CXIII: Seeking Counsel

CXIII: Seeking Counsel

Rather than go to the library, or even bring her book outdoors with her, Minerva settled for opening all her windows and using the books she had available to her in her study. She could visit the library some other time. She wanted to be in when Albus called. The afternoon passed and Minerva began to anticipate Albus's arrival. But eventually, two-thirty had passed, then three, then three-thirty, and he still hadn't come by to see her. Had he said that he definitely would see her? She tried to remember. Perhaps she had only wanted to see him so much that she had assumed that a suggested possibility was a promised event. Minerva sighed. He probably became caught up in something. Albus did sometimes lose track of time.

Finally, as four-thirty approached, she rose and went into her bedroom to change for dinner. She had said that she would arrive at Quin's at six o'clock. Since she had to walk down to Hogsmeade to Floo through to his house in London, she thought she should leave by five-thirty at the latest, and she wanted a shower first.

Minerva undressed and hoped that Albus didn't arrive when she was in the shower. The thought of Albus arriving while she was in the shower gave her conflicted feelings. In actuality, it would be a pity, because she didn't want to miss his visit, but in her imagination . . . Minerva stepped into the shower, playing with the various water jets and the showerhead above her, and a frisson passed through her as she imagined Albus admitting himself with her password, perhaps to leave her a note to say that he was sorry he had missed her, but then he would hear the water running in the bathroom . . . the door to her bedroom was open, and the door to the bathroom. He would step into her bedroom, thinking perhaps to close the bathroom door for her, but as he came toward the door, he would see her there in the shower. He would watch her for a moment, and would just be backing away when she would turn and see him. She would reflexively try to cover herself, but then she would drop her hands before putting some soap on her fingertips and, as she watched him watching her, she would bring her hands back up to her breasts and slowly wash her them, her fingers circling her nipples. Then she would spread the soapy bubbles over her chest and stomach, then down to her dark thatch of hair before taking the handheld shower and rinsing, again moving slowly, passing the shower wand back and forth, then bringing it lower.

As she imagined it, Minerva took the handheld shower and rinsed herself, then brought it down and aimed it lower. She closed her eyes as she moved the shower wand with one hand and caressed her breasts with the other. She imagined that Albus, watching her, would take a step toward her, then pause, and when she beckoned to him, he would remove his shoes and then his robes. She could imagine how he would look standing there, his penis fully erect, filled with desire for her, and how he would enter the bathroom, open the shower door and join her there, looking at her with the same expression in his eyes as he'd had at lunch . . . that intense and warmly affectionate gaze. He would take the shower wand from her hand and direct its jet of water first to her crux and then to his penis before dropping it. He would run his hands over her wet body and she would take his erection in her hand and begin pulling and stroking it, her other hand finding his balls and teasing them, then drawing one finger from the base of his spine, between his legs, then stroking upward over his sac and meeting her other hand. Albus's eyes would be half-closed, and his breath would quicken as she played with him. He would bring his hand to her centre and begin to rub her there, pressing and massaging. As she imagined that, Minerva changed the shower jet to pulse against her. She moaned and envisioned Albus leaning forward and gently kissing her lips, then licking them before drawing her lower lip between his own and sucking it. As he did that, his finger would enter her, and she would be warm and wet and ready for him. She would raise one leg and encircle him with it as he put his arms around her and lifted her slightly, then he would enter her. They would stay like that as he kissed her and held her tightly, then he would lift her completely off the floor, step from the shower, and carry her into her bedroom. He would lay her gently across the bed, still holding her close to him, and he would withdraw and reenter, withdraw and reenter, then he would pump harder and harder. . . . Minerva came with a cry and sagged against the wall of the shower.

She relaxed a moment, then turned off the water, beginning with the overhead shower, then the water jets along the walls, and finally, the shower wand that now hung loosely from her hand. She hadn't even washed her hair properly, Minerva thought with a sigh. She really had to start being more sensible. It was one thing to bring herself a little pleasure, and quite another to torment herself with thoughts of Albus making love to her.

Minerva dressed in robes of sapphire blue, simple, but a bit nicer than her everyday robes. She put her hair up in a French twist, then added a pair of Charmed silver earrings in the shape of jonquils, and the silver necklace that went with it. They had been a gift from Rudolf. She rarely wore them because they reminded her of him, and she would always feel a twinge of guilt and a wish that things could have been different. But they hadn't been. He had been a wonderful lover and a warm and affectionate friend, both one of the most serious men she had ever known and one of the most joyous, but when he asked her to marry him, she had frozen. The very first thing that had crossed her mind was a single thought, not even a thought, but a vision, the image of Albus's face, and her heart had clenched with the thought that if she married Rudolf, she would be so far from Albus and might never see him again. And in that moment, she knew that she could not marry Rudolf, she could not even stay with him there in Germany and see how things proceeded. That would have been even worse for Rudolf. She knew she would never change her mind, as much as she cared for Rudolf, loved him, even, and as much happiness as he had brought into her life over the year that she had spent at her apprenticeship. She had even moved in with him a few months before, though she kept her own rooms for the sake of appearances. After he had asked her to marry him and she had declined, she moved back to those rooms, knowing that if she stayed with him, he would keep hoping that he could change her mind in the two weeks before she was scheduled to leave her apprenticeship.

The evening before she left, Rudolf had had her over for dinner. He was clearly sad that she was leaving, and still could not understand why, and he tried to get her to articulate her reasons to him. But she was completely unable to. What would she say? That she had harboured a crush on Albus Dumbledore since she was seventeen years old and she was in love with him still? So she simply told him that her life lay in Britain, not in Germany, and that she was sorry that she had led him to believe that they might have a future together. She told him quite truthfully that when they had started seeing each other, the possibility that they might become more serious about each other hadn't occurred to her, and that even when she had moved in with him, she had not given a thought to the future, but only to the fact that she loved him and wanted to spend her time with him while she was there. She stayed that night, one last night together with him, and when she left him in the morning, Rudolf kissed her, but then turned away and would not say good-bye.

Minerva fingered the silver jonquil that dangled from the necklace and considered wearing something different, but then there was a barking from the sitting room, and she heard the Silent Knight enter the landscape. She hastened into the room to see who it was.

"The master of the castle is without and begs admission to your lady's chambers," the Knight announced.

"You may admit him," Minerva said, wishing that the Knight would see fit to announce her visitors all of the time.

The door opened and Albus stepped in. "Good afternoon, my dear "

"Hello, Albus." She wanted to ask him why he was coming by so late after she had waited for him for hours, but she restrained herself. "Did you have a good time with the puppy?"

"Yes, quite a cute little fellow. He'll grow fast. That was an excellent idea of Malcolm's. Your brother is quite the wizard."

Minerva nodded, feeling somewhat impatient and not wanting to discuss her brother. "Did you look at the applications and read my recommendation?"

"Yes, I did, and I agreed with you. I have owled them both and asked them to come in for interviews. Wilhelmina will, I hope, have returned to the school by then and can talk to them and let me know what she thinks of each one."

Minerva nodded. "Was there anything else, then?" She really had to finish getting ready.

"I was wondering if you would care to dine with me this evening. Wilspy is not at the castle, but we could go into Hogsmeade, or if you would prefer to stay in, Hwouly could serve us, or we could eat in your rooms and Blampa would have another opportunity to provide us a meal."

"Oh, Albus." Minerva's shoulders slumped. "Did you just think of this now?"

"No, it crossed my mind earlier, during lunch, but then . . . we went to see the dogs," he said hesitantly. He seemed to notice for the first time that she was dressed differently than she had been at noon. "You look very nice, my dear."

"Thank you. I wish you had said something earlier." Minerva was so disappointed, she thought she could cry. But she didn't. She sighed and said, "I made arrangements with Quin for dinner tonight, and the plans were made on Saturday. I still could have changed them, though, if I had known earlier, but I can't very well beg off now."

"And I would not expect you to, nor would I have wished you to change your plans. I hope you have a good evening. I will find Johannes then, and tell him that I will be here after all," Albus said.

"I'm sorry, Albus. I would have liked to. I missed you the last few days."

"It was just a thought, since Gertrude is taking advantage of my return to leave the grounds, and Hagrid has taken Caesar into Hogsmeade to show him off, apparently. With Johannes here, I thought . . . I thought it would be convenient to leave the wards with him. But it was just a whim. Do not concern yourself. Enjoy your time with Quin this evening. Johannes wanted to play another game of Go, anyway, and they usually take us a few hours. We will spend quite an absorbing evening together, I am sure." He began to back toward the door.

Minerva glanced at the clock on her mantle. Only ten past five. They did have a little time. She could just shove her feet in her shoes, grab her shawl, and go. No need for anything else.

"You can stay a little while. I don't have to leave just yet. I have some time now," she offered.

Albus hesitated. "I would not want you to be late for your date."

"It isn't a date. But I won't be late. I was going to Floo, but I could just as easily Apparate there," Minerva said.

"Ah . . ." Albus made no move, either toward the door or further into the room.

"Come, sit with me a while." She gestured toward the couch. "I have missed you. It was a wonderful surprise to see you this morning." She went over and sat down herself.

"Well, just a moment, I suppose," Albus said, coming over and sitting in one of the armchairs.

"I was glad to see you here, of course, but surprised, as well," Minerva said. "I hope there was no emergency that called you back early."

"No, no emergency." Albus smiled slightly. "I suppose I am just so unused to taking a holiday that I don't know what to do with myself on one anymore."

"So, what did you do when you left Robert and Thea's?" Minerva asked.

"I had thought to spend some time at my cottage. Indeed, I Apparated there, but after I took care of a few of the maintenance tasks I needed to . . ." Albus shrugged.

"I see. What sorts of maintenance?" Minerva asked, both for something to ask and out of genuine curiosity.

"Oh, this and that. Refreshed my wards. Cleaned things up."

Minerva nodded. "We don't really have any wards at the house, at my parents', except for the Anti-Apparition ward on the house itself, of course. Every now and then, Malcolm talks to Dad about putting some in place, but they never do. Of course, the main one they would have considered is a Muggle-repelling ward, and now that Melina's marrying a Muggle, it hardly seems appropriate to do that " Minerva said with a chuckle.

"No, no, that would not be very convenient, would it?" Albus smiled.

"Do you spend much time at your cottage?" Minerva asked, trying to draw him out.

"Occasionally. But as you know, I spend most of the year here, and since becoming Headmaster, I haven't had much opportunity to get away. The last time I was there was . . . late last summer, I believe."

Minerva nodded. "Well, as I said before, the first is right around the corner. You should try to get away from the castle before the students return." She wanted to suggest that they go on outings together, but couldn't think of how to phrase it.

"I am quite happy here," Albus said. "I fill my days sufficiently without having to leave the school to find other things or people to occupy my time, and when I do, it is on business, as you are aware."

Minerva was taken aback by the stiffness in his tone. This was hardly the wizard who had been encouraging her to enjoy herself this summer, to get away, maintain her friendships outside the school. And it certainly wasn't the warm wizard who had joked with her that noon about eating his fruit and veg and who had told her that she was special to him.

"Yes, well, I am trying to take the advice I was given to get away during the summer months," Minerva replied.

"And you need to be leaving soon, I am sure, even if you are Apparating to Quin's flat, it takes some time to walk down to the gates," Albus said, standing. "I hope you have a good evening, Minerva. Please give my greetings to Quin." He nodded to her and with a gesture, opened the door.

"Good night, Albus. I . . ." She wanted to say that she wished she were staying in and having dinner with him, but his manner had been so off-putting, she could not say it with very much enthusiasm. "You know, Albus, we have been friends for a long time."

Albus paused and turned. "Yes, we have been," he said softly.

"I thought . . . I thought after that evening, that night when you told me so much about yourself and your past, I thought we were becoming even closer friends. But I am realising that you still say little of yourself today, what you are presently feeling or doing or looking forward to. I would like us to be closer, but it is difficult when I have the sense that I am the only one who wants that," she said. She swallowed and continued as Albus listened, his expression unchanging. "I would have loved to have had dinner with you. I would have changed my plans without a qualm. I have missed you. But it was a whim, as you say . . . just . . . nothing better to do." Minerva averted her gaze, afraid of betraying too much feeling. "And that's fine, I suppose. But if you were disappointed, I would have liked to have known it, and not feel . . . as though you are merely irritated with me for some reason I cannot fathom."

"Irritated? I am not irritated with you, not at all. And it is good for you to get away. My ideas are not always very good ones or very well timed. I do have a bit of school business I wish to discuss with you, though, if you wouldn't mind coming around at some point."

Minerva nodded. "Of course." School business. Well, now it was clear why he had wanted to have dinner with her. And she had been foolish enough to repeat that she had missed him.

After Albus had left, Minerva went back into her bedroom found her favourite shoes, and without much thought, charmed them to match her dress. She should find her matching shawl, but she couldn't be bothered. It wasn't cool yet, and when she came back later, a warming charm would be sufficient to keep her warm on the walk up from the gates. She had no appetite whatsoever for dinner now, but she was still looking forward to seeing Quin, even more now than before. Albus's behaviour not only puzzled her, but it troubled her, and she didn't know whether it was only because of her feelings for him. Perhaps she was being unreasonable, seeing things that weren't there, both positive and otherwise.

Minerva arrived on Quin's doorstep at ten minutes before six. A little early, but hopefully not too early for him. There were two ways of being not on time, Grandmother Siofre used to say, being too late and being too early. She lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped on the door. A moment later, Quin appeared, shirt sleeves rolled up, collar undone, his loosened tie tucked into the front of his shirt, and a short flowered apron covering his trousers.

Minerva smiled, as much at the little flowered pinny as in greeting, and said, "I am too early. I am sorry, Quin."

"Not at all, although I had expected you t' come by Floo. Please, come in "

Minerva stepped in. Mmm. The aromas were wonderful, and her appetite began to return.

"Something smells very good," she said.

Quin smiled. "I'm glad – I hope it tastes good, as well. Please, um, come into the sittin' room with me while I close the Floo. I had just left it open for you."

Minerva watched as he reset the Floo to allow admission only to members of the family.

"Are your children still with Ella?" she asked.

"Until sometime next week, they are," he answered. "I took them all t' lunch today, since I knew we would be having dinner this evenin'. Mrs Manning had the day off, so I'm cooking for us, and I got home later than I had wanted, so I'm still at it. Like to keep me company while I cook?"

"Of course And I would be happy to help, really, Quin."

"If you like, you can put the salad together. But the rest is a one-wizard job."

Minerva thought that was just as well, since her cooking skills weren't particularly advanced, but she could chop and stir, and so forth, manually or magically. Rudolf used to cook for her often. She loved a wizard who could cook. She wondered whether Albus could cook. It wouldn't matter if he couldn't, of course . . . not that it mattered anyway. She would hardly have any opportunity to find out, and being at Hogwarts, there was no need for anyone to cook.

When they finally sat down to eat, Quin insisted on eating in the dining room, which had windows looking out on both the street and, on the other side, the courtyard garden. It had a large table, but he set just one end for them and opened the French doors out to the courtyard.

"We could eat out there, but I find this a nice compromise," he said after opening the doors.

"It is, and quite comfortable."

They spoke a bit of Quin's day and the business that had kept him in the City longer than he had anticipated that afternoon, then Minerva mentioned that she had spoken with Malcolm.

"You needn't have done that, Minerva," Quin said.

"Yes, well, I was concerned, myself, and curious, to be honest. Sometimes I'm too curious for my own good," she replied.

Quin grinned. "Must be the cat in you, to be sure "

"No doubt But, anyway, on Friday, when I was still at my parents' place, he came by for dinner, and we talked a bit." Seeing the slightly apprehensive look on Quin's face, Minerva decided to tease him just a little. "I mentioned his visit to you, and he said, let me see if I can quote him exactly, he said that you were quite pretty, with lovely blue eyes and long legs, but rugged at the same time. He said that it was a delicious but uncommon combination in a wizard, and you were quite a charmer and a generally attractive package. Oh, and he mentioned your dimples."

Minerva watched Quin's face as she recounted Malcolm's description of him. He spilled his wine as he set his glass back down on the table, looking quite pale.

"So he, um, that is – "

"And he also said that he was not interested in you that way in the slightest," Minerva said with a laugh.

"What?" Quin was clearly confused.

"He really did say all those things, but since I had to suffer through it, I thought you should have to, as well. He suggested that he might have been on a quest to determine your intentions toward me, but then said that hadn't been it, either."

"Oh, well, that's good, then, I suppose – you really had me there for a moment, you know, Minerva. I was afraid I was goin' to have t' find a way to let the bloke down gently, and I have a hard enough time of that with the witches, I didn't fancy having to do it with him. Not that it would be the first time, but the others were quick and easy – I mean, explaining the facts and me lack of interest. Malcolm, on the other hand, he's your brother. And, well, that would make it more awkward, that's all."

Minerva grinned. "Well, you have no worries on that score. In fact, I think the world at large might be safe from Malcolm's attentions for a while."

"Really? He's after takin' off for some remote corner of the earth again?"

"No, not so remote. Although I suppose some would consider the Highlands remote." Minerva took a sip of wine. "You know that I returned to the school on Saturday, well, I have seen quite a bit of brother Malcolm since then. I even had breakfast with him this morning."

"Breakfast – you mean – is he possibly there visitin' another witch of our mutual acquaintance?" When Minerva nodded, Quin said, "Well, I'll be . . . . and how is Gertrude?"

"She's fine. She seems more relaxed each time I see her." Minerva giggled, slightly giddy after the wine and the good meal. "But given what she and my brother seem to spend a lot of time doing, I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise."

"I have to admit, though, that I am surprised by their sudden attachment – particularly with your last suggestion," Quin said. "Are you sure they're, you know . . ."

"Sleeping together, as they say?" Minerva asked, surprised by Quin's discomfort with the topic. "Quite sure. And I'm sure that it is much too vigorous to be called 'sleeping,' either "

"Minerva! What a thing to speculate about – this is Gertie, me aunt, well, me wife's aunt, and your brother "

"I'm not speculating, Quin. I'm talking about eye-witness evidence here " Minerva laughed again at the expression on Quin's face. "Honestly, Quin, I had no idea that you were so reserved "

"I'm not, not really, but . . . what do you mean, eye-witness? 'Tisn't that you saw them together, is it?"

Minerva nodded. "They had no idea I was there, of course. But Gertie was practically attacking Malcolm right there in the middle of Hogwarts. Not that he resisted. And they were definitely well beyond the first kiss. Very well beyond it."

"But they only just met " Quin protested.

Minerva shrugged. "I gather that Malcolm usually moves fast – both into and out of relationships – but he has no wish at the moment to move out of this one. As for Gertrude, I did speak to her about it, just a little. Apparently, she was attracted to him immediately, and when he made overtures to get to know her better, she took him up on them. And they bounced about the country doing who-knows-what with various creatures and curses, and got to know one another better in the process. From what Malcolm told me, before he knew it, he cared more for her than he had expected to."

"Gertrude went out with him on his jobs?" Quin asked. When Minerva nodded, he said, puzzled, "But she's never been interested in doin' that sort o' thing, and I would never say anythin' to her, but I have always thought her lack of interest in exercisin' her magic t' be peculiar, at the very least. Lives in her head, and in her books, from what I've seen. O' course, she always has liked t' get out and hike, but that's a bit different from what I understand Malcolm does."

"Apparently his stories appealed to her – well, you could see that for yourself that Sunday. She hung onto his every word. And when he invited her along on his jobs, she went."

Quin narrowed his eyes. "D'you think he's done somethin' to her? Somethin' to encourage her along, then? Because if so, if he's done anythin' to her, I'm not after carin' how many Nundus he's survived, I'll not be havin' him hurtin' our Gertie!"

"Calm down, Quin! Honestly! You wizards!" Minerva said, rolling her eyes. "First of all, I do believe that Gertrude can take quite good care of herself, secondly, I am certain that Malcolm did nothing but be his usual self, which appears to be just what Gertrude fancies, and thirdly, if Malcolm did anything to hurt Gertie, you wouldn't have to do anything, because I'll have done something first. He is my brother, after all. But he hasn't done anything untoward to gain her affections."

"All right, then . . . and if that's the case," he said, a sudden smile brightening his face, "I'm happy for her. She needs somethin' more in her life than the school and Dumbledore. Robert's a fine son, o' course, but she doesn't see him often, an' he has a life o' his own. Good for her, then "

Minerva laughed. "That was some turn around, from wanting to kill my brother to wishing Gertrude happiness with him "

Quin shrugged. "I liked your brother. And I want Gertie to be happy. 'Tis a simple thing."

"Yes . . . a simple thing." Minerva sighed. "A simple thing, you say, but you know that love can also bring pain. And they still might end up hurt, one or the other or both of them, even with neither of intending it."

"But that's no reason not to love," Quin said. "Not to try for it. And with all the pain I had, and still have, at losin' Aileen, I would never wish I hadn't found her and loved her and had her love."

Minerva nodded, but she was silent, and her mood had shifted. Wouldn't it be better for her not to love Albus? Or not to love him as she did? She could take no joy in it, and little hope of any.

Quin waved a hand and cleared the table of the dishes, but leaving the wine and glasses. He looked at Minerva seriously. "You wanted to see me and talk, and I've dominated the conversation. . . . You're feelin' less hopeful again?"

Minerva nodded. "You know that when I wrote to you, I had returned to Hogwarts only to discover that Albus had left on holiday." She sighed. "You know . . . I don't begrudge him his holiday, not in the slightest, and I know, rationally, that it is unreasonable of me to expect that he would tell me anything of his plans, but still . . . I had returned early, so looking forward to seeing Albus, and then he was not there. And he had left no word, nothing, and I didn't know where he was or when he would be back, and I was just so very disappointed, I am embarrassed to say how disappointed I was. Gertrude told me yesterday that she expected him back either Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, but he returned early. I met him shortly after he arrived . . . I was very pleased to see him, and for a moment, I thought he was equally happy to see me, but then he seemed completely uninterested in spending time with me, even to discuss Hogwarts business. Again, it was unreasonable of me, but – "

"Not unreasonable, Minerva. Not at all. But did you actually tell him that you wanted to spend time with him, that you were happy that he returned early?"

"Not exactly. I did offer to stay and talk with him about the applicants for the Care of Magical Creatures position, though. And I asked him about his holiday, but he didn't say very much."

"So you only asked him to spend time with you discussing Hogwarts business?" At Minerva's nod, Quin asked, "And yourself? What did you say of your holiday and early return to Hogwarts?"

"That it was good, that I had seen family . . . and that I returned to begin preparing for the term," Minerva replied.

Quin said, "Did it occur to you that he may have been disappointed, as well? That p'rhaps he wanted to see you for some reason other than Hogwarts business, but didn't feel comfortable bringin' it up, since your focus was on work?"

"No, no, that didn't occur to me," Minerva said slowly. "But that would be silly – why wouldn't he then at least want to see me to discuss the applications? And it's not as though we have only had a professional relationship – we have known each other for years, after all."

Quin shrugged. "And why did you not simply ask him to join you in your rooms later – for tea and a chat? You could have done, just as you say he could have. If he is wishin' he could have somethin' more with you, but is unsure of himself, he might think your focus on work was off-puttin', though you don't mean it that way."

"Yes, that could be, except then at lunch . . . oh, Quin, I was so happy after lunch. I am becoming pathetic, I truly am. He gives me one smile, and I grasp at it like a lifeline. He was sweet at lunch, and he joked with me . . . but it was only joking. He said something about my being special to him – not in so many words – and I took it to heart. Then before he went off to visit Hagrid's new puppy – something Malcolm got for him – he suggested he would come and see me this afternoon. At least, I thought he had. But it was more vague than I had interpreted it. I waited all afternoon for him, thinking he would be by at any time. I even stayed in my rooms, waiting, instead of going to the library as I had planned. But he didn't come. Then he finally appeared at my door just as I was getting ready to leave for dinner. And he asked me to have dinner with him, to go out to Hogsmeade or to dine in, whichever I preferred. It was already after five by that point, though. I couldn't just change my plans at the last minute like that."

"O' course you could have, Minerva I would have understood. You could have just sent word to me," Quin said.

Minerva shook her head. "And owl would have arrived too late. I couldn't leave you wondering where I was or if something had happened to me. Especially not after you had changed your own plans to have dinner with me – and cooked, too. And even if that were not a consideration, it does seem that Albus . . . when I want to spend time with him, he often puts me off, whether explicitly or not, but then if he gets an idea in his head that we might have dinner or what-have-you, he simply expects me to have no other plans. I don't understand it at all."

Quin thought for a moment. "It could be that he's hopin' that if you have nothin' t' do, you'll not be able to say 'no' when he asks, but if you do . . . you're sayin' 'no' for a reason other than not wantin' t' spend time with him. An' if he asks you in advance and you decline . . . it means that you don't want t' see him. I'm not sayin' that he thinks this, he may not know he's doin' it, even. Or it could be that he's tryin' t' be casual about it, not wantin' t' make it seem anythin' o' grand importance to him, not wantin' you t' think he puts too much store in your answer."

"Possibly. Or it could be that he has nothing better to do for the evening, and an idea pops into his head, a whim, as he put it." Minerva smiled wryly. "And then, to top it off, when we were talking, he dismissed my suggestion that he try to enjoy these last weeks before the students return. He said that he had quite enough to fill his time without leaving the castle to find anything else. This from the man who has been encouraging me to get out and enjoy myself this summer. What was worst, though, I tried to express my disappointment that he hadn't asked me to dinner earlier in the day, that I would have enjoyed spending time with him because I had missed him, that I would have changed my plans. And do you know what he said? He said that he would not expect me to change my plans, and that he has school business to discuss with me, so could I come by and see him about that. That hardly sounds like a man who is simply shy about asking me to dinner and risking me turning him down, Quin."

"P'rhaps not." Quin shook his head. "I am sorry, love. But it hasn't been long since you've been tryin' to sway his view of you. Give it more time, give him more time. If you love him, and I know you do, there is a wizard there whom you love, and you need to be patient with that wizard, give him a chance to express himself. Or is this the way he has always been?" he asked.

"I don't know . . . we haven't had this kind of contact with each other before, not since I was a student. And that, obviously, was quite different. I still see the wizard I fell in love with, and not just when he is with others, but when he is with me . . . perhaps if he was always this way, either with me or in general, I would think that the person I fell in love with doesn't really exist, that he had been a construct of my youthful imagination and the strong physical attraction I have to him. But I do still see that wizard, and feel him, it's just as though he disappears sometimes and becomes this near-stranger."

"I think you just need to be persistent, Minerva. And honest with him, although perhaps you might not want to admonish him for his desire to spend time with you – I know you didn't mean it that way, but if he's unsure of himself, he could interpret it so." Quin hesitated for a moment. "You know, Minerva, you've never said, and if you don't want to say, that's fine . . . but you have been in love with him a long time. When did you first realise?"

Minerva sighed. "You'll think me an irrational, romantic fool. I have loved him practically since I first met him when I was a child, and then one day, I realised I was in love with him and that I needed him desperately but that I could never have him. I was barely seventeen," she said softly, "and here he was, this very powerful, brilliant, accomplished wizard, my teacher, and I was in love with him. For a long time, I hoped it was just a crush, or the result of a magical accident that I had had, or some combination of the two. Being a teenager, I was very strongly affected by it. And it did come on very suddenly, this realisation . . . but the feelings themselves had been growing before that. I think it was inevitable. I tried to fight it. I tried to 'cure' myself of my physical attraction for him, and that didn't work at all. And I tried to focus my feelings on someone else, thinking that if I were in a normal relationship, one that was appropriate for a witch of my age, my feelings for him would fade and change, but they did not. In fact, it was Carson that I began to see, but when he kissed me – this is terrible, Quin – it literally made me physically ill the first time, and it didn't get much better, and so I broke it off with him while we were still in school. Then later, when we were both in London and I so rarely saw Albus, I tried with Carson again. He was a dear, sweet boy, and I cared for him, and I wanted a normal relationship. But that time, he broke it off. We were still friends, and we still went about together, but . . . he said that I was destined for someone in particular, and that he wasn't the one." Minerva's eyes filled with tears. "I felt terrible about that, and worse after he was killed."

Quin took her hand. "He had some of the MacAirt gift. 'Twasn't strong in the lad, but your feelin's for Dumbledore . . . they are powerful. He no doubt sensed that. I am sure that he valued your friendship. You needn't feel bad about it." Minerva nodded, and Quin said, "Let's go into the living room. We can have coffee and dessert, if you like."

They settled with their dessert, and Quin said, "You mentioned a magical accident. Would you like to tell me about that?"

Minerva recounted the incident and its aftermath, including her extremely heightened awareness of Albus and how she could barely concentrate when she was in his presence.

When she was through, Quin said, "Sounds t' me as though, even if the accident didn't cause the feelin's, it brought them to the fore, and more strongly than if they'd bided their time to emerge, and despite what your mother and all the books say, I do believe that the way that he staunched your drain had an effect, as well. I'm not sayin' he caused anythin' in particular. But you two, if your magic is particularly complementary, it could have caused you to be more sensitive to his magic after that. If 'twere anyone else who did it, nothin' would have happened between you, but because 'twas Dumbledore, it helped his magic call to yours and yours to his. He's so powerful, though, it might not affect him the same way – he likely is much more aware o' the magic residin' in others, anyway, and was already aware of yours before this accident. If you are . . . soul mates, though I dislike that term," Quin said with a grimace, "your awareness of his magic would have grown over time, anyway, and your love and physical attraction to him certainly would have."

"Soul mates? That's a rather old-fashioned and romantic term. And foolishness, in my opinion," Minerva said.

"Is it really?" Quin asked with a smile. "Much as I dislike the term, there is some truth to it. If the two meet, that is. And if other circumstances don't separate them. People can usually live quite happily without their so-called soul mate, and do. Even if they meet, there's no sayin' that they won't meet an' marry some other person. But the match would never be the same, not as deep, not as enrichin', not as satisfyin'. . . . I think you and your Albus are like that, but even more so than most, at least on your end. Could be a lot of factors that contribute to that, but your relative youth when you discovered your feelin's for him probably played a role, and the intensity of them when they first arose. But if I'm right, and I'm not sayin' I am, this is all conjecture, then Albus has his side o' the feelin's, too. Y'aren't soul mates if the love is unrequited." At Minerva's expression, Quin said, "But that's also good news, as it means conversely that you might still meet someone else, not a soul mate, p'rhaps, but a great love, who loves you and whom you can love."

"But you said . . . in the divination, you said my joy would die, and my love . . . I don't understand," Minerva said.

"I was just sayin' that you have t' give it a chance, love," Quin explained. "You can't move on until you do. And with any luck, you won't have t' move on, and he'll love you just as you love him, and you'll both find your joy. But you've given your heart to him, and until you reclaim it, either by givin' it to him openly and havin' him accept it, or by offerin' it and, well, havin' to take it back, so t' speak, you'll always be pinin' for him. Essentially, Minerva, you have t' stop pinin', one way or t'other."

"I don't know . . . I have tried. I have tried to be more open with him about my feelings for him. And I thought . . . last week, he told me some things about himself, about his past, very private, personal things, and I thought it had some significance for our relationship, but now . . . I just don't know."

"I think that is good. You need to be patient with him and yet persistent, is my thinkin'," Quin answered. "Would you like another glass of wine? Or somethin' else? I have some nice Gillywater a business associate gave me. From Sweden. S'posed to be somethin' special."

Minerva shrugged. She did like Gillywater. "All right, the Gillywater sounds nice."

After he had poured the clear alcoholic drink for them into two small glasses, he said, "You mentioned that you've tried to be more open with your feelin's. I know you don't think it went well on his birthday, from what you said, but, have you given it another chance?"

Minerva sighed. "I've told him twice that I love him, Quin. Used those precise words. The first time was on his birthday, when, as I told you, he said he was 'fond' of me. The second time . . . it was after a long and difficult day. We had found out that Pretnick had died, and how, and Albus was feeling badly about it, naturally, as was I. I was trying to offer him some comfort, and when I hugged him, I said it again, that I loved him. At least this time, he didn't tell me that he was fond of me, too, but he didn't say anything at all."

"But he didn't push you away," Quin said. At Minerva's nod, he said, "He accepts it, then, I would say, though I wasn't there, and I do have a hard time readin' him. I figure that it's all that Occlumency and other self-control he practices. I've heard he used to have quite the temper when he was young, killed a man in a fit of rage, so he's likely grown quite adept at his self-control."

Minerva frowned. "If it is the story I am thinking it is, he didn't kill him outright, and the man was raping the fiancée of a friend of his. But you are right, he did have a temper. Or he thinks he did, anyway. And he has learned to control his emotions, I suppose."

"Well, whatever it was, I find him a difficult read. Hafrena might have a better sense of him, but she never offers an opinion that isn't asked for."

"You mean . . . she was my Divination teacher . . . I wasn't taking Divination when I had my magical accident, but still . . . is it possible that she knows how I feel, that she has always known?" Quin nodded, and Minerva buried her head in her hands. "Oh, gods, how embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed, love. She is very sensitive, and your feelin's are just one set amongst many. As I said, she doesn't say anythin' unless asked, and then only of the person who is doin' the askin'. And she can turn it off, to an extent, so 'tisn't as if every time you're in the same room with her, she's pullin' your feelin's off you. She most certainly hasn't told anyone else," Quin reassured her.

"Well, that's a relief, at least." Something occurred to Minerva. "That reminds me, Quin, have you said anything to Gertrude about me, about my feelings toward Albus? Even unintentionally?"

"What? No, I wouldn't do that – is this because of what I said about Johannes? That was indiscreet of me, and I shouldn't have, but really, I haven't said anything to Gertrude. I haven't even had occasion to. Other than seeing her at your tea, when I scarcely had an opportunity to speak to her since she was off cavorting with your brother and apparently falling in love, herself, I haven't spoken with her since the Gamp party. And our correspondence has been on other topics altogether. Although . . ."

"Although?" Minerva asked.

"Well, she did remind me again in a letter last week that . . . that she hoped I was not growing overly attached to you. I didn't even respond to that, though." Quin looked uncomfortable.

"She thinks that you are growing too attached to me?" Minerva asked. When Quin nodded, she laughed. "You really should disabuse her of that notion, Quin. Although, preferably without mentioning my own feelings toward the Headmaster."

Quin shrugged one shoulder, then poured more Gillywater for them both. "I can take care o' me self," he said. "So, how are things at the school, elsewise?"

Minerva told him more about the puppy that Malcolm had procured for Hagrid, and about Johannes's unexpected return to the school, and of both occasions that Malcolm had shown up unannounced at her door. As she sipped her Gillywater and told Quin of Malcolm's attempts to pretend that he and Gertrude were nothing but friends until she had revealed that she had seen the two in the corridor, Minerva's mood lightened. Soon, Quin was telling her of the time that Ella had walked in on him and Aileen when they had thought they were alone. Unfortunately, they couldn't pretend that nothing was going on, and Ella had looked him up and down and said, "Yes, well, I do understand now, Mr MacAirt, what my daughter sees in you. But I would prefer to see much less of it in the future." Then she had waited in the kitchen for them to dress, and when they came in and he apologised to her, she had simply wanted to know if they were setting a wedding date.

"And so I asked Aileen t' marry me, right there in her mother's kitchen. 'Twasn't the romantic settin' I'd planned on, but I'd already found an engagement ring, and could Summon it from me coat pocket, so there was that, at least, and they both knew it wasn't just because I'd been put on the spot."

The way Quin told the story, even imitating Ella's accent, had Minerva laughing, but she said, "I laugh, but that must have been very uncomfortable."

"For all three of us, I assure you. I don't know who was more embarrassed "

Minerva held out her glass, and Quin refilled it, then topped off his own.

They talked more, Quin telling stories about his courtship of Aileen and about his children, and then Minerva told about teaching Hagrid to fly a broom and their games of Swivenhodge the summer she spent at Hogwarts.

"You spent a summer at Hogwarts when you were a student? Isn't that unusual?" Quin asked.

Minerva nodded. "It was for a special project, and it was the summer after I had discovered 'It,' as I called my feelings for Professor Dumbledore, so there were times when it was difficult. But it was fun, too, and I felt very grown up. Well, I was, I suppose, as I was of age, but being a student . . . this was different. I was working with Albus and Gertrude on a special project, and although they obviously were in charge of it – Albus was, anyway – they still treated me more like a colleague than a student." She took a sip of her Gillywater. "I appreciated that from Gertrude, but it didn't stop my raging jealousy of her."

"Jealousy?" Quin asked.

"Mmm. Of her relationship with Albus. They may have treated me as an adult on the project, but I was still a child, really, and they had known each other so long. I never wanted to contemplate it, but I was convinced that there was something between them. One time I found them together – not like you and Aileen, or Malcolm and Gertie, or anything like that, thank goodness – but still, they seemed so close, and when Gertrude moved away from him . . . somehow, that was what did it for me. That she had so deliberately let him go and moved away." Minerva sighed. "Not that I would expect her to do anything else, of course, looking back on it from an adult perspective. But it seemed so fraught with meaning to me . . . and the way he speaks of her, even today, they are obviously very close."

Quin nodded. "I can see how as a teenager, you would be jealous of her. She could have a kind of access to him that you, as a student, couldn't have, and they had a long-term friendship. But I doubt they were anything but friends."

Minerva frowned slightly. "I don't know, obviously, but . . . I don't think they are involved now – I know they aren't now that I've seen her and Malcolm together – but I think they may actually have had something in the past. But it's confusing. I don't understand it."

"What don't you understand?" Quin asked.

"How they could have something, especially after such a long friendship, and now they don't? Earlier today, I wondered whether perhaps Albus had dumped her for Valerianna, and that's why he didn't listen to her when Gertrude tried to tell him that the cow was bad news – I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything like that, it must be the Gillywater," Minerva said, feeling as though she had been very indiscreet.

Quin smiled. "I had assumed 'twas somethin' like that – about Valerianna, not about Albus and Gertrude. But I find it difficult to imagine that Dumbledore would drop Gertie in preference for Anna. He may not be particularly adept when it comes to women, but I think any wizard could see that Gertrude is a much finer witch than Anna."

Minerva shrugged. "It was just a thought. But you didn't think that they were ever together like that?"

"'Tisn't impossible, nor even unlikely, I s'pose. I have only known Gertrude since . . . I don't know, forty-four, forty-five. We met before I married Aileen, but we didn't really get to know each other until after the war, after Alroy was born, actually. So, even though I never sensed anything between them, I never have been able to read her well, and 'tis possible that they had some kind of relationship back while you were in school. But I never saw any indication of it when we would get together for family occasions and he would be there. He seemed like a member of the family, but . . . . I don't know. I could be wrong. But you are definitely correct when you say that if they ever did have anythin' together, they don't now, and haven't had in a long time, or Dumbledore never would have been escortin' Valerianna, to be sure."

Minerva yawned. "I'm sorry, Quin . . . I come here, and even when we're supposed to be relaxing, I somehow bring the conversation back around to Albus. You'll be very sick of seeing me soon, with all the moaning I do."

"Ah, love, you are fine. You don't moan, and I'm happy to be here and listen and try to help however I can. And I do enjoy your company. But it is getting late, and you are tired."

Minerva nodded and stood. She blinked. "No Apparating for me tonight. I'll have to Floo back," she said.

"Then I'll Floo with you."

"Oh, no need to do that," Minerva protested.

"There is a need, love. Even once you Floo to Hogsmeade, you'll be walkin' back to the castle alone and in the dark. And you may not have noticed the time, but it is almost one o'clock. You would have to Floo to the Hog's Head, an' I'm not after lettin' you Floo there alone at this hour of the day, for all I know you're a capable witch," Quin responded, standing.

"Oh, I had forgotten that . . ."

"Or, you could stay here, if you like," Quin offered. "There's a guest room always made up, and I can loan you some pyjamas to Transfigure however they would be comfortable. Then we can have breakfast in the morning, and you can leave when I Floo to work."

Minerva hesitated. "I wouldn't want to put you out . . ."

"Wouldn't be no such thing, Minerva. Mrs Manning will be here tomorrow afternoon, and she can take care of the room. And I always make breakfast every morning. So no trouble at all."

Minerva smiled. "All right. I would like to avoid the walk, with or without you, to be honest. I feel like I'm asleep already, and I definitely should have stopped drinking the Gillywater a glass or two ago."

"Very good, then. Let me show you your room."

He brought her upstairs and led her down the hall to a pretty bedroom with pale blue walls and blue and yellow floral furnishings.

"There's a small loo through here, with its own shower, should you care for one, so you have privacy," he said, opening the door next to the bed. "There's a new toothbrush in the cabinet – Mrs Manning is always prepared – and there should be fresh towels there. I'll be back in a trice with something for you to wear. Look and make sure that there's nothing else you need, and that you have enough in the way of towels."

A few minutes later, Quin rapped on the half-open door. He held out some folded pyjamas. "They're big, but more to Transfigure, I suppose," he said with a grin. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Thank you, Quin. But everything is fine. I appreciate this."

"You're welcome – I'm sorry I can't Apparate you, but I have had a bit too much myself. I would hate to have to explain to your Headmaster why I Splinched his new Head of Gryffindor "

Minerva laughed. When he had left after wishing her sweet dreams, she drew her wand, paused a moment to gather herself together, and Transfigured the pyjamas into a nightgown. Casting spells while tipsy was not something she enjoyed doing. It took far too much concentration to do what she normally did with little effort. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, climbed into bed, and was asleep before she knew it.