Post by Bola on Oct 23, 2010 5:43:53 GMT -5
We Belong (Pat Benatar)
___
There's one last thing that Albus wanted to tell her...
___
Hi, everyone. So I haven't really been able to get a beta to look at this. If you should be interested...? I'm therefore very sorry if this piece of fan-fiction should disappoint.
___
Many times I've tried to tell you
Many times I've cried alone
Always I'm surprised how well you
Cut my feelings to the bone
.
Don't wanna leave you really
I've invested too much time
To give you up that easy
To the doubts that complicate
Your mind
Minerva's eyes quietly trailed over to the Headmaster, who appeared in deep conversation with one of her colleagues, namely Snape, who was once again nagging about that Potter boy. Yet even though Minerva McGonagall was actually Gryffindor Head of House, incidentally the House to which Harry Potter belonged, she intuitively had chosen to ignore another load of Snape rubbish to come over her tonight. Snape was seriously biased if it came down to Harry Potter either way. She hadn't felt like wasting another night listening to him. Thus Albus had to deal with it now.
She slowly resettled, as of course sitting on the pane of the window with this weather wasn't ideal. It wasn't like this would be the very first time she was doing this, though. It actually happened more often than possibly even Albus himself could guess, and more often than she would like to admit to anyone. She sometimes came to sit there, and watch Albus Dumbledore at night; when she couldn't fall asleep. That even was her most favorite activity. It wasn't really soporific, but it did make her feel all fuzzy, and unconcerned. Even Minerva McGonagall sometimes needed to feel that. She could watch Albus for hours without getting bored. She would follow him with her eyes, and notice every little thing. She never got annoyed by it, no matter if he sometimes paced for hours. That was her secret, and one that wasn't to be shared with anyone.
She sometimes wanted to tell him, though. She often wanted to tell him she had had enough of being considered as his Deputy, and companion, and just nothing more…and especially that she was fed up with the fact he made no effort to change that image of them. Albus so often lauded the emotion of Love, but he himself appeared unable to see what was right before him, even though Minerva did try to act dumb about it all, and even laughed with when Albus occasionally shared yet another rumor of this or that witch or wizard who thought them both could fit together really well. She had learned to live with it, but every time Albus once again eyed her with these piercing blue eyes, she could almost feel that heart of hers melt. He saw right through her, but she wasn't entirely sure whether that could be because of his skill to read others so easily, or because of the many years Albus and Minerva had known one another – since Minerva's first year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus Dumbledore had been her teacher in Transfiguration.
She had already felt drawn to him then, but because sharing that notion would have been inappropriate not in the least because of their position to one another and the difference in age, Minerva never had said anything about it. Years later, Albus still showed unaware of what effect he actually had upon her. It would seem quite unbelievable. The best wizard in ages who never noticed what lay right before his eyes. Wasn't it obvious then?
She could hear the bell towers chime, and knew she should return to her chambers, or it would certainly raise questions in the morning if she suddenly showed up with blue bruises under her eyes due to lack of sleep. Of course she could cover it up easily with charms, but that was something odd about Minerva McGonagall.
In her years as a junior Auror, interesting to most every wizard that passed by, she had used lots of these famous Glamor charms. She wasn't really the type to draw attention, but of course which girl never secretly hoped to be noticed by the boys? It had only ended her with many failed relationships with mean length of one month. That's why she had swore on her thirty-first to give up finding the love of her life, and to never use a charm like that again. If a man really wanted her, he would have to do with what he saw. That guy never had come, and not much longer after that realization, she had arrived at Hogwarts to teach. And that's where Albus had come in the picture again. Suddenly it had become obvious to her why it hadn't worked with all these others who merely were an image of what Albus Dumbledore was.
She had become older, and so had he, but age had done basically nothing to him. He only appeared more wise, and attractive than before. Even though she no longer had those hormones of them running through her, it had become more difficult to ignore her feelings for him later. She had really thought that the matter Albus had been buried, but obviously it hadn't. Maybe it could be elucidated with the urge to settle down most women experienced at a point in their lives.
She slowly hopped down off the stone window pane to the one below, and made her way to her chambers with some neat acrobatics she could certainly never do in human appearance. What difference did it make? She better never voiced her feelings, and remained quiet about it all like the last fifty years. He wouldn't reciprocate her feelings either way. If he, the defender of Love, actually had, he certainly would have shared them, no? She rather held dear whatever was between them now, than risk pushing him away by telling him about how she felt, and loose him as her best companion, too.
If it hadn't been so particularly painful, she would have laughed about the irony that even though Albus could read everyone's mind seemingly so easily, no one, even Minerva, could actually read his. One thing she knew, though. She wouldn't give up her feelings to the doubts of his mind, the much deeper matters that of course only he could have ever thought about.
We belong to the light
We belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words
We've both fallen under
.
Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong
.
We belong
We belong together
Minerva sensually rode both of them to immense heights of passion, their bodies passionately moving against each other in a rhythm solely them. She intuitively sought to entwine their fingers in the heat of their love-making, and held onto her lover tightly. Beads of love sweat had come to the surface of her forehead, and had matted some wisps of ebony to it.
Hours of having made mad love finally resulted into their release. Albus' came first, announced by a cry, and his wonderful hotness filling her. Minerva came soon after that, before collapsing atop of him, panting loud with exhaustion, and satisfaction.
Minerva quietly sighed, finding no one or no indication of anyone having shared the bed with her – it hadn't been anything more but a dream, and a quite wonderful one at that. She couldn't really say why even years after she had first fallen for him, she still felt herself fail under seeing him, and… She actually rarely had dreams like this, though. Oh, how she wished that it could have been more than a dream… Years of having been by his side for better and for worse certainly couldn't have been the one and only reason, though surely it must have at least something to do with it. 'For better and for worse'. Minerva sighed once again, and let her head fall into her white pillow.
__________
Albus sighed, and tiredly buried his head in his lengthy, bony fingers. Finally, he had gotten rid of Severus. Of course he, Albus Dumbledore, had noticed his favorite tabby cat upon the pane of the window to his office while the conversation had lasted. She had left her spot when the heavy bell towers had chimed to indicate midnight.
Did she really believe he hadn't noticed her every other night, just sitting there watching him? He sighed. Minerva McGonagall already had evoked the most inappropriate feelings within him in the days she had still been a pupil at Hogwarts, and he her teacher in Transfiguration. He hadn't failed to notice her interest for him already then, but it couldn't have been. After she had gotten her degree in Magic at said school, she had disappeared for years, in which both of them hadn't had any contact at all with each other. The little he had heard about her, he had heard of others who again had known of…
He had foolishly thought that she must have moved on. He should have known that while he hadn't, she wouldn't have either. Now she had been there at Hogwarts for forty and more years again. It never occurred to him anymore that once upon a time it hadn't been so, that once upon a time before she had finally come in the picture again, the job of Transfiguration teacher had had about the very same curse as the one of Defense Against the Dark Arts had shown the last couple of years. It appeared to have never been otherwise than now, with her being right beside him, and sharing with him every little pain and joy. Over the last forty years Minerva and he had become soul mates, had connected on higher levels than anyone before her had ever been connected to him. Of course he hadn't failed to notice this, and of course he had experienced the way how the both of them were together; how he felt exceptionally comfortable with her, and she seemingly with him. It actually carried something deeper and intimate than making love.
Maybe it's a sign of weakness
When I don't know what to say
Maybe I just wouldn't know
What to do with my strength anyway
.
Have we become a habit?
Do we distort the facts?
Now there's no looking forward
Now there's no turning back
Albus quietly raised his hand to the light to inspect it. His piercing blue eyes gazed upon the blackened, cursed fingers. He sighed once more, and again rested his hand into his lap. Minerva had chosen not to appear on his stone window pane the night he had returned with this. He certainly was glad about that. He wanted to tell her personally, and not have her learn the facts like that. He often tried to tell her, but never once did he actually find the words. That certainly showed one of his weaknesses.
He never wanted her to break down onto the couch, as he somehow anticipated would happen if he actually did tell her. He never wanted to see her in tears, and deal with the fact that he and only he had made her do so. Maybe he however was more afraid that she wouldn't do anything of this, and deal with it coolly. For one, he really hoped she would. For another, he wasn't sure if he could deal with it any better if she showed no emotions about that. He as one of the few had seen her much softer sides. He could most likely consider himself to be the one who had seen these sides most, even though that usual strict exterior she continually put up with.
He internally condemned himself for having been such a coward for almost half a century; for having let her wait for forty years, and…himself. He most likely should have taken the risk earlier, but only right now with not much future ahead of them and no possibility to make it all undone, Albus quietly made the decision for himself that at least if he wouldn't find the strength to tell her about the reason behind his painfully blackened hand, he would tell her about his feelings before he died.
He had not much longer to live, and thus maybe he should take the risk to at least enjoy the rest of his days with her. If he had actually misinterpreted her feelings for so many years, at least he wouldn't have to live with the guilt for much longer anymore.
When you say
We belong to the light
We belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words
We've both fallen under
.
Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong
.
We belong
We belong together
"Albus? … Albus? What's the matter with you tonight?" Minerva questioned in that delicious Scottish lilt, when finally she had gotten to catch his attention.
"I'm fine, dear," he replied, putting up one of his many casual smiles.
"Albus Dumbledore, I'm seriously insulted you even momentarily consider the possibility of fooling me in this. I have known you for well over half a century, and while it is of course undeniable you're quite a hard one to read, I would consider myself to know you at least well enough to see that your mind is somewhere else entirely tonight." She just nodded to the pieces of black beside the chess board. It certainly wasn't like him to not at least be an equal with her in this. He never actually lost. She really was surprised to hear Albus' next words, though.
"You're right, Minerva. I do have other things on my mind," he admitted, before carefully covering her hand with his. Minerva momentarily looked down at it with more surprise. "And most of them are connected to each other, and center around you." Minerva's eyes showed shock, and concern. He sighed. "There's something I have been wanting to tell you for a while, but never found the strength for."
Minerva quietly eyed the sickeningly blackened fingers that lay upon her much smaller undamaged ones. She swallowed. "Are you finally going to tell me?" she questioned, and nodded to his fingers.
Albus sighed, knowing that he most likely should. He didn't do or say anything, though. He waited, while carefully searching for words. "Minerva. I… I don't have much time on my hands anymore. I'll share with you that it does have to do with the state of my hand, but more I cannot divulge to you, for which I am sorry." He didn't fail to notice her non verbal response to that. "It doesn't mean I don't trust you. I would rather say you are the one in this life I trust more than anything. That, I believe is just the reason why I cannot tell you." He paused. Minerva's eyes grew more concerned. "While I, and now you as well, bear in mind the fact I won't have much time anymore, there are some doors that have opened to me with that realization. I know that it might sound odd to you, but there are things I never dared risk before, that now I am actually dying, don't have to fear anymore." Minerva obviously had no idea where he was going with this. "One of these things I never dared risk was losing your companionship," Albus said, and sighed, before taking the final leap to his admission. It was either now or never. "I just cared too much about our companionship to risk losing it because of unreciprocated feelings." Albus quietly waited for her response. After a while he quietly added with concern, "Please, Minerva… say something."
She swallowed. "Unreciprocated feelings?" Albus nodded. "Are you saying that…? Do you mean that…?"
He nodded, and let his eyes fall shut, before shaking his head. "I should have been…"
"No. No," Minerva interrupted, and jumped upright before crossing to the other side of his desk, and settling down on her knees before him. She slowly pried away his hands, and lifted his face to let their eyes meet. She smiled wearily through her tears. "Albus. I'll never have you apologize for this." She paused, before whispering, "Your feelings aren't unreciprocated – never were, never will. I love you."
With the strength of someone much younger, Albus quietly lifted her onto his lap, and cradled her into his arms. "I love you, too." He tenderly stroked the side of her face with his hand, until Minerva stilled it with her own. She carefully caressed every finger tip with her lips, and raised her eyes to meet his questioningly. She accepted that he liked it better not to tell her. That didn't mean she liked it any more, though. Thus, she questioned something more concrete, and for her essential. "How long?"
Albus sighed. He should have known this.
Close your eyes and try to sleep now
Close your eyes and try to dream
Clear your mind and do your best
To try and wash the pallet clean
.
We can't begin to know it
How much we really care
I hear your voice inside me
I see your face everywhere
Albus' damaged finger tips reached to touch Minerva's high cheekbone. The moonbeams that filtered in through the curtains and illuminated Minerva's countenance made her look even more beautiful. How could she ever have thought that he never had noticed her? Of course he had, and that he had proven her multiple times until the early hours of the morning. Their love-making had been rushed at first – what with pent up feelings for each other for about half a century. Once Minerva, then Albus had reached their height of passion, it had become much slower and tender. It wasn't that their first time together even though rushed had lacked tenderness, though.
Hours of giving one another the most delight possible with occasional orgasms had rendered them breathless, and exhausted, and very well satisfied. Albus quietly wondered if she was only nodding, or had already fallen asleep. The smile upon her lips gave him something fuzzy, something typically felt by teenage girls. He wasn't embarrassed about it. He didn't really care. Albus' piercing blue eyes, though already beginning to cloud with the very same exhaustion that had Minerva in this state, trailed down over the curves of her body. For about forty years he had only been able to guess about what lay below those billowing robes of emerald green, and black. He had imagined her beautiful, but what she had hidden underneath these unattractive teaching attires couldn't be described as just beautiful. If he had thought that she could make herself look attractive in even such… Yeah, Albus' mouth had fallen agape upon ridding her from her robes, and taking in the curves of her body for the very first time, clad in a set of matching lacy black panties and bra. It had almost seemed as if she had known, and maybe dressed up for the occasion. A more likely thing to assume would be that Minerva McGonagall being a master in Transfiguration had inconspicuously transfigured her initial underattires into this without his notice. He didn't really care. Minerva's black underwear of choice surely had had its effects on him either way.
He had taken in every little piece of her, and had touched every little inch, had felt the very different textures of her being, and discovered her sweet spots. He had discovered she really liked strokes down her spine in the middle of their making-love, like she really liked the skin beneath her ear to be kissed, and hungrily nipped on.
"Just sleep, Tabby," Albus whispered, and leaned in to let his lips brush against hers momentarily, before pulling back, and sitting up in the bed. Minerva suddenly shifted in her sleep, as if triggered by his moving about. She intuitively rested her head in his lap, and wrapped her arms around his waist. The smile upon her lips hadn't gone. He just had to smile himself, before carefully stroking the wisps of ebony away from her forehead, tucking some strands behind her ear. He could tell she must be having a very good dream. "Just dream," he added.
He sighed, and gazed into the dimness of the bedroom, barely registering the contours of the furniture. It all had ended well. She had said she actually loved him, too. Albus should feel like the happiest man and wizard alive, hearing this from such wonderful beauty as Minerva, and in one way he was. In one way a mighty Gryffindor lion raged in his chest with pride of finally having caught her. In another, he was annoyed with himself, and sad. Knowing this, he very much regretted never having told her about his feelings before. They could have had half a century more. Maybe…
Sometimes you just don't know the worth of something until you almost lose it. Sometimes it is the same with the depth of something. So sometimes you just don't know things until risking to lose them. He was very glad that Minerva felt the same for him, and hoped that the rest of their time together, he could make her happier than she ever might have been before. He knew that he could, but he internally blamed himself for any unhappiness in her life before that he possibly could have shielded her from. Life together would have been far less difficult, and lonely. In another piece of his brain, his mind battled against that. Maybe it hadn't been such good decision after all. Wouldn't their time together now hurt her more once he was no longer there, once the curse had taken him, or something or someone else? Wasn't it really selfish of him to do this now, to see joy for himself before dying, and leave her behind in his mess with heartache? No, she needed to know he did love her in return before he no longer had the chance.
Albus' hand trailed further down over her arm, then skidded to her side, and stilled at her hip. He chuckled almost inaudibly, enjoying how she then wriggled her nose much like a cat. She intuitively pulled herself closer to him, coming to lie half on top. He smiled into the dimness of the bedroom, and held her atop of him with one hand, while pushing himself down under the sheets again with the other, before turning on his side, and enveloping her in his arms. She nestled into his shoulder immediately. Albus tucked the covers closer around them, and kissed her forehead.
The words still rang into his head. "I love you". He still recalled Minerva's reaction when he had returned these words. He truly believed he might have fallen more in love with her than he ever might have been before then. He quietly looked at his blackened, bony fingers once again, and told himself that these last whatever years or months he might have left, with what hung above his head not only due to the curse, but because of various other reasons he couldn't confide in anyone, even Minerva, he would make her happy.
Still you say
We belong to the light
We belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words
We've both fallen under
.
Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong
.
We belong
We belong together
.
We belong to the light
We belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words
We've both fallen under
.
Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong
.
We belong
We belong together...
___
There's one last thing that Albus wanted to tell her...
___
Hi, everyone. So I haven't really been able to get a beta to look at this. If you should be interested...? I'm therefore very sorry if this piece of fan-fiction should disappoint.
___
Many times I've tried to tell you
Many times I've cried alone
Always I'm surprised how well you
Cut my feelings to the bone
.
Don't wanna leave you really
I've invested too much time
To give you up that easy
To the doubts that complicate
Your mind
Minerva's eyes quietly trailed over to the Headmaster, who appeared in deep conversation with one of her colleagues, namely Snape, who was once again nagging about that Potter boy. Yet even though Minerva McGonagall was actually Gryffindor Head of House, incidentally the House to which Harry Potter belonged, she intuitively had chosen to ignore another load of Snape rubbish to come over her tonight. Snape was seriously biased if it came down to Harry Potter either way. She hadn't felt like wasting another night listening to him. Thus Albus had to deal with it now.
She slowly resettled, as of course sitting on the pane of the window with this weather wasn't ideal. It wasn't like this would be the very first time she was doing this, though. It actually happened more often than possibly even Albus himself could guess, and more often than she would like to admit to anyone. She sometimes came to sit there, and watch Albus Dumbledore at night; when she couldn't fall asleep. That even was her most favorite activity. It wasn't really soporific, but it did make her feel all fuzzy, and unconcerned. Even Minerva McGonagall sometimes needed to feel that. She could watch Albus for hours without getting bored. She would follow him with her eyes, and notice every little thing. She never got annoyed by it, no matter if he sometimes paced for hours. That was her secret, and one that wasn't to be shared with anyone.
She sometimes wanted to tell him, though. She often wanted to tell him she had had enough of being considered as his Deputy, and companion, and just nothing more…and especially that she was fed up with the fact he made no effort to change that image of them. Albus so often lauded the emotion of Love, but he himself appeared unable to see what was right before him, even though Minerva did try to act dumb about it all, and even laughed with when Albus occasionally shared yet another rumor of this or that witch or wizard who thought them both could fit together really well. She had learned to live with it, but every time Albus once again eyed her with these piercing blue eyes, she could almost feel that heart of hers melt. He saw right through her, but she wasn't entirely sure whether that could be because of his skill to read others so easily, or because of the many years Albus and Minerva had known one another – since Minerva's first year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus Dumbledore had been her teacher in Transfiguration.
She had already felt drawn to him then, but because sharing that notion would have been inappropriate not in the least because of their position to one another and the difference in age, Minerva never had said anything about it. Years later, Albus still showed unaware of what effect he actually had upon her. It would seem quite unbelievable. The best wizard in ages who never noticed what lay right before his eyes. Wasn't it obvious then?
She could hear the bell towers chime, and knew she should return to her chambers, or it would certainly raise questions in the morning if she suddenly showed up with blue bruises under her eyes due to lack of sleep. Of course she could cover it up easily with charms, but that was something odd about Minerva McGonagall.
In her years as a junior Auror, interesting to most every wizard that passed by, she had used lots of these famous Glamor charms. She wasn't really the type to draw attention, but of course which girl never secretly hoped to be noticed by the boys? It had only ended her with many failed relationships with mean length of one month. That's why she had swore on her thirty-first to give up finding the love of her life, and to never use a charm like that again. If a man really wanted her, he would have to do with what he saw. That guy never had come, and not much longer after that realization, she had arrived at Hogwarts to teach. And that's where Albus had come in the picture again. Suddenly it had become obvious to her why it hadn't worked with all these others who merely were an image of what Albus Dumbledore was.
She had become older, and so had he, but age had done basically nothing to him. He only appeared more wise, and attractive than before. Even though she no longer had those hormones of them running through her, it had become more difficult to ignore her feelings for him later. She had really thought that the matter Albus had been buried, but obviously it hadn't. Maybe it could be elucidated with the urge to settle down most women experienced at a point in their lives.
She slowly hopped down off the stone window pane to the one below, and made her way to her chambers with some neat acrobatics she could certainly never do in human appearance. What difference did it make? She better never voiced her feelings, and remained quiet about it all like the last fifty years. He wouldn't reciprocate her feelings either way. If he, the defender of Love, actually had, he certainly would have shared them, no? She rather held dear whatever was between them now, than risk pushing him away by telling him about how she felt, and loose him as her best companion, too.
If it hadn't been so particularly painful, she would have laughed about the irony that even though Albus could read everyone's mind seemingly so easily, no one, even Minerva, could actually read his. One thing she knew, though. She wouldn't give up her feelings to the doubts of his mind, the much deeper matters that of course only he could have ever thought about.
We belong to the light
We belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words
We've both fallen under
.
Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong
.
We belong
We belong together
Minerva sensually rode both of them to immense heights of passion, their bodies passionately moving against each other in a rhythm solely them. She intuitively sought to entwine their fingers in the heat of their love-making, and held onto her lover tightly. Beads of love sweat had come to the surface of her forehead, and had matted some wisps of ebony to it.
Hours of having made mad love finally resulted into their release. Albus' came first, announced by a cry, and his wonderful hotness filling her. Minerva came soon after that, before collapsing atop of him, panting loud with exhaustion, and satisfaction.
Minerva quietly sighed, finding no one or no indication of anyone having shared the bed with her – it hadn't been anything more but a dream, and a quite wonderful one at that. She couldn't really say why even years after she had first fallen for him, she still felt herself fail under seeing him, and… She actually rarely had dreams like this, though. Oh, how she wished that it could have been more than a dream… Years of having been by his side for better and for worse certainly couldn't have been the one and only reason, though surely it must have at least something to do with it. 'For better and for worse'. Minerva sighed once again, and let her head fall into her white pillow.
__________
Albus sighed, and tiredly buried his head in his lengthy, bony fingers. Finally, he had gotten rid of Severus. Of course he, Albus Dumbledore, had noticed his favorite tabby cat upon the pane of the window to his office while the conversation had lasted. She had left her spot when the heavy bell towers had chimed to indicate midnight.
Did she really believe he hadn't noticed her every other night, just sitting there watching him? He sighed. Minerva McGonagall already had evoked the most inappropriate feelings within him in the days she had still been a pupil at Hogwarts, and he her teacher in Transfiguration. He hadn't failed to notice her interest for him already then, but it couldn't have been. After she had gotten her degree in Magic at said school, she had disappeared for years, in which both of them hadn't had any contact at all with each other. The little he had heard about her, he had heard of others who again had known of…
He had foolishly thought that she must have moved on. He should have known that while he hadn't, she wouldn't have either. Now she had been there at Hogwarts for forty and more years again. It never occurred to him anymore that once upon a time it hadn't been so, that once upon a time before she had finally come in the picture again, the job of Transfiguration teacher had had about the very same curse as the one of Defense Against the Dark Arts had shown the last couple of years. It appeared to have never been otherwise than now, with her being right beside him, and sharing with him every little pain and joy. Over the last forty years Minerva and he had become soul mates, had connected on higher levels than anyone before her had ever been connected to him. Of course he hadn't failed to notice this, and of course he had experienced the way how the both of them were together; how he felt exceptionally comfortable with her, and she seemingly with him. It actually carried something deeper and intimate than making love.
Maybe it's a sign of weakness
When I don't know what to say
Maybe I just wouldn't know
What to do with my strength anyway
.
Have we become a habit?
Do we distort the facts?
Now there's no looking forward
Now there's no turning back
Albus quietly raised his hand to the light to inspect it. His piercing blue eyes gazed upon the blackened, cursed fingers. He sighed once more, and again rested his hand into his lap. Minerva had chosen not to appear on his stone window pane the night he had returned with this. He certainly was glad about that. He wanted to tell her personally, and not have her learn the facts like that. He often tried to tell her, but never once did he actually find the words. That certainly showed one of his weaknesses.
He never wanted her to break down onto the couch, as he somehow anticipated would happen if he actually did tell her. He never wanted to see her in tears, and deal with the fact that he and only he had made her do so. Maybe he however was more afraid that she wouldn't do anything of this, and deal with it coolly. For one, he really hoped she would. For another, he wasn't sure if he could deal with it any better if she showed no emotions about that. He as one of the few had seen her much softer sides. He could most likely consider himself to be the one who had seen these sides most, even though that usual strict exterior she continually put up with.
He internally condemned himself for having been such a coward for almost half a century; for having let her wait for forty years, and…himself. He most likely should have taken the risk earlier, but only right now with not much future ahead of them and no possibility to make it all undone, Albus quietly made the decision for himself that at least if he wouldn't find the strength to tell her about the reason behind his painfully blackened hand, he would tell her about his feelings before he died.
He had not much longer to live, and thus maybe he should take the risk to at least enjoy the rest of his days with her. If he had actually misinterpreted her feelings for so many years, at least he wouldn't have to live with the guilt for much longer anymore.
When you say
We belong to the light
We belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words
We've both fallen under
.
Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong
.
We belong
We belong together
"Albus? … Albus? What's the matter with you tonight?" Minerva questioned in that delicious Scottish lilt, when finally she had gotten to catch his attention.
"I'm fine, dear," he replied, putting up one of his many casual smiles.
"Albus Dumbledore, I'm seriously insulted you even momentarily consider the possibility of fooling me in this. I have known you for well over half a century, and while it is of course undeniable you're quite a hard one to read, I would consider myself to know you at least well enough to see that your mind is somewhere else entirely tonight." She just nodded to the pieces of black beside the chess board. It certainly wasn't like him to not at least be an equal with her in this. He never actually lost. She really was surprised to hear Albus' next words, though.
"You're right, Minerva. I do have other things on my mind," he admitted, before carefully covering her hand with his. Minerva momentarily looked down at it with more surprise. "And most of them are connected to each other, and center around you." Minerva's eyes showed shock, and concern. He sighed. "There's something I have been wanting to tell you for a while, but never found the strength for."
Minerva quietly eyed the sickeningly blackened fingers that lay upon her much smaller undamaged ones. She swallowed. "Are you finally going to tell me?" she questioned, and nodded to his fingers.
Albus sighed, knowing that he most likely should. He didn't do or say anything, though. He waited, while carefully searching for words. "Minerva. I… I don't have much time on my hands anymore. I'll share with you that it does have to do with the state of my hand, but more I cannot divulge to you, for which I am sorry." He didn't fail to notice her non verbal response to that. "It doesn't mean I don't trust you. I would rather say you are the one in this life I trust more than anything. That, I believe is just the reason why I cannot tell you." He paused. Minerva's eyes grew more concerned. "While I, and now you as well, bear in mind the fact I won't have much time anymore, there are some doors that have opened to me with that realization. I know that it might sound odd to you, but there are things I never dared risk before, that now I am actually dying, don't have to fear anymore." Minerva obviously had no idea where he was going with this. "One of these things I never dared risk was losing your companionship," Albus said, and sighed, before taking the final leap to his admission. It was either now or never. "I just cared too much about our companionship to risk losing it because of unreciprocated feelings." Albus quietly waited for her response. After a while he quietly added with concern, "Please, Minerva… say something."
She swallowed. "Unreciprocated feelings?" Albus nodded. "Are you saying that…? Do you mean that…?"
He nodded, and let his eyes fall shut, before shaking his head. "I should have been…"
"No. No," Minerva interrupted, and jumped upright before crossing to the other side of his desk, and settling down on her knees before him. She slowly pried away his hands, and lifted his face to let their eyes meet. She smiled wearily through her tears. "Albus. I'll never have you apologize for this." She paused, before whispering, "Your feelings aren't unreciprocated – never were, never will. I love you."
With the strength of someone much younger, Albus quietly lifted her onto his lap, and cradled her into his arms. "I love you, too." He tenderly stroked the side of her face with his hand, until Minerva stilled it with her own. She carefully caressed every finger tip with her lips, and raised her eyes to meet his questioningly. She accepted that he liked it better not to tell her. That didn't mean she liked it any more, though. Thus, she questioned something more concrete, and for her essential. "How long?"
Albus sighed. He should have known this.
Close your eyes and try to sleep now
Close your eyes and try to dream
Clear your mind and do your best
To try and wash the pallet clean
.
We can't begin to know it
How much we really care
I hear your voice inside me
I see your face everywhere
Albus' damaged finger tips reached to touch Minerva's high cheekbone. The moonbeams that filtered in through the curtains and illuminated Minerva's countenance made her look even more beautiful. How could she ever have thought that he never had noticed her? Of course he had, and that he had proven her multiple times until the early hours of the morning. Their love-making had been rushed at first – what with pent up feelings for each other for about half a century. Once Minerva, then Albus had reached their height of passion, it had become much slower and tender. It wasn't that their first time together even though rushed had lacked tenderness, though.
Hours of giving one another the most delight possible with occasional orgasms had rendered them breathless, and exhausted, and very well satisfied. Albus quietly wondered if she was only nodding, or had already fallen asleep. The smile upon her lips gave him something fuzzy, something typically felt by teenage girls. He wasn't embarrassed about it. He didn't really care. Albus' piercing blue eyes, though already beginning to cloud with the very same exhaustion that had Minerva in this state, trailed down over the curves of her body. For about forty years he had only been able to guess about what lay below those billowing robes of emerald green, and black. He had imagined her beautiful, but what she had hidden underneath these unattractive teaching attires couldn't be described as just beautiful. If he had thought that she could make herself look attractive in even such… Yeah, Albus' mouth had fallen agape upon ridding her from her robes, and taking in the curves of her body for the very first time, clad in a set of matching lacy black panties and bra. It had almost seemed as if she had known, and maybe dressed up for the occasion. A more likely thing to assume would be that Minerva McGonagall being a master in Transfiguration had inconspicuously transfigured her initial underattires into this without his notice. He didn't really care. Minerva's black underwear of choice surely had had its effects on him either way.
He had taken in every little piece of her, and had touched every little inch, had felt the very different textures of her being, and discovered her sweet spots. He had discovered she really liked strokes down her spine in the middle of their making-love, like she really liked the skin beneath her ear to be kissed, and hungrily nipped on.
"Just sleep, Tabby," Albus whispered, and leaned in to let his lips brush against hers momentarily, before pulling back, and sitting up in the bed. Minerva suddenly shifted in her sleep, as if triggered by his moving about. She intuitively rested her head in his lap, and wrapped her arms around his waist. The smile upon her lips hadn't gone. He just had to smile himself, before carefully stroking the wisps of ebony away from her forehead, tucking some strands behind her ear. He could tell she must be having a very good dream. "Just dream," he added.
He sighed, and gazed into the dimness of the bedroom, barely registering the contours of the furniture. It all had ended well. She had said she actually loved him, too. Albus should feel like the happiest man and wizard alive, hearing this from such wonderful beauty as Minerva, and in one way he was. In one way a mighty Gryffindor lion raged in his chest with pride of finally having caught her. In another, he was annoyed with himself, and sad. Knowing this, he very much regretted never having told her about his feelings before. They could have had half a century more. Maybe…
Sometimes you just don't know the worth of something until you almost lose it. Sometimes it is the same with the depth of something. So sometimes you just don't know things until risking to lose them. He was very glad that Minerva felt the same for him, and hoped that the rest of their time together, he could make her happier than she ever might have been before. He knew that he could, but he internally blamed himself for any unhappiness in her life before that he possibly could have shielded her from. Life together would have been far less difficult, and lonely. In another piece of his brain, his mind battled against that. Maybe it hadn't been such good decision after all. Wouldn't their time together now hurt her more once he was no longer there, once the curse had taken him, or something or someone else? Wasn't it really selfish of him to do this now, to see joy for himself before dying, and leave her behind in his mess with heartache? No, she needed to know he did love her in return before he no longer had the chance.
Albus' hand trailed further down over her arm, then skidded to her side, and stilled at her hip. He chuckled almost inaudibly, enjoying how she then wriggled her nose much like a cat. She intuitively pulled herself closer to him, coming to lie half on top. He smiled into the dimness of the bedroom, and held her atop of him with one hand, while pushing himself down under the sheets again with the other, before turning on his side, and enveloping her in his arms. She nestled into his shoulder immediately. Albus tucked the covers closer around them, and kissed her forehead.
The words still rang into his head. "I love you". He still recalled Minerva's reaction when he had returned these words. He truly believed he might have fallen more in love with her than he ever might have been before then. He quietly looked at his blackened, bony fingers once again, and told himself that these last whatever years or months he might have left, with what hung above his head not only due to the curse, but because of various other reasons he couldn't confide in anyone, even Minerva, he would make her happy.
Still you say
We belong to the light
We belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words
We've both fallen under
.
Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong
.
We belong
We belong together
.
We belong to the light
We belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words
We've both fallen under
.
Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We belong
.
We belong
We belong together...
