XXIX: Breakfast with Albus, Breakfast with Minerva

XXIX: Breakfast with Albus, Breakfast with Minerva

When Minerva opened the door, Albus's breath was taken away again. "You look stunning, Minerva." He heard himself say it, although he hadn't intended to. She looked beautiful that morning, her hair gathered in back, a few tendrils loosely framing her face, her lips plumply red and her cheeks rosy, the colour brought out by the trim of her gown, which showed her feminine figure to great advantage. Yes, his statement had been truthful: he had been stunned when Minerva opened the door, so much so that he forgot himself for a moment.

Minerva blushed as she held the door for Albus to enter. She was pleased by his words and wanted to tell him he looked nice, as well, for he did, but she was afraid it would sound like an insincere response to his own compliment. Instead, she commented on the other remarkable aspect of his appearance at her door – the flowers. "Albus, how lovely that you brought flowers! I was wishing I had some, and these are beautiful." She took the vase from him and buried her face in a large flower, ostensibly to breathe in its scent, but more to hide her flush.

Albus stepped in. "You're welcome. I meant to give them to you last night, my dear, but I'm afraid I was so taken by the fair blossom who graced my presence that I forgot the bouquet." What was he on about! Why did he persist in saying such ridiculous things? She would be offended, he was sure, and he waited tensely for the rebuke he was certain would follow his insensitive remarks. Minerva wanted his respect, and instead, he was offering her fatuous comments about her appearance. Rather than a rebuke, however, he was rewarded with a smile as she lifted her face from the bouquet.

"They are beautiful, Albus." Minerva turned and placed them on the table with the buffet. The bouquet was so large that they wouldn't have been able to see each other if she put it on the little round breakfast table. Not very conducive to conversation. Minerva smiled again as she nudged the vase over just a bit. What a lovely gesture. "Did you get them from Professor Birnbaum yesterday?" she asked, turning back to face him. Minerva was glad that she had managed to complete her sentence before she had the chance to really see him. He looked absolutely wonderful; the colour of his robes brought out the blue in his eyes, and the cut of his under-robe emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow hips; even the somewhat-distracting patterned over-robe couldn't hide the assets that his under-robe presented so beautifully. The many layers Albus so often wore had a tendency to obscure the fact that he was naturally blessed with a clearly masculine build, although Minerva was all too aware of it.

"I asked Johannes if I could help myself to some of the flowers from the greenhouses and gardens." Albus hesitated. Should he mention that he had selected and picked them himself? She seemed to like them. . . perhaps it would be all right. "I am glad you like them; I enjoyed picking them and trying to make a nice arrangement. It's not something I have done in a while."

"Well, they are beautiful. I am glad now that Blampa couldn't get me any flowers this morning," Minerva said. "And you look very nice, yourself. Your robes are beautiful, especially the under-robe. The embroidery is quite fine." She was blathering, Minerva thought. Why on earth did she mention his robe? Of course, he had complimented her when he arrived. Perhaps he wouldn't think it inappropriate.

"Thank you. The robe is new. The embroidered one, I mean. I hadn't worn it yet and wasn't sure . . . Madam Malkin told me it was fine, but she's in the business of selling clothes." Why on earth did he continue saying such inanities?

"Madam Malkin wouldn't do very well, though, if she recommended clothes to people that didn't suit them. She was right, in this case, anyway." Minerva could feel her blush deepen as she thought of how attractive he looked. She hoped Albus didn't notice. "Would you like some breakfast, Albus? The soft-boiled eggs and toast on are the table, but, as you can see, we have a number of other dishes to choose from."

"Yes, it all looks quite tasty," he replied, surveying the bowls and platters arrayed on the narrow side table. "Do you mind if I start with the eggs and then decide what else I'd like?"

"Of course not, Albus, don't be silly. You're here for a pleasant breakfast. Eat whatever you would like in whatever order you choose," Minerva said with a smile. "In fact, I think I will join you – I'm actually ravenous this morning, so starting with the eggs sounds like a good idea."

Minerva noticed as they went to sit at the table that between the time that she had left the room to brush her teeth and the time that she had returned to open the door to Albus, the arrangement of the little breakfast table had changed. It must have been Blampa. Instead of the two chairs facing one another at each side of the window, now one of them faced the window directly, with the other chair remaining where it had been. The place-settings were much closer now, and the tea service was laid out where one of the place-settings had previously been. Minerva would have to have a word with Blampa; expressing ideas was one thing, too much initiative was quite another.

Albus held the chair facing the window and waited for Minerva to sit. "Unless you'd prefer the other chair, my dear?" he asked when she hesitated.

"No, this is fine, thank you, Albus!" She sat and placed her napkin on her lap. "Tea?"

"Yes, please. A little milk first, if you don't mind."

Minerva raised up in her seat a little to reach for the pitcher. After pouring some milk in the bottom of the cup, she stood a bit more to pour the tea. "Sugar? Albus, sugar?" she repeated, looking over at him when he didn't respond immediately. He looked up at her with a slightly glazed expression.

"Yes, that would be fine. Just a little." Albus blinked and gave himself a mental kick. When Minerva had stood to pour the tea and had bent over the table slightly, he had been wildly distracted by the sight that the bodice of her robe presented him. The pretty ribbon lacing certainly was effective in displaying Minerva's figure to its fullest advantage. He had torn his eyes away just as she turned to look at him, fortunately. He didn't think that she had noticed his unseemly appreciation of her bosom. It was not as though she were spilling out of her robes or anything like that; the cut was perfectly modest. Albus wished he could slap himself.

Minerva poured her own tea whilst Albus busied himself taking the top off his egg. Perfectly soft-boiled, yet still warm. House-elf magic certainly had a way with an egg. He put the smallest lump of butter on the top of his egg and followed it with salt and pepper, glad to have a routine task to perform whilst he regained his composure. It had not been only his mind that had been distracted a moment ago, and Albus doubted that he could stand just then without embarrassing himself. Just in case, he pulled himself a bit closer to the table to be sure that it fully obscured his lap.

Minerva was eating her own breakfast quite hungrily and didn't notice Albus's discomfiture. She had finished her second egg and a slice of toast; Albus was still working on his first egg and a scone. "All right, Albus? Is the egg to your liking?" Minerva didn't think he looked very well. He had looked fine when he arrived. Perhaps he didn't like the eggs.

"Oh, yes, it's fine. Just taking my time, is all," Albus replied.

"Well, I think that I will help myself to some of the other things that Blampa thought were suitable for our breakfast. Would you like me to bring you anything?" she asked, standing.

"If you don't mind, I think I might use your loo. I'll get myself something after that."

"Oh, of course! You know where it is; help yourself!"

As soon as Minerva turned toward the other table, Albus stood. He hoped she wouldn't turn around before he'd made it to the door, which was behind him just to the left of the serving table. Fortunately, when she did turn, he was at the door and angled away from her. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him quickly. Slumping to sit on the closed toilet lid, Albus let out a sigh. Perversely, once he sat down, his problem began to subside on its own. Cursing the fact that he had left his wand in his bedroom, he cast a wandless Cooling Charm, trying to focus it on the area of his arousal, which was a more difficult task without his wand. He really did not want to cast a deflating spell; they were very uncomfortable and could have unpleasant side-effects for a number of hours afterward.

The Cooling Charm worked as he had hoped. Albus stood and flushed the toilet, although he had not used it. He didn't know if you could usually hear it through the closed door or not.

What was wrong with him? He had better self-control than this. It was having held her the night before. That had got him thinking in directions he should not have. Washing his hands, Albus shivered. Although he had aimed the icy blast at his "nether regions," he now felt quite chilled through. He imagined that the bathroom must be colder than usual, too, so to compensate, Albus cast a quick Warming Charm just before he opened the door to the sitting room.

In the sitting room, Minerva helped herself to mushrooms, baked onions, grilled tomatoes, and a single little sausage. She would have some strawberries and cream after this. Perhaps she wouldn't scold Blampa about the place settings, after all. The breakfast was wonderful. Sitting and tucking into the meal in front of her, Minerva considered Albus's behaviour that morning. He seemed very quiet. He had been quite gallant with the flowers and the compliments, she thought. She smiled to herself. Albus had looked a little overwhelmed when she'd opened the door to him – she had hardly been able to see him over the huge bouquet. She was fairly sure that no one had given her flowers in quite that fashion before. Maybe it was a last minute decision; although it was very sweet of him to have picked the flowers himself.

Remembering the effort Albus had gone to the evening before and the events that had led up to it, Minerva wondered about the reason for his silence. Perhaps despite their reconciliation, he still felt bad about what he had overheard her say yesterday morning. Poppy had seemed to think that Albus had looked very hurt by her ill-chosen words. Yet he had barely allowed her to apologise, and when she had, he had offered his own apology again, saying that he understood and could not blame her. That must be it, Minerva decided. In typical Albus-fashion, he had forgiven her quickly and had sought to make amends for his own failings. He probably still felt hurt by what she had said, despite his understanding and protests that everything was fine.

She would have to make clear to Albus that she was truly sorry for her words, but especially for the fact that they had hurt him. Perhaps when Albus had said they were friends, he had been looking for reassurance, too. Clearly, Minerva's mantra had so well inculcated in her the belief that she could be nothing to him that she hadn't considered the possibility that Albus might feel unsure in his belief that they were friends. Despite his confidence, his brilliance, and his obvious magical power, Minerva knew that Albus had vulnerabilities, that he wasn't the unassailable icon so many in the wizarding world believed him to be. Yes, she would apologise again, and this time, she would make sure that he allowed her to complete her apology.

Albus returned and began to serve himself from the side table.

"You should try the onions and the mushrooms, especially, Albus. I never would have considered baked onions for breakfast, but they are wonderful. I'd take seconds, but I want to leave room for some of Hagrid's strawberries." Minerva smiled at him as he took his seat beside her.

"He certainly is proud of his strawberries, isn't he?" Albus chuckled. "I had the same discussion with him as you did yesterday, but avoided having his fist shoved in my face as we were standing in his garden at the time."

Minerva smiled, but, remembering her mood during lunch the day before, didn't reply. They resumed eating in silence.

Well, this was awkward, Albus thought. It seemed he couldn't say anything without putting his foot in his mouth that morning. Why did he have to remind her of lunch? She had been clearly upset during lunch, as he had been able to see under her Glamour. After a sip of tea, he decided he needed to ease her discomfort.

"I'm sorry I mentioned that. I know you were . . . not feeling like yourself yesterday at lunch. It was careless of me to have reminded you. I am sorry, Minerva."

"Albus, if you don't stop apologising, I shall dump the mushroom pot over your head. Well, I suppose I wouldn't. The mushrooms are too good to waste, and I wouldn't want to get your beautiful new robe dirty." Minerva smiled at Albus ruefully. "None of that was your fault, and I don't want you to walk on eggshells afraid to say anything to me for fear I'll be upset by it. I admit that thinking of lunch yesterday reminded me of how I felt at the time, but that's not likely to be far from my consciousness any time soon, anyway. I think I've learned that it's not a good idea to avoid thinking about something that bothers me, at least not as a long-term strategy, so I don't think it would be right for me to expect you to avoid mention of anything that could conceivably remind me of everything that happened yesterday. Not only that, but the day turned out very well, in the end. Last evening was more enjoyable than any in a very long time, and I don't want to forget it."

At the end of Minerva's speech, Albus smiled widely. "Very well, Minerva. And I am very pleased to hear that you enjoyed yesterday evening so much, since my own sentiments were similar. I hope we are able to spend more time together like that." There it was again – the foot in the mouth. She certainly wouldn't want to spend more time in tears on his couch with him. He was relieved to see that Minerva didn't seem to notice his gaffe.

"I would like that, too, Albus. Very much." She rose. "May I get you some strawberries and cream?" At his smiling assent, she went to the table and began to fill two bowls with the strawberries and pour heavy cream over them. As she was doing this, an owl appeared at the window. Hooting softly, she perched on the window ledge.

"You appear to have received some post this morning, Minerva. Would you like me to take it for you?"

She glanced over. She didn't recognise the parchment. It didn't look like anything that her parents or one of her brothers would use. Perhaps it was from Melina. She wrote on whatever was at hand. Minerva once received a letter from her written on the back of a Muggle restaurant menu.

"Yes, please, Albus. Thank you." She carried their bowls of fruit over to the table as Albus gave the owl a bit of sage sausage from his plate. "I wonder who it's from."

"I would say, based on the hand-writing, that it is from the Deputy Headmistress," Albus replied.

"Gertrude? Why would she write to me?" Minerva was extremely puzzled, but didn't doubt Albus. He had worked with Gertrude long enough to be familiar with her hand-writing. "I don't think I've ever received a letter from her in my life. Not unless you count the little notes she would occasionally leave for me that summer I was helping you with the wards. Are you sure it's for me and the owl didn't bring it for you?"

"I have not recently changed my name to 'Minerva Morag McGonagall,' so, yes, I am fairly certain it is not for me," Albus said with a grin.

Minerva winced. If there was one thing that she disliked more than being called "Min" or "Minnie," it was being reminded that her middle name was "Morag." Thank goodness her mother had prevailed in her insistence that she be named "Minerva" in the classical tradition from her side of the family; "Morag" could remain as her middle name. Minerva would have to remember to thank her mother for that again. She was sure there were many Morags who were quite happy with that name; Minerva doubted she would have been one of them.

Setting the bowls down on the table, Minerva wiped her hands on her napkin before taking the letter from Albus. It was on very heavy, fine parchment. It had been folded rather than rolled, then tied with a narrow piece of brilliant green ribbon and sealed with dark green wax. The Gamp family coat-of-arms had been pressed into the seal. Minerva sat and looked at it.

Albus watched Minerva, bemused. It was just a letter, yet she was sitting there, holding it gingerly and making no move to open it.

"Are you going to read it now or set it aside for later?" Albus asked. "I won't mind either way." He picked up a spoon and began to eat the strawberries Minerva had brought him.

Minerva still sat there gazing at the letter as if she thought it might do something unexpected and dangerous at any moment.

"I've received many letters from Gertie over the years, Minerva," Albus said between bites, "and none have contained hidden poisons or curses. I would be happy to check it over for you, however, if that would help," he joked.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I was just wondering why she would send me a letter." Minerva remembered her promise to herself that she would explore that other aspect of her problem that was Gertrude Gamp. Now she wished that she already had done that. She had no idea why a letter from the Deputy Headmistress would make her so uneasy. It was foolish, really.

"Well, when I'm wondering why someone sent me a letter, I generally find a clue to the reason in its contents," Albus said with a smile. "And although as a Slytherin, Gertie's reasons may not be entirely contained within the letter itself, it is still an excellent place to begin, don't you think?"

"Of course," she replied, quickly breaking the seal and sliding the ribbon from the letter. Unfolding it, Minerva noticed the Gamp family crest adorned the parchment, as well. The McGonagalls had no wizarding family coat-of-arms, but Minerva could use a variant of her mother's Egidius crest, if she wished. Wizarding society had no official grant or registry for crests and coats-of-arms, and anyone who wished could design one for themselves; first use of a particular design established a right to the crest, which could be shared with family members or remain purely individual. Pure-blood families often had crests with long pedigrees, and they used them as a matter of course. Minerva's family, however, had never put any emphasis on such things – although she remembered that her grandmother, Siofra Tyree McGonagall, had used the Tyree crest occasionally.

Minerva put on her glasses and read the letter.

"4 July 1957

"Gertrude Gamp"

Finishing the letter, Minerva didn't know quite what to make of it. She read it through again. She had never considered Gertrude a particular friend and certainly had never expected to receive an invitation of this sort from her. In addition, Minerva clearly remembered that it had been Gertrude who had mentioned a holiday, and not herself.

"Well?" questioned Albus. "You needn't share it with me, of course, but I am very curious now, myself – especially since the letter has held your attention far longer than its length would normally prescribe."

"Oh, here. You can read it," Minerva said, handing him the letter. "I don't understand it at all."

Albus read it. "Well, it's an invitation to visit Gertie at her family home."

"Yes, I see that, Albus. I just don't understand the invitation. And I didn't mention a holiday yesterday, she did."

"Perhaps I can translate part of it for you?"

Minerva snorted. "As you said, it's an invitation."

"Hmm, yes. But it is an interesting one. And not simply because you did not expect it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, no doubt there is more here than I am able to read, but from her first paragraph, I would say that she is bored. She say, 'If you have not experienced the landscape here, I believe you will find it invigorating.' That's not to say that she doesn't like Cornwall, just that it's not new to her."

"But how . . . she didn't say anything about how she felt about it, Albus!"

"If someone else had written this, then I might agree with you. However, as un-Slytherin as you might sometimes find Professor Gamp, she did spend seven years in that House, not to mention that most of her family are Slytherin. What might be a straight-forward statement coming from someone else often has another layer of meaning when uttered by a Slytherin."

"That could be said of anyone, Albus."

"True, but given that this letter and invitation were so unexpected, and you yourself said you did not understand it, I think it fair to say that there is more to it than a superficial reading would reveal. Of course, it's your letter," he said, handing it back to her.

"All right, Albus." Minerva pushed the letter back toward him. "What else do you think you can read in there – I doubt she is inviting me down there just because she is bored."

Albus grinned. "Well, notice that she refers to 'the Gamp family home.' She doesn't refer to it as her home, but neither does she call it the 'Gamp Estate,' which she could have done. For some reason, she is emphasising the familial aspect of the home, but minimising her own connection with it. She then goes on to tell you that other family members will be visiting at the same time, and she thinks you probably won't like them much, but –"

"What?! She says nothing of the sort!"

"Oh, certainly she does. Here – she says, 'There are various family members visiting, so I believe that you would not fail to find some conversations of interest while you are here.' She doesn't say you'll meet anyone you would like, or that you would find the people themselves interesting – or even that you would engage in interesting conversations. No, I think she believes that you will dislike her relatives and find their conversations irritating or infuriating. And knowing some of her relatives myself, I believe she is correct."

"Oh. You just made that up based on what you know of her relatives, then." Minerva looked slightly put out.

"Well, obviously, knowing that helped, but even so, the sentence speaks for itself . . ." Albus ate another slice of strawberry.

"Why on earth would she invite me to visit a place she finds boring at a time when there are people there whom she thinks I won't like? Especially since it's not as though we are particularly close. We've never even invited each other to have tea, and now she is inviting me to spend a few days with her at her family home in Cornwall?"

"Well, my dear, I do think that part of the invitation is genuine. She thinks that you need a holiday after your first term teaching. Of course, she doesn't say the air of Cornwall or its landscape would be restorative, but that a few days spent in Cornwall with her would be restorative. Perhaps she has some particular plan for your visit." He finished the last of his strawberries.

"But she doesn't even like me!"

Albus looked up sharply. "Why would you say that, Minerva? I believe she thinks rather highly of you."

"I don't know. She never seemed to. Not that she's . . . well, let's just say that she and Hagrid have nothing in common, in terms of temperament. She's not particularly effusive." Minerva did not want to be rude and call Gertie a cold fish right to Albus's face, but she was not an especially warm and friendly person.

Albus just grinned at Minerva's comparison. "No, that she's not! But she is steadfast and principled, and if she decides you're a friend, a Hufflepuff couldn't be more loyal."

Minerva was very surprised by Albus's description of Gertie. Not that Minerva had ever lumped her in with the mass of conniving Slytherins with whom she had dealt in school, but to hear a Slytherin described as steadfast, loyal, and principled . . . well, either being sorted into Slytherin had been a hellish mistake or she had changed a great deal since she had been sorted.

Seeing the expression on Minerva's face, Albus looked at her seriously. "You know, Minerva, just because ambition can make many Slytherins unprincipled does not mean that ambition and principle are mutually exclusive. And although the House emphasises loyalty to oneself, that does not mean that a Slytherin is incapable of loyalty to anyone else – and not necessarily only for self-serving reasons."

"I'm sorry, Albus. I didn't mean . . . well, I didn't say anything like that about her. And I know that she is your friend. You've known and trusted her for a long time. So have I. Since you told me about the wards, in fact. I knew that you would not trust anyone who was not worthy of it – or at least, that you wouldn't do so for very long. I'm just confused by the invitation, I guess."

"I know. And I have not been particularly happy with the . . . trend in Slytherin over the last several decades, myself. Not that it has ever been a very . . . comfortable House for anyone who is not a Slytherin, but I do believe that some of their more noble traditions and beliefs have been de-emphasised or cast off whilst some of their. . . less progressive ideas and more ruthless beliefs have become exaggerated." Albus sighed.

Minerva decided that she would have to learn more about Slytherin House, especially now that she was teaching at Hogwarts. Apparently there was more to it than she had seen from her vantage point as a student. She had never thought of it as having any noble traditions or beliefs.

"Here, let me pour you more tea, Albus."

Albus studiously watched the teapot as she poured him another cup.

"I suppose that we should begin discussing school business soon," Minerva said with a slight sigh.

"Yes. I wish I could spend all day with you, but I do have some work to catch up on this afternoon."

Minerva brightened at his words. She couldn't help but smile. He wished he could spend all day with her! Of course, it was probably just an expression. "Yes, that would have been nice, but I understand. . . . You know, Albus, if there's anything I could help you with, I'd be happy to."

"I don't think so. Not this afternoon, anyway. It's mostly Ministry and Wizengamot business. I do have some Hogwarts business I would like your help with – your advice, chiefly. Perhaps we could bring our tea over to the couch and talk?"

Minerva was warmed by his words. He wanted her advice. Of course, it may be about something inconsequential, but still . . . . She got up and moved the plant stand in front of the couch and Transfigured it into a low coffee table. Albus carried his teacup and a scone over and set them on the little table. He smiled. "Quite utilitarian, isn't it, Minerva?"

"Well, it's what we needed," she began, somewhat flustered.

"I'm only teasing, Minerva. I just happen to be aware that you are capable of some rather ingenious Transfiguration, and yet you rarely express that talent, that's all." He smiled at her and sat down, patting the sofa beside him. "Join me?"

Minerva smiled slightly and did as he suggested. As she sat, she remembered how nice it had been to sit with him before dinner yesterday. She wished she could just cuddle up to him and blushed at the thought. Then she looked at him. "Ingenious Transfiguration? You don't think I've forgotten anything I've learned from you, do you, Albus?" She suddenly had a wicked grin on her face. Perhaps she could get what she wanted . . . it wasn't quite sporting of her, but she would deal with her conscience later.

"I didn't say that, Minerva –"

There was an almost inaudible pop and beside him sat a beautiful, proud tabby cat. Albus chuckled. "Well, I see you haven't forgotten how to transform – not that I ever expected that you would have!" he added hastily when the cat beside him rotated a single ear and laid her whiskers back. Albus reached out and petted her, stroking her head and back. Minerva arched and stretched, then flopped down beside him and lay her head on his lap, luxuriating in the rare pleasure of having Albus pet her. She was shameless, she thought as she began to purr, eyes closed in feline bliss.

Albus wished he felt free to do this when Minerva was in her ordinary form. No, he didn't! If he were to touch her like this, she would run screaming. Well, knowing Minerva, she'd probably hex him first, then run screaming. He sighed. He couldn't blame her. What witch, young or otherwise, would want an old crock like him touching her? She hadn't minded last night, he reminded himself. But that was different. She had viewed him as an old friend, emphasis on "old," comforting her.

Without her realising it, Minerva's paws had begun to knead the air in front of her. Seeing that, Albus smiled and lifted her more fully onto his lap, and she kneaded his thigh through the two layers of silk. Hmm. Maybe that had not been a good idea. Albus was always aware that the tabby cat was Minerva. He could feel her magical signature as clearly when she was in her Animagus form as he could when she was in her ordinary form. Although he saw a tabby cat kneading his leg, he felt Minerva McGonagall massaging it – granted, it was a rather prickly massage, but it still was having an unfortunate effect upon him. Thankfully, before his problem became acute, Minerva stopped and rolled over, stretching. She curled her paws in front of her and looked up at him.

"Hmm, yes, Minerva, you have perfected the 'I'm-a-cute-little-kitten and don't-you-want-to-rub-my-tummy so I-can-suddenly-turn-into-a-fierce-predator' act. You don't have me fooled!" Nonetheless, Albus gave in and rubbed her soft tummy, only to have his arm grabbed. Minerva kicked his arm a few times, very gently, before letting go.

"Now, I think you have proven your point, Minerva," Albus said with a smile. "You haven't lost your ingenuity."

Minerva yawned and stretched. It was lovely to be a cat. Rules of etiquette were quite different when one was a cat. Mid-stretch, she transformed back to her ordinary form and immediately blushed to find herself lying with her head in Albus's lap. She sat up quickly. Too quickly, as she banged him in the chin on the way up and then proceeded to roll off the couch with a thump.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Albus asked with a broad smile, looking down at Minerva as she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.

"It's much easier when you're a cat," she grumbled.

Albus couldn't help it. He laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry, my dear. I shouldn't laugh!"

She grinned up at him as he reached out to help her up. Settled back on the couch, Minerva pushed a stray hair from her face. Her carefully constructed bun must be coming down, she thought. "That's what you get when you taunt me about my Transfiguration skills, Albus."

"I shall bear that in mind, then. I do remember the embarrassment you inflicted upon Madame Feuilly at Beauxbatons. Quite vividly. I am sure that everyone else who was present that day does, too." He tried to maintain a straight face, but his blue eyes twinkled with merriment.

Minerva laughed. She hadn't thought of that in a long time. Fed up with the Ministry, Minerva had decided to apply for an apprenticeship in Transfiguration. She was a little older than most usually were when they started, but after consulting with Albus, she had been sure that she would be able to get a decent apprenticeship and finish it within a year or so, rather than the standard two or three years – although the master determined, within certain limitations, when the apprentice could apply to be admitted to fully Mastery, Albus had assured her that at her current level of accomplishment, any master worth his wand could bring her up to master level within a year or so.

Minerva soon found, however, that masters didn't want an apprentice who already came in knowing as much as she did. They relied on having an apprentice for at least two years, and they saw it as hardly worth their effort to work with a witch who would arrive at master level in half that time. Minerva had swallowed hard and begun to offer to include a minimum two-year term in her contract, but recent changes in international wizarding law made such a clause unenforceable: if a witch or wizard had reached master level and their master refused to present them for examination, the witch or wizard had recourse to an expedited and efficient grievance system. Masters could no longer exploit clearly qualified apprentices by keeping them on past the point at which their training should be complete. This meant that no matter what Minerva was willing to put in the contract, she could not sign away her right to grieve if a master did not present her at the end of a year, if she were ready to qualify at that time. No master was willing to take Minerva's word for it that she would not take advantage of that right.

Albus had offered to assist her in finding a suitable placement, but Minerva had proudly refused, feeling it would be cheating in some way. Finally, the Transfiguration mistress at Beauxbatons had offered to take her; she was willing to have an apprentice for twelve to eighteen months. Albus had looked somewhat dubious when Minerva had met him in a café in Edinburgh to give him the news. Madame Feuilly was not the most talented Transfiguration mistress in Europe, but she was willing to take Minerva, and so Minerva was willing to study under someone who was less talented than her former Transfiguration teacher.

Unfortunately, "less talented" was a kind understatement. Feuilly was competent at performing Transfiguration spells. Barely. She understood the rudiments of Transfiguration theory. Rudiments that Minerva had mastered by her fourth year at Hogwarts. Her method of teaching at Beauxbatons consisted of assigning rote memorisation of the text book and a very unimaginative and basic series of practical exercises. No one at Beauxbatons had taken the French equivalent of a NEWT in Transfiguration in more than ten years, and few students studied Transfiguration after the first four years required by the school.

Needless to say, Minerva was extremely unhappy once the reality of the situation hit her. The only way that she could be allowed out of the apprenticeship early would be if Madame Feuilly agreed to release her. Which she refused to do. Feuilly justified herself by saying, correctly, that no other master would consider taking a witch who had been previously released from an apprenticeship. Minerva felt resigned to reading and grading very dull student essays on very dull topics written in very poor French. The two women avoided each other, and Madame Feuilly did not even make a pretense of attempting to teach Minerva anything, for which Minerva was very glad. If Feuilly had been capable of learning anything, Minerva could have taught her.

One day, in Beauxbatons' excellent library, Minerva ran across something called the "Apprentice's Challenge." It was an old tradition that had never been abolished, although no one had used it in Transfiguration for at least two hundred fifty years. Essentially, the apprentice challenged her master to a duel – not a combat, but a competition. There were set spells that each had to perform in front of an audience, followed by a free-form challenge. The competition would be judged by three other masters from the same field and two masters from unrelated fields. If three of the five judged the apprentice to be "more fit" than the master, the apprentice was released. This did not mean that the apprentice received Mastery, but it would mean that Minerva would be freed from what she considered an intolerable situation. She knew it would be unlikely that she would ever be accepted by another master after such a performance, but decided that she had nothing to lose.

Proud of her daughter, Egeria still kept the clippings from the Daily Prophet, Transfiguration Today, and the French wizarding newspaper, Le Voyant Clair. The newspapers were not kind to the French Transfiguration mistress. To have called Minerva's victory a rout would have been like calling a solar flare a slight spark. Minerva felt a bit bad afterwards; Madame Feuilly was completely humiliated and left Beauxbatons at the end of the school year never to return. Feuilly had brought it on herself, Minerva reasoned. Right up to the point at which Minerva had made the formal Challenge, Feuilly could have been reasonable and released Minerva, but she hadn't. Once the Challenge was issued, there was no going back. Minerva had given Madame Feuilly the three written warnings required by custom and had also spoken with her personally, practically begging the older woman to see reason and release her before she made the Challenge. Minerva never knew if Feuilly had simply believed that Minerva would never go through with it, or if she had believed that the competition would be rigged in her favour by the other masters, or if she genuinely (and quite naively) believed that she could defeat Minerva.

One fortunate side effect of Minerva's Challenge, however, was that Beauxbatons began producing students who were well-trained in Transfiguration. Minerva had met two of them who were visiting London on holiday. She was working in the Office of Experimental Transfiguration when a colleague stuck his head through her door and told her that two French girls were looking for her. At least he thought they were looking for her – they didn't know her last name and had just said they were looking for "Minerve, la grande dame de la Metamorphosis." Minerva was embarrassed when they came in and gawked at her. They were fifth-year Transfiguration students at Beauxbatons and had heard the "legend" of how the previous teacher had been driven away by the English Transfiguration apprentice, "Minerve," and thus created a new era of Transfiguration studies at their school. They were surprised that "Minerve" was so young – at sixteen, they thought anything that had happened before they arrived at the school had to be ancient history.

Sitting there in her room at Hogwarts, laughing with Albus, Minerva felt as though it really had been ancient history, and that nothing that had happened before that moment mattered. He was so handsome, blue eyes twinkling as he smiled at her. Yes, if she could maintain this friendship with him, she would be happy, Minerva thought. It would be enough, more than she deserved, and she would be lucky to have it. She ignored her present longing to throw her arms around him as she laughed – to hold him not out of any sexual desire, but just out of her sense of joy and love for him. Yes, she would make this friendship suffice. It was more than she could have hoped for. Albus brought joy into her life; she would learn how to overcome any pain arising from the necessity of retaining a greater distance from him than she desired. And his happiness was paramount. If there were anything that made him happy, Minerva would be happy for him. Even if his happiness resided in another person . . .

Albus smiled at Minerva and thought that nothing mattered if Minerva were here at Hogwarts with him. It had caused him trouble with the Board of Governors when he refused to hire a new Transfiguration teacher after he had become Headmaster. It was not the most propitious way to begin his relationship with the Board, but it also had given him the opportunity to assert his authority as Headmaster and win. And now he had his dear Minerva here. She seemed to be happy in his company – just as he was in hers, Albus thought, with the understanding, of course, that his happiness was mixed with other feelings that she certainly did not possess. But this, yes, this was worth putting aside his own discomfort, to be able to spend time with her. It would be enough, more than he could expect.

They heard a rap at the door, then the Silent Knight lumbered through the landscape frame, followed by his dog. The Knight bowed and the dog barked.

Catching her breath, Minerva said, "I'm not expecting anyone. If that knight wasn't so useless, he could tell me who it is." She pushed herself up off the couch. "Excuse me just a minute, Albus."

When Minerva opened the door to her, Poppy could see that any worries she had about her friend were for naught. Minerva was pink-cheeked and smiling, hair straggling out from her bun, and behind her, Poppy could see Albus sitting, head half-turned toward the door, on the sofa, and the remains of the couple's breakfast on the table by the window.

"Good morning, Minerva. I came by to see how you were and ask if you'd had your breakfast yet, but I see that you have," said Poppy with a smile and a quirked eyebrow.

"Yes, the Headmaster and I just had breakfast. We are meeting now about, um, Hogwarts."

"I came by last night to see if you were all right," Poppy said in a low voice, "but you weren't in. I was a little worried, especially since you weren't at dinner."

"I was meeting with the Headmaster," Minerva responded quietly. "We missed dinner."

"I see." Poppy looked past Minerva at the remains of their breakfast. She grinned broadly. "I see! Well, we'll just have to get together later." In a louder voice, she said, "I'm sorry to have interrupted your meeting, Albus. 'Bye, Minerva!" Poppy winked at her friend.

Suddenly realising the conclusion that Poppy must have drawn, Minerva blushed. "I will talk to you later, Poppy. I'll come by the hospital wing. Good bye." Minerva shut the door without waiting for a response, and leaned on it. Her face was burning with embarrassment, and Albus would notice and want to know why.

"It's nice that you have such a good friend, Minerva," Albus said from his place on the couch. "It was good of her to come by and check on you. When I saw her yesterday afternoon, she had said she would drop by to see you in the evening. I didn't think to mention it to you." When Minerva didn't turn around, Albus got up and came around the couch. "Are you all right, my dear?"

"Yes, yes, of course, Albus. It's just that . . . that it all reminded me of yesterday morning, that's all." Minerva turned, relieved that she had found a plausible excuse for her embarrassment.

"Oh, my dear, I do hope you are able to look back at that and laugh someday. It really wasn't so horrible, you know. Just think, we wouldn't have had dinner last night – or breakfast this morning – if it weren't for our mutual indiscretions."

Minerva gaped at him. "Mutual? You didn't do anything! You keep acting as though everything was your fault. Even last night, you would not let me apologise properly." Forgetting that her distress about the incident was supposed to be feigned, just a cover for her embarrassment that Poppy had thought that she and Albus had, had . . . had spent uninterrupted time together since dinner yesterday, Minerva now became genuinely upset. "How am I supposed to look back and laugh when it still makes me cringe to think about it?"

Albus didn't know what to say. He wanted to say that he was sorry, but it seemed that Minerva didn't want to hear that. "Perhaps it would help if you talked about it?" he offered.

Minerva sighed. They had been having a nice time, and she had to ruin it. "I don't know, Albus."

He took her arm gently. "Come, sit with me, Minerva." As he said that, it occurred to him that he would have to be very careful and not do anything unwise.

They resumed the places they had occupied before Poppy had arrived. Albus stayed quiet. He knew that he had a tendency to want to "fix" everything, but it seemed that he could not fix this, and that it might be best for Minerva if he just let her talk.

"Albus, I want you to understand that I really do appreciate everything you did yesterday. The dinner was wonderful, your apology . . . it meant more to me than you can possibly imagine. And I know that you planned it that way in order to please me, to show me that you didn't mean to hurt my feelings. But Albus, you never gave me a genuine opportunity to apologise for what you overheard me say." Albus opened his mouth as if to speak, but Minerva held up her hand. "Please let me finish what I have to say this morning. I let you interrupt me last night every time I tried to apologise, but I won't this morning. You can say what you like when I'm done."

Albus nodded. Minerva sighed and closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts. It was so difficult to apologise when you could only reveal a small portion of your feelings.

"Albus, you know that what I said, I said in the heat of the moment, after a long build up. You know that I felt . . . neglected, I suppose, or that you didn't respect me." She looked up at him. Albus remained silent, listening to her attentively. "I certainly had no right to feel neglected, nor to have any expectations from you except that you would treat me as a Headmaster treats one of his teachers, and I know now, of course, that you did not act out of any disrespect for me, either. It's just that . . . you know how a person can have certain hopes and expectations when they start something new? Well, I came to Hogwarts with certain hopes and expectations, and it seemed that . . ." Here, Minerva swallowed and gathered her courage. "It seemed that my greatest hope, which I had feared was simply unrealistic, had been completely foolish." Minerva looked at her hands, which she had been wringing in her lap. She stilled them with an effort, but did not look up. "I had hoped that we might continue our friendship. That we might become . . . better friends, I suppose. And my hope was raised after you came to the house-warming that Poppy had for me. I didn't harbour any illusions that we would be able to see each other like that all of the time once term started, of course. But I felt that I never saw you at all. And it got so that I would look forward to every meeting we had – not that there were many – no matter what the subject, and yet you were late to every one of them."

Minerva's voice had fallen to a whisper. "I know that you have apologised and explained, Albus. And you needn't apologise again. I understand, and it's all right. I accepted your apology immediately and without any reservations. I am just trying to explain to you – and to myself – my state of mind yesterday morning. I was hurt and angry – and I should have talked to you earlier, I know. But as I said last night, each incident seemed too petty to become upset over, and I care about you so much, I did not want to seem to be demanding anything of you. After I left your office yesterday morning, I just kept going over in my head every little thing that you hadn't done, and I forgot all of the wonderful things you have done for me – not just in the last six months, but ever since I have known you. By the time I had finished telling Poppy about your rescheduling our appointment because you had to meet with Gertrude and then condition your beard, I had worked myself into quite a state."

Minerva swallowed and looked up at Albus again, who was gazing at her with a knitted brow. "I want you to know two things at least, Albus, and please, please believe me. First, I have never said anything like that about you before to anyone – not even just to myself. And second, I would never, ever want to hurt your feelings. I can only imagine what you felt when you heard what I said, especially since you refuse to talk to me about it. And that's all right. You don't need to if you don't want to. But I want you to know that I care for you so, I would rather cut out my tongue than think I would ever deliberately say anything that would hurt you. I am very sorry, Albus. Please forgive me."

Albus cleared his throat and blinked hard. Tears had come into his eyes during the last part of Minerva's apology. "Minerva. Of course. You know that I forgave any hurt you might have inadvertently caused me, even before we met at lunch." He cleared his throat again and reached a hand out to one of hers. A sense of relief flooded him when she took it. "You say that I refused to talk to you about how I felt. But that's not it. I just could see that I had caused you a far greater hurt, and much more directly. You did not know that I was standing there, listening to what you were saying. And although I did not deliberately set out to hurt you, my actions were of a very different nature. It was easy to forgive you, my dear Minerva. Since you seem to need to know how I felt when I overheard what you said, I did feel stunned and hurt. I had no idea that . . . well, I feared that you might . . . You must know that I care for you, Minerva, and for a moment I feared that everything I had believed . . . I feared . . ." For all that Albus had claimed that he was no longer affected by what Minerva had said, he seemed unable to articulate what he had feared.

"You feared that I was so angry that we weren't friends any longer? Or that I didn't care for you?" asked Minerva.

Albus nodded, looking at their joined hands. Somehow while he had been talking, Minerva had taken his other hand in hers and held them both. "I thought you might even – and I know this will sound ridiculous, it did to me even as I feared it – but I thought you might even . . . hate me," he ended in a whisper. How could he be the wizard who defeated Grindelwald, he wondered, when he could barely force out those absurd words?

"Oh, Albus!" Minerva let go of his hands, and Albus felt suddenly bereft until he discovered himself in her embrace. "Oh, Albus, I could never hate you. You are right," she said, drawing back slightly to look at him, "it does sound ridiculous. But it's all right, because I had the same fear, you know." She smiled at him.

Albus found his arms around her. He held her close and shut his eyes. Oh, she was wonderful, wonderful. He lay his cheek against her forehead and just held her. "I think I like it when you apologise. I should have let you do it last night," he whispered. Minerva seemed to melt against him.

"Last night was your turn; this morning is mine," she replied. Oh, God, she didn't want to let him go. Yet he didn't seem to mind. Finally, Minerva forced herself to sit back away from him, though she left her arms loosely at his sides. "I don't suppose we should insult each other just so that we can do that again," she said with a slight smile. She was not sure she should have said it, it came out before she could stop herself, but Albus smiled in response.

"No, my dear, I think that the next time, we should skip the insults." He wanted to add, and proceed directly to the embrace, but he didn't.

"Well, I must look quite a mess by now, my hair, especially," she said, trying to change the subject.

"Your hair is lovely, Minerva. Although perhaps not as . . . perfect as it was earlier."

Minerva smiled and could feel a slight warmth creep into her cheeks. "I still think I should take a minute to fix it. And we should probably get another pot of tea, don't you think?" Without waiting for his reply, she stood and called, "Blampa!"

Blampa appeared with a sharp pop. "Yes, Professor Minerva? How may Blampa serve?"

"Blampa, we would like a fresh pot of tea, and you may clear the breakfast things, except for the scones, butter and marmalade – unless you'd like anything else, Albus? – yes, and you may leave the ginger newts, as well."

"Did Professor Minerva and her Professor Headmaster have a nice breakfast?" Blampa asked.

Minerva found Blampa a house-elf of many contradictions. She was terrified of doing anything wrong, cringed and whinged whenever she thought she'd displeased Minerva, and yet here she was asking whether their breakfast had been nice. She supposed it was a new way Blampa had to fish for compliments.

"Yes, Blampa, it was very good. Thank you. You did a good job."

Blampa bounced with happiness. "Good, good! Now I, Blampa, get Professor Minerva and her Professor Headmaster very nice tea! Yes! Yes!" With a final shout of "Yes!" Blampa popped out and was followed by all of the used breakfast dishes.

"So, that is the house-elf that Wilspy spoke of last night."

"Mmm. Did you notice she brought ginger newts for our breakfast? I am going to have to explain to her that ginger newts are not required at every meal, I believe."

"Does she always refer to herself that way?" Albus asked with an amused smile.

"That's new. I am trying to get her to speak more properly; that is as far as we have come. The contrast is a bit peculiar, isn't it – her high, squeaking voice and that somewhat pompous sounding 'I, Blampa'?" Minerva grinned. "Well, I'm going to make myself more presentable. I'll just be a minute, Albus."

"That's fine, my dear. I won't go anywhere!" He wanted to reach out and touch her again, but he couldn't. She wasn't the type to go about hugging everyone, so Albus doubted there was much danger that Minerva would hug him again for a long while, but if she did, he would have to discourage her. It was too difficult for him to hold her and then let her go. Not to mention that he was wary of having his not-so-little "problem" pop up again. That would be disastrous. She may care about him and not wish to hurt him, but he knew that if she had any inkling of the true nature of his feelings, she would not want to have anything to do with him. Even worse, Minerva might pity him, poor, pathetic old sod that he was. Albus could not bear the thought that she might pity him as a decrepit fool in his dotage. He would have to learn how to live with his feelings and take control of his body without resorting to Cooling Charms, that was all there was to it.