DISCLAIMER: Nope. Not mine. Used shamelessly and without remorse.

A/N: Yes, it's been a long time. Life, you know… But I'm back, with a new account (don't ask), MMADer than ever! I don't know if it's in canon but I thought MM's eyes were blue. However, after One Dance At A Time, I can't imagine them been anything but green! Everyone should read that story.

SUMMARY: Why did Dumbledore leave Minerva behind when Fugde tryied to
arrest him? Or maybe he didn't...

DUMBLEDORE'S STYLE

"So" sneered Fudge, recovering himself, "you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?"

"Merlin's beard, no" said Dumbledore, smiling. "Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to."

"He will not be single-handed!" said Professor McGonagall loudly, plunging her hands inside her robes.

"Oh yes he will, Minerva!" said Dumbledore sharply. "Hogwarts needs you!"

"I will not sit idly by watching you fall!" replied a furious McGonagall.

Dumbledore was mid-striked. Surely she wanted to help, but she was loosing her temper rather easily. He needed to act. Fast.

"Enough of this sentimental rubbish!" said Fugde. "Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!"

A streak of silver light flashed around the room. There was a bang like a gunshot, and the floor trembled. Then the sound of breaking glass, a groan - and silence.

"Are you all right?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes!" whispered Professor McGonagall getting up while forcing the two students further under his desk.

The dust was clearing.

"Where will you go, Dumbledore?"

There was no reply.

She caught his eyes, her big green ones begging him to reconsider.

"We've been through this" he said as he altered the Minister, Dolores and the aurors' memory whilst doing his best to avoid her eyes.

"I know, but..."

"The time for doubts has long passed, Minerva." This was a very much discussed topic over the last couple of weeks and he wouldn't let her revive them again. He was ready. This was it.

"You could use my help."

"I know." He said simply. "And I also know that the students need you now more than I do." This was ridiculous. He was a grown wizard after all. And not any ordinary wizard. No sir. He was Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, thank you very much.

Her pledging green eyes were replaced by an all-business façade.

"They will be waking up soon, Dumbledore."

"And when they do, I shall be long gone." He answered absent-minded as he signaled for Fawkes.

"I won't let you." He looked up abruptly at her. Now this was absurd.

"I'm telling you Dumbledore, you certainly don't want to fight me now. We can't afford to loose precious time."

"We?!" Dumbledore sighted. "Is this really necessary, my dear?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is!" her McGonagall-temper was taking over, and he knew it.

There was some coughing sound in the room. The clock was working against him. He needed to make a decision. Fast. And, of course, he had already made it long before her argument. Who was he fooling anyway?

He sighted deeply. "Alas. You should hold on tightly." He afforded a small smile, twinkle and everything, offering his hand.

She, too, smiled, holding his arm. Dumbledore closed his grip on Fawkes' tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them had gone.

"Where is he?" yelled Fudge, pushing himself up from the ground.

"And where is Professor McGonagall?!" Dolores shrieked, her fury making her broad, flabby face look quite sinister.

"You know, Minister" said Phineas Nigellus's portrait "I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts… but you cannot deny he's got style…"