On Their 40th
By Izzy
On learning that I wouldn't be needed, you urged me to "go home and get some sleep." It charms me that you still don't mention that "home" for me is Hogwarts; I've had no other from just about the time I started teaching here. Even when everyone within hearing range knows.
And indeed, here I am, in what is officially your bed, though we've shared it for over 39 years. I dozed off earlier, but its nearly midnight and I can't help staying awake to worry about you. Well, it's not like I'm not used to this.
Back when you were suspended three years ago, I went back to sleeping in my official bedroom near Gryffindor Tower. At that point, I hadn't slept there for more then one or two nights at a time since the Dark Lord fell the first time. It was very bare from lack of use. It felt wrong to sleep there, night after night, wondering what was going to become of us if the school was shut down. I've reached a point in my life that I can't imagine going somewhere else, even when the need to was staring me in the face that year.
But after your dramatic exit, I went back there again for the first few days. At any rate, after Umbridge failed to get into your office, I believed myself cut off from your bedroom anyway. But one evening I walked passed the gargoyle alone, and it moved aside without even asking for the password. It wouldn't move for anyone else, just me, and only in the evening when I was alone. It must have known everything that was going on, of course. I wandered through the entire section cut off by that gargoyle before collapsing onto our bed, where I've slept since. The other teachers covered for me. It certainly was a very big satisfaction for us, that we could keep concealed from Umbridge the potentially scandelous affair between the Headmaster and his Deputy Headmistress 80 years his junior.
At least I have Fawkes as a companion tonight. He's started to feather now, though it'll be several more months before he'll be back to his full glory. He's curled up on your pillow, watching me with a sympathetic eye. He must be worried too.
It's not just tonight that we're worried about either. By the time I returned from St. Mungo's, I had a good idea of the mistake you'd made, and knew how you'd berate yourself for it. You'd grown so old already I had thought it wasn't possible for you to look even older, but you did. You told me a good amount of what had happened, and what you had told Harry, and how angry he had been at you. I was angry at Harry myself when you described how he screamed at you, but even more, I was shocked by how utterly you believed yourself to have deserved every word he said. I had known you hated making mistakes and I knew the instant I heard of Sirius's death that you would blame yourself for it, but nothing could have prepared me for the state you were in when you had finished. I wonder how you managed to hold yourself in when talking to Harry. Even when the complications at the beginning of our relationship left you with a good amount of guilt that I was witness to exactly forty years ago tonight, you hadn't been like this.
Though perhaps that was just my view of you at the time. I was much younger then. And I'd just been through a lot, and you had lingering protective feelings for me, so you might not have let me see the full extent of your pain. Now that we've been together for forty years, you have no such qualms. Furthermore, back then I was the one who needed you. Now, you're the one that needs me.
There are a lot of little things that have changed to remind me of that. How we sleep, for instance. I used to curl up in your arms, my hair getting tangled on your nose. Now I hold you, pillowing your head on my chest in almost the same way you used to pillow mine. But while would hold me very gently and securely, I grip you very tightly, and often you grip me even tighter, your hands pressing into my back so hard that sometimes you leave bruises, but I never mention them. It'd be another thing for you to be angry with yourself about.
You've grown more affectionate with me in the presence of others, or perhaps I should say more daring, often squeezing my hand under the table for emotional support. It's no coincidence that a lot of the Order has guessed over the last couple of months, though noone so far whom we wouldn't trust to keep the secret to themselves.
Behind closed doors has always been another story. But even with our change in behavior in public, the change of behavior in private has become more dramatic. Not just in displays of affection, but even in our talking habits. In public, you do most of the talking. In private, I do most of it. We mostly talk about things not related to the Dark Lord, with me recounting anecdotes from the school, especially ones from when you were away. I think I must have told you the story of the twins a hundred times. You must have inspired them, you know. There's no doubt in my mind Harry gave the two of them a blow-by-blow account of your escape.
Yet I still have faith in you, even when I am not sure you have faith in yourself. You've saved us thus far. You've made some mistakes this past year, but I hope you've learned from them. I know you've fancied yourself knowing everything because you've lived so long, but I think you'd have to live far longer still before you reached that point. Believe it or not, you've yet to dissapoint me, and I hope you don't now.
I hear the door in the next room open, almost inaudibly, before I hear footsteps. I look at Fawkes, and know by his calm that they are yours. Even someone polyjuiced as you could not have a hope of imitating your walk well enough to fool him.
The door opens, and I'm surprised to see you smiling. Your eyes fall on me, but you look neither surprised nor displeased on seeing me awake. You take out your wand and say, "Orchideous!" and then present me the flowers. "Happy anniversary, Minerva. I'm afraid this is the best I can get you."
I tell you it's all right. Right now, I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd forgotten. I myself didn't remember until I started lying here, thinking about you.
A couple more enchantments see the flowers suspended above the bedside table, and you change into your nightdress without speaking further. I want to ask you what's happened tonight, but I don't think that's wise just now. I'll ask in the morning. Right now, I pull you into my arms, and we come to rest in our normal position. Yet it is some time before we sleep.
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