CXIV: His Lady’s Servant

CXIV: His Lady's Servant

Minerva woke in the morning, somewhat confused about where she was. When she remembered, she hopped out of bed and washed and dressed quickly, putting her hair up in a quick, loose bun. Casting a Tempus, she saw that it was only quarter past six. Tuesday the thirteenth. The ides of August, Minerva thought, smiling as she remembered Hagrid's new puppy. The ides of August should not be fraught with danger and doom. She didn't know when Quin normally rose, but she didn't feel comfortable poking around in his kitchen, or anywhere in the house, for that matter, if he wasn't up yet, so she simply opened her door a crack so that when he got up, he would see that she was up, as well.

Kicking off her shoes again, she pulled the covers of the bed up, then lay down on top of them. She had had a nice evening with Quin, and she was feeling reassured. Albus could very well just be trying, in his own way, to show her he cared about her and wanted to spend time with her, but without placing any pressure on her or risking rejection. That was a much nicer interpretation of his belated invitation to dinner than the ones that she had considered. Or, as Quin had said before, he could simply be confused by his feelings. Minerva smiled. Perhaps Albus was coming to see her as a potential . . . something. Lover? What terms would he use? Girlfriend? No, that didn't sound right. Paramour? No, that would sound as though they were having an illicit affair. Mistress? Equally bad. Possibly even worse connotations. What would he think of himself in relation to her? Her suitor, perhaps? But that sounded staid and too chaste. But he was from a different era than she . . . she wanted him to be her lover, possibly more, but for now, she couldn't imagine wanting more, or what that more could be. Marriage eventually. That is what people did when they fell in love . . . somehow, though, that seemed an even more impossible thought than that Albus might be coming to be attracted to her, and her entire fantasy seemed to crumble as she considered it. As she felt her tension and unhappiness returning, she thought again of Quin's words, his advice to love Albus and let him love her, and that eased her mind. Put that way, it seemed possible, and not absurd at all.

She was just coming to that conclusion when she heard steps in the hallway, then Quin rapped on the door.

"Minerva?"

"I'm here, Quin," she answered, rising from the bed.

He opened the door and greeted her with a smile. "Ready for breakfast? I am sorry I have t' leave so early in the morning, but you know what they say about early birds, worms, and all that."

"That's fine. I need to get back to the school, anyway." She looked at him as they walked down the hall. "Wizarding business today, I see."

Quin was dressed in dark blue robes of a conservative cut, though they had clearly been tailored for him, and he wore a starched white shirt beneath.

"Indeed. In fact, a visit to the Ministry." He quirked a smile. "Perhaps I will even see our friend Franky and I can ask him how his engagement is treating him."

Minerva smiled. "I actually feel sorry for him."

"He's a grown wizard," Quin responded, little sympathy for the man.

Quin made Minerva tea and himself coffee, then set about doing a quick fry-up for them both. This time, he put a long flowered pinny on over his robes, completely unself-consciously, and Minerva smiled to watch him work.

"This should hold you for a while, love," he said as he served her. "More tea?"

Minerva enjoyed her breakfast with Quin, but was feeling increasingly anxious to leave, and so was pleased when Quin suggested that it was time to go.

"You can Floo with me to the Ministry, then Apparate from there, if you like. Unless you know of somewhere in Hogsmeade with an open Floo connection at this hour."

Shortly thereafter, Minerva found herself in the familiar atrium at the Ministry and felt a distinct sense of relief that she no longer worked there. It had been fine at the time, but she could not imagine returning to it. The morning influx of Ministry workers hadn't yet begun, and Quin walked her to the designated Disapparition point, their footsteps echoing in the near-empty hall.

"Safe home, Minerva," he said to her softly. "I enjoyed our evening, and our breakfast."

"Thank you, Quin. It was very nice, and I really appreciated your cooking and your company."

"See you sometime again soon, then, and let me know how things are at Hogwarts," Quin said. Minerva nodded, and he leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly. He looked into her eyes. "You have faith in yourself, Minerva. You are a fine witch, and I do not believe your wizard to be a fool." He touched her cheek gently then shook his head. "You will always be safe with me, Minerva, as I said, but . . . ."

Quin stepped back and nodded to her, then turned and walked rapidly away towards the golden gates, leaving Minerva somewhat confused, but she focussed on the Hogwarts gates and Disapparated, arriving a scant moment later at her destination. She smiled involuntarily. Home. She was home. Home was where the heart was, and her heart was with Albus, whether he was aware of it or not.

Minerva opened the gates and walked rapidly up to the castle, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. The doors were still bolted, so she used the summer password to gain entry, then trotted up the stairs to the first floor, paused and considered using her office Floo, then decided against that and continued up the next six flights. As she walked down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower and her rooms, she heard someone else in one of the narrow hallways off the main corridor, and as she reached her rooms, she saw Albus coming toward her from the other side of the castle.

"Good morning, Albus!" she greeted him cheerily. He was wearing conservative robes of taupe and mauve with pewter trim, but at least he wasn't wearing the ugly grey ones she had seen him in before her holiday. It was good to be back at Hogwarts with Albus again.

"Professor McGonagall," Albus said evenly, nodding. His eyes moved over her. "Just getting in," he observed.

Minerva smiled. "Yes, you see, it was – "

"I was unaware when you left yesterday that you would be away from the castle overnight," he said stiffly. "In the future, when it is anticipated that you be in the castle, it would be appreciated if you would give notice that you will not be. Your holiday is yours to spend as you wish, but if you are expected here, it is a matter of protocol to inform us so that we are aware of your absence."

Minerva felt the wind go out of her. "I just . . . it was late . . . I hadn't planned – " she began, trying to explain.

"You should make your plans better in the future, then, Professor," he said coolly.

"Of course. And if you would be so kind as to inform me as to how I might relay such a message at one o'clock in the morning in the event that I am again so derelict in planning, I would appreciate it, Professor Dumbledore." Her jaw muscles hurt from clenching her teeth. She spoke evenly, attempting to match his cool tone, but her injured feelings close to the surface. "And I do understand that as a member of the staff, I am under an obligation to inform you of my general whereabouts, or at least of my absence from the castle, when I am on holiday, so that I may be reached in an emergency, and you, as Headmaster, are under no reciprocal obligation to me, a mere member of staff. However, I would have thought that as an adult witch, how and where I pass my free time would be my concern and no one else's. I can assure you that my parents, knowing that I was in London visiting a friend, would not address me in this way the next morning upon my return home. It is not as though I went missing and no one had a clue where I was. When you left on your holiday, on the other hand, I was completely unaware of it until I returned to the castle myself, and then upon your return, you scarcely shared anything with me about your time away. But, as I say, you are the Headmaster, and I, a mere member of your staff. And foolish witch that I am, I believed our friendship was the more important factor in our relationship. Now I see that I was incorrect, and I apologise for my misapprehension, Professor. Please assume in the future that when I leave the castle during the summer, I will not be returning until I am required. If I happen to return beforetime, then that shall be a pleasant surprise for everyone. And I apologise if I overstepped the limits of our friendship yesterday when I suggested that you might share your present thoughts, feelings, and concerns with me. I see that it is not my place to expect or even to desire such a thing of you. Now, you did have Hogwarts business to discuss with me. If you would care to discuss it now, Professor?" Minerva's heart hammered in her chest, and she could scarcely keep herself calm enough to speak, but she was not about to let her hurt and her anger get the better of her, not in front of Albus.

Albus's expression had scarcely changed, though he did seem slightly taken aback by Minerva's words. "It was not particularly important," he said quietly. "I had simply wished . . . ." He shook his head slightly, and continued more firmly, "I am going to ask your brother Malcolm to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. I had thought to ask you if it would discomfit you if I were to do so, and were he found an acceptable candidate, if he were then hired."

"You are the Headmaster. You may do as you see fit. But I do suggest, although it is not my place to do so, that you consult your Deputy Headmistress in the matter. She may have some . . . thoughts on it." She was virtually holding her breath in her effort to remain calm. "If that is all?"

Albus nodded. "Yes – "

Minerva turned toward the Silent Knight, but as she was about to utter the password, the Knight bowed to her and the door clicked open. She pulled it open.

"Good day to you, Professor," she said, not turning back to him.

"Good day." He hesitated. "Minerva, I – "

Minerva shook her head. "I have things to do. If you have no other Hogwarts business to discuss with me, sir, I would like to get to on with my day."

"Of course. Excuse me."

Minerva nodded without looking at him, and stepped into her sitting room, closing her door behind her. As soon as the door was shut, her composure completely crumbled, and tears rolled down her face. She slid to the floor, her back to the door, and wept.

To her annoyance, the Silent Knight creaked into the sitting room. "Oh, just tell whoever it is to go away," she said.

"There is no one else, my lady," the Knight said gently. "It is only I, your servant, who calls on you. Fidelio guards your door. I have come to beg that I may assist you in your hour of need. Tell me how I may serve!"

Minerva laughed through her tears. A painting come to comfort her! How utterly absurd and pathetic. "There is nothing. But I do thank you." She sniffed. Despite how pathetic it was, she did appreciate the Knight's presence and apparent concern. "I just want to be alone and undisturbed right now."

"Very well, my lady." He bowed. "I shall endeavour to serve!"

After the Knight left, Minerva stood. She should change her clothes at least. As she walked into her bedroom, she pulled off her earrings. She put her jewellery away mechanically, then stripped off her robes and put them in the laundry. She considered a shower, but remembering her foolish fantasy from the day before, she decided against one. She should dress, she thought, but instead, she padded out to her sitting room in her chemise and knickers and picked up the afghan. Holding it to her, tears rose in her eyes once more.

Nothing was working out. Just as she would begin to feel as though there was some hope that Albus might care for her, that they might be becoming more than friends, she would learn that Albus saw her as something else, something less, scarcely even a staff member, more like a child, a "good girl." Today, a good girl who had been naughty and stayed out past curfew. Minerva could not imagine that Albus would ever speak to Johannes that way, nor to Gertrude, nor to anyone else on staff, for that matter. During the summer, Hagrid would go off drinking in Hogsmeade and not return to the grounds until the early hours of the morning then sleep past noon. But the rules were different for her. She was just a little errant Gryffindor student again, out past curfew. He hadn't even allowed her to explain. Not that she should have had to, though she would have been perfectly happy to tell him if he had let her. And there was little to explain. It had been late and getting back to the school at that hour would have been more than just inconvenient. He would have done the same in her position, she was certain.

If it weren't that Melina and Brennan deserved their privacy this early in their relationship, she would just leave that day and go stay at Melina's until she was required to be back the week before school started. But despite what Melina had said about her always being welcome there, Minerva didn't want to intrude at that time. And she certainly didn't want to go stay with her parents. She didn't want to be around anyone just then . . . she could just take a real holiday. Go away for a few days. Take a room in a hotel somewhere.

Minerva sat down on the sofa. She didn't want to go anywhere. She wanted to be here, but she wanted things to be different. She wanted them to be the way they had been before Pretnick had died, or before she had left on holiday. She wanted to be with the Albus who held her hand as they walked through the garden. But she had taken his hand; he had not taken hers. But he had treated her very romantically that evening in Edinburgh, and he had been very sweet at many times since then. She lay down, covering herself with the afghan, and closed her eyes, remembering his expression as he placed the rose in her hair, saying he would be her mirror, telling her she was beautiful.

Minerva sighed. There was something about Albus that she did not understand. She wanted to understand it. Perhaps he had only been concerned, worried about her, and had just expressed himself poorly. But he had been so . . . cold to her. Minerva pushed the afghan aside and went into her bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and knelt to pull out the wooden box with his correspondence in it. She brought the box back into the sitting room, wrapped the afghan around her, then opened it.

Beginning with the earliest ones, mere notes, she started looking through them, even finding an old pass he had written for her one evening when she was out after curfew her fifth year. She had read second-year parchments for him, she remembered. Albus had been so exhausted that night, and so near tears. He had appreciated her help then, though. And last month, when he had her for dinner in his suite, he had had Wilspy serve the same meal they had that night, the one she had ordered for him.

Slowly, she read through the notes from her time as a student, and then started reading the letters he had written her after she had left school and begun work at the Ministry. Her head ached, though, so finally, she called Blampa and asked for a Headache Potion. After she took it, she put the letters she had read back into the box and placed the others on the table in front of the couch. It was almost lunchtime, but she really wasn't hungry, so she cast a few cooling charms, wrapped herself in her afghan, invoked the charm, and lay down on the sofa for a nap.

Albus sat at the desk in his study, fiddling with his plumy purple quill. The quill that Minerva had given him. He could see the reason in everything that she had said. And he never would have dreamed of admonishing another staff member if they were out overnight during the summer, not unless there had been some good reason why they should have returned and had been expected to do so. At the very most, he would have asked them where they had been. No, it had been jealousy, of all things. He wasn't prone to jealousy. Even as a youngster, he had simply seen the accomplishments of others and striven to accomplish more, himself. And to be jealous like this . . . it was unhealthy. It was possessive and controlling. And even worse, he had no call to be jealous, absolutely none. He was her friend and her employer. Quin was . . . Albus didn't want to think about what Quin was. But he couldn't help it. The young man had sat right there and told him that he had no romantic interest in Minerva, and that Minerva had none in him. And Minerva had repeated the same to him; even yesterday, she had claimed that it wasn't a date. Yet she was Apparating. She had to have visited his home before in order to do that. And then last night . . . last night he had played Go with Johannes until almost eleven o'clock, when finally, distracted, he found himself completely surrounded, and Johannes had won. It had made Johannes quite happy, since he lost three or four games to every one that he managed to win. He had said good-night to Johannes, but he still hadn't readied himself for bed, remembering how Minerva had come to see him after her date with Filius, and again after she had dinner with Quin in Hogsmeade.

Finally, at midnight, he went down to his office and opened the cupboard in which he kept his Charmed parchments. He rarely used them, and he hesitated to now. It would be prying . . . it would be for his own personal gain, not for school business. But he cast the necessary spells, and the results were clear and easy to read, there were so few people in the castle. Johannes was in his bedroom in Ravenclaw Tower. Gertrude and Malcolm . . . were both together. In her rooms. In her bedroom, in fact. Well, that answered one question that he hadn't wished to ask. Johannes's name was steady, but Gertrude's and Malcolm's names seemed to pulse, becoming thicker and bolder, then returning to the normal script. He could imagine what that might mean, and he averted his eyes. But Minerva's name was not on the list. There was Fawkes listed. For some reason, he was perched in the Astronomy Tower. But no other being or creature was named. Albus still hadn't set the wards properly to detect the ghosts. It had been a low priority, and he had never managed to get to it.

He ended the spells, put the Charmed parchments back in the cupboard, and returned to his rooms. It was after midnight. If Minerva hadn't returned yet, she would have to Floo through to the Hog's Head. Alone. He should leave word with Aberforth to watch for her. He started back down to his office, but then changed his mind. Aberforth would find it unusual. And he had no idea whether she would Floo back; she might Apparate directly to the gates. Or she might Floo to her parents' house and not return to the school at all. Albus sighed and went to bed. But lying there in bed, he admitted that he believed that Minerva had stayed in London, with Quin. And that they were likely engaged in the same activities that he presumed Gertrude and Malcolm were.

Gertrude had suggested to him that he consider Malcolm for the position of Defence instructor, and it seemed a very good idea to him, but she didn't want to approach him about it herself. She hadn't said why, but now he assumed that it must have something to do with their relationship. Until he knew more about the relationship, though, he couldn't speculate about what that reason might be. Albus assumed that Gertrude would tell him about the relationship at some point. He hadn't even been aware that she had returned to the castle, nor that Malcolm had returned with her. But she was the Deputy Headmistress, and a teacher of almost twenty years. If she wished to have an overnight guest during the summer, that was certainly her privilege. And it wasn't as though Malcolm were a stranger, and he had been present earlier in the day. It was hardly surprising that he would return with her. It was somewhat surprising to Albus, however, that their relationship had evidently progressed to the point it had as quickly as it did. But if she was happy, and if Malcolm was good to her, then he was happy for her. She had been alone a long time and had had too much sadness in her life and spent too much of her life looking after others, often at a cost to herself. It was time for her to have some happiness, some joy just for herself.

Albus woke early after an unrestful sleep. Wilspy still wasn't back, so he made do without his first morning cup of tea before his shower, and waited until he was dressed to call Hwouly and request his breakfast. He ate little of it, though, preoccupied with thoughts of Minerva. He couldn't understand why she would claim that she and Quin were not involved when they were. Minerva wasn't prone to lying. There was no reason for her to be coy about a relationship with Quin. Particularly not when he had praised the young wizard, told her he was a fine catch. But Gertrude hadn't said anything about Malcolm, either. He also hadn't asked, and Gertrude had never lied about it. If he were to ask Gertrude point-blank, Albus was certain that she would tell him the truth. He wouldn't ask her such a thing, of course. It was none of his business. Neither of them were married. Malcolm was a decent wizard, if unconventional in his ways. As long as she didn't carry on obviously once the students had returned, there was nothing that he would have to say against it. Gertrude was his friend, though, and Albus was sure that when she felt the time was right, she would tell him about the relationship.

Albus went down to his office after banishing his breakfast, and Fawkes joined him briefly. Albus gave the large bird some seed clusters and dried fruit snacks, and Fawkes let forth a merry, cheering song before vanishing in a flash. Albus's mood brightened some, then he went to the window and let in two early Post Owls, one delivering his Daily Prophet, the other with that Friday's Wizengamot schedule. It didn't appear there was anything on the docket that he would need to be present for, although he did like to attend as many sessions as possible, and always any in which the issue was a serious one. He jotted a quick note to the Wizengamot's secretary saying that he would not be in attendance, but that if any serious issues arose unexpectedly, to please inform him.

With Wilspy absent, and having already sent the Post Owls on their way, Albus took his backstairs down to the seventh floor, pausing briefly to consider whether he should look in on Minerva, but deciding against it and proceeding to the Owlery. He chose a large Tawny Owl to carry his note into London, and as he gave it a final stroke to the back of its neck and let it loose, Albus looked out across the grounds. Minerva was just entering the grounds and walking up the drive to the castle. He couldn't see her well from that height, but he believed that she was dressed as she had been the previous afternoon.

Albus grimaced involuntarily, and it felt as though it was suddenly difficult to breathe. So she had spent the night with him. He should be happy that she was entering a new relationship and a new phase of her life, but he couldn't muster any positive feelings at all. He felt as though Minerva had lied to him when she had said there was nothing between the two. Albus reminded himself that just because she hadn't returned the night before didn't mean that she had spent the night in London with Quin. Perhaps she had gone on somewhere else afterward, to her niece's, or to another friend's in the city. And even if she had spent the night at MacAirt's, it didn't necessarily mean that the two had spent the night together. The man did have children, after all. Though he had said something about them being in Ireland when he had been there the day after the warding.

Albus tried to get hold of himself. There was no point in being jealous, and it certainly wasn't healthy. He was happy that Minerva had a life and friendships outside of the school, he told himself. He had encouraged her, in fact. No, he wasn't jealous. He certainly had no right to be jealous. But nonetheless, Minerva's behaviour was not what he would expect of a member of Hogwarts staff. Spending the night with the father of one of her students simply was not done. It set a bad example and it would reflect badly on the school if people gossiped about it. And she had not said that she would be gone overnight. Minerva was normally very responsible, but it was certainly irresponsible to be expected back at the castle and then be away all night. Something could have happened to her and no one would have known.

He made his way down out of the Owlery back to the seventh floor. Rather than heading toward his backstairs, however, Albus walked toward Gryffindor Tower. He had no clear plan in mind. He wanted to see Minerva, certainly, and ascertain that she was safe. And he would remind her of her duties toward the school.

And that was where he went very wrong, Albus recognised as he sat at there in his study. First, trying to pretend to himself that he was acting only as Hogwarts Headmaster, second, acting like a complete fool in saying what he had, and third, not allowing Minerva to explain when she had tried to. If he had only stopped before he had said what he had about informing him of her whereabouts. He had sounded like an overbearing father speaking to a teenage witch, not at all like a Headmaster speaking to a member of staff, let alone one friend speaking to another.

Now that Albus looked back on it, he remembered how happy she had seemed to be to see him, and how her expression had changed to one of stunned disbelief, and then to one of anger. Oh, she had controlled herself, but there was no doubt but that Minerva was angry with him. And with good reason. He was behaving like that doctor in the book by Stevenson he had read many years ago. The warm friend one day, and the stern, overbearing Headmaster the next. He smirked humourlessly to himself. One thing that he did not want was for Minerva to see him as a father-figure, and what did he do? Not only behave like one, but like a heavy-handed, controlling father, at that.

Albus put his head in his hands, remembering the wonderful afternoon they had spent walking in the garden just one week ago, and how even the previous day, she had been happy to see him returned to the castle, and how she had flushed with pleasure and smiled when he had said that a special person had been advising him to eat his veg. His emotions toward Minerva were causing him to do and say things that he never would have dreamed of doing or saying. And unfortunately, these were not positive things. But it was his own fault, not Minerva's. The poor witch must be wondering what on earth she had done to deserve such unexpectedly nasty treatment. And she had done nothing. He was punishing her for his own faults, and that was terribly wrong.

Opening the drawer that contained his photographs of Minerva, Albus remembered what he had dropped into it, somewhat negligently, a few weeks ago. After removing the three pictures, he rummaged around until he found the small object, which had slipped down to rest at the bottom of the drawer. He pulled it out and held it up by its dark cord. He wasn't superstitious, and certainly not about Muggle artifacts, but this . . . Gregor, Maria's oldest brother, had a naturally-occurring nazar, also set in a bit of mirrored glass, just as this one was. He had explained to Albus that the power of the artificial nazar was in the mind of the beholder and the heart of the one who wore it, but that those were mere shadows of the real nazar, the naturally-occurring nazar stones, inspired by them, but never having their power. Set within a mirror, Gregor had explained, the nazar had the power to avert the envy of others and the evil that can befall one who is envied, but more than that, the natural nazar stone could eliminate the evil of envy and jealousy in its bearer and, set in its mirror, could allow the person clear sight, a vision of others unclouded or tainted by the twisting power of the twins, envy and jealousy. It could keep at bay all manner of evil, Gregor said, but chiefly those two.

Albus held the nazar tightly in his hand, the setting biting slightly into his curled fingers. He did not believe in the nazar, natural or otherwise, and yet . . . He shook his head, clearing it, and looked at his photographs of Minerva, first of the one when she was a student, then of the one taken shortly after his defeat of Grindelwald, and then the one, in colour, taken after her Challenge. Seeing her turn toward him again, and how her smile had brightened when she saw him there, a lump rose in his throat. So much like the smile she had given him that morning in the hallway outside her rooms. And he had driven that smile away with his words. Albus swallowed past the lump and gazed a while longer at the photograph before returning it to its drawer. The nazar, he dropped into his pocket. He would carry it for the day, remind himself of his folly, and then he would find a better place for it than the bottom of a drawer. It may have no intrinsic power, he thought, but it was unusual, and a rare gift, especially from a stranger on the street.

Albus went downstairs to his office and spent the rest of the morning pushing parchments around on his desk, then he left for lunch a few minute early, hoping to see Minerva and tell her he was sorry. He didn't know what excuse he would give her, but perhaps simply begging her forgiveness would be sufficient. He certainly was not living up to his promises to her.

But Minerva did not arrive early to lunch; indeed, she did not arrive at all. Malcolm and Gertrude were in fine spirits, as was Hagrid, and Johannes, although he seemed somewhat quieter than usual, had attempted to draw him out after thanking him for the game of Go the night before. Albus was preoccupied and again ate little. As he left the staff room, he felt a hand at his elbow.

"Albus, were you going to speak to Malcolm?" Gertrude asked.

"Oh, yes, of course . . . ask him to come round to my office when he has finished eating, won't you?"

Gertrude looked at him curiously. "Is everything all right?"

He mustered a smile. "Everything is fine. Just fine, my dear."

Gertrude stepped away from the staff room and closed the door behind her.

"I planned to discuss this with you, in private, soon . . . and I can't go into it here," she said softly, looking around, "but the reason I'd prefer you to ask him about the job is that . . . you may have noticed that we've become friends. And, I hope, something more. So I think it's best that you bring it up to him. I'll speak with him about it, of course, afterwards, but it's better coming from you. I hope . . . that isn't what is bothering you, is it?"

"No, Gertie, and I am pleased for you if you are happy." He squeezed her arm. "You have always been very dear to me, you know that . . . and I may not have said it before, but I do love you, and I only want the very best for you. So if you are happy, I am happy."

A bright smile crossed Gertrude's face, a happier one than Albus was used to seeing on his friend. "Thank you! Thank you, I will tell him." She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then her happiness was so great that she put her arms around him in a fierce hug, somewhat surprising Albus.

Malcolm chose that moment to open the door to the staff room and step into the hall. He closed the door behind him.

"Ahem," he said, suppressing a grin as Gertie suddenly let go of Albus. "I am now available for embraces, no substitutes necessary!"

"We were just talking – " Gertrude began.

"I see that," Malcolm answered, humour dancing in his eyes. "Very interesting conversation it must have been, too!"

Gertrude smiled at him. "It was concerning you, actually. Albus wants to speak with you, don't you Albus?"

"Indeed, my boy, I most certainly do. If you would join me in my office shortly?" Albus asked.

"Of course, Professor." He grinned at Gertrude. "But I think that Tru and I have to have a conversation of our own first."

As Albus began to climb the stairs, he caught sight of Gertrude pulling Malcolm into the Great Hall, which was always deserted at this time of year. Forty-five minutes later, the charms on the gargoyle announced that someone had been admitted to the stairway. Although Albus hoped that it was Minerva, he was unsurprised when another McGonagall stepped into his office.

"Gertrude gave me the password to your gargoyle," he said simply.

"Yes, that's fine. Welcome. Please, have a seat," Albus invited. He really did not want to be having a conversation about the Defence job, but it was better than sitting there pretending to work and wondering whether Minerva would forgive him and whether she were well.

After hearing what the topic of conversation was to be, Malcolm laughed, and said that he had never considered any kind of permanent job before, let alone one at an institution such as Hogwarts, but he would hear what Albus had to say about it before dismissing the notion out of hand. By the end of the discussion, Malcolm agreed to consider applying for the job, saying that he would send a letter if he decided on it, but that he wished to speak with Minerva and Trudie about it first.

Albus had heard Malcolm refer to Gertrude as "Tru," and now as "Trudie," and it surprised him some.

"Just out of impertinent curiosity, my boy, did Gertrude invite you to call her 'Trudie'?" Albus asked.

"No, just started to. Suits her. She said she wasn't fussed by it, and I don't use it in general public, but you're not the general public, I'm thinking," Malcolm answered.

"Hmm. Interesting . . . I have only known one other person who used that form of her name. A few others may have attempted to use it, but they were informed that the appellation was unwelcome." In response to Malcolm's puzzled look and unspoken query, Albus added, "It was her late husband's pet name for her. I always liked it, myself, but never used it."

"Well, she seemed surprised when I first called her that, but she didn't hex me, and I asked and she said it was fine," Malcolm said. He grinned. "She is a surprising witch. She has certainly surprised me at a time in my life when surprises were becoming rather thin on the ground."

Albus hesitated, then said, "I shall give you a bit of unasked-for advice, if I may. If Gertrude is only a surprise to you, and nothing more . . . tell her that. And if you value her only for her novelty, think about what you may do when that novelty wears off."

"You two are close friends, then," Malcolm said. "I do believe that Gertrude and I have spoken of what is necessary. I appreciate your desire to look after her, as I assume that is how your advice is intended, but she can look after herself, and that is an important quality in her. And to the extent that she does need any looking after, or would simply benefit from it, I will do it, and you needn't worry yourself. But I do thank you for the advice, as unnecessary as it may have been."

"We have been friends for forty years. I don't think that I will ever stop wanting to look out for her interest, even when it is no longer necessary," Albus replied. "Thank you for not taking offence at my putting my oar in."

"Can't be offended when it's on the lady's behalf. She is lucky to have you as a friend." Malcolm stood, smiling, and offered his hand, which Albus shook. "I'll let you know if I decide I'd like to teach your kids not to get banged up."

"If you could let me know shortly, I would appreciate it. We do need to have someone in place on the first. I could stand in, of course, until we found a suitable candidate, but I had hoped not to have to teach and to be able to devote myself to my other work," Albus explained.

"Before the end of the week, then? Is that soon enough?"

"That would be fine. Thank you for considering it."

After Malcolm left, Albus quickly wrote a note to Minerva. As he had sat there talking about the school with Malcolm, another part of him had been preoccupied with Minerva.

"13 August 1957

"Albus"

He rolled the parchment and sealed it. The letter was a bit over the top, perhaps, but after what he had said to her that morning, he was not going to calculate and weigh every word, trying to appear more aloof than he felt.

Albus made his second trip to the Owlery that day. He was looking forward to Wilspy's return. It would be good to be able to have her owl his correspondence for him, or even deliver it, if it were within the castle.

Having written and sent his letter, Albus sat at his desk, feeling more composed than he had all day, and began to write a letter to a parent who was asking about the policy on personal broomsticks. His window was open, and an owl flew in and landed on the desk beside him. Albus recognised it as the little bird he had sent off with his apology and invitation. Minerva had replied quickly. But as Albus retrieved the letter from the owl, his heart sank. It was his own note, the seal not even broken. She had refused his letter. In his fog of disappointment, it didn't occur to him that this would be unlike Minerva, that she would, at the very least, open the note to see if it contained Hogwarts business even if she didn't care to hear from him personally. But at that moment, Albus simply castigated himself for believing that a note could substitute for an in-person apology.

He stood and began to pace. Should he go see her right then? If he did, he could issue his invitation to dinner in person. But she might see it as yet one more duty. He could simply apologise, and then see her manner toward him and decide at that point. Or perhaps it would be better if he were to wait to see her until she was no longer as upset with him. If she was still so distressed that she would refuse his owl, it might be best to wait, even though he felt like running to Gryffindor Tower that very moment and begging her forgiveness. Yes, better to wait. Perhaps he would be able to approach her after dinner . . . they could take a walk. He could explain that he had been out-of-sorts and that she had been completely correct in all that she had said. He could even have his letter with him and give it to her at that time.

Albus prepared to spend a tedious afternoon waiting for the dinner hour to arrive.

In Gryffindor Tower, Minerva stretched and yawned. Her headache had returned, and she felt peculiar from having slept too long in the middle of the day. She rose, folded the afghan, and went into her bedroom to retrieve her dressing gown. Returning to the sitting room, she cast a casual glance at the clock on the mantlepiece. Almost three-thirty already? No wonder she felt peculiar – and hungry. Minerva called for Blampa and asked her to bring her tea and sandwiches. She ate two sandwiches, drank her tea, then nibbled a ginger newt.

She felt somewhat better from having eaten, but her headache had only subsided and not completely left her. Another nap appealed to her, but she feared that it might make her feel worse and not better. Still, Minerva wanted to forget her troubles for a while, and decided to take a bath before doing anything else.

An hour later, warm and glowing from her long soak in the tub, during which she endeavoured not to think about Albus, which was very difficult with the tiles of the two of them staring her in the face, Minerva emerged from her bedroom wearing only her dressing gown. No point in dressing, she thought. There was no one there to see her. She had already decided that she wouldn't go to dinner. She had eaten a late lunch or early tea, after all, and, being honest with herself, she didn't particularly care to be confronted with Gertrude and Malcolm's happiness, Hagrid's attempts at being cheerful despite Wilhelmina's absence, and Johannes's effort to appear not to notice that Gertrude had a new wizard in her life. But most of all, she really did not want to see Albus. It was the first time in years that she could remember actually not wanting to see him. But Minerva didn't know which wizard would greet her, the one whom she loved, or the stranger who had spoken to her that morning.

Minerva had a vague feeling that she should apologise to Albus, but then she remembered what he had said and how he had behaved, and she realised that she had said nothing to him that wasn't true or justified. If he apologised to her, then she would tell him that she was sorry if she had caused him worry, or if she had somehow hurt his feelings, and admit that perhaps she ought to have phrased her response to him differently, but she wouldn't apologise for the content of her speech. She was getting very tired of fighting her feelings for Albus while simultaneously trying to divine his every mood and deal with his swings of temper. She had the sense that there was something about Albus that she simply didn't understand, but she didn't know what it could be, and she was too tired that afternoon to think about it any more.

Her study had a very broad windowsill, and her desk was positioned right beside it. She popped into her Animagus form and trotted into her study, jumped lightly up onto her desk, stepped over to the windowsill, and curled up in the late afternoon sun for a catnap.

At five o'clock, Albus changed his mind. He couldn't wait to see her at dinner and attempt to speak to her then. It would be more awkward than necessary. No, he would go to her rooms, apologise, and walk her to dinner. Or, if she seemed amenable, he could even suggest then that they dine alone, walk into Hogsmeade for an evening out.

Apprehensive, but determined, Albus reached Gryffindor Tower and approached the Silent Knight.

"Would you please let Professor McGonagall know that I wish to speak with her," he said, addressing the portrait.

To his immense surprise, Fidelio stood and growled at him, baring his teeth, and the Knight drew his sword.

"You shall not pass! I protect my lady!" the Knight cried, brandishing his sword.

"I am the Headmaster. I insist you inform the Professor that I am here to see her," Albus said, fingering his wand in his right-hand pocket.

"I shall not! You are a powerful warrior and a mighty magician, and alack! I am but a humble knight, servant to my mistress, trapped within this portrait, and possessing but little power and less freedom. I cannot stand against you, but I shall not let you pass. You may smite me, you may destroy me, and you will defeat me in the end, but you will not pass without first overcoming me. My life for my lady!" He lifted his shield for the first time, and Albus saw that it was broken, but there was a serval, rampant, emblazoned upon it. "Have at me!"

Taken aback, Albus stood and considered his options. He could use his Headmaster's password and enter – he had the sense that even were he to try Minerva's own password, the Knight would attempt to resist allowing him entry, and Albus did not know what the result of that would be. It seemed that Minerva must have given her portrait orders that he not be admitted, or even announced, and her bellicose guardian had interpreted it quite literally.

"I ask again that you announce me to your mistress," Albus said, hoping that another request, courteously made, would override whatever peculiar characteristic of this painting's charms that had driven it to interpret Minerva's request for privacy as a complete bar to visitors. There did seem to be something slightly wrong with the portrait. After he had dealt with more pressing issues with Minerva, he would ask her to realign the portrait network in Gryffindor Tower.

"Back, knave, or have at me! I have seen you toy with my mistress and I have seen your churlish behaviour! I will defend my lady's honour with my very life. I have pledged it. I shall not, I will not, allow you to pass. You must defeat me first!" The Knight raised his sword, and it gleamed in the sunlight, coming from who-knew-where. Fidelio bared his teeth, his short ears laid back upon his head, and he snarled menacingly. If the two were real, flesh-and-blood combatants, Albus would not have wanted to face them, not as a Muggle, at any rate.

He shook his head and turned away, perplexed and disappointed. He could hang about outside her door, he supposed, and wait for Minerva to emerge, but that would be undignified. Besides, he could hear the Knight's taunts and the hound's growls, and he didn't fancy listening to them until Minerva came out to go to dinner. Minerva must have given the Knight instructions to bar him specifically. He had deserved it, Albus supposed, sighing. He would simply have to wait and try to speak with her at dinner. Using his Headmaster's password might have peculiar consequences on the Knight, and although the portrait's behaviour was unusual, he did not want to damage it, particularly not in order to essentially break-and-enter into a staff member's rooms. If he believed Minerva were ill, that would be a different matter entirely.

Albus headed downstairs to the staff room to await dinner. He had no appetite, but he did want to see Minerva.

Dinner came and went, but Minerva did not appear. Albus scarcely ate. Finally, when dessert arrived and she still wasn't there, Albus turned and asked Malcolm if he had seen his sister that day.

"No, but I haven't looked for her, either. I thought perhaps she hadn't returned to the school yet, since she wasn't at lunch," Malcolm said. "She didn't say anything to me about her plans, but then, I didn't ask."

Albus didn't want to question each person at the table about whether they had seen Minerva, so he poured custard over his sponge and contented himself with pretending to eat it. But when Hagrid left the table, and Minerva still hadn't arrived, he knew that she was not coming, not even late. He pushed away from the table, acknowledged the others as they wished him a good evening, and went back to his office. He paced there for a while until the portraits' queries regarding whether they could assist him wore on his nerves, then he went up to his sitting room and paced. Fawkes appeared and crooned a bit and listened, apparently sympathetically, as Albus talked, going over again what he had and hadn't done correctly, and what he might do now, and whether any of it really mattered, or whether he was simply becoming the barmy old codger he had taken to calling himself, and whether he might truly be entering a decline into dotage.

Much to his displeasure, in the midst of his ramblings, Phineas Nigellus entered the small landscape over the fireplace in the sitting room.

"Your Deputy is downstairs with her . . . friend," he said, leaving immediately upon making the announcement.

"Lovely," Albus said unhappily, looking over at Fawkes. "Would you stay tonight, Fawkes? I'd like to see you here when I'm through with them."

Fawkes trilled lowly, and Albus smiled and stroked the bird's throat before leaving to see what Gertrude might want, trying not to wish that it had been Minerva come to see him, instead. But Minerva would have just come up, and not sent the portrait instead.

It turned out that Gertrude was going to be leaving the castle again and she wasn't sure when she would be back, though it would be only a few days, she thought, but as they would be travelling, she might not be easily reached, even by owl. Albus didn't even bother to ask where they were going. He thanked Gertrude for letting him know, reminded Malcolm that he needed his answer about the Defence position by the end of the week, and headed back up the stairs to his rooms as the two were still letting themselves out of the office.

Fawkes was, indeed, still there when Albus returned.

"Well, old friend, I suppose I should stop contemplating myself and my own foolish concerns. Perhaps if I were to do that, I would not continue to behave in such a way as to cause others pain and myself embarrassment," Albus said, stroking the phoenix's fiery red head. "You know, I believe that Gertrude may have found someone special for her. Isn't that a good thing? Yes, it is, I know it. And if I can be happy for her, as I am, then if Minerva has found someone special for herself, I can be happy for her, as well, can't I? Yes, of course I can. Although I don't know that she has. And that is my own fault. Ah, but it is, Fawkes! I should have allowed her to speak and I should have behaved as a friend. I do not know what it is that is keeping me from behaving sensibly with Minerva, but I have to do something about it. Yes, I do. And I can, too. Of all the things I have done in my life, that surely cannot be difficult. A good start would be to begin behaving as her friend. That really ought not be difficult. We are, after all, friends. Yes, I am glad you agree with me," Albus said, chuckling. "You know, it is most satisfying to talk to you, Fawkes, even when we aren't holding a real conversation. Everything seems to make complete sense when I speak to you. You know, I was out in my Animagus form last week, and you were not here to fly with. Where have you been keeping yourself, anyway? Well, you are at your peak now, I suppose you should enjoy it."

Fawkes trilled in response, and Albus smiled. He let out a deep sigh and said, "I suppose it would be wise to go to bed and to sleep now. I will surely be less prone to behaving like a . . . a . . . a 'knave,' as Minerva's door warden put it, if I have a good night's rest. I would be most pleased if you were here in the morning, Fawkes. I do believe that seeing you when I waken would do me as much good as a full night's sleep. Of course, seeing Minerva upon waking would be even better, but I'm sure you understand that."

Albus gave the phoenix one last gentle caress and took himself off to bed. As he fell asleep, Fawkes, perched on the head of the bed, sang him a soft, sweet lullaby.