XCVII: Happy Birthday, Albus

XCVII: Happy Birthday, Albus

Minerva was thrilled with the results of the changes Albus made to her new rooms. He hadn't let her visit them the day before, not even after dinner when the rooms had already been reconfigured. "Let the house-elves finish their work, Minerva," he had said with a twinkle after dinner, and she agreed. He obviously wanted her to see them only after everything was complete.

In addition to reconfiguring the rooms, Albus had directed the house-elves to change much of the furniture, and the walls had all been redecorated, as well. Her bedroom was a sunny yellow with claret-coloured trim, her sitting room a deeper shade of yellow, bordering on gold, with burgundy trim, and her study was a soothing cream with deep teal-coloured trim on the bookshelves and door frame. The curtains all had been changed out, as well, replaced with new ones that complemented the rooms' colour schemes, and the draperies in her bedroom were heavy and dark, so that she could close them and keep the early morning sun out, if she wished. And, of course, her former bathroom had been replicated, but it was much larger, and the shower now was almost identical to the one that was in the Headmaster's bathroom. Minerva felt quite spoiled. She was fairly certain that no other Head of House had such a luxurious bathroom – although it was possible that Slughorn, hedonist that he seemed to be, had requested some changes to his facilities and had something similar in his quarters. The only thing that would have made her move to her new rooms more perfect is if Albus had been with her when she first saw them.

Blampa had popped into Minerva's sitting room as she was finishing her breakfast and told her that everything was complete in her new rooms, and all they needed to do was move her personal effects. Minerva took charge of her photographs, her small "shrine" to Albus, and her box of correspondence, but let Blampa move everything else. By the time she had climbed the stairs up to the seventh floor, Blampa had finished moving her books, clothes, and other personal items into her new home.

Minerva was thrilled by her new rooms, and she distracted herself from her feeling of disappointment that Albus hadn't been there with her by stowing her wooden box of letters in the bottom of her new wardrobe and arranging her photographs on her new vanity table, then carefully placing the small photograph of Albus on her night stand, the twin white stones next to it, and the evil eye nested in its cord in front of the picture.

Minerva fingered the peculiar Muggle talisman and remembered the Gypsy who had given it to her, and Albus's conversation with him. Albus had hesitated when he had told her that he had travelled with the Gypsies during his youth. There was so much about Albus that she didn't know. She had believed that she knew him well, her love told her that she did, but it seemed that there were layers to him that were . . . perhaps not hidden, but certainly obscured. He had alluded a few times to his defeat of Grindelwald. She knew that it had been a costly defeat, from what he had said, but there seemed to be some mystery surrounding it, and the more she reflected on it, the more peculiar it seemed to be that in the interviews afterward, none of the Aurors present had said anything about how it had been done, or what had happened during the time between when they had disappeared and Albus's victory over the Dark Wizard. It was a puzzle, and try as she might, Minerva did not believe that she could restrain her curiosity much longer. But she would do her best to wait until Albus was ready to talk to her about it. Running off to find Rufus Scrimgeour or Alastor Moody, or the other Auror who had been with Albus at the time, would likely be fruitless, anyway. If they hadn't told the newspapers what happened, it was not very likely they would tell her.

Minerva had fun organising her new study and having Blampa help her rearrange her books and bring some up from her teaching office. She put the flowers Albus had given her in the study and spent the morning going over lesson plans for the autumn and reading the few applications for the Magical Creatures position that had arrived while she was on holiday, and studiously avoided thinking about Albus's birthday. She had already told Blampa what she wanted for their dinner, and there was no point in preparing the room until later that afternoon.

She was trying to concentrate on deciphering a Greek wizard's application letter when there was a rattling at her window pane. Minerva opened it, removed the letter from the small owl's leg, and was surprised when the bird turned and left immediately without waiting for a treat, or even a bit of praise.

"Dear Professor McGonagall,

"Proprietor, The Three Broomsticks"

It must be the box of sweets Quin had said he would send for Albus' birthday. Odd that he hadn't simply sent it directly to her by owl. Minerva looked out her window. It was a nice day, a walk to Hogsmeade might be pleasant, but Minerva didn't really want to leave her new rooms.

"Blampa!"

There was a loud crack and Blampa appeared in the door to the study.

"Yes, Professor Minerva? May I, Blampa, serve?"

"Yes, please, Blampa. A parcel has arrived for me down at the Three Broomsticks. I am going to give you a note to give to the proprietor, and I would like you to fetch the parcel and bring it back here. Please put it in my bedroom if I am not here when you return."

Blampa gave a wide, toothy grin and bounced on her toes. "Okey-dokey, Professor Minerva! I be's happy to fetch Professor Minerva's parcel!"

Minerva wrote a quick note, cast the Sigillum Charm to imprint her personal seal at the top of it, then sealed it with a blob of sealing wax and charmed her initials into it. Now she could go down to the staff room for lunch, and hopefully see Albus and thank him for taking care of her rooms, knowing that Blampa was taking care of retrieving the package from Quin.

When she reached the staff room, she was disappointed to see that Albus, dressed in plain grey robes, was sitting at the head of the table with Johannes on his left and Wilhelmina on his right. Gertrude wasn't there, and Minerva assumed that she hadn't returned to the castle yet. Minerva greeted everyone then took the seat across from Hagrid and helped herself to a sandwich as her bowl filled with soup.

"Are your rooms satisfactory, Professor McGonagall?" Albus asked with a smile.

"Very satisfactory, Professor Dumbledore," Minerva answered. "However, one of the items that Blampa moved for me this morning was the landscape from my bedroom."

Albus had moved the Silent Knight to her new quarters the previous evening, providing a different portrait for the door to her old rooms. When he did that, the connection between the Silent Knight's portrait and the landscape had been severed. Because she was only spending one more night in those rooms, he had not connected the landscape to the new portrait.

"Would you like the painting connected with your door ward, then? I could do that this evening, my dear," Albus suggested.

Minerva thought quickly. She really did not want him to do any work at all that evening, and certainly nothing for her. She wanted them to be just Albus and Minerva that night, not Headmaster and teacher.

"If you could stop by and do it quickly sometime this afternoon, that would be convenient. Otherwise, there's really no hurry. Perhaps once the warding is completed." There was, after all, the picture over the mantle, a rather bucolic scene of sheep grazing on a hillside, not a human in sight, and that was connected to her door portrait. She could hear Fidelius barking from there, she thought, if she weren't sleeping heavily.

Albus raised an eyebrow, but he did not protest her suggestion.

"I will stop by this afternoon, then, if I have a few minutes," he answered with a nod.

Minerva resumed eating, and Johannes told her again how impressed he had been with her mother's gardens.

"She has the green thumb, your mother," he said. "And an artistic eye. Her plantings were most pleasing."

Minerva ate her lunch quickly, foregoing dessert. She stopped next to Albus before leaving.

"Do you have a notion of when you might be coming by, Professor?" Minerva wanted to take a bath and change her robes before their dinner, and she didn't want to be in the bath when he arrived to connect the portrait.

"I thought I would look in on my way back from lunch, if that is suitable," he answered.

"Very. Thank you very much – I know how busy you are."

"My pleasure, Professor. And I will show you how it is done. When you become Head of Gryffindor, you will be able to manipulate the portrait network in Gryffindor Tower and even, to some extent, in the rest of the castle."

Minerva smiled at the thought that in just a day, she would be the new Head of Gryffindor.

Minerva returned to her rooms, not minding the seven flights of stairs, happy to be heading toward Gryffindor Tower. When she got there, she took a moment to look out her sitting room window, which gave her a much better view of the grounds than she had from her previous sitting room. She looked around her. The furnishings were perfect. She had been slightly worried that Albus would clad everything in tartan. She did like tartan, but even she recognised that one could overdo it. The only tartan in the room was on the cushioned seats of the two wooden chairs that went with the small round mahogany table. Blampa had told her that morning that there were more like it that the house-elf could Apparate to the sitting room if Minerva ever needed them for guests. The Scottish theme was continued, however, in a subtle design of thistles that was woven through the solid-coloured fabric covering her settee and one of the upholstered armchairs. The remaining two chairs were clad in a fabric whose pattern picked up both the deep red of the room's trim and the golden yellow of the walls. While the colour scheme was reminiscent of the red and gold of her House, the room didn't scream, "Gryffindor!"

Remembering that Albus would have to enter her bedroom in order to connect the landscape to the portrait network, Minerva realised that he would see her little "shrine" to him if she didn't move it, so she went into her bedroom. She was immediately confronted with an immense hamper, a giant red ribbon tied around its handles, sitting in the middle of the bedroom floor. Minerva gaped at it. Quin had said a "box" of sweets. This was his notion of a box?

"Blampa!"

The little house-elf winked in.

"Yes, Professor Minerva? I, Blampa, fetches Professor Minerva's parcel!" she said happily.

"You certainly did. Thank you very much. But now, can you take it away again? Don't bring it far – but it's a surprise for Professor Dumbledore, and he will be here in a little while and he can't see it yet. Just bring it back when he's gone again."

"Youse wants I, Blampa, to hide the big basket?" Blampa asked.

Minerva nodded. Blampa snapped her fingers and the hamper vanished.

"The Professor Headmaster not see the big basket. I, Blampa, promises!"

Minerva sighed. "Thank you, that will be all for now."

As soon as the house-elf had vanished, Minerva removed the small photograph from her night stand and placed it in the drawer with the two white stones, but she left the evil eye out. She had just returned to the sitting room when the Knight entered and announced that the Master of the Castle requested admittance. Chuckling, Minerva opened the door.

"You seem cheerful, my dear," Albus said as he stepped in.

"The Knight just announced the 'Master of the Castle,'" she explained.

Albus grinned at that description of himself, then set about connecting the portrait to the landscape, explaining what he was doing as he went about it.

"When you are Head of Gryffindor, you will be able to connect and disconnect paintings throughout the castle except in areas that are under the control of one of the other Houses," Albus told her as he finished up. "It is likely that you will have little occasion to do so, but it can sometimes be useful. And, of course, you will have the passwords to the common rooms of each of the Houses, in case of emergency. Again, it will likely be rare that you will have any need to enter the common room of another House, but when there is an emergency, it is one less thing to worry about. Now, I have some more work to finish before our dinner, so I am afraid I cannot tarry, my dear."

"That's all right, Albus. I am very glad you will be coming to dinner tonight. Thank you again for the care you have taken with the rooms. They are very comfortable, and I haven't found a thing I would change," Minerva said.

"Yes, well, I do hope you will occupy them for many years to come, and they should be comfortable for you," Albus said with a warm smile.

After Albus left, Minerva called Blampa and had her return the hamper of sweets to the bedroom, then she decided to take a bath and change her robes – that way, she could spend the rest of the afternoon preparing for her dinner with Albus.

Minerva undressed and tossed her clothes into the dirty laundry. She knew that she wanted to wear the same robes she had worn the morning she had Portkeyed to the Gamps. Albus had liked them; he had said they brought out the colour of her eyes, she remembered with a faint blush of pleasure, and she liked the way the robes felt on her, and the way the voluminous, layered skirts swished when she walked.

Minerva entered her bathroom and selected the rose-scented tap, remembering how much she had enjoyed her mother's rose bath soap a few days before, then filled the bathtub with hot water. She stepped in. It was the perfect temperature – hot, but not scalding or uncomfortable. Minerva lowered herself into the water and leaned back. Bliss!

She looked around at the decorated tiles surrounding the bath, appreciating them even more knowing the lengths that Albus had gone to in order to provide them. This bathroom, and the bathtub, were larger than they had been in her former quarters, and it appeared he had added some new tiles. Beginning at the top and working downward, Minerva scanned them, trying to find the different ones. She identified two new ones that were interesting, but similar to others that had already been there. Then, right at eye level, she found a series of new tiles. She didn't know now how she had missed seeing them before.

Minerva scootched closer to the other end of the bathtub to look at them more carefully, the water sloshing around her. She looked at each tile in turn, and her eyes filled with tears. All of the decorated tiles contained depictions of heros and heroines of the wizarding world, and most of the scenes Albus had chosen focussed on witches. But these tiles, she knew immediately, he had created from memory, not from pictures found in any books. The first tile showed a small striped cat running through some woods. The second tile was of the cat, paw lifted in the air, sniffing the breeze, beside the figure of a wizard lying beneath an overhanging rock. The next picture showed the wizard sitting on the ground as a witch knelt beside him and tended to his wounds, and the following one again depicted the tabby running through the woods, this time, a collar held in her mouth; a small scene on one side of that tile showed a group of shadowy, hooded figures turned away from the cat. The next scene showed the witch again, standing dramatically in a small clearing, her wand held aloft, the wizard, seeming small and frail, holding onto a scrubby little tree, watching her. The final tile depicted the witch, a log cradled in one arm, holding the hand of the wizard as the group of dark, hooded wizards approached the clearing.

Tears ran down her face. Why she should cry, Minerva wasn't completely sure. It was partly the memory of that frightening time, partly the idea that Albus would place her image there amongst all of those other eminent witches and wizards, and partly the thought that something in those pictures, in their creation, was a sign that Albus loved her. Perhaps in the same way that he had loved her when she was a child, the love that had enabled him to staunch her magical drain, but he did still love her. In each of the tiles that showed both of them, Albus was looking at her, his gaze fixed on her, whether she was cat or witch. Minerva sniffled a little and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Now she was even more glad that she had decided to have the birthday dinner for Albus. Her love and gratitude knew no bounds . . .

At five-thirty, Albus stepped from the shower. As he dried his hair and beard, he pondered his robes. He had been trying to dress sensibly for the past week or two in an effort to reduce his general air of eccentricity, but it really was quite dull, particularly as he was limited in his choice of robes, possessing only four sets that could be deemed sensible. He had always had a fondness for elegant clothes, rich fabrics, and eye-catching colours. As a young wizard, he had been something of a fop – as much as one could be on a somewhat limited budget, anyway. Then, of course, he had let himself go to seed for a while, and his manner of dress had reflected that. When he began to recover from that period in his life, he had worn simple robes more out of necessity than from any particular choice, but they were, at least, colourful. When he began to work again with Nicholas Flamel, he slowly returned to his former way of dressing. He had always viewed it as one of his few luxuries, one of his only vices, so he tried not to feel too guilty when he spent his Galleons on a particularly beautiful set of robes, but he did place himself on a budget, and there was a limit to what he would spend on one individual outfit, much to Madam Malkin's continuing disappointment.

Now, though, he was trying something new – blandness. However, judging from the reaction of others when he arrived at the Ministry first in plain grey robes of an ordinary cut and a few days later in stark black robes, his new choices were considered as eccentric as his former choices had been. On each occasion, wizards and witches who met him asked him whether he had been to a funeral. Albus sighed. He supposed that people had become so used to him wearing highly coloured or decorated robes that they now considered them normal for him and any deviation was seen as peculiar. Fortunately, no one at school seemed to notice. At least no one commented on his rotation through his four sets of sensible robes. But tonight, Albus wanted to look nice for his dinner with Minerva. His birthday dinner, actually, although she didn't know that. A wizard had a right to dress up on his birthday, surely. And for the woman he loved, although she didn't know that, either.

Albus wavered in his choice, almost selecting the same robes he had worn the first time he had breakfast with Minerva in her rooms, but remembering how closely they fitted, he decided against them. He had regained control over his . . . reflexes, but there was no sense in taking any chances. And he did want to be able to relax that evening and not worry unduly about Occluding or otherwise managing his physiological responses. Instead of the blue robes, then, Albus chose the dusty rose robe with the gold patterns swirling through it, and the thin, pale gold under robe that went with it. There was a matching hat that he normally wore with these robes, but he thought that this evening, he would leave his head bare, as was becoming more fashionable among wizards.

Albus finished dressing, fetched the house-warming presents he had for Minerva, and left through his backstairs, thinking how convenient it was that the stairs would bring him to the seventh floor, just a short walk from Minerva's quarters in Gryffindor Tower. Not that he presumed he would have very many occasions to use them to visit her, of course, but they were still convenient.

Minerva stood in her sitting room and surveyed it with a critical eye. She thought that everything was ready, and the room certainly looked nice, but that was as much Albus and the house-elves' doing yesterday as it was hers today.

The round table was covered with a white damask cloth, matching napkins at each place. Blampa had provided the nicest china and silverware available in the castle – although Minerva had her remove the first set of china she had brought, as it was hideously ugly, highly-decorated Victorian stuff; no matter that it had gold leaf on it, it would turn her stomach to try to eat off it – and Minerva had placed two Everlasting Nondrip candles in two low silver candlesticks and set them on the table in positions that wouldn't interfere with their conversation or their food. Blampa had convinced her that placing the chairs at angles to one another was better than having them across from one another, happily demonstrating this by having Minerva sit in one chair while she set her little body in the other chair, first in one position, then in the other. Despite the fact that Minerva could scarcely see the little house-elf's head over the table as it was, she did agree with Blampa in the end. She and Albus could sit beside one another and still look at each other while they talked. That was a nice thing about round tables, Minerva supposed.

The days were still very long, so Minerva had closed the curtains against the evening sun. Some daylight still filtered through, but that meant that she didn't have to light many other lamps or candles, and the ones on the table stood out more as a result. Minerva had planned the menu, and Blampa was going to arrange for the meal to arrive all at once so that they would not be disturbed. There was a cake sitting on the kitchen sideboard, nicely decorated by the Hogwarts house-elves. Minerva had dithered quite a bit about the issue of candles for the cake. To Minerva, the one thing that made a birthday celebration special was candles on the cake, otherwise, it could be a celebration of anything. Even if that was the only mark of celebration, it was the only one that mattered, in her opinion. She had to have candles on the cake. She clearly couldn't put one on for each year he had been alive. The cake just wasn't big enough. They would have a conflagration on their hands if she tried anything that ridiculous. Minerva grinned at that thought.

Aside from the impracticality of having a candle for each year, Minerva wasn't sure precisely how old Albus was, but she believed he turned one hundred-seventeen that day. Minerva felt uneasy when she thought of how much younger she was than he, how much a child she must still seem to him, and for a brief moment, she remembered her sense of hurt when he had called her a "good girl" at the beginning of the summer, but she shoved that thought aside. She would concentrate on this evening and making the celebration a happy one for him, for them both.

Minerva had finally decided on three candles for the cake. Three was one of her favourite numbers, but aside from that, each candle could have a separate meaning. The first one, the gold candle, was in honour of his birthday; the white candle represented his twenty years at Hogwarts; the third candle represented the same twenty years, but was in honour of their friendship. She had dithered terribly about the colour for the final candle, but finally made it red. It went well with the other two candles, and it was the colour of love. Any kind of love. Generally, romantic love, but if he didn't view her in that light, Albus would likely read nothing into it. If he did . . . perhaps it might stimulate his thinking. Minerva shoved that thought aside, too. No vain hopes, she told herself. Just enjoy the evening, enjoy Albus's company, and leave any hopes and fears behind for the time being.

There was one last preparation about which Minerva was unsure. She had a banner hung above the fireplace over the landscape, which said "Happy Birthday, Albus" and had different coloured ribbons hanging from it. It was concealed now, and she had thoughts that when she was ready to reveal that this was a birthday celebration, she would also reveal the banner, but she was not sure whether that was silly or not. She thought it was the sort of thing her other friends might appreciate, but with just the two of them there . . . would he think her completely foolish? Just a little girl decorating with childish decorations? But Albus liked to have fun. He even thought it amusing to have purple pee, after all. If she was honest, he was likely to appreciate that kind of decoration more than she would.

The hamper of sweets and the box from Madam Malkin's were in her bedroom. She would bring them out later, when she was ready to give them to him. Minerva wasn't sure when she was going to reveal that it was a birthday celebration. She could wait until the cake . . . then she could reveal the banner and bring out the cake. And then after he had recovered from that surprise, she could bring out his presents, first Quin's, and then hers – in a way, it was good that Quin's hamper of sweets was a bit over-the-top. It might make her own gift not seem quite as extravagant. Well, it would still seem extravagant, Minerva supposed. Her gift was likely to make Quin's hamper of sweets seem like a stale, lint-covered candy from the bottom of a child's pocket. But before she even gave her present to him, she would explain that it was for more than just his birthday.

Minerva closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She was becoming nervous about the gift again. She brought to mind her mother's reaction to the robes, the way her eyes lit up as she admired them, and her words of approval. The robes were the perfect present. She would just keep that firmly in mind.

Albus would be arriving soon. Minerva took one last trip into her bedroom to examine herself in the mirror. She was wearing the slate green robes with the silvery embroidery that she had decided on that morning, and she had put up her hair the way she had it the last time she had worn the gown, including the mother-of-pearl inlaid hair clips. Her make-up charms were subtle, but she thought they made her look as elegant as she possibly could look. Sophisticated and seductive were completely beyond her reach, Minerva thought with a sigh. Of course, seductive would not be particularly appropriate on this occasion, though she wished it were. Minerva took another deep breath and let it out. None of those thoughts this evening, only ones of warmth and friendship. Focus on the moment, she told herself, and on Albus. This evening was for him.

Minerva entered the kitchen and took down several glasses. She didn't know what Albus would want to drink, not that she had very much variety to offer him. Now Minerva wished that she had gone into Hogsmeade for Quin's parcel; she could have stopped in the shops and bought something more. But he couldn't drink a dozen different things, after all. It would have been wasteful to purchase something she wasn't going to use. Minerva hadn't arranged for any appetisers, since they were eating so early in the evening, but if Albus wanted something to nibble on, she would call Blampa, and she could do the same if he wanted something ordinary to drink, such as butterbeer, cider, or pumpkin juice.

She looked at the cake again. It was a Hogwarts cake, not one of Madam Puddifoot's creations, and Minerva suddenly worried that it wouldn't be good enough, but Blampa had reassured her that Wilspy had taken charge of its baking and was supervising the dinner, as well.

"Wilspy be's the bestest house-elf, Professor Minerva! Wilspy shows Blampa everything so's I, Blampa, be's a good house-elf, too. She be's the bestest!" Blampa had declared, more than a touch of hero-worship in her large, shining eyes.

Minerva wondered if she should sing "Happy Birthday" or not. She hadn't the best voice in the world. She could carry a tune, but unlike her brothers Malcolm and Murdoch, her voice could at best be described as "pleasant." Murdoch had a lovely baritone, though he reserved it mostly for drinking songs and the occasional Christmas carol. Malcolm was a tenor, and his voice was almost indescribable . . . if she hadn't thought it inappropriate, she would have enlisted him to sing at her tea party. Of course, one never knew what he might sing. Perhaps it was not even his voice that was so remarkable, but the expression behind it. It could be haunting, melancholy, joyful, mocking, or heart-rending, depending on what he was singing. Although he could be persuaded to join Murdoch in singing more usual fare, he often sang songs he had learned in his travels, often long ballads, and often in a language unknown to his listeners. One song that he sang he said he had learned in the Balkans, and it brought goose-bumps to her arms and raised the hair at the nape of her neck. In between verses, in a sing-song voice, he recited in English what he had sung of in the verse before.

This was the story of a man on a quest for his heart after great trials and many sorrows had first caused his heart to cease beating, and then had stolen away his heart, as the man, overwhelmed by his tribulations, relinquished it without a struggle as just another unnecessary burden. The song went on, verse after verse, retelling the man's many troubles and his long trek through many lands, his despair and his failures, and how he had finally regained his heart after overcoming numerous obstacles. Yet his heart sat heavy in his chest, like a stone, and was not warm and did not beat. Heart restored to him, the man travelled home, again encountering obstacles and trials, and yet finding them easier to overcome now that his heart was again in his chest. Yet still it did not beat; it was still and cold as stone, even after he returned home, even after defeating demons and monsters of all descriptions. And many loved this man and called him "hero," the man with the greatest heart, they called him, the giving and loving heart. And still his heart did not beat and lay cold and heavy as stone, completely still in his chest, and it brought him no joy. Then on the road, he met a beautiful princess who saw him and loved him, and the hero felt lighter, his heart not sitting so heavy in his chest. But yet it did not beat and was cold as stone. He became the princess's devoted companion, taming beasts for her amusement and giving her a giant lion on which to ride. In the dark of a cold winter's night, the hero saved the princess from a great fall into a deep abyss, and his heart grew warmer and was no longer cold as stone, but still, it did not beat. Then one day, the man was struck by dragon fire and a giant's club; he lay near death in a lonely wood. He dreamed of the princess and he dreamed of his death and he lamented his still and quiet heart. But the princess, riding on her great lion in search of him, found her hero, and with her kiss, she saved him, and with her tears she healed him, and when the hero's eyes met hers, his heart began to beat once more.

When Minerva had first heard the song at the age of eight, she had scoffed, saying that no man could live without a heart, nor with a heart that was cold as stone and did not beat. When she heard it at twelve, she wept. When she heard it at eighteen, she got up and left the room, unable to bear it.

Minerva shook off the memory of her peculiar brother and his even more peculiar songs, and decided that she would decide at the time whether to sing "Happy Birthday" or not. Likely not.

At that moment, the Silent Knight creaked into the sitting room, Fidelius at his side, and announced that the Master of the Castle was without and was asking for the Mistress of Gryffindor Tower. Minerva shook her head. Never a sensible word from that one. But what could one expect from a portrait?

Minerva went out to the sitting room and opened the door manually, admitting a smiling Albus. Minerva's face lit up; he looked wonderful in his rose and gold robes, holding flowers in front of him in one hand, a bottle in the other, and a small wrapped package floating over his left shoulder.

"Albus! Welcome! Come in," Minerva said. "Let me take those from you."

Albus handed her the flowers and the bottle, but left the small package floating above his shoulder.

"May I say that you look lovely this evening, Minerva?"

Minerva flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. You look very nice, too. You didn't need to bring anything, though."

She Summoned a small vase from the kitchen and it came to rest on the table.

"I couldn't arrive empty-handed, not when we are celebrating your first evening in your new quarters," Albus replied as Minerva put the flowers in the vase and looked at the bottle of cognac.

"This is very nice, thank you, Albus," Minerva said appreciatively, setting it down. "Perhaps we can open it after dinner – unless you would like some now. I have sherry, gillywater, and whisky – or anything that the house-elves can provide, of course."

"A small sherry might be nice, but first, you must open your house-warming present," Albus said, plucking the package from the air and holding it out to her. "It's just a little something that I noticed you didn't have and thought you might like."

How typical of the wizard, Minerva thought, coming to dinner bearing gifts on his own birthday. Well, he would be surprised later.

Minerva gestured to the sofa. "Let's sit down."

The two took seats at either end of the small couch, and Minerva began to unwrap the package, not using magic, but taking pleasure in opening it more leisurely by hand.

"You have already given me so much, Albus. You really didn't need to give me anything else." She paused, letting the small package rest on her lap. "The tiles, Albus . . . they were beautiful before, but this afternoon . . . I saw the new ones." Tears rose in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but not before Albus saw them.

"Oh, my dear! I had not wanted to distress you! I can replace them. It was foolish of me. Such a sad reminder. I will do it now – " He began to rise from his seat.

Minerva put her hand on his knee. "No, no, please, they are wonderful!" Tears rose in her eyes again. "I just . . . to see them there, with all the others, the ones of all the famous witches and wizards . . ." Minerva couldn't continue, and she tried to wipe her tears away.

"My dear Minerva, you belong among any count of great witches, whether anyone else recognises it or not. To me, you are the bravest, most clever, most remarkable, and most . . . impressive witch of any of them. It seemed fitting. . . ." Albus reached out a hand and brushed a tear away, then caressed her cheek lightly.

Minerva sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. Then she opened her eyes and sat up straighter, smiling slightly. "You exaggerate, Albus, but I do appreciate it, very much."

Albus shook his head slightly. "I exaggerate not at all, my dear. But come, open your real present now. It's just a small thing, as I said – "

"Please don't apologise for your present. I haven't even had a chance to open it and be disappointed yet!" Minerva said with a laugh.

She picked up the package and finished unwrapping the gold paper, revealing a plain grey cardboard box. She shook the top off and laughed when she saw its contents.

"A wizarding wireless!" she said.

"Yes, I noticed you didn't have one, and I didn't know whether you didn't care for them or what, but they can be nice to have on occasion."

"No, this is fine," Minerva replied, smiling as she stroked the shiny black box. "The one I had in London was a cheap one and the charms had begun to go, so I just left it when I moved. I simply hadn't replaced it yet. Thank you, Albus!"

She set the wireless down on her other side then leaned over and kissed Albus's cheek.

Albus smiled. "I am glad you like it, my dear. Perhaps we could . . . tune it in later, try it out."

"Of course. But now, our sherry. Dinner will be in just fifteen minutes now, but if you'd like something before then – "

"Just the sherry, thank you," Albus said.

Minerva returned from the kitchen a moment later with two small glasses of sherry.

"Slàinte Mhath," Minerva said as she handed Albus his glass.

"Slàinte," Albus responded, touching his glass to hers, then he amended, "Slàinte Mhor."

Minerva grinned. "If you are drinking with my brothers or my father, you will do rather well."

"I don't know about that. I don't have the head for drink that I once did, and if your brothers pour like your father does . . . ." Albus shook his head ruefully.

She laughed. "You're safest with Morgan, then. He practically doesn't touch alcohol, except Christmas and birthdays, that sort of thing. Two drinks, and my other brothers have him under the table."

Albus chuckled. "I could manage a little better than that, I believe."

Minerva picked up the wizarding wireless and looked around, then got up and set it over on the sideboard. She didn't even know what, if anything, that piece of furniture contained. That was one of the drawbacks to having a house-elf do most of your moving for you.

The two chatted only a few more minutes before their dinner arrived with a pop. Minerva suppressed a smirk. Two covered plates had appeared on top of the plates that had been set at their places, and other covered dishes sat on the far side of the table.

"I'll just fetch the wine," Minerva said.

She reemerged from the kitchen just a moment later carrying an uncorked bottle. Albus got up from the sofa and went over to the table and held a chair for Minerva before seating himself. Minerva poured him a taste of the wine and he indicated that she should just fill his glass.

As she poured her own glass, Minerva remarked, "I wasn't entirely certain what type of wine would be best with our first course, but this is a nice wine that I think tastes fine with almost everything."

She looked at him, but he made no move to lift the lid from his plate. Minerva had explained to Blampa what she had wanted, and Blampa, giggling with her hands over her mouth, assured her that it could be managed.

"Go ahead," Minerva said with a nod at his plate. She took hold of the handle to the lid covering her own plate.

Albus uncovered his plate just as she did, and Minerva watched his face. First he smiled, then he laughed.

"I did say beans on toast, didn't I?" he said with a chuckle.

Minerva laughed. "I told Blampa that I wanted her to charm the covers so that you couldn't smell them. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"It was." He grinned at her. "It is good to see you having fun, Minerva. I worried that you weren't happy those last months that you were teaching, and I see now that that was, in part, at least, my doing. So I appreciate your joke on many levels." He picked up his fork and prepared to begin to eat.

"No, Albus – as much as I dislike wasting food, I don't want you to spoil your appetite for your real dinner," Minerva said with a shudder. Beans on toast had to be one of the worst meals invented, in her opinion, and likely one of the reasons that Johannes had such a low opinion of British cuisine. She waved her wand and the top plates and their contents vanished.

Minerva revealed the other dishes. Beef stroganoff, overloaded with mushrooms, buttered egg noodles, baby carrots, and spinach cooked with garlic and olive oil.

"Wilspy said you enjoy stroganoff, but we almost never have it. I know you're not fond of spinach, but Wilspy said you will eat it fixed this way – I hope that was all right."

"Perfect, my dear! Truly, all of my favourites. And there look to be almost enough mushrooms in the stroganoff," he said, examining the dish over his glasses.

"I don't think you could get anymore in it unless you eliminated the beef," Minerva said with a smile as she served him.

Albus grinned. "Now, that would be a fine idea. But I thought, my dear, that you were not fond of beef," he said questioningly.

"Ah, as you yourself said, this is replete with mushrooms. Besides, I wanted to serve a meal you would enjoy, too." After all, Minerva thought, it is your birthday.

She was growing more impatient to reveal to him that it was his birthday dinner, but nervous, as well. Fortunately, as they talked and ate, her nervousness faded, and by the time they had finished their meal and the last of the wine with it, she felt quite relaxed, rather bold, and no longer at all nervous. Albus was definitely enjoying himself.

Albus set down his glass and looked at her with a smile. "This has been a most lovely meal, Minerva. Thank you."

"There's pudding, too. Would you like it now or would you like to wait a bit?" Minerva asked.

Albus took off his glasses and stretched slightly in his chair, putting his hands on the table. "I think perhaps a little pause will increase our enjoyment of it."

"All right. Are you finished, then? Would you like more wine? I have another bottle – "

Albus laughed. "Are you getting me in practice for your brothers?"

Minerva smiled. "I don't think I could drink any more, either, but I thought I would offer. We can have some cognac with our dessert."

Albus pushed back from the table. "We could try out your wireless," he suggested.

"Good!" Minerva would be agreeable to almost anything he suggested right now.

The two went over to the sideboard and Minerva flicked on the wireless. Albus turned the tuning knob. The first station they received was a sports review of a recent Quidditch match, the second station had a wizard with a nasal voice reading modern wizarding poetry – they both shuddered at that – but when Albus found the third station, he paused.

"This is nice," he said, glancing down at Minerva.

Minerva looked up at him and was struck by how very attractive he was. In that moment, she would have agreed that the sound of monkeys banging ashcans was nice. Fortunately, this was the station's "music for the dinner hour," and really was pleasant.

When Minerva didn't respond, Albus asked, "Should I leave it or turn it off?"

"Oh . . . leave it. You're right. It's very nice."

Minerva swallowed and turned away from him, thinking that she really must behave sensibly. Instead, though, she reached behind her and took his hand and led him over to the sofa. She dropped his hand as soon as they sat, however, her nerve failing her as soon as she looked at his face again.

Albus asked her more about her holiday and was amused by her description of her tea party. She deliberately focussed on all the things she had thought were going wrong but that actually were just fine.

"So, Poppy likes Murdoch," Albus said, eyes twinkling. "Was that why she was with you when you fetched the Vitamin Potion?"

"Yes. I took pity on her and invited her along for dinner at his place." Minerva smiled. "I actually think Murdoch was taken with her, too, although it may just have been flattering for him to have some feminine attention."

Albus cocked his head and thought a moment. "I am sure it is nice for him, but I think that perhaps Murdoch has more sense than some wizards and wouldn't respond to empty flattery, but would recognise Poppy's warm and generous nature. I think . . . even if nothing comes of it, they might still have each found themselves a new friend." He had always thought himself a sensible wizard, but then, despite his own misgivings and the warnings from a witch who did love him, he had still spent several months of his life escorting a witch who cared nothing for him. Albus certainly hoped that Murdoch had more sense than he himself had demonstrated. But Poppy was a fine witch, Albus thought, and certainly not prone to selfish deviousness.

Minerva shrugged, having a sense that Albus was thinking of himself and his ill-fated relationship with Valerianna. "I don't know . . . I think that sometimes we all want some companionship. And maybe we find it with someone who turns out to be . . . less than we had hoped, and perhaps worse than we had feared, but we persist, anyway, thinking that perhaps our hopes were right and our fears unfounded, until we discover that we were wrong." She sighed. "I once dated a French envoy for a few months, despite the fact that I knew almost immediately that not only wasn't he right for me, but that I really didn't even like him at all. But I was at an odd point in my life and I just seemed to lack the energy to say 'no' whenever he asked me out. It finally got to the point where continuing to see him was more unpleasant than any alternative, and I broke up with him. Of course, he wasn't happy about it, but . . ." Minerva shrugged.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, each reflecting on their own individual follies, when a bright tune came on the wireless, and Minerva looked up and smiled.

"I remember this one . . . Carson – " she looked quickly at Albus and stopped.

"Yes, my dear? Carson what?" Albus asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Well, if you don't mind mention of him . . ." Albus shook his head, and Minerva continued. "You know we saw each other a lot in London, those last months before he died. We weren't a couple, not like you thought, at least not at the time, but still, we would go out, have fun together. He used to take me dancing in Muggle London. We would dance with each other, or with others. We used to dance to this. It was one of his favourites. Mine, too."

Albus stood and held out his hand. "I am not in practice, I am afraid, but . . . may I have this dance?"

Minerva didn't speak, but put her hand in his and stood. It was a rather jazzy piece, and Minerva was surprised that Albus could dance to it at all. After he had spun her and pulled her in to him before releasing her and placing a hand at her waist again, Minerva laughed happily.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" she asked.

The music changed, and he let go of her, smiling. "Oh, parties . . . or, before parties, actually. Gertrude is a good dancer, and she helped me make sure I wouldn't embarrass myself entirely. At least, not on the dance floor."

Minerva smiled politely and tried not to think of him dancing with Gertie, although she had known before this that they had danced together. But Quin danced with Gertrude, too. As did Minister Tapper. She just wouldn't contemplate it. She sat down on the sofa again, and Albus joined her.

Graciously, Minerva said, "Well, she was a good teacher and you were a good pupil."

"Well, I cannot say that I am very good at anything introduced in this century, but I do try, so I thank you, my dear, for – "

"If you are going to say," Minerva interrupted, recognising his tone, "anything along the lines of humouring an old codger, then don't."

Albus laughed at that. "Thank you for the dance, then, Minerva."

"You're very welcome, Albus. Now. You sit right there. We can just have our dessert here, don't you think?"

"That would be just fine, my dear."

Minerva got up, insisting that she didn't need any help. A minute later, she sent two glasses sailing out to the sitting room.

"You can open the cognac, if you like, Albus, and pour us each a little."

Minerva peeped out to see Albus pouring the cognac as requested, and then setting the bottle aside. He sat back on the sofa and waited for her. She lit the candles on the cake.

"Albus, would you mind turning off the wireless, please?"

He obliged her. As soon as Minerva heard the music go off, she cast a spell that revealed the banner, then took a deep breath and watched from the door as Albus turned. When he saw the banner, his mouth opened slightly in surprise, then she Levitated the cake and stepped into the room, moving the cake around in front of her.

Minerva gathered all her nerve, and began to sing.

"Happy Birthday to you; Happy Birthday to you; Happy Birthday, dear Albus; Happy Birthday to you!"

Albus sat heavily on the couch, his mouth opening and closing, as the cake settled on the low table in front of him.

Minerva looked at him. "Happy birthday, Albus."

He looked from the cake to her. "Oh, my dear! I . . . how did you know? I didn't think you did . . ."

Minerva was surprised to see tears in his eyes. She smiled at him and said, "Oh, I have my ways. You didn't really think you could keep that information top secret forever, did you?"

"So . . . this dinner . . ."

"It was all for you, Albus. I just found a very good excuse to get you here," Minerva said.

"I don't usually really celebrate." He looked at the cake again, then up at her. "But this is certainly the nicest birthday I have spent in many, many years, my dear. It already was, even before you went into the kitchen."

Minerva's smile broadened. "I am very, very glad."

She Summoned the plates and utensils from the other table.

"There are even candles. On the cake," Albus said, as though he was still amazed that his birthday dinner really was his birthday dinner.

"Of course! It is a birthday cake, after all. The three candles each represent something. The white one is in honour of your twenty years here at Hogwarts. The gold candle is for your birthday, and the third candle is for, um, all the years of our friendship, for the years I have been blessed to know you," Minerva said, ending with a blush.

Albus smiled happily. "Wonderful!" He reached over and patted her arm, then gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Now can I blow them out?" he asked, looking every bit like an eager little boy.

"Of course – make a wish, Albus!"

Albus quickly closed his eyes then blew out the candles. His eyes snapped open and he looked over at Minerva and grinned. Minerva thought he was blushing, but it was likely the colour of his robes and the low light.

"Shall I serve the cake?" Albus asked.

"Definitely!"

Albus smiled and sliced them each a piece. The cake itself was chocolate, and it was filled with raspberries and thick whipped cream. There was more whipped cream, Minerva thought, than cake. The icing was chocolate, one layer of an almost brittle icing, then a softer chocolate butter cream over that in decorative curlicues and rosettes. Whole raspberries topped it all off.

It tasted even better than it looked, and Albus was very pleased with it, which pleased Minerva.

"This is wonderful, Minerva. Thank you!"

"This is your birthday, Albus. You don't think this is all there is, do you?" Minerva asked.

She waved her wand, opening the door to her bedroom, then she Summoned the hamper.

"There are always presents for a proper celebration," she said as she settled the large basket next to him. "This is your first present. Well, actually, the Vitamin Potions were your first present, but I couldn't very well tell you that when I gave them to you, or it would have spoiled the surprise. There's a card with it. Open that first."

Albus wiped his hands on his napkin, then reached out and plucked the card from the ribbon.

Albus read it out loud.

"Dear Professor Dumbledore,

"Quin MacAirt"

"He knew it was my birthday?" Albus asked, puzzled.

"I happened to mention it, then at the tea, he suddenly said he would like to send this along. I thought it sounded like something you might like, so I told him it was fine. I hope you don't mind . . ."

"No, I'm just surprised, that's all," Albus said.

He pulled on the ribbon, releasing the handles. Albus pushed them down then lifted the lid. A broad grin crossed his face. Minerva leaned over and looked curiously into the basket. It seemed that any type of Muggle sweet that one could ask for was in that basket. Hard candies, caramels, chocolate bars of various descriptions, boxes of truffles, and small boxes of different kinds of sweets that she couldn't even recognize. Albus looked at several of the little boxes, and offered her a box of truffles, but Minerva declined.

"I wouldn't mind trying one later, though," she said.

Albus chuckled. "Well, I can eat these, then take my Vitamin Potion! Thank you, my dear."

"Oh, that's from Quin. This," she said as she waved her wand, "is from me."

The large box from Madam Malkin's sailed out of the bedroom and Minerva caught it.

"This is not precisely a birthday present, Albus. It is a birthday present, but it is also more. It is in honour of our friendship, and for all you have done for me and all you have given me over all these years. I know that no material gift could ever provide a truly adequate expression of my gratitude and affection, but I hope that you will accept this as a token and gesture." Minerva handed him the box. "I hope you like it," she added nervously.

"If it is from you, I am sure I will," Albus said softly.

Minerva hadn't wrapped the box, but had only tied a broad gold ribbon around it. Albus removed the ribbon and lifted the lid. The lid fell to the floor. Albus blinked. He ran a tentative hand over the fabric and the stars shimmered brightly under his touch.

"Oh, my dear . . . Minerva . . ." he said softly.

"They're robes, Albus. I hope you like them."

"They are . . . marvellous." He finally looked back up at Minerva, who was watching him nervously. "I am not sure what to say."

"If you don't like them – " Minerva said, suddenly feeling as though she had just ruined a lovely evening.

"It's not that. I am just surprised . . . stunned, actually. They are beautiful. Thank you, Minerva. Thank you very much." He ran his hand over the fabric again. "I don't think I have ever seen anything like these before."

"They're a special design by Madam Malkin. The charms carry a one-hundred-year guarantee. There's a card in there that tells more about the robes and their design, as well as giving some basic care instructions. Madam Malkin explained a few things when I got them. The fabric is nine parts silk and one part Demiguise silk, which, she explained, helps hold the charms. The robes would look different on different wizards, but once you have worn them for a few hours, the charms will remain in the pattern that is tuned to your magic."

As Minerva spoke, Albus lifted the robes from the box and held them up in front of him.

"They are remarkable," he said, clearly taken with them.

"For a remarkable wizard," Minerva replied. "Would you like to try them on? I would love to see them on you. Once I saw them, I just couldn't imagine anyone else wearing them, and I couldn't imagine getting you anything different."

Albus smiled brightly. "Well, then, we will see what they look like, then."

"You can use my bedroom, if you like," Minerva offered.

"Thank you, my dear." He stood. "I'll be just a moment."

Minerva tried not to fidget as she waited for Albus to return. When the door opened and he stepped back into the sitting room, Minerva's breath was taken away. Stars shone, others twinkled, and constellations formed before her eyes. Falling stars seemed to shower the length of his arms. It was partly the dim lighting in the room, but Minerva was certain that, under her touch or when Quin had tried them on, the stars had not shone so brilliantly nor had there been so many. The effect was beautiful, mesmerising, and yet not at all distracting. Even the fine embroidery around the edges of the garment now seemed to glow, forming and reforming different alchemical symbols. Minerva thought she recognised the symbol for "fire" reappearing repeatedly. Eventually, those symbols would settle, too, and they might flicker, but not change. Albus turned, and she truly saw the stars of the Milky Way dusting the back of the robe, from the neck to the ankle. Even the stars on the hat shimmered and glowed.

"Oh, my, they are . . . perfect," Minerva said with a gasp.

Albus smiled at her. "They are absolutely beautiful. My only regret is that others will enjoy looking at them more than I will," he said. "But they feel wonderful, too. And I can sense the charms, but they are not distracting or annoying in any way. And I think . . . yes, I think that when they settle, I will likely not notice them at all."

Minerva stood and walked over to him. She ran her hand over the fabric covering his chest, then down his arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "They just . . ."

Albus's eyes shone as he looked down at her face. "That's all right. You certainly deserve to satisfy your curiosity about them after having chosen them."

Minerva reached out and touched his chest again, and watched as the stars flickered under her touch, some of them growing brighter, some fading, others twinkling in shades of green, blue, and red. She looked up into his eyes.

"They are perfect for you." She stepped back and looked him up and down. "I don't even think they look like they need any alterations. What do you think?"

Albus shook his head. "They feel as though they were made for me."

Minerva didn't know whether he had ever looked more handsome. "Keep them on a while?" she asked.

"I thought I would," he replied, looking down at her, a soft expression in his eyes.

The two returned to the sofa. Feeling emboldened by his earlier permission, Minerva reached out and ran her hand down his arm. It was wonderful to touch him and to feel him beneath the silky fabric.

"Thank you, Minerva. They are far more than I deserve, but they are wonderful, and every time I wear them, I will think of you."

Minerva shook her head. "You deserve far more than I could ever give you, Albus. I am very glad you like them."

"I cannot think of another gift I have received that has been this special, other than the gift of your friendship."

Albus leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Minerva put her arms around him and relaxed with relief when he put his around her, too. She sighed as she rested her her head against his shoulder.

"I am so glad you are in my life." She took a breath and held it a moment before saying softly, "You do know that I love you, Albus, don't you?"

Albus stiffened slightly and she could feel him swallow. He patted her back.

"I am very fond of you, too, my dear."

Minerva closed her eyes tightly and willed her disappointment away. Later, later, later. She would think about it later. She gave him a brief squeeze then sat back and looked at the cake.

"More cake, Albus? Or something to drink?" she said brightly.

"Perhaps a bit more cake would be nice . . . and milk?"

"Yes, I believe I have some. If not, we can call, um, Blampa." Her brain did not seem to be operating very well. "Let me just . . . see. You cut the cake. I'll be right back."

Minerva hurried into the kitchen, barely casting a glance at Albus in his beautiful robes. She looked at the glasses arrayed on her sideboard and selected two of them, then she opened her cool cupboard. Yes, Blampa had stocked her up with milk. She poured two glasses for them, then stopped and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath, stood up straight, then picked up the glasses by hand and carried them back into the sitting room. She set the milk down on the table.

"You know, Albus, I'm curious how the robes look when there's more light. Shall we see?"

"Of course, my dear."

Minerva waved her wand and lit the wall lamps on either side of the fireplace.

"They still look very impressive," she said, nodding.

Albus smiled. "Perhaps I will wear them on my next visit to the Ministry," he said. "They may be a bit elaborate, but I think they could be worn almost anywhere. They are dress robes, but I think they are so unique, they are in a class by themselves."

Minerva smiled. "As I said, they are perfect for you, Albus."

She joined him on the sofa and they ate their cake and drank their milk. Minerva glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. Albus appeared to be enjoying his cake, but he seemed tired, which was not surprising, given the pace he had been keeping the past few days.

"You know, Albus, why don't you just send Wilspy for the basket of goodies rather than navigating it through the castle tonight? And she can take care of your other robes, too, if you like, or you could put them in the box and carry them like that."

Albus smiled at her somewhat wearily. "I am a little tired," he admitted. "Would you mind if I left my other robes here with the basket and arranged to have it all fetched tomorrow? I can wear the best present," he said, touching the robes.

"Good. I'll put it all together. Don't worry about anything. I know you have to be up early. Do you still want me to join you all at ten, though?"

"Yes. That is when we begin the warding that involves the separate Houses, and it would be valuable for you to witness it."

Albus stood, and Minerva rose, as well.

"Thank you again for all the work you did on the rooms, Albus, especially the tiles. It means a lot to me."

"It was truly my pleasure. I am simply happy that you like them."

Minerva walked him to the door.

"Good night, Albus. Happy birthday," she said softly.

"This has been the best birthday I have had in longer than I can remember. Thank you." He smiled down at her. "I don't know if I will ever want to take these robes off, in fact. But I suppose I should!"

Minerva laughed lightly. "Yes, somehow I think that even the charms and the Demiguise silk wouldn't completely protect them against that kind of wear!"

Albus bent his head and kissed her cheek lightly, then opened the door. "Good night, Minerva. I will see you in the morning."

Minerva nodded mutely. Albus looked like power and magic and beauty incarnate in those robes, and she watched as, robes flowing out behind him like the sky, he walked away down the broad corridor toward the stairs that would bring him to his tower bedroom. She closed the door only after he had disappeared and she no longer saw the glow of the Milky Way at his back.