Eleven: Aftermath

Chapter Eleven: Aftermath

Severus dressed quickly, and he unceremoniously swept the clothing from the dresser into his bag, then took his one extra robe from the wardrobe, rolled it up, and stuffed it in. He grabbed his dressing gown and pyjamas and crammed them into one end of the bag. The two books of poetry sitting on the night stand caught his eye. They had been something of his father's, probably from school. They had spent the last decade and half sitting, gathering dust, in the corner of the bottom shelf of one of his bookcases. He hesitated a moment, but then his hand darted out and added them to his bag. The bag wouldn't close, but Severus took his wand and shrunk the contents enough so that he could pull the zip shut.

Severus glanced at the fireplace. He could Floo to his quarters from here, he supposed, but he needed to see Albus and let him know that Moody could Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk up to the castle so that he could be seen returning from Mongolia. He would use the sitting room fireplace to Floo to the Headmaster's office. The thought of seeing Albus created a nervous knot in his stomach. He had no clear idea what to say or to do when he saw him again. He certainly would not make the mistake he had made with Minerva. He was thankful that Minerva was the forgiving sort. He had been shocked when he awoke, feeling his normal, miserable self, and the memory of the past five days had rushed into his consciousness. He hadn't known what to say, so he had reacted on instinct – or habit – cultivated over years. He vowed to himself that, when he first saw Albus again, if he didn't know what to say, he wouldn't say anything at all – or he would at least admit that he had nothing to say. It had been a bizarre situation; Albus must surely recognise how difficult it would be for Severus to know how to react.

But how would Albus react? He had been kind, patient, and even Stoic, but Severus had no doubt that he had been very unhappy with the situation. Expressing that unhappiness would not have helped anything, though, and would simply have made things more difficult for Minerva. And given the state that Severus had been in, it would have been pissing in the wind to have tried to talk to him. Albus was likely quite angry with him; he probably had been angry ever since he had viewed the Pensieve memory and realised that Severus had allowed the argument to escalate without doing anything to stop it. Which then led to Severus spending the last five days touching, kissing, and uttering endearments to Albus's lover of several decades – Albus had said Minerva was his "beloved"; he surely was not pleased to have to share her, even if only temporarily. Severus decided that he could not expect a warm greeting from the old wizard. He should brace himself for a severe tongue-lashing.

Severus picked up his bag and stepped into the sitting room to Floo to the Headmaster's office, but he immediately saw that there was no need. The Headmaster was sitting in an armchair, smoking a pipe, a book open but unread on his lap.

"Professor Dumbledore – Albus . . . I was just coming to find you, sir," Severus said stiffly.

Albus looked at him for a moment, then took the pipe from his mouth. "Have a seat, Severus," he said quietly.

Severus perched on the edge of the sofa across from the older wizard. He remembered his resolve not to say anything if he didn't know what to say. And so he didn't.

The two wizards sat, neither of them speaking, for a few minutes, then Albus broke the silence. "I assume from your appearance that the Adfectus is gone."

Severus nodded.

"And how is my wife doing?"

A wave of shock passed over Severus. Not his paramour. Not just his lover. And not only his beloved. His wife. He should have known. "Your wife?" Severus said faintly, barely able to find his voice.

"Mmm. Minerva," Albus said. "How is she?"

"Dressing. She has showered, I believe. She shouldn't be long. I told her I would be leaving, and she went back into the bathroom. She is fine, I think . . ." He was still thinking of the words, "my wife." What had he done?

"Fine? You think?" asked Albus sharply.

"Um, she seems well," he said, still in shock. "She said she'd see me later, after her supposed illness was over." What did the man want to know?

Albus sat and looked at him, then looked down and fiddled with his pipe. "But was she all right – during, I mean . . . and after?"

Severus thought a moment. Truth would be best. And some kindness. And tact. The last would not be too difficult, and a good Slytherin knew that telling the truth was always best – it was what you chose to say and not to say that mattered. It was the kindness that might pose a problem. How would Minerva want him to handle it? Considering that would show him how to be kind.

"She was very kind during . . . considerate . . . and patient. She was Minerva. And after, she stayed while the spell dissipated. I slept some. When I woke up, I was confused and distressed. She was very patient with me." Severus paused, looking for a reaction from Albus. "If you are wondering about her physically, she is fine. I didn't hurt her . . . I wouldn't have." Severus swallowed. "Why didn't you tell me that she is your wife, Albus?"

"It was sufficiently complicated, and your knowing would have changed nothing about the spell. It only would have made it more difficult for you. And we generally do not tell anyone, even those who know that we are together. Partly because I believe it is safer for Minerva that way. It also helps us to maintain some privacy." Albus spoke slowly and deliberately; uncharacteristically, he looked away from Severus as he spoke, seeming to address his remarks to the guest room door.

"I see . . ." Severus's unease was becoming irritation and rapidly approaching resentment and anger. "So you tell me now . . . why? Why now? To make me feel worse than I already do? You have succeeded, if that was your intent, Albus." Severus shoved back into his seat and looked away from Albus. A lump formed in his throat and a knot in his stomach. It really shouldn't make a difference to him. It really shouldn't. But now he felt as though he had violated Minerva in a way that he hadn't felt before – she hadn't told him, and she no doubt believed he would never know. "Or is it because you feel the need to express your claim to her? I know very well that she is not mine and that she belongs to you."

"I don't know why I said it. Perhaps, as you say, to make clear that she is not available . . . although I know, intellectually, that is unnecessary. I don't believe I said it to hurt you, though, Severus. I hadn't even planned to phrase it that way." Albus sighed. "I am sorry if I did hurt you, though."

"No, I suppose you didn't do that intentionally. But subconsciously . . . you never have referred to her that way before, after all," Severus said, grimacing as the words "my wife" went through his head again.

"It is best not to develop that habit; I would not want to slip in public, after all," Albus explained quietly.

Severus shook his head and struggled for words. "You were willing to share her with me –"

"No." Albus heaved a sigh. "No, Severus, Minerva is not mine to share. Not that way. She shared herself. As she shares herself with me."

"I doubt that – not that she shared herself, Albus, but that there is any comparison between her relationship with you and what it was that she did for me to save my life."

Albus looked at him. "She does care for you, Severus," he said softly.

"Hmmpf." He shook his head. "Your wife. Well, this makes things even more complicated now, doesn't it?" Severus glanced at the bedroom door. "Our plans will need to change, Albus. You must now see the sense in it."

"No, I do not. We will proceed as we have. We will look at all the options. In the end, it may be that Fate presents us with the option we must take, no matter our plans. We should not speak of this here and now, however."

"We will speak of it, though, Albus."

"I have no doubt we will." Albus looked down at his pipe and banished it, then waved his hand to rid the room of the residual scent of tobacco. "Do you think she wants to see me?" he asked.

"Minerva? Of course she does. She just needed some time to get dressed and . . . to make the transition."

"I suppose we should go up to my office, then," Albus said with a sigh. "I will contact Moody. Moody will arrive in my office as you; you can then be seen leaving it as yourself. I'll have Moody Floo back to London from my office."

"That sounds fine, but I think that Minerva will want to see you. She can't leave here yet. You should stay."

"Mm. I will return when we are done."

Albus stood stiffly, pushing up on the armrest with his left hand. He went over to the table, where some of their research still sat, and found a blank piece of parchment to leave a note.

"Albus – I think you should stay. I can wait indefinitely in my rooms. No one will be looking for me there. There's no hurry," Severus said firmly.

"If you supposedly brew the potion tomorrow, you will be able to return to teaching on Friday. I would rather you not wait indefinitely, Severus."

"Just an hour or two, then. Wait for Minerva to come out. Or I can leave, and you can go in and see her."

Albus twitched slightly. "I think I'd rather not go in, Severus. I will leave her a note. It won't take us long. Moody is only at Grimmauld Place. He just has to step outside and Apparate here. And Minerva," he said, looking at the door, "probably needs her privacy now."

Severus bowed his head in reluctant acquiescence and followed Albus through the Floo to the Headmaster's office.

Less than a minute after Severus and Albus left, Minerva opened the door to the sitting room. It was just past five o'clock. Albus had said he would be here at five. She looked in their bedroom. Not there, either. He must have been in his office when Severus left; they were probably arranging his return to the school. That couldn't take long, although he might want to talk to Severus about the entire incident. She hoped he wouldn't be too hard on him. Severus had learned a few lessons from this, she was sure, and even if he forgot most of them, she did believe that he would be quicker to intervene the next time he saw students with their wands drawn and would not give them the opportunity to cast a spell.

Minerva moved to the table to gather up the parchments. She had an idea to publish an anonymous account of this at some point after the war was over, and she wanted to keep the parchments in order. Of course, to protect them all, she would have to alter a few of the details in order to keep their identities secret.

Albus's note stood apart from the other parchments. Minerva picked it up and read it.

"My dearest,

"A."

Minerva was hungry, but she didn't particularly want to eat alone. Dinner hadn't arrived yet, anyway, so she finished pulling the parchments together into a neat stack. Hermione Granger's letter caught her eye. It wasn't really research . . . and it was unlikely that Severus would want it. Minerva removed the letter from the stack. He probably would not want it, especially as it was a reminder of this largely regrettable episode in his life, but she would keep it for him in case he did. Offer it to him, anyway. She charmed it to read as a list of common potions ingredients.

Minerva Transfigured a scrap of parchment into a ribbon and tied the research together in a neat bundle. Just as she was putting the parchments with her things in the bedroom, she heard the tell-tale sounds of dinner arriving. Minerva quickly returned to the sitting room.

"Wilspy, I see you brought dinner . . . but there's only one serving." Albus had said not to wait for him, but when he'd said he'd be along later, she presumed he would be eating here.

"Professor Dumbledore said to bring you dinner. Professor Snape is with Professor Dumbledore, not here anymore. No dinner for Professor Snape."

"But Albus . . . "

"Professor Dumbledore not saying he's not eating in the Great Hall this evening."

"Oh." Minerva's heart fell. She swallowed. "Thank you, Wilspy. That will be all."

The house-elf winked out. Minerva examined the dinner. Typical Wednesday evening fare. Nothing appealed to her, and her hunger seemed to have left with Wilspy. He probably just had to look in at the Great Hall to keep up appearances, especially as he was so often absent. After all, even though she had asked that he return at five, there was no reason for any of them to have known that the spell would have been dissipated by then. He had probably planned on eating in the Great Hall. And when he got here, Severus was just leaving, purely coincidentally. It made sense for them to have left together. He would probably rejoin her for dessert. In the meantime, she would change her clothes. It hadn't occurred to her to bring another set of robes with her that morning. She had not even thought she'd be taking a shower in the small bathroom off the guest room.

Minerva called Wilspy and asked her to bring her favourite emerald green robes and the jewellery that she always wore with it. The robes had a deep v-neck, and she rarely wore them during the school year. After Severus had left, she had taken another shower and then put her hair up in a fancy chignon, rather than her plain bun or an ordinary chignon, so she left her hair as it was and just changed clothes and put on the gold and emerald necklace.

When she returned to the sitting room, she still wasn't hungry. It wasn't even six o'clock, though. She would just wait to eat until Albus arrived. Even if he'd eaten dinner, he'd keep her company and probably even join her for dessert. A nice dessert – something better than the plate of biscuits that had accompanied her meal.

"Wilspy!" Minerva called. Wilspy Apparated to her side in just moments. "Wilspy, when Albus arrives, I'd like you to bring us a nice dessert to share. Perhaps a Génoise with chocolate icing and whipped cream." A rather rich dessert, but one they both liked. And after all they had been through . . . "And bring a bottle of cognac." Minerva smiled at the house-elf. "Finally, a reason to celebrate, Wilspy."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore's Minerva. When do you want me to bring the dessert?"

"Oh, when he gets here would be fine. If I haven't eaten dinner, yet, it will keep. Or perhaps I'll be a bit bold and skip dinner and just eat the cake." Minerva grinned.

"Professor Dumbledore's Minerva should eat dinner!" Wilspy scolded.

"I'll be fine, Wilspy. I just want to wait for Albus. I'm not very hungry yet, anyway."

Minerva settled down on the sofa with a book. She tried to concentrate on reading, but she found herself repeatedly looking over to the fireplace in anticipation of Albus's return. She finally gave up trying to read and put the book down. Minerva didn't particularly want to think right then; if she did, either she would think about the events of the past five days, and she was sick to death of that, or else she would wonder where Albus was, why he hadn't returned yet, and whether there was anything wrong.

Minerva stood and paced, trying not to worry about why Albus hadn't appeared yet. Finally, at seven-thirty, Minerva called Wilspy.

"Wilspy, if Albus isn't with anyone, could you ask him to come see me, please?" She was beginning to worry that what was wrong had nothing to do with the school or their ruse, but with his own discomfort at seeing her after she had been with Severus. The longer he waited, the more uncomfortable it would be for him. "And wait to bring the Génoise until I call for it."

Less than two minutes later, Albus stepped from the fireplace. "Wilspy said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I've been waiting for a while, and I finally called for you because I was worried." Minerva stepped toward him, reaching out to touch his arm. "I didn't know whether there was a problem with Moody or if you perhaps didn't want to see me . . ."

"No, the change went smoothly. Moody made it to the office by five-thirty, so Severus and I were able to go to dinner together. I made an announcement that Severus would be brewing your potion tomorrow and would return to teaching on Friday. He and Remus, to my surprise, actually sat next to each other and conversed quite civilly. About nothing of consequence, but I thought it was progress. I had not expected that of Severus; once the Adfectus was gone, I assumed he would be unhappy that Remus had substituted for him."

Well, he was answering her question . . . sort of. But he wasn't saying anything of importance to either of them. She didn't care whether Snape and Lupin had hexed each other or had gone off together for a bugger. All she wanted to know was whether Albus had wanted to see her or not. When she'd asked if he would still want her after she done it with Severus, he had told her he would. But there had to be a problem, one that was not school-related, that had kept him from joining her sooner.

Minerva sighed inwardly. She was so emotionally exhausted after the last five days; she knew that Albus must be, too, in his own way, but she wished he had been more open with her about whatever bothered him before now, rather than waiting. For she was now sure that was what he had done, despite his protestations. He probably hadn't even thought about the fact that he was bottling it up. Compartmentalising his emotions when he thought they might interfere with his work or his relationships was almost as much of a habit with Albus as Severus's knee-jerk nastiness was for him, but Minerva had thought that they had long since got past it when it came to their own relationship. But this had been an unusually stressful event. And he had wanted to protect her, as well. She never should have assumed he was doing as well as he appeared to be, but she'd had so much to deal with herself, between her own feelings and Severus's, in addition to having to be available to Severus every hour or so to moon over.

"Albus," she said, taking his arm gently, "let's go sit." They went over to the couch, Minerva carefully sitting on his left so she could take his hand. "Well, I'm glad there was no problem with Moody, but you didn't answer the second half of my question."

"What was that?" Albus asked, eyebrows raised.

Minerva blinked. Perhaps that had been it, then. He hadn't wanted to see her. For whatever reason. Well, whatever that reason was, she wasn't going to ignore it. She swallowed, not knowing if she really wanted to know his answer anymore, but knowing that she had to. "I said I was worried because I didn't know whether there was a problem with Moody or if you hadn't wanted to see me."

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?"

"I can think of several reasons, but I only want to know if you didn't . . . or if something else kept you away. I came out just after five o'clock, after my shower, hoping you would be here. I did find your note, of course . . . I knew you had been here, but your note didn't say very much and then Wilspy delivered only one dinner . . . I was worried."

"I told you to go ahead with dinner. I didn't expect to be back for it." Albus paused. "Severus said you had taken a shower already . . . Severus had been out here talking to me for several minutes. I thought you might be putting off coming out here to see me, Minerva. We left a minute or two after five. You asked me to come . . . and I said I would be here at five. I thought perhaps . . . you needed your privacy."

"You did? Well, I had taken a shower. I took another one. And I came out only a few minutes past five, myself; we must have just missed each other. I was not putting off seeing you. I was disappointed you weren't here." Minerva bit back the rest of her comment about her disappointment that he didn't seem to care to share dinner with her, her first meal in freedom since she had eaten lunch on Friday. She felt as though she had been released from bondage; she had wanted to celebrate with Albus. Instead, she'd gotten a single serving of mashed potatoes, green beans, and sliced turkey with pumpkin juice and plain wheat biscuits.

"I said I would be along later, to eat without me."

"I know." Minerva was quiet. She was torn between her own hurt and her desire to make sure that Albus was all right. "So, it was busy, then, dinner?"

"Yes, fairly. I think the students were pleased that Severus was back – not happy to see him, but pleased that your potion was going to be prepared tomorrow. They miss you."

Minerva wanted to ask if he had missed her, too, but instead asked, "And after dinner?"

"Well, I paid a visit to the infirmary, supposedly to tell you that Severus had returned, then I went to my office."

"Did you have a nice visit with me in the infirmary, Albus?" Minerva asked, trying to make a joke.

Albus smiled slightly. "You were happy to hear that you'd be getting a new potion tomorrow."

"Mmm. And did you want to come visit me? Here, I mean, really – I just need to know," she said softly. He certainly hadn't seemed to be in any hurry to come back to the suite.

"Of course I did, my dear. I just thought I'd give you some quiet, some time to make the transition, as Severus put it."

Minerva bristled and sat up, stiffening her back in anger. "Did that man tell you to stay away from me? If he so much as hinted –"

"No, no. To the contrary." Albus averted his eyes. "He suggested I stay. He said he could wait in his rooms a few hours for me."

"Oh. Would it have made that much difference if he had gone to his rooms for a while?" Minerva's heart had dropped to her stomach. Had her actions helping Severus created a rift between them? She could deal with Severus rejecting her, but not Albus.

"No, I suppose not. But I do have more work to do, my dear. And I had thought to do it before retiring this evening. It still is waiting for me in my office."

Minerva looked at him, incredulous. Her first hours of freedom, and he wanted to go to his office and do work. No, it must be something else, he must simply not be able to bring himself to tell her that he didn't want to be there with her.

"All right, Albus. If that is what you need to do . . . I had looked forward to spending the evening with you, though," she said, trying one more time to express her desire for him to stay without sounding entirely selfish.

"We will spend time together." He patted her leg. "I promise."

"You could bring your work back with you. Do it here. I could help you." She wished she hadn't said that; now, if he were to decline, it would give her the answer she dreaded.

"No, I think not. Not tonight, anyway. Perhaps tomorrow." Albus stood and headed toward the Floo. He stopped a moment, looking at the table. "You didn't eat your dinner."

Her voice tight as she tried not to cry, Minerva said, "Wasn't hungry."

"You should eat, my dear. I will see you later." Albus took a pinch of Floo-Powder and was away in a flash of green.

The second he was gone, tears leaked from her eyes until they became a steady stream. Minerva sat on the couch, hugged a pillow to herself, and wept. This was nightmarish. She had thought the nightmare had begun when Severus had stepped up to her and red and gold sparks had flown from his body and that it had finally ended when he had left the bedroom that afternoon. But it hadn't. This was far worse than anything else that had occurred as a result of that awful curse. Had she destroyed the thing that gave her life and not mere existence? But Albus had said he wanted Severus to live. When she had asked about what he would do if she were unable to go through with the sex, Albus had not seemed relieved at that prospect, but grieved. If he had asked her not to do it, though, she would have abided by his wishes, as much as it would have plagued her to allow a man – a friend – to die if she could have prevented it. There was no right way to have behaved in this situation. She had to save Severus's life; she believed that Albus truly agreed that she had to. And yet . . . Albus couldn't even stay in the same room with her. If Minerva had felt defiled before, now she felt degraded, as well.

Perhaps they had not spoken often enough these last few days, but there were precious few opportunities . . . and when she had given him the opportunity to talk to her, he hadn't taken it. Minerva wished she had known that Albus would react like this. She had thought that he was trying to protect her by not speaking to her about his feelings, but now . . . she should have just let Severus take that potion, she thought in a moment of bitterness. Better that than to lose Albus.

Minerva dragged herself from the sofa and went into the bedroom that she shared with Albus. She couldn't look at his dressing gown and nightshirt – she would never cease crying if she did. Another shower might help. She kicked off her shoes and headed toward the bathroom.

"Minerva?" His voice came from the open doorway.

She turned, wiping her face, knowing she must look a mess. She cleared her throat. "Yes? Did you forget something, Albus?"

"I forgot . . . I forgot to tell you that I was sorry."

"Sorry?" Minerva walked over to him.

"Yes . . . I feel . . . I feel as though I have failed you. I am not the wizard I once was. I should have been able to find a solution for the Adfectus; I should have been able to save you; I should be able to please you as I used to . . . I am sorry," he ended in a whisper.

Minerva listened, somewhat stunned, forgetting her own hurt in the face of his. She knew that Albus had an out-sized sense of responsibility, but this was absurd. And that business about pleasing her?

"Albus, you have nothing to feel sorry about. There was no solution. You could have worked without ceasing on only that problem for the past five days and done nothing else; you would not have found a solution. And whatever it is you mean by not pleasing me as you used to – and I do have an idea of what you may mean by it – you should put that out of your head completely. There is not one iota of sense in that. As I would show you if you let me." Minerva stroked his cheek; tears rose again in her eyes and she blinked them away. "I thought you believed in me, that you had faith in me – and in us, Albus."

"I do . . . it's simply that this incident has shone a light on something that was true even before Severus was struck by that spell. I am making mistakes I should not make; I have lost my hand and cannot touch you as I used to; I leave you for days, even weeks, at a time, and you accept it without complaint, despite the fact that my absence leaves you to run the school. I could not find a solution to the Adfectus. I am not the wizard I once was, Minerva. I am not the wizard you fell in love with. It would hardly be a surprise if you would prefer me to . . . leave you alone. I certainly have earned your reproach."

Minerva stared up at him for a moment, flabbergasted. "Albus, you need more sleep. I know that may sound like a ridiculous response to what you have said, but it is the only one I have that makes any sense at all. I don't even know where to begin addressing what you claim . . . You have always made mistakes, as have we all, though fewer than most, and you have always taken every mistake very hard. You should give yourself some of that forgiveness you give so freely to others, my love. I thought we had worn out that conversation, but I see we have not. And you most assuredly have not earned my reproach. "

Minerva sighed as she put her arms around him and squeezed him, pulling him to her. "And your hand . . . oh, Albus, it pains me so that you have that injury. I would gladly cut off both my hands to be able to restore your own to you. But not because of any benefit you seem to think that I may get from it, but because it causes you pain and now it is causing you to have self-doubt – whether about your magical abilities waning or about pleasing me. And neither could be further from the truth, my love. That curse would have killed almost anyone else in the wizarding world. I am very glad that it did not claim you." Minerva fought the tears that always came when she thought of how she might have lost him that day. "And you say that you are not the wizard I fell in love with. If you consider only the changes that time has wrought, you are no more the wizard I fell in love with than I am the witch you fell in love with; yet to me, you are still the wizard I fell in love with, and with whom I fall in love over and over again, every day. I love you so, Albus!" The tears she had been fighting came to her eyes. "And what would you have me say when you leave for all those days at a time? You will not tell me all that you are doing on these trips – not even after one of them almost killed you. Would you have me ask you not to go? Not to leave me? I could not ask you to make that choice – whichever you chose, it would hurt you. If you were to leave anyway, you would feel guilty and it would cause a rift between us. If you were to stay, you would feel you were not doing what you need to do to rid the world of Voldemort, and you would not be happy with yourself. I would never ask you not to do what you believe you must, but I have never pretended to be pleased you are leaving. So how could you have any thought that I do not care that you are gone? When you return, I am so happy to have you back safe with me . . . so happy, Albus, that what complaint do I have to make? The extra work? No, I am glad to do that for you . . . I have believed I was doing the right thing for you, supporting you, enabling you to do what you must do. How could I possibly make it harder for you by complaining? I never doubted that you would have preferred to be here with me instead of off on your trips even though you never told me so. How could you doubt me? Do you truly believe that the only alternative explanation for my lack of complaint is that I do not care whether you are here or not?"

Tears flowed down Minerva's face as she looked up at Albus and saw his own eyes bright with tears. "I cannot describe to you the joy I feel when the wards tingle and shift and I know you have returned. If I am teaching, it is all I can do to keep from running from the class to find you. I have always tried to make the first evening you are back especially nice for you, whatever it is you need from me. When you are not here, I wear your nightshirt to bed. When your absence is extended and I do not know where you are, I worry that you are hurt, or worse. And all I can do is wait for you to return and do my best to run the school in your absence. I thought you were . . . proud of me, at least, for that," she choked out the last sentence.

Albus put his arms around her. "I am proud of you. And I do love you; you know that," he whispered. "I never did doubt you, not really. I never believed you were happier without me here, not until today. But today . . . I tried to imagine what you were doing . . . and if I tried not to imagine it, my thoughts would return to it, anyway, and then I just kept thinking of all of the ways I had failed you, how you would be justified to reproach me for my failures. And then I thought . . . perhaps you wouldn't reproach me because he could satisfy you in ways . . ." He choked slightly. "I know you didn't want him before, but what if you wanted him now?" Minerva shook her head against his chest.

"I was unable to save you from having to do it. I should have been able to do that for you, Minerva. And I feared that you would blame me for it. Either you would want him or you would blame me. Either way, I worried I was not welcome."

Minerva's arms tightened around him even more. "You dear, sweet, and very foolish wizard! Why didn't you tell me all of this earlier? I tried to reassure you before, but I might have known better what to say if you had talked to me!" Minerva pulled him over to the bed; Albus followed willingly.

"I had been keeping busy. I hadn't wanted to think too much about it." Albus needed no urging to lie down on the bed beside Minerva. "There was no question that, if you were able to do this for Severus, it was a good thing. I did not want him to die of that ill-cast spell, for so many reasons, and I did hope that he would experience some of your genuine love before it was all over . . . but as time went on, I could see how he showered you with affection." Minerva pulled him closer as he spoke.

"Even on Friday evening, I knew that it was quite likely there was no cure for the spell but the one which you could provide him; yet as his attentions increased, I thought of all that I used to do for you, and that now, whether through circumstance or infirmity, I am unable to do. It wasn't even that he touched you that bothered me so, although I would be lying if I were to tell you it did not make me somewhat uncomfortable. It was that it was not I who was touching you that bothered me most, and it was not I who was spending hour upon hour with you, showering you with the attention you deserve, and which I have given you only in such sparing amounts of late. But I knew that the spell had to run its course. There was nothing I could do or say about my discomfort that would not make the situation harder for you, and I could not spend time with you, shower you with attention, when Severus needed you . . . On the other hand, I did not want to appear not to care, as you had feared I might when you asked me whether I would" – Albus swallowed and kissed her hair – "have you be with Severus even if you did not wish to be. I also did not want to add to your burden by telling you of my own difficulties with the situation. And I really did not believe my difficulties were that great. I do care for Severus – and trust him – and I was truthful when I said I would rather it were he than some other wizard, but somehow, despite that, I felt . . . jealous, I suppose. Something I can honestly say that I have rarely felt in my life. But it was you, my dearest love," Albus said, caressing Minerva's face, "and I was unprepared for the effect it would have on me over time. Even though I did not witness most of his demonstrations of affection, I knew they were occurring and that they were growing in intensity and intimacy. I was so torn. I felt sympathy for you both, and on one level, I was happy that you were helping him; I was even truly pleased that he was receiving affection from you. On another level, though, I was very unhappy with the entire situation. I simply didn't allow myself to reflect on what bothered me about it.

"It didn't help that I was, and still am, angry with Severus for allowing this to happen. He couldn't have known, of course, what spell Pansy would cast, but he allowed the argument to get out of hand. When teenagers are involved in an emotional argument, you never know what kind of hexes they might throw. He knows that. Yet for me to have blamed him when he was already suffering . . . it didn't seem fair. But most of all, I did not want to hurt you, my love."

"I wish you had talked to me, nonetheless, Albus." Minerva's arms were around him, and Albus settled his head on her shoulder as she pulled him even closer to her and stroked his hair. "We could have shared the burden. I would have felt more free to discuss my own discomfort with the situation – not just discomfort, but my distress – with you. You may have taken some solace in the fact that I was not happy, myself. I tried my best to . . . enjoy aspects of it, as you suggested – and correctly so, or I never would have been able to force myself to do what needed to be done. But you would have been able to understand that I was forcing myself. It was a choice I made only because the other choices were unacceptable, not because I wanted Severus's attentions that way. It became quite tedious at times. Boring, even."

"Boring? Having a wizard read you poetry, tell you he loves you, shower you with kisses, and give you massages was boring?" Albus raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to look at her.

"Having any wizard but you do those things was tedious, boring, and even annoying. Especially on the schedule that the imperative imposed. If it hadn't been for the sleeping potion you provided, I am sure it would have driven me mad before it could have affected Severus!" she said with a smile. "Just imagine if some witch were hit by that spell and was at you every hour or so with proclamations of love, telling you how wonderful you are, kissing you and touching you. I hope you would find that tedious, as well, Albus!"

"Unless that witch were you, I would." He smiled. "I doubt I could find anything you did to be tedious, my dear."

"Hmm, perhaps," Minerva replied, laying her head against his. "We still need to talk more, but I am beginning to get hungry now that I'm not worried that you think my contact with Severus defiled me – you don't think that, do you?"

"Nothing could defile you, Minerva. Nothing." Albus raised his head and kissed her, softly, slowly, then with increasing passion, holding her to him tightly. He finally pulled away with a slight moan and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Minerva McGonagall. Forever, completely and utterly. Above all others." He held her in his arms a moment more, eyes closed, savouring the feel of her warmth and softness against him. With a deep sigh, he loosened his hold and looked down at her. "You still need your dinner, my dear."

"Yes, and I didn't eat much today, so I'm hungry," Minerva replied as they got up from the bed.

"Didn't you have lunch?" Albus took her arm and led her into the sitting room.

"No, nor breakfast. I had a half a sandwich part way through the afternoon." Minerva noticed a peculiar expression cross Albus's face; there and gone again, it was almost never there. "What is it, Albus?"

"Hmm? What? Nothing, my dear. Now this doesn't look very appetising anymore –"

Minerva turned him around. "Don't change the subject, Albus. Something is wrong. What is it?"

Albus blinked and looked away, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. "Nothing, really. Just . . . foolishness."

"Well, I've heard foolishness before. Tell me, Albus." When he just stood there, looking uncomfortably across the sitting room to the guest room door, Minerva took his arm and said, "You need to tell me whatever it is, foolish or not, Albus. Please."

His voice a hoarse whisper, he replied, "It is a very long time since we made love all day and forgot to eat . . ."

Minerva stared at him, open-mouthed, then chuckled bitterly. "Oh, Albus, I am not laughing at what you said, not exactly, and certainly not at your worries, but at what you are implying!" She guided him to a chair, embraced him, and kissed his cheek. "Sit, Albus, please. Oh, my. Well, let me reassure you, quite definitively, that the reason I skipped breakfast and lunch today was nothing like the reason you are suggesting." She took a deep breath and continued. "I really don't want to say anything that would embarrass Severus, you must understand that, Albus," she said as she took his hand. "But I missed breakfast because I was too unpleasantly nervous to eat – not out of excitement at the prospect of what lay ahead – and we skipped lunch because I just wanted the whole thing over with and didn't want to take the time to eat. I finally got hungry, and, although Severus's attention was clearly on something other than food, I began to think of what we might have to eat. When we did eat, it was not only because I was hungry, but also because I just needed a break from being groped. It was not the . . . passionate, exciting day you are probably envisioning, Albus. I did my best to . . . not hate it. That was the only way I could get through it without feeling disgusted by the whole thing. But, despite all the effort I had put in over the past few days to get used to it and relax under his touch, it was actually less . . . enjoyable than I had hoped I could make it – probably because I knew how it was going to end, and I was not looking forward to that at all. Except, of course, because it would finally mean freedom."

"Oh. Hmm. I would like to say I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it more, Minerva . . . but as long as it wasn't completely awful, I can't say I'm unhappy." Albus looked uncomfortable. "That's not very kind of me."

"I think I'd be a little disturbed if you hoped it was even half as good as what we have when we're together, Albus."

"Half as good?" Albus looked at her. "I don't . . . I shouldn't ask, but . . ."

"Albus, nowhere near you. At all. But you know you are in a class by yourself." Minerva smirked slightly and added, "But even just considering my very hazy memory of what it was like before you . . . he would not have made the top two amongst them – although, to be fair to Severus, part of that may have been my own inability to engage with him and let go. He has potential, though, and I think someday he might make a witch happy, if he ever has the opportunity."

"Ah, well, I didn't really need to know that. I mean, I'm glad to know it. But you didn't need to tell me."

"Ha! If you didn't need to know, you wouldn't have been so concerned that we spent the day in a state of frenzied, ecstatic passion, Albus. You silly, adorable wizard, as though anyone could make me feel anything like what I feel when I'm with you." Minerva smiled at him indulgently, and he grinned back, both relieved and amused.

"Well, you should cut the poor boy some slack, Minerva; after all, I am much more experienced . . . especially when it comes to pleasing you." He smiled, his fingers caressing her hand.

"Mmm. Of course, dearheart. As though he could ever match you in that department!" Minerva winked and patted his arm. "But I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Nothing to clear up, my dear," Albus replied with an air of deliberate insouciance. "I never had a care in the world!" He chuckled at himself, and she joined him. "You know, my dear, your first suggestion may have actually been quite astute."

Minerva furrowed her brow. "What was that, Albus?"

"That I needed more sleep. I think if I had been better rested, my concerns would not have seemed as . . . magnified as they were. They wouldn't have disappeared altogether, but you are right. I am tired. And more prone to take myself too seriously."

"Hmmpf. We still need to talk more about that. But now I am hungry, my love. And tired. Wilspy!" Minerva called.

"Wilspy," Minerva said to the elf when she appeared before her, "bring us dessert. We are going to celebrate our freedom!"

Wilspy shivered a bit at that final word, but she smiled broadly to see her two Professors looking happy and without that strangely nice Professor Snape anywhere near. "Yes, ma'am, Professor Dumbledore's Minerva!"

"Dessert?"

"Yes, I ordered a special dessert for us, Albus. I thought you'd be coming here directly from the Great Hall and we could share it. Celebrate together." Minerva's eyes teared up at the memory of her recent hurt and feelings of rejection.

"I see. And I didn't come, and then I didn't stay. I am sorry, Minerva," he said softly. "I did not intend to hurt you. I simply did not know what to say or do. And I didn't know if you really wanted to see me or not."

"Don't apologise. I know you would never intentionally hurt me. And you are here now."

"I began to realise as soon as I left that there was something wrong. You hadn't eaten dinner. And you had said you wanted me to stay. More than once. It couldn't have been just to be polite."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Albus, when have you known me – in the last thirty-five years, anyway – ever to say anything to you merely to be polite?"

"Well, considering your clearly-voiced opinions of one of my favourite robes, I would say . . . you haven't!" He smiled and took her hand. "I also should have known you had been expecting me because you were all dressed up. You look quite beautiful, my dear."

"Thank you, Albus." Minerva smiled.

Minerva's uneaten dinner disappeared from the table, replaced by an elaborately moulded Génoise with dark chocolate icing drizzled over it and a large bowl of thickly whipped cream. A bottle of cognac and two snifters joined the cake.

"If you haven't eaten much today, Minerva, you should probably not have anything to drink."

"You are ridiculous, Albus," she grumbled, but happily. "Follow your own advice, and then I may follow it. Besides, this cake is rich enough for two meals!"

Albus simply grinned and allowed Minerva to serve them two overly large pieces of cake with huge dollops of whipped cream. He poured them each some cognac.

Minerva lifted her glass to him. "To freedom and to the return to the one I love."

Albus lifted his glass to her and blinked back tears. After sipping from the snifter, he said, "I am glad you are understanding and forgiving, my dear."

"How could I not be, with you, at least?" she answered. "Come, no more seriousness for now. Let's enjoy the cake and each other's company. We will have a lot of time to talk over the next few days . . ." Minerva paused as she raised her fork to her mouth. "Of course, I'll be stuck here the whole time. Unless I really want to go to the infirmary." She sighed and put her fork down without taking a bite.

"I think the infirmary would be quite dull, Minerva, and you couldn't easily go back and forth. When I finally return you there, you will have to remain there, I am afraid. But there is no reason for you to be entirely alone here – eat some cake, my dear, it's delicious – I can give Poppy the password and she can visit now that Severus isn't here. And if you would like, Severus could come back and visit tomorrow whilst he's supposedly brewing your potion. No need for you to be bored and lonely all by yourself here."

"Albus, I do appreciate your . . . generosity in offering to have Severus stay with me, but, and please don't tell him this, I am sick to death of spending time with him – even though he wasn't himself. Not to mention the fact that, given he's just been released from the spell and is no doubt feeling very uncomfortable with his behaviour of the last five days, I doubt he would want to spend any time with me right now. If I'm uncomfortable with it, he surely must be." Minerva sighed and played with her whipped cream. "I suppose that Poppy could visit, though, as you say."

"As long as I have plenty of time with you, I think that would be lovely for you, Minerva."

She looked up, questioning.

"I do not want to leave your NEWTs and OWLs classes entirely without a teacher, and I do have a few other things I must do, but I think that I can arrange to spend most of my time here over the next few days. We shall see."

Minerva smiled brightly. "Oh, I would like that, Albus! We have had so little time together recently."

Albus grinned. "Well, since that idea was so well-received, I shall do what I can to spend as much time with you as possible until you are recovered from your 'grave illness.'"

"I would like that, Albus. I would like that very much."

Albus got a look in his eye at that moment, one which Minerva recognised quite well – he had an idea and was up to something. But she had to pretend not to have a clue, as he always liked to surprise her completely, so she just took another bite of cake.

"My dear, I do promise to return as quickly as I can, but I truly do have a few things of vital importance that I must take care of tonight. Would you mind terribly if I were to leave now – well, as soon as I've finished my cake – to take care of them? I will return to continue this celebration of our freedom just as soon as I am able."

"Of course, Albus. Now that I am reassured that you do want to be here with me and that you don't . . . well, think less of me somehow for what I did –"

"Oh, my dearest, how could you ever believe I would think less of you? You did what you had to to save Severus's life!"

"Well, I don't now, I guess, but when you left before, and you didn't really touch me, I felt . . . sullied, I suppose. I thought you might not want to touch me after . . ."

Albus pushed his chair away from the table and swung his legs around. He reached out his left hand to her. "Come here, Minerva. Come here, please."

Minerva let him pull her onto his lap. She let out a relieved and happy sigh as she lay her head on his shoulder and put her arms around his neck.

"I told you this before, Minerva, but I want to say it again now, so there is no mistake," Albus said quietly. "Nothing could sully you. Nothing could defile you. And nothing could make me lose my desire to be with you, to touch you, to kiss you, and to hold you."

Minerva placed her hand on the side of his head and looked into his bright eyes before she kissed him. "Mmm. It is so wonderful to kiss you, Albus." She sighed with happiness and relief as she kissed him again, threading her fingers through his hair, pulling him to her, not wanting to stop. Finally, though, she leaned back and looked at him. "I don't particularly want to let you go, but I suppose the sooner I do, the sooner you will return."

His face was relaxed into a contented smile. "I don't want to leave, but I will return – as quickly as I am able, my dear," Albus replied, giving her one last kiss before letting her go so she could stand.

"Will you be seeing Severus?"

"I plan to; why?"

"I have something for him . . . it's just the letter that Hermione wrote. He probably won't want to keep it, but I thought I'd give it to him, anyway. Allow him to dispose of it as he sees fit."

"I doubt he will want a reminder of his ordeal, but I will give it to him."

Minerva fetched the letter, then told him, "I altered it to look like a list of potions ingredients, but the password is the same – 'Phoenix' – if he cares to read it again."

"All right, my dear." He kissed her cheek, then looked at her a moment, and kissed her lips softly. "I will try not to be long."

Minerva caressed his cheek. "I look forward to your return."