Ch. 11 Reconciliation

Minerva stood in front of the stone gargoyle, not moving. She must look odd, she knew, simply staring at the wall, but she didn't particularly care what students would think if they saw her here. She was, however, slightly ashamed of herself for giving in to such cowardice. The ugly stone creature in front of her eyed her curiously.

Finally, she said the password and stepped slowly onto the revolving staircase. She stood on just one step, allowing it to bring her to the top. In other, more pressing situations she'd dashed up the stairs as they moved, but she was in no rush today.

When she reached the door, she wondered what she would do if Dumbledore wasn't there. Would it even be physically possible for her to go through all of this again? She raised a hand and knocked, staring at the door with a strange calmness that, she sensed, would abandon her when the door opened – if it did.

She didn't have long to wait. The door opened of its own accord, as always, and she took one step into the doorway and stopped, unsure if she ought to go further.

It was ironic, really. She'd gone to such lengths to ensure that her friendship with Albus would hold, would remain stable. She'd confronted him, talked to him, done everything she could to make sure that they would remain close when Connor's arrival had threatened the ease that their friendship possessed. And yet, she'd made this chasm herself. Now she wasn't even able to enter the room.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, half-moon spectacles perched on his long nose, magnificent silver hair and beard gleaming, and looking older than she had ever seen. Her heart clenched with the thought that it was she who had caused it.

But then a small, crooked, almost amused smile cracked the ancient face, and the laugh lines around his eyes seemed more prominent. 'You may come in, Minerva.'

'Of course,' she muttered, crossing the threshold. While Albus' smile had eased the tension somewhat, there was no denying that the uncomfortable feeling remained. She made no move to take the seat across his desk, as he had indicated, but instead clasped her hands together and stared at a point just to the side of his head. 'I can come back later, if you are busy, Headmaster,' she said, hating her formality.

'Not at all, Professor,' he replied gravely. 'What can I do for you?' Minerva swallowed.

'May I talk to you for a moment?' she asked, almost tentatively, which shook her, because she was not a timid person in the least. Dumbledore regarded her thoughtfully for a moment.

'Of course,' he replied, with a smile, and the knot in Minerva's stomach lessened the slightest bit. 'Would you care to take this into my sitting room?' he offered, seeming to sense where her hesitation came from. She nodded, and he led the way to a door she knew to connect his private rooms to his office. She was uncomfortably aware of the portraits watching her curiously.

When they had settled in his sitting room and she had shaken her head at his offer of tea, he watched her closely, waiting for her to begin. She swallowed, hating herself for what she had said. As the memory resurfaced, a lump rose in her throat, and she knew was dead.

'Albus –,' Minerva finally managed, and to her own horror, her voice cracked on the syllable and she bowed her head. Her eyes shone as they filled with tears, glistening like moonlight on a calm lake. The uncomfortable feeling in her throat did not go away.

'Dear Minerva,' Albus said softly, and he took her gently into her arms for the first time.

Minerva broke down. He tucked her head into his shoulder and held her shaking frame. 'Oh, Minerva,' he whispered. She tried to stop the tears filling her eyes, but her own words – Why must you always interfere? – came back to her.

Minerva lifted her head. 'Albus, please forgive me,' she pleaded, tears trickling down her cheeks. 'I am so, so sorry! I can't believe – I don't know why I –.' Albus shushed her softly and tightened his arms around her.

'I forgive you, Minerva,' he told her, knowing that was what she needed to hear. 'Of course I forgive you.' She released a shaking breath and nodded. He pulled a handkerchief from his robes and, instead of handing it to her, gently wiped her face. 'Do stop crying,' he comforted. 'You are overreacting, my dear,' he told her with a smile.

Minerva raised her head. He loosened his arms in case she wanted to move away, but she made no move to do so. 'No, really, Albus! I was utterly uncouth. You didn't deserve that, and especially not from me.' Dumbledore said nothing, and the two simply sat there in silence for a time, Minerva wrapped in Dumbledore's arms.

The grandfather clock on the wall chimed five o'clock, and Minerva sighed. She'd never been so comfortable in her life. She wondered if it was wrong to enjoy this, to like the feel of his arms around her. Suddenly, Albus pulled away. Minerva looked at him. He was smiling.

'Make it up to me, Minerva,' he said. She swallowed; she wanted nothing more.

'How?' she asked, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly cold, missing the warmth that had come from the man sitting next to her.

'Come to dinner with me,' he said. 'We'll talk, and perhaps then you will truly tell me what is bothering you, and allow me to help you. We will have plenty of undisturbed time; just what we need.'

Minerva opened her mouth to decline, for she really had no time, and then closed it again without speaking. She had just remembered her brother's words. Start living your life for you. She suddenly understood what he'd been trying to say.

'That sounds like a fine idea,' Minerva said instead, smiling despite herself. 'When?' Dumbledore smiled, looking genuinely happy at her acceptance.

'Leave everything to me, Minerva,' he told her. 'Just tell me: Muggle or wizard restaurant?' Minerva debated. If she chose Muggle, she'd have to dress like one, and not talk about magic. However, if she chose wizarding, it was highly likely they would see someone they knew, and undisturbed time was what she needed.

So she shrugged, unsure. Albus surveyed her for a moment, and then nodded as if he'd understood something. He stood, and so did she. 'Never mind,' he said. 'I'll work it out. Shall we go to dinner?' Minerva nodded, and turned to go, wiping the last of the traitor tears off her cheeks. But Albus did not move, and when she turned around to face him, he extended his hand. She took it, and he pulled her towards him in a tight embrace. Her own wrapped loosely around his neck and shoulders. She lowered her head; the right side of her face pressed her against her own arm, the left side buried in his shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment, then, with nothing more a smile, went down to dinner.

Professor Flitwick was making his way to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore had asked to see him after dinner, doubtlessly to discuss some issue or other. Flitwick had had little objection, and so here he was.

'Good evening, Professor!' called one of his young students, while her friend waved. Flitwick beamed and waved back. He truly loved teaching, and knew deep down that this was his calling. He'd heard before from others that students often thought his energy and patience seemed endless, but in truth it came to him with very little effort. Sometimes he felt like someone had cast wingardium leviosa on his mood, he felt so light.

Flitwick continued to Albus' office, thinking of the changes that been wrought on Hogwarts. Sometimes, it felt like his life force was tied to the school, and he knew that some of the other, more senior teachers felt the same. Minerva, for one, certainly did. She'd been here for ages, been one of the youngest teachers the castle had seen. Now, of course, she was simply one the most solidly present, dependable people in the castle. He knew that Minerva deeply loved her subject, that she could admit freely. What was harder for her to confess was how much she cared for her students. It had been Flitwick's personal experience that a good glass of strong scotch was particularly effective in loosening her tongue.

'Filius?' Flitwick turned and smiled brightly at Pomona, who'd just rounded the corner. She was another one who truly enjoyed teaching, though her affection for her students was much more noticeable.

'Good evening, Pomona,' Filius squeaked. 'Where have you been?' he asked, noting her rosy cheeks.

'I've just come from the Owlery,' Pomona explained. 'I've almost run out of fertilizer, and my third years are going to need some within the next week or so.'

'Dragon dung?' Flitwick squeaked, trying to hide a smile. It was common knowledge that Pomona's preferred fertilizer was also the smelliest.

'I see you smirking, Filius! As a matter of fact, yes, I did just place an order for dragon dung. I'll have you know it is the best fertilizer there is, as any decent Herbologist knows,' Pomona sniffed, but the smile on her face betrayed her. 'Where are you going?'

'Dumbledore's,' Filius replied cheerfully. 'Then it's off to my office for the detention I gave Pickering and Stammers the other day.'

'Those two again?' Pomona asked. She sighed. 'I'll have to do something about them, that's their fourth detention this month.' Filius smiled at her.

'Don't worry, Pomona,' he reassured her. 'I rarely get trouble from the Hufflepuffs. These two seem to be trying for the Weasley twin's vacant position.' Pomona laughed but shook her head.

'I honestly don't know how Minerva handles it,' she said wonderingly. 'The Weasleys, Harry Potter and his crew, the Creeveys…and remember Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew? They nearly drove me mad, and they weren't even in my House!' Filius laughed outright until they arrived at the stone gargoyle.

'Well, I shall see you later, then, Filius,' Pomona said. 'Have a nice night.' Filius returned the sentiment before giving the password and mounting the spiral staircase.

The office, at least from the outside of the door where Flitwick was standing, seemed unusually silent. He knew that the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses were duty bound to help the current head of the school, and they were rarely silent. Unless, of course, they were pretending to be asleep. Flitwick knocked.

'Good evening, Filius,' came Dumbledore's cheerful voice. Yesterday, the Headmaster had looked almost ill, but tonight…well, tonight he looked happier than he had in a long time. Filius wondered if that had something to do with this meeting.

Once Filius was seated in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, his legs dangling a foot off the ground, Dumbledore explained.

'I have a favour to ask of you, Filius,' Dumbledore began. 'I will be absent from the school next Friday, and I wonder if you could act as head for the few hours that I will be gone.' Filius did not understand, but he was quick to agree.

'Of course, Albus,' he squeaked in reply. 'I thought, though, that it is normally the deputy's responsibility? What about Minerva?'

'Ah,' said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, 'you are right, of course, in that Minerva is usually the one to take my place. However, Professor McGonagall will also be absent from the school at that time.' Filius beamed. While Dumbledore was sometimes vague in his answers, his twinkling, mischievous eyes told Filius his suspicions were correct. Minerva and Albus were going out to dinner.

'We shouldn't be too long, I think,' Dumbledore continued, further confirming Filius' thoughts. 'I would not normally approach you, but simply in case of an emergency…' Albus trailed off, looking thoughtful. 'If it is too much trouble, Filius, I am sure I can –.'

'Oh, no, that's perfectly fine, Albus,' Flitwick hastened to reassure the headmaster. 'Of course, go out for an evening. Have a good time with – well, I mean, have a good time.' Dumbledore chuckled.

'May I offer you a nightcap, Filius?' Albus said, shuffling the papers littering his desk. Filius could really have used a fruity strawberry syrup with soda and ice just then, as he felt particularly buoyant, but he did have those detentions. He shook his head.

'I have a detention tonight,' he squeaked by way of explanation. 'Good night, Albus.'

'Good night, Filius,' Albus returned with a warm smile. Flitwick jumped down from the chair and left the office.

Flitwick was almost to his own office when he heard voices. Not wishing to interrupt, he turned to go another way, when he heard Minerva's name in the conversation – a conversation she was definitely not part of.

'How, Connor?' came Trudy's surprisingly angry voice. 'Tell me how any of that made sense to you, because it sure as hell makes no sense to me.'

'Tru, you're making a big deal of nothing!' said Professor McKinley. 'You saw Minerva, she seemed fine with it.'

'You are such a man!' snapped Trudy. 'Of course she's not fine with it! Women don't like being told that someone fancies their brother – someone much younger than them and the cousin of the person she used to date!'

Filius frowned. No wonder Minerva had been so uptight lately. Trudy was interested in Bran, and from what Filius was hearing, Connor had told Minerva himself. He shook his head. The man really was thick sometimes.

'Why are you so touchy? What's it to Minerva if you like her brother?' Connor snapped, adding maliciously, 'The age difference can't bother her that much, for Merlin's sake, she's shagged Dumbledore, and he's ancient, isn't he?'

Filius sucked in his breath and would have hexed Connor himself if Trudy hadn't beaten him to it. A loud slap echoed down the corridor as Trudy's hand made contact with her cousin's cheek. Then the sound of angry footsteps reached his ears, thankfully going in the opposite direction. Without further ado, Filius turned and scurried away.