"It isn't very pleasant to find out you're just a man like everyone else. And not a very nice one, at that."
The next day they woke early but stayed in bed late.
After a breakfast of tea, toast, and kippers, they Apparated to just outside of town and had a walk in the crisp late-morning air. When they got back, they talked about the next steps in Minerva's Animagus training but didn't do any practical exercises. Minerva wanted to get some revising done, so she and Albus sat at the table in the sitting room, she with her textbooks and notes, he with several journals he had been wanting to catch up on.
After more than three hours, Minerva threw down her quill in exasperation.
"How could I have been so stupid as to undertake nine bloody N.E.W.T.s?"
When Albus just grinned at her, she added, "And why didn't you stop me? You're my Head of House; my sanity is your responsibility!"
"As I recall, I told you that I only did eight and that you might find yourself overtaxed with nine. You assured me in no uncertain terms that I was mistaken," he said, still smiling infuriatingly at her.
"Well, I wouldn't be overtaxed if certain professors could be a little clearer in their lectures."
"And who is the unfortunate subject of your wrath today? I certainly hope it isn't me."
"No. You at least manage to be comprehensible most of the time. It's Slughorn. He's got me completely confused on the differences between brewing methods for healing potions and palliatives; it's not just strength, clearly there's magical intent involved, but he hasn't said at what point intent becomes the decisive element."
Albus goaded her. "Perhaps you just didn't take clear enough notes."
She fixed him with a withering stare, and he closed his journal, saying, "Come. Show me where you're having trouble. I may not be a Potions master, but I did manage an 'Outstanding' on my Potions N.E.W.T."
They spent the next forty-five minutes going over her notes until she felt better about her grasp of the difficult topic. "Thank you," she said as she closed her textbook. "That was actually helpful."
"I'm not sure how I feel about the qualifier, but I'm glad to be of service. Now how about a spot of lunch? Talking about desiccated Glumbumble apocrine glands makes me curiously hungry."
As they ate, Minerva asked Albus about his N.E.W.T.s.
"Which subjects did you do?"
"Transfiguration, Charms, Defence, Potions, History of Magic, Herbology, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy."
"Not Astronomy?"
"No. I was never any good at stargazing," he said. "Navel-gazing, perhaps."
She smiled at his jest. "And did you pass all of them? If it's not too personal a question."
"I did."
"Let me guess: you achieved 'Outstandings' in every subject."
"No. I'm afraid I only managed an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Arithmancy."
"Hmpf. I'll be happy if I just manage to pass Transfiguration and Charms."
He chuckled a little at that, and she asked, "What's so funny?"
"I have wee confession."
She raised an eyebrow, and he continued: "Professor Merrythought and I have placed a small wager on the outcome of your N.E.W.T.s."
She almost choked on her Butterbeer. "You what?"
"We placed a wager. We've been doing it for years, in fact. We select the most talented student in the year and bet on how many 'Outstandings' he or she will achieve. It's somewhat analogous to Muggle thoroughbred horseracing, which was a hobby, apparently, of Galatea's mother's," he told her. "She was a Muggle."
"That is completely and utterly barmy. Not to mention totally inappropriate."
"Yes, that's what makes it so pleasurable," he said happily.
She looked at him, speechless.
"So?" she asked.
"So ... what?"
"So, how many 'Outstandings' did you wager I'd get?"
"Well, Galatea—this is just between us, you understand ..."
"Yes, yes, of course. Tell me."
"Professor Merrythought guessed seven 'Outstandings' and two 'Exceeds Expectations'."
"And you?"
"I placed my Galleons on nine 'Outstandings,' of course."
"I think I'm going to be ill," she said, although she was smiling.
"Try not to think about it."
"Why on earth did you tell me?"
"I thought it might inspire you. You seem to have a true competitive spirit."
"You are, in fact, quite mad," she said, shaking her head.
"Yes, I am. But you love me anyway, don't you, my sweet?"
"Yes," she said, sighing. "I suppose I do." She leant across the table to kiss him lightly on the lips. "Just don't up and leave me when I lose you your Galleons, though."
He raised his right hand in oath. "You have my word of honour as a gentleman and a madman."
"Which subjects did Professor Merrythought think I'd muff up?"
"An 'Exceeds Expectations' hardly constitutes 'muffing up', as you so charmingly put it. And I don't think I should tell you; I wouldn't want you to lose your confidence needlessly."
She took out her wand and brandished it at him. "Tell me, or I'll hex you, Albus Dumbledore, in a very uncomfortable spot."
"That would be contrary to your own interests, I believe."
The next moment found him covered in bright-yellow feathers and sporting a large beak where his mouth had been.
After a minute, she changed him back, and he said amiably, "Well, I suppose you can rule out Transfiguration. You're clearly an outstanding student there."
"I suppose I'd better get back to revising. I wouldn't want to be the cause of your landing in debtors' prison."
"As much as I appreciate your concern for my fiscal well-being, I think you've done enough revising for one day. And in all seriousness, my dear, I don't think you need worry about your N.E.W.T.s. too much. You will acquit yourself well, I have no doubt, and it doesn't matter much if you don't garner top marks in every subject, my little wager notwithstanding. Given your current ambitions, the only ones that really pertain are Transfiguration, Defence, and Charms, and I daresay you'll achieve your 'Outstanding' in all three even if you never look at another note."
He was afraid he had made her nervous and wanted to reassure her now. "You are, without question, the most brilliant student it has ever been my good fortune to teach," he said.
"I do love you, Albus. Barmy or not."
"And I love you."
She got up, walked around the table to him, and sat down on his lap, putting her arms around his neck. She kissed him several times and whispered, "Take me to bed."
"In the middle of the afternoon?" he asked in mock surprise.
"Mmm, hmm," she said, kissing him again.
"Well, if you insist ..."
~oOo~
When Minerva opened her eyes and saw the tall figure standing in the doorway, she had to blink to convince herself it was real. She made no sound but began to push on Albus's shoulders, struggling to sit up. Albus lifted his head, about to ask her what the matter was, when he heard a snort from behind him.
He whipped around and saw the man standing in the doorway shake his head, then disappear down the hallway.
"Albus ...?" Minerva whispered, her eyes wide and her face the colour of new parchment.
"Shh. It's all right, my love. It's my brother."
"Your—"
"Just wait here, I'll be back in a minute," he said, rising and putting on his over-robe, not bothering with an under-robe or undergarments. When he had gone, she got up, gathered her clothes, and dressed quickly. She ran a comb through her hair, then Scourgified both herself and the bedclothes before making the bed without magic to give her trembling hands something to do.
When Albus got downstairs, the other man was in the small kitchen putting away some supplies he had bought on the way to the cottage.
"Aberforth—"
"She one of your students?" Aberforth Dumbledore asked without turning to face Albus.
"I don't think that's any of your concern."
"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But this house is half mine. If you're doing something illegal here, I'd say that's my concern. So, is she?"
When Albus didn't answer, Aberforth shook his head again. "How old is she?" he asked.
"Aberforth—"
"How old?"
"Eighteen," Albus said quietly.
"Well, at least she's legal—I'll give you that, genius. Pretty, too. Did you wait, or you been having her since she first grew a set of tits?"
"Christ, Aberforth ..."
"Oh, sorry. Forgot a fine gentleman like you doesn't talk about things like that. Herr Professor can bring his doxy to my house and fuck her in my bed, but it's uncouth for me to mention her tits. Which looked very nice, by the way."
"I'm warning you, Abe, stop," said Albus, pulling his wand from his robe pocket.
Aberforth stood his ground. "You going to hex me, Albus? Maybe curse me? Go on, do it, then."
The brothers stood glaring at one another, then Albus slowly lowered his wand and his eyes.
"What in Merlin's name were you thinking?" asked Aberforth.
"I don't know ... I don't know," Albus muttered, almost to himself.
"What's happened to that great brain of yours? Or has it finally taken second place to a less grand portion of your anatomy? Did you ever once stop to think of what would happen to her if you got caught? By someone other than your black-sheep brother, I mean."
"I know," replied Albus softly.
"Then you're a bastard. It's all very well for you; sure, you might lose your position at the school, but a great and famous man like you won't have any trouble finding another job, I warrant. After the initial slap on the wrist, it'll be all winks and pats on the back for you. Meanwhile, she's tossed out of school with no prospects and a reputation says she's a whore."
"Don't ever call her that."
"You won't need me to do it. That's what the papers and everyone else will say, and you know it."
"I never intended to harm her."
"You never do, Albus. But somehow, all the people around you manage to get hurt anyway. Your exalted intentions notwithstanding."
"I will not have this conversation with you." Albus turned to go.
"No, it isn't very pleasant to find out you're just a man like everyone else. And not a very nice one, at that," Aberforth said after him.
Albus paused for a moment, his back to his brother, then walked out.
When he got back upstairs, Minerva asked, "What happened?"
"The same thing that always happens whenever Aberforth and I meet." Albus rubbed his forehead. "We argued."
"Was he terribly angry?"
"With me, not with you."
"I'm so sorry, Albus."
"No, there's no reason for you to be sorry. This was my idea. It never occurred to me that anyone would show up here. The place is warded against everyone except Aberforth and me. It was just rotten luck that he chose today to make one of his rare visits. I am the one who is sorry, Minerva. I should have checked with him before making plans."
There was a sharp knock at the bedroom door.
"Yes?" called Albus.
"Just wanted to get a few things," came Aberforth's voice through the door. "Didn't want to barge in again. Let me know when I can get in there."
Albus glanced around the room. "It's all right. Come in."
When the door opened, Minerva rose from where she had been seated on the edge of the bed. Aberforth entered and gave Minerva a terse nod before crossing to the old wardrobe, opening it, and rifling through a box of papers sitting on a shelf. He located what he was apparently looking for, pulling a sheaf of parchment from the box with a puff of dust.
"Garden needs de-gnoming. Bathilda owled me they're coming over the fence. Asked me to see to it. Forgot the spells," he said, holding up the papers. "Guess I could have had you do it," he muttered. "I'll just take care of it and leave the rest for another time. Leave you two be."
"You don't need to go," said Albus. "We can leave."
"No need," Aberforth said and stalked out.
Albus turned to Minerva, whose cheeks were mottled with pink. "Abe can be a bit brusque. It means nothing. It's just his way."
"I can't imagine this was a very pleasant surprise for him, though."
"No. Why don't you go have a wash-up and I'll smooth things over with him if I can. Then we can decide what to do about dinner, all right?"
She nodded and went to get her things for the bath.
Albus found Aberforth in the sitting room making some notes on a bit of dirty parchment. "I'm sorry," Albus said as he approached his younger brother. "About using the house without telling you and about pulling my wand earlier."
Aberforth ignored the apology. "I'm just going to do the gnomes so they don't bother Bathilda anymore. You can do the rest. Or not. I'm making a list."
Albus nodded. "I'll take care of anything else."
"Your girl looked embarrassed," said Aberforth. "Sorry about that."
"It's an embarrassing situation. Look, it's getting late in the day. We can go back to Hogwarts, there's no need for you to leave."
"I may not be as great at Apparition as you, but I think I can manage to get back to Manchester without Splinching."
"I simply meant that you might be tired. In any event, we were going to have some dinner shortly, if you'd like to join us."
"Always the gentleman, aren't you Albus? Somehow, I don't think your girl would appreciate your inviting me."
"Not if you're going to be so surly. I had hoped we might be able to be civilised."
"You know me better than that." Aberforth's smile was unpleasant. "I'll be in the garden."
When Minerva had finished in the bathroom, she returned to the bedroom to dry and comb her hair while Albus went to use the bath. Dressed and feeling presentable, she took a few deep breaths and went downstairs.
Aberforth was still in the garden, so she took up her notebook and sat down at the table to revise. A few minutes later, Aberforth came back in. Minerva stood, saying, "Mr Dumbledore?" She approached him and held out her hand. "I'm Minerva McGonagall."
Aberforth took it cautiously and said, "Aberforth Dumbledore." He gave her hand a rough shake, then dropped it as if it were hot.
She summoned her courage and said, "I'm sorry about earlier. It must have been an unpleasant surprise."
He couldn't look at her. "'S all right. Not your fault."
"I'm also sorry if it caused an argument between you and Albus."
"Gah! That's nothing new. Albus and I don't see eye to eye on much, any road."
"That's a shame." She didn't know what else to say, and she was beginning to regret coming down.
He surprised her by asking, "How long you been with him?"
"Um ... well, we've known each other for several years, but we've only been seeing one another ... socially"—she could think of no other word—"for a few months."
A crooked smile crossed his lips. "You're still in school."
She felt the heat rise to her face. This conversation was a mistake. "Until June."
"You're in love with him?" Aberforth asked, shocking her further.
"I ... that's quite a personal question, Mr Dumbledore," she said, trying to recover some of her dignity.
"Right. You don't need to tell me. But I've got a bit of advice for you, anyway." He looked her directly in the face for the first time since they'd met. "Watch yourself, girl. Don't get in too deep with my brother."
She began to get angry. "I hardly think—"
"You may think he loves you ... he may tell you he does—hell, he probably has himself convinced he does—but he'll hurt you in the end. He'll use you for a time, then when it suits him, he'll drop you like so much ballast. He'll tell you it's all for the best, and he'll make you believe it. He cares about his grand philosophies but not about people."
She was stunned by the man's malice. It was her first encounter with such viciousness, and she had no response yet. Finally, she managed a weak defence of her lover: "That's not true. He isn't like that."
"I've known him a lot longer than you, missy. I know him better than he knows himself. I'm just trying to save you some grief, but don't listen to me. You'll find out."
Decades later, she would realise that Aberforth had meant exactly what he had said: he was trying to help her in his gruff, unpleasant way. She would eventually come to appreciate his unschooled directness, but at the moment, she could only stand there and loathe this man who looked so much like Albus while exuding so much anger and resentment.
"Thank you for your concern," she said, ice in her tone. "But I think I can take care of myself."
"No doubt, Miss Minerva McGonagall, no doubt," Aberforth replied, the unpleasant smile still curling his lips. "I'll just take my leave, then. Tell Albus I left the list on the table." He Summoned his heavy wool coat and cap, tipping the latter at her as he went out the door.
She stood, shaking with anger, not knowing what to do. Albus had hinted that his relationship with his brother was not good, but she had not expected the man to speak as he had, and especially not about her relationship with Albus.
When Albus came downstairs, he found Minerva on the settee, gazing into the fire she had conjured.
"Where's Aberforth?" he asked, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Gone."
He came around to sit next to her. "Are you all right, my love?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she answered, putting a hand over his.
"Did you two speak?"
"Yes, briefly. I introduced myself; I thought I should. I'm sorry if that was wrong."
"Not at all, my dear. It must have been a bit awkward, though, under the circumstances."
"Awkward, yes. Anyway, he left. He said to tell you there's a list on the table."
"Minerva, did he say anything to upset you?"
"Not really, no. He was just ... brusque, as you said."
He recognised that she was lying, but he decided not to press the matter.
"Are you hungry, my sweet? We could go out again, or we could just make use of what's here," he said.
"Let's stay here, then, if that's all right with you," she said, nuzzling him.
"Certainly." He paused, then lifted her chin so she was looking at his face. "I love you, Minerva."
"I know. I love you too, Albus," she answered, kissing him gently. "I do love you so."