Sleep Talking

Disclaimer: I don't own HP

Minerva McGonagall knocked on the door to the Headmaster's quarters, ready for a game of chess. When she received no answer after some time, she knocked again. Nothing. She opened the door and let herself in, and smiled as she saw Albus asleep on his couch. She approached him, simply watching him sleep. As she watched, she sighed, not wanting to disturb him and wishing she knew what he was dreaming about. The look on his face was so pleasant, as if he was having a wonderful dream.

He spoke, making Minerva think he was awake. But his eyes remained closed, leaving her to gawk at what he just heard - and Minerva never gawked, as a general rule of proper composure - before shutting her mouth quickly, still very much in shock. Had the one man she loved more than anything – anything – truly said that? The man her heart belonged to…there was no way…he couldn't have…

It was just a dream, she told herself firmly. She never imagined in her wildest dreams that Albus returned her feelings, but that one little murmur gave her a smidgen of hope. She wanted to know if he would say more, but she knew that would be wrong, so she woke him by shaking him gently, "Albus!"

After some more shaking, he woke from his dream. His sparkling blue eyes popped open and met her own emerald green ones for a moment, and he smiled, "I'm sorry, my dear; I got a little tired so I thought I would rest my eyes. I didn't intend on falling asleep."

"That's quite all right," Minerva replied.

He waved his wand and the chess table appeared in its usual spot. He and Minerva moved to their regular chairs to start the game. When they were seated, Minerva asked casually, "What were you dreaming about?"

His cheeks turned a little pink at this, and Minerva didn't let that go unnoticed. She was given another modicum of hope; if he murmured what she had heard and was embarrassed to talk about his dream when he woke, it had to be a good thing, had it not? He answered carefully, "It was a happy dream. I do love weddings, and I was at one."

"Weddings are even better if they're your own," she said, looking for a reaction.

"What?" he asked sharply. Her third spark of hope; his alarmed reaction made it evident that she was on the right path.

"Were you the groom?" she asked nonchalantly, ignoring his question.

His cheeks became pinker, and he obviously knew he couldn't hide his embarrassment; he could probably feel it on his cheeks, "Yes," he mumbled.

Minerva continued, "You do realize that you talk in your sleep?"

"No, I didn't know. What did I say?" he asked.

"I will answer that question after you truthfully answer mine. Promise me you'll tell the truth, no ridiculous lies because of worries, understand?" she instructed.

"If you insist…," he answered apprehensively.

"What am I to you, and be honest? A friend, a best friend, or something more?" she asked.

"Er –," he said; he didn't want to answer this question, but he had promised to be truthful. "You are my love," he murmured, meeting her eyes with his own unusually ungaurded eyes.

Minerva smiled, "I just wanted to make sure that your sleep-talk gave me the right impression."

"What did I say? I love you?" he asked.

"No," she answered, "But I love you too."

"What did I say?" he asked, grinning like a fool at her declaration, the temptation to immediately act on this revelation contested by the desire to know what had given him away.

She matched his smile with a brilliant one of her own - partially influenced by the answer she was about to give - as she imagined the realm of new possibilities just opened to them.

"Minerva Dumbledore."