snuggling against him and nuzzling his hair. “Very much.”

Albus took a deep breath as he gently disengaged from Minerva’s embrace, leaning back to look into her face. He disliked bringing up anything serious or practical at the moment, but he felt it was necessary.

“Um, Minerva . . . I . . . um, I am still fertile,” Albus said softly with a blush. “I had thought to . . . well, it seemed it might be practical to fix that state, some decades ago, but then I didn’t . . . as I had determined not to place myself in such a position . . . and then later . . .” This was not going well. She was looking at him, puzzled and without a clue what he was driving at. “I mean to say, to come to the point . . . I will cast a contraceptive spell. Unless you have taken some previous measures . . . ?”

Minerva shook her head. It had been several years since she had stopped taking Contraceptive Potion, and she had done nothing else recently, given how slowly Albus had been progressing. There were a few other spells that she knew which she could use in lieu of the Potion, of course. Minerva shrugged, not caring what particular spell they might use or who cast it. Although the two spells that she had used most frequently in the past were ones that she would have needed to have cast before they had sex, she did know one quite well that she could use now, and another that she could even cast later, if she needed to wait for some reason.

“You wish to do it yourself, then?” Albus asked, this time, his turn for confusion.

“As you wish, Albus – I have done nothing myself, not realising that tonight . . . . You had been so . . . restrained. I didn’t think we would manage it this soon,” Minerva explained.

Albus cleared his throat. “The best spell, in my experience, is necessary to cast after one has . . . um, afterward. Now, in fact. May I?”

Minerva nodded, and Albus reached under her skirt, placing a warm hand on her lower abdomen. She felt a greater warmth, and then the tingle of Albus’s magic began to grow as he cast the spell, his eyes closed in concentration. The warmth grew to a heat, becoming uncomfortable, though not so great as to be painful, and then she felt his magic thrum and pass through her, then flow downward, seeming to melt into her. She felt another slight tingling and Albus withdrew his hand.

Minerva tilted her head questioningly, and in response, he said, “Now you are protected. Completely.”

“I do not understand how this spell works. I am unfamiliar with it,” Minerva said. She had confidence in him, but it had felt like a very powerful spell, and she was slightly concerned with his words and precisely what he meant by “completely.”

Albus blushed again. “You cannot become pregnant now.”

“I understood that – what do you mean by ‘cannot’?” Now her concern was growing, though she tried not to let it show.

“I will not need to cast it again until, I don’t know exactly, until, um,” Albus answered, his blush growing, “until after your next cycle has begun. After the first time we do this each month, I can cast this spell. It will prevent conception for the entire month.”

“Oh!” Minerva said with relief. “Well, that is a handy spell. Although slightly uncomfortable, I will admit.”

Albus knit his brow. “Uncomfortable? I wanted to be certain it would be effective . . . it shouldn’t be painful.”

“It wasn’t painful . . . just very hot. And somewhat uncomfortable,” Minerva admitted.

“I will be more careful next time – I do not want it to be uncomfortable for you. You might decide the activity was not worth the discomfort afterward. Unless you prefer another method?” Albus asked. “And I could cast a spell on myself ahead of time, but the one I know for that would need to be done each time within a few hours before, um, engaging in the activity.”

Minerva giggled and kissed his cheek. “You are adorable, Albus. ‘The activity’ ” She smiled at him fondly. “‘Making love’ is a rather nice way of putting it if you wish.”

Albus chuckled nervously. “Yes, of course. But if you do wish to use your own measures, that would be fine, but I would wish to cast the other spell on myself in that case. Just to be sure, you know.”

Minerva let out a breath. “I know you are nervous about this, but you needn’t be. Potions are very effective, and they are readily available. I could get one from Murdoch. I trust his brewing completely. But I think your spell is more convenient. We will simply have to remember it.”

“Perhaps you should take a potion as well,” Albus said thoughtfully. “Just to be certain.”

Minerva kissed him lightly. “We won’t forget the spell, I’m sure. And if we do . . . there’s a spell I haven’t had to use but that my mother taught me some time ago. It can be cast up to forty-eight hours after,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Er, there is one other thing about the spell I cast, Minerva,” Albus said, not looking directly at her.

“What?” Minerva’s nervousness returned. “Does it have a side-effect?” She suddenly worried that it would affect her libido – or even cause infertility over time, which some of the older spells sometimes did.

“No, not exactly, but the spell is very specific. Um, I don’t believe this would be a consideration for you, and I only mention it in order to . . . to provide full information, you understand. Not because I have any doubts about you, or about us . . .” Albus replied, looking as embarrassed as he had a few minutes before, or even more so.

“Yes? What is it, Albus?” Minerva asked, curious.

“It is only effective with me. That is to say, it stops me from . . . um, well, it is specific to me. It isn’t a general contraceptive. If you were to, um, engage in such . . . that is, another wizard . . .”

“I see,” Minerva said, nodding and caressing his cheek reassuringly. “It stops me from becoming pregnant from you, but not anyone else. You’re right,” she added briskly, “there is no need to worry about that aspect of the spell, although it is an interesting detail.” She leaned forward and kissed Albus again and hugged him tightly. “I love you, Albus. You are so very wonderful to me. And we will become more comfortable with all of this together. I promise.”

Albus chuckled. “I must seem quite foolish to you.”

“No, not at all. You are very sweet and thoughtful. And it can be awkward to discuss. But we’ll get better at talking about things. And we’ll have a lot of fun actually doing them, too, I am sure,” Minerva said, her eyes sparkling. “I am sorry I was a bit . . . peremptory there, and somewhat urgent. I should have taken more time.”

Albus grinned. “You were perfect. There will be occasions later for taking our time.” A slight blush creeping back to his face, he added, “I felt some urgency, myself, to be honest.” He looked down at Minerva and brushed his fingers over her skin. “You really are beautiful, Minerva,” he whispered. He brought his eyes back to meet hers. “Very beautiful.”

Albus leaned forward and kissed her lips, and Minerva felt the desire sweep over her to move on him again, but she only pressed herself against him. Minerva was disappointed, then, with Albus’s next suggestion.

“Shall we freshen up now, Minerva? Have our dinner?”

Minerva sighed and nodded. Albus put his arms around her and held her close.

“Let’s clean up, have dinner, and play a game or two of chess, hmm? You must be hungry,” Albus said.

“I am . . . I am simply reluctant to move right now,” Minerva admitted.

“Then let’s freshen up, rearrange our clothes, and have a little snuggle before we call for our dinner,” Albus suggested. At her small smile and nod, he pulled the bodice of Minerva’s gown back up. “Would you like your shift?”

Minerva said, “No. No need right now. But I do think I will want a fresh pair of knickers, as I banished the others.”

Albus chuckled. “That was a nice piece of wandless magic, Minerva.”

Minerva grinned. “I was highly motivated.”

“I shall have to find other opportunities to motivate you, then ” Albus said, his eyes bright.
“I have no objections to that,” Minerva said with a smile as she moved off of Albus and began to straighten her clothes, putting her arms into her sleeves.

Albus found his wand and waved it, cleaning the front of his robes, then he waved it again, and Minerva could feel a nice, mild cleansing charm pass over her.

“I think I will fetch my fresh knickers now,” Minerva said as she activated the charm to fasten up the back of her robe. “Could you call for our dinner, Albus? Don’t have her bring it immediately. We can have our snuggle while we wait for it.”

Albus agreed to that proposal, and Minerva padded off to her bedroom to finish freshening up, bringing her discarded chemise with her.

---

Note: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

[Hogwarts Duo]

What an absolutely fantastic chapter. I do believe the title of this chapter very adeptly reflects the content it’s meant to represent. I expected nothing less from you and you certainly didn’t disappoint.

It’s always wonderful to see glimpses in time from both Albus and Minerva’s points of view. As they’re each getting ready for bed and thinking of the other, it’s fun to see that their thoughts both turned to the other and their future intimate sexual relationship. And as always, the tangy bits are a welcome treat, both for them and for us. I’m glad Albus didn’t cast the charm on himself but let things progress and cool down on their own and then Minerva…wow!

She had been so pleased that she had leaned over and kissed him, despite the fact that they were out in the open on the school grounds. He had smiled and patted her hand.

This sentence struck me as incredibly sad for some reason. I think it’s because Minerva is so eager and excited to finally be able to express her love for Albus openly and yet he’s still reluctant to share in the joy openly. I understand his reasons for wanting to be discreet but since there are few people in the castle during the summer, it seems like he would be able to loosen up a bit and worry about public displays of affection during the school term. It’s not like she was about to snog him senseless as they sat in the glider.

The discussion about them going away for a few days certainly didn’t go well, though they didn’t precisely argue either. I’m sure Albus has very good reasons for being so reluctant to take Minerva to the cottage and no doubt we’ll learn those in due time. I feel sorry for Minerva, again, since she seems so ready and willing to share time and adventures yet there are still a few minor hurdles to cross. Hopefully, Albus will be able to explain in greater detail his motives and all will be well when they do decide to go away on holiday.

YIKES! I didn’t expect Malcolm to get his boxers in a twist over Albus and Minerva’s relationship. I’m glad Minerva and Gertie both gave him silent reprimands about his curt tone with Albus. I’m sure Gertie will take care of his attitude when he returns and no doubt so will Minerva when they have their little sibling chat. And he has no room to talk about what his sister might be doing when he’s known to be a cavalier man with the ladies…tsk tsk.

When she had tried them on and asked why he had given them to her, for what occasion, and Albus had replied that it was a Tuesday on which he loved her and she loved him and that was occasion enough,

How romantic and sweet!!! Albus is truly the last of a dying breed of men. Because it’s a Tuesday and we’re in love…awwww. My little heart is melting over here…dreamy sigh.

Pulcherrima…correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t that a Bird of Paradise flower/plant? They’re such beautiful flowers with their red and gold petals…sorta reminds me of Fawkes too. You never cease to amaze me with your creativity…and how it all plays into the story.

And of course the rest of the chapter was just mind-blowing and well worth the wait of all these chapters. To see them finally together, intimately, was worth every single chapter. I’m sure that their next time together, which I hope will be soon, will be more in keeping with what Albus wants…slow, thorough, passionate, and uninhibited by anything and anyone. That’s certainly a chapter I’m going to want to read over and over again.

Hope you update soon and btw, I left a more thorough review for you in the lemon section of the story.

Have a great weekend!!
The GLM

[MMADfan]

Pulcherrima…correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t that a Bird of Paradise flower/plant? They’re such beautiful flowers with their red and gold petals…sorta reminds me of Fawkes too. You never cease to amaze me with your creativity…and how it all plays into the story.

I believe that there are a number of flowers with "pulcherrima" as a part of their Latin name. It means "most beautiful," so it is quite fitting for the most beautiful of flowers or the most beautiful of witches. I do like the Bird of Paradise flower, myself, and it has a specific very nice association for me, so I'm glad you mentioned it!

I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter so much, including some of the NON-lemon bits which may have been somewhat overshadowed by the fact that everyone seems to be yelling, "FINALLY!" LOL!

Thanks, GLM! I do hope that the next big lemon is even hotter than this one, but I'll let you be the judge of that!

[esoterica1693]

I gave my main review over on the tangy version. But I forgot to mention how much I loved the full-circle aspect of "an interesting idea." B/c whenever I read that opening scene I have always imagined that Albus meant his comment quite literally...it was a knee-jerk rx shocked out of him and came directly from his subconscious, where it was not the first time the concepts of "Minerva" "fuck" and "Albus" had come <g> together!

[Leaves of Green]

WoW! Great Chapter! They're finally...Together-Together. I'm sure this has been asked a dozen times, but how long do you plan RaM to be? Honestly, I wish it was never-ending...Just curious...I think you do a better job than JKR.