XXXVI: Dinner and Dessert

PART SEVEN

XXXVI: Dinner and Dessert

Albus entered his office to find Fawkes asleep on his perch, head tucked under one wing. As he crossed the room, he noticed that Minerva had left the parchments for him on his desk. The second thing he noticed was that one of the stacks of parchment was askew. Albus knew he had not left them that way. Looking more closely, he saw the bottom-most parchments peeking out from beneath the others. His lists. The lists he had made . . . was it only yesterday? He should have put them away – or destroyed them. But perhaps Minerva hadn't seen them. Curious, though, that the parchments were disturbed and that those particular ones were visible.

Apprehensive, he came around the desk and moved the inkwell aside from where Minerva had place it atop the advertisement. She had left him a note. Albus pulled his glasses from his pocket and put them on before sitting down to read her note. As he read the final paragraph, he was puzzled. He doubted that she would make something like that up. He had always trusted her, and he didn't believe that she would gratuitously search his papers. But when he had left that afternoon, the three parchments were safely sitting on his desk.

"Phineas! Phineas Nigellus! I know you're not asleep."

"What do you want now? It's not term time. Don't you ever take a holiday?" grumbled the former Slytherin headmaster.

"Did anyone come into my office while I was out this afternoon?"

"That Transfiguration person was here, but I slept through her visit. You'll have to ask Dilys."

"No one else?"

"I was asleep. I don't see everything, you know."

Dilys Derwent was not in her frame. Probably off visiting St. Mungo's. Albus was perplexed. Minerva had said that she may have inadvertently seen "confidential documents." Given the state of his desk, that could only mean that she had seen his lists. She had seemed perfectly friendly down on the lawn just now. Although she had given him an odd look when he mentioned his office. . . .

He would have to put it out of his mind until he could speak with Dilys. Albus considered the suggestions Minerva had made regarding his advertisement. Yes, he agreed with all of them, including the one about the description of Hogwarts. But he'd never hear the last of it from certain School Governors if he weren't to include that bit about Hogwarts' "preeminence." Albus took out a fresh parchment and rewrote the advertisement, adding Minerva's suggestions. He then duplicated it several times, addressed each advertisement, and included one for Bestial Byways. The journals would invoice the school and he would have the money transferred from Hogwarts' Gringotts account.

As Albus finished that bit of work, he looked up to see that Dilys Derwent had returned and was sleeping in her rocking chair.

"Dilys, Phineas tells me that you were here when I had a visitor this afternoon."

"Yes, that nice young Professor McGonagall was here. Such a lovely young lady."

"Was anyone else here?"

"Visitors? Guests?" she asked. "No. She was your only visitor."

Albus was no fool, and Dilys was no Slytherin. "Who else was here, then?"

"Well, Fawkes, of course . . . and I believe that your house-elf came in to tidy up at some point," she replied somewhat evasively.

"Wilspy!"

"Yes, sir, Professor?" said the house-elf after popping in.

"Were you in my office this afternoon?"

"Wilspy cleans. Wilspy dusts. Wilspy empties Fawkes's tray of phoenix droppings."

"'Wilspy' does, does she? What else did 'Wilspy' do?" Whenever Wilspy began to speak more like a typical house-elf, Albus was sure that something was up.

"Wilspy may have had a little tiny accident, Professor Dumbledore, sir," squeaked the elf.

"Wilspy, just tell me – normally – what you did."

"When I's dusting. It may be there's a bit of . . . just a little bit of a draught, sir. Dusting can do that, sir."

"Mmm. And it did not occur to you to pick up the parchments and put them back on the desk and to straighten the other piles?"

"Oh, no, sir! You tells me, you says, 'Wilspy, do not touch my parchments if I do not ask you to.' So I not touch your parchments, sir. No! I's a good house-elf!"

Albus gave the elf a sharp look. "Very well, Wilspy. But please, in the future, if you accidentally disturb my parchments, you may put them back where they were. Professor McGonagall had difficulty finding the work I had left for her."

"Yes, sir. Next time Wilspy has an accident with parchments, Wilspy will put them back where they were."

"Thank you, Wilspy. You may go now." Albus was still uneasy. If he didn't know better, he would think that the house-elf had disturbed his parchments on purpose. But she had said that she wouldn't touch them. He sighed. He hoped that Minerva hadn't been offended by the lists he'd made. He didn't doubt that she had read them once she saw them. And it would explain her oblique reference to "confidential papers."

It was almost time for dinner. He would see Minerva shortly; perhaps he could ask her about it after dinner. If not, they were meeting tomorrow. He didn't quite know what to say to her. Albus removed his glasses and rested his head in his hands. He had no time for this sort of thing. Between the Ministry and the school, he felt stretched thin. Gertrude had been a saving ghim. Steady as a rock, that one. And thank goodness the Governors hadn't given him a hard time when he had appointed a non-Head of House as Deputy. It was highly irregular, but he clearly couldn't ask Dustern; their uneasy truce of the last fifteen or sixteen years would have come to an abrupt and explosive end within weeks, he was certain. And Slughorn, as agreeable as the Slytherin Head of House was, was not particularly diligent, and Albus doubted that he would have applied himself to any aspect of the job that he did not believe would bring him some direct benefit. Grubbly-Plank had enough getting on with as Head of Gryffindor, which was a challenge to the taciturn teacher. There was Johannes Birnbaum, of course. He might have done, Albus supposed. But Albus doubted that the German Herbology teacher had any aptitude for the more practical aspects of running a school. Even with his hands in the earth, Johannes always seemed something of a poet to Albus. Now, of course, he knew that Johannes would be leaving the school at the end of the next year, anyway.

Yes, Albus was very glad for Gertie's assistance, given, he knew, out of genuine loyalty and affection for him, although he was certain that others read different motivations into her actions. He smiled thinking of some of the time they had spent together – not always comfortable time, to be sure, but certainly invigorating, even when they disagreed and argued. He hoped that Gertie would return from Cornwall a little earlier than she planned. She knew that Albus wanted her there for the warding, although her presence wasn't necessary.

Albus grinned remembering Minerva's reaction that morning when she had received the invitation from Gertie. It had been unexpected to him, as well, although not the surprise it had been to Minerva. His brow furrowed as he remembered Minerva's words, "But she doesn't even like me!" He hoped that perhaps a few days in Cornwall would alter Minerva's attitude toward Gertie. Not that Minerva had ever expressed dislike for the Arithmancy teacher – although she probably wouldn't have to him, since it must be obvious that he was friends with Gertie. Perhaps that was why Gertie had invited her. The older witch knew that he was fond of his former Animagus student, after all. She probably wanted to extend a hand in friendship. Albus smiled. It would be good if the two of them got along.

He set off for the Great Hall, wanting to arrive on time. Everyone insisted on keeping to the tradition that had been set in Headmaster Dippet's day that dinner would not be served until the Headmaster was at the table – unless Albus wasn't in the castle or he had informed the house-elves that he would not be dining in the Great Hall, everyone had to wait for him to arrive. He would have to change that sometime. Not just yet. It seemed important to the staff that Albus come to dinner. He thought that for Headmaster Dippet, it was a point of his authority that no one could eat until he arrived; for Albus, on the other hand, it was something of a nuisance, more of a restriction on him than a restriction on the waiting diners. Besides, Albus never let them wait, if he could help it. For some reason, though, now that Albus was Headmaster, no one grumbled about the rule anymore. Or maybe they were too diplomatic to say anything. Given the limited time he had to spend with his staff, Albus supposed it was also possible some of the staff saw this as their one opportunity during the day to see him. At least it was only dinner and not lunch, as well.

Albus remembered his promise to Minerva that morning to reconsider his priorities. It hadn't been precisely a promise, he supposed, but he did want to make sure that he made more time for her and for other people who were important in his life. And he would.

Albus was glad to see that only a few people had arrived for dinner – Minerva and Hagrid were sitting together, chatting, and Johannes Birnbaum and Hafrena MacAirt were sitting on the other side of the table examining a colourful chart. The only other staff left in the castle were Poppy, Wilhelmina, and Norman James. Ogg, who rarely attended meals outside of term, anyway, had left that morning to spend the summer with his family, as had Livia Perlecta; several others who hadn't left already would be leaving soon. Yes, definitely time to move the meals to the staff room, he thought. Staff came and went fairly freely during the summer, unless they had specific duties to attend to, such as the warding in August. As Headmaster, Albus didn't have that luxury, and although when Gertrude returned, he would be freer to come and go, he doubted that he would.

Without hesitation, Albus took the seat on Minerva's left. As soon as he was at the table, the meal appeared before them. Gradually the last few staff straggled in. Poppy sat next to Hagrid, with Norman next to her; when Wilhelmina arrived, she sat between Norman and Johannes. Albus noticed that she and Hagrid didn't speak; they barely even looked at each other. A far cry from their behaviour yesterday at lunch, he thought. Well, Hagrid was talking to Poppy about the health benefits of bee balm.

Albus turned to Minerva, who was eating her dinner with a good appetite, he was pleased to see. He thought she had not been eating well lately – probably due to his insensitivity.

"Minerva, if you have no plans after dinner, I was wondering if you would care for a walk?"

"I – I thought we were meeting tomorrow, Albus."

"Oh, we are. This isn't business, really. Just a few things I thought we could discuss." Seeing her blanch slightly, he put down his glass of cider and patted her leg. "No worries, Minerva. I just thought we could have a word."

When his hand touched her thigh, Minerva thought she would expire right there and then. A rush of warmth flooded her and she could feel her pulse increase at Albus's touch. She blinked, startled, "Yes, yes, of course."

Minerva reached for her own glass of cider and almost knocked it over before catching it and raising it to her lips. She had gone from being nervous that he was upset with her about the parchments to being highly aroused by his touch in less than a second. It was all very well for her to tell herself that she would simply not act on her feelings for Albus, but she really must do something about these physical responses. Thank goodness Albus hadn't noticed, but had begun to eat his meal again.

Next to her, Albus had quickly resumed eating his roast chicken. That had been an error on his part. He had simply meant to comfort her by giving her a reassuring pat. He should have patted her shoulder or her arm, Albus thought. Her gown was a thin summer-weight silk, and he had felt her leg through it as though he had been touching her naked thigh. The sensation had streamed through him, bypassing his brain entirely and shooting straight to his groin. Fortunately, dinner had just begun, there would be time for his reaction to pass, and the robes he was wearing that evening had more drape to them than the blue ones he had worn that morning. He would have to do something to control his physical reactions, though; if he were to allow himself to continue to act on his love for Minerva as a friend, he could not let this recurrent problem go unaddressed. Fortunately, Minerva hadn't seemed to notice his reaction and was drinking her cider.

Albus and Minerva chatted a bit as they ate. Minerva asked about his trip to London, and he mentioned how much warmer it was there than at Hogwarts. "I was tempted to get some ice cream at Fortescue's, but I wanted to get back to the castle."

"You should have, Albus. You need to make time for yourself, you know. And Fortescue's ice cream is one of the few things I miss about not living in London."

"Was it very difficult, then, moving back here after having your own life for so long?" he asked.

"No, not really. Things were different than I'd expected, of course. But we never really know what to expect from a new situation, do we? But teaching took so much of my time – and I enjoyed it so much – that I didn't really think about anything I might have left behind in my London life. What was it like for you, when you returned to teach? You had been gone so long, it must have seemed like an entirely different place. And you must have left a lot behind, yourself."

"As you say, teaching is time-consuming. And you are aware that I had many other duties. I was so occupied, I never considered that I might have been somewhere else, doing anything other than what I was doing here at Hogwarts."

Minerva thought about what he'd said. It wasn't as though her own statement had been particularly revealing, but Albus had known her these past dozen or more years since she'd left school, and he knew what she had been doing, more or less. Albus never talked to her about his past, and, she had to admit, he never really told her much about his present life, either. Even when they met in London, he would ask her about what she was doing, but when he spoke of himself, it was usually only of his duties as teacher, then as Headmaster, and as a member of the Wizengamot. They spoke of articles that recently appeared in Transfiguration journals, occasionally of politics, or of news they had of one of her former classmates, but Albus rarely spoke of himself. It had always been that way. She wondered whether he ever spoke to anyone of his own feelings, of his wants and needs, of his friendships and frustrations, or if he had simply developed the habit over the years of keeping these things to himself, isolated by his responsibilities.

Albus had had so many burdens to carry during the years she had known him at school, and he had carried those burdens alone, as far as she knew. Although his load may have lessened somewhat with the defeat of Grindelwald, surely he must wish that he had someone to share things with, even if it was just as a friendly ear. But perhaps he did have that friendly ear, Minerva thought. It was not as though she had been there on a daily basis for him to turn to. And he wouldn't have, anyway, at least not immediately after she had left school. Their interactions after the incident in France during the war were proof of that, and she hadn't been his student for more than a year at that point. He had not wanted her comfort, her "friendly ear," then. Perhaps he still wouldn't.

After the events of the last two days, though, Minerva thought it worth trying to be more of a friend to Albus, if he would let her – and if she could control her physical response to his presence and his touch. Perhaps she should break out her old Occlumency texts. Those exercises should help her to gain some control over herself.

They had finished the main course and dessert appeared on the table. Albus stayed Minerva's hand as she reached for a plate with a fruit tart on it. "Let's skip dessert tonight, my dear. Take a walk with me?"

Minerva, surprised, nodded. Albus led her out through the French doors at the far end of Great Hall, directly out onto the grounds. As they walked down the path leading to the main courtyard, the pea-stones crunching beneath their feet, Albus seemed to have a destination in mind. Just as Minerva was about to ask him where they were going, however, he spoke.

"I looked at your suggestions. They were all very good, and I got the advertisements all ready to send off. The only one I did not incorporate was the one about the description of Hogwarts. Although I agree with you, there are members of the Board of Governors who do feel we should tout our own worth at every opportunity. It is a small thing, so I do not disappoint them," he said with a twinkle.

"I'm glad I could help, Albus," Minerva replied, smiling.

"I read with interest the final paragraph of your note," Albus said as they began walking down the long drive to the main gates.

"Yes, well, I didn't want you to think I had snooped," Minerva said hesitantly.

Albus was glad that they were walking side by side; it was a bit easier to broach the subject. He didn't want to seem as though he were interrogating her, and he was a little embarrassed if she had seen what he thought she had. "So, by 'confidential documents,' I presumed you meant that you saw the lists that I made yesterday morning."

"Yes. I didn't mean to look through your private things; it was as I said in my note. I'm afraid, though, that once I saw what the topics were on that first sheet, I pulled it out to take a closer look at it. I'm sorry, Albus. I did only look at part of it, though, and then I put it back."

"I'm surprised at you, Minerva," Albus said.

"I am sorry, really –"

"I am quite surprised that your curiosity wasn't overwhelming and that you didn't read it all," he said with a teasing grin.

"Oh!" Minerva laughed slightly. "I was curious, but it didn't feel right. I didn't think you had intended that I see them – or did you?" she asked, looking over at him.

"No, I didn't. But there really wasn't anything on those lists that we hadn't discussed. I was a little nervous that you were offended by them, but you had seemed friendly when we met after I returned from London, so I assumed you weren't. You weren't, were you, my dear?"

"I was a little startled at first, I suppose, but it was touching, really, to think you had expended so much effort to try to divine what was going through my mind. Especially since I could tell from the first few entries on one of the lists that what I had said did bother you. But you put that aside out of concern for me."

They were approaching the gates, and Albus stopped and reached out to touch her arm lightly. "You were my primary concern, Minerva." He wanted to tell her that she would always be his primary concern, but he didn't, he couldn't. "I am glad you understood the spirit in which I wrote them."

He led her through the gates.

"I did feel bad again that you could have ever entertained the notion that I might, what was it you said on the list, that I might 'hold you in contempt,' Albus, but I was also pleased to see that that particular entry had been vehemently crossed out!" Minerva smiled at him.

"Yes, well, as I said this morning, it was a ridiculous thought." Albus dismissed his earlier worries.

"Where are we going, Albus?"

"Ah, well, my dear, would you trust me for a moment?"

"Of course, but –"

"But? Do you trust me or not?"

"Yes, I do, Albus." Minerva smiled at him and shook her head. Silly, dear man.

"Then, my dear, close your eyes."

Minerva did as he said, then felt him grasp her upper arms and step closer to her. A shiver went through her as she felt the tingle of his proximity. Then she felt the familiar sense of Side-Along-Apparition. Unlike their first Side-Along, however, this one began and ended with a small crack, and when Minerva opened her eyes, she felt slightly woozy. As Albus released her arms, she stepped back away from him and reeled slightly. He reached out and steadied her.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I don't get sick anymore. Just a bit dizzy. And a little nauseous." With Albus's hand still holding her arm, she looked around. They were in a small side alleyway off of Diagon Alley. "You Apparated us to London?"

"Yes, I thought we might have some of that ice cream that you miss and that I neglected to treat myself to this afternoon. It will be much nicer in your company." Albus smiled brightly at her.

Oh, dear, if he continued to treat her like this, she would end up behaving like a fool who was head over heels in love. But she could not say "no" to his sweet idea and his warm smile. "That sounds lovely, Albus. Thank you!"

Minerva didn't even think about her plan to try to get him to open up and tell her more about himself. Lying in bed later that night, she could only think of how wonderful it had been to spend time with him and of how thoughtful he was. After their ice cream, they had strolled through Diagon Alley together, and people would nod at Albus and smile, or stop to shake his hand and exchange a few words, but he never let her feel ignored, and he always introduced her to whomever he spoke, then they would walk on. He asked her how she felt about chamber music, and she laughed and told him that she hadn't really been exposed to it much before Melina had come to London for her training. Melina had sought out Muggle concerts whenever she had an opportunity, and she had often brought her aunt along. Melina particularly enjoyed piano concerts, but she had also brought Minerva to a number of chamber concerts. Minerva herself enjoyed Baroque music particularly; there was something about the orderliness of it that she found serenely calming. Bach especially appealed to her, she told Albus.

They agreed that during the summer, while they both had some time, they should try to go to a concert or two. The two Apparated separately back to the gates, since Minerva did not want to end her evening with nausea. She had offered to Apparate Albus back, since he had Apparated long-distance twice that day, but he claimed he wasn't tired and could manage just fine. He walked her back to her room and took her hand to bid her good-night. Minerva thought Albus might kiss it again in his courtly fashion, but he didn't; he just held her hand for a moment and gave it a gentle squeeze before wishing her pleasant dreams.

Minerva wanted to invite him in, but that seemed wrong to her. It had felt almost like a date, she mused as she lay in bed. If she had invited him in, she would have felt that even more strongly, and she couldn't afford to let her feelings be led astray like that. If she were to do that, soon she would have herself believing that Albus loved her. Although . . . he probably did, after a fashion. Albus was one of the most loving people Minerva had ever met, and she would be denying him his due if she were to pretend that he couldn't love her in some way. She just had to maintain her perspective, Minerva thought as she lay in bed with the cool night breeze washing across her face. Maintain her perspective and begin practising some Occlumency exercises.

But Minerva fell asleep that night with a smile, happier than she ever remembered being.

Author's Note: If you're enjoying this story, I am now posting a series of drabbles titled "Circadian Rhythm," which consists of four sets of five drabbles apiece, featuring a wide variety of HP characters, including Albus, Minerva, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Arabella Figg, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, and others. They're fast reads, and many are humorous.