Chapter Five

Note: Not DH compliant. Disregards DH entirely.

Chapter Five

Minerva leaned back against one end of the tub, and Albus, after he swung the Charmed faucet out of his way, leaned against the other. The water was deep, clear, refreshingly scented, and the temperature perfect. Once they were both in, the water had overflowed, but Albus stopped Minerva from Summoning her wand to clean it up.

"It's fine, Minerva. I'll take care of it before we get out." He grinned. "I think we'll be doing a bit more splashing." He emphasised his point by flicking some water at her.

"I think I'd like to see you make waves, Albus," Minerva responded, bringing her foot to his still-erect penis and pressing against it with her sole. She grinned naughtily as she observed his reaction. His penis seemed a bit longer than her foot from its base, and she slid the ball of her foot up his length, then curled her toes over the tip and pressed again.

Albus gave a low growl and grabbed her ankle. He raised her foot to his mouth and kissed each toe, then he pulled, dunking Minerva beneath the water, creating more waves. Minerva sat up, spluttering and laughing.

"You think you can tease me?" Albus asked. "And I haven't forgotten about my 'adequate' kiss earlier today! Come here, witch!"

He pulled gently on her ankle, this time not too hard, and Minerva moved toward him on her own as he let her go. She knelt, straddling his legs, and reached for his cock.

"I think that your spell needs to be . . . taken advantage of," she said, closing her hand around him.

She leaned forward and kissed him, gently and sensuously, bringing his lips between hers and sucking at them as she began to stroke his penis. She licked their lips as she pleasured him, then introduced her tongue into his mouth, her hand and arm moving faster, the water lapping the edges of the tub and spilling over. Her tongue teased his, then she drew his between her lips and began to suck the tip of his tongue in rhythm with her strokes of his cock. She moaned in answer to his groaning sigh as she felt his cock pulse against her hand as he came, the spell still in place.

Still kissing him, Minerva held onto the edge of the tub and moved forward, intending to lower her crux onto his erection, but Albus caught hold of her buttocks with both hands and pulled her toward him, breaking their kiss as he caused her to rise up out of the water, straight up on her knees.

He kissed her stomach, circling her navel with his tongue, then he looked up at her and said, "Hold on."

Minerva kept her hands on the sides of the tub as he pushed her back so that she was half-lying in the water, her hair floating around her head. Albus rose up on his own knees, then he slid forward, his hands still at her buttocks, and he found her entrance with the tip of his penis.

Albus looked at her, her skin flushed, her lips parted, her eyes dark. "Oh, my dear, I love you. I love you, Minerva."

Holding onto the edge of the tub with one hand and one arm under Minerva, Albus pushed into her with a moan, closing his eyes. He opened them again. "You wanted me to make waves . . . what do you think of these waves?"

He began to move in and out of her, sliding against the tub as he did, the water rising and falling as he drove his cock into her again and again. Minerva's breath began to come in gasps, and Albus paused a moment to raise her ankles to his shoulders, and in this new position, he thrust up, over and over, watching her face as Minerva came again, contracting tightly around his cock as she shouted. Albus whispered a Finite, and after three more thrusts, he came, emptying himself, his orgasm seeming almost infinitely long as he released his cum into her.

Panting and gasping, exhausted, Albus sat back on his heels, leaning against the back of the tub again as Minerva pushed herself into a sitting position, looking at him with glazed eyes. She blinked and swallowed, then looked at the water in the bathtub. Softly at first, then more loudly, she began to laugh. Half of the water was now no longer in the bathtub, but was flowing across the floor.

"I hope the ceiling doesn't leak, or the floor," Minerva said as Albus opened his eyes to find out what Minerva was laughing at.

"Hmm?" He lifted his head, looked at the bathroom floor, then closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned back again. "Charmed."

"Charmed?"

"The floor."

Minerva smiled. Albus had completely exhausted himself. Perhaps it was time for those potions he'd mentioned bringing, and for a real wash and then bed.

A half hour later, they had each washed, more or less, and taken a small vial of iridescent peacock-blue potion, and Minerva had used her wand to dry the floor before they stepped out of the bathtub. Dry now and with a dressing gown wrapped around him, Albus began to unpack the clothes he had brought with him, not having taken the time to do it before. Minerva had left him half of each of the first three drawers, rather than taking any drawers to herself.

Albus looked in each of the drawers until he found an empty one on the bottom and began to put his things away in it.

"What are you doing?" Minerva asked.

"Unpacking, my dear."

"But why are you using the bottom drawer? It's not very convenient, and I left space in the other three."

"Oh, I thought this would be easier," Albus replied. He had never shared drawers before.

"You said you didn't have any preference."

"And I don't," he replied, stuffing the last of the articles into a corner and closing the drawer. He turned to her with a smile. "This is fine."

Minerva shook her head. He obviously didn't want to share. No point in taking offense. He had been a widower for nigh on a century, after all. She went over to the dresser and took all of her things from the second drawer and put them in the third.

"There, now you don't have to have everything stuffed into the bottom drawer," she said.

"You didn't need to do that." Albus was hanging his robes in the wardrobe.

"Here, I'll move half of your things into the second drawer. It will be more convenient, and neater."

"No, don't. I'll do it in a minute."

Minerva had already opened the bottom drawer. Well, perhaps there was some particular way he liked to organise things – although the bottom drawer was rather a mess, with everything just dumped and stuffed. Perhaps he had had a house-elf too long.

"I don't mind, really, Albus."

"It is fine – I'll take care of it."

He came over and began to take a handful of socks and put them in the second drawer. "There's really not enough here for more than one drawer, anyway, my dear. But thank you for making more room!"

"That's fine. I had thought we'd share, though. I hadn't intended that you think I had taken three drawers."

"You need more room, anyway, with your underthings. Mine are mostly socks, handkerchiefs, a few vests, in case it gets cool. And, of course, my night attire. But I'll be wearing that." He pulled out a red- and gold-striped nightshirt and sent it over to the bed. "I just am not used to sharing drawers."

"You shared the wardrobe," Minerva pointed out.

"That's different." He didn't know why, precisely, but it was. Each garment seemed to hang in its own space, with no danger of mingling with any other garments. Drawers were more fraught with danger; things could become mixed together. He might have to look for his socks or a handkerchief and find himself up to his elbows in knickers and frilly camisoles and who-knew-what else. The mere thought made him fight a blush. "Before we return again, I'll get us another dresser. And perhaps another wardrobe."

"You don't need to do that, not unless you think we'll be spending months here. Two drawers are more than sufficient, and there's still space in the wardrobe," Minerva replied. The wardrobe was an enormous old piece of furniture. She remembered her thought about the convenience of a dressing table, but decided not to mention it. "We don't want to overwhelm the room with unnecessary furniture. Let's just wait and talk about it after we get home – to Hogwarts."

Minerva hadn't thought she would wear a nightgown that night, but she had brought one with her, and when Albus took out his nightshirt, she decided that she was glad she had. It was her favourite summer nightgown, a pale, pearlescent silk, rather than the batiste she usually favoured, and unlike most of her nightgowns, even her lightweight summer ones, this one had no sleeves, and it had lacy insets in the bodice. It was thin and loose, seeming to float over her body when she put it on, and she hoped that Albus would like it. When Melina returned from her honeymoon, perhaps she would like to go lingerie shopping. Melina seemed to know more about such things than she did. Not that she would tell her why she was interested in purchasing pretty nightgowns, of course. Her young niece still saw Albus as her former Hogwarts Transfiguration teacher, a genial, courtly old wizard, and Minerva didn't want to have to explain things to her just yet.

Albus was now placing his brushes and a small bottle of lotion on the side of the dresser Minerva had left for him. He Summoned his wand from the pocket of the robes he had worn that day and placed it neatly beside the brushes. Minerva always kept hers on her bedside table, and she mentioned that.

"I do when I'm elsewhere, as well, as one never knows what one may awaken to, but here, I am a bit more complacent, I suppose," Albus said. He looked over at the bed. There was only one table, and it was on the right side, the side they had decided would be his. He furrowed his brow. That wasn't right.

Albus picked up his wand. He waved his left hand and the bench across the room rose and floated toward the bed. He swished his wand and the bedside table vanished then reappeared on the left side of the bed as the bench settled down where the table had been. Albus smiled. Much better.

Minerva watched Albus's coordination with admiration. Neither individual task was particularly difficult, but as with most things Albus did, he did it with so much grace and flair, seemingly effortlessly, and yet without any apparent recognition of how much talent he was exhibiting. Although he did have a bit of a show-off in him, it never manifested in these ordinary, everyday situations; he simply did them without thought, which made it all the more amazing to her.

"There you are, my dear! Now you have a place for your wand, and your book and reading glasses, as well!" Albus said, turning to her with a smile.

"Thank you, Albus – but you could have given me the bench, you know," Minerva said.

"Nonsense. I could Transfigure it if I wished, anyway. Feel free to use the drawers, too. There may be a few things in them – I'm not certain. It is something that I brought from the other cottage. In fact, I have a good deal of furniture there that Aberforth is simply storing for me, and the amount is growing as he replaces my old things with new furniture of his own. If there is anything you think the cottage needs but doesn't have, I may have it already – provided it meets your approval, of course."

"There is one thing I thought of, but it isn't urgent, just something I noticed and thought would be nice. If you haven't anything like it, I'm sure we have something in the attic at the McGonagall Cliffs that might suit," Minerva said.

"What's that, my dear?"

"I thought it might be nice to have a dressing table. A vanity with a mirror. If you wouldn't mind. I don't want to – "

"Mind? Not at all. That's an excellent idea. And if I had given it more thought before we came, I would have had Wilspy fix something for you. I have my mother's old vanity. It actually goes with this wardrobe and dresser. Would that be acceptable? It has a large mirror attached to it – and it's a Muggle set, so the mirror isn't charmed. I don't know which you prefer."

"Uncharmed, definitely! I find Charmed mirrors generally obnoxious. We never had any at home. Grandmother Siofre never liked them, so we never acquired any," Minerva replied. "The vanity sounds perfect." She looked around her. "So this furniture was in your former cottage?"

"All but the bench, the rocker, the floor lamp, and the bed. I acquired a new bed when I moved."

Albus turned and fiddled with the items on top of the dresser, lining them all up neatly.

Minerva could understand that completely. After finding the witch you were dating fornicating with another wizard in your own bed – she probably would have wanted to burn the mattress, herself.

"And downstairs?" she asked, hoping that Albus would stop fiddling with the things on the dresser. She knew that the mention of the bed had likely made him uncomfortable, remembering why he had a different bed, but he needn't be.

"Downstairs, the table and chairs in the main room were something that were here," Albus replied. "I told Aberforth to keep what I had, if he liked it, as it was more appropriate in the other cottage, and it wouldn't have looked right here. The sofa is one that I had had in my library in the old place, as is the rocker and chair, but the coffee table was here. The more . . . rustic items are likely all ones that the cottage retained after Aberforth left and had brought what he wanted with him, or that we decided to discard, as he didn't want it in his new home and I didn't care to keep it here."

"Has Aberforth visited since he moved out?"

"I don't believe he's been here when I haven't been, but two summers ago, before Headmaster Dippet died, he visited me here for a few days. I just Transfigured the sofa for him, and he claimed to be comfortable enough, but . . . we do try, and we get along, but we aren't very close. I think he missed his goats." Albus shrugged. "That was the last time I was here for longer than a few days at one time, actually. I spent most of July and the second two weeks of August here on the island. But I haven't had the time since."

"By yourself?" Minerva asked, imagining four or five weeks all alone on an island.

"Well, Aberforth was here for a few days in July, as I said, and Wilspy was here much of the time."

Minerva hadn't notice any house-elf accommodations when he gave her a tour of the cottage. "Where does she sleep?" The McGonagall house-elves had an entire wing of the second floor; obviously something like that wouldn't be practical or possible here, but she must sleep somewhere.

"When I first got the cottage, she had a cot in here." Albus grinned. "I really did feel like a little boy again, since the only other times she had slept in the same room with me was when I was a child and was sick. But that, obviously, is unsuitable for the long term, so when I built on the little library, I also reconfigured the kitchen. One of the cupboard doors is actually a door to her little room. You can see the window from the slate terrace, in fact. The one with the lace curtains."

"Oh, yes! Come to think of it, I noticed the curtains and thought it puzzling that I hadn't seen them inside – you have a noticeable lack of window dressing," Minerva said.

"Do you mind? The ones Aberforth had were dreadful – practically begging for Doxies to take up residence – and the ones from my old cottage just wouldn't have been suitable. And there's no one around to see in except a few creatures, anyway."

"But what about in the summer – particularly early in the summer – when it gets light so early? Doesn't it bother you, or do you use a charm of some sort?"

"I put a dark filter on the east windows and a medium one on the west-facing ones, then I remove the charms when I get up. If the weather's very bad, I might close the shutters, too," Albus explained. "I keep them shut when I'm away, but I opened them when I Apparated down ahead of you."

"Oh, well, that's all right then." The sunrise wasn't dreadfully early anymore, but she was on holiday, and although Minerva doubted she would be able to sleep in, it would be nice to have that option. "So, I don't know what supplies you have in the kitchen, but I usually like to have a cup of tea before bed, as you know."

"Why don't we go down and do that together, then?" Albus suggested. "I brought chamomile, peppermint, catnip, and a blend of cinnamon, ginger, and cardamom."

"I like the sound of the last one, but perhaps after a meal, not at night," Minerva said as they started down the stairs together. "Maybe a mix of mint and catnip? I like those blended."

Albus grinned at her. "Yes, Raggles! I thought you might enjoy the catnip." "Raggles" – derived from her despised middle name "Morag" – was what he called Minerva when she was in her Animagus form.

Minerva snorted and rolled her eyes, but given his comment, she just had to do a bit of showing off, herself, and she popped into her Tabby-form midstride, then raced down the stairs, streaked around the perimeter of the room, leapt up on the back of the couch, ran across it, and finally jumped up on the front windowsill. Because the walls were so thick, the windowsill was wide, and she stretched out on it, as calm as she'd been frenzied only a moment before, looked up at Albus, where he stood laughing at the foot of the stair, and yawned at him before putting her chin on her paws and half-closing her eyes.

Albus came over and scratched her behind the ears, and as she stretched her front paws in front of her, he ran his hand down her back then over her tail. Minerva yawned again, standing and stretching, her head low and her tail high in the air.

"So, should I just sprinkle the catnip on the floor for you to roll in, or would you prefer it in your tea?" Albus asked teasingly.

Minerva sat up and looked up at him with her very best glare, but Albus just laughed again and continued to pet her. Suddenly, she transformed, now sitting against the windowsill, a smirk on her face.

"You really do think you're very amusing with your catnip-jokes, don't you?" she said in mock irritation.

"Mm, very!" Albus said with a grin. He looked her up and down. Her dressing gown had come open when she returned to her original form, and she was wearing nothing underneath. "I also like to . . . pet the pussy." His eyes fixed on her dark curly thatch.

Minerva blushed, but rather than cover herself, she opened the front of the gown further as she put her hands on her hips, teasing him in return. "I rather like it when you do, too . . . but you said we'd have tea."

Minerva brushed past him and headed toward the kitchen. "If you tell me where it is, I can make it for us – or would you prefer chamomile or plain peppermint?"

Albus chuckled. "I'll have what you're having – and come with you and help," he said. "I like that dressing gown, by the way, Minerva. The colour is very fetching on you."

"Thank you," Minerva replied, thinking he probably also liked the way it only tied with a sash.

The dressing gown was of silk, cool and soft, in a rich emerald green, a diamond design woven through the fabric, with wide, floaty sleeves, and a special wand pocket, and had been a gift from their friend Quin. A gift given at a time when Minerva had believed that all was lost and that Albus found the thought of an intimate relationship with her repugnant, even disturbing, and that he felt an affection for her as he would for a granddaughter. When Quin had given it to her, she had begun to entertain the notion of beginning a relationship with him – as much as a balm and an escape from her pain as out of genuine affection for the wizard. Anguished, she had arrived on Quin's doorstep with nothing, and he had bought her a few articles of clothing so that she wouldn't have to wear the same robes and sleep in his Transfigured night attire. The memory now bothered her only because she wondered whether she should mention to Albus that it had been a gift from Quin, and how he would feel about her wearing it if he knew that it was.

Deciding that she would feel as though she was keeping something from him if she didn't mention it, at least casually, Minerva added, "It was a gift. From Quin, in fact. When I visited, so I wouldn't have to keep borrowing his things and Transfiguring them."

She turned, ostensibly to wait for Albus to reach her and enter the kitchen with her, but really to look to see how he reacted to that information.

"Ah. He chose well. The colour is very nice."

Albus didn't seem to display any reaction at all. Minerva didn't want to provoke one if he really had no thought about it beyond the fact that Quin had chosen well. Sometimes Albus could be very difficult to read. She would just ask him about it later, subtly, hopefully, though subtlety wasn't usually her forte.

Albus pulled a few small canisters from a cupboard near the cooker, and Minerva found some milk in the cool cupboard.

"I sometimes like milk in my herbal teas, especially at night," she said unnecessarily, still thinking about Albus's nonreaction to her revelation. She took a seat on one of the stools by the table as she watched Albus prepare the tea.

"Yes, very good. I have honey here, too," he said, pulling a blue-striped crock from the same cupboard as the tea.

Albus drew the water from the tap directly into the teapot, then waved his hand to cast a Warming Charm, bringing the water up to just barely boiling. He spooned some catnip and some mint into the pot, then turned to Minerva, "Chamomile, too?"

"If you like."

Albus added a small amount of chamomile to the water. He waved his hand to give it a brief stir, then put the lid back on. As it steeped, he took cups and saucers from another cupboard and set them on the table.

"Would you like it here, or upstairs?"

"It's cosy here," Minerva replied.

Albus smiled. "It is, isn't it?" He reached across the table and took her hand. "And I must say that the entire cottage feels cosier with you here, my dear, and we still haven't made any changes to it. Your mere presence brings warmth wherever you go."

Minerva returned his smile. "I was trying to imagine what it would have been like for you to spend several weeks alone here. Weren't you lonely?"

Albus shook his head and chuckled slightly. "No, no more so than usual, and less than sometimes." He looked at her, a smile still on his lips, but his eyes seeming more serious. "I was never one to feel lonely. Sometimes I would desire company, or the comfort of human warmth, but, alone or with others, I was rarely lonely. Often alone, and occasionally . . . isolated or . . . weary. But truly, I was rarely lonely. Then I began to fall in love with you, and I discovered what loneliness was. I ached. And I did not even acknowledge what I was aching for, which simply made it worse, I believe. And then when I finally did . . . I felt like such an old fool, no fool like an old fool, I thought, behaving like a love-struck adolescent, pining and – " Albus let out a quick breath of self-effacing laughter. "But more the fool was I for not acknowledging it, and worse then for not telling you when I should have, before causing you such pain."

Minerva squeezed his hand. "Mother told me once that no one who loves is a fool, or if they are, then we are all fools, all who love. She told me that when I believed that I was a fool for loving you, for hoping that you could love me. The only thing foolish about either of us was that we danced about each other, trying to pretend what wasn't so."

"Your mother is a good and wise witch," Albus said, "and I am grateful to both your parents for their acceptance." He hesitated. "You didn't say, but . . . have you told anyone else in your family? Other than Malcolm, of course . . ."

"I haven't spoken to him, but I think that Murdoch knows or guesses, because Mother rearranged the seating at the table on Friday so that you and I could sit together, which shifted things so that Poppy was at the other end of the table from him," Minerva said, mentioning her youngest brother, still almost twelve years older than she. "But he seemed fine about it, and I doubt very much he'll say anything to anyone, even Melina. Other than that, no, I haven't told anyone else whom you don't already know about."

Albus nodded. "I do wonder what Siofre will think if you tell her, or if she finds out," he said slowly. Minerva's grandmother, who had been at Hogwarts with Albus, was a starchy, no-nonsense old witch with very strong opinions on many subjects.

Minerva shrugged. "I doubt she'll learn of it for a while yet. And it will be interesting to see her reaction, but I will attempt to . . . take it with equanimity if she disapproves or says anything derogatory."

"You mean you won't hex her the way you did Malcolm?" Albus asked with a smirk.

Minerva groaned. "I do wish he hadn't told you about that. As I said, I don't usually go about doing violence to people – even when they deserve it. I simply was a little . . . overwrought, that's all. And I repaired the damage immediately."

Albus poured their tea, chuckling. "Biscuits? No?" He nodded, tasted his tea, then added some honey to it. "I actually think that Malcolm was rather impressed. He said you were quick with your wand."

"That's only because he was taken unawares. As he should have been. Sisters don't normally go about slicing open their brothers' faces during otherwise civilised conversation."

"No, I don't suppose they do. Never having had a sister, I can't speak from experience, of course, although I do believe that brothers tend to provoke each other that way more."

Minerva laughed. "Well, my experience with my three brothers wasn't typical, as they are all so much older than I am, but believe me, they have provoked me a lot. And I, them, probably. Though we don't normally draw wands on each other." She grinned. "Of course, being the baby probably provided me some protection! And they were older and better able to control themselves when I was at my most annoying."

"Annoying?" Albus laughed. "I cannot imagine that at all."

"Oh, you remember how I was when I was a student – too serious by half, thinking I understood more than I did simply because I happened to read a lot, always wanting to grow up faster, catch up with my brothers – I very nearly squandered my childhood, I think, in spending all of it wishing I were grown up!" Minerva smiled to herself. "I am sure I annoyed them all a lot. Malcolm, in particular. I think it quite hurt him that I . . . put on airs and stopped wanting to listen to his stories, and scoffing at them when I did. I outgrew the scoffing phase . . . more or less. But I still think I could be rather obnoxious at times. Not usually, and not intentionally, obviously, but . . . we all go through unattractive phases, I suppose."

Albus laughed. "Yes, I suppose we do – and some people never outgrow them! Your 'phases,' brief as I am certain they were, were passing and a part of childhood. And I never found you obnoxious or annoying. Amusing, occasionally, but never annoying."

"I think that's your nature, Albus, to find amusing what others find irritating. I try, but I'm afraid that is one of your traits that I find difficult to emulate," Minerva said with a laugh.

The two drank their tea, chatting about their family and friends, and soon the tea was finished and both were stifling their yawns. Despite their desire to stay up and talk all night, they both decided to be sensible and go up to bed so that they could have their walk and picnic the next morning.