A/N: This is without a doubt, the longest one-shot I have written in one sitting to date (from the first line onwards, anyway). As such, it probably sounds rushed and poorly prepared. I am well-aware, I assure you, but there was nothing in my power that I could possibly do to fix it properly; as a result I am posting more out of boredom than anything. However, there are too things that you, as a reader, need to know before we can begin... Two asterisks (**) mean a slight change in POV. (I happen to do that often without realizing it, but this time I decided to point them out to you.) Another thing-- a line is just a separation from one point in time to another. They are where I would have originally cut this down into chapters. I realized at once that I didn't want to deal with posting "chapters" when I really don't classify the breaks as such; this should explain why I am posting this whole thing at once. Now, I am sorry for all of that nonsense that I am certain most of you skipped. I shan't bother you, my dear readers, again. (Though I lie; I know I will.) Without further ado, may I present...
The Blood of Azkaban
The dream was in color.
It was a simple, ordinary thing to notice- one normally would dream in color, having observed color all his life. Yet, there was a contrasting figure here- he no longer saw color. Color was another luxury, a most exquisite thing that was not allowed to those who dwelt within the same walls that embodied the very definition of solitary confinement. To say that he dreamed in color was extraordinary here, for color no longer held a place, neither did it hold a meaning.
He wished he still had color.
Oh, but this separation from color taught him how grand it truly was! He saw it, surely, as an ordinary thing at first, but staying here now, sitting here now, upon the blood of those who had died upon that very stone floor, the incredibility of it all was restored to its former brilliance, the brilliance that can only be seen as a child. How he wished he were a child again, and could see the world for the first time.
Save for that small aspect…
He resolved he would remember the incredibility and nothing more, for his past still contained the serpents he wished were slain. They continued to infect him with their venom, never to cease, even if he believed for but a moment that he had found an antidote. They infected him daily as a part of life, for they were a part of him now, as they were the day they were born. He dwelt not on the things which upset him most because he felt compelled to live in his past, but rather, examined them for the sole purpose of making the future better, brighter, full of greater hope for them all…
Hope was another exquisite thing.
It was near to impossible to remember life as he had spent so long ago. A month had passed, and he had yet to discover a way to relive his life in his reality as well as in his dreams. He was a very gifted wizard- this quandary should have a solid answer somewhere. Yet, as hard as he tried, he could not drown out what he experienced daily. The shrieks of those in pain remained as awful as they did upon his first evening; the blood oozing from his fingertips continued to burn; his unkempt hair continued to tangle; the horror he witnessed continued to mount. The only thing that appeared to improve was the overwhelming stench he had to endure upon his arrival; perhaps he was simply getting used to the smell of rotting flesh.
He observed with the oldest eyes, of those people who suffered in pain and insanity. Most were Death Eaters; he knew that. Yet, he could not help but wonder what a second chance would do for a lot of them. Dementors still roamed the place, providing no means to escape the mental hell that embraced them all, yet, this single old man was alone, and appeared untouchable. His soul and sanity remained intact. How could this be?
He remained beautiful. Not on the outside at least- he had not bathed for weeks, and he realized that with every new day, the itch to cleanse himself was slowly subsiding. Yet, in the inside, upon the inside dwelt his heart and all of those precious, colorful memories within it. It mattered not that his clothes were the tattered remnants of a uniform of a man three times his size in width, but only half his size in height. It mattered not that the ends of his hair and beard were now indistinguishable. It mattered not that he kept to himself, even when the other prisoners pried him for company -he learned the hard way to keep to himself; people stuck here were vicious and not very nice-. What mattered was that he enforced the only weapon of optimism as a way of defense against the elements, against the dementors, against the agony he endured. He could not suffer if he was not in the right mindset for it. He knew that and executed it to his advantage, for he had to cleave unto his sanity save his release come one day…
He held on for her. Of course, it was always for her. He thought about her more than he thought was ordinarily possible. He used to think of her constantly, yet now, she was the only thought of conceptual value in his mind. Other thoughts included pictures, sounds, smells, tastes… His stomach ruled triumphant over all apart from these thoughts of her. These thoughts of her were neither happy nor sad, neither triumphant nor anguished. They simply kept him alive and sane, and that was his sole purpose. The concept of returning to his beloved school into the waiting arms of his wife gladdened his heart immensely- he would carry her heart in the end. It was as it always was. He would carry her home and silence her fears and kiss her forehead and hold her close and stroke her tenderly. That is what he lived for, after all. What purpose was in suffering if joy did not exist thereafter upon survival?
There was a scratching sound at his cell door, but Albus Dumbledore was quick today for food. He dove to the small doggy door cut into his door and pushed his tarnished bowl through it just before he heard the broth slap within it. He also perceived a second slap and a smile grew on his face- he also had a newspaper. Newspapers were rare and another luxury. Doused in gruel like this, it was worth more than a hundred galleons to those who wished to know what was going on outside of prison. He was very interested in knowing these things. Perhaps it was the Ministry official feeling a bit lighthearted today. Whatever the reason, Albus decided to peruse the soppy, week-old paper first with his dirty hands, as he always did upon lucky days such as these.
He retreated into his slightly warmer corner with his slop and paper before he began to read…
"Hogwarts Professor Attacked!"
It was upon yesterday evening that Professor Minerva M. McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was attacked with four stunning spells to the chest by ministry officials. Witnesses say that her attack was an 'unfortunate accident', and it is currently being investigated. Further details will be given in the evening edition…
Albus had to read the script several times before the meaning sunk in to lace even his bones with great worry…
Minerva had been attacked.
Minerva had been attacked.
Minerva had been attacked.
But no, this could not be. Minerva was stronger than this. Minerva was far more proper than this. Minerva was definitely braver than her own good, and this sounded so much like her, but no. The thought of his wife, attacked to such a great extent pulverized of what remained of his heart.
And, for the first time since his arrival, he screamed, realizing with painful clarity that the dementors swarming him now were to have a heyday. Tears fell from his cheeks, but they were no longer clear like rain; they shone like crimson.
And no further thought of her could silence his cries of agony.
She wandered. This never-ending journey was the journey between light and darkness- the meridian between life and death. She danced so elegantly upon that fine line that unraveled, becoming thinner every new dawning. Anxiety welled within her, as a great compressing wariness clutched the pounding heart in her breast; if she danced today, there would no longer be a reason to wake the next morning… Dancing, though a great pleasure, now had its limits. Today was the decision, the final bridge between reality and dreams. Tonight was her final night in this choking darkness…
She awoke in further darkness. The figments of her imagination faded into nothingness, and her eyes pulled the surroundings that eclipsed her with such swift eagerness into her optic nerves that she closed her eyes before the clenching vertigo nearly consumed her… Nausea pulled at her throat, but she fought past it. Panting heavily, she opened her eyes again with all her might, and as she looked again into her silent surroundings, she realized where she was.
St. Mungo's. Of course.
She should have expected it; injuries such as hers were bound to be too great for the mere school to tend her… She shivered at the grotesque vision of Poppy that swam before her; Poppy's incessantly worried face sickened her. Breathing through the nausea was no longer enough, and Minerva McGonagall pushed herself to her feet, hurtling herself towards the loo at the end of her rooms, forgetting to breathe when the pain tore relentlessly through her. She threw up then, and leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain lid of the toilet… She was burning with fever…Infection…Oh, joy.
She had the courage for many things, but she lacked the courage tonight to look at the injuries that screamed at her to cut her spirit from her body. If death was so awful, why did she desire it tonight?
Crawling back to bed appealed to her; she was so weak. Yet, though the injuries weakened her physically, her mental physique was as stubborn as always. Minerva pulled herself to her feet, using the wall as a guide, before walking out to open floor, hoping she did not plummet into the depths of hell before her… A fall would only slow her progress to heal. Whatever it took, she would not slip.
Then, she saw him. An apparition of sorts; perhaps she yet dreamed-- he was beautiful, as always. He looked just as he did before they took him away. His eyes… they still sparkled. They still dreamed. They still kissed her heart as they brushed across every inch of her.
"Minerva," he whispered, his voice full of love, unwavering in his devotion. He held out his hand, and she gratefully clasped it, forgetting to be embarrassed, and forgetting to condemn him for his sweet concern.
"Albus," she whispered to the open air, and gained strength enough to fall back upon her cool sheets; how they beckoned her! She sighed before the exertion fully gripped her, and she fell into a light stupor of unconsciousness. A healer rushed in at once, alerted to her state of distress before he tended to her. He cast many spells of soothing chill before she came around, opening her eyes again and groaning before falling asleep.
The healer wiped the sweat from his brow before he exited the room, fully confident that the incident would not happen again. Though his patient remained ill with infection, her fever would break within a few days… It was simply shocking that she had woken. Most who survived cursing to such an extent did not live pass the sleep as she had…
"Dumbledore?"
He crushed his eyes finely against the voice; sound hurt so much these days… He would not wake. Perhaps he could convince whoever was interrupting his nap that waiting five minutes more was not an awful thing. He slipped into his sleep again, sighing as his dream briefly returned to him. Why could his memory not let her go? Even in dire circumstances such as these, he could not let her go; despite the agony it caused him to cleave unto her…
"Dumbledore?"
The voice...that incessant voice. Albus gritted his teeth against the sound before speaking.
"Yes?"
A pause. "They're askin' for yeh…"
Albus leapt to his feet. "Rubeus? Is that you?"
"Yes, Professor…"
Albus smiled; the grin felt so refreshing. "I have never been gladder in my life to hear your voice." Then he frowned; what was Hagrid doing here? "May I ask what you are doing here?"
"They're releasin' yeh… I've come to take yeh back ter Hogwarts."
Albus could hear the strain in his voice; something was horribly, horribly wrong. "Hagrid, there is something that you are not telling me…"
"I've got ter send yeh back…"
"Hagrid," Albus began warningly.
"No one else would go fer yeh. I chose this… They captured me just as we was crossing through Albania. Fang's probly scared outta his wits, the poor creature."
Albus's concern escalated by his choice of words. "What do you mean that you chose this?"
Hagrid sighed before relating at last, "They gave me a choice… I would be captured now or later, see. I asked fer later. They didn't like that. The group finally convinced me ter go fer you… They know yer--" Hagrid paused before choking, "diff'rent… Tha' was the goal, see… Ter break yeh. I can't see yeh, but I know yer diff'rent, just like they said…"
Albus was silent; it sounded so much like Umbridge, to torment him here, while he remained sick with worry for his students, his staff, his wife… Now he would worry for Hagrid. Exponentially for Hagrid. Now he ached for the decision Hagrid had mantled, the burden he would carry. It was too much. It was too awful.
"Hagrid," Albus began, tears threatening to leak into his voice, but he forced his voice to remain dormant, as the tears ran down his face. "My dear boy, you didn't have to--"
"--but I wanted to. Yeh've been so kind ter me; I thought I would repay yeh fer it. Hogwarts needs yeh. The students, the professirs, need yeh. Minerva needs yeh."
Albus shivered at the mention; yes, Minerva needed him. Perhaps more so than he needed her.
"Stand back, sir," another voice said. Albus obeyed before the door swung open, revealing Hagrid and one of the Ministry guards. Albus eyed Hagrid and was shocked to see him already wearing the prison clothes. It was apparent that he was taking the very cell he would leave.
They stared at one another for a moment, the both of them beyond any coherent words.
"Hagrid--"
"Goodbye Profess'r Dumbledore."
"How can I ever repay--"
Hagrid nodded at this, "Yeh don't need ter. Make all well again… Tha's payment enough."
Albus nodded his head in reply, still in shock, in grief… in pain. He looked at Hagrid just before the door swung shut with a heavy bang. How was this freedom if he left an innocent soul behind him?
Albus followed the much shorter Ministry official down a series of slimy tunnels, occasionally glancing out to view the full moon that would stun the world with its brilliance. As Albus passed the final window before they plunged into an all-consuming darkness, he could have sworn he heard a scream that sounded remarkably like the gamekeeper's voice. Albus only hated himself more for allowing the boy to take his place. How his enemies knew him well! He would never forgive himself for this; he wouldn't…
It was in a pitch-black room that they suddenly stopped. The ministry official behind him vaulted the door before lighting it with the aid of his wand. As the surroundings came into focus, Albus saw three more Ministry officials, all of whom were much larger than he was.
The largest of the three, surely a half-giant, seized him first, and Albus silently succumbed to his bidding. The half-giant conjured a chair from thin air before bodily placing Albus upon it. He surveyed his captors in silence as the Ministry officials shaved his hair and beard in all entities, leaving him nearly bald and shamed like a naked lamb. After this was through, the ceiling moved a circular portion away, revealing to him lights brighter than he remembered; Azkaban never seemed to be so alight.
It was suddenly that the floor beneath him lurched, and his chair rose to those Ministry leaders in the old trial chamber, who stared at his unkempt appearance. There were chains by his filthy feet, but they weakly acknowledged his presence before falling back to the floor.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?"
He nodded placidly to the Minister who read his entire name in disgust. Some of the congregation snickered at the revelation… Albus judged the reaction to be from the state of his appearance.
"You were sent to Azkaban on charges of creating an army to terrorize the citizens of the Wizarding World, and to fully eradicate the organization of the Ministry of Magic, correct?"
"Yes," he said, looking anywhere but directly at the Minister… If he was 'different', it was only beneficial to play the part.
"You were aware that this was against the law?"
"Yes sir," he replied quietly.
"You were also aware that this would become a part of your criminal record?"
"Yes."
Some of the judges in shadow murmured at the notion. Albus smiled inwardly at the thought; perhaps there were still some that believed in him.
"Minister?" one of the interrogators in the dark, unseen to Albus questioned.
The minister turned to her.
"Yes?"
"Well, I was just thinking if --well-- if we are to release the man, does the crime have to remain on his record? If he has done his time, is there any reason for leaving a crime on his record?"
Others murmured in agreement before Cornelius Fudge silenced them with an impatient wave of his hand.
"Do we fully erase the wrongs of those who have murdered? Do we release them into the public where they can prey again upon the innocent public?"
"Minister, this man has not murdered anyone!"
Fudge glared in her direction, and Albus chanced a glance up to the general direction of her... why did her voice seem so familiar? It was not in her voice exactly, but in the words… how they were pronounced…
"I believe you need to check your sources, Madam! This man has murdered! He murdered the innocent hearts of those young children attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! They no longer approve of the Ministry! Not to mention the murder of a particularly glorified man in 1945!"
"Grindelwald was not glorious!" she shouted back. "Grindelwald sought to kill all those who were not of entire Pureblood heritage! How is that comparable to glory?! He saved countless souls by killing a single man who threatened to murder an entire nation! He saved your life in this deed!"
Albus glanced to Fudge and noticed the deep purple and red blotches ballooning on his chubby face. Albus had to suppress a grin; it was a first that someone had stood up to the Minister in a hearing, and Albus admired the untouchable courage of the woman shouting at Cornelius.
"Madam Trife, if you say another word against me in this manner, I will personally fire you!"
"You needn't! I QUIT!" Madam Trife shouted as she suddenly rose with great dignity and stomped her way out of the circular room, which caused a great commotion to rise among the crowd. Albus looked curiously after the slammed door and began to wonder; who would quit a job under the influence of a trial for him?
"Silence!"
The jury was silent at once, and Dumbledore stared wistfully at the floor, fighting again, the impulse to grin.
"You will not mention this to anyone you know?"
Albus looked up slowly to the Minister's face, feeling no fear but feigning every bit of it.
"No."
Fudge glanced around him before an important male's voice inquired, "Those in favor of clearing this man of all charges?"
Albus looked and saw every hand go up, with the exception of the Minister's pompous one.
"Cleared of all charges," Fudge said simply, leaving them all without another word. Albus remained in his chair as a beaming woman with hazel eyes and ginger hair handed him back his wand.
"That was a very interesting trial. I say you should get in trouble more often…"
Albus chuckled, sweeping his wand over him to replace his robes, hair, and beard to their proper and cleansed order. "Thank you, my dear, but I would not count on it. I say if Madam Trife had not been so outspoken on the matter, I surely would have gone back to prison."
"Indeed… Madam Trife is a very interesting woman. I thought the department's decision rather strange when they hired her, but I am glad they did. If her only deed was to remove you from prison, then her tenure was well-worth it."
Albus frowned slightly, "Only deed?"
"Oh yes," the woman replied, nodding slightly, "Madam Trife was only hired a fortnight ago… I find it rather curious she would quit because of a single trial… I've seen quite a few trials in my day, but never one like this…"
Albus nodded quickly, discouraging her to reveal the rest of her past with him. "Please excuse me, Miss--?"
"Ferrin… My name's Gladys," she added mischievously.
"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Miss Ferrin," Albus said politely, shaking her hand and nodding, "but I must be off. There is something that requires my attention most immediately."
"Indeed, Professor. Don't let me keep you."
Albus thanked her for understanding and ran off, desperate to find the woman who had freed him.
It was only by a sheer stroke of luck that her denouncement of her new occupation occurred just as she sensed the effects fully changing; it was by pure chance that she had landed her seat in the darkness because of those more experienced judges sitting above her… Though the low position would have frankly insulted employees who had been judging their entire lives, it did not bother her a bit. The darkness was a bonus to what she had acquired… She had won.
She fumbled in her robes a moment before extracting a vial and drinking to his freedom; the joy was sweeter than any ecstasy she could remember experiencing… She had saved him.
Glancing to her office, she knew she needed to clean up and leave before the Minister got there. She quickly assembled her meager possessions into a small, disguised carpetbag that she carried with her on long trips and fit everything snugly within it. It was also only by the grace of Merlin that she did not require the use of the ornamented cane she thought she would, but being a young woman did have some benefits…
The knock on her door startled her, and she grasped her mien of composure before allowing the door to open, expecting her undersecretary to appear. But appear she did not as Madam Trife took in the appearance of the one and only man she would ever save in such a position.
"Hello," he said quietly, apparently embarrassed at having disturbed her duty of packing her things. She grinned on the inside; he was so darling like that.
"Good evening," she addressed curtly as she ran her fingers through her wiry brown hair, smoothing it behind her ears with great annoyance and trembling hands; she feared that he was only here because he suspected something as she turned to face the front of her desk. She was glad to see him in his ordinary sapphire robes, but the poorly disguised shadow of sorrow behind his otherwise twinkling azure eyes caused her almost more grief than she could stomach.
"I am sorry to interrupt--"
"--there was nothing to interrupt, really. I am not in a great hurry," she admitted, gesturing to the nearly empty office. "I didn't have much to pack, seeing as I brought little."
"You were not planning on remaining in this position long," he observed aloud.
She nodded. "Yes."
She turned to him, and eyed him curiously. "What business is it of yours, anyhow?"
His cheeks were rosy, and she fought a battle with her lips against the smile forming there. "I just wanted to…"
"Thank me?" she questioned mysteriously. "There is nothing to thank… Being yourself was the only way I could get you out of there. I did not believe you had done anything wrong, so I thought someone should represent you. I was more than annoyed to see that the windbag," (Albus grinned at her adjective for the Minister), "was not going to allow you any representation." She shook her head disdainfully. "I, for one, am most regretful that he was not within arm's length when I read your court papers. Perhaps it is better for a man to have his neck, for without a neck, there is no head, and a headless Minister would be certainly disturbing…"
"You have a most gruesome sense of humor."
She smiled then. "It is the only way to keep others away from me. No man wants a woman who speaks of others in such a way."
Albus nodded. "Indeed, I can see your reasoning."
Madam Trife frowned a moment, brushing imaginary dirt from her crimson robes before inquiring, "Is there anything else you wished to discuss?"
Albus reddened a second time, and Madam Trife gloated in her silent victory. "I am sorry to have kept you from your packing…"
"It is quite all right. I suppose I am not very used to a man who will withstand the most ghastly of conversations."
Albus chuckled. "I see," he nodded before walking out of the room with her as she meticulously swung her bag in an effort to control her very being.
**
When they finally reached the outdoors, Albus shielded his eyes from the brightening celestial sky.
"Is there something wrong, Professor?" Madam Trife asked as she too viewed the sunrise. Albus shook his head before deciding to whisper in her ear.
"I am not used to the sky being so bright anymore…"
To his surprise, Madam Trife donned an unearthly white color before saying quietly, "Oh yes… I understand…"
Albus was far too curious. "Is there something wrong?"
Madam Trife shook her head forcibly. "I just recall that another took your place… Your gamekeeper?"
Albus blanched too.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as they slipped into the rural workings of the Wizarding World.
He sighed before saying, "I'm only sorry you couldn't save his soul as well… Poor Hagrid. He has been through so much already."
Madam Trife frowned suddenly before saying, "Professor Dumbledore?"
"Yes?"
She hesitated; Albus sensed her apprehension and soothed her fears with a pat to the hand. "Go on," he urged.
"Is it possible that you and I could speak in a more private setting? I promise I won't bite."
Albus smiled at her last remark. "Of course, my dear, but I fear that I have a previous engagement… I daresay that I will be detained for the entire day."
Madam Trife sensed his desire to leave her, but she was rather insistent. "Professor Dumbledore, this will only take ten minutes, and I cannot meet you at any other time. I will not hold you for the entire morning, I promise."
"Two promises within two minutes. This must be serious," he teased.
Madam Trife rolled her eyes at him. "Do be professional, Professor. I only intend to tell you further information that only I know."
Albus needed no further persuasion.
"Where shall we meet?"
It was within five minutes that they were in front of a small residence; it apparently belonged to Madam Trife. She unlocked the door with a hasty spell before pushing him inside.
The interior was dark and dreary, and notably held the air of neglect. It was clear that though Madam Trife owned the small home, she had not yet felt reason to call it home.
"I do apologize for our depressing surroundings," Madam Trife explained sourly, looking towards the fire grate that still had debris in it from the previous owner with a scandalized glare. "I had to purchase this quickly and I preferred it near to the Ministry…"
"How peculiar," Albus acknowledged, facing her at this revelation. "You could always Apparate or use a fireplace to arrive at the Ministry, you know…"
"I am neither fond of Apparation or the Floo system," she shot back irritably, drawing up a table and two chairs with her wand. She placed them in a corner nearest to the fire, and removed the grime from the window so they could discuss in natural light.
Albus looked at her curiously. "Why is this so?"
"I have been known to empty my stomach on other people…"
Albus grinned. "So now the truth comes out."
Madam Trife glared at him before saying, "Would you like me to tell you what I know, or not?"
Albus's grin vanished as he prepared himself to endure what Madam Trife had to say. Something in his heart of hearts told him that what she was going to say was not going to be what he expected…
"Firstly, Professor Dumbledore, they do not have Rubeus Hagrid as they believe they do…"
"But, Hagrid--"
"Yes, he has played the part very, very well… Whom they have at the moment is truly a prisoner, who should have been in there since the beginning. The ministry official who led him to your cell? He selected the use of the Imperius curse upon him… I had to pay the official a hefty amount of gold to convince him to do this, but for a large amount, he did what I told him to do. Who they have in prison now is Lucius Malfoy."
Albus frowned incredulously. "How did you manage this?"
"Simply," she drawled, summoning a bottle of Firewhiskey and pouring them each a glass with her wand. "It took quite a bit of magic to make him resemble Rubeus, as you do know Polyjuice would have no affect whatsoever on a transformation… The effects are not permanent!" she added hastily, seeing the look in Dumbledore's eyes and silencing his fears. "I checked them over a dozen times before using them. They will eventually wear off in about a month… Even so, this month gives the real Rubeus a chance to escape further condemnation before his name is entirely free from prison. Malfoy, on the other hand… His criminal record is quite extensive, and the Ministry would have found it necessary to capture him anyway…"
"Remarkable," Dumbledore said in awe, praising her intellect as he took a sip of his Firewhiskey. "I cannot thank you enough," he said gratefully.
"You will thank me further if I reveal to you all that I yearn to reveal to you…"
Albus raised his eyebrows in interest, "I am listening."
Madam Trife looked up at him deeply, caressing his face with the motion of her eyes. The gaze made Albus feel very uncomfortable and he cleared his throat before Madam Trife reeled in realization.
"I am sorry," she said quickly.
"There was no harm done," Albus soothed, touching her hand briefly before shrewdly revealing the sparkling ring on his left hand. "It is quite all right."
"Oh, you're married!" she squeaked, covering her mouth with her free hand. "I'm so sorry! I feel incredibly embarrassed now."
"There, there," Albus soothed again, "I as I said before, there was no harm done, but I really must be heading off to her now…"
"Is she worried terribly?" Madam Trife wondered aloud.
Albus looked at her, and she noticed the quiet tears pooling in his eyes. "Can you keep a secret?" he whispered.
Madam Trife nodded quickly, looking to his brilliant ring before drowning in his brilliant eyes again.
"My wife… It was she who was attacked nearly a month ago."
"Professor McGonagall?" Madam Trife inquired in a reverent whisper.
"Yes… I have never yearned to see her more than on the day I heard of her distress. It was an awful night…"
**
"I'll expect it was," Madam Trife nodded solemnly, and then added mysteriously, "but you needn't worry yourself unnecessarily."
Albus was surprised; did the younger generation not love as well as the elder one? "I beg your pardon?"
"You needn't worry yourself unnecessarily… She is fine."
There was something in her voice that begged Albus to trust her. She seemed so certain, so refined, so… familiar. Who was this woman? Why had he spent more than half an hour with her? "How can you be so sure?"
Madam Trife inhaled audibly before saying, "Do the very eyes of the great Albus Dumbledore deceive him so?"
Albus's eyes snapped to Madam Trife's at once, and he watched in shock as the woman melted into whom he had been aching for the past month. His mouth fell open as he quickly moved before her, pulling her into his arms before he kissed her all over.
"Can…you…let…me…breathe?" Minerva questioned irritably, but Albus only grinned as he kissed her once more in earnest before allowing her the courtesy of breath.
"Yes, I was Madam Trife all along. I thought that perhaps you could see right through me once I began defending you so passionately, but the risk was worth it. I planned it all…"
Albus shook his head incredulously, boggled that she could convince everyone in her midst so effortlessly, including him. "My dear," he began his voice thick with emotion, "how on earth did you manage?"
"That is a story for another time," she ordered. "All I want for now is to hold you in my arms… The entire explanation can wait until tomorrow… I am certain the school is in capable hands. I left Rolanda in charge before I fell completely to St. Mungo's care."
Albus chuckled at the ruckus the Flying Instructor must be causing at the very moment before he carried his love up the stairs toward the unkempt bedroom, taking care to clean the covers of dust before setting Minerva upon it. He came and laid beside her, anxious to let her just lay in his arms as the day gave way to night, and the night fully carried them away to sleep.
"Are you going to be detained for the rest of the evening, Professor Dumbledore?" Minerva questioned playfully as he pulled her into his arms.
Albus chuckled before confessing, "Of course, my dear. Of course."
Dusk met them both awake. Albus chuckled as he pressed his lips to the side of Minerva's face before she shakily pushed herself up into a sitting position. Albus winced as he viewed the pain she was in, but she brushed his worry aside.
"I am quite all right, Albus," she said sternly, waving his concerned hands away. "The Healers said that I would be sore for a great many weeks following my release, but I no longer cared. I wanted out of the hellhole. I wanted to release you as well. I knew that you would be worried once you heard…"
Albus nodded, recalling the night he had discovered the news. "Yes, it was awful when I found out. I thought for certain the dementors had me. I had been keeping peace with them until that night. I knew that you would be in a great deal of pain and that I would not be able to visit you until it was too late. I feared that you would die before I could visit you… I wept blood that night."
Minerva reached over, caressing his face with her left hand, freezing the pain the action produced with a swift curse word. Albus looked to her at once, and withdrew his wand from within his robes. He whispered a pain-numbing spell under his breath and though his attentions angered her for a moment, the relief the spell granted silenced her at once.
"Thank you, love," she said quietly, combing through his beard a moment before letting him go again.
Albus nodded and smiled at her. "No, thank you…"
Minerva shook her head before relating in a voice brimming with authority, "As I was saying---"
"---I am sorry. No more interruptions, I promise. I will be a good little boy and I will listen to everything you must tell me," he said playfully as Minerva's nostrils flared and she frowned, though the sparkle in her emerald eyes set the glare off by a few yards.
"I pushed myself to heal faster. I actually came down with an infection, and I forced myself to stay awake whenever I sensed healers in the room, discussing my fate. Not only to please them, but to hear of my prognosis. There was one night they thought I was going to die. It was shortly after coming down with the infection, but even as I felt strength fading from me, and saw the darkness that began to consume me, I forced myself to lie awake. If I was awake, I could not die. I know now that at the time, I was delirious with pain, but I forced myself to live because of you. I could not die without you there… I knew that you could not make it to me in time, so I decided then to live to save you from your hellhole that was far worse than my own. I became fierce in my plot to stay alive… Death seemed so very tempting sometimes, but I forced myself away with horrible thoughts of you living in Azkaban, and I knew I could not die without trying to excuse you for the crime you did not commit… I could not leave without at least giving it a try…"
Albus listened yet again, in awe. Such strength he could never even begin to imagine for his own self.
"What did you do first?" he asked reverently.
Minerva sighed before admitting, "I took on the identity of one of my own distant family… There truly is a Madam Trife in my family, but she is absolutely mad. I believe that no one even knows of her existence besides what little remains of my family, and the Ministry, of course. What I mean by that is the Ministry has her listed in their records, but no one knows her as I do. Retrieving her hair for the Polyjuice Potion I smuggled out of Hogwarts was nothing, really… What was difficult was smuggling the Potion. I feared that Poppy would give me away, but she succeeded in raiding Snape's potion stores to send me some flasks of it, even though she wrote to me openly, telling me that I was absolutely crazy."
Albus grinned; that sounded so much like Poppy.
"After I had done that, I applied for a position. The Ministry was rather impressed with me, and my hiring immediately followed suit. I took on a position that had only been open a few weeks… I kept up my image until the very end… when you appeared…
"You were so broken. I feared that you had become so, and I nearly forfeited my plan entirely, but something told me to continue on, to throw a blazing cauldron of blast-ended skrewts at the minister to all he had done to you. That is where I gathered my fire… My love for you drove me to the very edge of the earth, and I pressed on, falling until I could fall no more."
Albus was quiet as she glanced at him. Unable to suppress the urge, Minerva touched his face and as he closed his eyes, she smiled. "I was ever so glad to watch you meet me afterwards, for then I knew I was successful, and here you are."
"I could never do what you have done," Albus praised. Minerva shook her head, a wry smile twisting on her lips.
"Of course you could. Love makes one do very strange things," she pointed out. Then Albus pulled her until she was flush up against him, and when he knew she was comfortable there, he kissed her deeply. When they resurfaced, Minerva was panting.
"That is true," he agreed, "but love also brings out the best in us. I am eternally in your debt, my dearest Minerva."
"You are not, for we are both one. We have repaid one another… There is no more debt. We are together."
Albus grinned at her and kissed her again; he couldn't agree more.
A/N: That wasn't too painful or too easy to figure out, was it? :D I must confess to deciding that Miss Ferrin is probably me... I didn't think she was at first, but upon analyzing her more fully, she is indeed me. -sighs- If she ever crops up again, I counsel you dear readers to avoid her-- she's insane. -chuckles-