The Beginning: April 1945

A/N: I do not speak German, so that is why dialogue later in this chapter is in English.

Thirty years earlier – April 1945

Hidden by the shadow of a rock overhang and by powerful invisibility spells, three tents, set up in a half-circle, waited for the dawn. One tent held Auror Alastor Moody; another housed Albus Dumbledore, the current Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts and the former friend of Grindelwald; the third and final tent held his protégée, Minerva McGonagall.

Tonight, however, only two tents were occupied. Alastor Moody had retired early, not up to conversation. Minerva McGonagall slipped into Albus Dumbledore's tent after she was sure that the Auror was asleep.

Albus raised an eyebrow at her entrance, not saying anything until he cast several silencing charms around the tent, which was surprising large for its size, thanks to magic.

"Yes, Minerva?" he asked as she stepped closer to him, swallowing as she stopped only a few inches away from him. She closed that distance, running her hands over his chest and looking up into his sparkling blue eyes.

"Albus..." she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body into his. His breathing grew heavy and he closed his eyes. She leaned her head against his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart, and closed her eyes as well. His arms slipped around her waist, and she gasped as she felt his hands settle on her buttocks, pulling her closer, pressing his hips against hers.

He pulled back from her, hands still resting on her lower back, and looked into her eyes.

"Minerva," he said, his voice deep and hoarse with desire. She licked her lips as she noticed his dilated pupils and the deep blue hue of his eyes.

She looked at him and was filled once more with a surge of arousal. She wanted him – she had wanted him ever since her fifth year at Hogwarts. Now was her chance.

"Make love to me, Albus," she told him, her voice husky. He needed no further encouragement and took her hand, moving towards his makeshift bed with her. She sank down onto her knees and released her hair from its confining braid. For the first time, he noticed her state of undress – only a single nightshirt, hardly adequate for the chilly German nights, even if it was April. He removed his socks first, then moved to his trousers and y-fronts, before removing his shirt. She had finished undressing before him, and as he looked at her, he saw her staring at his naked body eagerly.

His auburn beard fell down to the middle of his chest, and his hair was only slightly longer. Only a few streaks of grey in his hair betrayed his age, as his body was still as fit as it was thirty years earlier. His broad chest and long legs were sparsely covered with auburn fuzz, and only a few soft curls surrounded his cock, which was already firm and erect.

He also drank in her appearance with unabashed desire. Her porcelain skin, normally so pale, was flushed with desire. Her long black hair fell to the middle of her back, draping her body in its silky length. Her breasts were smaller than average but gorgeous nonetheless. Her narrow hips tapered down into slim but muscular legs.

He stepped forward, breaking the moment, and joined her on the blankets, pulling her down to lie beside him.

"Mmm..." she moaned as his lips began tracing the curves of her breasts. Her hand stroked his chest, moving lower, until it found his erection. Stroking his hard shaft gently in her small hand, he groaned as she increased the pace of her caresses. He stopped his ministrations and lifted his head, meeting her dark eyes.

"I need you now," his hoarse voice demanded as he began to press into her opening, her hand still stroking him. She released him from her grip and brought a hand around to his face, cupping his cheek gently. He moved his head so that her hand was on his mouth, and he kissed her palm sensuously as he entered her. She gasped at his sudden presence and began to moan as he pumped within her, her hand dropping from his mouth in surprise. He lay on top of her, her legs wrapped around his waist, as he drove deeper and deeper into her warm depths.

"Oh, gods, Albus, oh gods, yes, yes, more, more, please more!" she moaned as her orgasm ripples through her body. He let himself go as well, pressing into her one more time before allowing himself release, collapsing on top of her as his climax ends. He rolled onto his side, his arms around her waist as she moved with him, still joined to him. He whispered a spell and a blanket rose to cover their sweat-covered bodies. She nuzzled his neck sleepily, contentedly; he placed a kiss tenderly on the top of her dark head. Still joined, they both slept.

They never had a chance to discuss their night together. The next two days were a blur of activity as they had finally received confirmation of Grindelwald's location. In the chaos that was the Final Battle, she refused to let herself think about what they had shared, focussing only on the battle itself. She saved Albus's life and allowed him to finish the duel when she leapt in front of a Cruciatus Curse meant for him. And when the battle was over, they were separated, Albus taken to St. Mungo's to be healed, Minerva left abandoned on the battlefield. She was left there, no one searching for her, despite the fact that her injuries were far more extensive and severe than his; despite the fact that, even though Albus cast the final curse, she was the one who brought about the circumstances for him to finish the duel.

Two days later, a Muggle farmer discovered her lying in the field. When he realised that she was still alive, he gently lifted her into his wagon and onto a pile of hay before he made sure that the jolting of the cart would not injure her further.

After what seemed like hours, they arrived at his small home, where a kind, plump wife, two blonde-haired daughters, and three blond-haired sons, not to mention several barking dogs, greeted him. His family gasped when they saw her, his wife taking in and assessing her injuries with a practiced eye, barking out orders in German to her children and husband. The two oldest boys gently lifted her from the cart, but despite their caution, she fainted from the pain.

She woke up in a small yet comfortable bed, the younger daughter washing her face with a damp cloth. When she noticed that Minerva was beginning to wake, she placed the cloth back in a basin of water and exited the room, calling for her mother. The plump woman entered the room and took the chair her daughter had recently occupied.

"How are you feeling?" the kindly woman asked, placing a cool hand on Minerva's forehead. Minerva smiled weakly.

"Better, thank you," she replied. "May I have a glass of water?"

The older woman nodded and filled a glass that was resting on the bedside table with water from the pitcher also resting there. She motioned to her daughter to help their patient sit up carefully, and the plump woman herself held the glass so Minerva could drink.

"Thank you," Minerva told her when she finished. The woman nodded gently.

"I am Heidi Busse, and this is my daughter Lisle. My husband, who found you, is named Konrad. We have three sons named Fritz, Max, and Willem; we also have another daughter named Marta. What is your name? And, if you are able, can you tell us what happened to you?"

Minerva's mind raced. She did not have a wand, as hers had been lost sometime during the battle. She was also sure that these kind strangers were Muggles. How could she explain what happened?

Minerva took a deep breath. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am from Scotland. I was travelling with a group of people when we were attacked by soldiers. I was separated from my companions and severely injured. I had given up hope of being found when your husband discovered me and brought me back here. I am eternally grateful to you and your family for rescuing me."

She tried to base her story on the truth, as much as she could, and she thought that the woman was convinced. At any rate, the woman – Mrs. Busse, Minerva corrected herself – patted her hand gently and stood up from her seat.

"I am sorry this happened to you, my dear," Mrs. Busse told her. At Minerva's murmured thanks, Heidi's demeanour changed, becoming brisk and professional. "Now, Minerva – do you mind if I call you Minerva?" The witch shook her head. "Now that you are awake, I need to examine you to find the extent of your injuries. Is that all right?" Minerva nodded. At her mother's instruction, Lisle closed the door and helped Minerva into a sitting position, before removing her shift.

The two women sucked in a breath at the bruises evident on her torso. Gently prodding fingers discovered two cracked ribs on her left side, as well as a broken ankle. Lisle slipped out of the room to fetch some bandages and splints.

"Well, my dear," Heidi told Minerva, "you have two cracked ribs on your left side, as well as a broken ankle. Luckily, your ankle does not appear to be too badly broken, so you must keep a splint on for at least a month, just to ensure that it heals correctly. Your ribs, however, are quite badly cracked, and I do not see how they will be able to heal in less than two months."

Minerva was disheartened by the news, but reminded herself that surely she would be able to travel back to the Wizarding world sooner. Surely, someone would come looking for her...

She inwardly shook her head at her own foolishness. Who would notice that she was missing? Alastor? Perhaps, but from what she saw during the battle she gathered that he had lost a leg. It would be some time before he noticed she was missing, and when he did, he would assume that she was dead.

Poppy? No, Poppy had not known she was going on this mission – she still thought that Minerva was in France, aiding the resistance front there. Indeed, that had been her cover story. Poppy was the only one of her friends who cared enough to ask where she was going, except...

Albus.

Albus was one of the few friends that she had, and the only friend who knew where she was. But would he look for her? She didn't know. He had never professed to love her – even when they'd made love, he had just said that he wanted her. Did he love her? She didn't think so. After all, if he did love her he would not have allowed them to leave her there, lying on a field, waiting for death. No, she thought, he must not love her. A lone tear dropped onto her blanket-covered lap.

She looked up suddenly as the door opened, admitting Lisle, who came bearing a basket of bandages and several slim lengths of wood. Luckily, no one had seen her cry, as Mrs. Busse had been studying Minerva's ankle. As they began to bandage her ribs and ankle, Minerva fell asleep, dreaming of Albus.