Resolving a Misunderstanding (complete)

[minerva62]

Congratulations!!!!!!!!!!

RaM is now exactly one year old!!!!!

Thank you, MMADfan, for one year of fascinating entertainment!
This is really one of the best fan fictions ever.

We are truly blessed with an author like you. I would even say that you are better than JKR although she invented the characters, of course.

Looking forward to more!

(I would say:" to another year" but I know that the fic will not last that long any more *sigh*. But you mentioned other projects set in the RaM universe *hopeful smile*)

Have a wonderful day!

[Hogwarts Duo]

WOW!!! Has it really been a year since Minerva went to Poppy and began her rant about Albus, only to have him overhear and then start the entire chain of events that has led up to wonderful lemons and romance??? That sure was a fast year!

Happy Birthday!!

[MMADfan]

minerva62 said:

Congratulations!!!!!!!!!!

RaM is now exactly one year old!!!!!

Thank you, MMADfan, for one year of fascinating entertainment!
This is really one of the best fan fictions ever.

We are truly blessed with an author like you. I would even say that you are better than JKR although she invented the characters, of course.

Looking forward to more!

(I would say:" to another year" but I know that the fic will not last that long any more *sigh*. But you mentioned other projects set in the RaM universe *hopeful smile*)

Have a wonderful day!

Thank you very much! I am glad that I could bring everyone so much entertainment and that my countless wasted hours of writing have been appreciated. ;D

Yup, we're almost to the end. We're coming up on the 23rd of August, and the story goes through the first week of September. But in those days, a lot of loose ends will be tied up! (I hope so, anyway!)

Thanks again!

Oh, and BTW, I loved esoterica1693's joke, but I was afraid that if I added any more words to the chapter I posted after it, I would have to break it into three, as I did with the lemony version, despite it not being much longer than the tame version. It was a funny joke, and I can see someone doing an ADMM drabble based on it! ;D

Also, I LOVE the CR boards new character limit! (Well, I love the CR board, anyway, but the new limit is terrific.) I don't have to divide the chapters up at all over there! They all fit in one fantabulous post! Yippee! A pity that the ADMM board still has this puny character limit. There have been times I have put off posting just because it's so annoying to have to break it up and do multiple posts. Yay, Sprinks & Co.! ;D

[MMADfan]

hogwartsduo said:

WOW!!! Has it really been a year since Minerva went to Poppy and began her rant about Albus, only to have him overhear and then start the entire chain of events that has led up to wonderful lemons and romance??? That sure was a fast year!

Happy Birthday!!

Aw, thanks! I loved the Birthday Balloons! It has been a fast year, but I do wish I could have written faster. Although I suppose, considering its length (780,187 words so far, according to WordPerfect), I did write fairly fast!

Thanks again!!!

[Leaves of Green]

I haven't finished finished the latest chappie, but I just wanted to say Happy Birthday RAM!

[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.

CLI: Melina Marries Her Muggle

Albus carried Minerva back up the stairs, his right arm around her, the other, under her thighs.

“I would bring you to your rooms, my dear, but I would rather that I were the only one to enjoy this particular vision of you,” Albus murmured into her ear.

“Mmm,” was the only response that Minerva could manage.

“You are the most beautiful, most passionate, most wonderful woman in the world,” Albus whispered. “I could never have dreamed of such a witch, nor dreamed she could love me as you do. I love you, my sweetest, dearest Minerva.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Albus paused to kiss Minerva, lightly at first, then with growing passion. Finally, still kissing her, Albus reached out with his right hand and touched the door, only breaking his kiss to say, “Peppermint pillows,” causing Minerva to giggle.

Albus grinned at her. “They really are a superlative sweet, Minerva. You should try them!”

Minerva laughed more at that as the door opened. Albus kissed her cheek softly as he carried her into his bedroom. He stood beside the bed for a moment, just looking at Minerva, then he sat on the edge of the bed. Minerva leaned forward and kissed him.

Running her hands over his back, Minerva said, “I do believe you are wearing too many clothes.”

Albus simply smiled and lay back on the bed, bringing Minerva with him. He rolled over onto his side and whispered, “You do, do you?” He kissed her mouth, drawing gently on her lips and teasing her tongue with his own.

He began to make love to her, and said, his own breath coming in gasps. “It doesn’t matter what I might be wearing, Minerva, if I am making love to you. Mmm, so wonderful, so good . . .”

Minerva’s hands found the front of his robes and she began to unbutton them. When she tried to push them from his shoulders, Albus cooperated by rolling Minerva onto her back and letting her push them down and off. Minerva’s eyes shone and she ran her hands down his chest before he leaned in closer to kiss her.

Soon, Minerva was calling out his name, and Albus gasped and sighed, holding Minerva tightly to him.

As Albus caught his breath, Minerva kept her arms around him, and when he seemed about to roll away from her, she whispered, “No, please, not yet. Stay – unless you’re uncomfortable.”

“Not uncomfortable, but aren’t I heavy?”

“Mmhm, wonderfully so,” Minerva said with a sigh. “But not too heavy.”

Albus turned his head and kissed her temple, then relaxed completely. “I love you, my dear Minerva.”

“And I love you, Albus,” Minerva replied softly. “This was more wonderful than anything I could have imagined.” She stroked her fingers through his hair. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Albus chuckled. “It was difficult not to, and now I wonder at how I was able to resist for so long.” He sighed. “But . . . I wish I could make love to you all night long and that we had nowhere to be in the morning. I had wanted to be able to make this perfect and romantic for you, my love, and although I certainly can’t regret it at all, I do wish we were already on our holiday and we could take our leisure with each other. I did so want this to be romantic for you, as perfect as possible.”

Minerva smiled. “It was as perfect as possible, Albus. I am very, very satisfied, and in the stairwell . . . you did take your leisure with me there, and to very good effect, I must say.”

Smiling, Albus raised up to look at her. “It was easy with you, to make love to you. I simply love to touch you, kiss you, caress you . . . and more. And to feel how much pleasure I can bring you, that in itself is wonderful. I hope I am always able to bring you pleasure, as well as joy and contentment.”

“You do, more than I could have dreamed,” Minerva said.

Albus kissed her lips lightly, and very gently moved off of her. He grinned. “Time to be rid of the boots, I believe, my dear.”

Minerva reluctantly let go of him as he sat up. His robes were in a pool at the side of the bed, and he pulled off his boots and socks and dropped them beside his clothes.

He lay back down beside Minerva and ran his hand along her side. When Albus’s hand reached her robes, which were bunched about her waist, he said, “This can’t be comfortable. All the way on or all the way off?”

“Off, I should think!” Minerva said with a smile.

“Mmm. Allow me, then,” Albus said in a low voice, his hand again travelling up her side.

He gently kissed her, then he brought both hands to her waist and found the few hooks that kept the skirts tight around her. With their release, he pushed her robes down and Minerva toed off her shoes. Albus kissed his way down her body then he pushed the robes down and onto the floor to join his. Albus knelt beside the bed and slowly began to roll down one of Minerva’s stockings, kissing her leg as he went, then did the same with her other stocking. He kissed his way back up her legs, first kissing one side and then the other, until he reached her hips. Albus settled back up on the bed beside Minerva and pulled her to him, sighing as he held her in his arms.

“I keep wondering whether I will wake up to discover this is a dream, but it is too wonderful to be a dream,” Minerva said, kissing his shoulder then his cheek. “And you are so tremendously real and warm.”

Albus kissed Minerva lightly then said, “We would be warmer if we got into bed. If you would like to, that is. For a while, anyway.”

“Mm, yes,” Minerva said.

Albus took her hand and sat up with her, kissing her lips and seeming to forget why they had sat up, kissing her repeatedly. Minerva moved to sit on his lap, encircling him with her legs. Albus continued to kiss her, then reached between them to caress her; with his right hand, he cast a spell to pull the covers back from the bed. Minerva began to caress him, causing Albus to break their kiss and gasp.

“Oh, Minerva, that’s . . . oh . . .”

They kissed each other in any spot they could reach. Albus kissed Minerva’s ear, then moved his tongue in a spiral around it before taking her earlobe between his lips.

“Minerva, oh, gods . . . I want you again,” Albus breathed into her ear.

“What do you want, Albus? Please tell me. I want to hear it. Please say it,” Minerva whispered, “as you did before. Those words, please . . .”

Albus swallowed then kissed her ear lightly before whispering the words she had uttered in Poppy’s office all those weeks before.

“Oh, that sounds . . . that sounds so erotic when you whisper it like that,” Minerva said softly.

“Will you, then?” Albus whispered. “Will you?”

Minerva pushed Albus back against the bed, then she kissed his lips, drawing his tongue into her mouth as she began to make love to him. Albus moaned.

“You like this?” Minerva whispered.

“Yes . . . ahh, gods . . . yes,” Albus managed to reply, his voice hoarse with desire.

Minutes later, they were both breathless and exhausted, lying in each other’s arms.

“Minerva, Minerva, my love, my delight, my sweet, sweet delight,” he gasped. “I love you so . . . I love you so, my sweet delight.”

“Albus, Albus . . . my darling Albus,” Minerva said softly.

They lay in the quiet for a while, catching their breath, as Minerva caressed Albus’s back. She felt utterly sated, warm, and complete, and perfectly happy to have him resting on top of her as he was.

Albus, gradually returning to himself, blinked his eyes open. “Minerva?” he said softly.

“Mmmm . . .” Minerva was gently running her hands over his back.

“I . . . I hope that I haven’t been . . . I don’t want you to find me crude,” Albus said hesitantly.

“I am the one who wanted to hear you say what you did,” Minerva replied, yawning. “Mm. That was very, very nice.”

“And I wasn’t too rough?” Albus asked.

“No, not at all. And there can be a place for a little bit of . . . vigour, too,” Minerva said. “Not roughness, but . . . a lot of energy.” She giggled softly. “And you do have a lot of energy.”

“Oh, good . . . you know, despite . . . well, despite my years, and my, um, earlier experience, I am not used to talking about this sort of thing in a relationship,” Albus said, “but I want to . . . I want you to feel you can tell me what you like, or if I do something that you don’t like.”

“All right . . . I liked this very much. Everything you have done tonight,” Minerva said. “And I want you to feel the same, Albus. I want to know when you enjoy something, or if there’s something that you don’t like. For example, if you don’t like saying those words, that’s all right. I liked it. Coming from your lips, they sound . . . well . . .” Minerva could feel herself blush. “They sound rather naughty, which can be arousing. Not all of the time, obviously, but . . . but if you don’t feel comfortable with it, then that’s all right.”

“No, I don’t mind. But I don’t usually . . . I don’t want you to think I disrespect you when I say something like that,” Albus said. “I love you, and I want making love to you to make you feel loved. I never want you to feel bad because of something I might do or say.”

Minerva turned her head and kissed him. “I won’t. I am sure you will always make me feel loved, Albus. If there’s ever anything I don’t like, or that doesn’t feel good, whether in general or just in that moment because of my mood, I will tell you, but I don’t think you’d ever make me feel disrespected or unloved. Your love for me is very evident in everything you say and do.” Minerva thought a moment. “You know . . . if there’s ever anything you’d like to do or to try, but you’re nervous about it, just tell me, or we can just try it. If either of us doesn’t like it, we can just say that it’s something that’s better off remaining a fantasy. How does that sound?”

Albus nodded and slowly rolled off of her. He cast a mild cleansing charm on them both then, with a wave of his hand, he drew the covers up over them. Minerva snuggled up against him.

“I like that idea. . . . Have you . . . well, this may sound egotistical of me,” Albus said hesitantly.

“What?” Minerva asked, thinking that he hardly had the largest ego of any wizard she’d met, and he could still use a little more self-confidence in bed.

“Nothing,” Albus replied, his eyes closed.

“Please tell me, Albus,” Minerva asked gently.

“Have you ever . . . You mentioned fantasy. Have you ever had one? About me?” Albus asked.

Minerva laughed. “I tried very hard not to because I didn’t want to torment myself, but unlike you, I was not very successful in keeping myself from imagining what it might be like to make love to you. And so, yes, I have had fantasies and dreams about you. Some of the fantasies are not possible, anyway, but that’s sometimes the nature of a fantasy.”

“Really? What sort of fantasy wouldn’t be possible?” Albus asked, intrigued, and his curiosity overcoming his embarrassment.

“Oh, just . . . you know . . .” Now it was Minerva’s turn to be slightly uncomfortable.

“Now I’m quite curious,” Albus said. “Sex on a broom?” he asked.

“No!” Minerva replied. She looked at him. “Why? Do you have fantasies about having sex on a broom?”

“No, but I understand it is a common fantasy, and I think it would be rather difficult and dangerous, if not impossible,” Albus answered.

Minerva looked at him and smiled affectionately. She couldn’t very well ask him to be open about what he would like if she were unwilling to share even a simple fantasy. “All right, don’t laugh – or you may laugh, if you like, but don’t laugh too hard – but I had a fantasy that you took me against the wall back behind Greenhouse Three while there were people wandering about the gardens and we could have been discovered at any moment.”

Albus’s eyebrows rose. “Really? When was this?” he asked, sure that it had to have been sometime in the last few days.

“It was while you were on holiday, and I had come back to the school early, but you weren’t here,” Minerva said. “I was just remembering some of the lovely time we had spent together recently, and I thought of our walk near the greenhouses, and one thought led to another.”

“Sometime I would like to hear this fantasy of yours,” Albus said in a low voice, caressing her. “If you would like to share it, of course.”

Minerva smiled. “I will do that – if you will also share one of yours about me,” she said.

“Oh, well, I have tried not to think about you that way, you know,” Albus said. “I did have a dream once, though. I knew I was dreaming but couldn’t bring myself to wake up.”

“I don’t blame you,” Minerva said. “You must have been very frustrated. Or I hope you were, at least a little. Because you were attracted to me, I mean.”

“Very – I was very attracted to you, and I lived in fear that I would betray my attraction.”

“Hence our misunderstanding last week,” Minerva said. “But come now, I told you what my fantasy was. What was your dream? And don’t tell me you can’t remember it.”

“I do remember it, very clearly. I dreamed we were in my office and I didn’t let you leave. And I, um, we did it standing up, up against the door,” Albus said, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“My goodness! That does sound intriguing – and like something that we might actually be able to accomplish at some time,” Minerva said with a grin.

Albus returned her smile. “There are portraits there, my dear.”

“Oh, portraits! I don’t care about portraits. Not much. Unless they started talking to us while we were in the middle of something – that would be very disconcerting,” Minerva said with a little laugh.

Albus chuckled. “It would be! Can you imagine if they started to give us advice?”

Minerva laughed. “Well, they are there to advise the Headmaster, after all. Perhaps Dilys might have a few ideas on how to satisfy a witch!”

They both laughed, then Albus said, “Actually, according to Dilys, Eliphelet was quite a ladies’ man when he was Headmaster. Or he believed himself to be. He apparently would have relations with any witch who was in the least bit willing, and make passes at others. But I didn’t get the feeling that Dilys was particularly impressed by his performance. Or his lack of discrimination.”

“Lack of discrimination?” Minerva asked. “Oh, do tell!”

“Well, she said – and I think this is what gave rise to the dream I had – that he would have had Dustern on the settee and followed it up with raising Perlecta’s skirts and taking her against the door,” Albus said, trying not to feel embarrassed.

“Oh, my!” Minerva laughed. “They certainly are different types – and the thought of Dustern! I shouldn’t be uncharitable, but she is not particularly attractive.”

“No, I never found her so. Although when I first began teaching here, before we began having our differences, I had the impression that she found me . . . um, I don’t know, appealing, I suppose,” Albus said, feeling as though he were sounding egotistical.

“I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if she did,” Minerva said, nodding. “In fact, not only does it make sense simply because you are an extremely attractive wizard, but it also would explain the depth of her dislike for you. It seemed to go beyond mere professional differences, and yet I never got the sense that you had some kind of personal falling out. But if she had been attracted to you and you didn’t respond to her – ” Minerva shrugged. “ – that could lead her to feel more resentment toward you when you did have differences of opinion.”

“Possibly. That hadn’t occurred to me,” Albus said. He turned his head and kissed her softly. “I love you, my dear, I love you and I can scarcely believe how very blessed I am that you love me as you do.”

“For a long time, I had been resigned to loving you and never being with you,” Minerva said, “so I feel as though I have been blessed, as well.”

Albus caressed her, and when she yawned, he said, “I do not like saying this, my dear, but I do believe it is time for us to dress and for me to walk you to your rooms. It must be midnight, at least.”

Minerva stiffened. “Back to my rooms . . . I can’t stay? You don’t want me to stay?”

“I do want you to stay, Minerva, I do, truly, but . . . I have had this notion, this . . . desire for the ideal first time making love with you. And this was wonderful, as was Tuesday, in your sitting room, and I wouldn’t wish that we had waited for a perfect moment, but . . . can you understand when I say that I want our first night together to be particularly special? That I want it to be romantic and wonderful, with no demands awaiting us in the morning? Tomorrow, we have to be up and out of the castle early. Hardly conducive to, well, to waking you the way I would like to. Can you understand that?”

Minerva, who had initially felt the beginnings of resentment and hurt bubbling in her, melted at his words. “Yes,” she said softly. “I do not want to leave, but I can understand.” She raised her head and looked at him and at his worried expression. “And I will look forward to that night, that special night, and I hope that I will not need to wait long for it.” She kissed him softly, then added. “Let’s get dressed, then, and you can walk me back.”

Albus visibly relaxed, and he smiled at her. “You are more wonderful with every passing day, Minerva. You know that, don’t you?”

“Mm, as long as you recognise it!” she joked, pushing the warm covers off of Albus. “Cast us a nice warming charm. I don’t want to get cold when I’m dressing.”

Albus chuckled and Summoned his wand, then he cast a warming charm that encompassed the entire room. He swung his legs around and got out of bed. “You may wish to use the loo, so I’ll warm it there, as well,” he said as he crossed the room.

Minerva smiled. “You are very considerate. Thank you, Albus!”

Reluctantly, despite her agreement with his proposal, Minerva forced herself from the bed and found her robes, her stockings, and her shoes. Because the robes had three layers to them and it had been a warm day, she hadn’t worn a chemise. She looked around, then shook out her robes. No knickers.

“Albus!” she called.

Albus came out of the loo, apparently having taken advantage of his brief trip, and said, “Yes, my dear?”

“Where are my knickers?”

Albus stopped stock-still in the centre of the room, a blank expression on his face. “You know . . . I am not sure. I simply banished them without much thought.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t really need them,” Minerva said, “but I do hope you didn’t accidentally banish them to the staff room, or some such place.”

“I am sure they will turn up,” Albus replied. “They are probably in the laundry somewhere.”

“I hope so,” Minerva said, doing up the charmed hooks on the skirts of her over-robe and then lacing the bodice of her under-robe.

She sat to draw on her stockings, and Albus quickly averted his gaze and Summoned his own robes. Minerva looked up at him.

“Everything all right, Albus?”

“Fine, my dear, but you have the most attractive ankles and calves – I do not want to become distracted. I need to keep my mind on the current mission,” Albus said, blushing as he slipped his own robes on and buttoned them manually.

Minerva smiled. He found her ankles and calves attractive. He really was too sweet sometimes. “And what would that ‘mission’ be?” she asked teasingly.

“Getting you back to your rooms without ravishing you on the way there,” Albus said, looking over at her and giving her a shy little grin.

“We shall have to try that variation sometime, though,” Minerva said with a laugh.

Albus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I am desperately trying not to imagine what that might be like, my dear. Please do not test me!” he said with a chuckle.

“Very well, I’ll be good – for now! But I do look forward to that. Until then, my mind will be filled with dreams and fantasies of how you might ravish me, you know!”

“And you will have to share those with me,” Albus said, coming over to her and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now, the first decision is whether to take the backstairs or to go down through the office and then take another way back up to your rooms.”

“As much as I would like to prolong our time together, Albus, I do not wish to encounter anyone else at the moment,” she replied, “and I think that would be best accomplished by taking the backstairs.”

Albus agreed, and when they reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to her, smiling. “What would you have done if I had said I wanted you to use a Glamour?”

“I would have been utterly shocked,” Minerva said with a laugh.

“You really are a little vixen, you know that, don’t you, my dear?” Albus asked teasingly.

Minerva shrugged slightly, still smiling. “I did try.”

“I hope that it is a side of you that we will see again,” Albus replied. “It was quite enticing.”

“I will exercise my imagination, then,” Minerva said, putting her arms around him.

CONTINUED

[MMADfan]

CONTINUED

CLI: Melina Marries Her Muggle, CONTINUED

Albus kissed her softly, then held her in his arms for a moment. “We had better go, my dear,” he whispered.

Minerva nodded and let him open the door for them. It seemed to take no time at all for them to reach her rooms. They instantly noticed something different: the Silent Knight had his helmet off, and he was seated, leaning up against a tree, holding an apple in his hand and seeming to examine it. It had one bite from it. When he saw them, he pushed himself up to his feet.

“My lady,” he said, bowing, his long, straw-blond hair falling over his eyes. “How may I serve you?”

“You don’t have your helmet on,” Minerva remarked, surprised.

“Would you like me to put it back on, my lady?” he asked deferentially. “It is the first time in several hundred years that I have removed it.”

“No, it is fine – why haven’t you removed it in hundreds of years? Or, more to the point, why have you removed it tonight?” Minerva asked.

“Ah, that is a very long story, but I do feel the geas lighten. It is held by a mere thread, my lady, and I could tell you my tale now, if you wish to hear it,” the Knight said.

“We would like to hear it sometime soon,” Minerva said, “but it is late now. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after?”

The Knight nodded. “As you wish, my lady. If my geas is entirely lifted, I do not know what may happen, however. But perhaps that shall still give us the time for the tale to be told. Do you wish to enter, my lady?”

“Yes, we would, thank you,” Minerva answered. She turned to Albus. “Come in just for a moment?”

Albus followed her into her sitting room and she closed the door behind them.

“With more people in the castle, I didn’t want to say good-night to you out in the corridor,” Minerva explained.

“Or kiss me good-night?” Albus asked before leaning forward and brushing his lips over hers. “I had a wonderful evening. I wish we didn’t need to leave in the morning. Would you like to have breakfast with me? Something quick? We should leave no later than eight-thirty.”

“That means it will be a short night for you again,” Minerva said. “I’m sorry.”

“I am not. I will sleep very well tonight.” He leaned forward and kissed her again. “So, breakfast?”

“Yes, seven-thirty?” she asked.

“Good. I will see you then.” Albus reached behind himself for the doorknob, gave Minerva one more kiss, then whispered. “Good night, my sweet, sweet delight.”

Minerva was smiling as he left. She didn’t know whether she would sleep that night, she was so very happy, so filled with a sense of joy and contentment, but she got ready for bed in her usual manner. She set her wizarding alarm clock for six forty-five, and when she got into bed, she fell deeply asleep, dreaming of Albus.



Minerva stepped out onto the damp pavement, waiting for Albus. The marriage ceremony had been brief and to the point, though the gentleman performing the wedding had been quite pleasant, almost jovial, and Melina, in her pretty white lace and silk dress, was every bit the beautiful and joyful bride. Brennan, dressed in his best charcoal grey suit, a red carnation in his buttonhole, was nervous and had dropped the ring when his best man, a Muggle named Geoff, handed it to him. Minerva could see every witch and wizard in the room twitch as they restrained the automatic urge to utter an Accio. But the ring had rolled beneath Albus’s chair, and he easily bent and retrieved it for them, handing it to Brennan with a wink and a smile that put the younger man at ease, almost as if by magic.

Albus was dressed in the same suit he had worn to deliver Pretnick’s letter, but had a white boutonniere and tie with Gryffindor red and gold diagonal stripes, rather than the bow tie he normally wore with his Muggle attire, and his Glamour had shortened his beard only slightly and brought his hair up to just brush his shoulders. After the wedding, Albus had taken Brennan, Melina, and Murdoch into a small room near the registry office, having spoken to the registrar of marriages and told him something vague about estate planning and inheritances and needing to speak with the bride and groom alone for a few minutes. Albus had said that it wouldn’t take long and had whisked Melina, Brennan, and Murdoch into the room to remove the heavy binding he had placed on Melina and Brennan the month before and to replace it with a light marriage binding. In principle, he had told Minerva over breakfast, he didn’t really approve of marriage bindings – most of the traditional ones anyway – but this would be the lightest binding, the only one actually possible to cast on a mixed marriage, and it would ease the couple’s way with the Ministry. As a part of his wedding present, he had given Melina a Portkey that would bring them to the atrium of the Ministry so that they could register their marriage later that afternoon.

“A Muggle marriage is always valid in the wizarding world,” Albus had explained, “whether it’s registered or not. It can be registered at any time or never. But since Brennan is a Muggle, it is important for Melina – and for Brennan – that he be recognised as a member of a wizarding family, so they should register it immediately.”

Minerva was waiting, therefore, for Albus and for her brother, her niece, and her niece’s new husband. She looked up to the sky. It was threatening rain again, and Albus had their umbrella. He had Transfigured one for them before they Apparated to Edinburgh, saying an Impervius Charm just wouldn’t do amongst Muggles. She wished now that she had taken her parents up on their offer to wait with her, but she had sent them on to the restaurant, saying that at least someone of the family should be there when the other guests began to arrive.

She wiggled her toes. She really had to see whether she could find a more comfortable pair of Muggle pumps. Or just put a charm on them. That might be most sensible. She, too, was wearing the same suit that she had worn to deliver Pretnick’s relatives, and although she found it less than comfortable, Albus had expressed his appreciation for it. Minerva was beginning to believe that he would find her attractive in a potato sack. She smirked to herself. Of course, a potato sack would be very revealing, quite short, in fact. They might have some fun with that . . . .

It began to rain, and Minerva went back up the stairs and into the building, entering just as Albus and the others were coming toward her.

“It’s raining,” Minerva said, resisting the urge to take Albus’s arm. “Good that we have the umbrella.”

“I’ll run out and bring the car around,” Brennan said. “I’ll be just a minute.”

“Car?” Murdoch said.

“Yes, but it’s quite all right, Dad – Brennan will be driving, not me!” Melina said.

“Here, take the umbrella,” Albus said, holding it out to him.

“Ta!”

As they waited for Brennan to come back with the car, Melina said, “Geoff had wanted to drive us, but we told him and Jenny we preferred to have them go on to the restaurant and make certain that everything was ready for our arrival. Geoff found it puzzling that we wouldn’t be going along, but I told them there was family business that we needed to take care of. I’m afraid that Jenny told him you were my uncle, Professor, so if he, or anyone else, mentions it – ”

“Ah, I will be quite the genial uncle for you, then, my dear,” Albus said. “And perhaps that might finally encourage you to call me ‘Albus’?”

Melina grinned at him. “I could try. Maybe I could start by calling you ‘Uncle Albus,’” she said.

“How is he supposed to be related?” Minerva asked, feeling slightly unsettled. “It is rather peculiar.”

“Oh, a lot of people call relatives ‘uncle’ or ‘cousin’ when it would be too hard to call them by whatever they really are – can you imagine introducing someone by saying, ‘this is my second cousin, once-removed, on my mother’s side’?” Melina giggled giddily. “You can just be a vague sort of relative like that. Maybe by marriage or something. Anyway, I doubt anyone will ask. If they do, just say something about the family tree being complicated, or something.”

Albus laughed, then Murdoch called out from where he stood by the door, telling them that Brennan had arrived with the automobile.

Minerva was displeased when she saw that Albus would not be seated beside her, but then Egeria showed her that he was to sit across from her. Of course, Melina and Jenny couldn’t have known that she would have wanted to sit next to him, but Egeria had, and she told Minerva that she had changed the place cards around when she and Merwyn had arrived to bring Albus to sit closer to Minerva. Melina and Jenny’s aim had been to distribute the witches and wizards among the Muggles in the hopes that they would remember not to discuss anything of the wizarding world if each one was seated beside at least one Muggle.

Albus found his place and smiled and winked at Minerva as he sat down across from her. She grinned back at him. Soon, Minerva was sipping her mimosa and chatting with Brennan’s brother’s wife, a pleasant middle-aged woman, while Albus discussed internal combustion engines with her husband, Daniel. Albus seemed to know something about the Muggle contraptions, somewhat to Minerva’s surprise. Daniel was apparently a mechanic and loved to discuss his work.

As she listened to Sarah, Daniel’s wife, discuss their three children, one of whom was starting at university that year, Minerva kept looking at Albus out of the corner of her eye. She knew that he had special plans for them that afternoon, and she guessed that they were weather-dependent, since he had said that he hoped the rain would be gone from Hogwarts by the afternoon. He certainly did enjoy surprising her and romancing her, Minerva thought. She wished she could reach across the table and take his hand as Egeria had just taken Merwyn’s hand.

Gertrude and Malcolm were, as far as Minerva could tell, the only wizarding couple seated together. Other wizarding couples were seated across from one another, even if they weren’t seated entirely apart – although Murdoch and Poppy were at opposite ends of the table, Murdoch across from the best man and Poppy seated across from Quin. But since Murdoch had sat beside Poppy after having presented his daughter to her groom, Minerva didn’t think that it meant that they were no longer on good terms. It was odd, though, to see Gertrude and Malcolm seated together, beside one another as they were. Minerva didn’t know whether that indicated that Melina thought they were a couple and yet somehow inseparable by the width of the table, or that Melina hadn’t a clue that they were together, but had seated them next to each other for some completely different reason.

Minerva took a bite of her quiche, wishing that they could leave soon, but knowing it would hurt Melina’s feelings if they were to go early. Albus was laughing at something that Joshua, one of Melina and Brennan’s Muggle friends had just said to him, and pleasurable shivers went through Minerva. She really wanted to be alone with Albus. She slipped off one of her pumps and reached out with her foot, finding Albus’s leg easily. When he looked over at her with a startled expression, she just smiled at him and moved her foot over his ankle, her toes under his trouser leg. He blinked, then returned her smile.

It was a relief when the happy couple left the restaurant a half hour later, leaving the guests to their own devices, which meant drinks all around, according to Murdoch. Minerva got up and went over to Murdoch to let him know that she and Albus would be leaving. She bent to speak with him, and he turned.

Grinning up at his sister, Murdoch gave her a wink and said, “So, you and Albus will be off?”

“Yes. I am sorry, but we had plans at Hogwarts – ” Minerva began.

“That’s just fine, M’nervy! You and Albus go have a good afternoon,” Murdoch said cheerfully. “I hope you enjoyed being within a stone’s throw of him rather than at opposite ends of the table. Once Mother moved Poppy, she had to move everyone else down one so you and Albus could sit across from each other, so Poppy and I haven’t had much opportunity to talk. But Mother assured me it was in good cause!”

Minerva, wondering how much her mother had told Murdoch and how much he may have guessed, returned to Albus and touched his shoulder lightly. He excused himself from the table, offered Minerva his arm, and the two left, stopping only at the coat check to retrieve their umbrella and Albus’s homburg.

When they stepped outside, Albus smiled to see the sun shining.

“Ah, very good! Perhaps we will have some luck and the sun will be shining at Hogwarts, as well,” he said.

“So, what are we doing this afternoon?” Minerva asked.

“I would like it to be just a bit of a surprise for a little while longer,” Albus replied. “It isn’t anything very fancy, just something I thought you would enjoy, but it is dependent on our having fine weather this afternoon.”

“All right, Albus,” Minerva said with a smile. “I am sure I will be pleased, whatever it is you have planned.”

“Let’s find a nice spot to leave from, then, shall we?”

They Apparated to the gates and began to walk back up to the castle.

“I will be very glad to get out of these Muggle clothes,” Minerva remarked, “and into something more comfortable.”

Albus grinned at her. “Would you require any assistance in that area, Professor McGonagall?”

She returned his smile and said, “I just might, at that, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Well, then, shall I accompany you to your rooms and lend you a hand?” Albus asked.

“Indeed, that would be most appreciated,” Minerva replied. “And you might also assist me in selecting something appropriate for this afternoon’s outing, if you would be so kind.”

“I shall endeavour to be of some help in whatever you may need, my dear Professor,” Albus said with a twinkle.

“Let’s take the Floo from my office, then, Professor Dumbledore, so that we may embark upon this activity as soon as possible,” Minerva said, barely restraining a mirthful grin.

“A very sound suggestion, Professor McGonagall,” Albus said, not restraining his own grin and giving her a wink, as well.

The two hastened up the stairs to the large oak doors, eager to reach Minerva’s office and her Floo and even more eager to attain the privacy of her suite.

[Hogwarts Duo]

I’ve posted my main review to this chapter in the lemon section since there was so much I wanted to comment on from that version. But, I did want to take a minute and say THANKS for taking the time to create two versions of the lemony chapters. It’s nice to know that even those who can’t read the lemons can still enjoy the story and read most of the same content as the rest of us. I’m sure it takes a lot of time and effort to cut or edit the tangier bits, but I’m also sure it’s appreciated.

Once again, a phenomenal chapter. I love how Albus and Minerva are expressing their love more freely and yet taking time to make sure they’re both on the same page at every step. Albus is slowly growing more confident in his abilities to please Minerva and her acceptance at his appearance and it’s showing in the way he’s initiating more physical contact with her. They’re certainly going to enjoy a long and healthy sex life together, given the state of things now. Haha.

Hope to see another chapter soon. I’m addicted, if you couldn’t tell!!

Have a great rest of the weekend and thanks for giving us an update today!!

Toodles,
GLM

[Hogwarts Duo]

Okay, so I have some time on my hands and was reading back over this chapter! I found one thing in particular very funny and I had to ask about it.

I’m afraid that Jenny told him you were my uncle, Professor, so if he, or anyone else, mentions it – ”

“Ah, I will be quite the genial uncle for you, then, my dear,” Albus said. “And perhaps that might finally encourage you to call me ‘Albus’?”

Melina grinned at him. “I could try. Maybe I could start by calling you ‘Uncle Albus,’” she said.

“How is he supposed to be related?” Minerva asked, feeling slightly unsettled. “It is rather peculiar.”

OH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, tell me that Melina had to introduce Albus and Minerva to someone (maybe one of Brennan's relatives) and she introduced them as her Aunt Minerva and "Uncle" Albus. That would have been hysterical and soooo cute. I can just seem Minerva going into spasms, unsure of what to think of the situation though secretly loving it. Anyway, just had to share!!!

I'm really looking forward to the next update. Given the build-up in the last chapter at the end, it's sure to be HOT HOT HOT!

[MMADfan]

Note: The next chapter of RaM, "Abiding Love," is available on the Lemons forum here on the admm board as well as on The Petulant Poetess and Lumos.

The extensively edited, less zesty T-rated version of "Abiding Love" is up at FanFictionnet. The edited version can also be found in the "Friends of CR" area of the CR board, and now HERE, as well! It is posted in two parts because I was just told: "Your message exceeded the maximum allowed 25Kb (25,600 characters). Your message was 36,744 characters. Please shorten your message." And this is the SHORT version of the chapter! LOL! About seven pages shorter, in fact.

CLII: Abiding Love

Minerva Flooed through to her sitting room first, and Albus followed quickly.

As soon as Albus stepped out onto the carpet, Minerva looked at him, trying to maintain a serious expression, but her eyes sparkled and she said, “So, Professor Dumbledore, you offered your assistance. How do you believe you may be of the most help?”

“Ah, Professor McGonagall, I have a few ideas, which may be best demonstrated,” Albus replied with a smile. “Perhaps I might first begin by offering to take your jacket?”

Albus helped Minerva from her suit jacket and placed it neatly on the back of one of her straight-backed wooden chairs.

“I believe it will be easier for me to perform my duties if I remove my own jacket, as well,” he said, removing his jacket and placing it on the other chair, but leaving his waistcoat on. “And if you would come and stand here, my dear,” he added, indicating a point beside the small table.

Minerva came and stood in front of him, but he took her by the shoulders and turned her so that she was no longer facing him. “Like this, perhaps, my dear Professor,” Albus said in a soft, low voice that sent a frisson through her. “Mmm. Very good.”

Minerva felt his lips on the back of her neck, and his hands slid from her shoulders, his arms coming around her in a partial embrace. As Albus’s lips moved over the nape of her neck, his hands caressed her gently through her blouse.

Albus nuzzled the side of her neck then whispered, “Shall I proceed, then, Professor McGonagall?”

“You certainly may, Professor Dumbledore,” Minerva answered. Her eyes were closed and a pleasant warmth and tingling had begun to flow throughout her body. His voice, his laughter, and his sheer presence had been stimulating her all morning, and now that they were in the privacy of her rooms, she fought her impatience, and simply enjoyed the sensations of his lips and fingers caressing her.

As he continued to find new places on her neck to kiss her, Albus moved his hands down her abdomen, caressing her stomach and chest.

“You are so beautiful, my dear,” he said in a low voice as his fingers teased her through the silk blouse. “You are . . . mmm, absolute perfection.”

“I am very glad that I meet your approval,” Minerva said, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, but feeling quite breathless.

“Very much,” Albus murmured.

Albus moved his kisses lower on her back as his hands stroked downward and he came to kneel behind her. He sat back on his heels as he ran his hands down her legs. He softly caressed the fronts of her legs then the backs of her calves, first cupping them with his palms and then grazing them with his fingers, down to her ankles then up her calves to the backs of her knees, hidden beneath her blue skirt.

Albus swallowed, then said, “Lovely legs, my dear. Very pretty ankles and calves.” His fingers caressed her as he spoke, wandering again from her ankles up her legs to just beneath her skirt. “And nice silk stockings,” he whispered as his explorations brought his fingertips up her thighs. “A charm, I see,” Albus remarked as his fingers found the tops of her stockings and tentatively sought any Muggle undergarment holding them in place.

His fingers continued to caress her legs, now concentrating on the bare skin of Minerva’s thighs above the stockings. When his fingers began gentle, teasing touches of her inner thighs, Albus smiled to hear Minerva’s intake of breath at the sensation.

“Mmm,” Albus let out a sigh as he straightened, placing his cheek against her back. He turned his head and kissed her lower back, then he whispered, “I believe I may be of assistance here.”

He brought both hands to her right leg and inserted a finger beneath her stocking, releasing its charm, then he slowly rolled the stocking down her thigh, caressing her skin as he did so. When he reached her knee, he moved both hands up her leg again. Albus was again rewarded by a gasp.

“Is everything well, Professor McGonagall?” he asked in a low voice. “Is my assistance satisfactory?”

“Oh, quite,” Minerva said. She was now gripping the edge of the table. “Quite satisfactory, indeed.”

“I shall attempt to be most thorough,” Albus said as he brought his hands to her left leg and began to roll down her other stocking, again caressing her thigh as he did so and stopping at her knee.

“I appreciate care and attention to detail, Professor Dumbledore,” Minerva responded as Albus caressed her legs. “Ahhh . . . yes, your care is very much appreciated.”

Albus returned to removing Minerva’s stockings, slowly rolling down her right one. As he began to bare her leg below the hem of her skirt, he followed the progress of his fingers with his lips, gently and sensuously kissing her calves.

“Oh, gods . . .” Minerva didn’t think she could bear this slow, tortuous pace, and yet she didn’t want him to change anything he was doing. “Please, proceed as you are, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Have I told you,” Albus asked, his breath warm on her left calf as he pushed down the stocking on that leg, “that your burr is most pleasing?”

“I don’t believe you have mentioned that, no,” Minerva answered, trying to think through the haze of sensation that Albus’s kisses and caresses were creating in her.

“Oh, most pleasing, my dear Professor,” Albus said just before caressing her calf. “It is quite . . . stimulating to hear you say my name as you do.”

“Is it, now, Professor Dumbledore?” Minerva asked rhetorically, her voice low.

“Oh, yes. In fact, as we were walking back to the castle, I was most . . . enthusiastic about the prospect of our afternoon together, and when you said my name, it was even more stimulating,” Albus said, his hands again wandering up under Minerva’s skirt before travelling back down to her ankles.

Albus pushed the stocking all the way down and said, “You may step out of your shoe now, my dear.”

He removed first one shoe and stocking for her then the other before beginning to kiss her calves once more. This time, however, he did not stop at the hem of her skirt, but continued up the back of one leg, then down the other. His hands went to the waistband of the skirt, exploring until he found where a hook fastened it on the left side. He unhooked it then slowly drew down the zip, and Minerva’s skirt fell to the floor in a pool at her feet. She was wearing no slip, only her knickers.

“Professor Dumbledore, you are very adept,” Minerva said, gasping again.

“I did offer my assistance to you, and I shall endeavour to do my best,” Albus said, his voice roughened with his own mounting desire. “Shall I assist you further?”

“Yes, please, Headmaster,” Minerva said.

Albus brought his hands up to her sides and pulled her knickers down around her ankles. He lifted one of her feet and then the other, removing the clothing and Levitating it across the room to the sofa.

“You didn’t banish them,” Minerva remarked with a smile.

“Not this time, no,” Albus replied. He still had not told Minerva where he had found her other knickers, just that he had. She had questioned mildly him about it at breakfast, but he had only grown pink and smiled, telling her that she could retrieve them later that day, if she wished.

Albus brought his hands back up her legs, but to Minerva’s frustration, he did not approach any of the areas he had newly revealed. She felt him rise to his feet and stand behind her. He turned her to face him then kissed her lips lightly.

“Would you care for further aid, Professor McGonagall?”

“That I would,” Minerva replied, putting her arms around him and looking up into his eyes. “If, of course, you care to give it, Professor Dumbledore.”

Albus chuckled. He pulled her toward him, pressing her up against his body. She could feel his reaction through his trousers.

“I would certainly care to,” Albus replied. “However, I believe that I am somewhat overdressed and encumbered by my clothing.”

“Perhaps I might be of some help there,” Minerva said with a smirk, bringing her hands around and beginning to unbutton the gold buttons of his waistcoat. She pushed the waistcoat from his shoulders and sent it flying across the room to join her skirt, then she tugged at his tie, loosening it, as she began to kiss his lips lightly. His tie loose, she proceeded to unbutton his shirt and then pull the shirttails from his trousers and push his braces down.

Albus shrugged out of his braces as he returned Minerva’s kisses. He reached behind her with both hands and undid his cufflinks, allowing them to simply fall to the floor. Minerva finished loosening his tie and Levitated it over to the sofa, never breaking her kisses or turning her attention from her next task: the removal of Albus’s shirt. With his cufflinks gone, it was a quick matter to push the shirt off and send it to join the rest of the clothes, now in a disorderly heap, but then she encountered his vest.

“Off with the vest, please,” Minerva ordered.

Albus grinned down at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

He pulled the undergarment off over his head, shaking out his hair and beard as he did, and Minerva began to work on his trousers.

“You are in excellent condition, Professor,” she said in a low voice. “Quite impressive.”

She continued to undress him, helping him off with his trousers, then with his shoes and socks.

“Is that an improvement, Professor Dumbledore?” Minerva asked.

“I am certainly less constrained,” Albus said with a smile.

Minerva stood back a little bit to look at him.

“You have quite the figure, Professor,” Minerva said, in both mock seriousness and genuine admiration.

Albus swallowed, his grip on the chair so tight, his knuckles were white. “Thank you very much, Professor McGonagall. I am glad that it is pleasing to you.”

“Very, very pleasing,” Minerva said softly, caressing him.

Albus cleared his throat. “But now that I am unencumbered, I believe that I may resume lending my assistance to you, my dear. I would not wish to shirk my duty.”

“Yes, you did promise to help me with my Muggle attire, and I am still wearing this blouse,” Minerva replied nodding.

Albus unbuttoned Minerva’s silk blouse and removed it, then he touched the top button on her chemise, and it and all of the other tiny mother-of-pearl buttons released.

“I hope that you are more comfortable now that you are out of your Muggle clothes, Professor McGonagall,” Albus said. “You look quite comfortable, if I may say so.”

“I am very happy,” Minerva replied, her eyes half-closed.

“I think that after a full morning encased in those Muggle garments, you may require some special attention, however,” Albus said in faux seriousness. “May I proceed and see whether I may bring you further . . . relief?”

“Most certainly, Professor. Whatever you believe best,” Minerva replied, her eyes roving his body. “My gods, you are magnificent.” She blushed. “That is, I am certain that you are fit for the task at hand, Headmaster. And I trust your judgment.”

Albus grinned and backed her up to the little table, then he lifted her up to sit on it. At a discreet gesture from him, the table’s legs lengthened.

“I believe I had best begin here, then,” Albus said, kissing her creamy skin and caressing her, taking his time. “Was that useful? Might it be advantageous for me to continue?”

Minerva nodded. “Yes, please, do!”

Albus continued to kiss and make love to her. Minerva rested some of her weight on her left hand as she watched Albus. She brought her other hand to his head and threaded her fingers through the long hair at his back, her nails digging slightly into the skin of his broad shoulders.

“Mmm, I could do that for hours, my dear Professor,” Albus said, drawing back slightly, “but I did promise to provide some attention to your entire body. Is that acceptable to you?”


“Yes, yes, it’s just fine,” Minerva said breathlessly.

“Then just lie back,” Albus said, pulling her toward him. “Just lie back and relax. Let me continue to be of assistance to you, my dear.”

Albus stepped in toward the table, pulling Minerva just a bit closer to the edge, then proceeded to make slow, tantalising love to her, bringing her to the greatest heights of pleasure.

Finally, Minerva collapsed, gasping, her entire body limp. Albus kissed her knees before easing her further onto the table.

With a whisper and a slight flick of his finger, Albus lowered the table slowly until it was at his waist height. He reached out with both hands and slowly drew them down Minerva’s sides and then rested them on her thighs.

Looking down at her with a smile on his face, Albus said softly, “Now, you also requested assistance selecting appropriate clothing for this afternoon’s outing.”

“Mmm,” Minerva murmured, blinking up at him. “We will need to go into the bedroom to do that, Professor Dumbledore. And I do believe that I need to lie down for a little while first. Would you join me? You may need to recuperate some, yourself. And,” she said, eying him, “you do appear to be in need of some attention, as well.”

“Do you believe so, Professor?” Albus looked down at the focus of Minerva’s attention. He looked back up at her with a twinkle in his eye and said with a grin, “It must be your very charming company, my dear.”

Minerva reached out and caressed him then kissed him, enjoying his reaction to her touch.

Finally, Albus gasped, and he said, “Enough . . . enough for now. Please.”

Minerva looked up at him. His eyes were closed and he was breathing hard. She smiled, then she leaned forward and kissed him once more.

She said, “I do believe you are in very good condition, indeed, Professor Dumbledore. The Muggle clothing does not seemed to have had any deleterious effects on your lovely assets. But I do believe that we should perform further tests to see whether my initial assessment is accurate,” she said, smiling up at him.

“I would very much approve of that, my dear Professor,” Albus said, reaching down and placing one warm hand around hers. He leaned over and kissed her upturned face. “I love you, Minerva McGonagall. I love you dearly,” he breathed and kissed her lips again.

“I love you, Albus Dumbledore,” Minerva whispered back. “I love you forever.”

Albus put his arms around her and lifted her off the table, holding her close and breathing in her scent.

“You mentioned something about a little lie-down, my dear. Shall we?” Albus suggested.

Minerva smiled. “Yes, let’s.”

She took his hand and led him into her bedroom. She pulled back the covers on the bed. “Do you have a preferred side?” she asked.

“The side next to you, my love,” Albus said softly.

Minerva turned and looked up at him, seeming to search his face. “How did I ever become the fortunate witch? It doesn’t seem possible.”

“Fortunate witch?” Albus asked her, genuinely puzzled.

“To have your love,” Minerva said, reaching up and caressing his face. “I don’t understand it at all. I should be doomed. I should be doomed to always seeing you, loving you, and never having you, never having your love. I believed it impossible.”

“No, no, my dear,” Albus said, shaking his head. “You are too beautiful and too wonderful to ever be doomed, and it would be a tragedy if you were. And I do love you. I would have tried to have been happy for you if you had loved another, if you had desired some other wizard, and you do deserve to be happy. But I am very glad that you love me as you do.” Albus kissed her gently.

Minerva pulled him down onto the bed with her. “On the right, then,” she said.

Albus’s eyebrows rose in question.

“My right side, to be closer to your heart,” Minerva clarified.

Albus smiled and moved over, making room for her to curl up next to him, then he pulled the covers up over them both. Minerva rested her head on his chest, then turned and kissed him through his beard. Sighing, she said, “Must we go anywhere this afternoon, Albus?”

“Well, it isn’t a matter of necessity, but I do believe you will enjoy it. And we do have to eat,” Albus replied.

“We could call for food here,” Minerva pointed out.

“Yes . . . but I did rather have this in mind for a while, particularly over the last few days,” Albus said. “But if you would prefer not to . . .”

“I don’t know what I would prefer, as I don’t know what you have planned,” Minerva replied.

“True, and although I did want it to be a bit of a surprise, it isn’t a very big one, anyway, so I suppose I can tell you now,” Albus said. “I had thought that we could go back to that spot on the mountain, the one across from the school, and have a picnic lunch. If you would like to. I thought we could spend the rest of the afternoon there . . . and we would be away from any prying eyes and out of reach of any staff members who might think they would like to pop in and have a chat with one or the other of us.”

“Then let’s do that, Professor Dumbledore,” Minerva said. “But after our nap.”

She raised up and looked down at him. “You really are very thoughtful and romantic. Thank you. I hope you know how much I appreciate it.”

Albus kissed her. “I wish to make you happy, my dear. If I am able, I will do whatever you wish if it will make you happy.”

“Make love to me, Albus,” Minerva said with a smile.

Albus flipped her over. He looked down at her, a mischievous grin on his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

-/-/-/-

CONTINUED

[MMADfan]

CONTINUED

ABIDING LOVE, CONTINUED

Minerva lay back in a haze, exhausted and sated. Albus lay beside her, one arm across her, his breathing still ragged. As she regained her own breathing, she looked over at him with some concern. His arm was still around her, but he was lying partially on his stomach, his face turned away from her. She remembered her concern from earlier in the summer that he was too old for such activity. She no longer believed that, if she ever had done and not simply used it as a way of avoiding the thought that he might be sexually involved with another witch, such as Gertrude, but it could still be the case that Albus was pushing himself too much, exerting himself too hard, and tiring himself. He was over eighty years older than she, after all.

Minerva reached out a hand and gently ran it over his back. He was sweating, as would any man after that exertion, and his heart was pounding, though no more so than her own, and she could feel his pulse slowing as he lay there quietly, but his breathing still seemed somewhat laboured. She rolled over onto her side to be closer to him, and she kissed the top of his shoulder, the closest bit of skin to her lips.

“You all right, love?” she asked softly.

Albus nodded. She heard him take a breath then clear his throat.

“I’m fine, my dear.” He turned his head toward her. “Really, I am,” he said softly.

Minerva saw tears glittering still on his eyelashes, and she looked at him in wonderment. With gentle fingertips, she caressed his cheek and felt they were damp. She did not know what to say or what to ask. A few times, Rudolf had shed tears as he came, but they were brief and short-lived, a product of the intense emotion of the moment.

“What is it, then?” she asked finally.

Albus closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them, his bright blue eyes looked directly into hers. “It is you, your beauty, your youth . . . and that I do not deserve you, nor do I deserve such joy and happiness. And also . . .”

“Yes?” Minerva asked, wanting to hear everything.

“And the thought that . . . it is hard to capture in words . . . the thought that that was just a fleeting moment in my life. That this time with you is fleeting. And that I could eventually lose you, that there is no such thing as forever,” Albus said softly. He did not tell her that for a moment, just for a moment, he believed it to be a certainty that he would lose her. It seemed to go hand-in-hand with not deserving her and not deserving the happiness he had been experiencing with her.

Minerva shook her head and continued to caress his face. “Every moment is fleeting, but when I am with you and we are making love, there is a moment when I feel as though that moment contains eternity, and in that eternity abides my love for you. And my love for you, Albus, is not fleeting. I do love you. I love you forever.” She kissed his lips. “And you cannot lose me, especially not now. You have held my heart for so long, even when I rather desperately wished that you did not. Now you cannot lose me, not really. Even if something were to happen to me, if I were to die in some bizarre accident or were to contract a fatal illness, you still would not really lose me. Because I have given you my heart, Albus, I have given you my heart. I hope that you can accept that. I believe what you wrote in your poem, Albus, that your love for me will not fade with time but will only grow. Believe the same of me. Please.”

Albus leaned over and kissed her. “I do now, with you here. But that does not change the fact that I still believe myself undeserving of it and that something will happen to . . . to make it right, to make things even, that you will be taken away from me somehow because that is what I deserve, and not this happiness.”

“Oh, Albus! Of course you deserve happiness, as much as being happy has anything to do with what one may deserve or not – which isn’t much, I think. You have the capacity for happiness and joy, and if you have that capacity, you certainly should take advantage of it. There are poor unfortunate souls who have no capacity for happiness, regardless of their lot in life, and others who have narrowed and shrunk that capacity down to the size of a thimble through their own miserliness. You haven’t done that, Albus, even with the pain you have had in life, you haven’t done that.” Minerva thought for a moment. “And there are people who may feel pleasure and seek it out, but whose happiness or capacity for true happiness I question. The way you describe Grindelwald, for example. It doesn’t sound as though he was ever happy, nor would he have been happy even if every soul on the planet had called him Master. He had his pleasures, but I doubt they gave him any happiness or joy. Probably because he didn’t love anyone but himself.” Minerva smiled at Albus. “You love, though. And of course, loving can result in pain sometimes, but I think it’s also where we find happiness, don’t you, Albus?”

Albus kissed her lightly. “I do, indeed. And you are right. I don’t know, I just had a moment of sudden bleakness when I thought of losing you, and it seemed for a moment that it was only right and just if I were to lose you, but that is nonsensical.” He grinned. “You love me, after all, even though I am a foolish old codger sometimes.”

Minerva playfully pretended to slap him. “Now those are words I don’t want to hear. Forbidden from your vocabulary, at least when speaking of the wizard whom I love and adore!” she scolded.

“Yes, ma’am, Professor McGonagall,” Albus said cheekily, his good humour restored. “But I am getting very hungry. The brunch was nice, but that was hours ago. Perhaps we should have some tea and biscuits before we leave on our picnic.”

“A good suggestion, but we can’t leave as we are, anyway,” Minerva pointed out. “And you were going to help me choose something to wear.”

“Ah, yes, you won’t allow me to shirk my duties, will you?” He rolled over and was about to get out of bed, when he spied Minerva’s bedside table. He sat up and looked at it. “The little photograph.” He picked up the picture. “You did put the rose there, then,” he said, looking at the frame with the dried rose affixed to the corner.

“Yes, I did. Before I had seen your frame, in fact. That is one thing that struck me so strongly when I saw how you had decorated it,” Minerva admitted.

“And the two white stones and the nazar,” Albus said as he replaced the picture in its position just behind the stones.

“Yes, that’s what I was trying to hide from you that day you came into my bedroom to see where I would put my new photograph of the two of us, which, as you can see, is still in its own place on the vanity,” Minerva said, gesturing toward the dressing table.

Albus turned more to look at her. “That was a wonderful evening, wasn’t it?” he asked softly. “The entire day was. I enjoyed it more than I had any day in very many years, though that probably sounds silly to you.”

“No, it doesn’t. When we were out that evening, I kept wishing I could allow myself to believe that it was a real date,” Minerva replied.

“It was, in a way. And if ever I had believed that it was possible for you to love me and that my own feelings for you were not entirely inappropriate, then that night is when I would have told you of my love, I am sure,” Albus said. “Instead, I began to tell you of our wands, which then led to me later telling you . . . about how they came to be in the first place.” He thought for a moment. “I think that by telling you all that about myself, by entrusting you with so much of my story, some things which I had never told anyone else, it was my way of becoming as close as possible to you without telling you how much I love you.”

“You did tell me that you love me. That night, you did, the night you told me about yourself. You said it without thinking, I believe,” Minerva said, smiling at his startled expression. “You told me that you had to hide the people whom you loved from Grindelwald, how you could not think of them so he would not know you loved them. You named me among those you loved.”

“I did . . . yes, I suppose I did,” Albus said, remembering.

“Of course, I then told myself that you had named others for whom you felt no romantic love, but it still brought me a measure of happiness, particularly since just a couple days earlier, you had told me that you were ‘fond’ of me,” Minerva added. “This seemed to confirm that you still did love me, even if you still only loved me as you had when I was – when I was younger.”

“When you were a student, you mean to say,” Albus said softly, looking away again.

“Yes,” Minerva said simply.

Albus nodded. “Yes, I did love you then, but it is different now. The way I loved you changed.”

“I know, Albus. But I am glad of it; not just of how you love me now, but that you loved me then. When my mother told me that you loved me when I was a student, I was glad of it, but I was also sure that your love for me had remained the same as it was, and that made me despair. Each time I felt a reason for hope that you might love me, it was always accompanied by a shadow of despair that told me it wasn’t possible. Fortunately, recently I was listening more to the hope than the despair most of the time.”

Albus’s brain had stopped at one phrase of Minerva’s. Ignoring the rest of what she had said, Albus asked, “Your mother told you I loved you?”

“Yes, she said that you loved me when I was a student. That if you hadn’t loved me, you couldn’t have staunched the drain as you did. She said that she knew then that her faith in you was not misplaced and that you would do whatever was necessary to protect me. She said that your love was perfectly altruistic and unselfish,” Minerva said. “Of course, I was happy to hear that, but confused, as well.”

“I see . . .” Albus thought for a moment, then said, returning to the present, “I suppose I should get dressed. Let me know if you do want assistance selecting your robes, though, my dear.” He looked around. “I do wish I had a dressing gown, though. As comfortable as I was a little while ago, I do not feel comfortable wandering about your suite in my altogether.”

Minerva laughed. “Wait a moment, Albus.” She sat up and Summoned her wand from the sitting room, and it flew, still in her Muggle handbag, into the bedroom. Minerva took her wand and waved it again, Summoning a fluffy white towel from the bathroom. “Blampa insists on bringing me piles of towels. I always have extra,” she explained.

She thought for a moment, then grinned and waved her wand. “Here you go, Albus,” Minerva said, handing him his new dressing gown.

Albus laughed and put on his new robe. No longer terry cloth, but of soft woven silk, the dressing gown was ankle length, with vertical stripes of varying widths in red, gold, green, silver, blue, bronze, yellow, and black. The same coloured stripes ran diagonally on the large, billowy sleeves; each sleeve ended with a wide cuff, one in green with black piping and one in red with yellow piping. The wide hem was of bronze with a gold edge, and the shawl collar was bright blue with silver piping. The sash was striped in bronze and black. It was garish, but peculiarly appealing at the same time.

“It is Hogwarts-themed,” Minerva explained unnecessarily. “I thought since you were Headmaster, I would use all the colours of the different Houses. It isn’t as ugly as I thought it would be,” she observed as Albus stood and walked around the bed.

“It isn’t at all. I expected something quite functional but perfectly sensible, my dear, and you certainly surprised me!” Albus said, eyes twinkling. “Thank you very much!” He bent and kissed her.

“You are welcome! Now you don’t even need to get dressed in those Muggle clothes again. You can just Floo through to your office,” Minerva said.

“Oh, well, I don’t know . . .”

“Why ever not?” Minerva asked, getting out of bed herself. “You just need to get undressed again in order to get ready to go on our picnic. And I don’t know about you, but I want a shower now.” She really wanted a shower with Albus, but if they did that, they would never go on the picnic that he seemed to look forward to so much. Besides, he probably still wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

“Yes, but . . . if there is someone in the office – ”

“Who would be in your office?” Minerva asked somewhat impatiently. He did seem to have a talent to make things complicated sometimes, while at other times, he seemed to make everything simplicity itself, even when it wasn’t. “Look, I’ll throw on my dressing gown and call through. If there is anyone there, I’ll say I was calling you, and then you can dress and take your stairs or Floo, whatever you prefer. If there is no one there, you can Floo to your office with no worries.”

Albus nodded. “Most sensible, my dear.” He did not relish the thought of putting his Muggle attire back on.

“You could even just walk like that to your backstair, if you wanted, Albus,” Minerva pointed out as she stood and walked over to her wardrobe. “You could just do your invisibility trick. That way you would avoid anyone who might be in your office and still remain unseen.”

“Very good. I am not accustomed to this, I suppose,” Albus said. “In fact, that is what I will do. No need to call through, Minerva. I’ll just take my backstairs directly to my bedroom.”

Minerva opened her wardrobe. “Good. Now . . . I thought I would wear these robes this afternoon, and bring my tartan cape,” she said, pulling a set of mossy green robes from her wardrobe. They had swirling designs in rusty brown running through them, and a border of the same rust colour along the hem and cuffs. They were warm, comfortable, and durable. The sun was shining, but it was still damp and somewhat chilly for August, even in the Highlands.

Albus smiled. “Those are very pretty on you, my dear. And quite practical, as well.”

Minerva put on a lightweight dressing gown, but didn’t close it.

“Shall I meet you up in your sitting room, or down in the front hall?” Minerva asked as they walked into the sitting room.

“I don’t know how long either of us will take . . . I could come by and pick you up, and we could have our tea and biscuits before we leave. That way I could, um, bring you your knickers,” Albus said with a slightly embarrassed smile.

Minerva grinned at him. “All right. I’ll make us tea, then, as soon as I’m out of my shower. But you have to tell me where you found my knickers,” she insisted. “I shall surely die of curiosity if you don’t!”

Albus blushed. “Last night when I went to bed, I rolled over onto my side, trying to get comfortable, and put my hand under my pillow, as I often do, and I felt something unusual. Your knickers were under my pillow.”

Minerva laughed, and Albus joined her. “That is very sweet, Albus.” She reached up and kissed him. “So,” she said, a teasing grin on her face, “what did you do when you discovered them?”

Albus’s blush grew. “Oh, I, um . . . well, I put them back.” When Minerva laughed again, he added, “It seemed a safe and sensible place to keep them!”

“Yes, of course it did, Albus.” She hugged him, leaning against his chest. “I love you, you know, Albus.”

Albus returned her embrace. “I am beginning to get the idea you might have just a wee bit of affection for me,” he said with a smile. He kissed Minerva’s forehead. “Now I must leave, or we will be picnicking at midnight. It doesn’t stay light as long as it did, so we don’t want to delay.”

“Of course,” Minerva answered, smiling up at him. “Although a midnight picnic could be quite romantic.”

Albus kissed her lightly before sitting down next to the pile of clothes on the sofa. “I shall remember that,” he said as he began to sort out his clothes from hers.

Albus found his socks, and as he pulled them on, they Transfigured into soft slippers with stripes matching those in his new dressing gown.

“Very nice,” Minerva said, again impressed by Albus’s abilities. She wondered if the day would ever come when she was not impressed by his magical talents and imagination.

He grinned up at her. “It wouldn’t do to be wearing a pair of dull slippers with this beautiful robe – I think I may make the Transfiguration permanent, in fact.”

“Go right ahead,” Minerva said. “You know, I had to ask Blampa to bring me uncharmed towels. When I first tried to Transfigure a towel, I discovered they had an Anti-transfiguration Charm on them. I didn’t remember that from when I was a student.”

“Oh, yes, there was an incident a couple years ago with some students. A series of rather unpleasant practical jokes. All of the general Hogwarts linens – towels, sheets, and so forth – now have an Anti-transfiguration Charm on them. Of course, with members of staff, there is no need for it, but most staff don’t think to Transfigure their towels and don’t even notice it,” Albus replied with a smile.

“I wanted to make table linens, as I didn’t have any but I didn’t want to ask Blampa for Hogwarts napkins and such. It was for our first breakfast together,” Minerva explained. “I used some old scarves instead.”

“And the table was very pretty, I remember, as were you,” Albus said. “You looked so fetching in that yellow frock. It was quite distracting, my dear.”

“Really?” Minerva grinned. “I must remember that!”

“Mmm, I had to retire to the loo and cast a Cooling Charm on, um, certain parts of my anatomy. I didn’t have my wand with me, and the entire room felt like an icebox,” Albus said with a grin.

Minerva’s own grin grew. “That is nice to know.”

“Mmm, now I’m off to change. I’ll be as quick as I can!” Albus said, rising with an armful of clothing and going to her door.

“All right,” Minerva replied, walking over to the door with him. “I look forward to it!”

As Minerva was speaking, Albus disappeared. She blinked and focussed on where he had been standing. She couldn’t detect a thing, although he was close enough to her that she could feel his magic quite clearly, perhaps even more strongly than she had when he was visible.

“I will see you soon, Minerva,” Albus said.

Minerva felt a warm hand on her cheek then his lips on hers, and then the door was open and she sensed that he stepped through. The door closed with a soft click, and Minerva felt alone again. But Albus would be back. She smiled and went into her bathroom to take a very fast shower so that she could have tea ready for him when he returned.

[MMADfan]

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

POSTED IN THREE PARTS BECAUSE OF THE SYSTEM LIMITATIONS.

CLIII: Sweet Delight

“Minerva?”

Minerva heard Albus calling her from the sitting room, and she hurried from the bedroom where she had been finishing fixing her hair. Merely because they were going on a picnic was no reason for her to look scruffy, after all.

“I didn’t think you would mind if I let myself in,” Albus said as he recovered from the kiss that Minerva gave him.

“Not at all. I’m glad you did!” Minerva replied with a broad smile. It was good to see him becoming more comfortable with her. “I made tea for us, and there are biscuits. Ginger newts, of course, and some iced lemon shortbread that Poppy introduced me to. I thought you might enjoy those.”

The two sat down at the table and Albus smiled. “Very prettily laid table, Minerva,” he remarked. Minerva had gone to more effort than she usually would for just serving tea and a few biscuits. “Shall I be mother?” he asked as he reached for the teapot.

“Thank you, Albus,” Minerva replied. “I thought that even though we haven’t much time, we could still have something nice.”

Minerva had charmed the tablecloth with a delicate, subtle design of climbing ivy and yew branches, and she had charmed a little painted red rose on either side of her ordinary white teapot, likewise decorating the plain white teacups. She had thought of all the effort that Albus had gone to over the last days to create special occasions for her, and although she knew that he enjoyed doing it for her, she wanted to return his gestures in some small way.

After Albus had fixed her tea precisely as she liked it, a little milk, no sugar, and his with milk and two teaspoons of sugar, he said, “As I was getting dressed and putting my Muggle clothes away and in the laundry, I had a chuckle thinking about your father and his aversion to trousers.”

Minerva laughed. “Yes, and he was most relieved to learn he wouldn’t have to wear trousers to the wedding today!”

“Very clever solution, I thought,” Albus said with a smile. “And he had no need to make use of the advice I gave him regarding Muggle undergarments, either.”

“Yes, well, it was Mother’s idea, actually,” Minerva said. “She thought that if all the McGonagall men were clad in matching kilts and jackets, it would dress up the wedding some, as well as avoiding the need to get Dad into trousers. Malcolm grumbled a bit that he couldn’t wear his favourite jacket, but I think he actually likes the new one that Mother got him. Morgan complained because he doesn’t like wearing a kilt. He says it’s draughty and he’s got knobby knees, but something Fiona told him – and I don’t care to speculate what it might have been! – quite changed his attitude. I understand he’s been wearing a kilt almost constantly for the last week, ever since his wife talked him into it. Murdoch, of course, was quite easy going about it, although he seems at home in trousers, since he wears them frequently, himself.”

“Your three brothers are quite the handsome lads,” Albus observed, “though of very different types.”

Murdoch could almost be described as brawny, and was certainly quite hearty – tall, broad, and heavily-muscled – and Malcolm, though equally tall and broad-shouldered, was of a slimmer, leaner build. Morgan was the shortest of the three brothers, just an inch taller than Minerva herself, with light brown hair and brown eyes that seemed almost golden in certain lights, and he was the least active of the three, though still lithe and quick-looking. Fiona was almost his height, with fiery red hair and a passionate nature, much more out-going than her husband, but still with a warmth and sweetness that matched Morgan’s own. They did hang on to one another in public a bit too much for Minerva’s taste, and it must have been torture for them to be seated across from one another at brunch that morning, but Minerva did like her middle brother and his wife. She should have made time to see them that summer, Minerva thought regretfully, but she had been rather absorbed in her own life. Still, she had invited them to her tea, and they had declined, so it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried.

“Yes, they all looked rather handsome today, and I thought that Mother was looking quite lovely, too,” Minerva said. Fwisky had likely helped Egeria with her hair, as it was in a much more complicated arrangement than she usually managed. She had been wearing an ankle-length pleated skirt of the same tartan as the men’s kilts, a white blouse with a wide, ruffled, self-tie down the front with a pearl stick-pin, and a short jacket similar to those the men were wearing, which picked up one of deep greens in the plaid. It was an attractive outfit and not out-of-place at an informal morning wedding. Minerva almost wished she had worn something similar, but perhaps undressing might not have been as enjoyable.

“What is that smile for?” Albus asked, noting the gleam in Minerva’s eye.

“I was thinking that I might have worn something like Mother’s outfit, but undressing would not have been as enjoyable,” Minerva said, smiling more broadly.

Albus grinned. “You appreciated my assistance, then?”

“Very much so,” Minerva answered, her eyes sparkling. “That was the only reason I was at all reluctant to go on our picnic. But I am quite looking forward to it now. And I feel as though I need the walk.”

Albus was wearing robes of the same colour as the rusty designs in Minerva’s robes that day, with a chevron pattern woven into the fabric, creating an impression that the material shimmered as he moved. The collar and cuffs were of a darker rust with a floral design embroidered in gold, and his under-robe was of the same darker colour. The over-robe was slit at the sides, corresponding to the deep pleats of the under-robe. Minerva thought he looked quite handsome, and told him so.

“Thank you, my dear,” Albus replied, successfully subduing his blush, but with a pleased smile on his face. “And you, as always, look wonderful. I shall be quite disappointed to see the beginning of the school year and your teaching robes emerging once more.”

“Ah, but you will also be able to remove those robes, Albus,” Minerva said, “if, of course, you are as adept at removing wizarding clothing as you are Muggle attire!”

Albus grinned. “I may need to practise. Would you mind if we practised frequently?”

“I suppose we could,” Minerva agreed with a grin. “But I don’t look forward to our busy schedules,” she added more soberly. “Actually, I do look forward to it, in a way, but I regret that we will have so much less time together, and that our free time might not always coincide.”

Albus reached across the table and took her hand. “We will just have to work on it. It will take some doing, but I am sure we can find time to be together. And it is yet one more reason to look forward to our little holiday!” he said, squeezing her hand.

Minerva smiled. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Ready to leave for our picnic now?”

“Yes – but first,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I do have something of yours to return.” He held out her knickers to her.

“Thank you,” Minerva said, grinning. “Are you certain you wouldn’t want to sleep with them again tonight?” she teased.

Albus did blush at that. “No, no, that is . . . um, that is fine.”

They stood and Minerva put her arms around him. “You know, you needn’t be embarrassed. I actually slept with your robes once. Not that I had intended to, of course.”

Albus looked surprised and very confused. “How is that?”

“Your birthday, remember? You left your rose and gold robes here? I held onto them and, well, they smelled like you, so I lay down with them and held them close,” Minerva confided. “I had been disappointed in your response to my profession of love, and it comforted me to hold on to them and breath in your scent. I must have just fallen asleep with them. I don’t even recall doing it, or even getting into bed that night. When I woke up the next morning, I was still holding them close. I cast a freshening charm so that my foolishness wouldn’t be evident.”

Albus squeezed her more tightly. “I am sorry . . . I responded the only way I knew how at the time. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Ever. I love you.”

“I know, and I understand,” Minerva said. “Now let’s be off – where’s the picnic basket?”

“Wilspy will bring it when I call her,” Albus replied, taking Minerva’s hand. “I am looking forward to this. I am glad it is agreeable to you.”

Minerva smiled up at him. “Anything to spend more undisturbed time alone with you, my sweet Albus. And that is a lovely spot.”

-/-/-/-

It was almost four-thirty when they reached their picnic spot on the mountain. They barely took a moment to enjoy the view before they sat down on their blanket and cushions and Albus set up their meal, which could hardly be called lunch any longer, it was so late.

After they had eaten their fill of bread, cheese, cold chicken, tomatoes, and some spicy deviled eggs, Albus pulled a small, oddly-shaped, long-handled, covered pot from the picnic basket.

“What’s that?”

Albus glanced up at her and grinned. “You don’t recognise this?” he asked, seeming pleased with himself.

Minerva shook her head. “Looks like a peculiar kind of cauldron to me,” she said, trying to swallow the last of her Wensleydale with a sip of her Sylvaner.

Albus laughed. He drew two long rods from the basket, each with a tiny, two-pronged fork at the end, as Minerva looked on with interest. Perhaps they were going to do some sort of Alchemy, she thought, and when she voiced this speculation, Albus just laughed again.

“No, not Alchemy. Something more enjoyable even than that,” he said. “You really don’t know? Wonderful!” His pleasure at surprising Minerva was evident in his smile. “You will enjoy this, I believe, my dear.”

The next thing he pulled from the basket was an oval china bowl with a lid on it. He removed the lid to reveal strawberries and smallish cubes of what appeared to be pound cake. Albus waved his hand over the pot, then removed the lid with a flourish.

“Voila!” he said.

Minerva could smell chocolate and some kind of liqueur. She leaned forward to look into the pot. It was three-quarters full of smooth, warm, melted chocolate.

“Fondue,” Albus explained. “You take one of these, put a strawberry or a bit of cake on the end, and dip it in the melted chocolate.”

Albus put a strawberry on the end of one of the long forks and dipped it into the chocolate, swirling it slightly as he lifted it out. He held it toward Minerva, who leaned forward and ate the strawberry directly from the skewer. Her eyes closed, and she chewed slowly and appreciatively.

“That is wonderful, Albus,” Minerva said with a satisfied sigh. “Is there Cointreau in it?”

Albus nodded. “Yes, mainly Cointreau and dark chocolate. Honeydukes, of course,” he added with a grin.

Minerva picked up the other skewer and put a cube of cake on it, dipped it into the chocolate, then offered it to Albus, who smiled before he closed his mouth around the delicious morsel.

They fed each other strawberries and cake, dipping them in the warm fondue, until every berry and every crumb of cake had been eaten. Albus put the pot back into the basket and cleared away the remnants of their picnic with a sweep of his wand. He moved closer to Minerva and pulled her over into his embrace.

“That was lovely, Albus. Thank you so very much,” Minerva said, kissing his cheek.

“You are most welcome,” Albus replied. “I hoped you would enjoy it.”

“Mmm, I did, very, but now I am quite sleepy,” she said.

“Then we can take a bit of a kip. We’re in no hurry today, after all.” Albus waved his wand and conjured a soft tartan afghan, covering them with it. “Comfortable?”

Minerva nodded. She was resting her head on his chest, his arms were around her, she was holding him; she couldn’t be more comfortable. “It’s perfect.”

Almost an hour later, Minerva stretched as she opened her eyes and blinked sleepily. It was clearly quite a bit later than when she had fallen asleep, but remembering what Albus had said about them not having to hurry, she didn’t check the time, but only rose up on one arm to look down at Albus’s face. He was asleep, his lips slightly parted, his breathing slow and even. She usually found it difficult to fall asleep with someone else present – it had taken her some time to become used to sleeping with Rudolf when she first moved in with him – but it wasn’t difficult at all with Albus. It simply seemed natural to fall asleep with him, and equally natural to awaken in his arms. She wondered when he would decide that they could spend the night together. Not that night, certainly, not with the duel with Malcolm in the morning. Probably Sunday, she thought with a slight sigh, when they were on holiday. But she could wait two more nights. She had waited more than fifteen years to be with him, after all, something she had believed to be completely impossible when she had first realised that she was in love with him.

It was wonderful to be so close to him, to be able to watch him sleep like this without worrying that he would wake up and find her staring at him. She loved looking at him, she loved it almost as much as she loved to touch him. And how she loved to touch him. Minerva’s heart beat faster as she remembered how he had reacted to her touch that morning, and how he had enjoyed her making love to him.

His lips were looking very enticing, and finally, Minerva could not restrain herself. Although she wanted to let him sleep, she wanted to kiss him even more. She approached his lips slowly and kissed them softly, then as Albus began to waken, she took his lower lip between hers and sucked it gently. With pleasure, she felt his arms embrace her as he pulled her on top of him, returning her kisses now.

Minerva kissed him languidly but sensuously. Albus moaned and opened his mouth further. Minerva tickled his palate with the tip of her tongue as she pressed herself against him, pleased to feel his reaction to her.

She kissed his lips lightly a few more times, then she pulled away just enough to look down into his bright eyes.

“Nice nap?” Minerva asked with a smile.

CONTINUED!

[MMADfan]

CONTINUED FROM ABOVE!

CLIII: Sweet Delight

“Very, but a much nicer awakening,” Albus said. One of his hands was still caressing her back, and his caresses moved lower.

“Are we alone? Really alone and private, Albus?” Minerva asked.

He grinned. “Yes, I believe so, although I could ensure that for you, if you wish. Do you have something specific in mind, my dear?”

Minerva tried unsuccessfully to suppress her own grin. “Why would you think that?”

She kissed him once more softly, then rolled off of him and stood beside him on the blanket.

“You might want to begin ensuring that right now, Albus,” she said in a low voice, bringing her hands to the front of her bodice and its charmed hooks.

Albus didn’t take his eyes from Minerva as he found his wand and quickly cast a few spells. He watched as she released the charm and the front of her gown opened. She did not further remove her robe, but did touch the waistband to loosen the skirts around her. She was wearing another chemise that day with tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. She slowly unbuttoned each one as Albus watched, pleased to see his eyes darkening with desire.

Still clothed, she toed off her shoes and raised her skirts on her left side. Lifting her knee and bending forward, Minerva began to roll down her left stocking. She removed it, then, straightening briefly, dropped it on the blanket beside her shoes. She removed her right stocking in the same manner.

Having removed her stockings, Minerva next shrugged out of the bodice of her gown. It was a bit chilly, and she took a moment to lazily Summon her wand and cast a Warming Charm on the air around her. She put down her wand, then pushed off her skirts. Now only in knickers and her open chemise, which just came to her hips, Minerva crossed her arms and ran her hands down from her shoulders, as if she were cold, then she brought her hands to her waist, placing her palms on her bare stomach, and she slid her fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers. Hooking her thumbs over the outside of the waistband, she ran her hands around to her hips and slowly pushed the knickers down and off, stepping out of them gracefully. They were fairly plain, as knickers went, off-white, but they had a lacy panel in the front, so they were a bit nicer than some she owned.

Minerva smiled and held out her knickers to Albus, who, as if moving in a dream, reached out and took them from her hand.

For the first time since telling Albus that he should ensure their privacy, Minerva spoke. “For under your pillow, Albus – and whatever other use you may have for them,” she said with a playful smile. She had been very aroused before she had begun undressing for him, and she was quite certain that her knickers no longer seemed at all freshly laundered.

To Minerva’s delight, Albus, not taking his eyes from her, brought the knickers to his face and kissed them lightly before putting them down.

She raised an eyebrow. “So, you like my knickers?”

“I would rather kiss you, but until then . . .” Albus said in a low voice.

Minerva smiled and stepped right beside him so that he lay back to look up at her. She took hold of the plackets of her chemise, as if undecided whether to rebutton it or remove it altogether, then she pulled it all of the way open and pushed it off behind her.

“You are very beautiful, my dear Minerva,” Albus said softly, looking up at her and reaching out a hand and caressing her leg. “Very, very beautiful, and very attractive.”

Minerva didn’t say anything in response, but bent at the knees and crouched beside him. She pulled back the afghan and tossed it aside. It disappeared as she did so, but without sparing the conjured blanket a thought, Minerva began to unfasten the few hooks at the waist of Albus’s over robe. She parted it then looked in consternation at his under-robe. It certainly fit him too closely to simply pull on over his head, but she saw no fastenings. It must button or hook in the back, she decided with a sigh. What a bother!

Albus grinned at her expression. “My left shoulder,” he said softly.

“What?”

“The seam at the left shoulder. Just run a finger along it and . . . imagine what you would like to happen,” he said with a smile.

Minerva did as he said, forming the intent that his robes unfasten. As her finger touched the seam, it opened up neatly, and when she reached the end, it didn’t stop there, but proceeded to open along the length of one side of his chest and all the way down to the hem. Minerva pulled back the front of the robe, baring Albus to the sky and her eyes. She brushed his beard neatly back across his chest. She ran her hand lightly down his beard once more, and then began to caress him. Slowly there on the mountainside, Minerva made love to Albus, kissing him and caressing him, showing him all her love and relishing his sturdy presence.

-/-/-/-

“Oh, Minerva . . . Minerva, my love and my light, my sweet, sweet delight,” Albus whispered, kissing her again, dazed.

“Gods, Albus, that was . . . fabulous,” Minerva said, sighing. She thought, incongruously, it seemed to her, that she was very glad that Valerianna had been such a fool and had never let him make love to her, or she never would have allowed him to leave her bed.

“You are wonderful, my darling,” Albus said, “so very wonderful. Everything you did . . .” He raised up a little to look at her. “You are so very loving and passionate . . . I just . . . I love you. I love you, Minerva.”

Albus was still partially clothed, Minerva having only exposed him to her touches but not having removed his robes, so as it began to rain, large, heavy drops, he gathered her in his robes with him as he sat up and Summoned his wand. Minerva snuggled close to his chest, her arms encircling him beneath his robes, and she felt his magic flow through him powerfully and beautifully as he waved his wand. Looking around her, Minerva smiled to see that he had conjured a large red and white striped tent, quite large enough for them to stand up in, about ten feet by ten feet. With another wave of his wand, he conjured four large lanterns, all lit, in the four corners of the tent. Fortunately, the tent encompassed their picnic basket, his shoes, and Minerva’s clothes, but the ground was still bare. Minerva watched as Albus Levitated their belongings with a wave of his left hand while casting another spell with his wand held in his right. She blinked to see such coordination. Their picnic blanket grew and spread to create a floor for their cozy tent. Albus cast one more spell with his wand to warm the tent more before putting down the wand and turning his head to kiss Minerva’s lips.

He smiled at her. “Fortunate timing that we have – I am glad that didn’t happen five minutes earlier!”

Minerva laughed. “That would have put a damper on things, wouldn’t it? But that was marvellous, Albus! You are amazing. Always amazing.”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t difficult, particularly with you and your wand so close at hand, even though you weren’t casting simultaneously.” Albus stopped and Summoned Minerva’s robe, looked at it, shook his head, put it back down, and removed his own over-robe, instead. He draped it over Minerva’s shoulders and wrapped it around her loosely. “Comfortable?” he asked. “Good. That reminds me, though,” he said as he rearranged some cushions behind him and pulled Minerva further onto his lap, leaning back with her, lounging against the pillows. “Could I ask you to leave your wand in your rooms tomorrow morning? That is presuming that you will be observing the duel, of course.”

“Yes, certainly. That hadn’t occurred to me,” Minerva said.

“I believe I have a sufficient natural edge over Malcolm as it is,” Albus explained, “but if your wand were nearby, casting would be much easier for me and take even less of my energy than normal. Hardly fair to him, especially as he is unaware of this particular advantage.”

“Of course. He did say something interesting to me the other day, though,” Minerva replied. “He said that when he first met you, there seemed something familiar about your magic, and that he realised that your magic felt similar to mine. And this must have been at least fifteen or sixteen years ago, I imagine.”

“Really? That is interesting. I thought, given his talent with wards and curse-breaking, that he must be sensitive to magical signatures, but it is particularly interesting that he should notice that similarity,” Albus said, holding her closer when she jumped as thunder cracked very close to them.

Minerva liked storms, generally, and the wind never bothered her, but being out in the midst of thunder and lightning, that high on a mountain, with the lightning striking so close – that did not appeal to her at all. It reminded her of her miserable time alone in the damp cold cave when she was young and caught in the violent storm on the cliffs near her home, so she certainly had no objection to Albus holding her close.

Shutting her eyes, she nestled closer to Albus, and tried to focus on their conversation. “Malcolm actually said that your magic is richer and more powerful, but that it was still similar.”

“It was good that you practised with him, then,” Albus said, his voice low in her ear. “It should help him a bit with me tomorrow.”

Minerva laughed. “I would think you would want every advantage you could have in a duel, Albus.”

“Oh, if it were something serious, of course I would, and I would withhold no tricks and cast as strongly as strategy demanded, but this isn’t that sort of duel. Besides, I want to take a true measure of your brother’s talents. I don’t wish to overwhelm him in defeat or cause him humiliation, particularly not in front of you and Gertrude. If I truly wished, I could probably defeat him easily within minutes, perhaps a bit longer if he were prepared for such a ruthless attack. But there would be no point in that, would there?”

Minerva shook her head slightly. “No, I suppose not. As you say, it would only embarrass him, perhaps hurt his self-confidence. And everyone already knows you are powerful.”

Albus chuckled at that, and he kissed her. “You say very encouraging words, my dear.”

“Well, it’s true. And you surely can’t be oblivious to the fact that you probably have three times the magical reserves of an ordinary wizard,” Minerva said. “And on top of that, you are very talented, skilled, brilliant, and imaginative. Your level of power and genius were what made me think that you were so far beyond my reach.”

“That is . . . inconsequential,” Albus said. “At least when it comes to my relationship with you, my dear. It’s not as though you were dull-witted, after all. And although I enjoy your magical talent, and I am pleased to see how well you use it, it wouldn’t matter to me if you were the magically weakest witch in the world. You are good, beautiful, kind, intelligent, caring, amusing, compassionate, attractive, and a host of other wonderful qualities too numerous for a mere mortal to name in one breath. And I adore you.”

“And you don’t mind that being so close to all this thunder and lightning makes me jump and cower?” Minerva asked, having done just that as he was speaking.

Albus chuckled. “Not at all, especially if said jumping and cowering brings you closer to me!” he said. “However, perhaps I can do something to reassure you.”

He reached out with his right hand and his wand leapt into it. Minerva could feel his magic flowing as he described an arc with his wand, beginning and ending with a flourish. He set down the wand again and put his arm back around her.

“Now, no lightning can strike the tent. I doubt that it would, anyway, but this will guarantee that it won’t,” Albus said.

Minerva could feel his magic vibrating as though he were still casting a spell. “What is that?”she asked. “It feels as though you are still casting.”

“Yes, it would. I could have cast a simple charm to deflect the lightning, but this is a stronger shield, and it will continue to draw on my magic until I either end the spell or fall asleep or lose consciousness for some reason – if you decide to Stun me into complete submission and have your wicked way with me, for example,” he added with a grin.

Minerva laughed. “I would love to have my wicked way with you, Albus, but I don’t think it would be much fun if you were Stunned!”

“Oh, one of those spells that you mentioned yesterday would probably help,” Albus said with an uncharacteristic smirk. “And there are probably other ways you could take your pleasure with me if you wished.”

“Well, even if I were to succeed in Stunning you – which I rather doubt is possible – I still can’t imagine it would be enjoyable, even with one of those spells. It would be rather . . . repulsive, actually.” Hastily, she added, “Sex with you is far from repulsive, and your body is marvellous, as I hope you realise, but with you Stunned and just lying there . . . maybe some other witch would find it pleasurable since, after all, you do have a very, very nice body,” she added, “but I wouldn’t find it so at all. I like having you alert and aware, and to know that I am bringing you pleasure. Not to mention that I like to feel attractive, myself, which would be impossible if you were just lying there unconscious.”

“You are very attractive yourself, Minerva. It was extremely arousing to watch you undress for me,” Albus said, his voice almost a whisper. “It was difficult for me lie there and not touch you as you . . . as you did what you did. I love to see you aroused and I love to touch you.”

“You are very good at that, too,” Minerva replied. “But I was enjoying bringing you pleasure. I love to touch you everywhere, to kiss you, to feel your warm, solid body. And if you had touched me, I would not have been able to focus on what I was doing, and I enjoyed that very much, though in a different way.”

“Mmm. It was . . . it was very pleasurable,” Albus said.

“I am glad. Were there things about what I did that you didn’t like or that you found uncomfortable?” Minerva asked.

“No, it was wonderful,” Albus said.

“Mmm, I am very glad,” Minerva said, resting her head back against his chest.

It didn’t seem that the storm had let up much at all, but Minerva felt perfectly secure with Albus there, and she could feel the gentle, steady hum of his magic. She thought she could almost fall asleep again.

They were quiet for a while, listening to the rain hitting the tent and the occasional roll of thunder, then Albus said, “Do you mind if I ask you something very personal?”

Minerva chuckled. “After what we have done together, what could be more personal? Ask me anything you wish.”

“I don’t feel it’s any of my business, and I shouldn’t ask . . . and really, it wouldn’t matter what your answer was, not really. But I am curious – ”

“Would you please just ask, Albus? If for some reason, I don’t want to answer, I will tell you that,” Minerva said.

“It is just – and again, I don’t mean to pry – but, that is, I was curious . . . I have assumed that you have had other lovers,” Albus said.

“Yes,” Minerva replied, “I have.”

“Many?”

Minerva shrugged. “Some people would think more than one was many and some people would think the few I have had was hardly anything at all. Of wizards whom I consider my real lovers before you, though, I would say that there were only three who would qualify. And one of them . . . one of them, we didn’t even really . . . we weren’t very physically intimate, as I was with the others. And there were a few other wizards with whom I was intimate, but whom I do not consider lovers, and I was with none of them long.” She hoped this answer would satisfy Albus. She really didn’t want to discuss her former lovers with Albus, though she assumed that he had guessed that she and Rudolf had been lovers.

“I see,” Albus said, caressing her back somewhat absent-mindedly as he thought about what she had said.

Minerva, her eyes closed, had thought her answer had ended that discussion, and was feeling as though she just might drift asleep despite the storm, when Albus asked another question.

“Rudolf was one of the wizards?”

“Yes, he was. He was a good man. He is a good man. But I wasn’t in love with him,” Minerva said. “I tried, but . . . I just couldn’t.”

Minerva felt Albus nod. “What was he like?” he asked.

CONTINUED!

[MMADfan]

CONTINUED FROM ABOVE

CLIII: Sweet Delight, CONTINUED

The discussion apparently wasn’t at an end. Minerva opened her eyes. She did want Albus to feel comfortable talking with her about anything, after all.

“He is strong, physically strong, and very, very bright. He thinks a lot, and when he speaks . . . he can be very serious, and you know that he doesn’t say anything that he hasn’t thought over. But he can also be quite playful, and he has a nice laugh. He is kind, but he doesn’t make a show of it. And otherwise . . . he is very tall, a few inches taller than you are, even, broad and muscular, dark-haired, although he was beginning to get some white strands in it when I last saw him. He has – or had – a short, close-trimmed beard and quite short hair, as well. Greyish eyes . . . I don’t know, what else would you like to know?” Minerva asked, thinking that it was very difficult to sum up a complex person like Rudolf, with whom she had believed she had a simple relationship that had turned out to actually be as complex as he was.

“What was he like when he was with you?” Albus asked.

“Attentive. Very attentive. And caring. Gentlemanly, always courteous. When we were alone, he was as attentive and courteous as he was in public, but more affectionate. He was a private man, really. I didn’t realise for a long time . . . I didn’t realise for a long time what a remarkable thing it was that he had brought me into his life as he had,” Minerva said softly, regretting again the pain that she had caused Rudolf when she left him.

“He was in love with you,” Albus said.

Minerva nodded. “Yes. And I loved him, in a way, but not enough . . . and I couldn’t stay with him, as I told you before. I couldn’t bear the thought of being away from you.”

Albus was quiet for a few more minutes, then he asked, “Who else?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you had three lovers and a few other . . . intimate friends,” Albus clarified.

“Oh . . . well, at one time, after school, Carson and I were together for a short time. But he ended it just weeks after we had begun seeing each other. We still were friends, though,” Minerva said.

Albus nodded. “He loved you, though. I could see that. And you were the only person to whom he wrote a letter aside from his family.”

“Yes, he loved me. But . . . he told me that there was someone else for me, that my heart belonged to someone else, and that he could not make me unhappy and himself, as well, by trying to make something between us work. He wanted me to be happy,” Minerva said, her voice breaking and blinking back tears. “Carson was a good lad. He was a good friend to me. And he was the first wizard I was ever with, the first I ever kissed, in fact.”

Albus kissed the top of her head. “He had said something about that in his letter. Hoping you would meet him, the wizard you were meant for. And speaking with his gran about you and who your love would be.”

Minerva sighed. “Yes, he was hopeful that I would meet the wizard I was meant for, but I didn’t believe him when he told me about his gran and all her stories. Then when I met Quin, I learned about the MacAirt gift and that Carson likely had some of it, too.”

“And the third?” Albus asked.

Minerva took in a breath. “The third?”

“Yes, you said three lovers and a few intimate friends . . . if you don’t want to tell me, that is all right. I understand,” Albus said quietly.

Minerva relaxed against him. “It just seems odd to speak of this with you now, that’s all, Albus.”

“I see. It’s all right.” Albus fell silent, his eyes closed.

Minerva shut her eyes. Now he would just wonder more, and it also might seem that she didn’t trust him. She had told him to ask her anything. She should have refused to give details about any of it, just given him a vague but truthful answer, and left it at that. But now that she had begun, how could she not speak further of it? He wasn’t even pressing her for answers, which made her feel worse.

“You remember I said there is someone whom I count as a lover although we weren’t physically very intimate at all, truly not at all. That is the third person,” Minerva said softly. “Just a very good friend, really. I shouldn’t have included him in the count.”

Albus didn’t say anything at first, only nodded. A few heartbeats later, he asked softly, “Quin? Was Quin this friend?”

Minerva nodded. “He was very good to me and for me, Albus. He helped me to believe that a relationship with you might be possible, that my dreams weren’t doomed, that I wasn’t destined for misery and a heart of ice and stone as I had thought,” Minerva answered softly. “And he . . . he cared for me when I thought that all was lost, when I came to him, hurt and hysterical, he took me in without hesitation. And the entire time, Quin tried to understand what had happened and persisted in trying to encourage me that not all was lost. Even before I left for my parents’ house, one of the last things he said to me was not to lose hope in you, in the two of us together. That is why I count him among the other important men in my life, men who were more than just friends to me, if you see what I mean. What he gave me . . . it seems to belittle it somehow to act as though he were just a casual sort of friend.”

“I see.” Albus kissed the top of her head. “I do see, Minerva. And I shouldn’t have asked. I am sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

Minerva shrugged. “I did say you could ask me anything. I didn’t have to answer you, but once I began . . . I didn’t want you to imagine something more, or something different, or worry and wonder . . . . I love you, Albus, and I have never been in love with anyone else, and I have never loved anyone more than I love you, or at all in the same way.”

“I understand, Minerva. I shouldn’t have made you feel ill-at-ease . . . but I was curious about Quin, I must admit truthfully,” Albus said. “I believe he . . . I believe he cares for you far more than he is willing to say.”

“Perhaps. But he is not in love with me. He clearly feels loyal to me, and to you, and I know that we could count on him for anything. That is love, certainly,” Minerva said. “But even were he in love with me, not only would it be of no use, but he knows that, too; he knows it in a way that most people could not. He knows the depth and strength of my love for you, and he is also aware that you love me, as well. But as he told me, he had his Aileen. He does not expect to fall in love again, though I think perhaps he may be open to it, if it should happen.”

“I hope he does, but I do understand that he might not wish to look for someone after having had the love he experienced with Aileen,” Albus said softly. “I would certainly look no further than you if anything were to happen to you, or to our relationship, even if I were to live another hundred years.”

Minerva raised her face and smiled at him. “I am very glad, Albus. That is precisely how I feel about you.”

“You mustn’t, Minerva,” Albus said. “You mustn’t. You are young. It may be that nothing untoward will happen between us. I do believe you love me, and I certainly know that I love you, but I am not young – now, shh, just please listen – you are young and I am far from young. Even if nothing else occurs in the interim, I will die long before you, if our lives follow their natural course. I do not want you to be alone and unhappy for all of those years – which I hope will be many for you.”

“Albus . . .” Minerva sighed. “Why must you bring this up now, today, when we have had such a lovely time? We have barely had any time to enjoy having discovered each other as we have, and you are talking about dying. I am very well aware of your age, and believe me that it causes me no joy to contemplate the prospect of losing you to death. But you aren’t dead yet, nor dying, and there is no reason for us to believe that your death is in any way near. You are perfectly healthy. I don’t believe in blindly ignoring eventualities, but this conversation is premature and not very well-timed.”

“But still . . . it isn’t just death, Minerva,” Albus said. “People change. You . . . there are things that you may want, and things in life which you surely deserve, which I cannot offer you, which you will not have if you remain . . . if we remain together. Do not dismiss so readily the notion that there may come a time when, regardless of your feelings for me, you do not long for something else even more, and that longing makes you unhappy to be with me – ”

“Stop! Just, just stop, Albus!” Minerva looked up at him in complete consternation. “Perhaps nothing will convince you of the depth and integrity of my love for you, that it is whole and unbreakable, and that without it I am but a half a person, perhaps nothing but the passage of time itself will prove to you what I know. But do not speak like this again. I have done all I can to reassure you and there is nothing else that I can think of to say or do that I have not done except to allow the steadiness of my love to prove itself over time. I cannot bear to hear you speak like this!”

“Perhaps you could be just as happy with someone else, though, Minerva – Quin, for example,” Albus said. “I’m not speaking of now, in this moment. And I don’t want you to go . . . but you should think of all that a witch of your age might want from life before you hitch your lot to mine. You could be happy with someone different.”

“I couldn’t be. And what I want from life is being with you. That is what I want. And I don’t want Quin or anyone else, and I don’t want anything that anyone else might theoretically be able to give me. Do you understand, Albus?”

Albus relaxed. “As long as you are sure . . . I felt it was my duty to point it out to you. I don’t want you to go, Minerva. I don’t know what I would do now. I don’t know how I could return to the way my life was before. I don’t believe that I could,” Albus said softly. “But if you wanted to leave . . . I would try to let you go without making it difficult for you.”

“Oh, Albus! If you ever try to let me go, you shall see me hold to you tighter than ever!” Minerva did just that, holding him closer in her embrace.

Albus chuckled. “Yes, you do that, Minerva. Hold me tightly and keep me . . . keep me, please, even when I ask uncomfortable questions and bring up foolish worries on such a beautiful day with you. I love you, and I never conceived of loving anyone as I love you. And I am grateful that you love me.” He kissed her softly.

“Well, if you felt duty-bound to bring up these worries, you have done so, and now you can dismiss them and leave it to me to take care of them. I love you, and that will not change. There is nothing I could want more than to be with you, Albus.” Minerva pulled his head toward her and kissed his lips. “Always, Albus,” she murmured, “always.”

“Always,” he answered her. “Yes, always.”

Minerva settled against Albus again, breathing out a sigh of happiness and relief. Her eyes closed. She was warm and comfortable. Perhaps she might sleep.

“I have another impertinent question for you,” Albus’s voice rumbled against her.

Minerva opened her eyes. No nap. But his tone had sounded different – lighter, not as serious.

“Ask away, then, Albus!” she said.

“With all those lovers and, er, other intimates, did you ever make love en plein air as we did?” Albus asked.

“What? No, no, I never did before. Not exactly, no.”

“What is ‘not exactly’?” he asked with a smile.

“Rudolf borrowed a . . . a chalet, I suppose you might call it, from a friend. It was in the Schwarzwald. There was a room with a roofed balcony. When the doors to the balcony were open, and all the windows, it felt as though one were outdoors, but, um, we never even went out onto the balcony. But there was a lot of fresh air. But it wasn’t at all the same.” Minerva said. “You have, though.” At his surprised expression, she added, “You told me you made love to Dervilia here.”

“Oh. Well . . . yes, of course.”

“And then there was Maria. I imagine that you were not always under a roof when you were with her. And there may have been others,” Minerva said matter-of-factly.

“But this was your first time making love outdoors?” Albus asked, a gleam in his eye.

“Yes. I was hoping to make love to you here. And I wanted to undress for you . . . and bring you pleasure,” Minerva answered.

“You certainly did bring me pleasure . . . and I enjoyed watching you undress for me. And give me your knickers, too, of course!” he said with a chuckle. “And although it wasn’t the first time, of course, it was very special for me, especially since it was your idea.”

Minerva smiled up at him. “I did tell you I would try to exercise my imagination for you, remember!”

“You did, indeed!” He kissed her cheek. “I look forward to seeing where else your imagination might lead us!”

Minerva chuckled at that. “You could exercise your own imagination, too, you know. In fact, you have. This morning was particularly inventive. Although I think that wherever we made love, it would be spectacular. You are unparalleled, you know, Albus.” When he laughed and blushed, Minerva said, “I mean that. I have never experienced it the way I do with you; even at it’s best, it wasn’t like it feels with you. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel good or exaggerating in the slightest.”

“Actually . . . it’s not as though I have very much recent experience, of course, but there is a quality to our love-making that is different from anyone else I was with,” Albus said. He added hesitantly, “And when I . . . um, when make love, it’s . . . it’s difficult to describe what is different about it, but there is something more emotional, somehow. Not that it isn’t naturally emotional . . . but it is different when I am with you. It really is as though you are the witch I was waiting my entire life for.”

“I am glad that you had other witches to love you, though. Except for that awful cow, who shall remain nameless, of course. But she didn’t love you. But I am glad that while you were waiting for me all that time, you weren’t always alone, Albus,” Minerva said.

“I was alone for many, many years, however,” Albus said thoughtfully. “It was partially in reaction to what I had done . . . the way I had tried to escape my problems. I had allowed myself to be used and had used others, and I thought . . . I thought I was enjoying myself, but it never felt good, not really. Maria was the great exception from that period of my life. I don’t know . . . I don’t know as I would ever have been able to think of sex without feeling disgusted with myself if I hadn’t found her – or she, me – so soon after that time in my life.”

“You said it was partially in reaction to that that you stayed alone for so many years. What else was it, do you think?” Minerva asked.

“Partly, too, that I wanted to devote myself to my work. And of the witches I had known when I was younger, most were married, at least of any that I might have had any interest in at all. A few others . . . were not married, but word had spread about my earlier behaviour, and although it had been for a relatively brief time and there had been a few years intervening between that and my return to Britain, it still made it inadvisable for me to spend time with respectable witches whose reputations might be sullied by their association with me. And then, in later years, when all seemed forgotten and no one would have cared about what had happened in previous decades, I had simply become used to my life as it was. It was pleasant, peaceful, productive, and I had my friendships.” Albus shrugged. “By the time I began to consider broadening my social life, so to speak, it was not an easy thing to do, to find someone appropriate, and then I was called to work at Hogwarts; yet even before that, I began to put thoughts of my personal life out of my mind as it became evident what a threat Grindelwald was becoming. So . . . I could not focus on finding a witch to court, let alone think of drawing one into the life I believed I was headed toward. I did not expect to work at Hogwarts, of course, but I did think that I would eventually be called upon to help with the Grindelwald situation. And I believed it possible I would die fighting against him. It wouldn’t have been fair to have become seriously involved with a witch at that point, even if it would not have been a distraction, or even if I had the time to pursue a relationship of that sort. So by the late twenties, I was again resigned to a solitary life, and when I was called upon to do my duty, I was as prepared and unencumbered as I could be.”

“I suppose that was for the best, although I am sorry that you were so alone,” Minerva said.

“I was alone, but rarely lonely, really. I think I only began to feel lonely after I had begun to fall in love with you, oddly enough,” Albus said, kissing her hair. “I had not really wanted for anything in my life until I found myself wanting you, I suppose,” he added with a smile. “Not that I would admit it to myself for a very long time, of course.”

“That is a pity, but I am glad you did, and that you admitted it to me, as well,” Minerva replied. “It was becoming very frustrating, loving you . . . no, not loving you, that wasn’t it. I was very happy that our friendship was growing, but I felt frustrated at not being able to share with you the depth of my feelings for you. And, of course, I was frustrated that I was unable to express my physical affection for you.”

“Yes, I can certainly appreciate that aspect of your frustration, my dear!” Albus said with a playful smile. “But it sounds as though you . . . attempted to deal with it.”

At Minerva’s puzzled look, Albus said, reminding her, “Your fantasy of my taking you behind Greenhouse Three.”

The light dawned, and Minerva smiled. “Oh, yes! That wasn’t the only one, but that was certainly one of the more . . . adventurous fantasies I had.”

“Tell me, Minerva,” Albus whispered. “Tell me your fantasy.”

Minerva blushed. She had said that she wanted them to be able to talk freely about their intimacy. Sharing her fantasy with him would certainly help there.

She nodded and placed her head against him, one hand caressing his beard and chest. “I fantasised that you and I were on a walk in the gardens. It was a beautiful day, and we were alone. I had taken your hand as we walked, and I was becoming stimulated by your presence and your voice. We were behind Greenhouse Three when we heard voices, and we ducked into the alcove so that we would not be seen, so that we could continue to have our privacy. You put a finger to my lips, keeping me from saying anything, then you looked down into my eyes, and you suddenly realised my feelings and you saw that I desired you.” Minerva swallowed.

“Yes? And then what did we do?” Albus asked.

“You caressed my face, my lips, my throat . . . then you kissed me very softly. You didn’t stop with that kiss, though, and your continued kisses became more and more passionate. You pressed against me and my passion grew. I wanted you, but we could hear the people in the garden, walking and talking nearby. You took my hand and held it over my head, and when I tried to pull you closer to me, you took that hand and held it there, too.” Minerva’s breathing quickened as she remembered her fantasy. “You, um, you held my hands there with one of your own as you continued to kiss me, and with the other hand, you began to caress my body, exploring it and stimulating me. You reached into my clothes and touched me, then you pulled my robes away. We could still hear the others in the garden, and yet you opened my robes and touched me freely. And then you pulled my robes completely away from me.” Minerva could feel Albus’s reaction as she spoke and she began to caress him. “You left my hands above my head, and I didn’t move them as you began to caress me and kiss me . . . . you kissed my throat and I moaned, despite the others in the garden, so you held your finger to my lips again. You smiled when I kissed it, and then you made love to me as the others were passing by within earshot.”

As she had been speaking, Albus’s hand had begun to caress her.

“Even though we could hear people in the garden, just around the corner, and they could have found us at any moment, and seen you making love to me, you didn’t care, you kissed me to silence me, and I barely managed to stay quiet. And all the time we heard the others nearby. And you kept making love to me. And we were safe and stayed quiet until they left.”

Albus pushed Minerva back onto the blanket and kissed her mouth. He kissed her and loved her, caressing and touching her.

“Gods, Minerva, I love you, I love you so, Minerva, my love,” he murmured.

Minerva began calling his name, and Albus continued to make love to her, still murmuring words of love and desire.

“Minerva, my love, my sweet love, my sweet delight . . . you are my delight,” he said as he held onto her, kissing her hair and her skin. “You, my love, always. . . .”

[MMADfan]

Posted in three parts!

CLIV: The Spree

Minerva rolled over and stretched. She groped sleepily for her wand, then cast a Tempus. Six o’clock. Far too early. She closed her eyes again and sighed happily, remembering the lovely day she had spent with Albus. It had been long, though, and it was close to eleven before they Apparated to the Hogwarts gates and walked back to the castle. She had not even minded when he had bid her good-night at the gargoyle after she insisted that he go straight to bed.

Realising that she wasn’t going to fall asleep again, Minerva forced herself from bed, shuffled into the bathroom, and started filling the tub, choosing a bright, citrus-scented bath soap, hoping that it would wake her up. She decided on a bath rather than a shower because she was quite achey.

The unaccustomed physical activity may have had her feeling uncomfortably sore, but she couldn’t regret it, Minerva thought with a smile. Albus had certainly shed his reservations. She doubted he had any fear at all any more that she would find him disgusting. That thought, however, did not diminish her anger with Valerianna Yaxley. If it hadn’t been for that dreadful witch, and the for the absurd and cruel words she had uttered which had convinced Albus of his undesirability, Minerva was certain that Albus would have responded to her own gestures differently than he had and that he would have made some tentative overtures to her weeks before. She doubted that he would even have felt compelled to keep his distance from her if he hadn’t believed that he was old and disgusting and that it was wrong of him to consider a romantic relationship with her. No, that woman had done great damage to Albus and to herself. If Valerianna hadn’t wanted him, she should have simply not pursued him . . . but then, that was assuming that the woman had any scruples whatsoever or any care for anyone but herself, and Minerva doubted both.

Minerva lay back in the bath and wondered whether Albus was sore. She supposed he would be sore in different places than she was. She had rarely been sore from too much sexual activity before, although when she was with Rudolf, it had happened occasionally. Since he was a Potions Master and they were living together at the time and he couldn’t help but notice her discomfort, he had always discreetly provided two very nice potions for her, but she didn’t really know what they were. One of them, a pleasant-tasting pink potion, had taken care of the aching muscles, and another, a gently soothing white salve, had taken care of the other soreness; both had completely healed her and not just provided symptomatic relief. Minerva supposed she would just have to settle for an ordinary pain potion, since she couldn’t very well go to either Poppy or Murdoch and tell them specifically what ailed her – especially since Poppy didn’t even have any idea that Minerva was involved with anyone and she was not yet prepared to tell her.

Minerva called Blampa, and when the peppy house-elf arrived, she asked her to bring a pot of tea and a vial of a pain potion.

“You be sick, Professor Minerva?” asked Blampa, her demeanor suddenly serious.

“No, just a little sore, Blampa,” Minerva said.

“You sure, Professor Minerva? I, Blampa, worries,” she answered.

“I am quite certain, Blampa. I just have overdone it a bit recently,” Minerva reassured her.

“Okey-dokey, Professor Minerva. I, Blampa, returns soon!”

Blampa was good as her word, and Minerva was just rinsing shampoo from her hair when the house-elf returned, a pot of tea with a small pitcher of milk on a hovering tray, two vials clutched in her hands.

“Your tea, Professor Minerva!” Blampa said brightly. “Wilspy gives me potions for my Professor. This one you take with your tea,” she said, holding out a small vial of an iridescent blue potion, “and this one for your bathwater.” The second, larger vial that Blampa held up for Minerva’s inspection was a brilliant gold. “Wilspy says stay in bathwater ten more minutes with the potion, and Professor Minerva be’s perfect again, all day long!”

Minerva knew that the Hogwarts Head house-elf, Hwouly, maintained a cabinet stocked with all the most common household potions, but it seemed that Blampa had obtained these from Wilspy rather than from the common stock. She didn’t recognise either potion, but that didn’t really mean very much, she supposed.

“Thank you, Blampa,” Minerva said. “Could you just put that one in the bathwater for me, and I’ll take the other with my tea.”

Blampa dutifully poured the gold potion into the bath water. Minerva couldn’t identify the scent, but it was lovely, and the effect was almost instantaneous. Her superficial soreness and slight swelling disappeared almost immediately, and Minerva almost decided not to take the pretty peacock blue potion, but when she shifted to reach for her tea, she decided that it might be a wise idea, after all.

As Minerva took the potion from Blampa’s outstretched hand, she said, “How have you been, Blampa? Is everything well with you?”

“Ooo, yes, ma’am, Professor Minerva, I, Blampa, be’s very well!”

“Could you keep me company this morning?” Minerva asked. “I don’t know what duties you have today, but I will be going to the Quidditch pitch for a special event this morning, and I must leave my wand in my rooms. I would appreciate both your company and your assistance, if you are available.”

“Oh, yes, Professor Minerva!” the little elf replied, bouncing up and down on her toes. “You goes to Mister Malcolm’s duel with Wilspy’s Professor, yes?”

“That’s right, Blampa,” Minerva said, thinking that word of Hogwarts business must spread amongst the house-elves.

“Oh, I be’s so happy! Happy happy!” Blampa said. “I’s the only house-elf there . . . except Wilspy goes, probably.” Suddenly Blampa stopped bouncing, stopping in mid-bounce on the balls of her feet. “But Professor Minerva,” she said, a sudden worried look on her face, “why you not have your wand with you?”

“It’s complicated, Blampa. The Headmaster requested that I leave it here.”

Blampa’s look of concern didn’t abate. “Headmaster Albus? Wilspy’s Professor asks you?”

“Yes, he did,” Minerva said, puzzled by Blampa’s worried expression.

“You . . . you be’s always a good Professor and a good witch. Why – ” Blampa suddenly stopped and looked as though she were about to choke, her face turning a peculiar shade of lilac.

“Blampa? Blampa? Are you all right?” Minerva sat up, almost getting out of the bathtub.

“Blampa’s a good house-elf, a good Hogwarts house-elf. Blampa not say anything bad about the Hogwarts Headmaster, not ever, no no no!” Blampa said vehemently, and her colour began to return to normal.

“Of course you are a good house-elf. I tell that to anyone – I told Professor Dumbledore that a few days ago, in fact, Blampa. He knows you are a good house-elf,” Minerva reassured her, her own puzzlement growing. She wondered whether additional bindings had been placed on the Hogwarts elves other than the one binding them to the service of the school. She knew that some pureblood families had layers of bindings, some of them ancient ones that were passed, generation to generation, to all the family house-elves. The McGonagall family – and the Parnovon, Egidius, and Tyree families before them – had never placed any of those additional bindings on the house-elves, but only the basic one for reciprocal, though different and somewhat unequal, bonding of care and responsibility. But from Blampa’s physical reaction, Minerva gathered that one of the punitive bondings had been placed on the Hogwarts house-elves.

Minerva, hoping that her phrasing would eliminate any discomfort for Blampa, said, “Blampa, I see that you have some concern. I order you to tell me what that concern is, dear.”

Blampa looked uncomfortable, but didn’t turn purple or choke. “Blampa worries her Professor be’s punished . . . and not done nothing bad. Witches carry wands.”

Minerva let out a sigh of relief. As simple as that! “No, I haven’t done anything wrong and I am not being punished. I am happy to leave my wand in my rooms today. My brother and Albus, as you know, are having a duel. Now, you mustn’t tell anyone this, even other house-elves, Blampa, but if I had my wand with me this morning, my brother would be at a slight disadvantage, for reasons I can’t discuss. But Professor Dumbledore wants to be very fair to Malcolm, so I am leaving my wand in my rooms. It’s just for a short time, that’s all.”

“Oh! I, Blampa, wants Professor Minerva be’s always happy. Good witches carry wands,” Blampa said, as though that explained everything.

“I imagine there are a lot of bad witches carrying wands, too,” Minerva said, “but in this case, I appreciate your concern, and it would be convenient if you could attend the duel with me.”

“Yes, Professor Minerva, I, Blampa, be’s proud to attend with you!” Blampa said with a grin that split her face. “Spruffle can’t say he goes to attend witches’ and wizards’ event.” Blampa looked around as if to check to see if anyone was listening, then she whispered, “Spruffle always be’s saying how important he be’s and how I, Blampa, be’s just a piddly little thing, he calls me. But now you be’s Head of Gryffindor and you bring me to attend an event with you!” Blampa beamed.

“So, Spruffle is one of the house-elves who made fun of you, hmm? Well, you be sure that Spruffle knows that I would never consider attending the, um, event without you, and that I depend on you,” Minerva said, trying not to laugh. She really would have to find out what might make an appropriate gift for a Hogwarts house-elf. That would put Spruffle in his place!

“Spruffle be’s too proud, and he be’s not nice to young house-elves. Always be’s saying mean mean things. Little house-elves cry sometimes. But not I, Blampa! No, now I thinks that my Professor says I can be a good house-elf, and I don’t cry!”

“Well, that’s good. And you are a good house-elf, Blampa. You have some friends, too, don’t you?” Minerva asked, taking another sip of her tea.

“Yes, I, Blampa, has friends.”

“Here, why don’t you sit down. Keep me company while I finish my tea,” Minerva suggested. She smiled when Blampa perched on the edge of the tub. This little elf had come a long way since the beginning of the summer, she thought. “The house-elves you brought with you that time – Polky and Kreffy and . . . I don’t remember the other one’s name,” Minerva said apologetically.

“Polky, Stanga, and Kreffent, Professor. They be’s friends a long time. Polky and Stanga mostly. Kreffent sometimes has bad attitude, our Hwouly says. But I likes him anyway. He be’s bored all the time,” Blampa said, swinging her legs.

“Is he your, um . . . a boyfriend?” Minerva didn’t know very much about house-elf relationships outside of those in her own family.

Blampa giggled, covering her mouth with both hands. “No, Blampa not have boyfriends yet. Kreffent be’s cross too much to be a happy boyfriend.”

Minerva didn’t know whether Polky and Stanga were male or female, not having been able to tell – though she thought that Polky was a male and Stanga a female – so she didn’t ask any questions about them.

“Have you always lived at Hogwarts, Blampa?” Minerva asked curiously.

“Mostly, yes. When I, Blampa, be’s a baby, I lives with my mother and her sister, but then I moves to Hogwarts and be’s with my father and be’s a Hogwarts house-elf,” Blampa explained.

“I see . . .” Minerva didn’t entirely, but she wasn’t sure whether it would be polite to inquire any further. “Do you see your mother and your aunt very often?”

“I, Blampa, sees them three times. Maybe I sees them again someday. But I, Blampa, be’s proud to be a Hogwarts house-elf with my father.”

“Who is your father?” Minerva asked.

“Tchampon. Tchampon sad now. His Professor leaves soon. Tchampon very good with creatures. Loves creatures and beasties and sky and wind and sun. When his Professor leaves, Tchampon not knowing if he works still with beasties and in the wind and sun. He be’s a good house-elf, but he doesn’t like serving inside so much,” Blampa said, almost whispering.

“Would it help if I mentioned this to the Headmaster? I am sure that the new teacher will need a house-elf, and he would probably like to have a house-elf who enjoys working with creatures,” Minerva said.

Blampa hesitated, then said, “Tchampon likes working with beasties and not inside. He be’s the best house-elf when he is with beasties and such.”

“Well, I’ll mention it, then. We’ll see if Hwouly can arrange to have him continue to serve the new teacher. And I will make sure that the new teacher knows that he is good with the creatures so he doesn’t only have him serving him tea,” Minerva said. “Are there things you enjoy doing, Blampa?”

Blampa smiled. “I, Blampa, likes my Professor Minerva happy. So I likes to bring her special things and see her smile.”

Minerva laughed. “Well, I have been told I don’t smile enough, but you can try to fix that, if you like, Blampa. But if there are things you discover you especially enjoy, let me know. If it’s possible for you to do those things more frequently, I’ll be sure that you have the opportunity.” Minerva stretched in the tub. “But I feel much better now, and I am certain that the potions have done their work, so I think it’s time for breakfast. Could you bring me two fried eggs, haggis, toast, and fruit, please. And more tea, of course.”

“Yes, ma’am, Professor Minerva!” Blampa said as she hopped off the edge of the tub. “When we goes to the wizarding event?”

“It’s at nine, so we will leave for the Quidditch pitch a bit before that. If you aren’t here when I’m ready to leave, I will call you,” Minerva promised. She had wanted Blampa with her in case there was something she normally used her wand to do, but she was glad that Blampa seemed to be looking forward to it. Minerva wondered whether Blampa really understood what the “event” was. She probably ought to warn her so that she wasn’t upset by it.

At a little before eight-thirty, having eaten her breakfast and dressed in her grey and tartan robes, and reading the Prophet while waiting to leave for the Quidditch pitch, Minerva was surprised when the Knight lumbered into her landscape, Fidelio at his side. Despite his recent chattiness, the Knight only bowed and Fidelio barked. Minerva remained where she was and opened the door with her wand, very consciously setting it down beside her rather than putting it in her pocket, as was her habit.

When the door opened, Gertrude stepped through. “Good morning, Minerva! I wondered if you would like some company this morning.”

“I am going down to observe in a little while,” Minerva said. “I presume you will be, too?” When Gertie nodded, Minerva said, “Then I would enjoy your company, too. Would you care for a cup of tea? Have you eaten?”

“I had some tea, but . . . I couldn’t eat very much,” the older witch confessed. “I do hope that Malcolm acquits himself well, and that neither of them are hurt.” Gertrude sat down in the chair opposite Minerva. “I know that Albus will be careful with him, but I still worry. Malcolm seems somewhat rash.”

“He does, but he has good control. I don’t believe that he will do anything that Albus can’t counter,” Minerva said, not confessing to her own worries.

“True, but if he does something . . . something very Gryffindor, it could be that the only thing Albus could do to counter it would be a stronger response than Malcolm had anticipated,” Gertrude said. “Or Albus could choose not to counter it, and then be hurt in the process. And there is also the other tests he has set for him where something could go wrong.”

“I think that they both have thought about these things,” Minerva reassured her.

“At least Poppy returned for it,” Gertrude commented.

“She did?”

“Yes. I owled her a few days ago, and she agreed to return early. Both she and Murdoch will be here, in fact. Are your parents coming, do you know?”

“I don’t know, but they didn’t mention it when we discussed it on Wednesday, so I rather doubt it,” Minerva said.

“There will still be quite an audience, I think. I hope that Malcolm does well,” Gertrude said.

“I am sure he will. Albus has no desire to embarrass him in front of his future colleagues. I am not particularly happy with this idea, myself, but I became used to it, I suppose, and I’m not as worried as I had been.”

“Oddly, I didn’t think I was worried about it until I woke up this morning. Now I feel as though a coterie of Cornish pixies has taken up residence in my stomach,” Gertrude said.

“Well, it should be interesting. Think of it as a game, not as a duel,” Minerva advised. “And you’ve been practising with Malcolm. I’m certain that helped him prepare.”

“Perhaps. I think he was humouring me. It was better practise for me than for him, I think,” Gertrude said with a wry smile.

Minerva cast a glance at her clock. “We should leave soon. I just need to call Blampa – she’s coming, too,” Minerva explained as she picked up her tartan cloak, double-checking that her wand was still in its place on the table.

Blampa popped in looking freshly scrubbed and wearing a set of green tea towels with the Hogwarts crest in the corner. Minerva had explained to her that Malcolm was going to be tested and then he and the Headmaster would duel, but that it was a friendly duel, just a kind of game, so she wasn’t to be distressed. Blampa had nodded cheerily, but Minerva wasn’t certain that the house-elf had completely understood what a duel was. Still, she looked pleased enough when she Apparated into the sitting room.

“I suppose it will be rather wearying for you to walk with us, Blampa. If you would prefer to Apparate down to the front hall, we can meet you there,” Minerva said, thinking it might be hard on Blampa’s short legs to walk down seven flights of stairs.

Blampa insisted that she wanted to accompany them. On the walk down the stairs, Minerva couldn’t resist the urge to place her hand on the little house-elf’s shoulder, as she might with a small child. Blampa looked up at Minerva and smiled happily, and Minerva smiled back.

Gertrude looked over at the two and smiled herself. “I am glad to see you appearing so happy, Minerva,” she said softly.

“I am happy, in fact,” Minerva said. “Happier than I thought was possible.”

Gertrude nodded. “I am very glad. More glad than you could know.” An odd expression crossed her face, and she looked away quickly.

“Can you come to tea today?” Minerva asked impulsively. “If you want to. If you haven’t plans with Malcolm.”

“I – ”

“You could bring him, if you like,” Minerva added.

“Don’t you have plans with Albus later?”

“Nothing specific. I assume we will all have lunch together in the Great Hall. And no doubt dinner, as well.” Minerva sighed slightly. The school year was growing closer, and already, their time was not their own.

“He mentioned you would be away until at least Tuesday evening, if not Wednesday morning,” Gertrude said softly, as if reading her mind. “You will have some time then.”

Minerva smiled slightly. “Yes, of course we will. Will you hold the wards while he’s gone?”

Gertrude shook her head. “I think that Johannes will have them most of the time, although he is free to pass them to me, if he needs to leave. Wilhelmina will be here, as well, and although she is no longer a Head of House, I understand that she can still hold the wards in an emergency. And Slughorn will be in and out.”

“Do you think that Professor James minds that his investiture as Head of Hufflepuff will be delayed until Wednesday evening?” Minerva asked. He had originally been scheduled to be installed on Monday, and no doubt had made his plans around that. Minerva felt slightly guilty that her own desire for a holiday with Albus had disrupted others’ schedules.

“No, not at all. I don’t think anyone minds having the start of the year be a bit less structured than usual. Other than Malcolm, who will be here anyway, there are no new staff members who need the additional preparation time. I’ll do what I can to assist Malcolm – as Deputy, of course!” She gave a quick grin.

“Of course!” Minerva responded with a smile. “So . . . tea this afternoon?”

“Yes, provisionally. If there is something that comes up – for either of us – we can have tea when you return. We should, anyway,” Gertrude said.

CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST!

[MMADfan]

CONTINUED FROM THE PREVIOUS POST!

CLIV: The Spree, CONTINUED

Coming down the final flight of steps to the front hall, Minerva was surprised to see the number of people milling about. It seemed that most of the staff had returned for the event, and a few had brought guests, apparently, as there were witches and wizards there whom she didn’t recognise or whom she only knew by sight. Minerva began to turn to say something to Gertrude when the front door opened and, with a gust of wind, Malcolm entered, looking bright-eyed and pink-cheeked, wearing a blousy white shirt with his favourite kilt and sporran, a plaid cast over one shoulder and held in place with a decorative pin in the shape of a raven with a snake coiled about its legs. The snake was looking out and the raven’s mouth was open as it bent its head toward the snake. It was a peculiar emblem, but no more than the one on his stationery, Minerva supposed.

Malcolm caught sight of them and waved, bounding toward them, and the small crowd parted to make way for him. Minerva smiled. Her brother was a fine sight, and a feeling of pride in him surged through her. As eccentric as he was, Malcolm was strong, truthful, generous-spirited, and he exuded both magical and physical energy.

“Little sister!” His eyes sparkled as he gripped her arm in a friendly fashion. He turned a grin on Gertrude. “And Professor Gamp of Hogwarts! Wonderful to see you both! Now, where is my worthy opponent, or whatever one might call him? Partner-in-mischief, perhaps!”

“He said we are to meet him out in front of the castle,” Gertrude said.

“Right! Then back out, I suppose!” Malcolm said energetically, turning and striding toward the front doors again. In a show for the assemblage, he opened it with a casual wave of his hand, and Minerva choked back a chuckle.

“Perhaps I should have worn my matching plaid,” Minerva said to Gertrude, moving to place Blampa between them so she wouldn’t get trampled on by the larger people moving around them. “I chose this tartan this morning not thinking about it very much. But I suppose it might be better not to appear to be taking sides. Not that I am able to,” Minerva added. “I just want both to come out of this with no real injuries and Malcolm with his pride intact.”

Gertrude nodded in agreement. She had put her hand on Blampa’s other shoulder. Now that they had gone out to the front steps, Minerva saw that there were another dozen spectators outside. Malcolm hadn’t waited for them, but was standing out in front of the crowd, apparently oblivious to it, and talking to Johannes, who was smiling cheerfully.

Just as Gertrude was about to say something in reply, they were both distracted by Hagrid’s arrival with a few more guests, including one whom Minerva recognised, clad in the same six-colour tartan as Malcolm. The straight-backed witch marched directly up to Malcolm. Johannes stopped speaking in mid-sentence, and Malcolm immediately turned and pecked the witch’s cheek.

The witch seemed to brush off Malcolm’s gesture, but her eyes were smiling as she looked up at him, one hand firmly grasping each of the younger wizard’s elbows.

“So, you will do us all proud today, lad?”

“Aye, Grandmother, that I will,” Malcolm replied. There was no “trying” with Grandmother Siofre. One either did or one didn’t. It was expected that a Tyree or a McGonagall would always put forth a full effort.

“Now, where is the granddaughter?” Siofre asked, turning to look at the group of people who had returned to their milling about.

“Here I am, Grandmother,” Minerva said from her other side.

Siofre looked up at Minerva and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Malcolm tells me that you are not turned stodgy yet, Minerva!”

Minerva smiled in return. “I should hope not!”

“Yes, well, you always were an old one, child,” Siofre said, addressing her remark to Minerva, but glancing over at Gertrude and then down at Blampa, who still stood between the two witches and who had taken hold of Minerva’s skirts.

“Grandmother, I would like you to meet a colleague and friend, Professor Gertrude Gamp, and this is Blampa,” Minerva said, gesturing toward the nervous house-elf. “Gertrude, I would like to present my grandmother, Siofre Tyree.”

Gertrude nodded respectfully. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Madam Tyree.”

“Hmm, yes, you were at my great-granddaughter’s wedding, weren’t you?” Siofre responded. “No time for pleasantries. Must speak with the grandson.” She nodded briskly. “I will see you later, no doubt, Minerva.”

With that, Siofre turned back to Malcolm. Hagrid was just holding out Malcolm’s broom to him.

“Yeh’ll be needin’ this, maybe,” Hagrid said.

“Could you hold onto it for me just a bit longer, Hagrid?” Malcolm barely got the words out of his mouth when his diminutive grandmother had him by the elbow and was steering him away from the crowd.

“It’s nine o’clock,” Minerva said as she watched her grandmother speaking with Malcolm. The older witch was gesturing with both hands, appearing to simultaneously tug and push at some imaginary object in front of her. “Albus is late.”

Gertrude looked up. “No, on time.”

Minerva raised her eyes in the direction that Gertrude was looking. It was a sight Minerva had never before encountered: Albus Dumbledore on a broom. Quin had mentioned that Albus had once played Chaser in a pick-up Quidditch game, but in all the years that Minerva had known him, she had never seen him on a broom. But considering that he was such a strong Apparater and his Animagus form was a phoenix, it seemed hardly a mode of conveyance that he would normally choose.

Albus apparently had taken off from one of his tower windows. With no flourish, but still lightly and gracefully, Albus glided down and landed beside Malcolm and Siofre. Albus looked handsome in robes of deep gold with burgundy trim, the collar of the longer dark red under-robe peeking out, and its hem visible at his ankles.

Minerva hadn’t been able to hear much of what Siofre had been saying to Malcolm, other than a few random words, such as “two-handed” and “small surprise,” but now she heard her grandmother greet the Headmaster.

“Albus, good morning! You are the wizard who is making my grandson a respectable working wizard, then,” Siofre said, a glint of humour in her eyes. She had always been proud of Malcolm and had not completely shared Egeria’s concerns about his peripatetic ways, but she enjoyed teasing as much as her son did – although it was occasionally difficult to distinguish her teasing, and she had upset more than one sensitive Parnovon with an ill-received jibe.

Albus bent and gave the witch a light kiss on her cheek. “We shall see, Siofre,” he said with a smile. “We have to see if he lives up to his advertising, after all!”

It was peculiar for Minerva to see Albus interacting with her Grandmother Siofre. She had always known that the two had been at Hogwarts at the same time, her grandmother just a few years behind him, and Albus had mentioned to her that when he had gone to see Siofre after Collum died, she had sent him off with a flea in his ear, more or less, but he hadn’t held it against her.

“Time was, I wasn’t sure of your own respectability, Albus, and now I’m trusting my grandson to you to make him a more upstanding wizard,” Siofre said, her eyes sparkling.

Minerva could feel Gertrude shift beside her, seeming to tense up. She could imagine that Gertrude wasn’t entirely aware that Siofre was teasing, or was, but still found it offensive. Whether she was offended on behalf of Albus or Malcolm, though, Minerva was unsure. She herself found the remarks in somewhat questionable taste, but Albus only laughed good-naturedly and Malcolm was grinning.

“So, ready for our spree, then, Albus?” Malcolm said. Minerva could almost feel her brother’s excitement, like the quivering of a dog on the scent of something wonderfully exciting.

“Ah, not yet, my b– , er, Malcolm,” Albus said, catching himself. “First, we will have a bit of a display from you, if that is agreeable.”

“Ah, this wizard wants me to be tired out before we even begin, Grandmother,” Malcolm said with a laugh.

“You may be in no condition after our ‘spree’ to do anything else,” Albus said with a playful smile, “so I thought it most fair to do this first. We can have a tea break before we begin.”

“So I’ll have to take a pee in the middle of it?” Malcolm asked.

Siofre laughed, but slapped his arm. “Speak better to your elders and in mixed company, laddie!”

“Aye, ma’am, sorry,” Malcolm said, but he didn’t look at all apologetic.

“First, I will make the announcement to our assembled guests,” Albus said, seeming only then to take notice of the group behind him. He turned and smiled brightly at Minerva, then he looked at the group. Raising his voice, he said, “The first event on our schedule will take place from here. If you would all like to make yourselves comfortable, I will explain the first display of our candidate’s talents.”

Witches and wizards conjured chairs and stools of various descriptions and settled down. Minerva and Gertrude simply moved to one side but didn’t sit.

“Johannes? Professor Birnbaum?” Albus looked around.

At Siofre Tyree’s arrival, Johannes had retreated to the back of the crowd, but now he stepped forward.

“I am here, Professor!”

“Good, my boy! May I speak with you briefly?”

The two wizards conferred, and Minerva saw Albus make a slight gesture. Johannes smiled and nodded, then stepped back to stand beside Gertrude and Minerva.

“He passed me the wards,” Johannes explained in a whisper as Albus now spoke in a low voice with Malcolm.

Malcolm turned, waved, and caught Hagrid’s eye. “My broom, Hagrid.”

Albus turned back to the group. “Malcolm is first going to display Apparition-by-Broom. In order to verify the Disapparition and the corresponding Apparition, I shall proceed to the Apparition point and Professor Filius Flitwick will observe from his position at the gates. You may watch from here, or, if you like, you may walk down toward the gates.”

Siofre stepped forward and spoke softly to Albus. Albus’s face twitched as if he were restraining a smile, but he nodded, and Siofre walked away quickly down toward the gates. Albus turned back to Malcolm, said a few words, then he mounted his own broom.

Albus flew down to the gates, landed, and spoke with Filius, whose small form Minerva could now see. There was a soft sound of Disapparition and Albus vanished, apparently Apparating to wherever Malcolm was due to arrive.

Malcolm walked over to Gertrude and Minerva. “I’m going to wait for Grandmother Siofre. She insisted on witnessing from the other end, so I can’t leave until she has Disapparated. She turned down Albus’s offer of a ride,” he said with a small grin. Siofre was just reaching the gates at that moment, and he climbed onto his broom and rose a few feet above their heads.

“Wait, Malcolm – where are you going?” Minerva asked, worried about her brother Splinching in some odd location.

Malcolm’s grin grew. “Why, off to home, of course! I could Apparate there in my sleep, after all!”

Malcolm waved cheerfully at the crowd of onlookers, some of whom had began to wander toward the gates. The murmuring that had begun when Albus had announced that Malcolm was going to demonstrate Apparition-by-Broom, now died down to a hush as everyone watched Malcolm rise lazily into the air, seemingly lifted straight up as if by a string.

“He is always the show-off,” Minerva muttered. Although it looked simple, most people couldn’t rise straight up on a broom without some forward motion as well. At least he wasn’t doing the hair-raising manoeuvres she had seen him performing a few days earlier. Minerva hoped he actually could achieve what he had claimed.

Gertrude pulled a pair of Omnioculars from her pocket, and Minerva wished she had thought of such a thing.

At a relatively low altitude of about fifty feet, probably to make it easier for the observers to see him, Malcolm flew toward the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, away from the Antiapparition wards. He picked up speed as he approached the border, and seconds after passing over the walls, there was a thundering crack, and Malcolm vanished entirely. The crowd was completely silent for a moment, then a few of the younger wizards began to cheer and others joined in. Minerva and Gertrude, though, waited nervously for his return.

Minutes ticked by and the guests began to grow restless. Minerva turned to Gertrude.

“What do you suppose is taking so long?” she asked, trying to keep her concern from her voice.

Gertrude shook her head. “I suppose they are talking. It hasn’t been very long. He didn’t Splinch. I watched carefully.”

“What if he didn’t arrive in the right place?” Minerva asked. She hadn’t heard of such a thing before – one either Disapparated successfully or didn’t – but Apparition-by-Broom might be something quite different, since one was in motion when Disapparating. One of the first rules she had learned when she took her Apparition lessons – other than the three D’s – was that one had to be standing stock-still in order to Disapparate, and that Splinching was a great danger otherwise.

Gertrude was mulling her response to that question when the sharp sound of Apparition came from the gate area. From the person’s height, Minerva assumed it was her grandmother. She paused to speak with Flitwick, then started walking up toward the castle. Minerva wanted to meet her halfway, but restrained herself. Siofre didn’t appear concerned, and it had been less than five minutes since Malcolm had Disapparated, though it felt much longer.

Siofre paused in front of the crowd, which went silent. The witch did not raise her voice at all, but her words were clear, a richly rolling burr embellishing them.

“Professor Dumbledore will make an official announcement when he returns, but I witnessed Malcolm’s safe arrival at the Apparition point. They are conferring about the next stage of events at the moment.” Siofre turned and strode over to where Minerva and Gertrude stood with Johannes. Blampa was almost hidden behind Minerva’s skirts.

“He did well, but ’twas only the one small task,” Siofre said with a nod.

Minerva was about to ask whether either of the other witches knew what the next task would be, but there were two almost simultaneous cracks from an area beyond the gates, and both wizards, mounted on their brooms, appeared, speeding towards the Hogwarts grounds.

Gertrude shook her head. “Your brother is not the only one to show off this morning, I see. I wonder if Albus ever even did that before today.”

“I never even saw him on a broom before,” Minerva said, her brow furrowed. “That seems terribly foolhardy.”

“He’s a Gryffindor – surely you can understand a fellow Gryffindor,” Gertrude said to Minerva.

“Hmmph,” Siofre said. “He was always a bit brash as a boy. They never really do grow up, do they?”

Johannes laughed as the three witches all agreed that every wizard still had a little boy in him. Siofre looked up at the tall, sandy-haired wizard.

“Don’t know you. You’re foreign, aren’t you?” The words were blunt, but her tone friendly.

“I am from Germany, ma’am,” Johannes said in his friendly manner. “Johannes Birnbaum, at your service.”

“Ah, the Herbology wizard. Ravenclaw Head of House, aren’t you? Heard good things about you. Siofre Tyree, Ravenclaw myself,” she said, holding out her hand, which Johannes took and bent over in a formal bow.

As Johannes straightened, Minerva apologised. “I am sorry, Grandmother. I hadn’t realised that you two hadn’t met.”

Siofre waved off the apology as everyone’s attention turned to the two wizards who had landed several yards away and who were now walking around toward the back of the castle. Hagrid’s voice rang out above the renewed chatter.

“Everybody to th’ Quidditch stadium! All onlookers t’ stadium now!”

CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST!

[MMADfan]

CONTINUED FROM THE PREVIOUS POST!

CLIV: The Spree, CONTINUED

As the crowd began to flow in the direction that Albus and Malcolm had taken, Johannes said that he would wait for Professor Flitwick to catch up with everyone.

“I have a spot reserved for us,” Gertrude said. “We should have a good view.”

“I wish I had thought to bring binoculars or Omnioculars,” Minerva said with a sigh. She felt a tugging on her skirts.

“Blampa can fetch Ominiominionoculars for Professor Minerva,” the little house-elf squeaked shyly.

Minerva smiled. “All right. Thank you, Blampa. If you can’t find any Omnioculars quickly, though, just return to me. They aren’t crucial.”

Blampa nodded and Disapparated with a clearly audible pop as the three witches began to walk toward the Quidditch stadium.

“Do you know what is up next?” Minerva asked Gertrude.

Gertrude nodded. The older witch suddenly seemed to go pale.

“Are you going to tell us, lass?” Siofre asked.

Gertrude looked across at the white-haired witch. “Have you read Malcolm’s letter of application?”

Siofre barked a laugh. “I certainly did.”

“He mentioned certain creatures. Albus took him at his word,” Gertrude responded. “I believe him, as well,” she added hastily, “but acting in an emergency is one thing, this, however . . .”

“Not a Nundu?!” Minerva asked in alarm. They would have a stadium full of dead witches and wizards, in that case.

“No, no, of course not,” Gertrude said with a shake of her head.

“A . . . a Boggart?” Minerva asked tentatively. They could be disturbing, she supposed, if one was unprepared.

“A dragon,” Siofre said in a flat voice.

“Yes, a dragon,” Gertrude responded.

“What?” Minerva was astounded.

“Malcolm said he could ride a dragon,” Siofre said. “I have no doubt that he has, but as you say, Professor, doing so in an emergency is something quite different.”

Minerva felt a momentary surge of anger at Albus. He had assured her that Malcolm would be in no danger. But she had been worried about the duel. She had assumed that Albus would have a few tricky but not-particularly-dangerous tasks to test his other skills. Pixies, perhaps, or a stinky, bad-tempered buggane. It never occurred to her that Albus would procure a dragon.

“Whatever was Albus thinking?” Minerva asked.

“I don’t know as Albus necessarily expects Malcolm to ride it,” Gertrude said. “I wasn’t even aware that he had this planned until yesterday evening when Wilhelmina arrived with it and informed me that it was on the grounds. And Malcolm . . . perhaps I ought to have told him, but he had gone home to his flat already.”

“Lovely. Just . . . lovely. Have they other handlers, or is it only Wilhelmina?” Minerva asked. She should have noticed that Wilhelmina was nowhere to be seen.

“There’s another wizard from the preserve, and Kettleburn is with them, as well. Wilhelmina says it’s just a small Welsh Green, but they are very territorial, and the dragon’s not pleased to have been suddenly uprooted from its home,” Gertrude said as they entered the Quidditch stadium. Minerva noticed a large white marquee set up at one end of the pitch, presumably the dragon’s temporary shelter.

“Never fear, hen!” Siofre said, touching her granddaughter’s elbow lightly. “I am sure Albus has it all under control. And Malcolm has more talent than you give him credit for. The lad might be a wee bit headstrong, but he’s no fool.”

The two witches followed Gertrude as she led them up to the box where the scorekeeper and announcer usually sat during Quidditch games. As they arranged themselves and Minerva pulled her cloak closer about her, less from chilliness than from a sense of unease, Blampa reappeared with an ear-splitting pop.

Blampa held up a set of matte black Omnioculars. “Blampa gets Professor Minerva ominiominionoculars.”

“Thank you, Blampa,” Minerva said, accepting the Charmed binoculars. “Come, sit here. We saved you a seat.” She patted the space between her and Gertrude.

Blampa looked down and shook her head. “Blampa stands. Blampa happy house-elf.”

“Blampa, if you would prefer to stand, that is fine, but I would like it if you sat next to me. I asked you to come to help keep me company, after all,” Minerva said, somewhat bothered by the return of the cringing house-elf.

Blampa looked shyly over at the petite-but-imposing figure of Siofre Tyree, who was fiddling with her own small Omnioculars, more like opera glasses than the large set of Charmed field glasses that Minerva held. The white-haired witch noticed the house-elf looking at her.

“If my granddaughter wishes to have you sit beside her, I have nothing to say against it, child,” Siofre said, speaking more gently than she had all morning, then returning to her adjustments to her Omnioculars.

Blampa hopped up on the seat and sat quietly between the two teachers, taking hold of Minerva’s robes again. Albus, Filius, and Johannes joined them a few moments later.

The crowd grew quiet as Hagrid stepped out into the stadium.

“We ask yer cooperation. For this task, yer quiet is requested.” Hagrid looked around as if checking to be sure everyone had heard him. “Thank you.”

Hagrid disappeared back under the stands, and a moment later, the hush was momentarily broken with an excited whispering as the large white tent disappeared to reveal a Welsh Green Dragon. Whatever Wilhelmina may have said about it being a small dragon, it certainly seemed large to Minerva, at least fifteen feet long, perhaps a bit more. Minerva couldn’t see Wilhelmina or Kettleburn, or anyone else, down with the dragon, but she assumed they were close at hand. Dragons couldn’t be tamed, but they could be handled, and Minerva hoped that the handlers were nearby in case Malcolm had trouble.

The Welsh Green had been loosely staked by only one leg. Minerva presumed that the dragon could break free quite easily, and she regretted not having her wand at hand – not that she had any notion what kind of spell could stop a rampaging dragon.

The dragon was looking around, seeming to judge the crowd of people. Gertrude leaned toward Minerva.

“It can’t see us,” she whispered. “Wilhelmina explained that they put a charm on the stands. It thinks it is in a large, roofless paddock. And it was well-fed this morning.”

Minerva turned to her grandmother and repeated that bit of information, and she could feel Siofre relax her grip on the wand in the pocket of her tartan robes.

As the nervous crowd looked on, only occasional whispers passing among them, Malcolm walked out onto the pitch – barefoot and his wand held loosely in his right hand. Every book Minerva had read had said to approach a dragon from the rear, but Malcolm walked toward it head on, slowly but steadily, until he stopped about thirty feet from her. The dragon opened its mouth and seemed to sniff the air, then it rose up from its crouch, a rumble beginning somewhere deep in its throat. In the hush, Malcolm’s voice rang clearly in the stadium, though he spoke softly.

“Hullo, young lassie.” He cocked his head. “Don’t think you’ll be needing that, now.” Malcolm waved his left hand and the chain and shackle vanished.

The confused dragon shook her leg. Her tail switched back and forth. She lowered her head and another grumble emerged from her partially open mouth.

“You aren’t going to like this much better, but I will beg your pardon in advance,” Malcolm said as he began to walk again, this time describing an arc, moving around to her side.

This seemed to confuse the dragon, and she turned with him, this time her mouth opened wider, and she let out a harsh roar. Malcolm didn’t twitch a hair, but continued walking in a circle around her as she turned with him. Minerva became even more alarmed when the dragon unfurled her wings, but through her Omnioculars, she could see Malcolm’s lips turn up and his eyes smile.

“Ready for a bit of exercise? So am I!” Malcolm had gradually come closer to the dragon as he had circled her and she turned with him.

Very suddenly, Malcolm took several long, swift strides, then he bent and leapt, seeming almost to fly through the air. One of his bare feet briefly touched the dragon’s bent foreleg, and then, impossibly, he was astride her long neck, his legs holding tightly, his left hand gripping the scaly, loose folds of flesh near her head. He quickly shoved his wand into a Charmed loop on one side of his sporran, then grabbed on with his other hand.

The dragon had gone from confused to annoyed to enraged very quickly. She threw her head back, but Malcolm stayed well-mounted, and Minerva saw him grin with glee. Rearing up, the dragon tried to dislodge her unwanted companion, but Malcolm simply held on and laughed. She raised her foreleg and batted, but was unable to reach him. The angry beast spat fire then, and did a peculiar skip across the pitch, which would have been amusing if the onlookers weren’t all rivetted in varying degrees of awe and fear.

Minerva glanced over at Albus. He appeared the picture of calm, but Minerva could see that he was paler than usual, and his wand was in his hand. She wondered if he were regretting this as one of his harebrained ideas, but she turned her attention back to the pitch just in time to see the dragon drop to the ground.

“Oh, my gods, it’s going to roll!” someone cried.

Indeed, it appeared that was what the lumbering beast was about to do, and she began to turn onto her side, but then Malcolm leaned forward and bit her ear. This caused her to forget her roll, but now she shook her head violently, and for a moment, Minerva feared that Malcolm would be tossed off, instead, the dragon suddenly stood and stretched, almost like a cat. Minerva heard Gertrude and a number of others in the audience gasp at that, alarmed, but Malcolm laughed again. Apparently that stretch indicated the creature was about to take wing, for the dragon breathed out one more fiery blast then leapt into the air, her wings flapping steadily, creating a perceptible breeze in the stadium.

It seemed that all at once, everyone stood, craning their necks as they watched the dragon climb higher and higher, the wizard on her back lying flat now against his peculiar mount. Minerva could see three figures on brooms – Wilhelmina, Kettleburn, and the other dragon-handler, presumably. She didn’t know what kind of control, if any, Malcolm had over the dragon’s flight, but the dragon seemed happier now that she was in the air, and she circled and swooped, seemingly unconcerned about ridding herself of her passenger. Minerva followed them through her Omnioculars, and she could see that Malcolm was speaking to the beast and seemed to be scratching her neck and behind her ears with his left hand as he still held tight with his right.

Minerva couldn’t imagine how this could end. She had no real familiarity with dragons, but she believed that the spells that dragon-handlers normally used to herd the beasts would likely not be safe to use with a wizard riding her. She looked over at Albus. He looked no more nervous than he had, Minerva thought, and he had sat back down and placed his own Omnioculars in his lap, presumably so that he could see all four flyers at once.

There was a sudden flash of fire, and at first, Minerva thought that the dragon had spewed flames again, but it was Fawkes, and as the two wizards and Wilhelmina rode in formation behind and to the sides of the dragon, trying to control the dragon’s path – but without very much success – the phoenix flew down close to the dragon’s head. Minerva raised her Omnioculars again just in time to see Malcolm turn toward the phoenix and laugh. Fawkes worried the dragon first from one side then the other, occasionally disappearing then reappearing above or to the other side of the dragon. It seemed to Minerva that the phoenix was also trying to get Malcolm’s attention, but Malcolm persisted in holding on to the dragon, and it seemed to Minerva that her brother was going to ride the dragon until she decided to land.

Finally, Malcolm patted the side of the dragon’s neck, reached out grabbed hold of Fawkes’s tail feathers and let go of the dragon. Fawkes flew down to the Quidditch pitch, deposited his passenger, trilled briefly, then disappeared in a flash of flame.

Malcolm tottered a bit as he regained his footing, then he looked over at Gertrude and waved, grinning. The crowd broke into a roar of applause and cheers. With no false modesty, Malcolm waved at everyone and trotted off the pitch.

Albus stood and waited for the spectators to calm down, then he announced, “There will be tea and biscuits served on the lawn in ten minutes. We will reconvene in one hour. I ask that everyone leave the stadium to allow the dragon-handlers to do their work.”

Minerva was torn between her desire to stop Albus and ask him what he had been thinking and her desire to find her brother. The latter desire won out, and she followed Gertrude down out of the stands, little Blampa still holding her skirts. Siofre came with them, and they found Malcolm in the Gryffindor changing room, pulling on his dragonhide boots. He looked up and smiled when he saw them.

“Are you all right?” Gertrude asked immediately, sitting down beside him and pushing aside a curly lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead.

Siofre observed this gesture and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Aye, I am fine, Trudie,” Malcolm said with a soft smile. “It was fun.”

“But what a thing for Albus to have had you do!” Minerva cried. “You could have been hurt – any of the spectators could have been, in fact!”

“Oh, he gave me the option. This or something else. But it’s a rare opportunity, so I jumped at it,” Malcolm said with a grin.

“Well, laddie, you have done well, but you still have the rest of the morning ahead of you,” Siofre said. “Time for us all to get some tea. And you should have something better than biscuits.” She looked down at Blampa, who was hiding shyly behind Minerva. “You, there – Blampa, is it? Could you fetch some sandwiches for the grandson here?”

Blampa nodded eagerly, and looked up at Minerva for her permission.

“That’s a good idea, Blampa. Fetch some sandwiches and rejoin us on the lawn,” Minerva said.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting together under a large umbrella unwrapping the sandwiches Blampa had just brought them. Minerva wasn’t at all hungry, but she took one anyway. Albus was heading toward them, stopping briefly to speak with a few of the other teachers at another table. When he reached them, he smiled down genially.

“Ah, sandwiches! An excellent idea. Do you mind if I join you?” Albus asked.

“Not at all, boss,” Malcolm said with a cheeky grin, then, before Albus could do it, Malcolm had conjured him a pouffy armchair, covered in a gaudy print with animated pink flamingos peeking out from behind bright tropical flowers.

Albus laughed. “Is this an attempt to persuade me to cancel the rest of the morning? If so, my – er, Malcolm, you have very nearly succeeded,” he said, sitting down in the chair and reaching for a sandwich.

“That would disappoint me greatly, boss. And what I said before, the other day? Never mind that. I’ll get used to it if you get used to my calling you ‘boss’!” Malcolm said with a wink.

“We shall see, my boy!”

“Albus . . . that was quite a surprise,” Minerva said, changing the subject.

“I do enjoy surprising people, as you know, my dear,” Albus said as he poured himself a cup of tea.

“This was not one of your more pleasant surprises, I have to say,” Minerva replied sternly.

“Your brother coped very well,” Albus said. “And the handlers were there. There was no real danger, my dear.”

“When there is a dragon involved, Albus, there is always danger,” Gertrude said, sounding no less stern than Minerva had.

“Sufficient unto the day, sufficient unto the day,” Siofre quoted admonishingly. “And now Malcolm has to face the rest of the morning. There is little point in saying anything more on that matter.” She looked over at her oldest grandchild. “You did very well, however.”

Forty-five minutes later, everyone was back in the stadium watching as Malcolm removed a curse from a box and opened it. It was rather dull, as he was completely successful and nothing happened when he removed the lid from the box; he only pulled a plush stuffed dragon from its depths. Interest piqued again, however, when Albus walked out onto the pitch with Flitwick. After Flitwick had conferred briefly with both wizards, he left the field and climbed up to the box where Minerva and Gertrude sat.

The new Charms teacher pointed his wand at his throat and announced, “The duel will proceed under modified sporting rules. It will last twenty minutes or until one or the other of the players is unable to continue. Gentlemen, whenever you are ready, you may begin.”

After removing the Sonorus Charm, Flitwick drew a quill and some parchment from his pocket. It was evidently some kind of automagical quill like the one he had used to record the committee meetings, and he began muttering under his breath, watching the quill. Apparently satisfied that it was functioning correctly, he nodded and fell silent, waiting.

Albus and Malcolm were facing one another, just chatting, it seemed, then they turned and casually walked apart. They both stopped at about the same time and turned back. Malcolm smiled briefly and nodded, drawing his wand, then Albus raised his. At Albus’s nod, Malcolm let off a quick spell, which Minerva thought was a Stinging Hex, but they were both casting nonverbally, so she couldn’t be certain. Albus deflected it easily and quickly cast a Stunner followed by a Confundus, forcing Malcolm to deflect two very different spells rapidly without being able to get off a spell of his own.

Albus was just about to cast another minor hex as Malcolm was countering the Confundus, when Malcolm cast wandlessly with his left hand, only slightly after he had deflected the hex with the spell cast from his wand. Albus looked slightly surprised, but not displeased, and cast another spell. Minerva could feel his magic rippling this time, so whatever he had cast, he had done so with greater force than he had the previous spells, but Malcolm slashed his wand through the air and his spell met Albus’s midway, creating a colourful explosion, much as he had done with Minerva’s spell when they had practised. Unlike Minerva, however, Albus was undistracted by the display of pyrotechnics, and simply deflected the next spell that Malcolm cast.

The two wizards began to cast more rapidly, too rapidly for most onlookers to be able to determine what spells were cast, but they still occasionally blazed, glowed, or exploded, providing some entertainment. Minerva couldn’t imagine how the two could continue to cast so rapidly and not seem fatigued. Malcolm had begun to move about as he cast, trying to tire the older wizard physically, perhaps, but Albus allowed him move and stayed in one spot himself, merely turning to follow his opponent. One of Albus’s spells reached Malcolm as he was too slow in casting a defensive spell, and although he leapt out of the way, it hit his right shoulder. Minerva couldn’t tell whether it had hurt or not, but Malcolm responded by slashing with his left hand as he thrust with his wand in his right hand; a wind came up, and conjured orange dust swirled around Albus, who banished it easily. Malcolm took that moment to cast a blasting charm at Albus, who had time only to throw up a very general shield, and the charm caused a boom when it hit the shield and the reverberations seemed to rock Albus. Just as Albus was regaining his feet and was about to cast another spell, Malcolm thrust his left fist into the air and the stadium was suddenly filled with the sound of a hundred bagpipes wailing and dozens of drums beating, and the spectators all covered their ears.

Albus was momentarily startled by the sudden, intense martial music, and Malcolm took the opening to cast two-handed again, slapping his left palm downward while flicking up very quickly with his wand. The turf rose up and rippled out toward Albus, like a giant carpet being shaken out. It lifted Albus up off of his feet, and he landed on his back, hard. As Albus rolled over and pushed himself back up, Malcolm cast again, rather appalling Minerva and her sense of fair play, but this spell was again not cast on Albus himself, but on the pitch, and there was a sudden thick field of sunflowers surrounding Albus.

Minerva could just make out Albus’s gray head as he stood, then the music stopped, the field of flowers vanished, and Albus smiled at Malcolm, who was now breathing hard. Malcolm raised his wand to cast, but his spell was easily side-stepped by Albus, who cast an offensive spell at Malcolm. Minerva giggled. Malcolm had not been able to move out of the way, and his shield spell had been completely ineffective, the purple-rayed spell just passing right through it. Malcolm was now completely covered in long auburn fur, so much fur that he couldn’t see. Albus cast another spell, but Malcolm managed to twist out of the way, despite his momentary blindness, and that one didn’t strike. Minerva recognised it as another Transfiguration spell, one that she had developed during the last months of the war but that had never been used, due to its difficulty. She was a little disappointed. She would have enjoyed seeing Malcolm with dolphin flippers and long auburn fur.

Malcolm managed to rid himself of the fur, all the while dancing about trying, by feel only, to avoid Albus’s lazily cast hexes. Now that Malcolm was unencumbered, the two wizards cast furiously fast again, Malcolm seeming to be running entirely on adrenalin and Albus looking no more huffed than if he had climbed a few flights of stairs, which was not at all. Still, Malcolm more than held his own, and one of his slicing hexes made it through and opened a long but shallow cut on Albus’s forehead. Minerva was impressed. Despite the obvious frenzy with which Malcolm was casting, he had sufficient control to keep from creating a bigger wound, and she remembered her own spell, which had been meant simply to raise a slight welt but which had done much worse.

Albus wiped the dripping blood from his eyes with the sleeve of his golden robe, and cast a blaster, aiming at Malcolm’s feet. It almost toppled him, but though there was now a large crater in the pitch, Malcolm had merely leapt backwards and landed steady on his feet, casting a fireball hex as he came down. Oddly, Albus laughed as the ball of fire approached him, growing as it flew. Malcolm’s eyes widened when he realised that Albus was neither stepping aside nor countering it, and he raised his wand to try to stop it himself, but too late, and the ball of fire hit Albus mid-chest, exploding on contact. Malcolm ran towards Albus, but the older wizard was engulfed in flame and vanished in a bright flash. Malcolm stood stock-still for a moment, his face completely drained of colour, then he sank to his knees as the rest of the spectators rose to their feet in horror. It happened so quickly that Minerva had barely comprehended it before relief swept over her.

Malcolm put a hand on the singed turf, blinking at it in dismay, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. A confused expression crossed his face as he turned his head. He just had time to see Albus smiling down at him, the sun a halo shining behind his head, when the older wizard flicked two fingers, and Malcolm tilted to one side, slowly crumpling to the scorched grass, Stunned.

---

Note: I am happy to see that folk have enjoyed the recent lemony chapters. There was no lemon in this chapter, but there will be more before the end, I promise! ;D

RL has been a bit like Valerianna Yaxley, if you know what I mean, hence the extra few days before the chapter was up. I can't predict when the next one will appear, but rest assured, one will in due course!

[esoterica1693]

What a great chapter, even if free of citrus. Great bit about the soreness and the potions. Would have loved to seen Wilspy's face when Blampa told her her Professor was sore! And Siofre's appearance--good to see more of her.

Of course the duel was great--and the end heart-stopping. So, did Albus go all phoenix and invisible, simultaneously? He couldn't have apparated, and the bright flash w/in the flames makes me think 'phoenix.' And since he then took Malcolm (and everyone else) by surprise, he must have been invisible. Or did everyone just assume the phoenix they may have seen momentarily was Fawkes?

Great end--stunning Malcolm literally as he'd just stunned him emotionally. Quite a thing to put the poor boy through, though--thinking he'd just inadvertently incinerated the Hero of the Wizarding World and his sister's beloved! Malcolm reaching for his wand and trying to recall the fireball also showed his character.

Gertrude probably knows something about the mated wands, from the days of testing the wards, so I guess she figured out why Minerva had Blampa with her. And why did Blampa defer to Siofre? What is Blampa's history?

Gertrude and Minerva's tea should be interesting.

Hope RL doesn't drive you to ground too long.

[Hogwarts Duo]

Another awesome chapter! Citrus or not, you really do know how to weave a fantastic tale and make it seem like it’s actually happening in real time. That’s what makes reading your story so much fun. It’s the little attention to details from every day life that gives me the feeling that I’m not reading a fanfiction story but actually peeking into someone’s life. Haha.

The unaccustomed physical activity may have had her feeling uncomfortably sore, but she couldn’t regret it, Minerva thought with a smile. Albus had certainly shed his reservations. She doubted he had any fear at all any more that she would find him disgusting.

Minerva lay back in the bath and wondered whether Albus was sore. She supposed he would be sore in different places than she was.

Tee hee, I’ll say Albus has shed his inhibitions and reservations about being with Minerva. After the last few days of their lovemaking, I’d say they’ve covered all the bases and Minerva has left him with an increased sense of awareness of her sexual prowess and desire for him and he has no lingering doubts about a possible rejection from his touch (or at least he shouldn’t have at this point haha).

Ya just have to love Wilspy and Blampa. I found myself wondering how Blampa conveyed to Wilspy Minerva’s predicament and then what must have gone through Wilspy’s mind upon hearing of Minerva’s discomfort. It also made me wonder if perhaps Albus hadn’t needed a bit of a potion to help with his soreness before the duel of the day. I dare say he’d want to be in tip top shape given the nature of the tests and his activities with Minerva, while no doubt stimulating and spectacular, most likely left him a wee bit tired. Ah, ya gotta love the citrus…

Spruffle sounds like a crotchety old house elf. I’m glad Blampa isn’t taking what he says to heart and isn’t letting the mean Spruffle see her cry. It would be really nice of Minerva could find an appropriate gift for a house elf though I’m sure it’s a great start just inviting Blampa to go with her to the match. That should put Spruffle in his place, at least for a bit. Haha.

Siofre is fun to read when she’s interacting with others. I can see where it would also be hard for others to tell when she’s joking and when she’s being serious. She seems to have a bit of a sarcastic nature about her. Sound like anyone we all know?? Yep, I can certainly see from where Minerva gets some of her personality traits. I think Minerva is a bit less biting in her comments but I’m sure given the right circumstances and people, she could be just as cutting, if not more so, than her grandmother.

And speaking of biting and Siofre…her comments directed towards Albus seemed to have been made in jest. At least I’m hoping that’s the case. Enough water had gone beneath the bridge that I’m sure they’ve reached an understanding or acceptance about his past and have moved beyond. I don’t think Siofre meant to be rude or offensive, just tweaking Albus a bit. But it was nice to see Albus making light of it as well and not reverting back to any deep thoughts on the matter or his acceptability for Minerva. Whew.

PINK FLAMINGOS!!! Wow, you do manage to cover everything. Never in my wildest dreams would I have envisioned pink flamingos in this story but you’ve managed to shock me into fits of hysterical laughter. I knew I loved Malcolm and the fact that he and Albus have reached an understanding about “my boy” and “boss” is a hoot! ;D

Oddly, Albus laughed as the ball of fire approached him, growing as it flew. Malcolm’s eyes widened when he realised that Albus was neither stepping aside nor countering it, and he raised his wand to try to stop it himself, but too late, and the ball of fire hit Albus mid-chest, exploding on contact. Malcolm ran towards Albus, but the older wizard was engulfed in flame and vanished in a bright flash. Malcolm stood stock-still for a moment, his face completely drained of colour, then he sank to his knees as the rest of the spectators rose to their feet in horror. It happened so quickly that Minerva had barely comprehended it before relief swept over her.

MERLIN’S BEARD what an ending to this chapter!! I found it very interesting that Albus laughed as the ball of fire approached him. No doubt he found it somewhat amusing since his animagus form is a phoenix and he can easily “swallow” the fireball. It reminded me of Fawkes and him taking the hit for Albus in the Ministry when he and Voldemort were duelling. But I can imagine the horror and shock that must have passed over Malcolm in thinking that he’d done Albus serious bodily harm if not caused his demise. I’m very thankful that Minerva didn’t have time to process what occurred before Albus reappeared. Otherwise, I’m sure it would have taken Blampa, Siofre, Gertie, and Johannes to restrain her. And Malcolm thought he had a gash on his cheek BEFORE he did Albus harm….eeeek. I imagine he’d need a portkey to St. Mungo’s if he’d really done serious harm to Albus.

As always, I thoroughly enjoyed this chapter and it was nice to see an update on my birthday, tee hee. That was the icing on the cake for me. LOL Looking forward to more, as always!

Cheers,
The GLM

[Lamenting Quill]

Great chapter as always! hehe - I especially loved the end - looking forward to more, dear.

Cheers,

~Mandi~

[esoterica1693]

Something else that struck me....at the beginning of this chap it says they didn't return to the castle til near 11 the previous night. Now the events related in the previous chapter account for maybe 3-4 hrs of time, which leave about 3-4 hrs unaccounted for. At the rate they were going in the first 3-4 hrs, plus what they'd done earlier in the day, one can only imagine what they did in their last few hours up on the mountain. *No wonder* Minerva was sore the next morning. ;-)

[MMADfan]

CLV: Aprés Spree

The world slowly came into focus, a deep blue sky with a few puffy clouds. A woman’s voice reached his ears, coming closer, but he couldn’t tell precisely what she was saying. A face appeared above him, but it wasn’t the face he wanted to see.

“Trude . . . Gertrude,” Malcolm said. His head pounded.

“He seems confused,” the witch said.

“No, he’s not.” Albus bent over him, smiling. “She will be here shortly, my boy. She’s coming down from the stands. You did very well.” The older wizard patted him on the shoulder.

Malcolm blinked and returned his smile wanly. “Some trick that was, boss. You had me scared.”

Malcolm pushed himself up into a sitting position. The witch, whom Malcolm now recognised as Poppy, tutted at that, but despite the fact that his head was swimming and he was more tired than he had been in years, he didn’t want to have Gertrude arrive while he was still flat on his back. The ground was hard, anyway. He tried to get to his feet, but Poppy took hold of his shoulder, preventing him from rising.

“I haven’t finished my examination yet. And when I’m through with him,” Poppy said, turning to Albus, “you’re next.”

“I am sure we can complete this in a more congenial environment, however,” Albus said. “It was just a very light Stunner. He was beginning to come around before you reached us.”

“That’s as may be,” Poppy said as she waved her wand over Malcolm’s head, “but he caught something on his shoulder, as well, I noticed, and the spell-work itself was enough to exhaust any wizard.”

“I’m fine. Bit of a headache, that’s all. You should look at the Headmaster,” Malcolm said, looking up at Albus, who showed not a single sign of being singed, but whose head wound was still oozing blood.

Poppy glanced over at the Headmaster and nodded. “I will when I’m through with you, Malcolm.” Noting the wizard’s impatience, she added, “And I’ll be quick about it.”

Poppy was as good as her word, and as Gertrude crossed the Quidditch pitch to him, Malcolm was getting to his feet.

“You’ll be wanting something for your headache, Malcolm, so don’t go far,” Poppy admonished.

“Just to the changing room, that’s all,” Malcolm said as he turned and went to meet Gertrude, and his sister and grandmother, who were hurrying along beside her. Blampa was practically invisible as she followed Minerva, a small second shadow.

As he strode toward his family, the crowd stood and cheered. Malcolm smiled and waved briefly, but he was focussed on Gertrude. As he met the three witches, Malcolm tore his gaze from Gertrude long enough to greet his grandmother and put a hand on her arm.

“Are you all right, Malcolm?” Gertrude asked in a low, worried tone.

“Aye, just fine. Poppy’s going to give me something for my headache, and she has a balm she wants me to rub into my shoulder at the first opportunity.” Malcolm looked up at the stands, where people were still on their feet. He gave one more brief wave, then said, “Let’s get out from under all these eyes.”

Malcolm turned and started toward the Gryffindor changing rooms, the three witches following him closely, Blampa still trotting along behind them. Albus and Poppy were also walking in that direction and they all met a few yards from the entrance. The wound on Albus’s forehead was completely healed with no sign that it had ever been there.

“Well, my boy, I have been given a clean bill of health, so no damage at all, just as I said,” Albus told Malcolm. “I am going to go and consult with Filius, then I’ll make an announcement regarding your performance. We aren’t scoring this officially, but he has been making a record of it, and I am sure he would be happy to speak with you about it later, if you like.” Albus held out his hand. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall!”

Malcolm smiled a real, broad smile for the first time since he woke up staring at the sky. “Thank you, sir! I hope the entire year is as much fun as this morning has been – if, um, a wee bit less exciting,” he added, sensing Gertrude stiffen beside him.

Albus turned to Malcolm’s small entourage and said, “I shall see you ladies at lunch. You will stay, won’t you, Siofre?”

“Of course, Albus. It has been a while since I endured a Hogwarts meal. It should be good for my character, if not for my digestion,” Siofre quipped.

“Very good, then. And Professor McGonagall, er, Minerva McGonagall,” Albus clarified, “we were going to meet briefly before lunch. Where would be most convenient for you, my dear?”

Minerva was still trying to process what she had experienced when she saw Albus disappear in a burst of flames, but Albus’s warm smile and bright eyes brought a smile to her own face, particularly as they had made no definite plans to see each other that day, other than some vague thought that they would meet after dinner to discuss their departure.

“Your office?” she suggested. “Or mine.”

“Yours, perhaps,” Albus agreed with a nod. He looked toward the stands. “Now, I must go before the natives become restless.”

Malcolm was happy to reach the confines of the changing rooms, and he lowered himself gingerly onto a bench.

“You aren’t all right,” Gertrude said with concern.

“I’m just a little tired, Tru, that’s all,” Malcolm said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “And my legs ache from holding onto that dragon for so long. Just took a little while to catch up with me.”

“And your shoulder?” she asked, reaching to move his plaid aside.

“Something Albus called a ‘thumper.’ Just like being hit by a Bludger, that’s all,” Malcolm said, trying to avoid having her touch his clothing. He glanced up at his grandmother, who was smirking at him.

“The grandson’s suffered worse than a Bludger to the shoulder, lass, and I doubt that Albus had any desire to permanently injure his newest staff member – nor the brother of Head of Gryffindor,” Siofre remarked dryly.

Gertrude moved away from Malcolm slightly, once more aware that, although they may no longer be observed by a couple hundred eyes, they were not really alone.

“And he needs his Headache Potion,” Poppy said briskly. “One of your brother’s, Malcolm. It should work very quickly – and help some with the shoulder, too. But be sure to use this balm on it. And don’t wait too long to do it, either, or it won’t be as effective.” She handed him a small silver tin.

“That’s one of mine, as well, Malcolm,” Murdoch added. He had come in as Poppy was speaking, and now stood close behind her. “You really should let her apply it now – or apply it yourself as soon as we all leave you alone, if you prefer.”

Gertrude, who had turned to listen to Poppy and Murdoch, glanced over at Malcolm, who had put the tin into his sporran and now accepted his vial of Headache Potion and downed it in one swallow.

Minerva stepped forward. “Are you sure you’re all right, Malcolm? Not just physically – that was quite a shock to everyone, Dumbledore’s trick there at the end. It must have been even more of a shock to you.”

Malcolm gave a one-shouldered shrug, feeling the bruising on his shoulder more now that his adrenalin wasn’t running as high. “It was a shock, I’ll give you that. It shouldn’t have exploded quite like that, for one, and that was the first shock, and then to seem to have completely disintegrated, nothing left but ash on the grass, that was the second shock. I thought for a moment that I had killed him. But it was just for a moment.” Malcolm grinned. “It was a very good trick! Quite amusing now that I think about it. And it certainly did teach me not to take anything for granted in a duel, and reminded me that appearances can be deceiving.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Here I thought I’d done something clever with the sod, and the bagpipes and giant sunflowers, and it barely ruffled him. I’ll have to practise with him more this year – but we’ll be careful, I promise, Tru-love,” Malcolm said softly, seeing the expression in Gertrude’s eyes and suddenly not caring who in the room knew how he felt about her. They were family, anyway, except for Poppy, and she seemed a discreet sort, however silly he might sometimes find her.

Gertrude quirked a smile. “Just don’t tell me about it until afterward, Malcolm. I think that would be safest,” she said, finally sitting down next to him rather than hovering uncertainly off to one side.

Minerva watched with interest the different expressions that crossed the faces of the others in the room as they suddenly realised why the Deputy Headmistress had been so concerned about the most recent addition to the Hogwarts staff. Siofre looked amused and smug, Murdoch seemed floored and incredulous, and Poppy looked surprised and at a loss for words.

“I think we should leave you alone now, Malcolm, to take care of your shoulder,” Minerva said. “We’ll see you at lunch. One o’clock in the Great Hall. I’m certain that Gertrude can ensure that you make it on time and in one piece.”

Malcolm looked up at Minerva and smiled. “Aye, little sister, Trudie will take care of me.”

Minerva took Poppy’s elbow and turned her, steering the baffled witch toward the exit as Siofre looked up at her tall grandson and said, “Well, offer an old witch an arm, lad! I know your mother raised you properly, so you have no excuses!”

Murdoch blinked and shook himself slightly. He turned from staring at his oldest brother and the seemingly dour witch at his side, who had now turned soft and warm as she touched Malcolm’s arm. Murdoch grinned down at Siofre. “Of course, I am happy to escort you, Grandmother!”

The four left the changing room to Malcolm and Gertrude, Blampa silently following along. Minerva cast one last glance back at the two, but they were now oblivious of any company, and although neither had moved, it was clear that their attention was entirely focussed on each other. Minerva closed the door behind them.

“To the castle, then, I think,” Minerva said, adding, “I don’t know how many are staying for lunch, but I’m glad you will be, Grandmother.”

“Aye, Herbert said to give his best to you children and told me to enjoy myself, but I will need to leave right after lunch, I think,” Siofre replied.

“How is he? I thought he seemed . . . tired at the wedding yesterday,” Minerva said, not saying what she really thought – that he had looked gaunt and pale.

Siofre shook her head. “He isn’t well, but he doesn’t want a fuss. Typical Herbert,” she said.

Murdoch said with some concern, “Is he ill, then?”

“Just numerous small ills, that’s all, but you know that at his age, numerous small ills can be as draining as one major illness,” Siofre replied. “But he’s still enjoying every day. He would have come today, but after the wedding yesterday, I thought it too much all at once for him – and I think that seeing Albus explode like that might not have done his heart any favours, either.” She chuckled. “He may have even stripped a few months from my own life with that stunt, I think!”

Minerva shook her head. She thought she had lost a few years of her life in those seconds between Albus’s disappearance in the flash of flame and his reappearance behind Malcolm. Minerva had only a suspicion of how he may have achieved it. It certainly was an impressive performance, though, even before he had accomplished that trick. And Malcolm had certainly done very well, better than Minerva thought any other wizard of her acquaintance could have done. Minerva smiled to herself, proud of both Albus and her brother, ignoring the other three as they chatted, and so when Poppy spoke to her, she didn’t hear her immediately.

“Minerva?” Poppy repeated.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Minerva asked.

“I was asking whether you would like to come with us.” Realising that her friend had been lost in thought, Poppy added, “We’re going up to my sitting room until one. I still want to check Dumbledore again, but he was adamant about waiting until after lunch, so I thought we could all go up to my rooms and visit.”

Minerva looked surprised. “I thought he said you gave him a clean bill of health.”

“Well, what he would let me check, yes. And he seems fine, but I wouldn’t be very happy if he had a delayed reaction that I could have prevented.” Poppy sighed. “I suppose an hour or two won’t make any difference.”

“I am meeting Dumbledore in my office before lunch,” Minerva reminded her. “I don’t know when he will be able to get away from everyone, so I had better not join you. I wouldn’t want to miss him. And I do have some work to do.”

Poppy nodded, and Murdoch said, “That’s a pity, M’nervy, since you seemed the only one not surprised by Malcolm’s sudden tender side – and the apparent object of his affection. Have they been seeing each other, then?”

Minerva hesitated. “They wish to be discreet. I think it’s best if you talk to Malcolm. And I also think it best that they maintain some decorum with the students arriving in just over a week.”

“So it is she who is making my grandson the respectable wizard, and not Albus,” Siofre said with a smile. She nodded. “That will be interesting to see.”

Minerva shrugged in response. She did not want to enter into any speculation with them. She could just imagine their reactions if they had a clue about her and Albus. It seemed that Murdoch had some notion of their relationship, but he had been fairly discreet the day before, and Minerva doubted that he had said anything to anyone else, even to Poppy. She certainly hoped that he wouldn’t, at least not until she had talked to him herself. And she truly did not want Grandmother Siofre to know just yet. Minerva was beginning to appreciate Albus’s policy of discretion and keeping their relationship private for a while. She had had no concern about her parents knowing, not after the conversation she had had with her mother when she realised that Egeria had known of her feelings for years and that she had hoped that Albus returned them. Siofre, however, was a different matter. Eventually, after their relationship was more established, Minerva supposed she wouldn’t mind her knowing, but right then, it felt peculiar, and more so after having seen Albus and Siofre interact as they had. It had been a sharp reminder to Minerva of all of her own insecurities about her youth compared to Albus’s age, something she had nearly forgotten in her attempts to relieve Albus’s insecurities and in her joy at their new relationship.

The four entered the castle. Knowing that Albus would likely be at least a little while longer, she offered to show her grandmother and brother her new office and classroom before they went up to Poppy’s to wait for lunch. After the other three had left, Minerva thanked Blampa for her company that morning, then dismissed her, reminding her to be sure that Spruffles knew all about how she had attended the event and how pleased Minerva was with her.

Twenty minutes later, Minerva was sitting at the desk in her office, Albus’s old desk, when she heard – or felt – someone enter the classroom. Even without looking up and seeing who it was, she knew it was Albus. She couldn’t consciously sense his magical signature, but she recognised him nonetheless.

Minerva smiled as she saw Albus wave his wand and seal the door behind him. He looked marvellous, and certainly none the worse for wear. He had cleaned any traces of blood from his robes, his colour was good, and his step lively. He smiled as he turned and saw her rise from her seat.

“My dear, how are you?” he asked as he crossed the classroom.

Minerva met him in the doorway. “More to the point, how are you, Albus? You were the one in that duel, not I.”

Albus took her hand in one of his own and caressed her cheek with the other. “I am fine, but you seemed so pale when you came down on the pitch. I was worried about you, worried that I had frightened you.”

Any residual irritation that Minerva felt toward Albus regarding his horrifying stunt seemed to melt away at his words, though she didn’t let that prevent her from telling him precisely how she had felt.

“I am fine now, Albus,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But I will admit to you, you gave me a terrible scare. It was a matter of seconds only, if that, but for that moment, I thought my heart stopped. Please don’t scare me like that again. It was particularly dreadful because it had been Malcolm who cast the fireball. If he had done anything to you . . . I think it would have killed us both, Albus. I don’t know if you saw his face, but he was terribly affected by what he thought he had done.”

Albus cocked his head, smiling slightly as he looked down at her. “Your brother is a grown wizard, Minerva, and more than that, he is a powerful wizard. I don’t know if you appreciate quite how powerful he is. I don’t think that he does, in fact, although his control is quite good. It is never a bad thing to be reminded that the exercise of one’s power can have devastating consequences, though that was not foremost in my mind when I let him believe that the fireball had devoured me. It simply seemed at the moment too good an opportunity to miss. In fact, had I given it any thought at all, I would have assumed that Malcolm may have known what could happen – what could really happen, as opposed to what appeared to occur.”

“Well, you had several dozen people believing that you had died, killed in a sporting duel, and as for Malcolm . . . Malcolm said that your trick reminded him that things are not always as they appear and not to take anything for granted, so if you want him to learn anything else from the experience, I suggest you speak with him,” Minerva said. “But am I right in believing that the flames weren’t from the fireball at all?”

Albus’s smile deepened. “You are perfectly correct. It was a matter of timing – close timing – in order to make it appear that way. I’ve always been rather good with fire and fire magic, and there’s a little trick I have, hmm, how to put this . . . a trick I have borrowed from my Animagus form, shall we say. I don’t do it in quite the same manner as I do when I am in my Animagus form, of course, and it is more difficult than when I am a phoenix, but it accomplishes much the same effect. I exploded the fireball just before it was to hit me, drawing on its energy to create the other fire effects. If you could perceive each instant slowly enough, you would see that the flames appear after I explode the fireball, then I vanish, and then there is another explosion, which is what appears to cause me to vanish, but which actually happens after I have disappeared – I step aside while casting a separate spell to create the second flash,” Albus explained. “It requires very rapid, well-coordinated spell-casting, so it was extremely good practise for me, as I haven’t had to do anything like it in some time, and it has been many years since I have actually performed that specific trick. I was pleased it had the intended effect. None of the individual spells is particularly difficult, but the execution is tricky.”

“I doubt that anyone else present could have done it, though – particularly making themselves invisible. I don’t know anyone else at all who can do that,” Minerva said. “But even just using an ordinary Disillusionment . . . no, I can’t imagine anyone being able to do that, let alone someone else imagining doing it.” She looked up at him thoughtfully. “You do know that people are going to be talking about this for days – weeks, even – and wondering and speculating about how you accomplished that, don’t you?”

Albus nodded. “Yes, and normally . . . normally, I do not seek quite so much public awareness of my particular talents, but I have reason to believe it might be time to remind . . .” Albus hesitated, then continued, “to remind certain wizards of my continued presence and let them know that sitting at Hogwarts these last years has not led me into a decline.”

Minerva’s first thought was of Valerianna Yaxley, but she knew that he was not speaking of her, and not only because he had used the word “wizards.”

“You said something the other day when we were talking with my father, something about it not being a good thing to fall out of practise with your defensive skills. But we’re at peace now; do you know anything that makes you believe that it won’t last?” Minerva asked.

“Other than the fact that whenever one power-mad wizard has been defeated, he has never been the last?” Albus turned his head to face the window across the room. His expression was sombre, regretful, and his voice low as he said, “I have had concerns for a number of years, years when another might have thought my concerns to be mad. But I knew Grindelwald. I knew the look in his eye, the look that bespoke intelligence and wit, but which held no warmth or compassion, only selfishness, egotism, and the joy of cruelty. And when I see that look in the eye of a wizard who is also powerful, as powerful as Grindelwald, and as ambitious . . . . My concerns have not abated, and in recent years, I have heard rumours, yes.” Albus nodded. “They are only rumours now, and vague. Perhaps something will intervene, or the wizard is not as clever and magnetic as he believes – nor as dangerous as I fear. But if he is . . . we must all be prepared, Minerva. I must be prepared,” he ended softly.

Minerva leaned against him and put her arms around him. If having her wits scared out of her for a moment was a price to be paid for this preparation . . . she would simply have to learn to live with it, she supposed, or be prepared, herself, both for having her wits scared out of her and for the rise of another Dark Wizard. She sighed and relaxed in Albus’s arms. She was safe here with him, and he was more powerful than any wizard in several generations. There was no cause for concern just yet . . . but she would still prepare herself.

“I love you, Albus,” she said softly. She felt Albus kiss her head and inhale her scent in reply.

After a few moments, he said, “Let’s go to your rooms for a bit, my dear. It’s still a little while before lunch. I should go to my office and be the Headmaster for our guests, but . . . I think I would like to do a bunk, just this once.”

Minerva let go and smiled up at him. “So, you would like to hide out in my rooms for a while? I think that is a very good idea. And you certainly deserve it after this morning.” She kissed his cheek. “Let’s go!”

The two Flooed through to Minerva’s sitting room. Albus sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him.

“Wait just a minute, Albus. I’ll be right back,” Minerva said.

While she thought that although Albus looked fairly well, there was something about him that seemed fatigued. When she reemerged from the kitchen a moment later, Minerva held out a colourfully wrapped bar.

“Honeyduke’s dark chocolate with hazelnuts. You look as though you could use it,” she said.

Albus smiled and accepted the thick bar of chocolate. “Thank you, my dear. Share it with me?” he asked as he unwrapped it.

“No, thank you. I will wait for lunch,” Minerva said, settling down beside him.

Albus broke off a piece of the chocolate and put it in his mouth. He chewed it slowly, letting it melt. He sighed and put his arm around Minerva, pulling her to rest against him.

He took another bite of chocolate, and when he had finished it, he said, “Poppy wants to give me a thorough examination.”

“That would probably be a good idea,” Minerva said.

“Other than the slicing hex and a stinger, which barely touched me – you didn’t notice it? – anyway, other than those two, nothing really hit me. The fireball was alarming, but it didn’t harm me, and the flames I cast burned the grass, not me. Other than a slightly bruised back and a bit of magical fatigue, which only time, food, and your loving care can help, I am fine,” Albus replied.

“Still, you did expend a lot of energy, and Poppy doesn’t know what happened with the fireball. For all she knows, you were hit by that explosion and only appear unscathed,” Minerva reminded him. “And you should have her take a look at your back. I doubt the fall really did you any harm, but better to be safe about such things.”

“If she does a thorough examination, though, some of the diagnostics she might cast could reveal certain things that I would rather remain private,” Albus said, his cheeks pink.

Minerva raised her eyebrows and lifted her head from his shoulder, looking up at him. “And precisely what would that be? If you have a health problem – ”

CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST!

[MMADfan]

CONTINUED FROM THE PREVIOUS POST!

CLV: Aprés Spree, CONTINUED

“Not a problem, my dear, but I did take a potion with my breakfast this morning. Yesterday was rather active for us in a way that I hadn’t been in quite some time. I was a tad sore. Normally, I would have simply waited for it to wear off – I would have been fine tomorrow, I’m sure – but I thought that with the duel this morning, I should not be distracted by any discomfort, so I took a pain potion, and that might appear in a diagnostic spell. Then there was the activity itself,” Albus said, growing pinker. “While I don’t think that Poppy would specifically be testing for it, some of the general diagnostics might reveal, well, the expenditure of certain resources.”

Minerva choked back a laugh. “You mean she could tell you’ve had sex?”

Albus nodded. “Particularly, um, well, the details aren’t important. But given that she doesn’t know that I’m with you – with anyone – she might think that, well, to be in the condition I’m in, without a, um, a partner, I’d have to be quite, um . . .”

“You mean she might think you’ve been masturbating? A lot?” Minerva asked, successfully keeping the smile from her face, although it was something of a struggle for her.

Albus blushed, nodding again. “It would be rather embarrassing for me, even if she didn’t say anything. And I doubt she would. She does try to be, um, to be discreet, and she doesn’t normally even ask about my sexual health, since she knows it embarrasses me, but . . . just knowing that she would be wondering, it makes me uncomfortable.”

Minerva did smile at that. “Well, I wasn’t really ready to talk to her about this, but she has been a friend for a long time, and she does care about me – and you. I think that she might be one of those who should know about us. It might be a good idea, anyway, since she is the school matron, as well as my friend. I think it might be hard, otherwise. I might feel as though I was sneaking around if I tried to hide it from her. I don’t mind if no other members of staff know – in fact, I can think of a few whom I’d prefer to know nothing about my private life – but she’s probably all right. And she’s not one to repeat a confidence.”

After thinking a moment, Albus asked, “Do you suppose you could speak with her, then? Before the exam? You needn’t mention our, um, activities specifically, but if she should notice something, at least she wouldn’t wonder. And let her know that we are trying to be discreet?”

“Of course, Albus.” She patted his arm. “Leave it to me. I somehow think it will be less of a surprise to her than Gertrude and Malcolm were. She kept encouraging me to see more of you, telling me it would be good if we could become closer. I don’t know if she guesses, but at least subconsciously, I think she may have known something of my feelings for you.”

“Good. Thank you, my dear.” Albus looked toward her chimneypiece and the clock resting on it. He sighed. “Lunch shortly, my dear. We should leave. I wish we could spend the afternoon together.”

“I will be in the castle. Come find me after you’re done with everything. Let’s try to snatch whatever time we have now,” Minerva suggested. “I had invited Gertrude to tea, and she may still come, but I have a feeling she and Malcolm will be spending the afternoon together somewhere private.”

The two Flooed to Minerva’s office then walked down to the ground floor together. It appeared that most of the staff and a good many of the guests had stayed for lunch. The house-elves had set up a few small round tables and one rectangular table. Albus guided Minerva to that table and pulled out a chair for her. As Malcolm and Gertrude stepped into the Great Hall, Albus excused himself and brought them over to sit at the long table with him, as well, placing Malcolm on his left, Gertrude next to Malcolm, and leaving a chair free between himself and Minerva.

Albus leaned over and said to Minerva, “I thought that Siofre might sit between us, my dear. If you see her arrive before I do, could you bring her over?”

“And Murdoch?” Minerva asked.

“He may sit with Poppy wherever they choose, of course. I imagine that Johannes and Horace will sit up here with us, as well. And Norman may choose to join us, but he may wish not to. He had some guests with him, I noticed,” Albus replied.

Minerva nodded. It sounded sensible. She thought it might be a bit strange to be sitting with Grandmother Siofre between her and Albus, but it made sense, and she wouldn’t allow herself to be uncomfortable. Or she wouldn’t think about it until later. There was certainly no point in having the old witch notice anything odd about her granddaughter and wonder about it later. She was Head of Gryffindor House having lunch in the Great Hall after a Hogwarts event. That was all she had to remember, and she would be fine.

-/-/-/-/-

Malcolm didn’t notice that the others left, he only noticed that he was alone with Trudie. When she reached to move aside his plaid again, he caught up her hand and brought it to his mouth. As he held her hand to his lips, he closed his eyes.

“Ah, Malcolm, we should see to that shoulder,” Gertrude said. “And to the rest of you. You look exhausted.”

“No, I’m fine, Trudie, fine with you here,” Malcolm said, bringing her hand to his cheek. He let out a sigh.

Gertrude leaned forward and kissed his forehead softly. “Let me see to that shoulder, then. You heard what Poppy and your brother said. It won’t do to wait.”

Malcolm opened his eyes and looked into hers. “No,” he said softly, “it wouldn’t do to wait. Not at all.”

He leaned forward and kissed her lips. “Mmm. No delay then, only sufficient to find ourselves in better surroundings. Not here for you, Tru-love.”

“Shush, Malcolm. Let me tend that shoulder. Then you need to get cleaned up and have your lunch,” Gertrude said, brushing his hair back from his face.

“I’ll need some help with that, Trude. As you remarked, I am exhausted. I need your help,” Malcolm said, stroking his fingertips over her face. “And we need to work on those worry lines of yours. I am fine. I really am. I was just a bit shaken, that’s all.”

“You’re sure? I thought I was the one being hit by that Stunner. It was a shock, it really was,” Gertrude said. “And we saw him reappear behind you before you did, and it was still . . . are you sure you are all right?”

“Aye, Trudie, I’m fine.” Malcolm looked down. “I suppose I looked a right fool there,” he said, suddenly embarrassed, “on my knees, him standing behind me like that.”

“No, no! Not at all! You were absolutely wonderful, Malcolm. Your spells were ingenious. And the way you tried to stop the fireball when Albus just stood there laughing at it – that is the mark of a real hero, Malcolm. You were very impressive!” Gertrude shook her head. “I love Albus, but sometimes he is somewhat too impulsive. He probably thought it was a terribly clever and amusing idea. I’m not very happy with him at the moment.”

“It was clever and amusing, Trudie,” Malcolm said with a grin. “Although I wish I knew how he did it. It was as if he just became the flame, then he was gone, and next I knew, I was looking up at him, practically blinded by the sun in my eyes, and I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing at all. Then it all went completely black.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “It was a very good morning.”

Gertrude sighed and shook her head. A very good morning, indeed! “Now, will you let me see to that shoulder?” she asked, reaching for him again.

Malcolm grinned. “The salve is in my sporran, you know – and you’ll need that!” Suddenly he was on his feet, his eyes sparkling, taking her hands and pulling her up from the bench. “Come on, Tru, see if you can get it!”

He turned and gave her one last tug, then he let her go and headed for the rear exit. He looked back at her, his face alight. “Catch me! Catch me, Tru!”

He laughed as he loped away from the Quidditch stadium and towards the castle. It was a glorious day: he had duelled the greatest wizard in the world and impressed the witch whom he loved, his beautiful, beautiful Trudie.

Gertrude laughed herself as she saw him take off through the doors. She shook her head, then she reached out a hand and Malcolm’s broom jumped into it. “Silly wizard,” she said softly. “My dear, wonderful, and very silly wizard.”

She strode out of the stadium and caught sight of Malcolm as he looked back to see where she was. She mounted the broom and followed him, catching up to him as he ran. She flew beside him and looked down at him, unrestrained amusement in her eyes.

“Seems you forgot something, Malcolm,” she called.

Malcolm laughed then collapsed onto the grass, rolling over onto his back, breathing hard. Gertrude circled back around and landed next to him.

“Now, do you think that running about like that is a wise thing to do after you’ve just spent all that energy in the duel?” she asked, looking down at him.

He shook his head, catching his breath. “No, probably not wise at all. But you’re the wise one, Tru. See why I need you?”

“Hmmph. Let’s get up to my room,” Gertrude said with a small grin. “And I would say that I caught you, Malcolm.”

“Yes, you have, you most certainly have,” he said, accepting her hand as he got to his feet. “You still have to get the tin from my sporran, though, you know.”

“As I said, let’s get to my room,” Gertrude said with a smile. In a softer voice, she said, “I missed you last night.”

Malcolm grinned happily at that, and they began to walk the last few yards to one of the castle’s back entrances.

“Well, you may be the wise one, but I did think it best. Better no distractions. And,” he added, looking down at her and winking, “I thought you might tire me out too much this morning. A man has to preserve his strength, you know, lass!”

Gertrude barked a laugh at that.

The two took some dark, narrow backstairs up to the second floor and avoided seeing anyone. When they reached her rooms, Malcolm whispered the password he had chosen for Gertrude, “Carissima.”

The door clicked open and Gertrude led the way in, leaning Malcolm’s broom against the doorjamb as Malcolm closed the door behind them.

Gertrude turned slowly and faced him. “Now, we are dealing with that shoulder, Malcolm, if I have to tie you down to do it!”

“Oh, would you do that for me, Gertrude, really?” Malcolm said with a teasing smile.

“You want to play? Then,” she said, reaching toward him, “we . . . will . . . play.”

She pulled hard on his plaid, eliciting a slight grimace from Malcolm as it tugged on his injured shoulder. With her other hand, she reached down and grabbed the top of his sporran. Walking backwards, Gertrude led him into the bedroom. She pulled him around, then let go of him, pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed.

She stepped close to him, shaking her head slightly, and whispered, “Silly boy, my sweet, silly wizard.”

Gertrude unpinned his plaid and draped the long cloth over the end of the bed, smiling slightly as she looked at the raven and the snake. Her smile grew, one of pleasure and pride as, wandless, she sent the pin floating across the room to settle on the table.

Malcolm grinned. “So, now who is showing off, Trude? Very well done, very nice, indeed,” he said. He was genuinely pleased that she had been practising. “I knew I saw something more in you than just a staid Arithmancer. I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you, before I even knew your name, I knew that, that there was so much there, so much . . .”

“I was just distracting you so that I could do this,” Gertrude said with a matching smile, holding up the small silver tin she had pulled from his sporran.

She unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, pulling the tails from the kilt. As she pushed the shirt back, she winced to see the large purple bruise developing on his shoulder.

“Oh, Malcolm,” she said softly. “You should have let me take care of this sooner.”

As she dipped her fingers into the bright green salve, Malcolm removed his shirt and tossed it left-handed over on top of the plaid. He watched Gertrude’s face as she tentatively began to smooth the thick ointment over his shoulder.

“It looks worse than it is, Tru, really,” Malcolm said.

One corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “It hurts to see this, your beautiful shoulder, your skin . . .” She blinked rapidly and dipped her fingers in the balm again.

As she rubbed the potion into Malcolm’s shoulder, the bruise began to recede, turning green, then yellow, as it gradually disappeared, and she put a little more force behind her massage of his muscles, working the liniment into the tissues.

“It does feel much better. Thank you, Trudie,” Malcolm said.

She nodded and sent the tin of salve to join his pin. “You are beautiful, Malcolm, very beautiful,” she said softly, running her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. “Please don’t let yourself be hurt.”

“I will do my best, but this really wasn’t anything,” he replied. He reached up and touched her cheek, turning her face toward him. There were tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, Tru, I’m sorry. Please . . . please, Tru.”

She blinked back her tears, but a few escaped to roll down her cheeks. She started to dash them away, but Malcolm caught her wrists and pulled her down to sit beside him on the bed. He kissed her cheeks, gently kissing her tears away. He put both arms around her and lay down with her, their legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

“Come here, love, don’t cry, please,” Malcolm said.

“I’m not crying,” Gertrude said. “I don’t cry.”

“Of course you don’t,” Malcolm murmured. Her tears may have dried, but he could feel that she was still distressed. “What was it? I know I have a most beautiful shoulder, and it doesn’t look quite as beautiful in purple,” he said lightly, “but I don’t think it could be hideous enough to elicit tears.” He was pleased to feel her smile. “So . . . what was it? You know that Dumbledore wouldn’t have hurt me. I am fine.”

“Just . . . just a glimpse of a memory, and a time when no salve could erase a hurt,” Gertrude said. “But I don’t want to talk about that now. Sometime. Not now.”

Malcolm nodded and held her closer. “So, what shall we talk about, then?” He smiled. “I know! My beautiful . . . my beautiful Trudie.” He caressed her cheek.

“No, my beautiful, beautiful Malcolm,” she responded, running her hand over his shoulder and chest, then up his arm and back down over his chest.

“If you insist, far be it from me to protest!” Malcolm said with a laugh. “Shall we focus on the shoulders, or would you care to move on to other body parts?”

Gertrude rose up on one elbow and looked down at him. She ran her index finger over his face, outlining his features. “All of you is beautiful. Your face . . . your eyes . . . your nose . . . your lips . . . your hair, such beautiful curls . . .” She leaned forward and kissed his lips lightly. Her fingers strayed back down to his chest. “And these curls here on your chest, your beautiful, broad chest.” She brushed his nipples. “Beautiful, beautiful, all of you . . . your stomach, very beautiful.”

Her fingers reached his kilt and made quick work of the small buckles on either side. Two quick tugs, and the kilt fell open.

“Beautiful legs, beautiful hips, and this . . . this . . . so very, very beautiful,” she said, her voice growing husky as she looked down at the erection she was now stroking with two fingers.

“Beautiful?” Malcolm said in mock surprise. “Not . . . not more beautiful than my winning smile or my pretty eyes? Surely not!”

“No, not more beautiful. All of you, beautiful . . . and those eyes of yours. Now I know where you got them. Your grandmother has those same sharp, mischievous eyes. I thought your eyes were like your sister’s, but they really aren’t, they are only the same colour.” Gertrude wrapped her hand around him. “But this, this is just as beautiful as the rest of you, and I see all of your beauty in every part of you.”

“Oh, Tru, I should be telling you these things. You . . . you are the only witch I have ever known who is so beautiful. You are truly beautiful, and warm and exciting.” He groaned as she kissed the most recent object of her attention. “Yes, very, very warm and exciting.”

Gertrude slipped from the bed to her knees beside him. She pulled off his short boots and then his socks. She smiled up at him. “Do you always go barefoot when riding a dragon?” she asked. “I don’t know the protocol for dragon-riding.”

He turned his head to look down at her. “When I’m wearing dragonhide boots, it only seems respectful, if not prudent, to remove them. Besides, I did have a better purchase with bare feet.”

Gertrude smiled and stood. She held out her hand to him. “Time for your shower now, Malcolm. You don’t want to walk into the Great Hall smelling like dragon and burnt turf.”

“Hmmpf. No one else complained!” Malcolm said, sitting up and taking her hand.

“I’m not complaining. It’s rather alluring, actually, and very masculine,” Gertrude said with a gleam in her eye. “But you’re alluring enough without it, and I don’t want you turning any of those other witches’ heads with your charms, as it is.”

He stood in front of her and put his arms around her. “Well . . . I suppose if you are joining me, I could.”

“No, not this time, Malcolm. We need to get down to lunch in a little while. I don’t want you becoming distracted – or trying to distract me. You are the wizard-of-the-hour, after all. Everyone will be expecting you. And I have to go. I’m the Deputy. I can’t let Albus down.”

“Albus? What of me, Tru?” Malcolm asked, pulling her close and rubbing against her. “You don’t want to let me down, now, do you? And what if I faint in the shower without you there to catch me? I am exhausted, after all.”

“Ha! You are fine when it pleases you, and fine enough for this,” she said, reaching between them and taking hold of him, “but otherwise you’re exhausted and prone to a fainting spell?”

“I always feel faint around you, Tru, but you also revitalise me at the same time, thankfully. Your presence in the shower would be very, very welcome,” he said, brushing kisses over her face to punctuate his points.

Gertrude’s lips met his, and for a moment, he thought he had persuaded her, but then she pushed away from him with a sigh. “Later, Malcolm. After lunch, we can spend some time together. I told Minerva I might come to tea, but it wasn’t a firm plan. She’ll understand. We’ll do it after they’re back from their holiday.”

“Holiday?” This was the first Malcolm had heard of any holiday.

“Yes, she and Albus are going away for a few days before school starts. They won’t have much time alone after the first. I think it’s quite a sensible idea.”

“Where are they going?” Malcolm asked, curious.

“I don’t know, though he did ask me about our trip to Egypt. But that was a few days ago. I don’t know what their final plans are. I imagine he’ll tell me before they leave, which I believe will be in the morning. Now, off to the shower with you!” When he still seemed reluctant, she said, “I will keep you company in the bathroom, but I’m not coming into the shower with you. I will give you a massage when we get back. You probably need one after this morning. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She ran one hand over his chest.

Malcolm gave a sideways grin. “You are a stern schoolmistress, you know. You may not be staid, but you are stern.” He began to back toward the bathroom, dragging Gertrude with him. “I’ll take my shower like a good boy, but I do expect the promised massage as a reward.” He opened the door to the bathroom and let go of her as he moved over to the shower. “And didn’t you say something about . . . tying me down? You haven’t done that yet!”

Gertrude grinned. “Oh, the thought crossed my mind. If you had been very naughty, I might have had to use that plaid to bind you to the bed. For purely salutary purposes, of course. To enable me to apply that salve.”

“There may be other ‘salutary’ reasons that you may find . . . if you put your mind to it, Tru-love,” Malcolm said as he stepped under the spray of warm water.

She laughed. “You would like that, would you?”

Malcolm stood with his head back, the water coursing over his chest and down his body. “We won’t know until we try, will we? Blast, no flannel – Tru? Hand me a flannel, will you?”

“Yours isn’t in there from yesterday? Spoonie must have taken it to be laundered.” Gertrude retrieved a clean cloth from a covered basket. “Here you are.”

“Soap in my eyes,” Malcolm said, groping for her arm. Then suddenly, she was under the water with him. He looked down at her, grinning as she sputtered. “The old ‘soap-in-the-eyes’ trick! Surprised you fell for that one, Trudie.”

“Malcolm, you have confirmed it. You are mad!” Gertrude looked down at her robes, which were drenched. “Utterly mad.”

“Mmhm, and still in great need of your attention. I have this swelling, and it just won’t go down,” he said in a low voice. “I think you’re the only one who can help me. I know you are the only one who can help me, Tru.” He bent and kissed the side of her neck.

“Not in these robes,” Gertrude replied. “And I think my shoes are quite ruined.”

“Better to take it all off, then . . .”

Malcolm made quick work of removing Gertrude’s sodden garments, and then she proceeded to help him as only she could.

-/-/-/-/-

At just a few minutes before one, Gertrude and Malcolm emerged from her rooms. Gertrude was wearing robes of three shades of bright green that Malcolm told her made her look like Spring personified. She had wanted to put a teaching robe over them, but Malcolm had dissuaded her from that. She was slightly uncomfortable thinking that people – specifically, Poppy, Murdoch, and Siofre – might notice that she wasn’t in the aqua robes she had worn that morning, but Malcolm told her that there were many reasons that she might have changed her robes, and he doubted that anyone would think that one of them was that she had taken a shower while fully-clothed. Gertrude shook her head, but laughed.

The two hurried down the stairs, meeting Siofre, Poppy, and Murdoch on their way.

“We’re waiting for Johannes,” Poppy explained. “He stopped by the infirmary, but he had to get something from his rooms. We’ll be along in a minute.”

As they entered the Great Hall, Gertrude said in a low voice, “You see, Malcolm. A lot of people stayed for lunch. It would have been inconsiderate to have kept them waiting when they were expecting you.”

He chuckled. “A free meal was likely more the incentive than my presence.”

“The Headmaster would have waited to serve the lunch, though. Even if no one cared about your presence for any other reason, you would have delayed their meal.”

Albus came down and asked them to join him at the large table. “You can sit on my right today, Malcolm, if you would, as the wizard-of-the-hour,” he said with a pleased smile.

The two sat, and a few minutes later, Siofre, Murdoch, Poppy, and Johannes appeared in the doorway, Siofre on the German Herbology teacher’s arm. He led her to the long table, where Albus indicated that Siofre was to sit on his left, so Johannes held her chair for her then took a seat on the other side of Minerva. Slughorn, Wilhelmina, and Hagrid followed closely. With the rest of the staff already seated at various tables, as soon as Slughorn sat down on Gertrude’s right, Albus stood and the room grew quiet.

“I am very glad that so many of you could remain and partake of Hogwarts hospitality. Although I do not wish to delay you from your meal, I do wish to take a moment to welcome Professor Malcolm McGonagall to Hogwarts and to congratulate him on his outstanding performance this morning.”

There was polite, yet genuinely enthusiastic, clapping from everyone in the Hall. Malcolm smiled and nodded, looking up at Albus and thanking him, then he looked over at Gertrude on his right, and smiled at her. She gave him a small smile and a nod, but Malcolm didn’t care how small her smile was in public – he could make her laugh and smile in private, and he had had her smiling quite happily after her impromptu shower. Everything in life was brighter, better, more beautiful with Gertrude in it. Even the prospect of an entire year in one place didn’t give him cause to twitch or feel like Apparating away as fast and as far as he could. He had found his refuge and his peace in her, and he wished to be nowhere else that moment but by her side.

---

Note: I appreciated the reviews for the last chapter and that the story is continuing to hold the interest of a few people as it closes in on the end. Thanks for reading! There are a few more chapters left. RL is continuing to be very busy, though, so you still have time to savour these last installments of RaM!

[Hogwarts Duo]

At the risk of sounding cheeky…this was a BEAUTIFUL chapter…tee hee. I had a lot of fun reading this one and seeing all the different people interact with one another. You really do amaze me how you can write such a large story and yet give each character their own personality traits and little quirks. That’s a true feat of magnificent proportions. LOL

“He may have even stripped a few months from my own life with that stunt, I think!”

Minerva shook her head. She thought she had lost a few years of her life in those seconds between Albus’s disappearance in the flash of flame and his reappearance behind Malcolm.

I would have to concur with the ladies here on this one. I think if I’d been there I would have lost a few years off my life too. I can’t imagine watching the man you love disappearing in a ball of fire and thinking that your brother had completely wiped him off the face of the earth. Sheesh…talk about a show stopper….no pun intended! Okay, maybe just a little one. ;D

“So it is she who is making my grandson the respectable wizard, and not Albus,” Siofre said with a smile. She nodded. “That will be interesting to see.”

I find Siofre very amusing and a truly witty person. She sounds like she’d be a real fireball in her own way if given half the chance. I’m sure Minerva gets a lot of her spirit and personality from her Grandmother. I do hope we get to see more and more of her in the last few chapters of this story. She strikes me as a loving Grandmother but one who doesn’t smother her grandchildren with affection, though they all know she loves them very much. It’s evident she’s interested in seeing Malcolm settled but in other passages, it’s easy to see that she respects him as a grown man and wants others to treat him as such.

Eventually, after their relationship was more established, Minerva supposed she wouldn’t mind her knowing, but right then, it felt peculiar, and more so after having seen Albus and Siofre interact as they had. It had been a sharp reminder to Minerva of all of her own insecurities about her youth compared to Albus’s age, something she had nearly forgotten in her attempts to relieve Albus’s insecurities and in her joy at their new relationship.

Oh dear. I’d been so caught up in seeing that Albus got over his insecurities and doubts that I’d completely neglected to see things from Minerva’s point of view. She’s done such an amazing job of helping Albus overcome his obstacles that I dare say she hasn’t had any time to work through her own issues. Though, it’s evident from their picnic the day before, that both of them are quite comfortable in their relationship and speaking of sex and past partners. That’s always a good step.

Albus’ concerns about another dark wizard, namely Voldemort, looming in the distance was very sad and prophetic. It’s sad to know that even when they’re at their happiest, there’s always a piece of Albus that is looking for the dangers and evils in the world. I’d imagine it’s an incredible price to pay for being so powerful and always wanting to do what’s right by those who entrusted him with so much social power. Still, it's sad to read this section and know he's speaking specifically of Tom Riddle/Voldemort and then to have the advantage of being able to look ahead and see just how right Albus was in regards to Voldie.

I had to laugh at Albus when he mentioned Poppy wanting to give him an exam after the duel. I bet his mind was racing with ways he might possible side-step the examination and have her do only a simple spell or two just to make sure he was fit as a fiddle. I don’t see how Minerva managed to keep a straight face but I’m glad she did. It would have been really embarrassing for Albus, I’m sure, to think that she was making light of his serious concerns. I’m glad she agreed to speak with Poppy on the matter so that Albus won’t have to worry about it. It’s a very sensible thing as well, in case something should happen they at least have a confidante in Poppy.

The bit with Malcolm and Gertie was especially fun to read. It’s nice to see Gertie in a different light given the way she was presented (granted it was through Minerva’s jealous eyes) earlier in the story. She and Malcolm really seem to be well suited and I’m happy for both of them.

“Hmmph. Let’s get up to my room,” Gertrude said with a small grin. “And I would say that I caught you, Malcolm.”

“Yes, you have, you most certainly have,” he said, accepting her hand as he got to his feet.

Those two bits sum it up quite easily. I’d say they’ve both been caught and they’re enjoying the game as much as they are the reality of being together. They’re so playful, it makes it fun to read because you never know what they’re going to get up to next.

The "shower scene" was priceless. It's fun to see Gertie letting go of her worries and her reserved persona and having some fun with Malcolm. And what a naughty little wizard he is...tricking her about the flannel and then she'd have no choice but to shower with him and take care of ...well...the swelling....tee hee. Fantastic!

Once again, you’ve given me quite a wonderful little break from real life and I am going to be so sad when this story is over. I can’t wait for the next chapter as I’m anxious to see what happens next. I’m sure I won’t be disappointed. Merlin knows I haven’t been disappointed yet!!

Cheers,
GLM

[Lamenting Quill]

Yay! Glad to have update, dear, thanks! That was great as always. Gertrude and Malcolm are so great together Can't wait for the next!

Cheers,

~Mandi~

[Merriam]

Wow! It has been SO LONG since I've reviewed . . . but I thought I'd drop a line. I have been somewhat out of commission due to illness and RL complications, hence the extended period of absence. However, I thought I'd drop by to tell you that I continue to enjoy this amazing story, and I eagerly await each update. I'll be sad to see the end of RaM . . . it's been a great year.

[minerva62]

Great chapter as always!
I like it when Albus calls Malcolm "my boy" and Malcolm calls Albus "boss". That's so cute! ;D
I also liked Blampa's part in the last two chapters. It's so funny when she says:"Okey-Dokey"!

Loved the banter between Gertrude and Malcolm, including the shower scene...

Looking forward to Albus' and Minerva's holiday. Somehow I guess they will finally go to Albus' cottage...

[esoterica1693]

Albus was worried that he frightened her? Prize for the understatement of the day! Quite an impressive trick on his part but, yes, he peeled years off the lives of many witches, wizards, and online muggles!

Very sweet that he chooses to hang out w/ her before lunch...the yew and the ivy, supporting each other. And the way that they just gently caress each other and chat...they will need to find ways of doing this sort of thing--little 5-10 minute TLC breaks sans heated passion--lots during the school year, so this scene is very good.

Hmmm....two Profs. McGonagall now....a good excuse for Albus to use Minerva's first name more often. <g>

Malcolm and Gertrude together are quite something...I'm liking this side of Gertrude.

And the conversation w/ Poppy--I hope we get to eavesdrop on that one! Albus was so cute w/ his concerns about her diagnostics!

Another great chapter.

Now off to clean up the messes from a prolonged hairball incident from my own sweet tabbycat. I presume cat animagi have spells or potions to deal w/ such things, if they have to remain in their animagus form for long periods!

[MMADfan]

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

CLVI: The Silent Knight’s Tale

Minerva sat in her study and caught up on her correspondence while she waited for Albus. Her conversation with Poppy hadn’t been as awkward as she had feared. She could see that Poppy had questions, but Poppy could see that they wouldn’t be answered, so she didn’t ask them. In time, they would talk more, but not yet. Minerva had made it clear that she and Albus wanted to be very discreet and limit the number of people who would know, and Poppy had lit up at that, knowing that she was one of the few people being entrusted with the knowledge of their relationship. She promised that she wouldn’t treat them differently in public, even if it killed her, and said she was very glad that she and Albus had truly become closer. She did have a few questions about Malcolm and Gertrude, but they were not too intrusive, so Minerva was happy to tell her when the two had begun seeing each other, and when she had first learned of the relationship, though not how. Minerva was left with the impression that Poppy had, indeed, been less surprised by Minerva’s revelation than she had been by Malcolm’s attachment to Gertrude, and hers to him.

She had met Albus in the corridor outside the infirmary, and she told him that Poppy was ready to see him. She hoped that her smile had conveyed that their conversation had gone well, but he still appeared apprehensive. Probably just his discomfort with having the mediwitch examine him. He did seem rather sensitive about it; Minerva found his embarrassment cute and somewhat amusing. In some ways, he was very bold, but in others, he was quite shy, and it was a lovely combination, she thought.

Minerva turned back to her letters, trying to concentrate, but her thoughts kept wandering back to Albus, to the unbelievable fact that he loved her, that he wanted her, that they were really together. The wizard whom she had loved for more than fifteen years loved her. The most powerful wizard in Britain, possibly in the world, and certainly the kindest, most wonderful wizard, loved her and wanted to be with her. He missed her when they weren’t together, and he wanted to steal every spare moment to be with her. Minerva couldn’t be happier.

Then her thoughts turned to the coming school year, and her heart was torn. Minerva was excited to be the new Head of Gryffindor, to be teaching all seven years of classes, her first full year as the Transfiguration instructor. But she was not looking forward to having so much less time to spend with Albus. If she were only teaching, it would be easier, but being Head of House, she would have to be available to the students. There were many new duties that she would have, and there would be unexpected problems and emergencies that would arise at all times of day and night. As Headmaster, Albus was hardly more free than she, but it wasn’t just that he was Headmaster, he had other duties, as well. A sinking sensation came over her. How would they cope? Particularly if they were being discreet, keeping the relationship private.

Minerva sighed and set down her quill. At least they would be going away for a few days. And there would be next summer. Ten months away. Even Christmas wouldn’t be their own. As Head of House, she would be expected to remain at the school over the holiday, particularly if there were any Gryffindors staying on. But she wouldn’t want to leave, anyway, if Albus couldn’t be with her, which he couldn’t, as he had to be there over the holiday, as well. Most of the time, though, Albus actually had fewer restrictions on his time than she would as Head of Gryffindor. He was very busy for many hours a day, but he was more in control of how those hours were scheduled than she would be.

But they would also be working together, and that would be satisfying. If Gertrude was serious about giving up her role as Deputy next year – and it did seem the older witch wanted to return to just teaching – that would also allow her to spend more time working with Albus. Yet another reason to keep their relationship under wraps. Too many people would be very fast to assume that it was only her personal relationship with the Headmaster that accounted for any of her successes at Hogwarts. As it was, people might still assume some kind of favouritism, since she had been his student and protegee. Eventually, they would be able to be more open about their relationship, she assumed, but for now, it was simply best that people believed them to be friends, perhaps even just casual friends.

It had proved less difficult to behave normally during lunch than Minerva had anticipated. The environment and the other staff present did bring her back into the reality in which she was a member of Hogwarts staff and the new Head of Gryffindor. She had actually found it interesting to talk with both Grandmother Siofre and Albus together, and not as awkward as she had feared. She hadn’t known that her grandmother was one of only a handful of witches to take Defence through her NEWTs, and the only Ravenclaw witch for a few years. It apparently was not considered quite the done thing for a witch in those days, and most quit once they had finished their OWLs. Those witches who did continue through their NEWTs were usually Gryffindors. What’s more, Siofre had excelled in it, which Minerva had also not known. She had been aware that Siofre was very good at Arithmancy, Transfiguration, and Charms, and that she was quite a powerful witch, too, of course, but it had never occurred to Minerva to wonder or ask about any other subjects. Siofre dismissed Minerva’s expressed admiration, saying with a shrug that she was a Tyree, and all Tyree witches excelled at Defence. It was nothing at all remarkable. Siofre confirmed that she’d been practising with Malcolm over the last week or so in preparation for this day.

“Strategy, chiefly,” Siofre explained. “He needed to think strategically, since he certainly couldn’t outmatch his opponent in strength or ability. He still wasted too much energy moving around as he did. You would think he believed he was at a dance, not a duel. But he acquitted himself well, nonetheless.”

Johannes leaned over and asked her about how she had assisted Malcolm with his preparations. He smiled at the older witch. “So, I saw today why he was asking the questions he did about the wards, the grounds, and what he could do in the Quidditch stadium. Were those spells something you suggested?”

“Nae, we merely worked on timing, strategy, different combinations of spells that might work well together,” Siofre replied. “The spells are his own.”

“But he could not have counted on your fire trick, Albus,” Johannes said, looking over at the Headmaster.

Malcolm, who had been listening to the conversation, shook his head. “I don’t know how I could have been prepared for something like that. It was totally beyond my ken. A wizard turning to flame, nothing but ashes left, and then, there he is, behind me, completely whole and unsinged.”

Johannes smiled. “Ja! Ich weiss woher ich stamme! / Ungesättigt gleich der Flamme / Glühe und verzehr’ ich mich. / Licht wird alles, was ich fasse, / Kohle alles, was ich lasse; / Flamme bin ich sicherlich!” Johannes quoted.

Siofre looked up at Minerva. “Enlighten me, Granddaughter. You spent time in that country.”

Minerva smiled. “If I can remember what he said – and I have read it somewhere before, I think. Let me see . . .” She thought a moment, then recited,“‘Yes, I know whence I arise. Unsated like the flame, I consume myself and glow. All becomes light that I grasp, everything ashes that I leave. Flame am I, assuredly,’ Not a very precise translation, but . . . an apt quotation, I suppose.”

Siofre looked over at Johannes sharply, an eyebrow raised, her interest piqued. “Very apt, I would say. You knew what Albus was doing?”

“No, not at all,” Johannes said with a shake of his head. “But I immediately doubted that he had exploded as it seemed. Fire seems to like our Albus. I believed he was happy to see the fireball, that he welcomed it.” Johannes shrugged. “And that quotation came to my mind as soon as I saw him vanish in that flash.”

Minerva wished it had come to her mind – or that at least the doubt that had accompanied it had entered her mind. She had only been in shock and fear. She had doubted not what she saw, but she had doubted Albus. She should have known that, as Johannes had put it, fire seemed to like Albus, and that he would not have stood there and laughed if he were about to be hit by a fireball. Albus was somewhat eccentric, quirky, but not mad.

Now, sitting in her study waiting for him, Minerva had a passing sense that she had let Albus down in some way, that she should have had the faith in him that Johannes had shown. But it was from her love that sprang her doubt and fear. It seemed such a strange thing that her love of him should have blinded her to what Johannes had believed so easily. But Albus had come to her to see whether she was all right. He had seen her fear, and he had worried about her.

A small smile crossed her face briefly. Albus seemed more sensitive to her moods than he had been. Restraining his own feelings for her had seemed to have kept him from being able to be as aware of hers as he was now able to be. Minerva had no illusions that he would always know how she was feeling or what she was thinking, and it wouldn’t be fair of her to expect that of him, but it was good to know that he had noticed and he had cared enough to take the time to reassure her.

At three-thirty, Minerva heard a barking coming from the sitting room. Perhaps Gertrude had changed her mind and decided to come for tea, after all. But when she went out to the sitting room, the Knight bowed, and said, “The master of the castle is without and seeks the pleasure of your company, my lady.”

Minerva smiled. She waved her wand and opened the door. Albus was standing there, dressed in plain, sky-blue robes with silver trim. He stepped through, smiling as he saw Minerva.

“Good afternoon, my dear!” Albus took her hands and bent to kiss her cheek. “I was able to escape a little earlier than I had anticipated. I had hoped to find you in.”

They sat and Minerva offered him tea. “I’m not hungry, Albus, but if you would like something, I am sure Blampa would be happy to bring us whatever you would like.”

Albus chuckled. “I am sure she would, but no, I’m not hungry. I had a good lunch, and I snacked a bit from Quin’s basket of sweets. A cup of tea would be nice, though.”

Minerva heard someone clear their throat, and she looked up to see that the Silent Knight still inhabiting the landscape.

“My lady, may I serve you further?”

Minerva looked at Albus. “We did want to know what’s wrong with the portrait and hear his story.”

Albus hesitated, then nodded. “I had thought to introduce you to Hogwarts Heart this afternoon, but we can do that after dinner, instead. I would prefer to do it before we leave on holiday, since we will be installing Norman as Head of Hufflepuff on Wednesday evening, and I plan to introduce him to Hogwarts immediately after. You could join him, but . . . it is sentimental of me, but I would prefer it to be just the two of us. Especially as I still have some question about the way the wands might interact, and I would prefer not to have anyone else present if only because of that.”

Minerva smiled. “That sounds fine. I will call Blampa for some tea, then the Knight can tell us his story.” She looked up at the portrait. “Would you stay and tell us your story?”

The Knight bowed. “I serve my lady.” He removed his helmet, shaking out his long blond hair, sunlight glinting on it. “I shall be pleased to tell my story.”

Minerva called Blampa and asked for a pot of tea and a plate of ginger newts. When she turned back to look at the Knight, he had removed his gauntlets and soft leather gloves and was rubbing his hands, flexing his fingers.

The Knight smiled at them. “The apples may have no flavour here, but it is good to be freer to move about. But I shall serve you, my lady, as long as I am able.”

-/-/-/-/-

A very long time ago, when Hogwarts was still young and her stones still settling, I was in the service of a family, more prominent than some, less than others, and was set to the service of the youngest child of the family, a beautiful girl with raven hair, cheeks like apples at harvest time, and lips like the harps of angels. She grew in age and in beauty, and I, charged with her care and protection, accompanied her as she went through her days, and nights, I slept not far from her chambers, ever ready to serve. I observed her affection and her attachment to the old wizard who served her uncle’s house, and I saw how he visited more frequently than his occupation would warrant. Yet I thought little of it, for my mistress was charming and talented, a witch as her mother had been, and the wizard taught her the ways of magic.

This wizard, old, wise, and powerful, came to me one dawn. He had a task set for him by the lord whom he served, and he would be travelling in far off lands. He knew not when he would return. He asked me whether I was devoted to my mistress, and if I would serve her with my life. I swore I would, and he bound me by oath and by magic to the service of my lady. I had faith in my devotion and believed that the oath was unnecessary: I would never betray my mistress nor shirk my duty toward her.

The wizard departed, secure in the belief that my mistress was safe in my care. But as the weeks and the months went by, my devotion became love, and I pined for the attentions of my lady and laboured to become worthy of her affections. But daily, my mistress waited for word from the magician, and nightly she stood at the highest point in her father’s castle, looking out across the land. And it came to me that the one I loved, loved another, and jealousy grew in my heart as my tokens and my feats were greeted with a mild smile and her eyes turned always to the horizon as she awaited the return of the wizard.

My lady’s father had in mind that it was long past time that she be married. He had cosseted his youngest daughter, the image of his beloved wife, but as she attained her years, he began to seek a husband for my mistress. I presented myself to her, and begged her prettily to accept me and to speak with her father. When she did not, I petitioned my lord for her hand. He was sceptical, but would consider it, he said, despite my lowly status. Yet my lady told her father she would not marry me, nor would she marry any man, for she loved another. I watched as my lord grew impatient with his daughter as he presented suitor after suitor, and every one, she found lacking, but she would not say whom she loved.

Despite his affection for his daughter, my lord’s impatience overwhelmed him. He told her she must choose a suitor or he would choose one for her. I presented myself once again, but my lady would not hear my entreaties.

“I know whom you love, and he will not return for you. He does not love you as I do,” I told her, though I believed not my words. “Marry me, who loves you! Marry me, not the choice of your father!”

But again, she rejected me, and I grew angry and my jealousy grew. I forgot my oath and my binding, and when her father presented a lord, a cousin and twice a widower, and said that this man was to be her husband, and that she would be happy as the lady of her own manor, to care for his family, to order his household, I said nothing, though I liked him not, and his son, much less.

The date of the wedding grew nearer, and my lady slept not, watching the horizon in vain, waiting for her wizard, but my heart was hard. She came to me and begged me to save her, to take her from that place, to bring her to safety with her mother’s family. She promised me her own fealty in return for mine, but she would offer nothing more. And I stood and watched her married to her father’s cousin, and her tears moved me only to anger and jealousy. And I watched as she rode away that day, to be lady in her own household, and I returned to the service of her father.

My heart was heavy with grief and loss, and yet I told myself I had not broken my oath. My mistress was married, as all good women do. She would care for her family, she would forget her wizard, and she would bear her husband more children, and she would leave her magic for the things of this world and for a Christian life. But I grew more despondent, soon unable to eat or sleep; I sickened and was overcome by despair.

And then, in the depths of my despair, word came that my mistress was dead. None knew how, by her hand or that of another, but it was not by the hand of God. I lay on my cot, resting my sword at my feet and my shield on my breast, and I prepared for my death, for that was the only fitting end for me. Turning my face to the wall, I refused all food and all drink.

Three days after my mistress’s death, my retirement was disturbed. The magician had returned, two summers gone, and it winter now. The door blew apart and the wrathful wizard entered my small chamber. He stared down at me; his eyes were fire and his voice was thunder, but I did not need to hear his words to know his intent. My end was close, I believed. He would wreak his vengeance on me, punish me for betraying my oath and for allowing my mistress to die in misery.

He looked into my heart, unburying my memories, and he saw that I had refused my lady’s entreaties to bring her to the isle of her mothers, and he saw my love and how it had turned to bitterness, envy, and rancour. In his anger, he struck me with lightning from his staff, cracking my shield, upon which, despite my betrayal, my lady’s emblem still remained.

But an easy end was not for me. This mighty wizard cursed me terribly, as was only right and just, and laid upon me a heavy geas: until I found and served a lady, similar in heart, mind, magic, and spirit to my own mistress, and was truly willing to do all to defend and protect her and to lead her to happiness with her one true love, I would be unable to speak of myself or of my charge, I would be unable to make any connections with my fellows, to form friendships or to attain any human warmth from man or woman. I would be alone and isolated until I fulfilled my oath of service.

I laughed bitterly, and said that death would find me before I could fulfill my purpose. Was I condemned to be a ghost then, both while alive and then again while dead? Upon my words, the wizard cast the final curse, transporting me, body and soul, into a tapestry that hung in the hall of my lord. None knew I was there, and I could speak not of my state. The magician enchanted me with the ability to sense the magic of a witch and the vibrations of her soul, that I would recognise my new mistress when she appeared.

The wizard would visit the hall of my lord, then that of his son, and his son’s son after that, and each time he would stand before me and grant me leave to speak with him. I would tell him of all that had happened in his absence, and, in time, he would converse with me also, for we alone remembered now the lady and the times of my youth. His heart grew compassionate as his grief grew old, but he would not release me from the tapestry or from my geas. But in year after year and decade after decade, I saw no lady, no witch, whom I could serve to fulfill my fate. I grew no older, but I saw the magician fade and grow paler, his hair grow silver, and his step grow slower. His staff was no longer only an instrument of his power, but a support to his bent and halting body.

The day came when he told me that it would be his last visit to me, that he would soon pass beyond, hoping to find again his love. My own heart was heavy, for he had been my only companion, and the only living being to know the truth of my existence, that I was not merely an image woven in likeness to my former self, but that I was, indeed, alive within the tapestry.

The wizard took pity upon me, and he called to him a hound. He spoke in silence with this dog and turned to me and said that the creature had agreed to be my companion, faithful to me and to bear my fate with me throughout the long years to come, until my geas could be fulfilled and my debts atoned. And so Fidelio joined me, and I had a companion there in my barren world, though I saw the wizard no more.

The years passed, and my tapestry was moved to a manor house of a rich landowner. And still I waited, hanging there in his home, watching and listening as the girls of the house grew to womanhood, and as ladies visited, but few shared the magic of my own lady, and none were to be my mistress. One late night, many years after I had taken leave of my former life, I heard the sounds of cracking timber, and the scent of smoke was so heavy that even I within my tapestry could detect it. I sat beneath a tree, my arm about Fidelio, whose fear was great, but whose heart was strong, and I prepared for death and failure. Flames licked at the weft and the warp, but I was not consumed. I found myself with Fidelio, trapped within a painting in an artist’s chamber.

The artist awoke, startled to see that I and my hound had arrived as he slept, but the man was a magician, and though he sought unsuccessfully to determine my origin, he accepted my presence, detecting the magic within my image. He added new features to the painting in which I found myself, and sun shone down upon Fidelio and on me, and spring bloomed eternally. I spent lifetimes in wizards’ homes and across all those years, I found a few witches whose spirits rang a dull echo of that of my mistress, but none truly worthy and none with one true love, no wizard of power and majesty. Then I came to this castle, brought by a wizard who was fascinated with me, and whose magic and demeanor reminded me greatly of that wizard who had cursed me all those many years ago, but he was alone and there was no lady, no witch, such as my mistress. As time had passed, I had also become more aware of the magic around me, and here in this place, that ability grew. And witches came and went, young ones and old, and some were very much like my mistress, but not alike enough, and a very few were alike enough, but I had no ability to reach out and beg to serve them, and none had a true love of the ilk of my mistress’s wizard.

Long years more, and I was removed to the chamber where the teachers in this place meet, and no witches came who were like to my mistress. Then awake one day, I felt the sensation of my mistress moving in the world; she was there in the castle, my new mistress, the one whom I should serve. I knew it and recognised her. Not long after, I felt another arrive, a wizard, a magician of power and skill, and it seemed I recognised him, as well, but he knew me not and I could not speak to him, though I saw him often. And I waited and more I waited, but never did I see the witch to offer her my service. I felt her arrive and I felt her leave and then return again, and I felt her joys and her sorrows, but never did I see her. My longing to serve her grew, and as I felt her great sorrow and her pain, I wished I could leave my painting and seek her, to offer my service and my comfort, little though it might be, but my geas prevented that. Although I had seen that other portraits could leave their frames and visit others, even unto visiting me, I could not go beyond the bounds of my painting. Then the day came that the witch left the castle and did not return for many a long year, but for brief visits, and I was banished to a cold and lonely storeroom, to despair once more.

One day, not very long ago in this weary tale, that wizard who seemed so very like the magician whose curse I bear, came into the dark, closed room where I had lain, dusty and neglected. And I heard him speak, saying he was seeking the right painting for his new teacher, a special portrait for a special witch. He stood beside one, examining her, and fear leapt in my soul. I knew with certainty that this was to be my mistress returning to the castle, and despite my long years of silence, I found I was able to speak, and I offered my sword and my service. I knew then that this witch was to be my mistress, that I could speak was the sign of it. I would live for her, or I would die for her, but I would serve her faithfully, and I would fulfill my geas and my ancient oath. I would serve you, my lady.

CONTINUED!

[MMADfan]

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST

CLVI: The Silent Knight’s Tale, CONTINUED

Albus and Minerva sat there in silence as the Knight finished his story and bowed. They looked at each other. It was incredible, quite literally.

Minerva had a great many questions and objections to the story, but she voiced the first one that popped into her head, “You said that you couldn’t pass the borders of your painting, but you do that all of the time. Right now, in fact. You are in my landscape.”

The Knight smiled. “Yes, my lady. In your service, I am at last able to leave the confines of my canvas, but only in your service, not upon my own whim or desire.”

Minerva turned to Albus. “What do you think?” Her raised eyebrow said what her question did not: this was an unbelievable tale and there was something wrong with a portrait that “believed” it was alive and bound by a geas.

“I have never heard of anything quite like that being done . . . although there are legends which tell similar tales. But . . . I would not have believed such a thing possible,” Albus said slowly. “It is nothing that I could do, nothing that any wizard of my knowledge could do. Yet there is still something persuasive in his story. And as many advances as there have been in magical knowledge, there have been losses, as well. There is also no knowing what a wizard could do if truly enraged, what forces he could call upon . . .”

Minerva shook her head. She couldn’t believe, and yet . . . the Knight said he had felt her joy and her sorrow, her great pain when she was a student. He remembered her magic and had recognised her when she returned. Or that was one interpretation. It could just as well be that he had sensed some other witch, or that he had invented the entire tale. Dilys, after all, seemed to have the semblance of an imagination, and she was able to tat and crochet. It could be that the Knight was inventing this tale just as Dilys tatted lace collars and crocheted afghans.

“It is difficult to understand,” Minerva said, addressing the portrait.

“Difficult to believe, is what you mean,” the Knight replied. He bowed. “It is of no consequence. My geas will be lifted and my oath fulfilled. I know not what will happen in that moment when the curse is lifted, as I believe will occur when my geas and my oath are fulfilled, but I wished to tell someone my tale before that event.”

“How is this happening?” Minerva asked. She might not believe that the portrait was a living man condemned to centuries trapped in a painting, but she could believe that the painting itself had been charmed in some way; that was a relatively simple matter. If the painting had been cursed and the curse was lifting, she wanted to know what was causing the change.

“You approach happiness, you have joined in love with the wizard whose heart is devoted to you, who serves you, mind and body, heart and soul,” the Knight said. “I do not know what will finally fulfill the curse’s demands, whether it is something that I must do or something that may occur without my intervention, but I have not abandoned you, I have served you, willing even to do so in the face of my own ultimate destruction, and as I did so, I felt my strictures ease, but the greatest loosening of my bonds has occurred when I have done nothing, only waited for you as you were with your wizard. When you left the castle in your pain and grief, I could feel the geas weighing heavily upon me, and I knew that I must do aught I could to serve you, my lady, whatever your own fate or mine. My service would not waver.”

Albus looked up at the Knight, who was now petting Fidelio, running his bare fingers over the dog’s rough fur. “I will investigate this for you and see whether I can determine what will happen when the curse is released. Did the wizard ever make any indication of what would happen, say anything at all about it?”

“No . . . he did say once that he doubted that he would live to see the day, and he was correct in that. For a long time, in my grief and my guilt, I hoped I would simply die, but then I hoped that I could regain my life and enjoy all those things that this dull, painted canvas could not offer me. And now, it has been a long and weary existence, but it has been mine, and I have seen and learned much that no other has, and I have had the opportunity to serve you, my lady. The wizard’s curse took from me my age but not my years nor my growth in them. I would be happy now to step from the painting with Fidelio, to breath the air and feel the warmth of the sun on my face, and then to turn and die at your feet, my lady,” the Knight replied, bowing to Minerva.

“Perhaps we can find a way to release you, for you and Fidelio to leave the painting and live normal lives,” Albus said.

“And what would I do here with this life? I am no wizard, but I could not live in the world as I have seen it become. Where would I go and how would I live? No, I would prefer final release, but not out of despair, out of fulfilment. I have had a shadow life here in this painting, but it has been my own, nonetheless.”

“How old were you when you were cursed?” Minerva asked, not believing, but willing to enter into the pretense of belief.

“Nine and twenty summers I had seen. Four fewer summers had my mistress when she departed this world. After the magician’s final visit, I lost count of the years, and every season was much the same as any other, but it was ten times ten summers after her death that last I saw the magician and he gave to me Fidelio. He was old when he cursed me and ancient when last he bade me farewell.”

After Albus had asked him a few more questions about what he remembered of the wizard and the day that he was cursed into the tapestry, Minerva thanked him for his service and for sharing the tale and asked that he return to guarding her door.

When the Silent Knight had left, Minerva turned to Albus and asked, “Do you believe it then? That he is a living human being?”

“I do not know. It could be that the curse killed him, but he doesn’t remember the event and that the wizard created his image in the tapestry as a way for the knight to achieve vicarious satisfaction of his oath. And yet the way that he speaks of the geas . . . it seems he might indeed be a man and not a mere portrait.” Albus shook his head and a slight shudder passed through him. “Such a life, or half-life, living in a two-dimensional world, unable to communicate, one’s only companion, a dog, waiting for some confluence of circumstances to come together so that one could fulfill the terms of a curse, never aging, never able to enjoy the mundane pleasures of food, drink, friendship . . . that is, indeed, a dreadful curse.” Albus looked up at Minerva. “It is possible, though dreadful to contemplate. And I am reminded of stories that I have heard and read of similar curses. Although I would not be surprised to learn that I was wrong, yes, I believe, for now, or at least I will proceed as though I believe, and I will investigate as far as possible. It may be there is nothing that either of us can do directly, in terms of a counter-curse, to free him, but it would be good to understand it more, and to determine its truth.”

“It is quite disconcerting to think of me being the object of his attention, perhaps for years, if what he said means that he sensed my presence even when I was a student,” Minerva said with a furrowed brow.

Albus sighed and shook his head. “For now, let us put that aside. Come here to me,” he said, opening his arms for her to settle back into his embrace.

They sat in silence a while, and as Albus’s breathing grew even and his arms lax, Minerva felt him fall asleep. She Summoned her afghan from the bedroom, resettled him so that he was lying full-length on the sofa, his feet dangling off, then she extended the sofa so that it supported him entirely. Albus stirred only slightly as she raised his legs onto the sofa, a murmured breath crossing his lips, but his hand reached and found nothing, and his eyes began to flutter open.

Minerva took his hand and said, “Shh, shh, Albus . . . sleep. I am here.”

She kissed his cheek softly, then lay close beside him and spread the afghan over them both; his arms went around her again as he gave a sigh of contentment and drifted back to sleep.

-/-/-/-/-

Minerva sat between Johannes and Wilhelmina at the large round table that evening in the Great Hall. Several members of staff had stayed despite Albus’s letter saying that they didn’t need to return until Wednesday, so there were many more people at dinner than there had been in weeks.

Malcolm sat on the other side of Wilhelmina and talked to her about the job she was taking up in December and asked about the dragon they had brought to the school.

“Portkey,” Wilhelmina replied when Minerva asked how they had gotten it to Hogwarts without having Muggle dragon-sightings. The older witch took a moment to chew and swallow her steak – Minerva had chosen to forego the steak and was enjoying a haddock fillet with lemon and dill weed. “One Portkey here, and then another that brought her back. We just had to get close enough to toss it around her tail or leg – it was a Charmed rope – then we activated the Portkey. Geoffrey activated it, actually. Kettleburn then landed outside the grounds and Apparated to the preserve just to make sure it had all gone well. I heard from them a little while ago. Other than a broken ankle, Geoffrey made it back just fine, as did Isolde. That’s the dragon. They tried giving them numbers a few years back, but the handlers persisted in naming them, so they gave up that scheme.”

As Malcolm and Wilhelmina continued to talk about the dragons at the preserve, Minerva and Johannes talked about the day’s events, and Johannes expressed his curiosity about her Grandmother Siofre. He had never heard the Tyree name before, which was unsurprising, as he was German, and Minerva gave him an abbreviated and unsensational version of the Tyree reputation.

Johannes grinned. “Your grandmother, she has spark. And I do not think she likes fools.”

Minerva laughed shortly. “No, I would say that she doesn’t. Or ‘foreigners,’ by which she usually means English. You made a good impression on her, though.”

He shrugged. “I do not know. But I found her an interesting witch. I do hope not to anger her, however, after what you told me,” he said with a chuckle.

“Pish! That’s precisely how the mystique works – no one dares challenge a Tyree any longer.” Minerva paused then, thinking of her grandmother. “But you’re probably right. It’s probably best not to cross her.”

They both laughed at that, and Gertrude asked what they found so funny. She quirked a slight smile and agreed, saying that she could see some of Siofre in Malcolm.

Minerva finished her rice pudding and looked over at Albus. He wasn’t quite finished with his pudding yet and seemed deeply engrossed in conversation with Filius Flitwick. They had agreed to meet in his office after dinner. It looked as though Albus would be a while, so Minerva excused herself and went up to his office, where she removed Albus’s post from his Charmed owl box. The treats receptacle on the side was almost empty, so she found the rabbit-flavoured owl treats in Albus’s desk drawer and refilled it. She had just finished and was turning from the window when the door opened and Albus walked in.

His face lit up in a smile as soon as he saw Minerva. “Good evening, my dear!” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

“I did. Much more than I would have if I had eaten the bloody mess that Wilhelmina found such a treat.” Minerva made a face. “I suppose that soon we’ll be back to the usual school year fare.”

“Yes, but you can always request a different entree if there is something that you dislike,” Albus said. “The house-elves are happy to accommodate a teacher’s special requests.”

“There is usually enough variety at every meal that I can find things that I like well enough,” Minerva said with a shake of her head. She didn’t want to make a fuss. There was nothing wrong with the food, other than being a bit monotonous and heavy. And there was usually a choice of two different main entrees, so if she didn’t like one of them, the other was likely to appeal more.

“Are you ready to be introduced to the wards, my dear?”

“Yes – did you want to do anything more to test my wand first?” Minerva asked.

“No, I believe it will be quite safe, if a bit more powerful than usual. I wrote to Nicolas and Perenelle to request their advice, and they assured me that there should be no untoward effects,” Albus replied. He seemed to blush slightly. “They, um, they asked about you.”

“Did they? And what did you tell them?”

“I told them that I am a very lucky wizard,” he said softly. “And they are happy for me. They would like to meet you.”

Minerva nodded. She would like to meet them, too, she thought, although she couldn’t imagine what she would say to such an illustrious couple.

“They have mated wands, don’t they?” she asked.

Albus nodded.

Minerva looked up at him curiously and asked the question that had puzzled her since she had read of the Flamels’ wands. “Why didn’t you tell me about their wands when you told me about ours? You know them, after all. You worked with them. It seems as though it would be something you would at least mention.”

“I don’t know . . . I suppose thinking about their own long relationship made me feel uncomfortable,” Albus replied with a shrug. “I didn’t want to acknowledge even to myself what it was I wished for but that I believed was . . . inappropriate, and improper to even contemplate.”

“What did they say when they found out about the wands?”

“They have known about their existence since I obtained mine, of course. The only people whom I have told, other than you. I told them immediately,” Albus explained, his arms going around Minerva and pulling her closer to him. “I wrote them as soon as I left Ollivander’s with my wand. They assured me at the time that I would meet the witch or wizard whom the mate chose, and that our lives would be entwined in some way, but as time passed and the wand sat in Ollivander’s shop . . . I began to believe that my wand would pass on to another and when it did, then the other wand would also find its owner. I even spoke with Ollivander about making arrangements to will my wand back to the shop upon my death. But then I received the letter telling me that the ivy wand had found a young witch, and I wrote to the Flamels and told them the news. I was curious about how our lives would intertwine, but did not give it very much thought. I had been patient for sixty-six years; I could be patient a while longer. I assumed that at some point after you had left Hogwarts, we would meet and possibly work together. But then less than a year later, Headmaster Dippet wrote to me, and I met you much sooner than that.”

Albus closed his eyes a moment. His mind and his memory were overlaying an eager twelve-year-old Minerva onto the upturned face of the young witch in front of him. He held his breath and opened his eyes. He let his embrace loosen and cleared his throat. “You were a bright and pure-hearted child. I saw in you a yearning for knowledge similar to my own, but I knew that you would never fall into the ways that I had: you would never value knowledge or satisfying your curiosity over the lives and needs of those around you, and you would never suffer the pride and insecurity that had allowed me to invite a murderer into my mother’s home.”

“But you couldn’t have known – ”

“I did know, Minerva,” he said harshly. Somewhat more softly, he said, “I did know. I knew his character well enough.” He let go of her and turned away.

“I’m sorry . . .” Minerva put her hands on his back.

Albus shook his head. “He will do no more harm where he is now.” He turned and faced Minerva. “And perhaps before the end of his life, he will change. I doubt it. A man such as he, without a conscience . . . I don’t think he will ever develop one. I have seen no change in him. But I still continue to believe that he should have the opportunity to do so.”

“You have seen . . . you have seen him?” Minerva asked, astonished.

“I feel duty-bound. I visit him every year at Christmastime. Usually a few days before the holiday.” He chuckled. “I bring him a fruit basket, which he persists in believing I have poisoned, though his guards always check for such things, and I bring him books. I hope the edifying influence of the literature and history I bring him will help in his rehabilitation. Unlike the fruit, which he doesn’t touch, I understand he does read the books, though he never says anything about them. In fact, we barely exchange a word. He has gone beyond grunting at me when he sees me, but not much.”

“You bring him fruit?!” Minerva asked, her incredulity growing.

Albus nodded. “Mens sana in corpore sano, they say.” He smiled. “Perhaps one day, I will bring him that fruit basket, and I will find I have been able to forgive him. And myself. We shall see.” He took a deep breath and smiled brightly down at Minerva. “But now we are to move on to something much happier. The final act in your installation as Head of Gryffindor. After you have been introduced to Hogwarts in this way, the wards will always recognise you unless a severing ceremony is performed. That has only been done a few times in history, and never in the last two hundred years.”

“That’s why Wilhelmina can still hold the wards?”

“Yes, although in theory, I could actively pass them to anyone, they will only be passively transferred to someone who has been introduced by the blood ritual, and the ability of a person to manipulate the wards and to inject their own magic into Hogwarts or to draw on that magic is greatly enhanced by the introduction. I also doubt that a stranger would obtain as much information from them, either.”

“You mean if something were to happen, like when there was an explosion in the Potions classroom and Johannes was alerted?”

“Precisely. Not that the wards can detect everything that occurs in the castle, of course, and I never could discover where the . . . where the entity was that was attacking students, where it came from, where it went, how it obtained entry, but the wards were not disturbed at all. It was very troubling. I remained awake for hours, concentrating on the wards, thinking I would surely detect something, some change, but I never did. Only once, when Myrtle was killed, did I feel a slight rippling in the wards, but nothing that would indicate that something was amiss, and certainly nothing that would have signalled that a student had met her death. After you mentioned the girls’ toilet on the second floor and the drippy tap, I carefully examined the strands of magic flowing through that entire level of the castle, and oddly enough, I found they were actually stronger there. If anything untoward were happening on that floor, I could not understand why the wards would not alert me. But there was that whole ‘Heir of Slytherin’ business,” Albus said with a sigh, “and it occurred to me that perhaps the wards there were somehow protecting whatever this agency was. I never discovered its source, despite spending a good deal of time investigating it even after the attacks had stopped. So you must be aware that the wards are not infallible, nor impenetrable, and sometimes, you must trust to your own simple senses to inform you.”

Minerva nodded briskly. “That is often the case, although as Malcolm said this morning, appearances can be deceiving. Shall we get on with this, then? It is almost eight o’clock.”

“Of course. I will meet you there shortly, my dear,” Albus replied. “Go on in and wait for me. Or you may wait here, if you prefer.”

CONTINUED!