Love and Wisdom

[esoterica1693]

Part 3

After unpacking his few things in their guest room, Albus joined Nicolas and Perenelle in their living room for coffee and dessert. Nicolas’ gaze moved over the face of the wizard he had come to love as a son. Albus resisted the urge to look away. Nicolas was the one person from whom he kept no secrets.

“So, Albus, my dear boy. I haven’t heard of any problems at the School. And the Ministry is being no more idiotic than usual. What brings you to us in such a state? No sense wasting time on chit-chat when you’re so obviously upset. Just what is it that has your head totally askew?”

Albus blushed. “Actually, it sounds silly on its face. The problem is, I’ve fallen madly in love.”

“Congratulations!” Perenelle cried.

“That is very good news indeed!,” added Nicholas.

“No, it’s not, actually. You see, I’ve fallen in love with Minerva, my Deputy.”

Nicolas and Perenelle looked at each other and smiled. Soon neither of them could stifle their joyful laughter.

Albus looked absolutely crestfallen. “What are you two laughing about?”

“Oh, Albus. You’ve finally realized it!” laughed Perenelle. “It’s been clear for ages that you love Minerva. We’ve just been wondering when you would figure it out.”

“What?!”

“Just how long has she been your Deputy now?” Perenelle asked

Albus thought. “Twenty-eight months. Why?”

“Nicolas, you owe me ten galleons. You said two months, I said eighteen. That means I win.”

“You two had a bet on when I would fall in love with Minerva?!”

“No, not exactly. Only on when you’d realize it and tell us. You’ve loved her for years, my boy.”

Albus sat there with his mouth hanging open. He could not believe what Nicolas and Perenelle were saying.

The two ancients exchanged a look. Albus was not reacting as they had expected.

“I’m sorry.” Nicolas tried to smooth Albus’ mood. “Let’s leave what we have thought out of it. You said you have just fallen madly in love with her, and you experience this as a problem, and you’re clearly upset. What is the problem, exactly? Does she not love you in return?”

“Of course not! I mean, technically I have no idea, but I have no reason to think that she would. I’m her former teacher and mentor, her boss--for Merlin’s sake, I’m old enough to be her father or grandfather! I’m sure it’s never even occurred to her to see me as a love interest!

“And no, I haven’t even considered telling her how I feel! That’s why I showed up here in such a hurry—I am so far out of my mind around her that I can barely keep from making a fool of myself even at meals. The problem is that I can’t go on working alongside her until I’ve figured out how to get rid of these feelings.”

“But why do you have to get rid of them? Why not tell her how you feel?”

“I would think it’s obvious. Because it would destroy our friendship and our working relationship, both of which are essential to me and to the School. Even if she were interested in me, which I doubt, I couldn’t possibly be in a romantic relationship with my Deputy!”

“You would be far from the first, Albus. Of course it’s the kind of thing that can be exploited, but you and Minerva wouldn’t have to worry about that. You’re both too dedicated to the School and to each other’s well-being. You both have too much integrity. You’d be fine.”

They argued back and forth, Nicolas and Perenelle trying to get Albus to view his love for Minerva as a positive thing. Finally Albus played his last, highest card.

“I absolutely cannot believe you’re trying to get me to see a serious relationship with anyone, much less Minerva, as something I should pursue. You’ve lived long enough to know it’s just a matter of time before the next dark wizard plunges us into war, whether it’s Voldemort or someone else. And you can’t possibly have forgotten what happened to the last woman who let The Great Albus Dumbledore love her!”

This did silence the Flamels for several seconds

“No, Albus, we haven’t forgotten,” Perenelle said quietly. “We just thought maybe you’d see the possibility of such great love as being worth the risk.”

“NO! It’s not. Nothing could be. Sara and I loved each other as much as two people can, and yet what happened to her—I couldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, much less anyone I loved. It was in no way worth it.

“Don’t you see—precisely because I do love Minerva, we can’t mean anything more to each other than what we have always been—friends and colleagues! Anything more would put her at great risk, and I can’t do that. When war comes she’ll be at enough risk as my Deputy. If she were my love, requited or not--well, I might as well kill her myself at the start to save us both some of the torture.”

Nicolas spoke calmly. “If you were to get an owl right now that she was being held by that dark wizard you think will be the next Grindelwald, and that he would torture her unless you gave him everything he wanted, would you be able to sacrifice her for the greater good?”

“No. I would not be. I’d save her or die trying. Unless it was our students he was wanting access to. And I’d give her up then only because I know that’s what she would want—she would gladly die for the students, as would I. She wouldn’t want me to put any of them at risk for even a moment to save her. If I did she’d never forgive me. But if I let him have her, no matter the reason, I’d never forgive me.”

“So, how is that different from the scenario if you do tell her you love her, or if you actually both love each other? Seems like you’re both already compromised. She merely by being your Deputy, and you by loving her, whether or not she ever knows.”

“Nicolas, the Deputy job she took willingly, even knowing the negative attention I tend to attract. She’s read the file on Sara. Though, now that you mention it, I should probably remind her of the risks again, since the horizon is darkening, and make sure she still wants to be in that position. Give her the option to retire to her distillery safe and sound.” Albus looked thoughtful.

“And as for my being compromised by loving her so much—that’s exactly what I want help with. Loving someone this much is a luxury I simply cannot afford, for my sake, or hers, or the School’s, or the larger world’s. It is the one truly great cost of being who I am. As long as I have my magic, I simply can not have those sorts of relationships.

“You have to help me overcome my love for Minerva, precisely because I do love her. I know it sounds absurd, but you know I’m right.”

“You do have a point, Albus. But it’s late. Let’s sleep on this and return to the question tomorrow. In the meantime, let yourself enjoy being in love, at least for a few hours, eh? We won’t be at war before morning, regardless. Falling in love is meant to be a great feeling, if you let it.” Nicolas smiled at him.

After several more hours’ discussion the next day, Nicolas realized that Albus was absolutely immovable on the subject, and he had to admit he understood his reasoning. Even though he wanted to find some way around it, he could not.

“I’m sorry to have fought you so hard on this, Albus. It’s just that Perenelle and I want you to be as happy as possible. And Minerva obviously makes you happy, and she’d make you even happier if you could admit your love. I’m sure of it. But I understand your reasoning, and I will help you as you ask. I just wish I didn’t have to. I can see why you sometimes wish you were someone else, not The Great Albus Dumbledore, heir of Myrrdin.”

So Nicolas taught Albus how to dilute his feelings for Minerva enough that he could work with her, and be much less vulnerable to manipulation to protect her. It was a variation on Occlumency and on some of the skills Albus had first learned from Nicolas and the Ministry years before.

“Now, Albus, you will still love her. I cannot erase the love. You just won’t be absolutely captive to the feelings unless you let yourself be. If you do these exercises regularly, you should be able to interact with her as a friend. It’s not foolproof—if you go killing large bottles of whisky together after an emotional conversation, you’ll be no better off than you were before. Probably much worse, actually, because of the rebound of all those repressed emotions. You’d have no choice but to shag her silly.” Nicolas smiled at him.

“But now, so long as you don’t do anything foolish, you should be able to operate on a plane above your feelings for her, as it were.”

Albus spent the rest of the week practicing until the exercises were second nature, and role playing risky scenarios so he could avoid them before the emotions rebounded on him.

He returned to Hogwarts on Sunday morning, He was relieved when he entered the Great Hall for lunch and reacted to Minerva no more than he had some months previously. Thank Merlin, and thanks to Nicolas, he had his proper relationship with his Deputy back.

[esoterica1693]

January 1967

Albus took a quill and responded to the two invitations in his hand. A new Minister of Magic was being inaugurated and a ball was being thrown in her honour. The entire Who’s Who of the wizarding world would be there. In his elegant script he indicated that he and Minerva would be honoured to attend, that he would be coming alone but she would be bringing a guest. He sealed the envelopes with his school signet and put them in the courier pouch which the school raven was just taking.

“Minerva, of course you know we must both attend the Inauguration Ball. As punishment for our sins, as the muggles would say.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.

“No way out of it, I’m afraid. Minerva, in my capacity as your Headmaster, I must require your attendance, as much as I wish we could both avoid it.” He paused for a moment and swallowed nervously. “And in my capacity as your friend, I respectfully request that you bring a date. Not a safe escort, but an actual eligible wizard.”

“Albus!” The sudden fire in her eyes would have melted the thick ice covering the lake.

“Please don’t hex me, Minerva. But you must find a date. I’ve already replied to the invitations, saying you would—‘Minerva McGonagall and Guest,’ ‘Albus Dumbledore, alone.’

He felt the bolt of magic fly by his ear, almost close enough to part his hair, and there was a sudden scrabbling sound from the coat rack behind him. He turned. Minerva had transfigured his favorite hat into a field mouse.

“Fawkes! Lunch!” she said with glee.

Albus managed to transfigure the mouse back into his hat an instant before Fawkes’ talons caught it. The bird scowled at him.

“Albus, why is it that I must find a date, but you get to go alone?”

“I would think that would be fairly obvious. You know I am not open to having a serious relationship—the hazards of being The Great Albus Dumbledore and all that. However, no matter how much I make my status as a confirmed bachelor clear to whichever witch I ask to escort me, inevitably misunderstandings arise and feelings are hurt. Apparently my old-school gallantry sends them the wrong message. I simply won’t go through it again. You surely don’t want a repeat of what happened after the last Ministry Ball, do you?”

Minerva laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. That Howler provided more amusement than any mail call in decades. That morning has entered school legend.”

Albus had asked a widowed witch who had just joined the School’s Board of Governors to be his escort to the last Ball. He had made it abundantly clear that he was asking her to escort him simply as a school duty on both their parts, and that the Ball was in no way a “date.” However, she had, like many witches before her, thought that surely she would be the one to charm Albus out of his bachelorhood. Her wishful thinking latched onto his exquisite manners and innate charisma as signs of his interest, and she had imagined he would surely see her again. After he politely but firmly rebuffed her increasingly persistent advances in the weeks after the Ball, she had sent him a Howler. She had instructed her owl to deliver it not to his office, but to the Great Hall along with the student mail delivery.

Faculty and students had sat open-mouthed as the letter smoked and flamed next to Albus’ plate and the witch’s voice shrieked at him, loud enough for the whole Hall to hear. She described, in detail but with her own wishful spin, his every chivalrous action at the ball, accusing him of being a total cad who had cruelly led her on. She had concluded by saying that she was withdrawing the generous pledge she had recently made to the School’s Magical Sports program.

Albus had turned the colour of the Howler but otherwise maintained his usual composure as he tried to exit the Hall with some shred of dignity. “Students, you see that even your Headmaster can still be flummoxed by certain social rituals. And Professor Aves, I am truly sorry that you will not be getting the promised new Quidditch brooms this year, after all.”

The handsome young flying instructor had stage-whispered to Albus’ retreating back, “But Headmaster, knowing what was at stake, surely in this instance you could have taken one for the team?!”

And that was when the Hall had dissolved in gales of laughter. Students and faculty laughed until they had tears streaming down their faces. It had indeed been the most entertaining mail call in decades

Dumbledore grumbled at Minerva. “Aves should’ve been glad he still had his job after that comment he made. Clearly he’s never met the witch in question.”

Albus had a scowl on his face but Minerva knew it was for show only. Once he’d gotten over the immediate humiliation, he had seen the humour in the situation and had laughed at it himself many times in the staff room.

She laughed. “Indeed he hasn’t met her. Though she actually did quite a service for school morale! I know my cubs in Gryffindor were quite consoled—if you, the greatest wizard in Britain, haven’t figured out girls and dating yet at age 110, they don’t need to feel such idiots when they bollucks up an evening at age 15!”

“That may be. But still, that whole debacle does illustrate the reason I’ve given up on asking anyone to accompany me to such events. Humourous or not, the truth is I managed to alienate a wealthy donor and School Governor, simply because I refuse to abandon the manners my mother taught me—that no matter the circumstances, a gentlemen ensures his date enjoys herself and feels appreciated. But apparently the distinction between good manners and romantic interest is easily missed when one’s date is routinely hailed as the most eligible wizard in the kingdom. No, I will not risk making any more enemies, personal or professional!”

“Albus, you’ve justified why you won’t be bringing anyone, but you still haven’t explained why I have to. Or why we can’t be each other’s escort and solve both challenges simultaneously.”

“Because.”

“Come on. That line didn’t even work for my parents after I turned 10.”

“Well then….We can’t go together because there is already enough gossip about our close working relationship. If we were seen as a social couple, even at a Ministry Ball, Witch Weekly would have a field day. I will not be the occasion of insults to your integrity or merit. To be blunt, I will not have them say the most talented and professional witch I know slept her way into her job. Or that the Hogwarts Headmaster demonstrates favoritism among his staff. And you know that is exactly what they would say.”

And we cannot go together because I could not possibly spend an entire evening so close to you without falling head over heels in love with you all over again, he added to himself.

“And, Minerva, you cannot go alone because you surely don’t want to get trapped with every boorish wizard from the Ministry who will try to flirt with you and monopolize you. And because one of the most lovely and eligible witches on the invite list should not have to attend alone. And because spending over ten months a year in this isolated castle means you have to seize whatever opportunities present themselves to get to know other people better.

“But most of all, because as your friend I want you to have a good time, even if you are there for work. You are a young, attractive, talented witch. I’d like to see you enjoy yourself as much as possible--not just at Ministry Balls, but in every part of your life.”

Minerva glared at him. They had had this conversation at least biennially since that luncheon over a decade previously. “Albus, we’ve been down this road before. I won’t waste my breath debating you—you know my arguments by heart. Cue Rebuttal #62, ‘Deputy Perfectly Content with Her Life As It Is.’ ”

“Well, then, Minerva, you can cue my Reply 63 A, ‘One evening in the company of an eligible wizard will not kill you. You might even enjoy yourself.’

“Minerva, you will bring someone. As your Headmaster I actually can require that much, in the interests of the image the school requires its faculty to project. Of course I can’t specify the kind of person you should bring. But, as your friend, I can at least beg that it be someone other than Alastor or any other ‘safe’ date.

“Very well. I’ll page through my little black book and find a date.”

“Good. Thank you very much.”

The next day Minerva knocked on his door. “Albus, I want to tell you who I’m going to ask to the Ball, in case you object.”

“I don’t have veto power over your date!”

“In this case you do, actually. I’d like to ask Prof. Aves. But he’s my subordinate, so I’m supposed to inform you.”

“Oh, I think you two would have a great time together. Thank you for telling me, though—you’re right, technically it’s the sort of thing I need to know about. I do hope he says yes—you’ll make a smashing couple on the dance floor.”

Albus smiled as she left. Though he would ordinarily hope that she’d look further afield than the staff room, Aves was actually a very good choice. Both of them shared a passion for Quidditch and flying, and he was witty and well-mannered and rather good-looking. He was also minorly famous, having been the Edinburgh Eagles’ star Seeker until an exceptionally dirty play in a World Cup match had knocked him off his broom and into St Mungo's for months, and ended his professional career. If he escorted Minerva she’d be the envy of many of the witches at the Ball.

[esoterica1693]

February 1967

Albus was enjoying himself at the Inaugural Ball as much as it was possible to do at such an event. He alternated dancing with the tedious but necessary conversations with various influential Ministry officials which his position required. Raising funds and lobbying for the School’s interests were always his primary tasks at such events. He rewarded himself with a dance after each particularly challenging conversation.

Social dancing had been his main form of recreation for years. It was the only way in which The Great Albus Dumbledore conceded that he was a wizard in a corporeal body which needed to experience joy and freedom and movement and contact with other bodies.

He spent one afternoon each week at the Ministry. Afterwards he would transfigure his appearance so that he would not be recognized and head for one of the several dance societies that met throughout the city--usually muggle groups but occasionally wizarding ones. He spent the evening swirling around the dance floor, leaving all the cares of the Ministry and the wizarding world behind for a precious few hours. At first he focused on classical ballroom dances, but had broadened his repertoire to include swing, tango, and on his more adventurous nights, salsa.

He, or rather his alter ego David Jones, became well-known in the local dancing scene as an expert and considerate lead. He and his favorite partners entered, and often won, local competitions. One summer he had even spent two weeks on the grand Cunard liner Queen Mary as a “gentleman host.” He had enjoyed the dancing and socializing tremendously, although a fortnight without being able to use the slightest bit of magic had eventually been wearing and he did not sign on for any more cruises.

Occasionally he and a partner would extend their evening significantly beyond the dance floor, and he would awaken the next morning in her flat. But these assignations were infrequent—and after he realized the extent of his love for Minerva they gradually ceased altogether. He found he could not be with another woman or witch even casually when all the thoughts and dreams in his mind featured Minerva.

His dancing skills served him well at events such as the Inaugural Ball. He never lacked for a partner whenever he moved towards the floor. He finally checked off the last of the names on what he called ‘his political bingo card’ and was at last free to socialize with the people he wanted to see, rather than those he had to see.

He saw the Flamels standing on the opposite wall and made his way to them. “Excuse me, Nicolas. May I have the pleasure of a dance, Perenelle?” As he waltzed her around the floor for two dances in succession they kept up a steady commentary on the other guests.

“If Bagman doesn’t get away from that punch bowl, they’re going to have to fish him out. His wife will have to Side-Along Apparate him home as it is. That woman has more patience than I would. I guess he doesn’t have to watch his diet in the off-season.”

“Malfoy is as insufferable as ever. I saw him bending the new Minister’s ear for quite a while. That can’t be good for the School.”

“No. Oh, I see your friend Alastor cleans up nicely.”

“He does.”

“Still a bachelor?”

“Quite. As far as I know he hasn’t been involved with anyone since he and Minerva broke it off over ten years ago.”

“He and Minerva were together? Do tell!”

“For a time. She wanted it to be more, at least at first. But I think he’s too haunted by what he saw in the War to ever let himself get close to anyone, even as a friend, and certainly not anything more. Last time we talked he said he still has nightmares, twenty years later. I understand his keeping to himself. I just wish he hadn’t been so damn persuasive on the subject to Minerva. He convinced her she had to choose between professional competence and personal satisfaction. Plus, what you love you might lose, so better not to love at all. Losing her parents so young and tragically, followed immediately by the War, already had her leaning strongly in that direction. Being under Alastor’s sway just reinforced it.”

“Speaking of Minerva, she looks absolutely amazing tonight. Is that Mark Aves the Quidditch star she’s with?”

“Yes. He’s our Flying Instructor now. All the female students swoon over him. I had to practically order Minerva to find a date for the Ball, but she certainly chose very well once she resigned herself to the necessity of it.”

“Have you two danced?”

“No. Mark’s keeping her well-entertained. I am content just admiring her from afar.” Albus’ eyes twinkled.

“You should ask her.”

“Are you crazy? My self-control has its limits, especially where Minerva is concerned. And with her in, or should I say only partly in, that dress, I think my limits are even more pronounced.”

“Oh, come on, Albus. Surely you can manage one waltz with her. If you don’t, she’ll feel slighted, and rightly so. She is your Deputy, and she’s only here because her job requires it. You have to dance with her at least once. I’m serious. You’re not one to neglect your manners.”

Albus returned Perenelle to Nicolas as the band shifted into a slow number and went to speak with Alastor.

“Perenelle was just saying how handsome you are, Alastor. I think she’d ask you to dance herself if she weren’t afraid of being called a cradle-robber.”

“At her age anyone but Nicolas is cradle-robbing. What are they, over 600 now?”

“Yes. And still in love. Quite amazing. Most of us can’t manage love for 10 or 50 years, but they’ve been together over half a millennium.”

“Sounds like a nightmare to me.”

Dumbledore laughed. “I guess it would to you, Alastor. Commitment’s not exactly your style.”

“No, it isn’t. Speaking of….my oh my, Minerva looks good tonight. And that chap looks good on her. Are they an item?”

“Not yet. Maybe they will be. One can always hope.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“I mean I’d like for Minerva to find someone, and Mark might be a good match.”

Alastor stared at Dumbledore with one raised eyebrow.

“Then I guess you’d better dance with her while you still can, Dumby.”

“What is it with folks wanting me to dance with Minerva? Perenelle insists I must ask her for the next dance or she will be insulted.”

“I’d listen to Perenelle if I were you. She must have figured out some things in 600 years. You sure you want Minerva to find someone? Really?”

“Of course I do! She has spent too much time with the likes of you and me. She deserves to love and be loved.”

“There you go again with your goddamned love thing, Albus. Can’t you just give it up? It makes you sound like such a sap. Moody’s Maxim: Get laid when you need to--hell, get laid even more than you need to--but forget about love. Trust me. ”

“I do believe you’re pissed.”

“Of course I’m pissed. How else am I supposed to endure an event like tonight? Surely not sober? Major Ministry politics under the guise of social niceties. Almost worse than love. Anyway, looks like they’re getting ready for a fast one. Go out there and sweep Minerva off her feet. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh, like that’ll really keep me in line. Well, here I go.”

“Minerva, may I have this dance?”

“Of course. I was wondering where you were. I haven’t seen you all night.”

“Filling my bingo card. Just pried myself away from the last Wizengamot elector a little while ago.”

The song was a very energetic swing number. Not exactly what he had anticipated, but a nice change from the waltzes he’d been doing earlier. He led Minerva through an ever-faster series of twists and spins and dips.

“I’m glad you asked me to dance this particular number. Mark’s a decent dancer but this would have been beyond him.”

“Hmm.” Minerva was actually an excellent dancer, able to execute every spin and dip he led her into. The time spent as a feline gave her exceptional flexibility and balance even in her human form. She followed his lead perfectly, seeming to know exactly what he wanted her to do. He became more aggressive.

Out and back, closed to open and then closed, upright then swooping back, spinning, spinning, arms sliding along waists, necks, shoulders, swinging hip to hip and then arcing away fingertip to fingertip, all with fierce energy and connection. Yes, this was Albus and Minerva’s dance.

On the final measure he swept her into a dip so deep that she was well beyond horizontal and leaned close over her. They held the dip for two long counts and then he pulled her upright, to the energetic applause of the couples around them. Before leading her off the floor he looked into her eyes with a gaze so intense she felt it in her core.

He guided her back towards where Aves was waiting.

“Thank you, Albus. That was incredible. I had no idea you could dance like that.”

“Nor I, you. Thank you, my dear.” His voice was husky. He returned her to her date with a slight bow and then headed towards the buffet table.

Aves looked at his Headmaster and Deputy with a calculating gaze. Clearly his budding plans to ask Minerva out again were dead on the vine. He was no fool. Getting in between his boss and Minerva was not a wise career move. Obviously their relationship was not public, but he wasn’t about to trifle with it.

It took an extraordinary amount of focus for Albus to not turn back and take Minerva into his arms. He quickly filled his hands and mouth with hors d’oeuvres. He dared not dance with her again, but he could not watch while she danced with anyone else. He finished his food and made his way out of the building to the nearest apparition point.

[esoterica1693]

Part 1

1972

“What are you so focused on, Albus?” The two were in his study keeping each other company as they worked through their respective paperwork.

“The resolution modifying the Unspeakable Vows that I’m tabling at the Wizengamot next week.”

“Modifying them how?”

“Eliminating the vow of celibacy.”

“Well, that should make you incredibly popular with present and future Unspeakables. You’ll be their hero. But I doubt that’s your rationale. Why do you think the vow should be discarded?”

“Because I think it is counter-productive at best, and horribly hypocritical and cruel at worst. Here we have a group of people dedicated to protecting and furthering the mysteries of Love, yet we forbid them to know and express two of the most profound kinds of love--love for a spouse or child. How can they understand the subtleties and challenges of love in theory if they’ve never experienced it in practice?”

“What about the argument that their jobs are so risky that having a spouse could compromise them, and put the spouse at risk?” Minerva countered.

“I used to think that argument made sense. And it does in some rare cases. I won’t deny that. But, frankly, few of the Unspeakables are truly guarding anything worth that level of sacrifice. And their identities are not known beyond the Department. They just won’t be targeted that personally. They may be attacked en masse if he gets into the Ministry building, but no one of them has enough knowledge to be an individual target.

“And even if they might be, I think it’s only fair to let them choose themselves whether or not they feel the risk is too great to have a spouse. Not be forced into taking the vow when they’re still so young. Some who enter service direct from Hogwarts have never been in love before they’re asked to give it up for life, yet they will never have a role in the Department above a mid-level bureaucrat. Love is too important to throw away unnecessarily.”

“You really believe this? Or is this just the latest salvo in your guerrilla war against the Department of Mysteries?”

“I do believe it. Strongly. As much as I’ve ever believed anything.”

“Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.” McGonagall looked over her glasses at him as if he was a first-year.

“What on earth does that look mean?”

“I simply find it fascinating that someone who believes it is misguided to demand a promise of celibacy from people in risky jobs has himself not been on so much as a date in over 25 years. Despite being a fixture on the Most Eligible Bachelor Wizards list.”

“You should talk. I don’t think you’ve been on one in 20. School functions don’t count.”

“Ah, but at least I am consistent. I have always said, at least ever since Alastor and I broke it off so long ago, that I believe that some positions de facto require sacrificing any personal life. My job as an Auror definitely did. I agree with Alastor in that. And I also know that love leads to loss. Those who do not want any more loss in their life should not fall in love in the first place. I’ve seen what loss can do to someone. There are some things in which I do not wish to be my father’s child, Albus.” Her voice had fallen and she looked away from him.

She continued after a moment, her voice composed once again. “And it’s really not been a concern--since I’ve been at Hogwarts, I’ve been so content I haven’t felt anything lacking in my life. Hundreds of students, a score of colleagues, teaching, writing….being considered the leading authority in my field, knowing I’m making a real difference...

“You, on the other hand, Albus, are not consistent. You urge Unspeakables to live and love more fully, to have committed relationships, while you yourself studiously avoid doing any such thing. The Great Albus Dumbledore remains alone. That’s what I find fascinating.” She put her quill down as if she’d just won a debate.

“Minerva, I’m not inconsistent at all! I said I thought restraint was still appropriate in some cases, depending on the job. And that the person should be allowed to choose or decline the vow. In my case I am a much bigger target than any Unspeakable might be. That rather makes my caution appropriate. I have freely chosen the limits I live under. And it’s been an informed choice.

“I have loved, and I have lost—you know that. I am willing to lose again—perhaps that’s where we differ the most, Minerva. But I am not willing to ask others to lose or suffer because of me. I know too well the risks my name poses. In my second century I choose to cease putting others at risk on my account. But that is different from putting an 18 year-old under life vows. And besides, how do you know I haven’t loved more fully?”

“Albus, don’t you think I’d notice if you had some woman in your life? We spend too much time together for you to have that big of a secret. No chance of it.”

“Oh, but there are different ways to love,” Dumbledore said quietly.

“There has been a special woman in my life, since Sara. Only one, but a very special one. A witch I could not bear to lose. But, ironically, loving her has meant not having her in my life the normal way. I love her very much. Have for years. But it is not meant to be a conventional relationship. First, our jobs are utterly incompatible. To be together one or the other of us would have to give up our work, about which we are both passionate. I can’t ask her to do that for me, and I can’t do it myself. I love her too much to ask her to sacrifice her passion for me.

“And then there is the risk factor. I can never risk having her suffer as Sara did. I love her far too much. You will never see us together socially. I don’t even speak of her as my beloved, because it would serve no purpose, and even that would have its risks. Voldemort would use her to get to me and the School if he ever knew. I would die for her, I would give up anything for her. But what you and others don’t know about me can’t be used to hurt me, or her, or anyone else.”

Dumbledore’s voice was breaking at this point. “So to you, and to everyone else, my life may appear long empty of great love. But you would be simply looking in the wrong place, trying to fit love into too small a box. Oh Minerva, I do love. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

She was shocked to see tears rolling down Dumbledore’s cheeks. She didn’t know what to say.

“Albus, I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t know. All these years I’ve known you, worked beside you, I guess I assumed, I thought I knew , it was so obvious—you’ve given up on love, didn’t have it in you.”

“Yes, Minerva, you assumed. Well, you assumed wrong. You don’t know every piece of my life. Don’t you ever dare lecture me on love.” His voice was suddenly strong again and bore tinges of anger. “Now please leave my office.”

Minerva began gathering her parchments, her hands trembling.

“Please leave this office now. I’ll send a house elf along with those later, Professor. Good night.”

He opened the door for her with wandless magic and she felt a wave of energy literally pushing her towards the threshold. She stammered, “I’m so very sorry. Good night, Headmaster.”

Minerva ran down the spiral staircase. By the time she exited past the gargoyle she was in tears. She transformed into her feline form and ran pell-mell through the corridors to her rooms. In more than fifteen years of working together at Hogwarts, well over thirty if you counted back to her starting Hogwarts as a student, Albus had never so much as raised his voice in anger at her, and now he’d literally thrown her out of his office in fury. She had obviously hurt him horribly. Transforming back to her human form, she threw herself through her own portrait hole and collapsed on her bed, sobbing uncontrollably. “Oh, Albus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Albus, my dearest Albus, what have I done?”

As soon as he heard her go down the staircase, Albus closed the door and cast elaborate silencing and locking charms on it.

“Dammit, Minerva. You would mock me because I have avoided love? That is too rich. For years I have curbed my heart to protect you. Guarded my thoughts, my words, my reactions. Spent my nights alone because I could not bear to have another in your stead. Ached with love unspeakable. Oh, indeed how I have avoided love, Minerva. If only you knew the half of it.” He put his head down on his desk and his shoulders shook with sobs.

Pulling himself together after a time, he reached into his liquor cabinet and pulled out a large bottle of his favorite non-McGonagall whisky. 'It’s a shame to waste good whisky like this, but it’s all I have.'

He waved his wand at her parchments and snapped his fingers for his house elf. “Take these to Prof. McGonagall’s office. Do not speak to her if you see her. And tell Filius that I will not be down for dinner. If McGonagall doesn’t show up either, he should start the meal without us. Thank you. Oh, and come to my rooms in about two hours. You can put me to bed then. I’ll need it.”

He opened the bottle and put it directly to his lips as he walked to his private chambers. He waved his robes onto a chair and conjured a dressing gown. He then proceeded to drink himself into a blind stupor as quickly as possible.

[esoterica1693]

Part 2

Two days later he hesitantly approached Minerva’s office and knocked on the doorframe. She had managed to avoid him completely for two entire days. It had been torture.

“Headmaster?”

Uh-oh. Her calling him by his title was not a good sign. “Yes, it’s me, Albus. May I come in?”

“Of course. You’re the Headmaster. You may do whatever you like. Including throwing me out of your office and insulting me to your house elf.” He didn’t think he’d ever seen her mouth in a thinner line or her jaw tighter.

“Professor McGonagall, I’m so sorry. I’ve come to apologize and beg your forgiveness. My behaviour the other night was utterly uncalled for. It was totally unprofessional of me as well. Nothing you said deserved any portion of that response. What can I do to set things right between us? Please? ”

Her mouth softened as she looked at the crushed expression on his face. “Oh, Albus. Albus Dumbledore, I can’t manage to stay mad at you if I try. Not when you look at me with those eyes. You’ve been my best friend for thirty years. And this is only the second time in thirty years you’ve ever had to really apologize for anything. So I think I can manage some leniency. Apology accepted.

“Now it’s my turn, Albus. I don’t begin to know what all was going on in that conversation, but you have to believe me, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would do anything rather than hurt you. I’m sorry. About what I said. About everything.”

“I know. You don’t need to apologize. I know you’d never intend to hurt me. I can’t explain why it upset me so, but it wasn’t really about what you said. I do know you would never hurt me, and please know I’d never want to hurt you. I’m so sorry I did. So, can we both do our best to pretend it never happened, then? I need my Deputy and my friend Minerva now more than ever.”

“It’s all right. And Albus, whoever she is, that witch you spoke of, she’s a very lucky woman.”

“I’m glad you think so, Minerva. That’s very kind. But, please, let us not speak of her again.”

She carefully straightened the papers on her desk. “Will you escort me to the Great Hall for dinner, Albus?”

“It would be an honor, Minerva.” He took her arm in his and they walked down the corridor.

[esoterica1693]

1975

Albus scanned the awful scene around him. He and Minerva had been heading to a meeting at the Ministry when they had received a patronus from Alastor calling for urgent reinforcements. Reports had come in of Death Eater attacks on muggles at King’s Cross, and the Prewett brothers had responded first, quickly finding themselves battling five Death Eaters. They’d called for support, and immediately upon his arrival Alastor had in turn called for additional backup from the Order. Minerva and Albus had been the only Order members close enough by to respond. Joining forces with the others, they were successful in distracting the Death Eaters from their muggle targets but were now in the fight of their lives. And they were losing.

The Death Eater contingent included Dolohov and several other of Voldemort’s best fighters. The Prewetts had both gone down a few moments ago, and it was clear they were dead. They had petrified one Death Eater before they fell, but Alastor was fighting against two others while trying to defend the Prewett boys’ bodies. Albus and Minerva, fighting as a team against the two remaining Death Eaters, were trying to get into position beside him.

Suddenly Alastor bellowed in pain and collapsed on the tile floor. One leg was covered in blood, as was his face. He was still firing spells, but he could not stand and surely could barely see. The situation had just become dire. Albus’ mind raced.

He turned to Minerva. “Transfigure the Prewetts into something small and apparate Alastor and them out of here. I’ll cover you and then break off myself. Quickly!”

Within seconds Minerva was at Alastor’s side. Albus focused his energy and cast as strong a shielding charm as he could around the little group while Minerva turned the two bodies into books, which she shoved into her deep pockets. She waved her wand at Alastor to staunch the bleeding as best she could and hauled him to his feet. She then looked at Albus, expecting him to join them. He was busy firing off spells against the four remaining Death Eaters while simultaneously maintaining the shield around Minerva and Alastor.

“No, I need to keep this shield up while you apparate. Go! Now! I’ll be fine. GO!!!” he roared. His eyes were blazing, his face nearly glowing, and Minerva found she literally could not disobey him. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Alastor and with a loud “Pop” they were gone.

Albus’ momentary distraction making sure the others got away came at a high price. His left knee erupted in fire, his leg buckled, and he barely managed to stay upright. While he lurched and careened to maintain his footing, another spell or two hit him hard blows. He tasted bile and blood in his mouth. He cast a levitation charm to help his balance and a stronger defensive shield in front of himself and tried to focus on pushing the Death Eaters back.

It was taking all of Albus’ energy to stand upright, maintain his shield, and fire off enough spells at the four Death Eaters to keep them from completely coordinating their attack against him. Even so, they were launching a non-stop fusillade of AKs and Sectumsempras, along with a host of other lesser spells, hoping to find some chink in his defenses. He was holding his own for the moment, but he could not possibly hope to gain any advantage.

He could see no way to escape. He did not have enough energy to apparate while simultaneously maintaining the shield and parrying spells, but if he dropped it even for a breath, he would be dead. And he couldn’t hold out much longer. He could feel his energy draining along with the blood which was coating his leg, pooling in his boot, and making the tile floor treacherously slick. The pain was beginning to make him nauseous. It was getting harder and harder to maintain his balance.

Albus suddenly understood he was going to die there. He was meeting his end on a muggy September afternoon, in the lobby of King’s Cross station, in the midst of what he now realized had probably been an ambush. 'At least all the muggles managed to escape, some slightly wounded, but all alive. Tom always has called me ‘that lover of Muggles and Mudbloods.’ A fitting way to go. And I saved Alastor and Minerva.'

Minerva. How she would blame herself for his death, for having left him to fight alone. But it couldn’t be helped. He desperately wished there was a charm he could cast to prevent her guilt, but he knew no such magic existed. His only regret was that he would die without Minerva knowing he loved her, had always loved her. For a famously brave wizard, he had been a coward in one area.

Albus re-focused all his energy. He had no real fear of death. He would try to do as much damage as possible to the Death Eaters before he fell—he would at least exact a price for the lives they had taken and the guilt Minerva would feel.

Minerva had apparated herself and Alastor to the Accident and Casualty ward at St Mungo’s. “HELP!” she yelled, dragging the now-unconscious Alastor through the automatic doors. Soon the badly-wounded Auror was surrounded by a trauma team.

A nurse began to ask Minerva questions about Alastor and how he’d been wounded. “Death Eaters. Attack. Five, maybe ten minutes ago. No, I’m fine. A few scratches, but nothing serious. His next of kin? I don’t know. Dumbledore would know.”

Albus. Where was Albus? He should be here by now. Surely he’d managed to apparate right after her? She looked around, panicked. He wasn’t trying to play the hero and take on four top-notch Death Eaters by himself?!

“Has anyone seen Dumbledore?” Everyone looked at her blankly. Merlin! She had to find him. Not even Albus could defeat that team single-handedly.

She quickly pulled the two books from her pockets and shoved them into a Healer’s hands. “Here. Call the morgue, tell them to use a standard transfiguration reversal spell on these. Their names are Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Aurors. They should have dogtags. They died honourably. I have to go back. Dumbledore’s still fighting four senior Death Eaters. Alone!”

She turned to the young Auror standing guard duty at the door and flashed her retired-Auror identification at him. “Floo the Ministry now and tell them Moody and Dumbledore say to send every Auror they’ve got to King’s Cross, main ticket concourse, immediately!” She then transfigured into her animagus form and disappeared with a loud “Crack!”

Minerva instantly saw that Albus was in serious trouble. He was staggering, covered in blood, and pale as a sheet. His aim was becoming increasingly erratic. One of the four Death Eaters lay bound but the other three were closing in on him, and some of their spells were breaching his defenses.

There was no time to wait for reinforcements. What remained of his shield charm could collapse at any moment. The only hope was to somehow Side-Along Apparate him out of there. It was very risky for both of them, but the only alternative was to watch him be killed in front of her, and that was no alternative at all.

Tail as full as a bottle brush and standing straight up, ears flat back against her head, lips curled back over her teeth, she darted towards the battling group, praying Albus would recognize her and realize what she was doing. He had to cooperate or they’d surely splinch. They might well anyway, but she had no choice. Using all her mental strength she pushed her magical signature and thoughts towards him: “Tabby! Side-Along! St Mungo’s A&C!”

She launched herself through the air towards his shoulder with a loud “Mrrrow!” As soon as all her claws had solid purchase in his skin she pressed as much of her body and tail flat against him as she could. “Aparo!”

“Crack!” The orderlies scrambled backwards in shock as the most famous wizard in the kingdom apparated into their midst covered in blood and with a wild-eyed cat clinging to his back. He immediately pitched violently over onto the floor, retched weakly, and lost consciousness. The cat jumped off him and instantly transfigured back into her human form.

She cast her eyes over both of them, quickly counting limbs and digits. “Thank Merlin—we didn’t splinch!” Then to the medical personnel pressing around, “He’s in awful shape. His left leg, dunno what else. Shock. Lots of blood loss. He’s taken scores of hits, hundreds if you count what his shield charms absorbed.”

She gripped one of his slender hands in both of hers as the Healers began work. His skin felt clammy, and his breathing was erratic and shallow. Blood flecked his lips. “Oh, Albus, hold on!” she urged. “You’re going to make it. You have to make it. I can’t lose you! Albus, I love you! Oh, Albus.” Great sobs wracked her body.

[esoterica1693]

Minerva shifted in the hard plastic chair as the Healer came in to check on Albus. “Ms. McGonagall, is it?”

“Professor McGonagall, yes. I’m Albus’ Deputy at Hogwarts.”

“You’re listed as his medical power of attorney.”

“Yes. He doesn’t have any close family.”

“Well, then let me tell you where things stand.” He cast a silencing charm around them so Albus wouldn’t hear them if he awoke.

“He is technically stable at this moment, but he’s not out of the woods yet by far. Things could change quickly at any time, so we’ve got him listed as critical. He came very close to bleeding out, and several of his wounds are cursed—they will heal very slowly, and until they do, he is at risk of a sudden fatal hemorrhage. The main wounds are the one on his thigh and knee, which knicked a major blood vessel, and a few on his back which seem to have also impacted his central nervous system. It’s as if the spells fried some of the synapses and circuits. They’ll repair themselves but it will take a while. He has a pneumothorax on his left lung, and his right lung is partly collapsed.

“Also, the amount of magical energy he expended defending himself was extraordinary—even if he weren’t physically wounded he’d be near exhaustion. If he were anyone else, with less magical power, he’d be dead. This also means that he will heal slowly, as his magical core cannot lend the normal amount of power to the physical healing.

“The combination of the extensive blood loss, the damage to his nervous system and the depletion of his magical energy means he’s essentially on a knife edge. He could recover smoothly, if slowly, or he could go into a fatal crisis in an instant. There might be a hemorrhage, or a sudden disruption of his breathing or pulse or autonomic nervous system, or a clot leading to a stroke or heart attack. He could develop pneumonia, which he could not overcome. He’s too weak for further surgery to remove the clots or fix the lung issues. Once he’s got some strength back we can do that, but not yet—we just have to hope they won’t cause problems in the meantime.

“We have him on a rich flow of oxygen, and an IV drip for hydration, nutrition and electrolyte balancing. The depletion of his magical power and the curses on some of his wounds mean that we need to use muggle medicine alongside magical medicine. I’ve got bleeding detection and blood pressure monitoring spells in place.

“He should regain some level of consciousness in a few hours. We will keep him lightly medicated for pain but can’t risk depressing his breathing or confusing his nervous system any more. We can only give him enough to take the edge off the pain, so that it doesn’t weaken him further, but we can’t block it entirely."

The Healer put his hand on Minerva’s shoulder.

“You need to know….as he has no reserves, if he goes into crisis, we might not be able to save him. Or we might be able to save his body but only at great cost to his core or mind. Professor, you need to think through the decisions we might have to ask you to make in a hurry. I’m sorry to speak of such things, but it is unavoidable.

“However, I assure you we will be doing everything we can to prevent a crisis. It could be he will have a totally uneventful recovery. I certainly hope so. He is strong, powerful, determined, and full of Light. Hopefully those things will pull him through.”

“Thank you. Thank you for telling me everything. May I stay with him?”

“Hmm. Yes. Ordinarily I would say no, but he needs every source of encouragement and power possible around him. I will justify it in the name of security. You’re a Reserve Auror, right? We’re totally safe here, but I will tell my bosses that such a prominent patient needs to have someone skilled at defense with him at all times.”

The Healer flipped through the pages on his clipboard. “Speaking of Aurors, I see that you’re also listed as the person closest to Auror Moody, so I need to update you on him as well. He’s in stable condition, and we expect him to recover well, though he’s suffered some serious permanent wounds. We had to amputate his leg at mid-thigh. Also, we were able to save his left eye, but only cosmetically—he’ll never see out of it again. And the damage could cause him to lose the eye eventually, even if it heals well at first. However, I do not have any serious concerns about his recovery, at least not physically. Clearly his career as an Auror is over, though, and amputations are emotionally traumatic, so mentally he might have a difficult time.

“We have contacted the Ministry about the other two Aurors whose bodies you brought with you, and they are notifying the families.

“There have been lots of reporters around. We have barred them from this floor, but if you go anywhere else, to get some exercise or a snack, you may encounter them. Feel free to call security if they bother you. By the way, the Obliviators and such have been at work. The muggle press is full of the news of a nasty IRA bombing at King’s Cross. You’ll be glad to know all the muggles survived, with only superficial injuries. The Chief of Aurors tells me that, judging by the images of the battle on the security tapes the Obliviators confiscated, those muggles have your team to thank for their lives. And also that neither Moody nor Dumbledore would have survived without you, Professor.

“Professor, you’ve had quite the day. Two friends killed, one seriously maimed, and one in critical condition. My nurse tells me you took some hits too but have refused treatment so you could remain with Dumbledore. I can’t say I blame you, given his condition. But you’re bound to be exhausted. Can I get you anything? A pain potion? A calming draught?”

“If you’ve got something mild, that won’t make me sleepy or foggy, but that will help with general aches and bruises, that would be appreciated. Otherwise, a dinner tray would probably be the best medicine I could have. I have no appetite, but I am exhausted and my body must be in need of fuel.”

“Very well. I’ll send the nurse in with a potion, and I’ll have all Prof. Dumbledore’s meals sent up as if he were able to eat them. Technically he’s cleared for both solids and liquids so long as he’s fully alert and someone’s supervising him, but I don’t think he’ll have the energy to manage it for quite a while yet. You’ll just have to give him a synopsis of what all he’s missed once he’s awake.” The Healer smiled at Minerva, dropped the silencing charm, and left.

Minerva reached out and took Albus’ hand. “Oh, Albus. Albus. You’re such a fighter. You just need to keep on fighting. I’m here to help. You can do it.”

The chair bit into her legs. It suddenly occurred to her that she could transfigure it into something more comfortable. She waved her wand. 'I must be exhausted if I didn’t even think of doing that hours ago.' She reached out and took Albus’ hand again.

The School. She needed to send word to Filius, but how? She leaned well away from the bed for a moment. “Fawkes? Fawkes? Are you back yet? Can you come to me and Albus?”

Albus’ familiar appeared in a flash of red flame. If a bird could look heartbroken, Fawkes did. He’d been half-way round the world couriering documents to some dragon-keepers in China when Albus had been injured. He clearly felt guilty for not being able to come to his master when he had been in such need--he had been too far away for any sense of Albus’s distress to reach him. Minerva reached out and stroked the regal head.

“It’s okay, Fawkes. Nobody blames you. You were doing what Albus sent you to do. But now I need you to take word about Albus to the School. Take these to Filius and Poppy. She conjured parchments and a quill and quickly scribbled out two messages:

Filius—
Albus is badly wounded, in critical condition, very touch-and-go. I will not leave him. You are in total charge of the School. With both of us away, please be especially mindful of security—YKW may try to press his advantage. Do not contact me on any School matters. If you need assistance contact the Governors. I will let you know if anything changes here. Send all possible good thoughts and power Albus’ way.
--Minerva

Poppy—
This is a copy of Albus’ chart, for your eyes only as his regular primary care provider. I don’t think folks at the School need to hear anything other than that he’s critical and needs all possible energy. I will not leave him. Poppy, I have never felt so helpless.
Anyway, his condition is as follows…..”
--Min

She waved her wand over the chart at the foot of the bed to copy it onto the parchment and then sent Fawkes on his way with the messages.

[esoterica1693]

Albus felt as if he were just completing a port-key over a very long distance, one that had perhaps been mis-charmed. Gradually he became aware of abilities approximating cognition and sensation. He remained still, with his eyes closed, assessing what he felt and trying to figure out his situation before revealing that he was more present than he had been.

Utter exhaustion of body, mind and magic. That was the overwhelming feeling. He had not felt so exhausted since the days immediately following his defeat of Grindelwald, when he had been nearly dead. Pain. Fiery pain screaming from his left leg. Sharp pain every time he breathed, and a feeling like he had been severely clubbed in the chest and torso. Strong aches everywhere, with some minor pain on his back. He seemed to be more or less in a sitting position. A mouth drier than he imagined the driest desert to be. The antiseptic smell of a hospital. Some sort of tubes in his nose. His wand was not in his hand and he did not sense it anywhere nearby.

He probed for any trace of magic. He could barely sense his own power. Stronger was the sense of someone near him, to his right. Someone whose magic he seemed to recognize, and consider friendly, but his mind could not bring the witch or wizard’s identity into focus.

Where was he, and what was his situation? He desperately tried to remember what had happened before the portkey. He had been in a fierce battle and badly hurt. He had been dying. There was something to do with Tabby-Minerva, but he couldn’t remember what. Then nothing until now.

He had felt like he was dying before the portkey, but he did not think he was actually dead now. He doubted dead wizards experienced pain, and he was most definitely in pain. He didn’t think ghosts experienced pain either, so he probably wasn’t a ghost. It was therefore likely he was in a hospital, and someone friendly seemed to be nearby. It was time to try opening his eyes. He slowly turned his head, which hurt less than any other part of him, towards the sense of friendly magic, and forced his eyelids open.

He found himself staring into Minerva’s face. Her expression was a mix of concern and elation, overlaid on exhaustion.

“Albus? Are you awake?”

He blinked his eyelids in response. He moved his tongue around in his mouth and parted his lips, but could not speak. A nurse loomed into his vision and gently swabbed his mouth with water.

“Here, Professor.” She gently poured a few drops of water onto his tongue and watched closely. When he did not choke she gave him a bit more, and then a full mouthful, before drawing back.

“ ’Nerva? What?” he croaked.

She stroked his face. “Oh, Albus, Albus.” She was struggling to master her emotions. Several tears rolled down her cheek.

“You’re at St Mungo’s, if you hadn’t guessed. You gave me quite a scare. The Healers say you might give us quite a few more scares yet before they can declare that you’ve pulled through. They say that by any measure you ought to be dead. But you’re not, and you’re going to fight through this and be as good as new. It’s just going to take a long time. Oh, Albus. ”

“How? What?” He could barely form the words.

“His four best Death Eaters had you cornered for over ten minutes. They’d wounded you badly enough you couldn’t apparate. The Healers estimate you deflected close to a hundred AKs, not counting multiple hundreds of other spells. I was finally able to come close as Tabby and Side-Along you here. You’ve got a very nasty cursed wound in your leg that nearly killed you outright, and considerable damage to your lungs and back. And your magic is nearly spent.”

“Pain. Gods.”

“They can’t give you much for it right now, you’re still too weak. I’m sorry.” She could see the pain in his eyes and it cut into her. “I wish I could help.”

“Can. Enter. Legili. Please.”

Minerva understood he wanted her to enter his mind and help him fight the pain. She wasn’t nearly the legilimens he was, but she knew the basics.

“All right, Albus. I’ll do the best I can.” She looked into his eyes to establish the mental connection. “You rest now. Use all your energy to heal.”

With Minerva’s help he was able to drift into sleep despite the pain. She transfigured her chair into a bed and dozed beside him, never letting go of his hand. Her sleep was punctuated by nurses and Healers coming to check on Albus, change his dressings, and adjust his IVs. She tried to not let the looks of concern on their faces as they looked at the monitors alarm her.

Drifting between sleep and awareness, his mental shields totally lowered so that Minerva could enter his mind, Albus could now remember the battle. The brave Prewett brothers. Such a waste. Minerva’s eyes begging him to come with her as she rescued Alastor. His love for her cascading over him in powerful waves as he forced her to leave. The Death Eaters’ spells crashing into him—no wonder he was in pain. The awareness that he would die. The aching regret that Minerva would never know of his love.

The sensation of regret was so powerful and piercing that it propelled him rapidly upward back towards wakefulness. He had to tell her. He could sense that his body was still locked in a great struggle, unsure whether it could overcome the damage inflicted on it. It was entirely possible that he might yet succumb. He had to tell her.

He forced his eyes open and turned towards her. She started from the light sleep she’d fallen into and leaned over him. He looked at the water glass and she gently poured a bit into his mouth. He gathered all his strength and concentration.

“Minerva, promise me. Just one thing.”

“Anything.”

“If … I don’t make it….you….please don’t feel guilty….saving Alastor and you worth it.”

“Oh, Albus.” Tears streamed down her face. “You’d better jolly well make it, then, because I’m not sure I can keep that promise.” She squeezed his hand and smiled grimly at him.

“ ‘Nerva. I once spoke of….a witch that I love, more than life.”

Minerva steeled herself. He was about to ask her to convey some message to that witch in the event that he died. His blue eyes were dark and churning. He lifted his wildly trembling hand to her cheek. She could sense him summoning all his strength.

“Minerva, you are that witch. I love you. With all my heart. Have loved you….”

Minerva’s mouth dropped open. Had he just said?

“..for years. Decades. Will always love you. You are…incomparable.”

Her heart turned over in her chest and refused to stay still.

He took a deep breath and flinched sharply from the pain. Tears were running down his cheeks now as well.

“I don’t expect…desire …anything ….from you….in return….beyond… our friendship…I know your ….views on love….but had to tell you… anyway. Could not bear….if you never knew…..How much you are loved…. Minerva, you …are….my ….life.”

Every word was clearly costing him pain and great energy. His hand fell back to the mattress and he settled more deeply into the pillows. He closed his eyes, completely spent. But now he could bear whatever came.

“Albus, look at me for just one more moment. Please!”

He managed to re-focus his gaze on her only with the greatest effort.

“I love you, Albus! I love you. I have for a long time. It took seeing that I might lose you to be able to admit it, to myself or you, but, oh how I love you! Will love you. Forever.”

She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed the back of it, once lightly in imitation of his signature gesture, and then again hungrily. “Albus, my love, my life.”

His eyes became shining sapphire, and his mouth turned up in a smile. He could not believe what he had just heard. What he had just felt in her kiss. Such a profession on her part had been totally outside his expectations, beyond his most fantastic imaginings. His magic hummed in his core, very faintly but enough that he sensed it. He squeezed her hand. “To love. And life.”

He closed his eyes again, exhausted beyond measure, but the smile remained on his face. To love. And life.

[esoterica1693]

That is all I have written at present. I intend to write at least a bit more, to see them into whatever new relationship they craft, but it may take a while. For now we will just leave them there, both very happy, while Albus rests and recovers. :-)

Esoterica1693

[esoterica1693]

That afternoon when the worried Healers gathered around the bed to re-dress Dumbledore's wounds, which were still bleeding heavily, Minerva summoned Fawkes. The Healers instinctively shrank back as the bird materialised amidst them in his characteristic ball of flame, and he immediately began to drop large tears into the wounds. The Healers looked on in amazement as almost all traces of the vicious wounds simply disappeared. The only sign remaining from the near-fatal gashes was a large spidery scar on Dumbledore's left thigh and knee. Its magical origin revealed itself upon close inspection--it formed a perfect map of the London Underground, centered on the King's Cross ticket concourse. Even though he would otherwise heal completely, he would always carry a reminder of the battle which had nearly cost him his life.

As he regained his strength over the next day, neither Albus nor Minerva spoke of what had transpired between them--but neither one could stop smiling at the other, nor could even the most insistent medi-witches force them to drop their entwined hands. Their smiles were those more commonly seen on teenagers newly in love than on mature veterans leading the resistance against the most evil wizard in history.

After two days the Healers, satisfied that the risk of bleeding, clotting and strokes had passed and that he had recovered sufficient strength, mended the damage to his lungs and nervous system and declared him fit for discharge the following morning, presuming he kept his activity level to a minimum. Only then did either Albus or Minerva dare address their newly-admitted feelings directly.

"I hope that I do not have to give up this," he said, lifting their joined hands to his lips, "along with my hospital gown."

Minerva smiled. "I hope not, too."

"We cannot simply go on as we were before."

"No. But...how...what...."

"I have an idea.” His eyes twinkled. “Let's not rush to figure this out in the next 18 hours. It's been, what, over 20 years in the making? Let’s take our time.

“Why don’t we put in a short appearance at the School to reassure folks that I am indeed alive, and well along the road to recovery. Only for a day or so, in which we can act as before. I will then retreat to my house in Wales for further recuperation for a week. The Healers have ordered I take it easy, and I truly don’t feel at all up to facing the full School routine yet. You can join me there, except when you absolutely must be at the School for classes or to check on your cubs. You can tell the School it is to keep an eye on me, make sure I eat something more than sweets, and also to help catch me up on my paperwork. But it will also give us time together to explore, well, us.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“Why don’t you go back to the School this evening? Meet with Filius, figure out where things stand, plan out what we need to do tomorrow, and so on. You can come back here in the morning to collect me—I’m sure I shouldn’t be apparating on my own yet.”

“All right.”

“Maybe you could take some of this back with you.” He gestured to the mountain of get-well gifts he had received—most of them purchased at Honeydukes. “Whatever you don’t want to carry I’ll have the medi-witches distribute to patients without such a large fan club. At least those who aren’t on a restricted diet.”

Minerva laughed and began shrinking the candies which were his particular favorites and summoning them to her pockets. As she finished and turned back to him, he drew her close.

Reaching around with his other arm, newly freed from the various drips, he pulled her head down to his. “Minerva…” His lips initially met hers tentatively, but when she did not pull back, he pressed more firmly. Their first kiss was outwardly tender and gentle, but both were trembling from head to toe. When they pulled apart their eyes locked. Neither blinked, and the azure and emerald pools said more to each other than either could have found the words for.

[goddessmcg]

This is still a absolutely fabulous story. Your fantastic way of writing just pulls me into the story and I become so emerged in it that I almost forget to review this fantastic piece of work. I love the way you have Albus declare his love, and how Minerva's response gives him strength I really, do look forward to your next update

Goddess McG

[esoterica1693]

Thank you so very much, GoddessMcG! I had feared no one was reading my fic!

I may not have time to update much in the next few weeks--I am working on a huge project (HP-related) which should take all my non-work time. But getting reviews makes it more likely I *will* return to it and finish it in a month or so. Right now I have the very last scene written, and some ideas about some others, but not enough to post.

[elivania]

Holy smokes. This is amazing!!!! I can't wait for more!

[kissofdeath]

ooh. haven't noticed this fic until now but im glad i did 'cause im totally loving it. update soon!

[esoterica1693]

Thank you all for the kind words! Here is another very small update.

[esoterica1693]

Albus made his public re-appearance at Hogwarts at lunch the following day. When he entered the Great Hall students and faculty rose to their feet and gave him a thundering ovation which lasted for several minutes. Candies and flowers began hurling magically towards his seat.

The clapping and cheering stopped only when he cast a Sonorus charm on himself and said, in a voice trembling with emotion, “Thank you. Your affection and good wishes sped my healing immensely and have moved me more than I can say.”

He paused to regain some control over his emotions and voice. “I would like to thank you for your support of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick in my absence. You should also know that I would not have survived the battle at all if it were not for Professor McGonagall’s actions that day. Our Head of Gryffindor displayed great courage and loyalty, and at least two people owe her their lives.” He bowed towards Minerva, who flushed slightly and looked down at her plate.

“Now,” Albus smiled broadly, “I am rather eager to eat my first non-hospital food in some days.” With that he waved his hand over his plate and lunch was served.

[KristaMarie]

This was the first story I read in my quest to read through all that I have missed, and I just have to say WOW! Absolutely amazing-- looking forward to more!!

[dianahawthorne]

This is an amazing story- I can't wait to read the next chapter!

[McGonagallsGirl]

I really like this. It's intelligent and captivating, although occasionally wordy.

Quite refreshing, and I like where it is headed.

Good writing, and I hope you write more like it in the future

[kahpfan]

More, more, more!
Love this story so far - keep the updates coming.
:-) kahpfan :-)

[primadie]

Spent 3 days reading this and have to say it's the best fic I have ever read.

Ever.

And I read a lot of fanfiction.

[crystalpheonixeyes]

Okay, you made me stay up the whole night reading that, but I have not had a chance to reveiw untill now.

Truthfully I have no idea what to say..... though if I did know what to say, it would definatly be good.

[esoterica1693]

Thank you ALL for your wonderful comments!

I will post more (I have a few scenes drafted and others in mind), but I doubt I'll have time to update in the next 10 days or so. And by that point we'll all be glued to our copies of DH!

[pinnacle]

Gah. This is just a beautiful story. Love story. It's incredibly moving... I cried at least twice. Hoping you'll update soon!

What is your HP-related project, by the way? If you wouldn't mind sharing...

[esoterica1693]

I am teaching a 3-session class at my church on how JKR's books do or do not reflect Christianity. I contend, contra the headline-hoggers in South Carolina, that they are in fact very Christian books. Not quite as blatantly so as CS Lewis' Narnia, but Narnia was written in a different cultural milieu. HP is definitely Christian literature, IMO. Tomorrow is session 2 of 3. Wherein we look at the reams of classical Christian symbolism in the books and also the connections with alchemy. I am strongly influenced by (though not in 100% agreement w/) John Granger's interp of the books in _Looking for God in Harry Potter._

[esoterica1693]

Pinnacle--
I'm just curious--which bits made you cry? :-)

[pinnacle]

esoterica1693 said:

I am teaching a 3-session class at my church on how JKR's books do or do not reflect Christianity. I contend, contra the headline-hoggers in South Carolina, that they are in fact very Christian books. Not quite as blatantly so as CS Lewis' Narnia, but Narnia was written in a different cultural milieu. HP is definitely Christian literature, IMO. Tomorrow is session 2 of 3. Wherein we look at the reams of classical Christian symbolism in the books and also the connections with alchemy. I am strongly influenced by (though not in 100% agreement w/) John Granger's interp of the books in _Looking for God in Harry Potter._

Ah... I'm not actually religious myself (*runs and hides*), but I agree that HP definitely has Christian influences. I should check out Granger's book, as I'm very interested in religion.

esoterica1693 said:

Pinnacle--
I'm just curious--which bits made you cry? :-)

The very emotional parts... when Albus was telling her about the woman he loved, and his words before he started on the liquor... also near the end when he tells her that she is "that witch."

I should tell you that I cry very rarely reading fics, so this is a big thing!

[esoterica1693]

Thanks. Glad to know how specific parts affect folks.

I was afraid that his anger at her in that scene wasn't realistic, but I figure that the only way he'd be able to avoid confessing his feelings would be to morph them into something else and get her out of the room ASAP. Strong emotion + frustration /near panic might yield anger.

Writing that bit showed me though that I have a really hard time writing them as staying truly angry at each other for any length of time. Angsty, fine, angry no. Says more about me and my baggage than them, I suspect!

Re the religion--it certainly does have strong Christian influences and IMHO is 100% compatible w/ the Christian gospel, but that's certainly not the only set of symbols and meanings she's working with. I read one analysis that shows she's riffing on about 12 different genres at one point or another.

[esoterica1693]

A/N:
I don't know how well my muse will react to DH long-term, but here are a few more scenes.

- - - -
Albus sat at his desk, working his way through the remarkably few parchments which had accumulated in his in-basket in his absence. Four days without a single owl from the Ministry—he couldn’t recall them having ever shown such restraint in forty years. Minerva sat at his work table, bowed over a measurably larger stack.

“Minerva?”

“Hmm?”

“What exactly did you tell people about my condition after the battle?”

After a moment she looked up at him with eyes full of pain. “I only said anything at all to Filius and Poppy. But I told them the truth. Well, as close to the truth as I could bear to say. That it was very serious. That you might die.”

“But that wasn’t the truth.” He had surely felt near death in the first day in the hospital, but now that he felt almost back to normal he attributed that more to shock than reality.

“No it wasn’t the truth, Albus. The truth was…was that no one actually expected you to live!” Her voice was breaking despite clear efforts to maintain control.

“It was awful. The Healers clearly didn’t think….” All semblance of control had now vanished and she was speaking in choking, gasping sobs. “They told me I needed to be ready to, to give them instructions, if, if in the end they could save your body, but not, not you.” At this she dissolved utterly.

Albus hurried around the desk, bent over her and pulled her head towards him. How he wished he could kneel next to her chair, but the lingering twinges in his leg warned him not to.

“I’m sorry, Min, I’m so, so very sorry. It’s over now, it’s okay, I’m sorry.” he whispered, stroking her hair and rubbing her back as she cried into his robes. Her pain cut into him as sharply as his wounds had done, but in the region of his heart. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, again and again.

Gradually her sobbing ceased and she simply relaxed into his embrace. Then she leaned back and looked up at him rather sheepishly. “I think that was when I realized my grand plan—to keep myself from loving you so I would never have to bear losing you—hadn’t exactly worked.”

He brushed her hair out of her face and stroked her cheek. “Hmm. And now I see my grand plan doesn’t seem to have worked either.”

“Your plan?”

“That you’d never, ever suffer because of me. If I just kept my love for you a secret, then you couldn’t be hurt. ………But it didn’t work. You still hurt. I’m sorry.” He bent and kissed her forehead, wishing he could kiss away the pain she had felt.

“But I didn’t lose you. Rather the opposite, it seems.” She smiled more broadly now. “Which makes my pain altogether worth it. Not yours, though.” She traced her finger along the faintest of pink lines which curved down his neck, all that remained of one of his wounds.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to repeat it if I could avoid it, I’ll admit.” He smiled and squatted down next to the chair to be face to face with her. Wincing involuntarily as his knee twinged, he took her hands in his and looked intently into her eyes. “But if this is the compensation, then I shall not complain.”

He raised her hands to his lips and brushed them with the lightest of kisses. “I will do my best to not cause you pain, my love. I will do my best.”

“You always have.” She suddenly noticed the gathering tightness around the corners of his mouth. “Speaking of avoiding pain, stand up!”

He gripped the back of her chair tightly and pulled himself to his feet. “Let me help you with some of this paperwork.”

“Don’t be silly. Simply enjoy the wonder of a Ministry-free inbox for one day! Damn near dying certainly earns you that privilege. This won’t take me all that long. Why don’t you go for a walk, or go down to the staff room for a chin-wag. And don’t forget you promised Poppy you’d let her look you over before we leave. I’ll see you in the Great Hall for dinner, if not before. Go on, now.” She picked up her quill and turned back to her parchments.

“Alright.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he imagined them as an old married couple, Minerva governing his domestic life with the same efficiency with which she valiantly attempted to order his professional duties. He realized with a start that it was far from an unpleasant image.

- - - - -
“You can put your robes back on now, Professor.” Poppy’s quill scratched over Albus’ medical file for a moment and then she looked up.

“How do you feel?”

Albus stretched his fingers, flexed his ankles and took a deep breath. “Alive. Very alive. Which is a good feeling indeed, I’d say. More than good! I do still catch myself wondering—what’s that muggle phrase?—‘If anyone got the number plate of the lorry that ran me over?’ But I’m solidly on the mend, and my magic is coming back nicely. A few days’ rest in Wales and I’ll be as good as new.”

“I concur. Presuming you really do rest. I mean it. Nothing at all taxing. And take all these potions they gave you at St Mungo's exactly as prescribed.” She said the last sentence with a firmness borne by years of experience of the Headmaster’s cavalier attitude towards his health.

“But you do know you’re a very lucky wizard indeed, Albus Dumbledore?” She gestured towards him with the parchment Fawkes had delivered the first night after the battle. “Minerva sent me the reports from your first day at St Mungo’s. And I can see from my diagnostic that they did not exaggerate in the least. You should have died. If Minerva hadn’t gotten you help the very moment she did….and if it weren’t for her summoning that bird of yours to heal those wounds…the outcome….”

Poppy suddenly looked away from him and seemed to be intently interested in the eye test chart on the opposite wall. “Yes. Well. You gave us all quite the scare.”

She continued, able to meet his gaze again. “Minerva most of all. I’ve never seen her so utterly undone. She, you—you know, you’re so very important to her, Albus.”

“Yes. She was absolutely magnificent at the hospital, Poppy.” His face was glowing. “I think I do have some idea…and she…and I ….Well, there’s nothing like a stay in the trauma ward to focus your thoughts, is there? I do think we understand each other much better now.”

He stood quickly, finished fastening his robes, and started towards the door with a slightly flustered air. “Minvera will make sure I take care of myself properly this week. You needn’t worry, Poppy.”

She looked at him closely, a new understanding forming in her mind. “No, I can see I don’t need to worry any more. I’m very glad, Albus.” Her entire face smiled at him in a warm benediction.

She was replacing his file in the cabinet behind her desk and re-casting the protective wards around it.

“Thank you for the exam. And thank you for guarding my personal information so closely, as always. You know that whatever vulnerabilities of mine you may discover cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

“Of course. I totally understand.”

He paused at the door. “I’m sure we’ll see you at dinner, Poppy. Thank you again.”

- - - - -

During dinner Poppy leaned over to Minerva. “Would you mind stopping by the hospital wing before you leave? Knowing you, you’ve not had anyone look you over properly since the battle. Those were some dark curses they were throwing.”

- - - - -

Poppy examined Minerva with the same care as she had the Headmaster. “Well, you’ll have some scarring that would have been prevented with quicker care—not anything so interesting as Albus’, though! A map of the Tube on his knee. Only Albus Dumbledore could manage to have even a curse scar from a deadly wound be whimsical! Anyway, I’d like you to take these strengthening potions for a few days on general principle, but you do seem to have escaped without any lasting injury. Thank you for letting me make sure, though. Eases my mind as your nurse, and as your friend.”

“Well, I was only fighting them a fraction as long as Albus did. And they didn’t recognize me when I came back as Tabby. I just wish the Prewett boys would have been so lucky. And Alastor. It is so damned unfair!” Minerva’s voice was quaking with anger and sadness.

“I stopped by and visited with Alastor yesterday. Should have sooner, but I was so worried about Albus. He’s taking it all very hard. Feels totally to blame for not protecting the boys, and even Albus, as if it was all his fault they got hit. And he’s convinced he’ll never be any use to anyone again. Can’t have a half-blind and lame Auror. And here I come through without a scratch, when you don’t even need any kind of body to be able to be a teacher, as Binns can well attest.” Minerva sighed heavily.

“Min, stop this!” Poppy stepped closer to her friend. “You saved Alastor’s life. And then you threw yourself back into a battle which had already bested the most talented wizard in the world and three of the Auror Corp’s best fighters, and you saved Albus’ life. You were willing to take any curse that hit you. It was, it is, war. Things happen. You know that, Colonel McGonagall. Don’t blame yourself, or sell yourself short. Two men are alive today who wouldn’t be without you. I know they’re both very glad you’re alive and whole.”

Poppy paused and then looked even more directly into Minerva’s eyes. “One of them in particular. When he talked about you this afternoon--I’ve never seen him glow before, Min! If you two have finally seen what you mean to each other, then something good has come out of the horror of that battle. Don’t let it go. Don’t let him go.”

Minerva was staring at her open-mouthed. “What—what did he say, Poppy?”

“Oh, he didn’t say anything too specific—just that ‘you understand each other much better now.’ But he didn’t have to go into detail. It was obvious. He’s absolutely mad for you. Which he’s been for ages, of course, even longer than you’ve been for him. I’m just so glad you’ve both finally admitted it!”

It took Minerva a minute to regain her composure and respond. “We--we have, but I have no idea what that means really, I don’t think either of us does. Oh, Poppy, it’s all so wonderful, and I’ve never been so happy, but it’s all so confusing, and we certainly don’t want others knowing.” She twisted her hands in her lap. "Does Albus know you’ve….And how long have you known I love him?”

“He knows I won’t say anything. And of course none of this was stated directly, Albus being Albus, but it was clearly understood. I’m sure no one else has guessed, except maybe Filius, though he can be rather oblivious at times. But you can trust his discretion no matter. And I’ve known you love him for a while. Little things you’ve let slip here and there.

“I mean it—I’m so very glad for you, Min. Don’t let this go. Don’t pull back into that shell of yours. And don’t let him sacrifice this in another one of his noble, chivalrous gestures.

"I swear, Min, if he tries to tell you it’s too risky, I’ll go fetch Sara’s portrait from Pince’s office and have her hex some sense into him herself!”

Minerva couldn’t help but laugh at this image. “Now that I’d like to see! She just might, too. She loved him. I know she’d want to see him happy again, not still imprisoned in guilt.”

“Exactly.”

“And I do think we make each other happy. Could make each other happy.”

“You could indeed. If you let yourselves. You both deserve it. Don’t rationalize your way out of it this time.

“But now, Deputy Headmistress, why don’t you get back upstairs to your paperwork so that you can both enjoy your time in Wales.” Poppy’s smile almost quirked into a leer.

Minerva blushed slightly as she stood to leave. “Thank you, Poppy. You’re a very good friend.”

She blushed much more deeply in her rooms when she looked at the several bottles of potion Poppy had given her. One was labeled “The Most Reliable Contraception for the Responsible Witch.” Obviously Poppy was not entirely convinced Albus would follow her orders forbidding him taxing activity.

[Apocalypticat]

SQUEEEEE!!

Remarkable, incredible, stunning, fantastic writing! You capture the emotions of the characters so well, and have made them complex and believable (I'm not saying canon isn't believable, but in the context of the ADMM relationship you've really added extra layers). Much of the story is so intense that a reader simply must hang on for more—I particularly liked the depth you gave to the war, and the system to created with regards to the Unspeakables and the Fellowship. Much creativity that I really enjoyed! Albus's confession of love got me pretty choked up.

I must say one thing—I'm quite gratified to have had one idea in my pet fic which is the same as yours! It certainly does not have the same depth or detail to it, and I'm putting it to a different use than you have, but I feel complimented that I had the same idea as such a splendid writer: the link between transfiguration, alchemy and molecular structure. Just a random thought there (I do love creating magical theory).

I'll be awaiting updates most eagerly; all of this is absolute gold, and don't give up on it!