LXVI: Many Meetings

LXVI: Many Meetings

Minerva changed her robes, feeling somewhat sticky after her Animagus outing, and put on the saffron and raspberry robes that were fast becoming her favourites, and which Albus had seemed to like. As she rearranged her hair, she wished she knew of some self-Obliviate spell she could use to selectively remove a portion of the memory of what she had witnessed in Hagrid's gardens. Despite her embarrassment, though, Minerva was determined to talk to Wilhelmina about it. If the teacher had taken advantage of Hagrid when he was a youth, or worse, a child, Minerva would see to it that the witch paid for it. Otherwise, she would just stay out of it and be available to provide Hagrid with support and friendship after Wilhelmina left Hogwarts.

An owl flew into Minerva's bedroom, a small scroll of parchment clutched in its talons. The little owl didn't wait for a treat or a response, but just flew back out the open window after depositing the scroll on the vanity in front of her. A school owl, most likely.

Minerva broke the purple wax seal on the parchment. A note from Albus.

"14 July 1957

"Albus"

After witnessing Hagrid and Wilhelmina in the garden, Minerva had completely forgotten the slight offense she had taken when Albus had dismissed her after the meeting that morning. From the sound of this note, however, it seemed that she really had been over-sensitive. He mentioned their pre-breakfast meeting, after all, and he said that he had enjoyed it. But then, what would he have said? "My dear, I did so enjoy our little meeting this morning, but I found parting with a kiss unprofessional under the circumstances?" Hardly.

Minerva sighed and checked the time. Only another fifteen minutes before lunch would be served. Not enough time to find Wilhelmina and talk to her – if she wasn't still down at Hagrid's. Minerva did not want to imagine what kind of "fun" they might be having in his little cabin. Minerva smirked. "Meena-bird." What a nickname! But rather cute, actually, if one didn't think about – or witness – some of the details that went along with their relationship. She wondered how many people knew they were involved. Well, she might find that out when she talked to Wilhelmina. The sooner the better, before she could become too uncomfortable with the idea and lose her nerve.

Minerva leisurely made her way down to the Great Hall, arriving at the same time as Johannes and Professor MacAirt. Minerva watched as the two approached the table. This wasn't the first time she had seen the two in cheerful conversation. She wondered if they were a couple. After what she'd seen in the garden between Hagrid and Wilhelmina, nothing would surprise her, she thought. Birnbaum was much younger than Hafrena MacAirt, by at least thirty years or so, although he was no longer the young man he had been when he had first started teaching at Hogwarts when Minerva was a student. They could just be very good friends. Then again, maybe they were more than that. Or had been at one point. Minerva supposed that living in such relatively close quarters with so few opportunities to socialise with other adult wizards outside the school, it might be natural for some of the staff to become lovers occasionally. Perhaps Albus and Gertrude . . . no, she was not going to contemplate that.

Minerva was one of the first to arrive for lunch. Hagrid and Wilhelmina showed up early, but not together, Hagrid following Wilhelmina into the Great Hall about five minutes after she arrived. Both of them looked quite happy, in contrast to Hagrid's recent gloominess, and they sat next to each other discussing Flesh-eating Slugs. Minerva thought that was an even worse topic than dragon mating habits, and it appeared that others at the table were in agreement with that assessment. Fortunately, before anyone started throwing their bread rolls at the oblivious couple to get their attention, Albus arrived. With the exception of Professor Dustern, who looked as though she had bitten into a bitter lemon, everyone seemed pleased to see him – and not only because the Headmaster's arrival interrupted a discussion of Flesh-eating Slug excretions and their acidity relative to their sliminess. People may not always agree with Dumbledore, Minerva thought, but they generally respected and liked him. She was surprised, now that she was aware that Dustern didn't like Albus, that she could see the woman's dislike so clearly. On the other hand, perhaps Dustern simply had behaved more professionally in the past, and now that she was leaving Hogwarts, she didn't feel under any obligation to hide her feelings.

Minerva smiled at Albus as he took the seat between her and Gertrude, then was pleased when Poppy came in and sat on her other side. Poppy had been one of the fence-sitters during the meeting that morning, and Minerva could understand her reasoning. But the conversation at the table was light and didn't touch on the subject that had brought them all together in the middle of the summer. Flitwick seemed to be making himself at home and was in a spirited debate with Professor James about the Chudley Cannons and the Holyhead Harpies. It seemed that James was an ardent follower of the Cannons, despite their many years of being close to last in the Quidditch standings, and little Flitwick was fond of the Harpies. He reddened quite cutely when James accused him of just liking a witch on a broomstick, but laughed good-naturedly.

Then Professor MacAirt asked Gertrude about the party. Apparently, she had been invited, as a relative through Alroy and Aine, but had been unable to attend because she had been on a divination retreat somewhere in Canada and had only arrived back in the country on Friday. Unfortunately, conversation was at a lull at that point, and it seemed everyone had heard Hafrena's question and were eagerly awaiting Gertrude's answer.

"It was lovely, Hafrena. It is a pity you were unable to attend. The young Blacks were quite well-feted," Gertrude responded.

Hafrena knit her brow. "But I'd heard there was some disruption, though I didn't hear the details."

"Oh, yes, I heard that, too," Professor Evandras said with a giggle. "Something about that Valeriana Yaxley – it was in the Prophet."

"Oh," Hafrena said. "In that case, I'll just look there, then." The old witch began eating her noodles, apparently having lost any interest in the subject. Minerva remembered that she had been one of the witches who had been involved in Gertrude's conspiracy to unmask Valeriana, so to speak, and she no doubt did not wish to embarrass the Headmaster by discussing the witch in front of him.

"But it sounded so intriguing! Is it true what the Prophet said about her interrupting your father's toast, Gertrude?" The Ancient Runes teacher was persistent. And a gossip. Minerva could see why she hadn't been included in the conspiracy. She never could have kept her mouth shut.

Poppy spoke up, apparently in an attempt to deflect Evandras. "Minerva told me that the account in the newspaper was accurate, Lillian, so if you have read that, you have learned all there is to know."

"Oh, but surely not! Minerva! I didn't know you were there! Tell us all about it!" The witch was practically squealing in her desire to know all the sordid details.

"Leave the poor girl alone to finish her lunch, Lillian," Madam Perlecta said, intervening.

"I just wanted to know if she really made a scene and announced her own engagement at another witch's engagement party!"

Minerva finally decided that all this back-and-forth was worse than simply addressing the subject, especially given the fact that Albus was studiously cutting his meat into smaller and smaller pieces while trying not to look as though he were paying attention, and so she said, "Yes, I was there. It was a lovely occasion. I was very fortunate to have been invited. And yes, Valeriana Yaxley was also there, and yes, she had the immense bad taste to announce her engagement to Francis Flint in the midst of Mr Gamp's toast to the engaged couple." Trying to gauge Albus's reaction without appearing to be looking at him, Minerva added, "The assembled company greeted the news with astonishment, more at its delivery than at its content, since Yaxley had Flint hanging off her arm the entire time they were there. She is a thoroughly unlikeable witch, regardless of her apparent charm and wit. The general consensus was that she had gone off her nut some time ago and this was the final sign of it. I felt somewhat sorry for her fiancé; I don't believe he knew what he was in for with her until it was too late. But I have no more desire to discuss that witch. I have seen and heard all I need to, and she is unworthy of another thought – from any of us. I must say, however, that Professor Gamp's father was the picture of aplomb, despite the rude interruption, and I enjoyed the Gamp hospitality very much while I was there." That may have been a slight exaggeration, but not by too much, Minerva realised upon reflection.

After the others had gone back to their usual conversations, and Evandras's curiosity had apparently been satisfied, Gertrude leaned toward Minerva, speaking to her across Albus's plate, which now looked as though it had contained mince, rather than steak, and said, "Thank you, Minerva. Lillian isn't ill-intended, simply too curious. And I appreciate your remark about my father, as well. Father was quite taken aback, and he wasn't sure afterward whether he shouldn't have interrupted the witch." Gertie smirked. "I told him he did just fine. Let her embarrass herself without any help from others."

Minerva smiled at Gertrude. "I did have an interesting few days there, Professor, and it was very good to meet your son – by the by, my mother wrote to Robert. I think they're making arrangements for her to visit Thea very soon."

"Good, thank you very much." The older witch smiled warmly at Minerva.

"Mother sees it as a nice holiday for her and my father – so she won't be out carousing in Amsterdam on her own!" Minerva grinned.

"Good thing, too. Even the most level-headed witch can become tempted!" Gertie chuckled at her own joke.

"Professor Dumbledore, it doesn't appear the meal was to your liking," Minerva said, looking at the mess still on his plate. "Perhaps we should call a house-elf and get you something else."

"No, no, that's all right, my dear. I ate plenty. And there's trifle for pudding!" Albus said brightly.

"Ah, well, you can have mine, too, then," Minerva smiled at him. "Although I do hope you have a healthier supper!"

"I can't take your dessert, Minerva," Albus began.

"You most certainly can! I'm not terribly fond of trifle, and I ate too many noodles, anyway. I'm quite filled up on my starches."

"Well, if you're sure . . ."

"Of course, I'm sure, Albus. We can't have you fainting during our meeting this afternoon, after all." She smiled at him and patted his arm lightly, then turned back to the remains of her own meal, finishing her vegetables.

As she watched the plates disappear to be replaced by dishes of trifle, she felt someone kicking her ankle under the table. Scowling, Minerva turned to Poppy.

"Nice lunch, Poppy?"

"Very. I haven't seen you to talk, though – and I'd love to catch up with you!"

Minerva forbore telling her that they had only just seen each other a few days ago, instead saying, "Well, why don't we go off for a chat now, then? I'm sure you can do without the trifle after a week with Violet – and you'll be visiting your gran soon. No doubt she'll feed you up."

It was slightly mean of her, Minerva thought, knowing that Poppy enjoyed trifle, but Poppy agreed readily enough, and they set off for the matron's quarters near the infirmary. They could drink tea and gossip there. Minerva wondered whether Poppy knew about Wilhelmina and Hagrid . . . but she was loathe to mention it, if she didn't know. Hagrid was losing his Meena-bird shortly, anyway; no point in gossiping about them. It might hurt Hagrid more than he already was.

Minerva had tea with Poppy, who told her that she felt Minerva had handled Evandras's curiosity very well.

"I hope that it didn't bother Professor Dumbledore, though. Bringing it up that way, in public . . . ."

"Albus Dumbledore is a grown wizard, Minerva. Don't worry so much about it – just speak your mind, as always, and you'll be fine. Besides, this certainly isn't the first time he's heard her name come up in conversation before, even here at Hogwarts." Poppy paused. "Although I do think that he seems more uncomfortable than usual, you're right about that, Min. Minerva," she corrected herself. Gazing at Minerva, she added, "I wonder why that would be. You'd think that over the passage of time, he'd have grown less sensitive about her, not more."

"Yes, well, this was about her pending marriage. I doubt the other conversations were on that topic."

"No," Poppy said slowly, "no, that's true; they were more along the lines of wondering why she had quit the Board of Governors in such a snit. And a few people wondered why she had stood outside the castle shrieking Dumbledore's name. He didn't seem terribly bothered by it, though."

"She didn't! You didn't tell me that before, Poppy!"

"Yes, well, it was after he refused to see her in private before the midsummer Board of Governors meeting. They hadn't seen each other, obviously, since he had kicked her out of his cottage. I think he would have tolerated her presence on the Board, and been professional about it, but he was under no obligation to meet with her in private. He apparently sent a message out to her that if she wished to discuss Hogwarts business, she should do so with the Headmaster or during the Board of Governors meeting, but they had nothing to discuss on any other subject. That's when she went outside and started screeching up at the castle. I doubt Albus could even hear her – he had the most peculiar rooms at the time; I could never find them on my own – hidden near Gryffindor Tower."

"Poor Albus! And I bet he could hear her. I could see the front lawn quite clearly from them although I could never find the windows from the outside when I tried. It was hidden from the outside, not the other way around."

Poppy's eyebrows rose. "And when were you in his rooms, Minerva? I had to go there in my capacity as matron, or I doubt I'd ever have laid eyes on them."

Minerva was pleased not to blush. "As you say, Poppy, we have been friends for quite some time."

"Yes?" Poppy was still waiting.

She should just tell her she'd visited him after she'd been out of school, Minerva thought, and he'd invited her up to his rooms, but that seemed very suggestive to Minerva's own mental ears, so she said instead, "I was a Gryffindor prefect, remember, then Head Girl. I, too, had business with him."

"I was a Hufflepuff prefect, and I was never in his rooms. I don't know of any other prefect who was, either!"

"I was also in Animagus training with him, Poppy. And he was my Head of House, too, not just the Deputy Headmaster." Minerva didn't know why she felt defensive, but at Poppy's continued waiting silence, she added, "The first time was during that whole business with the Chamber of Secrets, if you must know, Poppy. Well, actually, that wasn't the first time . . . ." Minerva hesitated, then regretted saying anything.

"When was the first time, then, Minerva?" Poppy wore a look of consternation now, not her earlier one of amused curiosity.

"It's none of your business, Poppy. Now let's talk of something else."

"No, now you wait, Minerva McGonagall. Whatever respect I have for the Headmaster, your relationship has been very tense these last few months, at least on your part. And you can't deny it, either, or you wouldn't have been in my office last week yelling about fucking him." Poppy blushed. "I didn't mean it that way. Well, in a way . . . . What I meant was . . . Minerva, dear, I don't want to accuse anyone of anything improper, but when you were a student, the Professor . . . did he ever – "

Minerva stood, irate. "Poppy Pomfrey! How dare you even suggest such a thing! Of Albus Dumbledore! And of me! He would never – the mere thought – he's a good man, Poppy, I trust him completely, and I will not hear – "

"Hush, hush, Minerva, I'm sorry . . . I never thought such a thing of him. Honestly. Please sit down. But when you won't tell me why you were in his rooms as a student . . . it is just unusual, that's all. I'm sorry. I should know Dumbledore better than that. I do, in fact. He is most trustworthy. And I know he's a very good friend of yours. And I'm glad you are becoming closer. But you have to admit, it sounds suspicious that you won't say why you were with him in his rooms as a student."

Minerva lowered herself to the settee. "I did not tell you because you would want the circumstances explained, and I am not at liberty to discuss them." She sighed, thinking. "I will tell you what I can, but you must promise not to ask any questions. And not to ever discuss this with anyone, ever. Not even me. It must be as though we never had this conversation."

Poppy looked astonished at this request, but agreed to Minerva's terms, and Minerva continued. "You and I weren't yet as good friends at the time, but you may remember that the September of my sixth year, your fourth, I didn't take the Hogwarts Express with everyone else." Poppy nodded. "That's because I was already at Hogwarts. I had been for a few days. And the very first night, well, the castle was very deserted, and I was afraid to stay in Gryffindor Tower by myself. The castle just felt . . . eerie, I suppose. So Professor Dumbledore allowed me to stay in the guest room attached to his suite. It was very kind of him. The next day, more of the staff returned, and the castle didn't seem so odd, so I went back to my dormitory. The next time was during the attacks. I thought I had some information for him, so he brought me there to discuss it. Then during my final summer, you know that I had tutoring from Professor Dumbledore, and sometimes we would meet in his sitting room for tea. Professor Gamp was often, though not always, present. It was all very above-board, although it might not have appeared that way to others had they been aware of it." Minerva remembered meeting Dustern in the corridor on the way back to Gryffindor Tower early in the morning. It had been a very good thing that Dumbledore had had Wilspy fetch her robes for her.

"Oh! Well, that does all seem rather innocent. And very good of him to let you stay in his guest room. Very understanding." Poppy nodded. "But why were you at Hogwarts early?"

Minerva frowned at her friend, who had obviously already forgotten her promise not to ask questions. "It was about a Transfiguration project. Really, Poppy! You did promise not to ask questions!"

"I'm sorry . . . I'm sure there's a good reason for that." Poppy looked at Minerva curiously. "I never did believe that bit about the Transfiguration tutoring before your seventh year, you know. Most people didn't give it a second thought . . . but especially after Hagrid told me that you spent so much time with both Dumbledore and Gamp, and you spent hours at a time in your Animagus form . . . ." Poppy shrugged. "I can't even begin to imagine what it was all about, but if Gamp was involved, and no doubt Dippet knew – and your parents, as well – I thought you would eventually tell me about it. Then, until just now when you mentioned Albus's old rooms, I'd forgotten all about it. And you still won't tell me."

"It isn't my business to tell you. Unless you one day become Headmistress of Hogwarts, you will have to remain with your curiosity unassuaged, I'm afraid," Minerva responded. "But now I must be on my way. Dumbledore and I have a meeting about the meeting tonight. Too many meetings for one summer's day, I'd say!"

As Poppy showed Minerva to the door, Minerva turned to her friend and hugged her.

Poppy smiled at the uncharacteristically spontaneous show of affection. "What was that for?"

"Thank you for being my friend, Poppy, and for being concerned about me – even if you were so wide of the mark as to be insulting!" Minerva joked.

"You know, Min – erva, if you ever do need to talk about anything, I'm here. And I can be discreet. I like hearing gossip more than I do repeating it, you know. And if there's ever anything troubling you . . . Albus . . . or anything else . . ."

"Thanks, Poppy. I will remember that, but now I really must be going, or I will be as late as I have been annoyed with Albus for being!"

As Minerva rode the stairs up to the Headmaster's office, she wondered whether anyone else had ever thought that Dumbledore had "taken advantage" of her when she was a student. She doubted it. Poppy would have said something about it now, surely, when she said that she had never thought such a thing before that afternoon. And Gertrude certainly knew them both well enough to know that Albus would never engage in untoward activities with a student – with her. He had even been concerned with the mere appearance of impropriety the night that she had stayed in his guest room shortly after Myrtle had been killed.

It was just as well that she had never told anyone of her feelings toward Albus, Minerva thought with a sigh; they might believe that Albus had done something inappropriate when she had been his student to encourage those feelings in her. A schoolgirl's crush. But whatever he had or hadn't done, hers had been no mere student crush, as she had so hoped it would be. Even when Rudolf had asked her to marry him, her first thought had been, not of a potential life with the German wizard, but of Albus, and of leaving him behind her forever. She had been out of school for more than six years by that time, and hadn't seen Albus in over a year, yet her first thought had been of him. No, it hadn't been a crush; it was more like a disease, or a curse, or a madness. A monomania that occasionally subsided with time, but always to return, and now returned to dominate her life. No wonder that Quin had picked up on it so easily in his divination. What was it he had said, in that lyrical Irish voice of his? 'Tis dominatin' your life, Minerva, this sadness that you do not have, this emptiness that you do not feel, this longing that is not there . . . .

Minerva shook herself. She was almost to the top of the long, winding stairs. Soon she would be in Albus's presence, and she had to maintain her calm . . . she would demonstrate an attitude of friendly warmth and professional concern for the task at hand. The door opened before her as she arrived on the landing at the top of the stair. Minerva smiled slightly. Nice to be expected, she supposed.

She stepped into the Headmaster's office. Fawkes was there on his perch, head tucked beneath a flame-coloured wing, joining the portraits in their afternoon nap. Albus was at his desk, busily writing something – using the plumy purple quill she had given him, she noticed. He had seemed pleased with its variable width charm. Minerva smiled, thinking of how much Albus liked to play. They'd had quite a bit of fun during her Animagus training, and afterward, during the summer she had spent helping with the wards – once, of course, she had got past her fear that he could read her mind and would learn of her feelings for him, and she had become more comfortable in his presence. Or at least, less uncomfortable with her own feelings, she supposed.

She had rushed so from Poppy's rooms, she hadn't had time to stop and retrieve any parchment or her quill. Well, Albus surely had plenty.

Albus looked up from his writing and smiled at her. "Good afternoon, Minerva! I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm sorry if I'm a bit late, Albus – "

"I don't believe you are, but if you were, it would certainly be understandable. And after all of the times I have been late for our meetings, it would be extremely churlish of me to make a fuss about it. Please, have a seat!" He waved his quill, indicating one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"I'm also afraid that I've come a bit unprepared, Albus. I've come straight from Poppy's, you see, and didn't have time to stop and get a quill or parchment."

Albus smiled and handed her a brilliant red quill with gold tipping the vane. "And there's some fresh parchment there," he said, pointing to one end of his large desk. "The quill is charmed to draw from my bright blue ink. I hope that suits?"

"Yes, yes, that is fine. Is this feather from Fawkes?"

"Yes, my dear, and I do keep it here in my office desk. Wouldn't do to have it lying about, now, would it, Fawkes?"

Having heard his name, the bird had woken and was looking down at them; he trilled a sweet reply to Dumbledore's question. Minerva smiled at the sound. Fawkes was a most unusual "pet," although Albus had told her that Fawkes had simply chosen him as his human companion, and so was not "owned" in the way one might own a more common pet. As she came to know Albus better, it was no surprise to Minerva that the phoenix had chosen that particular wizard out of all those in the world. Albus had come upon him during his travels as a young man, and Fawkes had been with him ever since.

Minerva sat in the chair, asking questions and taking notes, for over an hour. She thought Albus was looking a bit tired, and despite the two portions of trifle, he hadn't eaten well that noon, and she doubted he'd had much sleep the night before – as little or less than she'd had.

"Albus, do you mind if we take a break for a bit? I think you've answered most of my questions, anyway, and perhaps we could both do with a cup of tea."

"I am sorry, my dear! If you are tired, we certainly may take a break. I had hoped that Horace would be able to join us and answer your questions about the potion, but he needed to return to his niece. Completely understandable, if somewhat lamentable, that he couldn't be here this afternoon." Albus had briefed her on Belby's response to Slughorn's inquiry, which had arrived midmorning, after the staff meeting.

"I think I understand that part of it – although I would like to read Belby's letter myself," Minerva answered.

"Of course, here you are." He handed her the letter.

"Thank you," Minerva said, not looking at the parchment. "But what of that tea? You look as though you could do with a cup, yourself."

Albus smiled. "I am quite all right, but I'm sure that Wilspy will be quite pleased to provide us with some afternoon refreshment."

He called Wilspy, who promised to bring tea and biscuits immediately.

"Shall we move to the sitting area, Albus? It might be more comfortable."

"Well, I just . . . I've been trying to get this work done, you see . . . but yes, you're right. Of course." Albus stood. "After you, Professor!" He smiled and gestured toward the armchairs on the other side of the room.

Minerva handed his special quill back to him, then went to sit in the area beside the fireplace, choosing the chair closest to the window and leaving the large overstuffed chair for Albus, if he wanted it. There was a pleasant breeze coming through the open window, and Minerva turned toward it and took a deep breath of fresh air. When she turned back, Albus was still fiddling with things at his desk.

"Aren't you joining me, Albus?"

"Oh, yes, just a minute . . . just tidying . . ."

As he crossed the room to join her, the tea tray popped in, minus Wilspy, and deposited itself on the low table in front of her.

"Shall I be mother, Albus?"

"That would be lovely, my dear," he said, sitting in the comfy chair beside her. "I believe she brought us a nice, light Darjeeling. You may want it just with a little lemon rather than milk. That is how I would like mine – and just a touch of honey, please."

Minerva smiled, knowing that Albus's idea of "just a touch" was likely more than hers.

"You tell me 'when,' all right, Albus?" Minerva asked as she dribbled honey into the amber tea. Sure enough, the "touch" of honey was at least three times the amount she could have borne to have in her tea. She placed a lemon wedge on Albus's saucer to allow him to add the lemon to taste, then poured her own tea and squeezed just a bit of lemon into it.

Minerva leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and breathed in the aroma of the tea.

"Are you very tired, Minerva?" Albus asked softly. "We could meet again just before dinner if you'd like to go back to your rooms for a while."

"No, I'm just enjoying the tea, the breeze, and your company, Albus." She smiled warmly at him. "But if you were planning on napping . . . I can read over Belby's letter and leave it on your desk for you."

Albus smiled, eyes twinkling. "I don't nap every afternoon, you know, Minerva."

"Naps are healthy. Mother always said so. She says they are better than sleeping in in the morning." Minerva frowned. "Of course, Mother never can sleep late mornings, but I still think she's right about naps."

Albus chuckled. "Well, right or not, I hadn't planned on a nap this afternoon, although I did think I might try for an earlier night than usual."

Minerva took a sip of her tea. "When did you finally get to bed last night, Albus? It sounded from what you said that it must have been quite late."

"Oh, almost one o'clock, I believe."

"Albus! You need your sleep – you had a hard day yesterday. You should have gone to bed soon after Slughorn and I left."

"Gertie and I had a lot to discuss, then I had some research I wanted to do . . . I just lost track of time."

"You need to be at your best during the meeting this evening. Perhaps you should reconsider that nap."

Albus remembered her insistence the evening before that he shut his eyes for a while, and how lovely it had been to wake with her there.

"Ah, but, my dear, I do not always have you there to lay me down then wake me up as you did yesterday evening." Albus had intended it to be a joke, but as the words came out of his mouth, he found they sounded quite different from how he had intended them; instead, they sounded much more as he actually felt: that it had been lovely to have her there with him and to see her face when he awoke. It was all he could do to keep from blushing crimson. He sipped his tea, fussing with the lemon.

"Well, if that's what it takes, I'll tuck you in and come by and wake you up," Minerva answered.

She was blushing. He had succeeded in embarrassing the poor girl, Albus thought.

"No, no, my dear. Not that that wouldn't be lovely, of course, but I was joking. I have my Big Ben. I can set that. It's a bit less gentle than awakening to your voice . . ." And there he was again, on about her. He never should have left his desk. What was the matter with him that he could turn into such a fool around Minerva? She looked so beautiful; she was wearing the same frock she'd worn to breakfast that day in her rooms. But she was saying something . . . .

". . . glad to, Albus. But it's up to you. I do still need to read Belby's letter, and there are a few things I wanted to do this afternoon. So if you'd like to take a nap, or just rest for a while, I'd be happy to come by later and we can meet for a half hour or so before dinner. And if you aren't up, I won't mind replacing Big Ben, whoever he is."

Albus chuckled. "Big Ben is my Muggle alarm clock, Minerva. Rather noisy thing, but effective! I wind it once a day. It's quite fun!" He smiled at her, relaxed once more.

"Oh, I thought maybe Big Ben was another house-elf or something. It was puzzling!" Minerva laughed. "So why don't we do that? We'll finish our tea, I'll take care of a few things, come back, read the letter, and if you're not up, I'll come wake you about a half hour or so before supper."

Albus nodded. "All right, my dear. If you insist. But I can't promise I will sleep!"

As Minerva made her way to the Gryffindor Head's rooms twenty minutes later, she wondered about Albus. He seemed to be behaving rather peculiarly, but she couldn't put her finger exactly on what it was. Perhaps he was only overtired. That would also explain his odd behaviour that morning after the meeting.

She hoped that Albus wasn't overtaxing himself. He was the most powerful wizard alive, but that didn't mean that he had endless reserves of energy, after all. And despite the fact that everyone touted the fact that Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald and returned to Hogwarts the following week, Minerva knew it wasn't as simple as that. He had been dreadfully exhausted; she had only seen him occasionally during the months after the war ended, but there had been a look in his eyes that hadn't been there before . . . almost haunted. It seemed a long time before he was truly himself again, and not merely acting the part for those around him. Minerva wished that Albus had felt comfortable enough with her to have relaxed and been himself with her, but although they had gradually found their footing again after the incident at her parents' house, Albus still withheld his feelings from her. And perhaps whatever it was that he had done, whatever it was that he had suffered, in order to defeat Grindelwald . . . perhaps it was something he couldn't speak of with anyone. Minerva remembered the bleak look that had crossed her mentor's face when he had told her that Grindelwald's defeat had not come without great loss. She wondered if she would ever know the full extent of what Albus had meant by those words.

At least this situation with Pretnick was not as serious as a war with a Dark Wizard. And she was here to help him with it. Minerva smiled. He had let her talk him into going up into the Headmaster's suite and resting. She hoped he really would take a nap. She felt as though she could use one herself, in fact, and she was younger than he . . . much younger. Somehow, that was a very gloomy thought to Minerva, and she sighed.

Remembering why she was on her way to see Wilhelmina, Minerva steeled herself for an uncomfortable conversation. Perhaps this wasn't any of her business . . . but she had felt somewhat responsible for Hagrid her last year at Hogwarts, ever since she'd bought him that broom, and on returning, she found those feelings reawakened. They hadn't seen one another very often over the years, but she'd always found him a comfortable soul, easy to be around, and seeing him after a long separation was never difficult or awkward. Minerva smiled. Another relationship that was easier than the one with Albus. But she would deal with It and continue to work on their friendship.

She had been a bit embarrassed at her thoughts when Albus had mentioned his nap . . . she would have liked to have tucked him in . . . given him a kiss to dream on . . . lain down beside him . . . No! Minerva almost groaned aloud. This was exactly the sort of thing she was supposed to be avoiding. And the kiss would not be for Albus . . . it would be for her. For her dreams.

Albus would find her thoughts about him disturbing, without a doubt. Here he had spoken to her as a friend, as a daughter, perhaps, and she was perverting it with her own desires for him. But just to lie down beside him . . . .

Minerva arrived at the seventh floor in a foul mood, having lectured herself about the necessity of reining It in and getting It under control. And now she was about to confront another witch about her sex life. As though it were any of her business. No, it wasn't about the witch's sex life, Minerva reminded herself, it was about Hagrid, and whether he had been exploited as a youth. Minerva sighed. Poor Hagrid. He was vulnerable even now, really, odd as that might sound to some. Not naive, perhaps, but an innocent, nonetheless, and despite the hardships he'd endured.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Minerva knocked on the Gryffindor Head's door portrait. As the portrait disappeared to announce her presence, Minerva began to have second thoughts about what she was about to do. But it was too late to turn back now; the door opened to reveal a smiling witch.

"Minerva! What a pleasant surprise! I thought you might be . . . someone else."

"Were you expecting someone? I can come back . . ."

"No, no, not at all. Come in, come in. Tea?" the Gryffindor Head of House offered.

"No, thank you, Wilhelmina. I just had some."

"Well, what brings you by?" Wilhelmina asked. "I'm not sure we should discuss the Pretnick situation before the meeting."

"That's not why I'm here." Minerva perched in the chair across from the sofa where Wilhelmina sat. Minerva drew a deep breath. "You may remember that I asked you about Hagrid and whether you noticed that he seemed depressed lately."

"Yes, but he seemed quite happy at lunch."

Minerva had to hand it to the witch. Not a blush or a twitch of an eyelash. Not bad for a Gryffindor. "Yes, he did. But you see, after the meeting this morning, I was concerned about him. He's an old friend, you know, and he seemed even more distressed after some of the things that had been said at the meeting." Barging on, heedless of Wilhelmina's attempt to say something, Minerva continued. "I decided to go down and visit him. You may not know this, but I enjoy exercising in my Animagus form. I went down to Hagrid's cabin looking for him. I was in my cat form. He wasn't in, so I went around back. When he wasn't there, either, I settled down for a catnap while waiting for him." Wilhelmina had blanched. "I was in the shade under the trellis. There are a few tufts of weeds and grass there. It was quite cool and comfortable. I dozed until I was woken up." Minerva paused and just looked at the witch across from her.

Wilhelmina swallowed, and when she found her voice, it came out in a raspy whisper. "You were there. When we arrived."

Minerva nodded.

"Oh, god!" Wilhelmina's blanch turned to a blush, and she hid her face in her hands. "How much . . . ?"

"I couldn't leave. By the time I realised what was . . . going on, it was too late."

"Oh, god," the older witch repeated. "Oh, this is . . . this is beyond embarrassing."

"Believe me, I wasn't terribly comfortable at the time, myself. Nor am I at the moment," Minerva replied.

Distressed, the older witch said, "You should have just left! How could you . . . so private," she ended in a whisper.

"Believe me, if I had been able to vanish from my spot, I would have. I had no idea – and it just got worse."

"So why are you here now? To share your embarrassment and humiliate me? Have you told Hagrid? He would be mortified!"

"No, I haven't told him. As to why I'm here, I'll just come out with it: how long has this been going on, Grubbly-Plank?"

The other witch looked up angrily. "It is none of your business. You may be Hagrid's friend, but that's all. You have no claim on him yourself!"

"I am not saying I do. But I am Hagrid's friend. This is clearly not some new relationship. It's been going on for a while. When did it start?" Minerva stared stonily at the older witch.

"And I say, it's none of your business! I ask you to leave now. And if you care at all about Hagrid, you won't mention this to him. He would be mortified."

"I am not leaving until I get an answer to my question. Your reluctance to answer makes me wonder if my fears are justified." Minerva narrowed her eyes. "Did you seduce Hagrid when he was a boy, just a child under your care?"

"What do you take me for?! Of course not! That's . . . that's disgusting!" Wilhelmina's eyes flashed angrily.

The older witch's reaction was enough to convince Minerva, and she relaxed, letting out a sigh. "Oh, that's good, then. It's just that I worried . . . not knowing. I didn't think you would have, but I didn't know. Hagrid is such an innocent in so many ways, and when he was a boy, he was larger than any grown man. I'm sorry, Wilhelmina."

"Hmpf. Can't blame you for being worried about Hagrid, I suppose – but to think such a thing of me?" Wilhelmina shook her head. "I hope you don't mind, but I need a drink. Would you like something?"

"No, thank you, but you go ahead."

Wilhelmina got up and went over to a sideboard and poured herself a shot of fire whisky. "It was about five years ago. In the summer. It was a hot one that year. I had begun to think of him differently a couple years before, but never acted on it . . . never thought I would." Wilhelmina returned to her place on the sofa. "One day several years ago, I looked up at him, and it was suddenly as though I was seeing him for the first time . . . for the first time as an adult male. I had grown fond of him, of course. Hagrid is sweet, kind, gentle . . . but I had always seen him as just another variety of student. Of course, as he grew older, we came to know each other better as adults, but there was something about that day, when I looked up at him . . . he was looking down at me, smiling. He'd just helped me with a rather nasty creature, and I remember thinking how safe I felt when he was around, then I looked up, and something came over me. I'm not saying I fell in love in that moment, but after that, I could never look at him the same way. And I became increasingly aware of him as a masculine entity, until one day, I just decided to stop denying to myself that I found him incredibly attractive. I know most witches would think me crazy – "

"No, no, I understand . . . not that I personally find him attractive, but I can understand what you see in him." Minerva smiled encouragingly at her friend. "And he is a good man."

"He is. Anyway, I walked around for about a year and a half in a constant state of heightened awareness of him . . . I couldn't get him out of my mind. We had become friends . . . we'd have a drink together occasionally, take walks that weren't strictly business . . . but I had no idea how to approach him and was convinced that it would be a bad idea. If he was shocked or disgusted . . . he might feel our friendship betrayed if I were to make any moves toward him. But then . . . well, you saw," Wilhelmina ended with a dark blush. "It really was like that . . . and I thought it might be just a one-off thing, but the sweet, adorable man began to court me. He brought me the most peculiar things – any other witch would have found them peculiar gifts from a suitor, at any rate. But they were always things I liked or had wanted. He is always so thoughtful . . . but I always knew that this couldn't last. I never wanted to be a teacher, though I have endeavoured to do my best. And I knew that I would be leaving when the right opportunity arose. I mentioned this to Hagrid repeatedly. I do love him, but he loves more, and more strongly." Tears rose in her eyes. "I hate to hurt him, but there is no way around it."

"I understand . . ." Minerva hesitated. She rarely spoke about her personal life, even with friends. Poppy came closest to knowing all that Minerva was willing to share with another human being. But Wilhelmina had just been honest with her about something very personal – and after the embarrassment of realising that Minerva had witnessed something even more personal. "There was a wizard once . . . he was very good to me, and I can honestly say that I loved him, in a way. It was during my apprenticeship in Germany. He wanted me to stay, to marry him, or even just to stay there with him . . . but I couldn't. He loved me more than I loved him, and my life was here and his life was there. I have always regretted hurting him, but it would have been worse to try to make something work that wasn't meant to be."

Wilhelmina nodded and sighed, finishing her drink with one last shuddering gulp. "You do understand, then. It isn't that I don't care for him, I just . . . I can't stay here. And I can't imagine giving up everything to stay with Hagrid, or to have him stay with me . . . and it makes me feel guilty."

"Don't. Hagrid's life was enriched by your relationship, I'm sure. And hopefully, someday, he'll have another. Until then, he can look back on this and know that a wonderful witch cared for him and found him attractive. You do have a life to lead, Wilhelmina. If teaching were your life, then perhaps you and Hagrid could have had something longer term, perhaps a real commitment, but the way things are, you'd never be happy, and he would eventually be unhappy, as well."

"Thank you," Wilhelmina said softly. "I haven't had anyone to talk to about it . . . it's been difficult."

Minerva knit her brow. "So no one knows? Five years, and no one knows?"

"Well, I imagine that more than a few people suspect or assume something, but other than Johannes, who spends so much time outdoors because of his work in the greenhouses and gardens that he did eventually notice, no, no one actually knows."

"Johannes saw you, too?" How often did this couple enjoy the open air?

"No, no, not like that! No, he just noticed how much time we spent together, and how often I would go down to Hagrid's cabin . . . and we've spoken of the relationship. But I didn't want him to feel as though he were in the middle, so I haven't talked with him about Hagrid's distress."

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "I rather think Johannes must have felt stuck in the middle between you, anyway, Wilhelmina, with all that message passing he ended up doing because you two weren't talking to each other."

"I was talking to Hagrid. And it's not as though he was not talking to me . . . he couldn't talk to me. It got to the point where he'd break down in tears asking me for the salt and pepper. Johannes was being a good friend." Wilhelmina sighed. "I suppose I should talk to him. Johannes, I mean. Thank him."

"Yes, well, I'm sure he noticed that Hagrid was behaving more normally at lunch, so unless you want to, there's probably no need. Although I must say, Wilhelmina, I won't miss the conversations you and Hagrid have. Flesh-eating Slug slime while people are trying to eat their lunches?"

"We forget where we are and get carried away, that's all. Just remind me the next time we veer into unappetising areas!"

"Well, it's a good thing you don't forget so much that you truly get carried away and start reenacting the dragon mating rituals at the table. I think that would put everyone off their feed permanently!" Minerva said with a grin.

Wilhelmina laughed good-naturedly, but blushed. "I can't believe you were there and saw everything. It's so embarrassing."

"I closed my eyes. I wouldn't have chosen to be there, myself, believe me, but I had no idea what I would witness when I decided to take my catnap in Hagrid's garden. But . . . it was sweet. I mean, I'm sure you don't need to know what I thought, but, well, don't be too embarrassed," Minerva stuttered, hesitantly adding, "But you might want to check the bushes and around corners before you do such a thing again, and then cast a few privacy spells. Or just stick to indoors."

Wilhelmina nodded. "We don't usually . . . only a few times. And only when the school has been deserted – I should have listened to Hagrid. He will be so mortified."

"I don't see any reason for him to know I was there. If you want, you can tell him that we just happened to talk, and I told you about one of my relationships, so you talked about him. It might be nice if, after you leave, he had someone to be around who knows and understands, even if he doesn't really talk about it. And we are friends. I'll try to help him adjust, Wilhelmina. Don't worry too much about him. Go have fun with your dragons. I hope your flame-repellant charms are up-to-snuff!"

The two witches talked another fifteen minutes about Wilhelmina's new job, and it was clear the witch was looking forward to it. Finally, Minerva excused herself.

"I have a few more things to do before supper, but I'll probably see you then. And I'm glad we talked."

Minerva made the long trek back to the Headmaster's office, stopping off in her rooms on the way to pick up her own quill and ink. It was nothing as fancy as the Headmaster's, just a good, old-fashioned goose feather, but it made a nice line.

It was good that she had talked to Wilhelmina, as embarrassing as it had been for both of them. She was relieved that Wilhelmina hadn't taken advantage of Hagrid when he was a teenager. It hadn't seemed likely, but one never knew about people. Wilhelmina hadn't even considered him attractive until he was out of his teens, apparently. Minerva smiled; it was nice that Hagrid had had this experience, even if he felt broken-hearted now. He'd get over it. He might even find someone else. He'd need that spell of Wilhemina's. . . . Minerva grinned to herself.

After reading through Belby's letter and making a few more notes, Minerva checked the time. Albus hadn't come down yet, and dinner would be soon. Perhaps he really had lain down for a nap and fallen asleep. Feeling uneasy about going up to his rooms after her imprudent thoughts about him earlier, and not knowing whether he had really meant it when he'd said she could wake him, Minerva was unsure whether she should just wait for Albus or go find him. He could have set his Muggle alarm clock, after all, and not be expecting her at all. But if he were counting on her to wake him . . . she'd best go up, she decided resolutely.

Minerva slipped up the stairs and knocked gently on the sitting room door. When she heard nothing stirring within, she slowly opened the door and peeked in. The draperies were drawn back, and the sitting room was cheerfully bright with the late day sun, but Albus was nowhere to be seen. Could it be he was elsewhere in the castle?

She crossed the room and quietly rapped on the bedroom door. Uneasily, she opened the door and looked in. The room was dimly lit, the curtains closed, and she couldn't see through to the bed. The bathroom was to her left, and the wall created a short hallway into the bedroom. Taking a breath, she reminded herself that she was a Gryffindor, Albus's good friend, and that she had helped him through all kinds of situations. Waking him from an afternoon nap was a far cry from dragging him, bloody and half-dead, from a filthy hole in France, after all.

With that encouraging thought, Minerva tiptoed over to the bed. Albus had removed his shoes and his outer robe, which was draped at the foot of the bed, and was wearing only a very lightweight gold-coloured underrobe, no doubt chosen to complement the gold spirals in his outer robe. He was lying on his side on top of the bed, a light coverlet grasped in front of him, as though he had shoved it off in his sleep. Albus was now clutching it to his chest; from his expression, Minerva thought he might be dreaming. Much as she hated to wake him, he wouldn't want to sleep through dinner. Big Ben might wake him . . . perhaps she should leave, she thought, looking around for his Muggle alarm clock. But then Albus murmured something in his sleep. She couldn't understand what it was he was saying, but it was clear that she should either wake him or leave.

"Albus! It's Minerva. Time to wake up!" Minerva cringed to herself. She'd begin to sound like Gluffy soon. "Albus, would you like to sleep a bit longer?" she asked softly as Albus's eyes fluttered open; she could call Wilspy and ask her to bring him his dinner in his suite.

Albus blinked and looked up at her sleepily. "Mmm. Minerva," he said with a deep sigh. He closed his eyes again. His hand released its grip on the sheet and inched toward her.

Minerva gingerly perched on the edge of the bed beside him. "Are you all right, Albus?" She touched his brow. He was a little warm, but the room was too warm for her liking.

"Hmm?" Albus opened his eyes and blinked again. Minerva quickly removed her hand. "Oh, Minerva, I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to sleep this long." His voice was hoarse. "What time is it?"

"About forty-five minutes till dinner. It's all right; you have time. But are you feeling well?"

"Perfectly." He pulled the coverlet toward him. "Just fine. But, umm," he said, suppressing a yawn, "a little warm."

"I'm concerned about you, Albus." Minerva examined his face. Other than a slight flush, however, he seemed fine, wide-awake and fine.

"Could you open the draperies, my dear? And perhaps a window?" He covered himself with the light blanket.

"Certainly – and may I suggest that you get rid of that blanket? You'll make yourself ill sleeping in such a warm room, all covered up like that," Minerva said, trying to speak as briskly as her mother did to her patients, as she walked over to one of the windows and pulled back the curtains. "And you should have something to drink. Something cool, but not cold."

"Yes, ma'am, Mother McGonagall!" Albus quipped.

Minerva laughed. If he was calling her "Mother McGonagall," he was fine.

A fresh breeze came through the window, and Minerva turned to open another one. When she finished, she saw that Albus was sitting up, but still hadn't moved from the bed and was still clutching the blanket in front of him. Well, Gertie interrupting his half-nude beard-bucket time had apparently not prepared him to have his Transfiguration mistress wake him from a sound sleep in his bedroom, Minerva thought wryly.

"I'll wait for you in your sitting room, then?" Minerva asked.

Albus bobbed his head in cheery agreement, and Minerva left him to dress. From the sitting room, Minerva heard the water running in the bathroom, and Albus joined her a few minutes later, his beard and hair freshly brushed.

Minerva smiled up at him. "You look more awake! How are you feeling?"

"I am fine. I have been burning the candle at both ends, I'm afraid – just what you warned me against this afternoon. And I will try to take better care to get more sleep," he said, holding up his hand to forestall the admonishment on her lips.

"All right – but I will remind you, if I need to, Albus! And I wouldn't be unhappy if you had Poppy check you over while she's still here. She's leaving for her grandmother's tomorrow evening. Would you do that?"

"Not necessary! But thank you for your concern." Albus sounded slightly annoyed, but Minerva persisted.

"You were quite warm – you may be catching something. Maybe you picked up something while you were at St. Mungo's."

Albus looked down at Minerva. "My dear. I do appreciate your concern, but I merely slept too long in a room that was too warm. I am neither an infant nor yet in my dotage that I require looking after."

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "Very well. In that case, we should get on with our meeting. I have a few questions about Belby's letter. My notes are in your office. Let's go there now."

Minerva stood and started for the stairs, feeling a complete fool for having expressed her concern for him. He was the Headmaster. She was a teacher at his school. They were friends, but clearly she had overstepped some invisible boundary. And she was not going to allow it to bother her. Yet his words rang in her head as she preceded him down the brass spiral staircase, I am neither an infant nor yet in my dotage that I require looking after. He had clearly chafed at her well-meant concerns. Perhaps he simply didn't understand that she was truly concerned about his welfare. He could think she was being patronising . . . as though he could be patronised! He was the most powerful wizard of their age! But what had Gertrude said, there in the garden? Something about how, despite his power, his intelligence, and his talents, he sometimes needed protecting, even from himself occasionally? Minerva now understood that to mean the incident with Valerianna . . . but perhaps it meant more than that. I am neither an infant nor yet in my dotage that I require looking after.

Minerva headed over to the sitting area where she left had her notes. Albus went to his desk.

"Professor, my notes are over here." She sat down deliberately. She was not going to let him hide behind his desk so easily. Unless he insisted.

"And mine are here," he answered with a slight smile as he sat down at his desk. "As is the letter, which you so efficiently returned. Thank you, Professor!"

Minerva flushed, but got up and moved. "Of course."

"I'm sorry, my dear . . . our time is short, though. And it's my fault entirely for having fallen asleep."

"Yes, well, as you said . . . burning the candle at both ends . . . ." Minerva was still peeved that he dismissed her concern for him the way he had. It was one thing not to want to see Poppy, and another for him to act as though her concern for him was unwelcome condescension when she hadn't intended it that way at all. She thought he knew her better than that.

"And we can see each other later tonight, after the committee meeting, to discuss what happens after I've left – "

"No, you said you were having an early night. I wouldn't want to keep you up. Now, our time is short, as you just pointed out. I only have a few questions."

Minerva went rapidly through the few questions she had, then the chime went off overhead.

"I assume that means that dinner is in ten minutes. I will see you there, then, Professor." Minerva nodded at Albus as she stood to leave.

"Yes . . . and Minerva, if you have any other questions – "

Minerva was at the door. "No, sir, but if I think of any, I will let you know." She opened the door, then paused and looked back at him. "You know, I was only concerned about you. I am very well aware that you are neither an infant nor in your dotage. You are the Headmaster of Hogwarts, hero of the wizarding world, and the most powerful warlock alive . . . and the most vital wizard of my acquaintance. I believe us to be friends, as well, and I look after my friends. It was of our friendship I was thinking, not of your status. I apologise for offending you."

She turned and left the office quickly, closing the door quietly behind her. Stuffing her notes into her pockets, Minerva popped into her Animagus form. She raced down the moving stairs, barely stumbling in her lithe and agile cat form. Minerva couldn't believe that she had said what she had . . . to have suffered a fit of pique like that . . . Albus must be even more offended than he had been before. But at least he knew her well enough, she hoped, to know that she would still do her best for him at the meeting that evening. She just wished she knew what it was she kept doing wrong. Maybe it was nothing . . . maybe it was just her. Maybe it was just . . . It.