The Weight of Lies
The letter had come from the newly appointed Deputy Headmaster, Filius Flitwick. That in itself was odd, she thought. Particularly because she didn't know Flitwick personally. He was renowned as a dueling champion and a highly accomplished Charms Master. But he had been quite a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts, and their paths had not crossed. It was strange that the letter should come from him, with whom Minerva McGonagall had no personal relationship when she had been taught and mentored by the new Headmaster many years before. Though perhaps their personal history was precisely why the letter had not come from Albus Dumbledore.
Minerva was unsure, therefore, what to expect when she arrived at Hogwarts for her interview. She presumed that it was only a formality, as she had not applied for the position of Transfiguration Professor but rather had been invited to take the position. Had that been Albus's idea? She was unsure. She had not spoken to him in many, many years.
It was obvious that when Headmaster Dippet passed away, just a few months shy of his retirement, that Albus would become Headmaster. Nothing better could happen to Hogwarts, to Minerva's mind. He was a brilliant wizard with the most compassionate heart she'd ever encountered. At least when it came to the students. He was a hero to the wizarding world, and such accolades do not come without some difficult choices and sacrifices.
Minerva scoffed to herself as she sat at her small kitchen table in her little London flat. Choices and sacrifices, indeed. But it would not do to be overly bitter, not before the interview. She would need to keep an open mind, to tamp down that Scottish temper that had so often gotten her into trouble. She was older and wiser now. It was about time she acted her age. Time for Albus to see her as a successful woman in her own right. She was a Transfiguration Mistress, a registered Animagus, and, if she did not take the job at Hogwarts, she would be next in line to be Deputy Minister of Experimental Spells. Her accomplishments demanded respect, and respect she would have. Never mind that she dreaded being alone with Albus Dumbledore again after so long. Never mind that the very thought of him still turned her into a simpering girl, desperate for recognition. Never mind that nearly every night when she closed her eyes, it was his sparkling blue eyes that she saw. She would just have to rise above it.
The day finally arrived for her to return to Hogwarts once again. She dressed in her finest robes, black with red threads running through. Her hair was pulled back into a tight and rather severe bun. Perhaps not the most attractive of styles, but Minerva wanted to be taken seriously and doing anything to try to make herself alluring in any manner would be wholly inappropriate. She was going to interview for a job. That was all.
The castle looked just as it always did. She'd never arrived at the front gates before, never having been back since she was a student. But she apparated right to the Three Broomsticks and walked to where she knew the gates were located, enjoying the lovely summer weather and the beautiful Scottish scenery. Hogwarts was not located very far from her own family home, but it didn't quite look like where she grew up. Hogwarts was a place all its own. And even in spite of her anxiety over the impending interview, Minerva felt herself smile. She was going back to Hogwarts. What a wonderful thing.
Hagrid was waiting to let her in. "'Lo there, Miss McGonagall. Nice ter see yeh."
"And it is good to see you, Mr. Hagrid."
"Jus' Hagrid's fine," he replied with a slight blush. "Been promoted t' Keeper of Keys and Grounds jus' last year."
Minerva nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. And I'm even gladder to see you still here and enjoying Hogwarts."
"Bes' place in th' world, Hogwarts," Hagrid told her proudly.
"I quite agree."
"Yeh'll be teachin' 'ere, then?"
"We shall see. I have my interview with Headmaster Dumbledore to determine that very thing," she explained.
"Well, tha' shouldn' be a worry. Dumbledore loves you," he said pleasantly.
Minerva merely hummed, doing her best to keep to herself that her very blood had run cold at those words.
Hagrid walked her to the statue of the gargoyle on the second floor that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office. He gave the password—Toffee Clusters—and the gargoyle hopped aside to let Minerva ride the stairs up to the office door. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She tried in vain to calm herself. Albus would surely know if she was nervous. Would probably comment on it, knowing him, trying to be kind and going out of his way to try to make her comfortable as he always did. And, as he always did, he would probably say or do something to make her feel like complete and utter rubbish. Minerva had a feeling that if she could get out of this interview without devolving into tears, she would be quite successful indeed. A low bar, perhaps, but still likely too high for her to reach.
The heavy oak door was in front of her at last. She took a single shaky breath and knocked.
"Enter," came the calm voice from inside. Minerva shivered at hearing for the first time in so long. She opened the door and stepped inside.
"Miss McGonagall, how lovely to see you," Dumbledore said kindly, standing from his desk to come over to greet her.
Minerva was unsure how to act with that. She merely nodded and greeted him with a muttered, "Sir."
Albus came to shake her hand, though he clasped her right in both of his, giving her a fond squeeze. "You are looking well," he told her politely.
"Thank you," was all she could manage to respond.
If he noticed her discomfort, he did not mention it. "Please sit. I know it's perhaps a bit stuffy and formal, but I thought the interview could be done best at my desk."
Even though they were in the Headmaster's office and taking their seats at that enormous desk, in Minerva's mind, Albus's desk was the one in his office in Gryffindor Tower, where he had been her Transfiguration teacher and Head of House all those years. It seemed strange that someone else would inhabit those rooms now that Albus was Headmaster. If all went well, it would in fact be Minerva herself who would reside there.
"I first want to thank you for sending an updated resume in your response to the interview invitation. It has been circulated amongst the necessary individuals."
"Of course," she answered calmly. Now that she was sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, it seemed easier somehow to remain steady and measured.
And as though it were the most normal and regular thing in the world, Albus began asking questions about her work and experience, her interest in the position, her thoughts on teaching methods, everything that one would expect in a job interview. Minerva had anticipated all such questions and had eloquent answers prepared for each one. It was odd, though. Albus spoke to her as just a woman interviewing for a job. No mention whatsoever about their shared past. That was probably for the best. But Minerva had expected Albus to make some sort of attempt at addressing it. Perhaps he would if she got the job. No use bringing up old wounds unnecessarily, she supposed.
After nearly an hour, Albus nodded and gave a soft smile. The sort of smile that had always made Minerva's heart skip a beat. "Miss McGonagall, I think we have covered all the necessary aspects of the job. I would like to officially offer it to you now."
She blinked in surprise. "Oh!"
"You may take some time to decide, of course. But if I could have your answer within two weeks, that would be preferable. That way we can have the entire month of August for you to move into the castle and begin curriculum preparations with ample time before the students arrive," he explained.
"No, I don't need two weeks," she said quickly. "I accept. I can move in next weekend."
Albus's small smile spread into a happy grin and stood from the desk. "Oh that is wonderful. I'm very pleased. You are by far the most qualified, and, somewhat selfishly, you are the only person I could envision taking over my former position."
Minerva stood as well. "I shall endeavor to live up to your legacy, Professor Dumbledore. Or rather, Headmaster Dumbledore."
He came around the desk to stand beside her. "Please call me Albus," he told her softly, placing a gentle hand on her arm.
Her breath hitched immediately as she recalled the first time he had said those words to her, using that precise tone of voice.
Albus must have had the same memory. He pulled his hand away from her as though he had been burned. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes. Well. I will have Filius owl you with the details. You can coordinate your arrival and move-in with him."
"Yes, sir." Even though he had asked her to call him Albus, it was probably safer for everyone involved if she kept the formalities. "Thank you, Headmaster." She quickly turned and left the office before anything else happened in his presence.
As she walked away, Albus watched her and felt the old ache in his chest once again. He had tried so hard to keep things as they should be between them. He had tried so hard to be a professional in her presence. But he had slipped. He had touched her arm and asked her to call him by his first name. He knew better. He most certainly knew better. But being in her presence again after so very long had weakened his resolve.
The door to his office closed and Albus went back to his desk. He let his head fall into his hands and he sighed with a bone-deep weariness.
"You're walking on thin ice with that one," came a voice from above.
Albus did not bother looking up to the portrait of former Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black. "That's enough, Phineas."
"I don't think it is, Dumbledore. You can't have a woman like that in the castle if you're going to act like a fool about her."
"I said, that's enough." Albus lifted his hand and did a simple wandless charm to mute the portrait.
"He is right, you know. Whatever troubles you're having with that lovely witch now will only increase when she's living in the castle and working alongside you."
"Thank you, Everard," Albus said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
But another portrait woke up and took interest as well. "I remember Miss McGonagall. Head Girl, wasn't she? And your protegée. You never used to behave like that around her before. And her attitude toward you, so cold! Whatever happened with you two?" Armando Dippet wondered.
"It is a very long story and one that need not be retold now or ever. Whatever my private troubles with Minerva, she and I are both consummate professionals and will not let any personal feelings interfere with our duties. And I do not wish to hear a single word about it again, is that understood?" Albus commanded firmly.
The portraits all muttered their assent. The muting charm was removed from Phineas, and he began shouting about disrespect. Albus went back to work and ignored him.
Ten days later, Minerva arrived at the Hogwarts gates once again, but this time she had two cases floating behind her. Hagrid greeted her for the second time, pleased to have her join the staff. He had always liked her when he was a student. She had helped him with some of his homework when he had trouble, and she had never treated him any different after he'd been expelled. She would be a good one to have at the castle, to be sure.
Just as Albus had predicted, the entire month of August was spent moving into her rooms in Gryffindor Tower—as she was the only Gryffindor on staff now, so she would be taking over as Head of House. The rooms had been stripped of everything that had made them Dumbledore's, so Minerva started from scratch with her decorating. The house-elves were a great help, as their magic was tied so closely to the castle and could rearrange rooms and furnishings with a snap of their fingers. Minerva had grown up with a house-elf in her parents' house, and she found she got along with them quite well.
When she wasn't rearranging her rooms, Minerva spent her time setting up her new classroom and organizing her lesson plans. Dumbledore had left his curricula for her to adapt for herself, which was a great help. She would mostly keep to his lessons, though she knew she would present them incredibly differently. After all, she and Albus were very different people. And his methods would not work for her, she knew. Not only that, she was very cognizant of the fact that all of the students save for the First Years would be comparing her to their former Transfiguration professor. And Minerva knew that the comparison would not be in her favor. She was younger, less experienced, and much harsher. The students were probably in for a rather rude awakening when they walked into her classroom. Though she did have a bit of a trick up her sleeve that may win them round.
Minerva quickly met and made pleasant acquaintances with her new colleagues. A few had been her own professors when she was a student, namely Horace Slughorn and Cuthbert Binns, the latter of whom had been living when she was a student but was now teaching as a ghost. The rest of Minerva's fellow professors were witches and wizards about her age who she had been near to her year in school. It was nice to see familiar faces again.
Everything was going quite well save fore one aspect of her new life at Hogwarts: the mysterious Headmaster. Albus was perfectly genial to all of the staff except for her. Not that he was outwardly rude at all; no, Albus would never stoop that low. But he never spoke with her alone, never started a conversation with her on his own, never allowed himself to be left in a room with no one but her. Minerva understood, of course. If she were in his position, she might behave the same way. But he was her boss, and he should have been better than that. And even if she understood what he was doing, Minerva was starting to be annoyed by it all.
But the school year was starting and she had more important things to be concerned with. She sat beside Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, at the Welcome Banquet. The Sorting was quite a sight to see from up at the staff table Minerva enjoyed getting the first look at the new batch of Gryffindors. Out at the Gryffindor table, she saw a number of students who looked vaguely familiar. They were, in all likelihood, the children of her own former classmates. Good lord, when had she gotten so old? Already close to fifty years old and unmarried and childless. Well, at least she was at Hogwarts where she could turn into an old spinster along with the rest of the staff who had similarly let such personal things pass them by in favor of a career in academia.
Classes began and Minerva ran her classroom with strict efficiency. She was stern with her students, but fair, she thought. A few students came to her office hours to ask for assistance, and she was gentle and happy to help. She did not smile pleasantly at harmless misbehavior in class the way Dumbledore had done. Minerva was not afraid to take away House points or assign detentions, if such things were warranted. She did, however, instantly earn the awe and respect of every student on their first day of classes. Lest they have any doubts that she was a qualified Transfiguration Mistress, she sat straight and still on top of her desk as the students filed into the classroom and as the hour struck, she leapt up and transformed from a cat to a woman in midair. The Gryffindor Second Years led a round of applause. One startled Ravenclaw Seventh Year swore loudly. Minerva was positively delighted by the response.
Albus was doing his best to remain detached, to treat Minerva like any other professor. He did, however, set very clear boundaries for himself. They would never speak of anything that was not school-related. He would not allow himself to be alone in a room with her. And he would not, under any circumstances, allow himself to look at her for more than three seconds at a time unless she was speaking during a meeting, when it was only proper that he be looking at her. Any deviation from those rules would surely spell disaster. For the longer she was in the castle, the more difficult it became for Albus to police his thoughts and behaviors. She was just so close. Her presence was unnerving, to say the least. And so for both their sakes, he must remain vigilant in observance of his rules.
Everything was going just fine until Halloween. There was a little party of sorts put together in the staff room. Horace had organized it as an excuse to share stories of his illustrious acquaintances and open expensive bottles of various spirits. Still, it was nice to have an excuse to socialize all together.
Albus had somehow gotten dragged into a tedious conversation with Horace himself, who insisted on continually filling Albus's glass with elf-made wine. Minerva was across the room, looking ever so lovely in green without her dour teaching robes covering her. She was speaking to Filius about something, and she laughed. Albus completely ignored whatever Horace was saying, for the sound of Minerva's laughter pierced straight through his heart. He could hardly breathe to look at her in that moment.
But many more than three seconds had gone by, so Albus forced himself to tear his eyes away from her and return to the conversation at hand. It was that affirmative ignorance of her presence that caused him to be caught unawares when Minerva came to join with him and Horace, who excused himself to give instructions to the house-elves; they were the only three left at the party.
"I suppose I shall bid you all goodnight," Albus said quickly, needing to hurry out of the room before he and Minerva were left alone together.
A steely look sparked in her green eyes. "Albus, might I have a word, please?" she requested. "In your office?"
He was at a loss to say no. And so he merely nodded and led the way across the second floor from the staff room to the gargoyle leading to his office. They did not speak a single word until he gave the password. "Turkish Delight."
The close quarters of riding up the stairs together made his heart beat faster. His stomach was already in knots, being so close to her with no one else around. He dreaded what sort of word she wished to have with him in his office. Nevertheless, he would try to remain calm and unaffected in her presence.
When they arrived in his office, he went around to stand behind his desk. The show of authority would help him remain professional, he hoped. "So, Professor McGonagall, what is it you wish to speak with me about?"
Minerva, to his utter shock and shameful delight, walked right up to him on his side of the desk. "You've been avoiding me," she accused.
"I…" he trailed off. Keeping his distance was one thing. Lying to her was quite another. He couldn't do that to her. Not again. He swallowed hard and admitted, "Yes. I've been avoiding you."
She nodded sedately. "I think it's time we cleared the air, don't you?" she suggested softly. "We see each other every single day and we barely speak. The only time we have been alone in a room before this was during my interview. And before that, it had been twenty-five years since we saw or spoke to one another. I, for one, have missed you."
Her confession nearly shattered his heart. "Oh, Minerva," he breathed.
She gasped slightly, not having heard his voice utter her name in all those years. Perhaps the elf-made wine that had made her brave enough to confront him was now making her too emotional handle such confrontation. Tears pricked her eyes, and try as she might to blink them away, they began to fall down her cheeks.
Albus saw her begin to cry and could not stop himself. He pulled her into his arms and held her close to him. One hand held her back and the other stroked her soft, dark hair. "Minerva, my dear Minerva," he murmured. "I am more sorry than I can say."
She tilted her head back to look at him, though her hands clutched at the fabric of his robes. "Why? Why are you sorry? Please tell me."
"I am sorry I have neglected you since you arrived. I am sorry I was too weak to keep my distance from you all those years ago. I am sorry I left you as I did," he told her.
Minerva shut her eyes tight, trying not to relive the moment again as she did far too often. "You told me you did not want the hassle," she recalled. The memory was seared in her very soul. "You told me that it was too much work to sneak away from the castle to visit me in London, that we could not be together in any way that mattered, and it was best to break it off."
"Yes." He could not do anything more than admit to the horrible lies he had once told her. The lies had hurt her, but the truth had hurt him so much more.
She opened her eyes to gaze at him again, this time reaching a shaky hand up to stroke his cheek and beard. "I had thought that…maybe with us both living in the castle…that you had invited me to interview for the position so…so there would no longer be a hassle. But that was silly. So much time has passed. You…you don't want me anymore. Though perhaps you never did."
Her sad murmurings made Albus's heart drop to his stomach. "Not…not want you? Minerva, I assure you nothing is further from the truth." He took her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her high cheekbones. "My Minerva," he whispered. "I wanted you far too much. I had to tell you those things to make you understand that we were not good for each other. Or rather that I was not good for you. You were twenty-four years old and brilliant and ambitious and beautiful. You had your entire life and career ahead of you. I never wanted you to get to the point where you considered giving up anything for the likes of me."
"But I would have!" she protested. "I was going to get a job at the bookshop in Hogsmeade so we could…"
"And that was precisely why I had to tell you I did not wish to see you any longer. That was why I had to lie to you, to keep you from making such a sacrifice for my sake."
The reality dawned on her like a lightning bolt. "You…you lied?"
"Yes."
Her eyes darted over his face as she tried to find the words to ask him about the words he'd said to irreparably break her heart that last day they'd been together. And now she dared to hope for another outcome. "When you told me that you did not love me, was that a lie?"
"Yes."
A harsh sob erupted from the back of her throat, but she calmed herself with a few hitched breaths. "Why? Why would you ever tell such a lie?"
"Because you deserved more than what I could give you. Because I loved you too much to let you throw away your life just so we could be together." He tried, rather unsuccessfully, to wipe her tears away as they fell down her pale cheeks.
All the pain from that awful breakup came flooding back to Minerva anew, knowing now that it had all been a farce. "I loved you. I thought…I thought you were the love of my life, Albus!"
"But look at all you have accomplished, Minerva! Look what you've been able to do because you were not saddled with me. And surely you loved again. I know you have not been alone these twenty-five years."
"No one like you," she said. "And you? Have you been alone all these years?
"Well, you were a woman in your prime. I have only been a dotty old man."
"That is a persona you have carefully cultivated yourself," she scolded. Minerva took a deep breath and pulled away from his hands. She could barely breathe when he was so close to her. She could not think when he touched her. She never could.
Minerva sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. All of the memories of their time together swirled in her mind. Those precious eight months they had spent talking and laughing and making love. It had been paradise. Minerva had never known happiness like that before. It all seemed like a perfect dream, when he had invited her for lunch when he was at the Ministry on business. Their lunch lasted till teatime. Their tea lasted till dinner. Their dinner took them through dessert. The proprietor of the restaurant had to ask them to leave. They had walked through Diagon Alley to Minerva's flat, holding hands the whole way. She had invited him up from a nightcap. He had spent the night in her bed. She remembered how in the morning he had tried to apologize for his behavior toward her, how he hoped they could remain friends after he had taken advantage of her in such a manner. But Minerva had assured him that he took no advantage she had not wanted to give. And as she kissed him and ran her hands all over his naked body in her bed at dawn, she assured him that she hoped they could spend more days and nights like that one whenever possible.
After that, Albus had come to see her almost once a week. In the summertime, he'd spent nearly the entire month of July living with her in her flat. But the logistics of it all and the lack of commitment weighed on her. And when she had pushed for more, offering to leave the Ministry and move to Hogsmeade to be with him, he had flatly told her no, giving the excuse that had haunted her every day since.
"Minerva," he said softly, approaching her once again on the other side of the desk. "Minerva, there has been no one but you. I lied when I told you I did not love you, but I tell you the truth here and now. And the truth is that I have always loved you and no matter what happens, my sweet Minerva, I feel rather certain that I will always love you."
"And this is why you've been avoiding me all term? Not because you despise my presence, because you want to warn me away from you?"
Albus kneeled in front of her. "Your presence causes my heart to ache. Because to have you so near yet not have all of you wounds my very soul. But I wanted you to be here of your own volition, to find your way as a teacher and Head of Gryffindor, positions that I correctly predicted you would excel at."
"You still love me? After so long apart?"
"Yes."
Minerva took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes closed serenely. She opened them again, looking at him with the same affectionate sparkle she'd had that very first morning when he had woken up in her bed. "And after so long, Albus, I still love you, too. Even when it hurt me to love you, even when the thought of you caused me pain because I believed you had cast me aside, I still loved you. I do still love you."
Albus just looked at her in sheer awe, in utter disbelief that such words had come from her mouth.
"For the love of Merlin, man, kiss her!" the portrait of Phineas Nigellus shouted.
And at that rude interruption, Minerva laughed. And the sound of her laugh utterly did him in. Albus stood up and pulled her with him and finally kissed her. "I love you," he murmured against her lips. Over and over he repeated the words, as though their repetition could overpower the lie he'd once told.
For her part, Minerva wrapped her arms around Albus's neck, tangling her fingers in his hair and kissing him with everything she had. After so long, he still felt the same. Still the same taste of his tongue and rhythm of his lips and grip of his hands around her waist and tingle of his magic.
What they would do next, she did not know. But they would find their way, for the truth had come to light, and their love would stand on its pillars rather than be crushed by the weight of lies.