CXXIV: Courting Minerva

PART NINETEEN

CXXIV: Courting Minerva

Minerva opened her eyes and her smile grew to one of pleasure and admiration. "It's beautiful, Albus, just beautiful!" She turned back to him and pulled him down into a kiss. "You really are wonderful."

"I'm glad you like it," he replied, blushing with pleasure.

He had conjured a cushioned seat for two and a small oval table covered with a colourful cloth, an oil lamp sparkling at its centre, and there were now several large, columnar candles, three or four feet high, set at intervals about the tower roof, each a different colour and each with flowers at its base. The crenellations were also draped with brightly coloured cloths. In the gathering twilight, the candles flickered against the multicoloured fabrics and lent a warmth to the cold stone of the tower. Minerva thought that no place could be more romantic at that moment.

Albus snapped his fingers, and Wilspy appeared, plates, bottles, carafes, cups, and glasses floating in her wake. She wished them both a good evening and a good night after settling everything on the table, then she winked away with a mild snick.

"I thought something simple, my dear, if that suits you," Albus said, leading her to the settee. "Vanilla ice cream, from Fortescue's, with blackberries and a blackberry cordial drizzled over it, and a bit of sponge cake. There's also coffee and cognac. Does that suit?" he asked, slightly worried that what had sounded perfect to him hours before as he made his plans was now totally inadequate for the vision of loveliness that now sat beside him, so wonderfully warm and close.

"It is absolutely perfect, Albus! Absolutely," she said, taking his hand and smiling at him, her eyes bright. "There could be nothing better. Thank you!" She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then said, "Thank you very much, Albus. You are always so thoughtful. I never know how I could possibly repay all of the wonderful things that you do for me."

Albus smiled warmly. "Your company is more than sufficient, my sweet Minerva. It is more than I could ever hope or wish for." He was so close to her. He could smell her hair and her skin, and he could not resist leaning closer and kissing her lips lightly, moving his own lips over hers very gently, then drawing back and whispering, "Now for dessert, yes, my love?"

Minerva looked into his eyes, seeming not to hear him at first, then she blinked and replied, "Yes, dessert . . . of course."

They ate and talked and kissed, rocking back in the glider and watching as the first stars began to appear overhead. Minerva remembered the glider that he had conjured when she was a student, but she did not mention it to him, remembering her conversation with Quin and how it might make Albus uncomfortable to think of that time when she was a student in his care. She tucked her feet up under her and rested her head on Albus's shoulder.

"You know, Albus, I was wondering whether you still have that other letter you wrote me, the one that never was delivered," she said.

Albus's eyebrows rose at the question, but he said, "Yes, I believe it is still in my study."

"Do you suppose . . . that is, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to read it. And keep it, if I may," she said.

His hesitation was barely perceptible, but he nodded. "Yes, we can retrieve it when we leave here tonight. But why?"

"I have all of your letters, Albus, all of them together. Knowing that there is that letter, too – it seems my collection is incomplete, that's all. And I would like to read it, in any case."

"All of my letters?" Albus asked, remembering the parchments he had seen Minerva gather and close into a small wooden chest, and wondering whether those were all his letters.

"Yes, well, all since I began to keep them, anyway. From before I even fell in love with you," she said. "You have always been important to me, Albus. I have loved you for a long time."

"Well, then, we must find that letter to add to your collection." He paused, thinking. "Were those the letters I saw in your sitting room that day that I came to apologise?"

Minerva nodded. "Yes. I was . . . remembering and trying to understand, so I took out my box and began reading them all from the very first ones."

"What are the first ones you have?" Albus asked, thinking they were probably ones he had written when she had begun working at the Ministry after leaving Hogwarts, or perhaps the ones he had sent when she was so far away during her apprenticeships.

Minerva squirmed slightly, then she said, "The first ones aren't really even letters . . . I started keeping them before my feelings for you developed as they did, you understand."

Albus knit his brow. Not letters? "Yes, I understand, you said that."

"I have some notes you wrote me during my fifth year when I was working late, in case I met a teacher or a prefect on my way back to Gryffindor Tower," she said, "and, of course, I have the letters you wrote me before I began my Animagus training. That sort of thing."

"You kept the passes I wrote for you?" Albus asked, unable to hide his surprise.

Minerva was glad it was getting dark and he could not see her blush. "Not intentionally, not at first, anyway. I just put them in my Transfiguration textbook. And once I had kept one, well, I just began keeping the others, as well."

Albus kissed her forehead. "Sometime, I would like to look at some of those letters – if you don't mind. I realise it's a personal collection –"

"Yes, of your letters. Of course you may, if you like," Minerva said. "Sometimes, when I was missing you, I would take them out and read them. Or not read them, just touch them and remember . . . it probably sounds silly to you."

"Not at all. And I know that there were times when I was not very good about maintaining contact with you, when I didn't make the time to see you even when I was in London. I am sorry, my dear," Albus said with genuine regret, thinking particularly of a period during which a very selfish witch had taken whatever free time he had when he was in London for the day.

Minerva shook her head. "I understand. You do have your own life, then and now. And actually . . ."

"Yes?"

Minerva hesitated. "It's just that I found myself pulling them out more often after I began teaching here. You were so close, and I saw you frequently, but it felt as though you were very far away from me."

"Ah, Minerva . . . I hope you have forgiven this old wizard his faults and his blindness."

"Of course I have! That is why I was hesitant to mention it. I didn't want you to feel badly about it," Minerva said. "And please, I do hope you are not about to begin calling yourself an old codger again."

Albus chuckled. "No, I won't, my dear. However, speaking of letters, I have one that I think would interest you to read. I have it with me, but you are lying on top of the pocket it's in."

Minerva reluctantly shifted so that he could reach into his pocket and pull out the folded parchment. He handed it to her, then waved his hand and the candles nearest them burned more brightly so that she could see to read.

At the top of the page was a seal that Minerva didn't recognise. Properly speaking, it didn't even seem like a traditional wizarding seal, but it was an interesting symbol, nonetheless. There was a flame that actually flickered in red and gold, an olive branch superimposed over the flame, but unconsumed, and both seemed framed by the open maw of some beast, its tongue hanging out beneath the flame and its fangs, top and bottom, framing the flame on either side. Most peculiar, she thought, and somewhat unsettling. Threatening, with the fire and the fangs, and yet the olive branch was a traditional symbol of peace. Then she saw the handwriting. Of course. She should only expect something peculiar, she supposed.

"Aberdeen

"Malcolm Mercury McGonagall"

By the end of the letter, Minerva didn't know whether to laugh or to be utterly mortified that she was related to this bizarre person.

"Erm, so this was his letter of application, then," Minerva said hesitantly, wondering whether Albus found it completely bizarre, too.

Albus chuckled. "Apparently so. I did tell him I needed a letter of application from him. This is what he submitted."

"It's even more bizarre than the one from Clarissa Quaffenbush for the Magical Creatures position, although at least he appears qualified. He didn't say very much about spell-work, though, aside from his mention of curse-breaking and the capture of Grindelwald's wizards. I am sure he is quite adept, but –"

Albus laughed again. "I am certain he is, as well. However, I do intend to have . . . an extended interview with him, if I may put it that way. I did the same with Robert before hiring him."

"What do you mean by an 'extended interview,' Albus?" Minerva asked, suspicious of his tone of voice.

"I think a little demonstration of his talents is in order."

"A demonstration?" Minerva asked.

"Yes, a few obstacles for him to overcome, a little friendly duel, that sort of thing," Albus answered.

"A duel?" Minerva said, sitting up straight. "With Malcolm? Are you out of your mind, Albus?"

"Possibly. But I think this could be quite fun, and instructive, as well," Albus said with a grin.

"But a duel –"

"A friendly one, Minerva. Honestly, I have no intention of maiming or otherwise injuring your brother."

"And what about you?"

Albus just chuckled again. "I am sure I will be fine. There will be rules, you know, Minerva. This is something quite different from an honour duel. In fact, Filius can referee." Albus nodded to himself, pleased with that notion. "Yes, he can tally points and call out any fouls. Yes, that would work quite well."

Minerva shook her head. "I do hope you will both be careful, Albus."

"Of course, my dear," he said, patting her hand. "As careful as one can be during something like this, anyway. And as I said, there are certain rules, though I think that I will go over the standard sporting rules and make a few special changes in this instance."

"Oh, Albus . . . what is it with wizards and duelling? But, of course, it is a test of competence, I suppose. And in real life, a Dark Wizard or a dangerous creature is not going to sit down and discuss the rules to be followed." Minerva sighed, resigned. "It is an odd letter of application, though, don't you think?"

"It is idiosyncratic, to be sure," Albus said, his eyes twinkling, "and I imagine that your brother's teaching methods would be equally idiosyncratic. He will be a breath of fresh air at Hogwarts. It will also allow him and Gertrude to be closer, at least for this year."

"So you are fairly sure you will hire him, then?" Minerva asked.

"Yes, almost certain. Of course, if his practical skills fall short . . ."

"You have more experience and knowledge than he does, not to mention raw magical power. Surely you will take that into account," Minerva said apprehensively.

"Don't you worry, my dear. Let's talk about something different for a while, hmm?" Albus suggested.

"As long as we're discussing our correspondence, I will mention that I received a letter from my parents this afternoon. I was going to wait to say anything to you, but there seems little point in that." Minerva could feel Albus stiffen next to her.

"It was in response to your letter?" Albus asked, a slight strain sounding in his voice.

"Yes. They have invited us for dinner. For Wednesday. They would like us to come out in the afternoon, actually, and stay through the evening."

"Really . . . Wednesday . . . I am not sure –"

"I think we should go, Albus. I don't doubt that you are nervous about it, but waiting will only make it harder for you, and you will see them Friday at the wedding, anyway. It will only be the two of them and us, no one else. Mother was quite clear about that. I am sure it's all right, really, Albus."

Albus could feel a tightness in his chest and he realised he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly. He had had dinner at the McGonagall home before. He liked both Merwyn and Egeria. Egeria was very kindly taking care of Thea, at no charge, despite the amount of time she was spending. And he was . . . taking their daughter. He had promised them long ago that he would take care of her for them; he doubted that this was what they had in mind. But that was long ago. Minerva was no longer a child, though she was still their daughter. Minerva had said that they had suspected her feelings for him for a long time and yet they had still invited him into their home, they had spoken well of him to her.

Albus nodded. "All right," he said. "Wednesday. I will make sure that there is someone to stay and look after the castle – perhaps Gertrude will do that, or Johannes. Tell them that I am pleased to accept their invitation."

"Thank you, Albus!" Minerva said happily, putting her arms around him and kissing his cheek.

Albus smiled. "I am happy to be able to please you, my dear."

"You do, very much, and in more than just that," Minerva said, running her hand over his chest. She sighed and lay her head on his shoulder. "I love being close to you like this, and having you hold me . . . and kiss me," she said more softly. "And I very much enjoyed your demonstration yesterday of the scandalous kiss the Headmaster might give the Head of Gryffindor House if he didn't exercise restraint during the Sorting Ceremony."

"You did, did you?" Albus asked in a low voice. He could feel a new tightness in his chest, and elsewhere, and it was not unpleasurable.

"Mmhm, very much. I particularly enjoyed the accompanying caresses," she whispered. "They left me wanting more."

Albus swallowed. "I . . . I am very glad of that, Minerva."

Minerva was quiet, running her fingers gently through his beard, then she said, "There is something that bothers you, Albus, something that you haven't talked to me about. But you did imply that you thought I might not like you to touch me. You seem to think that I might pull away from your touch. Albus, I welcome your loving touch. I welcome it and desire it."

"I know. You have said that, but still . . ." Albus shifted uncomfortably, and Minerva moved, maintaining her contact with him, but looking up at him.

"What is it, my darling Albus?" she asked softly, touching his cheek with her fingertips. "What do you fear, and why? You know and believe that I love you. You see how much I love to snuggle close to you, to kiss you, to touch you. What is it, then?"

Albus shook his head. He felt foolish. There was a part of him that recognised his trouble lay not in his decrepitude, his aged body, or his withered touch, but lay rather in his fears themselves, and that they were irrational. But he could not verbalise any of that, though he normally was not at a loss for words. This was too difficult, too embarrassing, even to speak of with Minerva. Especially to speak of with her.

"Please share it with me, Albus, whatever it is. If you trust me . . . can you trust me?" She looked up at him, but Albus avoided her eyes. "You have said that you believe that I need a vital wizard, as though you were not such a one. You are, Albus. You are more vital and more alive than any other wizard of my acquaintance."

"I am no longer young," Albus said softly. "And I know you do not believe it matters, but it does."

"I do not believe that I have said that, precisely," Minerva said. "But only that it is not an impediment, it should not be an impediment, to our being together. There are differences between us, and you will always be older than I, and always stronger, wiser, more respected. And some of that is because of your age, but some of it is simply because of who you are. We did grow up in different worlds, but in some sense, that is true of many of us. You have often pointed to Quin as a model of a good catch. But surely there are more differences between Quin and me than between you and me. His upbringing, his family traditions, his entire life are all so different from my own. And yet we are friends, and he had a wonderful marriage with Aileen, who was far more like me than she was like Quin, no doubt, simply by virtue of having attended Hogwarts."

Albus could feel Minerva examining his face for a reaction as she spoke. He did not know what to say. What she said was true, but it didn't go to the heart of the matter. As he thought of what the true problem was, Albus could again hear Valerianna's voice ringing in his head, almost as though she were physically present. His lips were withered, and his touch turned her cold; he could not satisfy any witch, and his attempts were pathetic. He made her ill. And no witch would want his ancient penis in her when she could have a young, strong, virile wizard. Albus shuddered involuntarily.

"What is it, Albus?" Minerva asked softly. "Please tell me. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Truly."

Albus shook his head, not denying her, but simply at a loss for words. He wanted to talk to her; he didn't want this to come between them. His inadequacies . . . his fears . . . his ill-considered relationship with Valerianna . . .

Minerva sat back and took his hands in hers. "I love you, Albus, and nothing you can say to me will change that. Surely you trust in that." She raised one of his hands to her mouth and kissed it, then let them go. "Perhaps . . . perhaps it would be easier like this?" she asked, drawing her wand. She waved it and dimmed the candles and the lamp, their glow still warm and welcoming, but not as bright.

Albus shrugged. It might be easier if he weren't sitting so close to her. He shifted in his seat. Minerva was silent, waiting patiently and calmly. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I believe you are aware that I, um, for a while I escorted Valerianna Yaxley to various functions. And I, um, well, I suppose you might say that I attempted to court her." Albus could feel his cheeks grow warm. This was far worse than admitting to Minerva all of the follies of his youth. But Minerva only nodded at him, and he continued, "I knew her husband, you see. He was a good man, a fine wizard. It was partially my fault that he died. Over the years, I saw Valerianna occasionally, usually at Ministry events."

Albus shifted in his seat again, then he stood. He stepped over to the wall a few feet away and looked out over the Hogwarts grounds.

"I did not know her well, but she was bright, that much was clear. And she seemed . . . interested in me." Albus cleared his throat again. "She joined the Board of Governors. Shortly thereafter . . . we had both been invited to a dinner party thrown by the Minister for Magic. I was inclined to send my regrets, but I hadn't yet when she suggested that we go together. She made it sound . . . fun. After that, I began to escort her to various functions, then to bring her to dinner and on other outings. I do not know why, precisely, except that . . . I was used to being alone, and being with her was something different. I tried to please her." Albus sighed. "Perhaps it was entirely wrong of me to have done that, unfair to her, I do not know." He sensed Minerva moving on the glider behind him, but she said nothing, and he continued. "But although I tried, I found it difficult to warm up to her, and I felt that she was not warming to me. I persisted, though, and this despite dear Gertrude's warning that Valerianna was interested in me only for my position and my potential."

Albus stopped, unable to continue. What could he say now? How could he tell Minerva how terribly foolish he had been, and how hurt, how angry, and how unfairly he had treated Gertrude? That was, perhaps, the greatest disgrace of the entire affair, how he had turned from Gertrude, causing her pain, despite all of their years of friendship.

"I have met Valerianna," Minerva's voice came softly in the dark behind him. "She is quite an elegant witch, but manipulative. I understand that she can be very charming, although I personally saw no evidence of that charm. I saw only her nastiness. But I can understand how you might find it enjoyable to escort an elegant witch, and how she might have turned out to be something other than you had hoped. You are a very generous-hearted wizard. It would be like you to give her the benefit of the doubt, to want to believe the best of her."

Albus nodded. "Yes, I did. But also . . . this shames me, Minerva, but I did not believe Gertrude because I imputed selfish motives to her. And I was very, very wrong." Albus sighed. There would be some other time to tell Minerva about Gertrude. "Valerianna . . . we were to meet one evening at my cottage, at my home. I had given her leave to come and go as she pleased. I had wards, of course, but they were not meant to do anything more than deter casual thieves and snoops, and the few I had, I set to recognise her. I arrived early, anticipating a romantic weekend and a time to improve our relationship. I discovered that Valerianna had arrived before me, and she had brought someone with her." Albus's voice dropped. "I walked into my bedroom, my own bedroom, to find her with a wizard. A young man whom I had taught not many years before. He fled, quite sensibly. But Valerianna, she who had seemed so shy, so demure, so modest, too modest to allow me anything beyond certain liberties, she had been . . . with that wizard in my bed. And she told me precisely why." Albus's eyes were closed. He tried to pretend that he was unaffected by what he was saying. But he could hear her voice in his head. "I am old," Albus said in a monotone. "My touch is disgusting. It made her ill. My withered lips were scarcely to be borne, and the thought of them on her body sickened her. I am a pathetic, dried-up wizard. A vital, passionate witch needs a young, passionate lover. I could not satisfy her or any other witch. Intimacy with my body was revolting even in thought. No witch wants a pathetic, disgusting, aged wizard; no witch wants me to touch her," he ended in a whisper.

"Oh, Albus," he heard Minerva say softly behind him. She had risen and was near. He could feel her standing just inches away. "Albus . . . I see that you believe her, but I do not. Not in the least. She was a woman scorned, a witch scorned. She had just betrayed you in a terrible way, and rather than blame herself, she came up with excuses. She wanted you to blame yourself for her own disgusting behaviour."

Albus felt Minerva's touch, her hands lightly on his shoulders, then rubbing his back very gently.

"I do not know why you would believe her and not me, my dearest, most wonderful Albus," Minerva said softly. "Perhaps, in her anger, her words had the force of a spell of some sort. Tyree witches used to cause men impotence with just a look, they say, if they were angry. I do not know how much truth there is to that tale, but . . . for you to have carried this with you as you have, and for me to know how wonderful it is when you kiss and caress me, how you can excite me with your touch, bringing me pleasure just with your voice . . . I do not understand why you would believe her nasty, vindictive words, Albus, when they are so very far from the truth."

Albus bent his head. Minerva's words were delivered gently and lovingly. His reason recognised the truth to what she said, but there was still a knot in his stomach when he considered that he might reach for her, touch her, caress her, and she would withdraw from him involuntarily. He could not bear that. He would rather continue in a chaste relationship, as chaste, at least, as it had been until now, than to risk her shying from him.

"Believe me, Albus, believe me," Minerva said softly, still gently running her hands over his back. "You are extremely handsome, immensely attractive, and your touch warms and excites me. I love to hear your voice, to feel your hands touching me, to feel your lips on mine, your lips over my skin, your tongue touching mine, and," she continued even more softly, "feeling your desire for me, your very physical desire, it quickens my own need and desire. Touch me, Albus, touch me, and you will see and feel how much pleasure you bring me, how you awaken my desire, and how my desire is for you and for you alone."

Albus consciously relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of Minerva's soothing hands rubbing his back. He put all thought of Valerianna's words out of his head, thinking instead of Minerva's quiet acceptance of his admissions. She had no censure for him, only caring words and a loving touch. As if she had noticed that he was enjoying her touch, Minerva began to gently massage his shoulders, and he relaxed more, then she put her arms around him and leaned against his back.

"I love you, Minerva," he whispered.

"And I love you, Albus," she answered, giving him a squeeze. "I love you so very much."

They stood like that for a few minutes, not speaking, Albus simply enjoying the feeling of Minerva at his back, her arms encircling him. He raised one hand from where it had rested on the stone rampart and placed it on her hand. She turned her hand over and held his, then placed her other hand on top of his.

"Your hands are cold," she said softly.

"I'm sorry," he replied. He felt her shake her head slightly against him.

"Here, give me your hands," Minerva said, and Albus turned around as she took hold of his hands. Rather than using a common warming charm, as he might have expected, had he thought about it, she took his hands between her own, brought them to her mouth and breathed on them, then she brought them to her chest and held them to her warmth, gently caressing them. "A little warmer?"

Albus nodded, very aware of Minerva's soft breasts beneath his hands. "Yes, a little warmer," he whispered hoarsely.

"Good, very good," Minerva said, still rubbing the backs of his hands. She smiled up at him when he began to move his thumbs gently against her breasts.

He bent his head and kissed her forehead, then her mouth. He didn't break the kiss as Minerva brought one hand to his face, caressing his face and jaw. He moved his hand on her breast and her slight moan sent a frisson of pleasure through him. Her other hand went to his hip, and he enjoyed the feel of her breasts beneath his hands. Even through her robes, he could feel her nipples peaked from his stimulation, and he cupped her breasts and brushed his thumbs across her nipples. She pulled out of the kiss with a gasp, clutching at his robes, and Albus kissed her exposed throat, very aware of her rapid pulse and her sharp intake of breath as he softly moved his lips over her skin.

Albus turned, bringing Minerva with him, so that now her back was to the battlements; he put one arm around her, still kissing her throat and the exposed area below her collarbone, caressing her breasts more boldly as she leaned back against his arm, opening herself to him. He kissed the soft skin of her neck and chest as his hand wandered lower, down her abdomen then returning to caress her breast again. As his hand travelled down her body again and began to caress her from her stomach to her hip and back again to her breast, then lower again, Albus moved his lips up her throat to her jaw, then to a spot just behind her ear, where he gently kissed and nipped. Minerva's mews of pleasure caused his own excitement to grow, and he took her delicate earlobe between his lips as his fingers tentatively sought her crux through her robe. She moaned and pressed into his hand, clutching blindly at his robes.

"More, Albus . . . oh, please, don't stop," she gasped, then she moaned again as she felt Albus's tongue caress her ear as he began to rub her more vigorously.

Involuntarily, Minerva opened her legs further to his stimulating touch. Her head lolled back, resting against the top of the wall, and her weight was supported almost entirely by Albus's left arm around her. Minerva couldn't think, only feel, though if she had any thought, it would have been the astonished awareness that no man had ever before brought her such pleasure without removing her clothing, or at least moving it aside, but she did not think, her mind fully occupied with the feel and sound of Albus's mouth and breath in her ear and the throbbing where he was stimulating her through her robe, his hand moving rapidly against her, applying precisely the amount of pressure needed to bring her pleasure, and in precisely the right place. Then, as she breathed his name, she felt an explosion within her, and wave upon wave of intense pleasure flowed through her.

"Oh, gods, yes, Albus, oh, my love, Albus!" she cried weakly, arching her back as he held her securely. Then she was limp and exhausted, and Albus brought his arm around her and held her close to him. Minerva was glad for his support; she was certain that her legs would not hold her up at that moment, but she brought her arms up and draped them about him. "Oh, Albus . . . that was . . . that was simply . . ." She sighed and settled her head closer to his beating heart.

As she returned to herself, Minerva realised that she had done nothing at all for Albus, and she brought one hand around between them and began to seek his erection, but Albus caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger. Minerva tilted her head to look up at him questioningly. He was smiling softly.

"I am happy you found that . . . acceptable, my dear," he said, a twinkle in his eye.

Minerva swallowed, then blushed, suddenly feeling somewhat embarrassed at the way that she had simply let go as she had. But then she reminded herself quickly that at least now, Albus could not possibly believe that his touch would leave her cold or disgust her, and she returned his smile.

"It was far more than 'acceptable,' Headmaster. I do believe I would give you an 'Outstanding,' with extra marks for efficacy and style," Minerva said, a slightly naughty grin crossing her face, pleased when he returned her smile. "Perhaps we should see how well I do," she said with a whisper, moving her other hand between them, but Albus caught that one up, too.

He kissed her hands, then her forehead. He rested his cheek against her forehead, then whispered, "Another time, I think, Minerva."

Minerva struggled for words, "But, I am happy to, I would like to . . ."

"Mmm, yes. But not now. Please, my dearest love," he murmured. He let out a long, happy sigh, releasing her hands, resting his head on hers, and putting his arms around her again. "Now, just this, just . . . this."

Minerva nodded. She relaxed against him. This was nice. Very, very nice. Now, if they only had her wizarding wireless with them, they could have music. But this was lovely. More than that.

Albus moved them to the glider, and Minerva settled into his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. The night was fully upon them now, and the stars were a shining host in the clear black sky. Minerva let her head fall back so that she could look up at them.

"Did you arrange all of this, Albus? Tell the clouds to leave this corner of Scotland for the night so that we could see all of the beautiful stars?" she asked.

Albus smiled at her little joke and shook his head. "No, for the only light that interested me tonight was the light in your eyes. I love you, my dear Minerva, my sweet love." He kissed her forehead. "But I am glad that my little rooftop haven pleases you."

"It is very romantic, Albus. Perfect, in fact." She put her hand at the back of his neck and drew him down for a kiss. After she had kissed him – a few times, finding it difficult to stop, her lips returning to his for just one more kiss and then another – Minerva looked into his eyes and said, "I am the luckiest witch in all the world, in all of history. Thank you, Albus, thank you for making me so."

"It is the least I can do for the witch who has made me the happiest, most blessed of all men," he said, his voice a low rumble against her. His lips brushed her hair. "I am more happy than I thought possible." His sigh of contentment was a warm breeze over Minerva. "Would you like more cognac? Or I could reheat the coffee," Albus suggested.

Minerva shook her head. "I think what I would really like – other than you," she said with a small chuckle, walking her fingers up Albus's chest, "is a cup of tea."

Albus nodded. "That can be provided," he said. "I can call Wilspy now. Would you like anything else?"

Minerva said, "No, just the tea, I think. But we could go down and have some in my suite. I often make tea for myself."

Albus hesitated slightly, then he said, "Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you."

"I noticed that you don't have a kitchen, Albus – when I was looking for you on Wednesday," Minerva said. "I'm sorry, Albus. I didn't mean to snoop, I was just frantic, trying to find you."

Albus chuckled. "You have free access to my suite, my dear, because I trust you. You could not snoop, because you are welcome. Anywhere, all right, my love?"

Minerva nodded. "Thank you."

"And I do not have a kitchen because Headmaster Dippet did not have one, nor did Headmaster Black, before him. I believe that Phineas Nigellus had it removed, in fact. He found it plebeian to have a kitchen in his suite," Albus said with amusement. "I did not have one in my earlier quarters, either, simply because it did not occur to me that I could have one, and by the time I realised I could, Wilspy was on very good terms with the Hogwarts house-elves and I did not want to deprive her of her social contact by having her believe that she had to use a kitchen in our suite. Now, I am simply used to it, and I doubt I would ever use it myself. But I am very glad that you like yours."

Albus moved forward in the seat, and Minerva sat up, sliding off his lap. Albus put his arm around her shoulders and they moved toward the stair.

"Should I go first, my dear?" he asked.

Minerva laughed. "That would be fine. If I can put my hand on your shoulder, as I used to."

"I would hope that you would do that," Albus said with a smile.

He led her down the narrow stairway, and Minerva put one hand on each shoulder. When they reached the bottom, she squeezed his shoulders in a gentle massage, stopping him from moving any further. Some slight pressure, and Albus turned to face her. Minerva smiled down at him and combed her fingers through his hair.

"You are so . . . gorgeous, Albus, so wonderful, and looking at you is such a pleasure, and touching you, an even greater one." She kissed his forehead, then looked into his eyes again.

Albus smiled brightly up at her, and said in a low voice, "And you, my love, are my sun and my stars, the wave that lifts me, the fresh breeze that invigorates me, the very rhythm of my heartbeat; you, my sweet Minerva, are the passion in my life, that which animates my very being, the pinnacle I never hoped to attain. You are the light beyond the clouds, the joy on the far side of sorrow: you are my love."

Minerva leaned forward and kissed his cheeks. Tears entered her eyes. She whispered, "I wish I could say to you anything at all as beautiful as your words to me."

Albus pulled her toward him, down one more step, and held her close. He turned his face into her hair and took a deep breath and let it out.

"Your words are beautiful to me, my dear Minerva. Very beautiful, words of love. Your presence in my life, even more so," he said softly. "And the words that you uttered, that brought me beyond my fears . . . they could not have been more beautiful."

"You are very sweet, Albus," Minerva said with a sigh.

"Now, what about that letter?" Albus asked, pulling back slightly.

"We don't have to get it just this minute . . . though I would like to read it." Minerva was torn. She wanted to read the letter, but she didn't want to have anything interrupt the moment.

"I think I know where it is," Albus said thoughtfully. He flicked a finger, opening the door to his bedroom, flicked it twice more, though Minerva couldn't see to what effect, then he whispered, "Accio letter," beckoning the letter to him. A moment later, it sailed through the door and into his hand.

Albus turned to her, his eyes sparkling, and said, "Here you are, my dear. Your post." He handed her the letter, sketching a slight bow. "Do bear in mind as you read it, however, when the letter was written. It was before . . . all the confusion."

Minerva laughed lightly. "In the midst of the confusion, I would say. Right approaching the peak of confusion, actually."

Albus nodded. "Indeed. Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the other stairs.

"Let's," Minerva replied, stepping down the final step.

Albus placed his hand on the old, scarred door and said, "Peppermint Pillows."

It glowed and swung open. "Shall I go ahead again?"

Minerva smiled and nodded, then placed her hands on his shoulders as they stepped into the narrow, torchlit stairway.

"Mmm," Minerva said as they walked down the stairs, "I do love to feel your magic, Albus. It feels somehow especially nice here, in your shoulders, and in your chest."

"You really are very sensitive to my magic in particular, Minerva?" Albus asked, his voice echoing slightly against the high stone walls.

"Yes, very. Much more so than anyone else's. Sometimes . . . sometimes, particularly when you are casting a spell, I can even feel it when I'm standing a several feet from you and not even touching you," she replied. "I have been aware of it for a very long time, and my awareness grew as I got older, and it hasn't faded at all, in all the years I've known you, even when we were apart for long intervals."

"Hmm, that is interesting. It is likely related to the phenomenon that drew us both to the mated wands, or drew them to us."

"Do you – do you notice mine, Albus?" Minerva asked hesitantly.

"I am somewhat aware of almost anyone's magic," Albus answered. "Occasionally, I will even pass a Muggle family on the street, and I can tell that one of the children will be receiving a Hogwarts letter. Not always, of course, and occasionally . . . very occasionally there is a Muggle, someone who is very thoroughly and obviously a Muggle, who seems on first glance to have a magical signature, though a weak one, and, on the other hand, there is sometimes a wizard or a witch who is quite well-endowed with magic, but whose magic is practically undetectable to me unless I cast a diagnostic spell or am touching them as they cast a spell. When I am somewhere such as the Ministry, or in the middle of Diagon Alley, or at Hogwarts, when it is in session, everyone's magic tends to seem to blend together, though."

"Oh, so my magic just . . . blends in," Minerva said, feeling somewhat disappointed.

"I was just getting to that, Minerva," Albus said before he paused and opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, then led her into the side corridor. He continued, "Your magic has always been somewhat . . . lighter, somehow, if that makes any sense, distinguishable from the others, or distinguishing itself. Even years ago, in a roomful of students, I would know where you were and feel your magic. It was as though . . . as though it sang a descant above all the others, beautifully and unmistakably Minerva." He stopped, blushing.

They had not yet quite reached the end of the short hallway, but Minerva held onto his arm and turned him toward her. "That was a lovely way of putting it, Albus," she said, smiling. She looked up into his eyes and rubbed his upper arm. Noticing that his blush had not faded and that he was having trouble meeting her gaze, she added, "You know . . . we cannot try to pretend that I was never your student, that we haven't known each other since I was very young. I can understand that it might sometimes be uncomfortable for you to remember that, but we cannot simply avoid talking about those times. We could avoid it, I suppose, but I would rather not. Those were enjoyable times, and interesting ones, and occasionally distressing, but we shared them. We had different relationships with each other at different times in our lives. Our relationship has simply grown and developed."

Albus nodded. "I know that. I understand what you are saying." He smiled slightly. "And I appreciate that you understand my occasional, passing sense of discomfort."

"But we will get used to it, together, hmm?" Minerva said with another caress. "We are in love, Albus," she whispered. "We have been in love with each other for a long time. We just didn't know it. In fact, in a way, you have been courting me. Not openly, of course, or consciously, but you have been doing wonderful things for me for quite a while, and they have only become more special over time. And this summer, you were most especially sweet and romantic. Everything you did only helped me fall more deeply in love with you than I had been before."

He looked down at her with loving eyes. "Except when doppelganger-Albus made an appearance," he said with a slight smile.

"Except then, of course," Minerva replied. "Do you think you need another dose of prevention?" she asked with a gleam in her eye.

"Hmm," Albus said thoughtfully. "I wonder . . . do I? It might be a very good idea. If you don't mind dispensing the cure."

"Not terribly," she said, restraining her grin. "It will be worth the sacrifice, I'm sure."

Minerva put her arms around Albus's neck and watched his face as he bent his head for his kiss. She met his lips with hers, closing her eyes and savouring the sensation of his lips on hers, of his breath on her cheek, and his arms around her as he pulled her closer to him. Finally, she lay her head against him and sighed in contentment.

"I did promise you a cup of tea," Minerva said, "and I suppose that standing here in the hallway is not fulfilling that promise, is it?"

"Mm, no, but I would say that doppelganger-Albus is definitely being held at bay, if he even exists any longer," Albus said with a chuckle as he ran a hand up and down her back.

The sound resonating in his chest gave Minerva goose-bumps, but she leaned back, taking a deep breath, and said, "Then on to my rooms, my darling Albus."