Disclaimer: I didn't create Harry Potter, and I don't pretend I did. Don't sue me. Don't steal my original characters. That's it.\
After without further mishap escorting the effusive yet nearly combustive woman to her bedroom near the Gryffindor tower, McGonagall hurried as fast as her shriveling arthritic legs could carry her to the Teacher's Lounge. She was met upon her entrance, not surprisingly, with the faces of practically half the other teachers in the school.
"Oh dear Merlin who the hell was that?" Impatient young Temperance Ferguson, teacher of Ancient Runes, spoke up as she doused her cigarette against a marble bust of Picantruos. She was the only one at Hogwarts who smoked the wretched Muggle things, and everyone hated her for it. However, being that she was an excellent teacher, and that she spent most of her time out in her excavation pits anyways, everyone had learned to tolerate her habit when she brought it indoors.
"She better not be my new assistant." Rubeus Hagrid had gotten the idea into his head that his request for help with the magical beasts was heeded by anyone.
"She'd be best advised to stay away from the dungeons" Severus Snape's silky dour voice rose above the mess, the consistency of souring milk just with a touch of green. No one paid him any attention.
"I think I've seen her before in that Muggle movie picture, Love Tells All Tales, isn't that right?" Garrulous little Filius Flitwick blushed deeply at stating this revealing comment when he realized what he had said.
"You're utterly mistaken, that woman is no more a Muggle than I'm a house elf." Snape wrinkled his heavy nose, not liking his previous comment being completely ignored.
McGonagall's eyelids fluttered with annoyance.
"She's not a Muggle, no, Severus. Her name is Greta Muhlenkamp, and she is filling the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher this year, since Remus had the misfortune to require…departure." Minerva purposefully fired this attack towards Snape, who had been, in her eyes, wholly responsible for what had been spoken of ever since in hush-hush manner as 'the Incident.'
Snape snarled and shut up.
McGonagall collapsed onto a settee next to Albus Dumbledore, who, at the time, was the only one sitting. "Albus, if you weren't in the room, I'd simply swear that I was getting too old for this."
Albus's eyes twinkled beneath his glasses. "Perhaps we both are."
McGonagall pretended to ignore the comment, but a thoughtful look remained on her face.
Snape, at this point, strode to the door angrily. "Just keep that woman away from my dungeons and my sanity shall remain intact." With such, he made his brisk departure.
Ferguson rolled her eyes flamboyantly and lit another cig. "Just keep that man away from anywhere but his dungeons and our sanity will never run the risk of being lost."
"Temperance! I would think you were ineptly named," Albus said, his voice just on the borderline of firm and harsh.
Temperance shrugged indifferently. "So I've been told…all my life…"
Albus continued, ignoring this interruption. "Severus' bark is far worse than his bite, but even that doesn't mean that we can go about disrespecting him behind his back."
"Huh, yeah. I wouldn't mind disrespecting the man in his face!" Temperance was full of charm and grace ordinarily; besides, she was a woman. That must have been why everyone liked her well enough despite her nicotine obsession, when they all loathed Severus. Perhaps, if Snape used L'Oreal and wore skirts, his witticisms would be better regarded. At least, better regarded by everyone besides Dumbledore.
Albus himself looked rather hurt. "Temperance, do try and keep a civil tongue."
"Never you mind, I'll get out before you get that far." With a flashy half-grin, Temperance picked up her scarlet purse from the table and strode out, her hips swaying provocatively in the too-tight gray tweed suit-skirt she wore.
"Uh…I'll be off myself; I forgot to…well, I have to…er, bye." And Flitwick trotted off in hot pursuit of the young (at least in his eyes) woman.
"Well, I guess it be teatime after all," Hagrid looked towards the door. "Care to come round my place for a bite?"
McGonagall opened her mouth to reply, but Albus was too quick for her. "Certainly, Rubeus. Do join us." Albus looked at McGonagall carefully.
"Only, let us have tea up here. You forget how…old…us two are getting. Stairs are not as friendly as they used to be, I daresay."
Rubeus nodded his giant head and winked at Albus. "Right. I'll go and be gettin' sum scones…be back in a jiffy." With as much, he admitted himself with some difficulty out the door.
McGonagall turned her head to look at Albus. "Is there something going on I ought to know about?"
"My dear, how could you even think such a thing?" Albus' tone sounded hurt, but his face was alight with anticipation.
"Well, Hagrid made it only too obvious with his little winking regime. What are you up to?" But all at once, Minerva's face fell, and she stood up as though swept in a sudden chill. "Oh. No. Five years on this date have elapsed since the last time…" She stood, facing Albus directly in the eye. Her voice and face spoke as though she were reprimanding a bad dog.
"It has indeed, my dear, and I'll go through the motions again even if you've seen it nine times before." And so Albus Dumbledore dug in his pocket and withdrew a small blue velvet box, worn with age. And so he got up off the couch, and actually went on one knee before Minerva, holding the box. His face, for once, was all earnest seriousness.
"Minerva McGonagall, you're the most beautiful woman in the world…will you marry me?"
Almost suspiciously, McGonagall opened the blue box. Inside was a gleaming, beautiful silver ring, with a single diamond nestled on top. The diamond was surrounded by nine tiny, perfect pearls.
"You added another pearl," was all that she could say.
"That was for the last time you refused, of course."
"Of course." McGonagall was silent.
Albus closed his eyes. "Is this another 'no', then?"
McGonagall was quiet. "Albus," her lips barely moved.
Dumbledore's eyes were ablaze behind the glasses and snowy white beard. "Yes?" His voice was just a quiet whisper.
McGonagall's eyes began to tear. "My dear, dear Albus" she said, kneeling on the ground with him and throwing her arms around his neck, "You're going to have to get another pearl."
Albus pocketed the ring silently, but put his arm around the woman he adored.
"I'm so…so sorry." Minerva's tears fell onto his shoulder. Albus disregarded them.
"Sorry? For what, pray?"
Minerva did not answer.
Albus took out a handkerchief. "Never you mind. It's alright. You haven't done anything wrong."
Minerva could not yet find words.
Dumbledore said nothing, just held Minerva in mutual silence. After a time, he whispered, "Are you going to ever tell me what holds you back? Look at us now; any passersby would assume we were made for each other."
His tone was light, but it proceeded in wrenching a sob from Minerva's bosom. "I still can't talk to you about it. I don't think I ever will." Minerva then proceeded to stand. "Don't misunderstand me; if there was a single man I could tell, you would be the first to know, let me say it now. But, as it is, I cannot confide in any, and that is that."
In the ensuing lapse of conversation, a knock came from the door.
"Can I come in? I'd be willin' ter go away for another ten seconds if ye be needin' of it…" Hagrid's muffled voice came through the door.
Albus sighed. "Come in, Hagrid."
Hagrid opened the door a trifle too quickly. A giant basket worthy of being possessed by its owner was in his hand.
"So…?" he half-asked Albus.
"Nothing doing, Hagrid." Albus' voice sounded as though he were cheerfully declaring to the world 'Tut-tut, it looks like rain!'; nevertheless, Hagrid caught the full weight of the comment. His very beard seemed to droop as he mumbled:
"Awwww…I was radur hopin' that fer once…"
But without further ado, they set about having their tea.
