Chapter Thirteen

"Very funny, Albus."

Minerva was standing just inside the door to his private quarters on Thursday evening, hands on her hips, attempting to glare at her lover.

"Whatever do you mean, my love?" Albus asked.

"The poem. Last night."

"Oh, yes. I thought you might appreciate it. It sprang to mind as I was marking some particularly creative first-year essays. The poet put me in mind of you. Any relation, I wonder?"

"A great-great-uncle. But I suspect you knew that."

"Not at all. So you are a niece of the Pride of Dundee? How very interesting. Why have you never mentioned it, my dear?" he asked, all innocence.

"It isn't a connection we McGonagalls are especially proud of," she said.

"Why? Because he was a Muggle?"

"A Squib, actually. But, no, not because of that. Because his poetry was so dreadful."

Albus began to recite:

"The lassie is tidy in her claes,

The bonnie broon-hair'd lassie o' Bonnie Dundee.

"How can you be unmoved by such eloquence, Minerva?" he asked, grinning at her.

"Oh, I am moved, Albus. Moved to nausea."

"Perhaps we can find a way to take your mind off your ailment, then," he said, pulling her close.

"I really don't think I should reward you for your little joke at my family's expense," she said, allowing him to kiss her neck.

"Let me make it up to you."

Later, as they were lying in his bed, sated and sleepy, he brought up something that had been rolling around in his mind for days.

"What are your plans for the Easter holidays?"

"Revise for N.E.W.T.s. Why?" she asked.

"I thought...if you're amenable...we might be able to spend a day or two together away from Hogwarts."

"I would love that!" She kissed him heartily.

"I have to stay here for most of the week, of course, but each of the staff is permitted two days off during the holiday," he said. "Perhaps you could arrange to meet me."

"Where?"

"I have a small home...my family's home, actually...in Godric's Hollow."

"Won't your family be there?"

"No. Nobody lives there regularly."

She knew very little about Albus Dumbledore's family. She thought the holiday might provide the opportunity to remedy that.

"It sounds heavenly, Albus," she said.

"It isn't anyone's idea of heaven, but it would afford us some time alone, away from the complications of our situation here," he said. "I'll request my days from Armando and let you know the dates. I'll think about the best arrangement for getting there; I take it you've never been to Godric's Hollow?"

"No, never."

"A Side-Along Apparition might be best, then," he said, thinking aloud. Glancing at the Muggle clock on his wall, he said, "But now I'm afraid it's time for you to go, my sweet."

She followed his gaze to the clock "Gods! I'm going to be late for rounds!" she said. "I'm on duty tonight until midnight." She jumped up and began to collect her clothes hurriedly. "Damn. I don't even have time for a shower."

"I'm sorry, Minerva."

"Not a problem, really. I'll just Scourgify. That will be good enough for rounds."

She dressed quickly and performed the spell to rid herself of the most obvious signs of their lovemaking, tidied her hair, kissed him quickly, then slipped out his office door. She raced to Gryffindor Tower to begin her rounds. Fifteen minutes later, as she was patrolling the Charms corridor, she heard an unwelcome sound.

"Minerva."

It was Tom Riddle.

She tried to fix a neutral expression on her face as she turned. "Tom."

He strode over to stand next to her...a little closer than she liked...and said, "It's been ages since I've seen you. Lucky we're both on duty this evening, isn't it?"

She said nothing.

"You're not still angry with me over Christmas, are you?" he asked.

"No, Tom," she sighed. "I'm not angry."

"I'm glad. I hope we can still be friends."

She gave him a small, forced smile.

"You're still working on that secret project for Dumbledore?" he asked.

"Yes. And it's not a 'secret project'. It's just an advanced Transfiguration project he's helping me with," she said. She didn't want to discuss it with him.

At that moment, she felt something warm and wet in her knickers. A trickle of moisture began to inch down her thigh, and she realised with dismay what it was.

"It must be very advanced if it's taking so much of your time. First you quit the Quidditch team, now I hear you've given up the chess club too. Are you spending all that time on the project with Dumbledore?" Tom asked.

"It's really none of your concern," she said. The last thing she wanted was to stand there discussing Albus with Tom Riddle while her professor's semen ran down her leg.

"I'm sorry, Minerva. I didn't mean to pry," he said, and she knew his chagrin was feigned.

He continued: "I just meant that your project must be very important to you if you're spending all your free time on it. Your friends are worried about you, you know. We never see you anymore."

His "we" grated on her nerves. Her patience with his insincerity was at an end.

"If my friends really care about me, they will realise that it is important to me and will stop bothering me about it. Now if you'll excuse me, I really have to be getting on with my rounds," she said and stalked off. When she was out of his sight, she slipped into the girls' lavatory to clean herself up.

Riddle watched her go, smiling at how easily he had been able to put her on the defensive about Dumbledore. She was hiding something about their work, he was sure of it. He didn't yet know what it was, but when he found out...and he was confident he would find out...he would use it to his advantage with Minerva, and...even better...to the bastard professor's disadvantage. He would need to be very careful, though. Dumbledore didn't trust him, so the ingratiating routine with which he usually snookered his elders wouldn't work with the Deputy Headmaster. Now, thanks to that meddling son of a bitch, Minerva didn't trust him, either.

Yes, caution would have to be the watchword. That was all right, though; Tom Riddle enjoyed a challenge.

/***/

Minerva felt a little dizzy when she opened her eyes after Apparating with Albus, so she hung on to his arm for a minute while she got her bearings. They had left the school separately and met up at the clootie well in Culloden Woods, a place each of them knew from previous visits. Albus then took her to Godric's Hollow from there via Side-Along Apparition.

She found herself in a small sitting room with a fireplace at one end and a rough-hewn table flanked by two long benches at the other. There were two wingback chairs and a faded settee in front of the fireplace. The room was neat but dusty with disuse.

"It's lovely, Albus," she said. In truth, she was a bit surprised at how humble the room was. Not that it bothered her, but she had expected something a bit grander for the family home of one of the most famous wizards of the age.

"It's not much," said Albus, "but it's comfortable enough. Come, I'll show you the rest of the cottage."

It didn't take long; there was a small but cosy kitchen equipped with an antique cooker and cool cupboard, as well as a fireplace complete with hanging cauldron. The garden that opened off the kitchen was overgrown with weeds, but it looked as if it had been quite charming at one time. The upstairs consisted of three small, unremarkable bedrooms and a bath that boasted a large tub.

"That's all there is to it. I told you, it's not much. The running water was added only about ten years ago. I don't come here often," he said.

"This is where you grew up?"

"Yes, in part. We moved to Godric's Hollow from Mould-on-the-Wold when I was ten."

"Is any of your family still in Godric's Hollow?"

"No. My brother and I are the only ones left, and we both moved away a long time ago," he answered quietly.

"I'm sorry, Albus. I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories," she said. She remembered what he had said about taking the wrong path and hoped she hadn't overstepped with her questions.

"It's quite all right, my dear. One day I'll tell you more about my family, but I'd like to save that for another time." He was not ready to discuss his troubled family history with her just yet. "I thought we'd use the largest bedroom, if that suits you."

"Fine," she said. "I'll put my things in there, then." She Banished her small carpetbag to the room, and Albus followed suit.

"I had the Hogwarts house-elves send in some supplies, if you're hungry," he said. "Or we could go into one of the nearby Muggle towns for dinner. We would be unlikely to be noticed there."

"I rather like the idea of going out together," she said. She remembered what she had told him about not needed to be wined and dined, but she had to admit that the idea of doing something as ordinary as sharing a meal in public had an appeal.

"Very well. Why don't we just freshen up, then we can be off," he said.

Fifteen minutes later, he was wearing what she thought to be passable, if outdated, Muggle clothing and had charmed his hair and beard to a length that would be less remarkable in Tewkesbury, where he had decided they would go. Like most young people she knew, Minerva generally dressed in a style similar to that of Muggles, so she didn't need to make many changes to her clothes or appearance other than to Transfigure her cloak to a simple mackintosh.

She took his arm, and they turned into the dizzying, pressing darkness. A moment later they were standing in a narrow alleyway. They stepped out into a small high street lined by half-timbered buildings. There was a light rain falling, and Albus said, "I'm afraid we'll get a little wet, my dear; I don't dare use an Impervious Charm with all the Muggles about."

"A little water never hurt anyone," Minerva replied as they hurried down the block. When they reached the corner, he directed her through the heavy oak door of one of the larger edifices. The interior of the pub was dark, but windows on the far wall opened onto a small courtyard and afforded a nice view of the river that ran just behind the pub. It was still relatively early for dinner, so they had their pick of tables and selected one near the windows.

A few minutes later, a young woman approached them, saying, "Welcome to Ye Olde Black Bear. May I get you something to drink?"

"I think I will have a Robinson's," said Albus, "And the young lady will have . . ." He looked at Minerva questioningly.

"I'll have the same," she said. It had been ages since she'd been in a Muggle restaurant, and she wasn't sure what the options were, so she followed Albus's lead and hoped for the best.

When the serving girl had gone for their drinks, Albus said, "I apologise for placing my order before yours; I wasn't sure how familiar you were with Muggle drink."

"Not very," admitted Minerva. "My father is fond of Scotch whisky, and we used to have Muggle wine at home, but it's been scarce since the war...the Muggle war, I mean."

"Indeed," said Albus. "I hope you will enjoy the ale, then."

They both selected fish for their meal: Albus the fish and chips, Minerva the Dover sole, and both dishes were quite passable. They talked about the Muggle war and Albus's hopes that the recent Russian incursions into Poland signalled the beginnings of a turnaround in Eastern Europe. Minerva told Albus about the wizarding family from Berlin that her father had taken in when the Allied bombing raids that had begun during the winter had destroyed the small wizarding centre of the German capital. Her father had written of horrors that his friends had witnessed during the past few years, she said, but he hadn't gone into any detail.

Albus looked grim. "I'm afraid we will hear of some terrible things once the war comes to an end. That is, if the wizarding world can be persuaded to pay any attention to them."

"Do you think we should take a greater hand in Muggle affairs?"

Albus was quiet for a few moments before he responded. "It is a very difficult question, Minerva. We have the power to prevent some of the atrocities committed by Muggles like those who follow Hitler, but it is difficult to know exactly what ramifications our interference will have in the long run. To be quite honest, I'm not sure that some of those atrocities are not, in fact, partly a result of wizarding influence."

"You mean Grindelwald?"

"Him, yes. And others like him. It is impossible to be certain, of course. But it would be consistent with what I know of Grindelwald's philosophy if he were to attempt to work through, or at least with, the Muggle dictator," said Albus. "And that is another very good example of why we need to be extremely cautious before attempting to interfere in Muggle affairs. It would be a great temptation to believe we should hold a kind of stewardship over them, and that leads to . . . excess."

Minerva got the impression that he was far away at the moment. She wondered if his sudden melancholy had to do with the "wrong path" he had hinted about having taken.

"I apologise, Minerva. Here I am, out with a beautiful woman, and I have become positively maudlin," he said, smiling at her once again. "Let's find a happier topic of discussion."

"How about dessert?" she said, knowing the prospect of something sweet would lighten his mood. "What on the menu would you recommend?"

They settled on an apple crumble, and as they ate, Albus regaled her with tales of first-year transfigurations gone wrong. By the time they had finished their meal, the pub had filled up. Minerva excused herself to go to the loo, and on the way back she was accosted by an obviously drunken young man in uniform as she tried to squeeze past the crowd at the bar.

"Oi, there love. 'Aven't seen you 'ere before. Let us buy you a pint," he said, his hazy gaze running up and down her form.

"No, thank you," she said, trying to shimmy past the man through the small gap between the wall and his body.

But the young man put his hand on her arm, saying, "Come on, just a pint, what's the 'arm? I'm shipping out in two days . . . might be me last chance to 'ave a drink with a pretty girl afore Jerry gets hold of me." He pulled her toward the bar with a bit more force than he probably intended.

"Sorry, but no . . . please let me pass," Minerva said as calmly as she could. If this had been a wizarding establishment, the young man would already have been sporting a crop of excruciatingly itchy boils on his arse...Minerva's favourite way of dealing with wandering hands being to give them something else to do...but she couldn't hex a Muggle.

Fortunately, Albus had noticed her predicament and came to help extract her. "Excuse me, soldier. The young lady and I were just leaving. Shall we, Minerva?" he asked, offering her his elbow.

The young man dropped Minerva's arm. "Sorry, miss. Didn't realise you was 'ere with yer dad. No offence meant, guv'nor."

Dumbledore merely smiled pleasantly at him and took Minerva's arm. They left the pub together, and as soon as they were outside, Minerva said mischievously, "Thanks for that, Dad." Albus didn't say anything, and she thought that perhaps she shouldn't tease him about their age difference.

"Thank you for a lovely dinner," she said to smooth things over.

"You're quite welcome, my dear. Would you fancy a walk along the river?"

"Hmm. I think I'd rather go back to your cottage, if you don't mind," she said. It was chilly, and she was now anxious to be alone with him.

"All right," he replied. When they got to the alleyway they had used to Apparate into town, he suddenly pulled her against him and kissed her, his mouth hot and frantic. As his tongue found hers, he moved her backwards, pressing her up against one of the damp stone walls. He surprised her further by grinding his pelvis against her, making sure she could feel him through their clothes. She wondered for a moment if he was going to take her right there in the alley, and the notion sent a burst of heat through her body, but then he slipped his arm around her waist and tightened his grip, and she felt him begin to turn them. The abrupt whoosh and pressure of Apparition was less nauseating when his tongue was in her mouth.

Funny, they didn't mention that in Apparition lessons, she thought smugly as they suddenly stood kissing in his sitting room.

His hands found her breasts at the same moment hers settled on his arse, and she pulled him closer, squeezing his buttocks as his fingers fumbled at the buttons to her blouse. She shivered, but whether it was from his touch or from cold, she didn't know, and he moved his hands away from her body long enough to gesture at the fireplace, raising a crackling fire. He continued his attempts on her blouse, and she moved one hand around to rub him through the heavy wool of his trousers. His hands paused for a moment when his breath hitched as she stroked him.

She felt powerful at that moment, and she craved more of the exquisite feeling of making him moan, the sound vibrating against her torso as she pressed against him. Pulling slightly back, she looked down at where his erection was clearly straining against the cloth of his trousers. She moved her other hand to join the first at the buttons to his fly and carefully undid them. She slipped one hand under the waistband of his shorts to stroke him as his hands sought the fastening to her skirt. Before he could unhook it, she stepped away again and looked at his face. He looked back at her questioningly as she pushed his trousers off his hips then sent his shorts to the floor after them. She dropped to her knees, took out her wand, and Banished his shoes, socks, and pants to a corner of the room, then put her wand down out of harm's way. She ran her hands up his legs slowly, admiring the firm muscles under the wiry hair, then moved her hands to grasp his hips. When she leant forward to kiss his belly just below his navel, his erect penis brushed against her cheek, and she heard his sharp intake of breath, encouraging her in what she wanted to do.

Grasping him gently with one hand, she brought her lips down to kiss his penis. She let her tongue glide softly over the head, tasting him for the first time. She wasn't quite sure what was expected, so she followed her instincts and licked him from crown to base and back. Taking the head of his cock between her lips, she moved them halfway down his shaft, running her tongue against the underside of it as she came back up. As she moved her tongue over the head, she glanced up at him and saw him looking down at what she was doing. She suddenly felt herself get very wet as she watched him watching her, and she closed her lips around him again, sliding down, taking all of him in her mouth this time. She felt him at the back of her throat and was pleased with herself when she didn't gag on his length. She began to move her mouth slowly up and down him, experimenting with using her tongue in different ways, and when she moved a hand to gently cradle and stroke his testicles, he began to moan.

"Oh, Minerva," he groaned as his hands came down to tangle in her hair, and he tried not to pull it or to thrust into her mouth, but it felt so good, what she was doing! "Gods, Minerva, you're sucking my cock . . . it's so good . . . in your mouth . . . ah!" he cried as she moved up and down on his erection. He could feel his orgasm building, and he wanted to tell her, didn't want to come in her mouth without some warning in case she didn't want it, so he managed to sputter, "So close . . . Minerva . . . going to come . . . you . . ." but she didn't stop licking and sucking, and then he was coming explosively...he could feel his penis hit the back of her throat and she was swallowing, her movements putting such exquisite pressure on the head of his spasming cock, and he had no words for how it felt.

His ejaculate tasted bitter on the back of her tongue as she swallowed, then, as he pulled back and out of her mouth, she thought it tasted a bit of walnut shells as well. Not unpleasant, she thought. She wondered for a moment if all men tasted the same. He was still trembling a little, and his hands were still in her hair as she looked up at his face. His eyes were closed now, and he appeared to be trying to steady his breath. She knew he had enjoyed what she had just done, and she was a little surprised to realise how much she had too. Being on her knees was slightly awkward, and her jaw had gotten a bit tired, but she loved the feeling of power it had given her. She had felt that when they made love, of course, but it was different because she was not entirely in control then, even when she was on top of him; she was always too lost in the sensation of him moving inside her. When he was in her mouth, she had felt his orgasm very clearly in the way his penis had pulsed and throbbed just before he came. Now that she had experienced it, maybe next time she could stop just before, let him cool down, then work him back up to orgasm again, as he had sometimes done with her. That might be a lot of fun for both of them, she thought, smiling to herself.

His eyes opened, and he looked down at her. Her eyes were wide, looking up at him, and her face was flushed. He reached down and caressed her cheek, then helped her to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace. A second later, and they were upstairs in the bedroom. He lit the fireplace wandlessly and turned down the bedclothes. She smiled as he removed his shirt, and she made quick work of her own clothes, then slid into bed beside him.

"Was that all right?" she asked, although she knew full well that it had been.

"It was wonderful. Thank you," he said, kissing the crown of her head.

"Good. I wasn't sure quite what you'd like. I've never . . . you know . . ."

"You were perfect. How was it for you, though?"

"Very nice. I liked hearing you get so excited."

"I was afraid you'd be offended at my vulgarity. I didn't intend to use quite those words," he said a little sheepishly.

"Not at all. I loved it, hearing you say those things."

"I tried to let you know when I was about to come," he said. "I didn't know if you would have preferred not to have me do it in your mouth."

"I knew. I wanted to taste you."

Her words and her bluntness were beginning to excite him again. He rolled towards her and kissed her deeply as he moved one hand down to her sex.

She opened her legs a bit and sighed as his fingers found her clitoris and began to rub it gently, while his other hand floated up to her breast and began to toy with the nipple. When she began to moan, he moved down her body and replaced his fingers with his tongue, transforming her moans into wild cries. He had thought he was spent after the powerful orgasm she'd brought him to, but her excitement made him hard again, and he found himself sliding into her warmth as she cried out her climax, and he rode the waves of pleasure along with her. He took his time, moving slowly in and out of her, stopping occasionally to stroke her clit with his fingers, until she was once again trembling on the brink. Then he sped up, pumping into her hard and fast, feeling his own climax build alongside hers. They came almost simultaneously, both panting and perspiring lightly, but neither crying out this time.

He actually fell asleep on top of her shortly afterwards, and she finally had to wake him to ask him to move off of her. He was asleep again within minutes, and she smiled to hear him begin to snore shallowly, because she knew that for once, neither of them would have to jump up and rush off, but that they would sleep all night next to one another for only the second time. She finally drifted off to sleep thinking about the ways she could wake him in the morning.