Chapter Four: Intimations
It was a wonderful start to a Sunday. Minerva awoke with a sleeping Albus next to her, curled into a ball and looking at peace in his slumber. Her lips spread into a gentle smile as she watched him inhale and exhale evenly. It was funny how she enjoyed these moments. He did nothing but sleep, but for whatever reason, Minerva felt overwhelmed with this deep affection for the man. Maybe it was the gentleness in him.
The woman took in a deep breath before running her hand along his back in an effort to coax him awake—they did, after all, need to make an appearance in the Great Hall. He shook his head quickly, groaning in the negative at the thought of rising.
She rolled her eyes. "Albus, it's time to wake up," she said gently.
"Uh-uh," he groaned into the pillow, turning over to the other side, away from the woman.
Minerva inhaled deeply and let it out quickly. It was like pulling teeth to get the man out of bed when he didn't want or need to rise. "I'm going to breakfast, Albus," she taunted, taking her time with the word "breakfast".
No response.
With a shrug, she rolled out of bed, thinking that she might lead by example. His reaction was to turn and face her, open his eyes for a second, and then close them again. What a ridiculous man. "We've got to make an appearance, Albus."
"But it's so comfy here," he breathed. "And the view is nice."
She looked down at her exposed skin, feeling both flattered and annoyed with the man. "Well your view is going away," she raised an eyebrow. "You may as well get out of bed and join the real world."
"Or," his bleary blue eyes flickered open, "you could spend the morning in ecstasy and tell the world to piss off."
This approach of his was nothing new. He was like a child. Twenty years between them and she was the adult in their relationship. All he wanted to do was play. "As much as I'd like to do that," she nodded her head gently, "I am an adult and not allowed the luxury of lying in bed all day. And neither are you. Up." The bed covers moved to the foot of the bed without another word from the woman.
She turned and went to the bureau where she promptly chose her clothes for the day and slipped them on. Minerva listened carefully for movement from the man and was pleasantly surprised to hear creaking on the bed followed by footsteps on the floor. Well done, Albus. Now she wouldn't have to exercise any of her other tactics.
"There's an owl at your window," he said, sounding remarkably alert for a man who only just crawled out of bed.
Minerva spun around half dressed, to find that there was indeed an owl at her window. "I wonder who that could be," she looked at Albus, then at the glass. It was common for her to receive mail, but usually it waited until the morning post; never had she received a letter at Hogwarts in this fashion. Panic struck her system as she strode determinedly towards the tawny owl at her window.
Could it be her parents? Had something happened? Was someone ill? Strange things always happened to her father when he was abroad. Had he been injured? Or was it a friend? Experiments went wrong often enough.
She opened the window, realizing that it wasn't a letter at all on the owl's foot. He was clenching a newspaper. Her stomach dropped—somehow she already knew what it was. Albus was behind her with something for the owl to nibble. Minerva looked gratefully at the man. "It's a newspaper," she stated slowly.
They exchanged a look of fear before he told her to open it.
She did not have a subscription to the Daily Prophet. Someone must have sent her the copy. There was not much guessing to be had as to whom. In giant letters, the headline of the day read: A PERFECT PAIR. Below that was a picture of the two of them dancing at the ball. Minerva pursed her lips angrily as her eyes skimmed the author of the piece: Maximillian Woodfork. She was not familiar with the name.
"Just what I wanted to wake up to," Albus breathed behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Minerva shook her head disapprovingly as she began reading:
Albus Dumbledore is arguably the most important wizard of the century, daring to defy the limits of accomplishment, making ground-breaking studies in transfiguration, potions and charms—not to mention his victory in the most important duel of the century with Gellert Grindewald. It should also be noted that he currently is Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after maintaining a professorship in transfiguration.
Minerva McGonagall was hired over a year ago to take his position as transfiguration professor. McGonagall has made strides in the field of transfiguration since her days at Hogwarts, becoming an accomplished animagus in her seventh year and publishing the details of the various experiments involved. Earning early recognition, she worked for a range of research teams within the last eight years, receiving high honors for services to magical exploration. As such, it is no surprise that she should be named Dumbledore's successor—or is it?
Dumbledore and McGonagall have always had a curious relationship with one another. While at school, McGonagall spent many evenings with her transfiguration professor in search of educational enlightenment. Gwenella Paige, a fellow Gryffindor and classmate of McGonagall states, "She came back [to the room] after hours constantly, often giddy and flushed."
The woman's knees gave out. She leaned against the window, holding herself up with her free hand. Minerva looked at Albus with an open mouth and wide eyes. Her mouth had gone dry. "Merlin," she shook her head, not wanting to read the rest of it. She looked back down at the paper with complete and utter fear racing through her system:
Had Dumbledore not shown himself to be an upright citizen of the wizarding community, one might misconstrue the situation as being more than just harmless research. Clearly, their experimentation into long hours of the night led to the projection of McGonagall's career.
It is curious, however, to find one Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore—
For more, see Page 4.
Minerva looked at Albus, who nodded after reading the final word. She turned quickly to page four.
dancing together in such close proximity at the Ministry's 312th Annual Ball.
Each claims to have gone in a single capacity and indeed all of the facts point towards this being true. Both had various interludes with other ministry members and researchers, but the evening certainly ended with the two of them together. They were seen apparating from the grounds of Hensley Manor to Hogwarts, but not before McGonagall claimed to Paige, "Albus and I have been seeing each other for a year now."
A year beforehand, it should be noted, they met at that same event. At the time, Dumbledore was celebrating his promotion to Headmaster and McGonagall, coincidentally, was celebrating her newest publication, an expansion on Dumbledore's Regeneration Theory.
Their reconnection was, to be sure, fated—perhaps even planned.
After nine years supposedly apart, they now inhabit Hogwarts together, teaching the best and brightest, carrying on the tradition of Hogwarts. Congratulations.
Minerva blinked and then flipped the page over, looking for more information. When she knew for sure that there was none, she let the thing fall to the floor. The woman stared at the man beside her who looked remarkably calm.
She was outwardly calm as well, though the insides of her wanted to blast Gwenella into a flake of ash. A harsh breath was taken before she whispered to Albus, "What do we do?"
He cleared his throat and opened his arms. She went to them, entwining his torso in her thin limbs. Minerva could feel his heart beating his chest—not hear, feel. Thump. Thump. Thump. She buried her face in his chest, feeling emotion wash over her. The woman couldn't help but begin to shake as she fought back the pain that was the death of the life she knew. No one had died, but it would never be the same again.
"Well, we can either make a statement or we can choose not to. I'm afraid they both will cause quite a stir. I'd wager that the school is already in a frenzy."
She backed her head away from his chest to look into his eyes and his sad, sad face. Minerva knew her face was wet. She also knew that he was right—about the frenzy part, anyhow. God, how could she face all of those students that surely thought the worst? As far as the world was concerned, nothing ever happened when she was a student. There was no proof. Gwenella didn't know—she thought, but she didn't know. There was no proof.
And now, thanks to her, they all knew that she was dating Albus. They could not know that she was engaged, but she had in fact been quoted correctly; one year of dating. And somehow this article, this joke made their relationship out to be something despicable, something dirty and viral. It somehow was a disease. And not just one that affected them, no, it affected the students, it affected Hogwarts itself! If the leaders in a school were infected, the rest of the students would be. That's what the paper was saying.
Minerva felt her throat swell up and her mouth involuntarily open as a sob erupted from her throat. She did not bother to cover her mouth with her hand. She did not even bother to wipe away the tears that were falling heavily and quickly along her face. Her eyes would be red. Her voice would be hoarse. Her body would be sore. But she turned from the man and fell on the bed, grabbing at pillows to stifle her cries.
He did not bother to follow her. He fell to the floor and sat against the wall, looking white as a ghost and almost just as dead.
Damn it damn it damn it! What had just happened? Their whole history was laid out for the wizarding world to see, to judge, to believe. It was true, but not like that. It was libel, that's what it was.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Minerva shook her head in the pillow, not wanting to believe it. Had it started already? She rolled over, daring herself to get in her breath, wiping away the tears. She could pull herself together. She could, if she really tried. Minerva looked up at the gray ceiling, forcing her eyes to focus on it.
Knock. Knock. Knock. "Minerva?"
It was Thurston.
She sat up and looked at Albus, who was standing next to the bed by this point. He nodded his head, "Better get that."
The woman took in three very deep breaths before walking to the door and opening it quickly. Thurston was holding a Daily Prophet in his hand, but when he saw the red on Minerva's face, he knew that he had nothing to tell her. She motioned for the man to come in, who seemed genuinely surprised to see Albus there, not completely appropriately dressed. Minerva looked down at herself, registering her own lack of propriety. Oh well. What did it matter? The world knew.
She shut the door behind him.
He looked from one person to the next before finally uttering, "So it's true, then?"
Albus stepped forward, "We are together, yes. I wouldn't go so far as to say that everything that was—or wasn't—said was true. Woodfork does an excellent job of not saying very much, and implying everything else," he nodded knowingly. The Headmaster sighed, then made a half-hearted attempt at smiling, "It was only a matter of time."
Thurston, who was between the two of them, looked from one to the other, slowly nodding his head. "I have to admit, I feel a bit betrayed."
Minerva blinked through her already raw eyes, feeling a very deep sense of anger swelling up inside of her, "You feel betrayed?"
The Headmaster cleared his throat, "We've only just seen it. She's not over the initial shock."
Her jaw dropped. What in the bloody hell gave him the right to critique her like that? Of course she wasn't over the initial shock, but neither was he. "Excuse me?" she raised an eyebrow. "This is not something you handle every day, Albus Dumbledore. Don't act like it's nothing."
He took in a deep breath and approached the woman, putting either arm on her shoulder. He was calm. Remarkably calm. She hated that in him, sometimes. Minerva certainly had a larger visible emotional range than he. How could he just stand there? She knew his heart was beating a-mile-a-minute, but there he stood, strong and unwavering. All Minerva wanted was the opportunity to blow something up.
"Minerva," he practically whispered it was so reassuring, "I beg of you, please don't make this into a row, not today. You're new to this sort of attention." His blue eyes penetrated hers of green, but there was nothing insincere in this connection. He was begging her. As if she'd do something brash. She considered for a second: yes, given the opportunity, she would take Gwenella Paige and transfigure her into something terrible. Maybe a fly and let her attempt to stay alive for any given amount of time.
She blinked gently to herself. Perhaps Albus was right: he should handle it in the immediate future. "Sorry, Love" she breathed with embarrassment, "Thurston," she looked beside her, "I'm sorry for not telling you yesterday. We weren't going to tell anyone." And they didn't. Damn Gwen. There would be hell to pay someday.
"I see why," Thurston nodded understandingly, "now that I see what happens."
Minerva bobbed her head slowly. She did not feel calm, but it had come back to her face, raw as it was. "Is it absolute madness in the Great Hall?" she asked, her voice very unhopeful.
Thurston let out a heavy sigh and shrugged, his head falling to the side. Yes. Yes, it certainly was. "Absolute madness. The students are beside themselves with excitement at the idea of a scandal."
"Not surprising," Albus nodded. "Thurston, I'd like to have an emergency staff meeting at twelve. We uh," he glanced at Minerva, "Minerva and I need to communicate the exact situation to them. I'm afraid that they are likely to have theories of their own, many of them. I'd like them all to be informed. This is just the beginning."
The Deputy nodded his head, "I'll go and make the announcement now." And he turned around to leave, opening and closing the door on his own. Minerva hardly even noticed he had left—she was too busy seething. Only her anger had changed directions, namely at the man standing in front of her.
Her mouth twitched.
Albus certainly saw the expression on her face, for he shook his head and spoke before she had any sort of chance: "They have to know the circumstances of our courtship and our engagement. We can't hide anything anymore, Minerva. You don't know what it's like. They'll find professors when they're off the grounds and ask questions, even ask for interviews. The staff must know."
Her eyebrow rose. This had nothing to do with the staff. This had everything to do with them. In any case, he had no right to assume that she would want him to divulge any information about their relationship when he had sworn her to secrecy. They had agreed to keep their affairs private. She spoke very slowly, in a much lower register than she tended to use, "You've no right to assume that I would want the staff to know."
"It's in the papers, Minerva," he shook his head, as if that was the end of it, as if the papers were Merlin himself.
Her head shifted from side to side leisurely. She kept her eyes on his. "What does that matter? No one knows the truth except us and you're just going to…to…" she shook her head looking for the right word, "spew it out?"
The man put out his hand, as if to say 'stop', though no words came out. She waited patiently for a response. He was calm in his reply, but behind his voice, she could hear a deep frustration: "We have nothing to hide. We fell in love a year ago and here we are. I put you on staff because you deserved it and because you would be a valuable asset to Hogwarts. Yes, you were close to me while you were at school, but nothing ever happened. As the paper says, I am an upstanding member of the wizarding community and would never do anything as foolhardy as that."
She took in a deep breath. That was the truth that they had agreed upon months ago. But there seemed something sinister, suddenly, in lying so blatantly to the world—even if it was a necessary lie. There was no reason to tell them anything at all. "They can't bully us, Albus, into allowing them into our lives."
"They've already entered."
This much was true. There would be no argument occurring if it was false. She was defeated. "Why can't we let it alone?" she asked quietly.
He took in a breath, then opened his arms again for the woman. She fell into them, as if she was being pushed. Indeed she felt that way. They were pushing her. Even Albus was pushing her. But Albus, at least, knew what he was doing. He had, after all, been in the headlines numerous times and it couldn't have always been about his successes.
His arms wrapped around her and he spoke reassuringly to her, "The public cannot say no to scandal. And since we did not have the foresight to keep it from entering the papers in the first place, we must suffer the consequences. They will attack you and me and Hogwarts until we do tell them whatever it is they want to know. Better to let it out now than fight it for months."
"You expected this to happen," she stated, her voice dead and empty.
"Yes," he sighed. "But let's be positive about it: we had an entire year to ourselves."
She nodded gently. Yes, be positive. Perhaps this would be an opportunity for her to be free from the guilt she had from keeping a secret. She never enjoyed keeping secrets-and this was one that Albus was asking her to divulge. He was releasing her. Yes, bless the man for allowing her to talk openly with others about her relationship. Even if it was at the loss of privacy in the present, it would be freedom in the future. They could carry on, once this had all passed, out in the open. "And now we can spend more time with one another on the grounds," she added softly.
"Indeed," he slid his hand along her back tenderly, "Thank you, Love."
Minerva pulled back from his chest and looked into his eyes, "For what?"
He cleared his throat and inhaled deeply, "For seeing reason, I suppose. We can expect a rough month ahead of us." His left hand traced her neck and up to her cheek, still red from the crying. A sad smile fell upon his face. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."
"I don't need protecting," she shook her head. He meant it as a means of reassuring her, but that was not what she needed. She loved him, desired him, wanted him for ever and ever, but she did not need protection. Minerva was her own person. Even in a couple, she was her own. She could function without any sort of barriers between her and the world. "Albus, you are a wonderful, brilliant, thoughtful man and I love you dearly for it," she paused. "But that's all I want from you. Love."
For the first time since the owl came, the man laughed softly. She raised an eyebrow to his grin. His blue eyes danced, "Do people really talk like that, outside of novels?"
"I do believe I just did," she smiled shrewdly. She chose not to think about the deep breech in her life anymore—not until the staff meeting, anyhow. Minerva would go merrily along with Albus onto a different path. They could not stay the same couple if they couldn't find the happy moments so early.
Indeed, she saw a very dark month ahead of her. She smiled to kill the fear, "Yes. Yes, I suppose people do. Don't you?"
"Perhaps." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
Her hands slid against his ears and into his hair. She savored the feel of his coarse auburn strands between her fingertips and the soft skin of his ear on her thumb. His eyes closed in happiness at the touch. Her lips curved upward, glad to see him break for a second from his position of strength. He felt it just as much as she did, the fear.
"You're right," he offered the words to the air, his eyes failing to open. He was pensive. "You don't need my protection. But I'll try anyhow. I think, sometimes, about what we were when you were a student and it occurs to me that I sacrificed you for my career, for social stability. I hurt you for the sake of my vanity. Minerva," he opened his eyes which looked terribly troubled, "I will love you for ever."
"I know," she whispered.
The lump in her throat returned for reasons she could not quite explain.
R&R please. It would make my next two weeks so much better.