CXXV: Rematch

CXXV: Rematch

At her door, Minerva gave her password, and the Silent Knight bowed and opened the door with a slight click, but Albus hesitated.

"It is late. Perhaps I should –"

Minerva didn't let him finish. "Perhaps you should sit on my couch and allow me to make you a soothing cup of chamomile tea. That is what you were about to say, isn't it? Or is doppelganger-Albus returning?"

"Oh, never, not at all! I was simply thinking of the hour, and of your, um, beauty sleep," Albus said awkwardly.

Minerva laughed and pulled him into the sitting room. "All right, as long as it isn't doppelganger-Albus – and you needn't worry, Albus."

"Worry?" he asked as she closed the door behind them.

"That I might . . . press your virtue?" she said as she walked toward her little kitchen. "Have a seat, Albus. Make yourself comfortable. I won't be more than a minute."

Good to her word, Minerva reemerged from the kitchen less than a minute later, her wand out, a teapot, two cups and saucers, a small pitcher of milk, and a little honey pot floating on a tray in front of her. She settled everything down on the small table in front of the couch, then she waved her wand, bringing the water in the teapot up to just the right temperature. She picked up a small jar and emptied its contents into the pot, then waved her wand to give them a brief stir.

Albus had made himself at home while Minerva was in the kitchen, taking off his short boots, but he reached for them to put them back on. "I'm sorry, my dear, I didn't realise you would be so quick about it. My feet were a bit tired."

"Leave them off, then. You can put them on before you leave. I did say to make yourself comfortable," she said, sitting down beside him and slipping off her own shoes. "The tea will take only a few minutes. I generally like to pour the water over the tea or herbs, but this seemed faster. I hope you don't mind honey. I only realised when I looked for it that I don't have any sugar."

"No, I prefer honey in herb teas, generally," Albus replied, crossing his ankles.

"Here, you said your feet were tired," Minerva said, moving over and gesturing to him. "Let me rub them for you."

"Oh, no, Minerva, that's all right. They're fine, really," Albus said.

"Well, you could put them up here in my lap," Minerva said with a smile, "or I could get down on the floor to rub them. Conjure a stool, or something."

Albus chuckled and shook his head. "You really needn't, you know."

Minerva rolled her eyes, but smiled when Albus turned and leaned against the arm of the sofa, bringing his feet up to rest in her lap. Her smile broadened when she saw the socks.

"They don't really go with your robes, do they?" she asked with a grin as she began to rub his right foot, taking it between both hands.

Albus wiggled his toes and looked at his socks. "No one sees them under my boots. And there are clouds on the calves. Above the trees on the ankles," he said, raising the hem of his robes slightly so that she could see more of the bucolic scene magically woven into his socks.

Minerva laughed. "It must be fun to know you are walking about with – what are these tiny creatures? Ducklings or chicks? – hopping about in a green meadow on your feet, with little lambs cavorting with them."

Albus grinned. "There's even a snake in the grass; you may notice her. She pops her head up occasionally. But peacefully. She's a very little green snake."

Minerva laughed at that. "'Her'? How do you know it's a she, Albus?"

"Her name is 'Esmerelda,'" Albus said, then he laughed with Minerva.

As Minerva began to rub his left foot, pressing her thumbs into his arch and running them up the centre of his foot, Albus sighed in contentment. "You are very good at that, my dear."

Minerva grinned. "Thank you. I appreciate a good foot rub myself occasionally – not tonight, Albus!" she said, seeing an expression cross his face and his mouth begin to open with an offer to rub her feet. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy it. But I'm not doing this to have one in exchange. Though I would appreciate one at some other time! Why don't you pour the tea? It must be finished brewing."

Albus nodded and poured out for them. "Honey, my sweet Minerva?" he asked.

Minerva hesitated. "Yes, but think about how much you like in it and cut it by at least two-thirds. I like just enough to add a little flavour but not too much sweetness."

Albus nodded obediently and added honey to the cups, then made a gesture to stir it in. "Now, as much as I am enjoying the foot massage, you will need to have your hands free for your tea," he said as he Levitated Minerva's cup over to her.

"All right," Minerva responded, patting his foot as she put it back down in her lap. "Next time, we'll do it without the socks on. You'll enjoy that even more." She twitched a smile, thinking of other activities they could engage in with fewer clothes on, but she said nothing more.

Albus swung his feet around, sitting up straight on the couch. "Thank you very much!" He wiggled his toes then pulled on his boots. "My feet thank you, too. And Esmerelda!" He reached over and picked up his own teacup.

Minerva smiled. "You didn't need to sit up, though, Albus. I was quite comfortable."

"Very nice tisane," Albus said, taking a sip.

"The very last of the chamomile you gave me when I went to the Gamps. I have been rationing it," Minerva replied. "I did enjoy it very much. It was an extremely thoughtful present."

Albus smiled and patted the cushion next to him. Minerva slid closer to him and smiled when he bent his head and kissed her temple.

"I am glad that you enjoyed it, Minerva. I knew you were a little apprehensive about the house party, and I also know that they can be tiring, especially if you're not a . . . a people person," Albus said.

"Do you enjoy them, Albus?" Minerva asked. "I don't mean parties in general. I mean the Gamp parties."

Albus nodded. "Generally, yes. They are not usually as grand as I understand it was this year. Usually, for several days, there are closer members of the family, such as Quin and his children, and Robert and Thea, visiting, coming and going, but not so many more distant friends and relatives there. Then there is a larger party at the end of the week. That is usually held on a weekend, unlike this year, but I understand that the schedule of the guests of honour dictated its placement. You can't very well hold an engagement party if the engaged parties are not in attendance!"

Minerva laughed. "I wouldn't have minded," she said, quickly adding, "but that is an unkind thing to say."

Albus quirked a grin. "But an amusing thought." He chuckled. "Can you imagine the non-invitation to such a party? 'Dear Friends, we are holding a party in your honour next month. We shall toast your health and wish you well in the future. No need to attend. We wish the party to be a congenial affair, and the guests will be most happy to toast you in your absence'!"

"Albus!" Minerva laughed again and shook her head slightly. Albus rarely said anything gratuitously derogatory about someone, and he wasn't known for making cruel jokes at others' expense, but of course this hadn't been directed at anyone in particular. "You can be naughty!"

Albus's eyes sparkled. "I can be quite naughty – under the right circumstances, my dear!"

Minerva chuckled. "I look forward to creating the right circumstances for you to be . . . naughty with me."

Albus gazed at her face, and met Minerva's eyes. His smile changed from one of teasing amusement to one of affection. "I look forward to that, too."

Albus let go of his teacup and saucer, and they floated over to the table. He took Minerva's from her and sent them to sit beside the teapot. He raised a hand and caressed her face, then he leaned forward and kissed her lips. His arms went around her, and he deepened the kiss as Minerva embraced him. Then he kissed her lightly several times before holding her close to him.

He took in a slow, deep breath then let it out in a sigh. "I love you, Minerva," he whispered.

"And I love you, Albus," Minerva responded, her voice slightly muffled as she nuzzled his chest.

Albus kissed the top of her head then slowly disengaged from her embrace. "The tea was lovely, and much as I do not want this night to end, it is very late."

Minerva nodded and stood. She took his hand as he rose. "If you wouldn't find it too dull to have breakfast with me again, I would enjoy having breakfast with you in the morning," she said.

"Breakfast with you would never become dull, although it would be lovely if it were to become . . . routine," Albus answered. "I hope we are able to breakfast together most mornings that we are both in the castle – when school is not in session."

Minerva nodded. "I would like that very much."

"Come up to my suite when you are up, then. It is late. Sleep as long as you wish. Wilspy can bring us our breakfast whenever you arrive," Albus suggested as they walked toward the door.

"Good night, Albus," Minerva said. "Sleep well!"

"I am sure I will," he answered. "Good night, my dear Minerva."

He tilted her face toward him, one gentle finger on her chin, and bent his head to kiss her. He felt some reluctance to leave, and he kissed her once more before opening the door.

"I will see you soon," Albus said.

"Very soon," Minerva replied. "Sweet dreams, Albus!"

He stepped through the door, looked back at Minerva once, blew her a kiss, which she felt land on her cheek, making her smile, then he turned and headed away toward the Headmaster's backstair and his own bed.

Minerva closed the door and leaned against it. She had wanted Albus to stay, but she had promised not to press him. He had made great strides in just a few days, and revealing his fears to her that night on the rooftop had been a tremendous leap for him. She smiled as she remembered how Albus had touched her, and she blushed. She did hope that he didn't think that she was . . . wanton. He was a gentleman, and of a different period. Obviously, Albus didn't expect her to have no desires or drives. He had said that a healthy young witch needed a vital wizard, after all. He didn't seem to labour under some bizarre notion that good witches didn't have physical needs and desires. Still, after having let go as she had, and after her promise not to press him, she couldn't very well make him uncomfortable by again suggesting he stay. Minerva was certain that he wasn't yet ready for that. But soon, perhaps, soon, that would change.

Now, though, she would get ready for bed and read Albus's letter to her.

Minerva got ready for bed, then paused at her vanity and picked up the picture of her and Albus after her Challenge. She looked at it and smiled. Watching the two of them in the photograph now, and their reactions to each other, Minerva didn't know why she hadn't always recognised that they were in love with each other. In love . . . perhaps even then, perhaps he had been in love with her even then. That had been nine years ago, a little more, actually. Minerva shook her head at their foolishness in not recognising each other's feelings. On the other hand, at not even twenty-four years old, Minerva didn't think she would have been ready for a relationship with Albus then.

No, Minerva knew that their relationship would have its difficulties, and some unusual ones, given their differences, including the difference in their ages; at twenty-four, however, she would not have had the experience that she did now. And although she and Albus had, of course, called themselves friends at that point, she had still felt far more the student to him, and she certainly hadn't the same abilities at that time, nor the range of knowledge that she had attained in the interim. No, a few years more maturity had only helped her, Minerva was certain. She wouldn't have wanted to have bored Albus or had him chuckling over her naivete or innocence. Still, it was a pity they hadn't come together three or four years before, sometime before that other witch had tried to sink her claws into him. That one large problem that had stood between them never would have arisen. Minerva had no doubt that the insecurities that Valerianna had instigated had been a large part of Albus's inability to see that Minerva was in love with him, to realise that it had been she who had kissed him, who had returned his kiss, and who had been pleased by his touch and not disturbed by it. If it were not for Valerianna, Minerva was certain that that final crisis never would have occurred and that they would have come together without so much pain.

Tears rose in her eyes as she remembered Albus's reluctance, his embarrassment and shame, and the sound of his voice as he had told her what that other witch had said to him. And Minerva was certain that Valerianna's actual words had been much worse. Minerva had wanted to cry and to hold him when he was telling her about it, but she knew instinctively that that was the wrong reaction at that moment, that he needed her to accept his pain and to wipe away the nastiness that Valerianna had left behind. To have wept for him then would have been self-indulgent and would have embarrassed Albus even more than he already was. But now, in the privacy of her own room, she sat on the edge of her bed, and she wept tears of sorrow and anger.

It had disturbed her so to hear him say even that it might have been "wrong" of him to have tried to please Valerianna. That cow hadn't appreciated him, and Minerva now wished that she had done far more than simply jinx her shoes. For Albus to blame himself . . . of course, there was the issue of Gertrude and why he had not believed her. Minerva assumed it must have had something to do with their one-time relationship, if they had had one. Perhaps he had broken things off with Gertrude at some point, and so he assumed that Gertrude was only trying to get him back. Something seemed wrong with that picture, although Minerva couldn't lay her finger on what it was, aside from the fact that Gertrude was a far superior witch to that Yaxley person. She shrugged to herself and sighed. Albus might tell her at some point. Right then, Minerva was simply relieved that he had finally talked to her about Valerianna and her nasty words. She doubted that he had told anyone else. Whom would he tell? The person he was closest to seemed to be Gertrude, and although Gertrude would likely be understanding – and very angry with Valerianna – it didn't seem the sort of thing that Albus would have shared with her. And Minerva didn't know whether it would have made it more or less likely for Albus to have told Gertrude what Valerianna had said if the two had once been in an intimate relationship.

Minerva put the picture down, running her finger along the edge of the gold frame, admiring once again its Art Nouveau qualities and Albus's artistry. They were together now, and they had overcome obstacles on their way. Minerva wasn't going to let anything else come between them, never for long, anyway. And Albus himself had made great strides that night. These were very large changes in his life, Minerva was certain. As much as he enjoyed being with her and creating romantic surprises for her, eventually, everyday life would begin to reassert itself. And there would be practical questions that would arise between them. He had been alone for a very long time, and their positions at the school didn't precisely create ideal conditions for them to be involved, let alone to begin a life together. They hadn't discussed exactly what they were doing, although Albus had said that he was "paying her court." Courtship generally had a rather specific goal in mind, although Minerva was fairly sure that Albus hadn't thought that far ahead with regard to their relationship and was using the term in a more generic sense.

But now to read her letter from Albus. Minerva sat up in bed, her pillows plumped behind her, put on her glasses, and unfolded the letter Albus had given her. She hoped that it wasn't the sort of apology he had written her on Wednesday. Minerva smiled as she read the first lines. She needn't have worried.

"13 August 1957

"Albus"

Tears ran down her face as she realised that if she had received this, their great misunderstanding never would have occurred. But then, it wouldn't have been resolved, either. It was a beautiful letter, and it might have brought her closer to understanding, but Albus was so resistant . . . No, they likely would have gone on as they had done, and it either would have continued so indefinitely, or they would have had some similar encounter that might not have ended as well. In any event, it seemed that this crisis was what Albus had needed before he could tell her how he felt, and it had provided the turning point in their relationship.

"'Yours always,'" Minerva read softly to herself. "Mine, always . . ."

Minerva believed that he meant those words quite literally, despite his occasional insecurities. And she would cherish him always. She remembered Quin's words the previous day, cherish every minute he is in this world with you. I would give me life to spend one more minute in a world inhabited by me Aileen, even if I were not with her durin' that minute. She would certainly cherish every minute. Minerva believed she would have done so, in any case, but Quin's words made her very aware of the fragility of life. That day that Quin had seen his wife off on her outing, he had no thought that she might never return, that she would die suddenly and violently. No, Minerva thought, she would never take Albus for granted, nor their time together.

Minerva set the letter on her bedside stand, then took off her glasses and put them on top of the letter. Before she extinguished the lights, however, she picked up the small photograph of Albus that she had treasured for so long. She smiled as she placed a fingertip on the delicate rose. The charm was holding very well; she didn't think she would need to refresh it for quite some time. She had taken the second red rose that Albus had given her and cast drying and preserving charms on that one, as well, and had placed it with all of the letters in her wooden chest, on top of the still somewhat wrinkled note that he had sent her on Wednesday. She couldn't very well save every flower that Albus gave her, especially as he seemed to enjoy giving her flowers, but that particular one was a reminder of their first real date and was, in a sense, the counterpart to the one that she had affixed to this little frame. She hadn't been able to bring herself to discard it.

Yes, Albus had been courting her, though neither of them had been aware of it. Minerva had sometimes sensed that he was, but Albus had never been able to tell her how he felt about her. She didn't doubt that he might still have some difficulties adjusting to their new relationship, but they had certainly made a breakthrough that night on the rooftop. She did have a great physical desire for him, and for more than simply having him bring her to the height of passion as he had, but she would try to restrain herself for his sake, until he was ready for greater intimacy between them. She didn't want to rush him. Minerva smiled to herself, remembering how lovely it had been simply to rest in his arms, to feel safe, warm, secure, and loved as Albus held her. He certainly seemed to appreciate physical affection beyond the sexual, which pleased Minerva. While she wasn't a terribly demonstrative person, generally, she did want to be affectionate with Albus. As he had said, one of the wonderful things about embracing her, was that he received an embrace in return, and she felt the same way.

Minerva touched the small black and white photograph one last time, remarking again how weary Albus seemed in it, then she set it back down on her bedside stand, behind the twinned stones and the nazar sitting in its nest of cord. She picked up her wand, flicked it, extinguishing the lights, then put it back down and settled into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

After leaving Minerva, Albus walked back to his hidden backstairs, a bounce in his step. Despite his fatigue, he felt like singing and skipping down the main corridor, but even with his reputation for eccentricity and the fact that there were likely no witnesses other than a few portraits, Albus restrained himself, limiting his expression of joy to a big grin on his face. When he reached the narrow, barren side hall to his stairway, however, he did begin to whistle, the tune echoing against the walls and the high ceiling. As Albus approached the heavy oak door, he chuckled to himself. He had been whistling a rather lively version of "Scarborough Fair"; there was only one witch for him from now on, no matter how much he might appreciate the company of others. Dear, sweet Minerva. And they had certainly overcome the seemingly impossible in order to learn that they were truly in love.

He mounted the stairs that led to his bedroom, and he thought that Minerva was somewhat naive about the genuine and significant difficulties that would face them, not the least of which being their age difference. For now, though, Albus wanted to enjoy courting her and pleasing her. He loved to see the happiness in her eyes, and her appreciation when he presented her with a surprise. There would be time enough, he thought, to discuss practical difficulties – or simply to encounter them. They would only increase once the school year began; it was inevitable. If he weren't Headmaster, those particular obstacles would not be insurmountable, though they would take considerable effort to overcome, but his position, combined with Minerva's responsibilities as Head of House . . . Albus shook his head. The difficulties presented them by their positions were not insurmountable, either, but they would require a great deal of ingenuity and patience to overcome.

Albus got ready for bed, changing into his favourite summer nightshirt of narrow red and gold stripes on a creamy background. Unlike his winter nightshirts, which skimmed his ankles, his summer nightshirts only reached his calves. He washed, brushed his hair and beard using a special Charmed beard brush Gertrude had given him years ago, then waved his wand and cast an antitangling charm on his hair.

He climbed into bed, then reached over and picked up Big Ben and wound it by hand. Albus hesitated, then he set the alarm for eight o'clock. It was already almost two, but he knew that Minerva tended to be an early riser, and he didn't want her to have to wait for him to be ready for breakfast. Perhaps he should have been more specific about a time for her to meet him, but if she could sleep late, that would be nice for her. He set his Muggle alarm clock down and waved a hand to extinguish the lights.

Despite his fatigue, Albus found it difficult to fall asleep. Possibly the coffee with the dessert had not been a very good idea. His mind wandered back to Minerva's pleased reaction to his little rooftop surprise, and he smiled. He did so love to do things for her, and now he was more free to give her little treats and surprises than he had been. And, of course, there had been her reaction to his other . . . treat for her. He had not planned that at all; it had been a surprise even to himself. A surprise that he had touched her as he had and a surprise that she had reacted the way she did. His smile grew. Minerva had not feigned the reaction, he was certain. She had been utterly limp in his arms afterward. My word, but she certainly had been responsive to his touch! Albus wondered whether he would be able to elicit the same reaction again, under other circumstances. Perhaps next time . . . perhaps next time, he thought with a shiver, he might touch her more, feel her skin and her softness . . . perhaps even exploring her further with his fingertips. He swallowed, wondering what her arousal would feel like, and if he actually could excite her again, particularly if he touched her directly.

These thoughts created increasing excitement in himself, and Albus could feel his own arousal grow. He closed his eyes and remembered Minerva's face as she abandoned herself to his ministrations, and her expression as she reached the peak of her pleasure. Albus pressed a palm against his erection. He had not stopped Minerva from touching him there because he had any discomfort with the idea – or at least, that had not been his primary reason, nor sufficient – no, he had wanted to savour that moment with her and not have it lost in some subsequent . . . activity. He had wanted to simply hold her and relish the sensation of her warm body in his arms and the very present memory of having brought her such pleasure.

He pressed against his erection a bit harder and considered pleasuring himself, but instead, he Summoned his wand and cast a cooling charm, then he began to recite the twelves uses of dragon's blood to himself. Whereas that morning in the shower, he had wanted to attain release in order that he might not importune upon Minerva, now he wished to save his passions for her. Even if it were weeks before they made love – and despite that night's activities, Albus planned to court Minerva properly and not rush her – even if it were weeks, he would rather wait. Any release he could achieve himself was bound to be a mere shadow of what it would be like when they made love. Provided, of course, that he didn't encounter any problems – he was sure he would be nervous that first time, and not only from wondering whether he still might disgust her, as unlikely as that now seemed, or whether could please her, but also because it had simply been so many years. And the charms that he had practised with Gertrude and even, though she had been unaware of it, with Maria . . . perhaps they would fail. Not that he needed them, they were simply nice . . . embellishments. But there was one charm in particular that he did not wish to have fail. He would certainly review that charm, and he would do so the very next day. After all, it had been botching a similar charm that had been the indirect cause of Dervilia's death. Albus shuddered. No, he had to get that one right, and though he had no doubt that Minerva knew a few witches' charms, as well, it was his seed to stop, after all.

Whatever form their first love-making took, or whenever it occurred, Albus thought to himself as he began to grow sleepy, he would ensure that Minerva felt safe, secure, loved, and in complete control. Albus fell asleep thinking of Minerva and her love, again in amazement that he could feel so very happy.

Late the following day, Minerva watched as Malcolm followed Gertrude out of the staff room, on their way who-knew-where, and she was unsure whether she was sorry she hadn't had an opportunity to speak with him yet. He had apparently arrived at Hogwarts sometime that afternoon and had spent the time with Gertrude in, of all places, the Forbidden Forest. He had been appalled that in all the years she had taught there, Gertrude had never been beyond the fringes of the Forest, and as a student, had only gone in on class outings, again, never beyond the fringes; so Malcolm had, as he put it, "reacquainted himself with the wood and given Gertrude a bit of a tour." Neither seemed the worse for it, though Minerva did think that Gertrude looked a bit drained. She had probably been on edge the entire time they had been on their "tour," no matter that Malcolm, full of confidence, had been with her.

Minerva rather doubted that Gertrude would just happen to mention to Malcolm that Albus and she were now involved. Surely the two had more interesting things to do than discuss her and Albus. Still, it might have been a good thing to have been able to speak with him after dinner; but now, of course, she could spend the entire evening with Albus. They had had a lovely morning. She had discreetly waited until eight-thirty to go up to his suite, despite having woken at seven. They'd had breakfast, then taken a short walk before Albus had to get to work. He promised her, though, that they would spend the evening together, and she had broached the idea of going away for a few days, the two of them together, before school began on the first. Albus had seemed somewhat stunned by the suggestion, and Minerva was slightly embarrassed. She hadn't meant that they would go away together in quite the way it had sounded when she said it – not that she would be averse to greater intimacy with him, but she was determined to try to be patient for his sake – but Albus had recovered his composure and said that it certainly sounded like a very nice idea, but they would have to think about it. It wouldn't do to have the Headmaster away when everyone else was expected to be in residence, after all, and he did have certain things on his schedule that couldn't be moved, or at least, not easily. Still, he would think about it and see what he could do to clear two or three days.

Minerva smiled. It would be nice if during those two or three days, they could overcome some of those final inhibitions Albus seemed to have, whatever their source. Sooner would be fine with her, too. But, she reminded herself, she would exercise patience. Or try to. Although it might not hurt to . . . stretch the boundaries a bit. Particularly if he repeated his actions of the night before, though, Minerva didn't know how much patience she could exercise if he did that.

She heard Albus laugh at something Hagrid said, and a shiver passed through her. If only he had any idea of what even the sound of his voice or his laughter could do to her, let alone how she felt when he smiled at her – and when he touched her! Minerva began to grow warm, and it was only remembering her Occlumency exercises that kept her from blushing at where her thoughts were leading. Albus glanced over at her, and she looked away quickly. She knew that if he caught her eye, her composure would crumple and she would surely blush.

Minerva concentrated on her pudding, and was quite happy when Albus rose and asked her if she would be up for a game of chess. She agreed with alacrity, and the two left the staff room together. Minerva could scarcely contain herself and keep herself from throwing her arms around him and kissing him passionately. But someone else could walk out of the staff room or appear from elsewhere in the castle at any moment, so she simply straightened her back, held her head high, and walked up the stairs beside Albus, who made a few pleasantries about the day and the meal.

He stopped on the first floor and looked at her with an amused smile. "So, Professor McGonagall, did you have a productive day? I thought I might take a look at my old classroom and office, see what progress you have made."

Her classroom was only a few yards away, and as much as she wanted to get up to his suite with him, Minerva nodded. "We can do that now, if you like."

"That would be ideal, my dear," Albus replied.

Minerva was intensely aware of Albus beside her as they walked to the classroom. It seemed to her that her awareness of him had been heightened after their time together the night before. That morning, he had embraced her and kissed her, but he had, rather to her disappointment, initiated no other intimacies, and she, remembering her promise not to rush him, didn't press him, either.

They reached the classroom, and when Albus closed the door behind them, he did a bit of the wandless magic that still never failed to impress Minerva. He turned to Minerva, and she was very aware of how close to each other they were standing.

"You seemed to require some of the Headmaster's time and . . . personal attention, Professor McGonagall. I thought perhaps rather than wait, we would come . . . straight . . . here," Albus said in a low voice that sent shivers of pleasure through Minerva, and he raised one hand and touched her arm very lightly, a mere grazing touch, but it caused her to take in her breath sharply.

Minerva swallowed and looked up into his eyes. They seemed a deeper blue than ever, and his pupils were dilated as he gazed down at her. She licked her lips, then said, "I did require your personal attention, as you say, but I could have waited."

"Could you, indeed?" Albus said, quirking a slight smile. "Well, then, would you care to show me your classroom, Professor? Or would you prefer to begin with your office?" He made no move away from her, however, and continued to gently caress her arm with his fingertips.

"I think that it is more in the way of personal attention that I am needing from the Headmaster," Minerva said.

"Really?" he asked with a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Something in the way of this sort of attention, then?"

Coming no closer to her, nor ceasing his tantalising caresses, only moving them to the side of her breast, he bent his head and kissed her lips softly, lingeringly, then he whispered, his words a breath against her lips, "This sort of attention, Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes," Minerva breathed, "that sort is a start."

"A start?" Albus asked before gently pulling her lips between his own. He licked his lips and hers, too, then asked in a low voice, "And would this be the proper way to proceed from there?"

Albus brought his fingertips around to circle her nipple, hidden though it was beneath her robes, as he continued his gentle, seductive kisses of her lips. He moved her over-robe aside as he caressed her breast, eliciting an intake of breath from Minerva. Albus chuckled in pleasure and delight at her reaction as he resumed his tantalising touches to her nipple, covered in cotton and silk though it was.

Minerva raised her hands to rest them on his upper arms, not wanting to obstruct Albus's movements, and when Albus brought his other hand up to caress her other breast in the same way, she moaned. Albus made an answering, low sound in his throat, and deepened his kiss, parting his lips further, bringing hers with them, and beginning a slow, languid caress of her mouth with his tongue, as though learning and treasuring its every contour.

Albus slipped his arms around Minerva and held her close to him, allowing her to feel his arousal. Without thinking, Minerva put her arms around his neck, then she pressed herself against him, arching her back slightly to increase her contact with his erection. This time it was Albus who moaned, and when Minerva rolled her hips slightly, he broke from their kiss in a gasp and buried his face in her hair, his lips coming to rest near her ear, where they reflexively kissed the gentle curve of her ear. He let out a shuddering breath, and Minerva pressed against him harder and brought one hand down to caress his shoulder and back.

He took a steadying breath, then he kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, before drawing back to look down at her with a smile.

"Was that the sort of personal attention you were requiring, Professor McGonagall?" he asked teasingly.

"Precisely, Professor Dumbledore," Minerva responded, and the sound of her pleasant burr brought a wider smile to his face, and he kissed her forehead again lightly.

"Will that hold you a while, then?" Albus asked. "I really did hope that we would play a game or two of chess this evening."

"Of course," Minerva said. "I would enjoy that very much, myself."

"I have not yet disconnected this Floo from mine, though I meant to do so when I connected it up to your sitting room. Would you care to Floo through to my office?" he asked.

"Yes, I would – and you needn't disconnect it. Unless you feel you must, of course," Minerva added hurriedly.

"I feel no imperative to do so," he replied with a twinkle as they walked to her office, "if you would not view it as an invasion of your privacy."

"Not at all, Headmaster," Minerva replied with a shy grin. "In fact, I would be pleased if you would see fit to invade my privacy on occasion."

Albus chuckled. He took up a pinch of Floo Powder and explained, "At the moment, I can Floo freely to and from my office, but I am afraid that you cannot, because of certain security wards on the internal Floo Network. I can, however, create a bypass for those wards by creating a password for you to use when Flooing from your office to mine. No such measure is required, of course, from your sitting room Floo, as you are Head of House."

They Flooed through to his office, then walked up the brass stairs to his sitting room.

"If you don't mind my asking, Albus, who else has the ability to climb your stairs to your suite besides Gertrude and me?" Minerva asked.

"No one. Only the two of you," Albus answered.

Minerva knit her brow. "You know," she said, "as much as I am sure you value your own privacy, and as well as your current . . . system has worked till now, I do think that it is somewhat impractical. Have you considered merely requiring a password? You could have an invisible barrier that would lift upon the issuance of the proper password. You could require a second password at your sitting room door, if you liked. But this way, at least people would be able to go up and knock, and you could still only give the password to a few select staff members."

"Yes, well . . . perhaps," Albus said. "Gertrude has said something similar. But this has worked well enough. Phineas Nigellus can always pop up to my sitting room – or one of the other headmasters or headmistresses if he is not available – and announce someone if, for some reason, I have not gone down to see who has arrived in my office."

"But what if there were some other sort of an emergency? If you . . . I don't know, had an accident, or became ill?"

"Wilspy would learn of that before anyone could accidentally happen upon me, I assure you, Minerva," he said reassuringly, "although I do appreciate your concern."

"Well, what about those occasions when you don't notice your gargoyle's charm? When you are deeply asleep? Does Phineas Nigellus simply come up to your sitting room and begin shouting for you?"

"Yes, actually, he has done in the past. Now, though, I have a small picture on my bedside table, and he can pop in there and wake me, if necessary. He claimed it was undignified to have to shout for me from the sitting room. Portraits can be such peculiar things," Albus said as he Summoned a set of chessmen in their little case.

Minerva laughed. "They certainly can be, although I have often thought that the Silent Knight and Fidelio are the most peculiar I have yet encountered."

Albus chuckled. "I do believe they are the most peculiar I have encountered, myself, and that is saying something. Did I ever tell you how he and his dog came to grace your door?"

Minerva shook her head, and Albus told her how he had been trying to find a suitable portrait and had gone to one of the castle's many storerooms. He had been just about to choose a portrait of Scáthach when the Silent Knight broke his silence and said, "I will serve the lady."

"I had never heard the Knight speak before, despite the fact that he hung in Gryffindor Tower the entire time I was a student, then Dippet had him in the staff room for several years, until he replaced him with Little Boy Blue several years ago. He decided that if we were going to have a portrait that never spoke, we should have one who will speak when he is awake, even if that isn't often," Albus said as he charmed a chessboard onto his table and set up the chessmen. "So when he said he would serve you – and this despite my not having uttered a word upon entering the store room – I took a look at him, and he offered me his sword, or tried to, anyway, and so I chose him instead of Scáthach. He is an odd one . . . he doesn't seem to be constrained by the wards nor by the rules governing the Portrait Network, although I inserted him into the Network myself, something I have been doing without a hitch for twenty years." Albus shook his head. "We will have to explore this puzzle further, I believe."

"Perhaps after our few days away," Minerva suggested as she took her place on the black side of the chessboard. "Have you given that more thought, Albus?" She didn't look at him, hoping that he had thought about it, but that he hadn't decided against it.

"Yes, I have given it more thought . . . and I think it might be possible."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic about the idea," she said, as she moved out her king's pawn, still not looking up at him, but wondering whether he thought the idea, and its mention, too forward of her. "This morning you seemed . . . even less so."

"I was simply surprised by the idea. It is a fine one, though. With the school about to be filled to the gills," he said as he examined the chessboard, "we will have far less time alone together. Getting away for a few days would be nice, if we can manage it."

Minerva examined the possibilities still open to her after Albus's move, trying to see what his response might be to each of them, then she said, "I was actually worried that, well, that you would think it too forward of me." She made her move, then added, "I know that we haven't been . . . involved for very long, but we have been friends for years. It's not as though we are newly acquainted, nor as though we were too young to know enough of the world or each other to be spending that kind of time together."

Albus nodded and countered her move. "I agree. But . . . it was a surprise on more than one level." He raised his eyes and looked at her. "I am glad we are talking, and I hope that . . . that I may speak freely."

Minerva nodded. "Of course." And she meant it. She would listen to what he had to say, whatever it was, and try not to make him regret having been open with her. She knew that the relationship had been difficult for him even to recognise, let alone to enter into, and yet once he had told her of his love, he had not backed away, despite his fears and his discomfort. She could only honour his truth, regardless of how she felt about it.

"I was slightly surprised," he explained, "because I still am amazed that you want to be with me." He paused, anticipating her objection to what he had just said, and he let out a breath of relief when she simply nodded. "And it seemed a confirmation that you enjoy your time with me almost as much as I enjoy being with you."

This time, there was an objection. "Not to make this a competition, Albus, but I do object to your use of the word, 'almost," she said with a raised eyebrow.

Albus blushed, but nodded in acknowledgment. "Yes . . . and that still stuns me, though I suppose it shouldn't, as we have been friends for a long time before this and you never seemed reluctant to spend time with me in the past." He paused to make his next move, seeming scarcely to give it any thought. "But beyond that, it is all new to me, despite our long friendship. I am very happy to be becoming accustomed to your love and your new place in my life, although I will never, I hope, become so used to your presence in my life that I take you for granted, my dear," he said, taking her hand briefly and kissing her fingertips. "So the idea that we would consider going anywhere other than here was very new to me. I am enjoying our time together here at the castle so much, that although I had given thought to certain outings we might take, it had never crossed my mind that we might go away even overnight, let alone a few days, especially so close to the start of the school year. And then . . ." Albus hesitated. "Please, Minerva, do not take this amiss in anyway, but . . . although I certainly find this a lovely and welcome idea, and I am also not . . . um, it's not as though I haven't had such time away with, um, a special witch in the past, um . . . and I don't in the slightest disapprove of the suggestion . . . Indeed, I approve wholeheartedly with the sentiment and the, um, the goal . . ." Albus blushed again.

"You were surprised that it was I who came up with the idea, and not you who issued the invitation?" Minerva asked finally.

Albus nodded, then, almost as though he were speaking to the chessboard, he said, "Yes . . . that, and . . . well, again, please do not take this amiss, but when I was your age, it is not a suggestion that the young lady in the relationship would make. Not so directly, anyway, not the first time. And not after such a short period of courtship. Not that one wouldn't, of course. Go off for a few days of . . . privacy. We were more formal, but we weren't . . . um, we weren't without passion or intimate expressions of that passion, of course. Even when I was a very young man, younger than you are now." He looked up at Minerva, worried at what her reaction might be, but on seeing her face, he smiled slightly and blushed. "You aren't disturbed, I hope?" he said questioningly.

Minerva shook her head, smiling at him fondly. "No, I find you utterly and completely adorable. And I am very glad that you explained it to me. I was afraid that you just didn't want to get away from the safety of Hogwarts, where you can retreat to your office and work if you feel . . . unsure of yourself or overwhelmed by everything. Not that I believe that you have done that, or even that it has crossed your mind to do so, but it remains a possibility as long as we are here in the castle. So hearing your gentlemanly concerns, it was quite reassuring, really. A bit . . . quaint, if you don't mind my being equally honest with you, but sweet, really. Especially as I didn't hear you say anything to indicate you thought it was wrong of me to make the suggestion."

"Oh, no! Not at all, my dear! It was a lovely suggestion, and quite a welcome one. I was simply trying to explain –"

"Trying to explain why you appeared momentarily taken aback by the suggestion when I first made it," Minerva completed for him. "Yes, I see that. So . . . you say you have given it some thought. I have, as well, though I would like to hear your thoughts first."

Albus shrugged. "I simply thought that we might take a few days at the beginning of the week. Ask Gertrude if she would mind taking charge for that time. It would be somewhat unusual for me not to be here when the staff begin to arrive, but my presence isn't strictly required. The only true oddity would be for you not to be here, as well, especially when the rest of the staff has been required to return. However, I thought that perhaps I might change this year's instructions, write to everyone and say that their return is requested any time between Sunday and Wednesday, and set the first staff meeting for Wednesday afternoon. If, then, we both are here on Wednesday afternoon, it is unlikely that anyone would notice our simultaneous and uncharacteristic absences."

Minerva smiled. He really had given it some thought. Her smile was immediately followed by a frown, however, when he moved his knight and said, "Checkmate." His chessmen immediately began to cheer and congratulate one another on a good game won.

"What? How . . . oh. I see," Minerva said with a sigh. Her own men, at her signal, shook their tiny heads, dispirited, and slouched back to their own side of the board, and Albus flicked a finger at the board, bringing the white pieces back to their homes.

"It's early yet, Minerva. Another game?" Albus asked with a smile.

"Hmm, yes, I suppose, but what about some tea first? Something . . . sprightly?" Minerva suggested.

Albus laughed at the term, but agreed to a "sprightly" tea. He called Wilspy, and rather than request a specific tea, asked her to bring something sprightly. Wilspy giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, then popped away with a snap of her fingers.

Minerva leaned back. "I suppose I wasn't paying proper attention," she said. "Soon, you will believe that my father exaggerated my abilities in chess."

Albus chuckled. "No, indeed, you gave me a very good game. And soon you will learn all my tricks and see right through them."

Minerva shook her head, but she laughed, and said, "Unlikely, but I look forward to spending time trying!"

Tea arrived, and Minerva decided to take a sip before adding any sweetener or milk. She smiled. "Very interesting. I can taste some orange, and ginger, cardamom . . . rosehip, I believe. And . . ." She took another sip. "And lemon balm, perhaps?"

Albus chuckled. "You may never have excelled in Potions, at least not in comparison to your siblings and your Egidius and Parnovon kin, but you certainly have a Potions master's nose." He sniffed his tea again, not having yet tasted it. "I believe you have only left out . . . a touch of clove, and . . . anise – no a little fennel. Just a touch of both." He sipped the tea and nodded. "But otherwise, you were right on all counts!"

Minerva smiled and went warm with his approval. She watched as he added a little honey to his tea, though not as much as he usually did, perhaps because the tea was so highly flavoured without it.

"So, is this a sprightly tea, my dear?" Albus asked with a grin.

"Quite! Most definitely a canty one," Minerva said with a little laugh, raising her cup to her lips, her eyes smiling back at him.

"Perhaps a bit like you, then," Albus said with a wink, causing Minerva to laugh again and blush.