Chapter Nine: Love & War
Good for him. Bertie had finally done something genuine for his friends, something worthy without expecting anything to reward him. Except perhaps money, Albus pondered. They may have bribed him to say something. It hardly mattered, really. After all, it was all in their favor, his and Minerva's. What a pleasant surprise.
Of course Albus had not planned on reading Enchantment Weekly, but somehow Cora of all people talked him into it at breakfast. "You won't regret it," she had said. As ill-advised as it may have seemed on the outset to be looking at a publication that dealt with mostly libel and gossip, the Headmaster found himself glad that he took the word of his staff member. His faith in humanity shifted ever so slightly for the positive as he looked over the cover article.
His fingers clenched the edges of the magazine as he reread the supposed words of Berthold Rhytherton. The captions at the top read clearly:
A letter, not responded to by the Daily Prophet.
So the wording could have been better, but the point was made. Berthold had written the Prophet. It was no surprise that they would fail to publish such a thing, considering the fact that he more or less called them fallacious dolts—which of course was an apt title.
He smiled softly at the gesture that Berthold had put forth.
Dear Editor,
As part of the second party involved with this smut you've written of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, I am utterly appalled at the hellacious libel seen in your newspaper. Not only do you have your facts wrong, but your insinuations are astronomically absurd. There is no war between brothers, let alone Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, nor is there any reason to doubt Minerva's faithfulness to Albus. Never have I seen a more devoted couple, which is saying something, considering the fact that I am myself a newlywed.
Minerva McGonagall is one of the sweetest creatures on this Earth, and for you to flaunt lies of her should earn you a date with a curse. She would do nothing to harm anyone, let alone her fiancé. The fact that she has remained quiet throughout all of this muck you've published only shows how calm and reserved she is, because you can bet had it been me, I'd have blown you and your office to pieces.
You insinuate that Albus Dumbledore is making a bad decision by marrying Miss McGonagall on several fronts. Well I put it to you that he knew of all of her flaws before dating, let alone proposing to her. What did you do? Skim some of the most important work that has been on animagi and think that good? Their brilliant minds will find discoveries that you can only dream of. Do you suppose that her unresolved research is going to stop them from continuing? By tearing apart this couple on ungrounded fronts, you are in effect destroying the future we all could have. Congratulations.
I sincerely hope that you stop this story. You do no one any good by continuing, least of all yourself.
Respectfully,
Berthold Rhytherton
Albus stared at the word "respectfully" with a slight grin on his face. He had not had a grin for nearly forty-eight hours, but that ending to a letter that was anything but respectful made him genuinely happy. Perhaps Berthold was a good man to have in his friend arsenal. If nothing else, he seemed to have loyalty…and a keen sense of irony.
The man let out a gentle sigh. He had better write Berthold, let him know of the true events that had recently occurred. Bertie certainly knew that the Daily Prophet was lying. Setting him straight could not be wrong at all, not after a letter like that.
He stood up from his seat in the Great Hall, not bothering to look out at the students.
He had heard enough from them for the day to know all other news floating around the wizarding world. Not having read the Daily Prophet, he thought it a moot gesture when the hearsay seemed to say only that it was confirmed that Minerva had gone and that she was most likely at her home, though some seemed in favor of her running away with Aberforth.
Turning the corner out of the Great Hall, Albus couldn't help but allow a smile to cross his lips. It was funny, really, that anyone should think that she would go to Aberforth. Or rather, it was interesting that anyone would think that she wouldn't go to her parents. Of course that's where she went. Any person who knew Minerva would know that was the only destination she would go. They were everything to her. Shows what the press knows.
"Headmaster!"
Albus looked behind him to see whose call he heard. He was hardly surprised when he put facial recognition to voice recognition. The man waited patiently for the woman to arrive before nodding respectfully, "Cora. Read it. You were right." He took in her self-congratulatory expression. He pressed on, "I don't regret it one bit."
Cora smiled back softly with that hint of superiority in her eye, "I told you."
"Indeed you did," he bobbed his head. "Walk with me." The man began walking again in the direction of his own office, knowing that Cora was surely heading to Minerva's morning class. The woman walked alongside him without a complaint. "How was it yesterday?" he glanced over.
"Good," the woman asserted confidently. "There were a lot of questions being asked, of course, but it went well. How are you getting on?" she asked without missing a beat.
He shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it for multiple reasons. "Could be better. Could be worse."
It was funny that Cora wouldn't respond to that. Maybe she just had no words to combat it. Or maybe the woman simply had something else on her mind. She skipped a few sentences of what he thought would follow in the conversation, "If I were you, I would be a wreck. You're doing an amazing job of keeping your composure."
Albus shrugged again, "I am a master of such things." He knew he was being evasive but it was appropriate. He didn't want to and couldn't talk about it.
Cora stared at him and then stopped. Albus stopped as well, acknowledging that perhaps something was wrong. The woman frowned, "You don't seem upset at all, not anymore."
"My position demands that I function like a professional," he stated automatically. He had hidden behind this excuse before on multiple occasions. The one that seemed most pertinent, of course, was the last bout he had with Minerva. He let her go on those same grounds to save his credibility and his job. Ah, but he would not make that mistake again. Instead, he chose to gauge things and hide behind his seemingly professional manner until something could be done.
The flying instructor hissed back, "You're letting that poor girl suffer, you know that, don't you?"
Albus blinked and let out a sigh. He stared at the woman, allowing his stoic demeanor to melt. He felt everything soften. "I am giving her time," he nodded gently. "Do I miss her?" Albus swallowed, hardly seeing the reason for answering the rhetorical question, "Of course. How could I not? But she needs her space to decide what she wants. She would never forgive me if I coaxed her into coming back when she didn't want to."
Cora listened intently, her face softening ever so gently. Her voice was not harsh, "What if she doesn't come back? Then what?"
"She'll come back," Albus bobbed his head slowly. "Minerva will come back and teach."
"Will she come back to you?" she raised an eyebrow.
He had no answer for her just then. His response admitted it, "I'll let you know next week when she's back."
"I don't understand," Cora shook her head, "Why are you so certain that she'll return at all?"
He couldn't tell her that.
The man inhaled and pursed his lips to the side, "Call it a hunch."
The scuffling of students' feet seemed to fall upon their ears. He nodded at the woman and she nodded back. The conversation was finished. They walked side by side down the corridor in silence until they came to the point of separation. Cora made her way to Minerva's transfiguration classroom while he went in the direction of his office.
The man stopped short as he came to the bottom of the stairs and blinked. "Raspberry jam," he said half-heartedly.
It's the only thing Min would eat on toast.
"Are these all yours?" Min asked in awe as she stared at his personal library. It would have been impressive to her, even with what must be an extensive collection at home. An entire wall in one's quarters surely was impressive.
Albus smiled, more enchanted than anything else by her excitement. "Yes. Years of collecting, and that's what I've got to show."
The woman reached up and pulled out one of his anthologies. He paid little attention to which it was or where in it she flipped. What caught the man's eye was everything else: where and how she stood, the firelight as it flickered across her face, the smile on her lips, the unabashed way she seemed to occupy his quarters. She was lovely, but young; intelligent, but naïve; fearful, but brave. He knew deep down that he could not keep her. Perhaps that's what made this night so…well, poignant.
He wanted her Hogwarts robes off of her skin—if they weren't there, then perhaps his shame would go away. Perhaps they could be anything but what they were. They could be anyone. He could be a lowly Ministry worker and she could be a writer, an auror, anything but a student. It would be acceptable for them to be together, wouldn't it? No one would think twice about her entering his rooms after hours.
"You've worked with Archibald Mason?" she looked from the pages to him, wonderment in her eyes.
The man took a few steps towards the girl and looked over her shoulder to see what it was that she found. She smelled like lavender. He looked at the title: The Value ofAcromantula Venom. "I did for a short while," he nodded. "We didn't get on too well, though. He was never happy unless he had some sort of injury. And with the state of magic being what it is, no sooner would I apply some essence of dittany than he would go out in search of something to break his leg on, including Acromantula pincers."
Minerva looked up at him, no less impressed. "I see you made it out without a scratch."
"Yes," he bobbed his head, "but old Archie hasn't."
She frowned, "What do you mean?"
Albus shrugged, "Bogart. Scared him right off of a cliff."
A nod was all he received as she closed the book decisively and placed it back on the shelf. Of course she wouldn't want to talk about that sort of thing. He didn't either. Seemed that many of the people that he worked with had a habit of dying prematurely—either that or they lived for ever.
The woman's hand drifted over title after title in his library before pulling out another book. It was small, much smaller than nearly everything else. A smile came on her face as she flipped through The Wizard and the Hopping Pot. Without looking up, she whispered softly, "Never going to grow up, are you?"
"I'm plenty grown-up when I need to be. Same as you," he said without trying to make too fine a point on the truth.
Her eyes darted up to his. Her voice drifted to his ears, "Is that a hint, Professor?" she raised an eyebrow.
He inhaled slowly, catching a whiff of her lavender scent. He shook his head. This wasn't about sex; wasn't about anything at all, except spending time with one another. "No. But I was thinking," he whispered as he slid his arms around her waist, "that I might work with you on something academic after you've left. We would make a good team," he winked.
"Ah, so you're looking for an…academic partner?" the girl winked back.
The man gave a laugh. It was beyond him why she would be so good for him, but he did not want to ask questions. He was simply thankful to have her and her sense of humor. "Seriously," he chuckled. "We ought to work together. Maybe write a paper on becoming an animagus."
Minerva wrapped her arms around his neck playfully, a fire of sorts burning in her eye. Her voice was sweet, "Perhaps. How else will I earn enough fame and fortune to be invited to teach when you're promoted?"
A grin spread over his face. Her ambition was something to behold. "I would ask you simply based on your performance here." He paused before adding, "And the fact that you're an animagus. There aren't many of you, you know."
She nodded her head and placed the book face down on the shelf before returning her hand behind his neck. He watched her every move and was mesmerized, whether or not he wanted to be. She was graceful, even doing something as simple as putting a book back. Her beautiful green eyes stared into his blue ones. "No," she shook her head. "Not many of us at all. I suppose I should thank you for your lessons."
His response came with little thought, "I would do anything for you, Minerva. You know that, don't you?"
Other girls would have been swept off their feet by something like that. They would melt and let it be known. Minerva was not like that, though. This girl knew that she was too vulnerable, so she made an effort to fight it. "No you wouldn't," she shook her head. "If that were true, we would not be sneaking around like we are."
What could he say to that?
Albus moved his head up and down slowly. "It's for both our sakes." Of course she knew that. None of their arrangement would ever have worked if she wasn't able to understand such a thing. Naturally, he understood where her feeling of resentment came. There were days where he could see the pain in her eyes; especially when they were in class, even more so when boys attempted to flirt with her. She was not free and that was his doing.
His stomach dropped ever so slightly when he saw her smile fade. The girl nodded her head and whispered, "I know."
He was not being fair. Albus knew that he had far more to lose than she ever would, being in that relationship. She kept quiet because she loved him, because she was absolutely, totally and completely devoted to him. She said nothing because the second that she did would be tantamount to ruin, to separation. Why is it that Albus said nothing? It was out of love, certainly, but some days he wondered if it was more out of love for himself than the woman. If he really loved her, then wouldn't he stop her from suffering? These are the terrible thoughts that plagued his mind as he ran a thumb along the side of her cheek and her arms pulled his head closer to hers.
Minerva's eyes fluttered open. She wiped the saliva off of the side of her face as she sat up in the armchair. Why did she insist on sleeping like that? It just made all of her hurt to sleep on her side in that chair. She wasn't small enough to fit in the seat anymore, not in her human form, anyhow. The pain down her neck was awful.
She sighed.
The fire was nearly out. What did that make it? Three, four? Merlin, that means that she was laying there for five hours. It was stupid, absolutely stupid for her to be waiting there for Albus. She knew he wouldn't be coming, but she had to wait, didn't she? She had to hope that he would come a day early. It wasn't that she was needy, she wasn't falling to pieces, she just wanted some reassurance that all was going well on his end.
The Daily Prophet featured the normal amount of insinuations, although it appears that this time they had gone after Aberforth. Poor man had to shut down his pub and yell at the world. She didn't want to bring him into it, but there was no choice, was there? She felt dirty for doing that to him.
Minerva bit her lip as she stared at the slowly burning embers. Her mind drifted to the not long distant past.
"Did you expect him to be there?" she asked him pensively, the heat of her voice mingling with the soft fumes from the hot bath and candlelight. She was not accusing him so much as she was thinking over his expectations versus her own.
His warm breath caressed the back of her ear as she waited for his response, his fingers tightening gently around her wrists. "No," he said gently, "I didn't expect him to be there."
She wasn't sure if she believed him or not. It seemed far too coincidental to have been an accident and only an accident. The woman reminded herself, however, that it was Berthold that chose everything, including the date and venue; Albus could not have had a hand in any of it, not really. "You didn't seem surprised."
Albus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Aberforth lives in Hogsmeade. It isn't strange to see him outside of the pub."
"You let me think that it was acceptable to speak with him."
"It is," he whispered and then kissed her softly somewhere in the back of her head. "I have no qualms with you two speaking."
Minerva had a sneaky suspicion that had this encounter taken place three, four months ago, the story would have been different. Albus would have kept Aberforth from her. He would have done anything to keep that story away from her. It was smart of the man to tell her when he did. Ah, but now, now it was perfectly acceptable for them to be friendly, since she knew everything there was to know. "And what if he should tell me something that you don't wish me to hear?"
He was cool in his response, "He has nothing to tell you that I have not already told you."
"No? Nothing?" she raised an eyebrow. It was not that she did not believe him. It was more that she knew him, knew how easily lying had sometimes come to him. Moreover, he knew that if she believed him, there would be no more questions asked. Sometimes she wondered who was doing the playing.
The man leaned forward by her ear and whispered softly, "No." He slid his fingers through hers and squeezed. His soft manner drowned away the uneasiness that was befalling her. He had nothing but good intentions. He, too, wanted to see the end of the madness. "I have told you everything there is to know."
A smile crept on her lips. She turned ever so slightly to the side and allowed her lips to touch his. There was something both exciting and terrifying about conspiring the way that they were. Minerva did not know how it would turn out, but they had considered everything they could possibly consider. At least before tonight.
When their lips parted she looked at him carefully. Her voice made her sound much surer of things than she really was. "This changes things," she whispered matter-of-factly.
"Yes," he nodded, knowing that she was referring to Aberforth.
She shifted her body forward, taking note of the predictable way the water shifted within the tub. The woman faced the man, her ankles resting somewhere to the side of his bum. She swallowed, then spoke seriously, "What will they say, do you think?"
Albus let out a heavy sigh. "Everything they can, I'd wager," the man nodded. He would know, wouldn't he? Her experience certainly had shown that they would stop at nothing. The man merely confirmed her suspicion. He frowned, "I'm afraid to say that they'll probably attack you, Min."
Her next question was really futile, for she knew the answer already. Still, she felt it necessary to ask it, to confirm what she already knew. She blinked, aware of the way that the steam and smoke seemed to be affecting her eyes—which of course they did on purpose. "Why not you?"
"Because it would do them no good to attack me," he admitted softly. It was true, wasn't it? The great Albus Dumbledore was not to be toyed with, not now. He was still at the peak of his fame—not that Minerva ever supposed it would die out. Albus was brilliant. Always had been, always would be. The man went on calmly, almost casually, "They'll make some story about how you're playing me against Aberforth and Berthold. About how you're using me. About how you're using everyone. They'll finish off by telling everyone to 'save the date' for it will surely be the ruin of the wizarding world."
The woman couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "Sounds a bit dramatic, don't you think?"
He shrugged, "The Daily Prophet loves to be dramatic. They'll find a way to scandalize the both of us. Maybe others," he bobbed his head. His eyes shifted down to the clean water, his fingertips sliding from her toes up to her knee. She watched it, a hint of a grin playing at her lips. She wasn't sure if she was being seduced or tickled. Perhaps he was simply in his own world. His eyes flicked up to meet hers as a thought occurred to the man, "That was Orin's uncle?"
"Yes," she moved her head up and down. There was no doubt about it, none at all. "Recognized him from some old articles in the Daily Prophet."
Albus chuckled at that, for some reason, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "Looked him up in the library did you?"
She didn't find it funny. She had prepared herself, as she was keen to do when going to war with The Daily Prophet. "Yes," she said seriously despite his grin. "Even if I hadn't," she challenged him, certain that she was the only one of the two of them who could have noticed such a detail of their night, "Orin is the spitting image of him. I would have known."
He challenged her back, as he was keen to do when getting to the bottom of things. "Did you notice him at all while we were there?" he asked seriously.
Minerva's head fell back against the metal of the tub as she sucked in the warm air. Her mind ran through the evening's events. She would have taken real notice if he was out in the open. She was prepared for this evening on all fronts. It appears that Archimedes Jenkins was prepared to go unseen, at least until a moment of his choosing.
The woman let out a sigh when she realized she had no clue as to what he heard or saw. She lifted her head back up to look at her lover, "No. He probably overheard the whole of our conversation," she admitted sadly.
His head bobbed in agreement, "It's likely. But we expected someone to make an appearance."
He was right, of course. That was the plan. They left the castle for a reason. He smiled reassuringly in her direction, "I don't think anything too private was said."
Her mouth twitched at that. She leaned forward and spoke slowly, "Funny, I could have sworn that I heard you tell me about how you thought of me on the front, how you wanted to write me but didn't—"
"That was before people came," he said with certainty, "The only one in our vicinity was the waitress."
Minerva thought back to the validity of that statement. He was wrong, she realized. Albus Dumbledore was really quite wrong. Her stomach sunk. "There was a man who was sleeping not too far from us."
A look of panic dawned on the man's face. "Was that him?"
She swallowed and shook her head, "Couldn't tell. I never noticed him look up." In all truth, Minerva did not pay much attention to the man in the corner, despite what they anticipated. She was too wrapped up in the information that her lover was feeding her. He was wooing her, after all.
"Let's hope that it wasn't him, then," Albus nodded his head softly with a reassuring smile. He did not seem completely convinced with himself, though. He let out a sigh, "It would be shame for that sort of thing to get out. Soldier on the front pining away for a girl."
Interesting way to put it; putting it that way almost made it sound acceptable. She raised an eyebrow, "A student."
Albus shook his head, "Not by then."
"Doesn't matter," she shook her head in the same manner. She knew them better than that. Minerva had little faith in the press after the first time their names appeared next to one another. That's why this whole thing came about, after all. She looked at him seriously, "They can make their own context. And will. I assume the article will be out tomorrow?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Sunday paper?" he nodded. "Yes, I would think so."
She let out an antsy sigh. She was nervous about it, of course. Minerva did not lie. She did not trick. She did not run. Somehow all of what rested before them made her uncomfortable, or at least fearful. She shifted herself along the tub back into his arms, this time facing the man. She slid her arms around his neck while his slid around her back comfortably. She was thankful for his blue eyes right then. She whispered meekly, "How does this affect the plan?"
A short pause fell upon the room as a dripping hand slid along the nape of her neck and into her hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the man's touch and the sensation it produced. He made her feel calm, even when her heart was racing and she was upset. His voice drifted into her ears suggestively, "Perhaps you go to Aberforth."
Her eyes flicked open. No, no she did not want to do that at all. "Aberforth?" she looked at him fearfully.
"He will give you a reason to stay gone," he spoke calmly and then added, "At least until I find you."
Minerva did not understand, not at all. This suggestion made her panic. She felt her back stiffen as her hand shifted from his neck to his shoulders as she gripped them. The woman hissed at him, "What use will Aberforth be? They'll just overhear whatever it is that he has to say."
"They won't find you that quickly," he shook his head.
Her shoulders slowly released the tension. She swallowed. This was true. She would be quick, quicker than they could ever be. The only way that they would be quicker would be if there was some help from staff. Merlin knows the staff had some of the best people in the world. Albus was right; no chance of them finding her. Still, she did not see the point. "So why go?"
Albus's reason made her feel better. It was nice to see him have his brother in mind. "If the reporters come his way, he will tell them the truth," he nodded, "They'll think that the spat is real."
She liked that. She liked that a lot. Her lips drifted upward before she leaned in to peck him softly on the lips. "And spare Aberforth?"
"As best we can," he nodded.
She leaned forward and pecked him again.
His eyes stared into hers after the kiss, a smile playing at his own lips. Their conversation wasn't over just yet, though. The hand that had previously been resting in her hair drifted back down to the low of her back. She felt herself being stabilized against him. He whispered cautiously, "Just be sure to be seen in Edinburgh."
"I will," she bobbed her head in agreement. This was key, she knew. They had to know where to go, didn't they? Surely they'll have people to tattle, even if the isn't big enough news to have people skulking around. There would be no question as to the state she would appear to be in when they came upon her presence. Minerva told him precisely what he wanted to hear, "They'll be certain that I'm dying from a broken heart. I'm sure there's something I can feed myself to make me tear up."
He bit his lip to hide his amusement at the thought, "Yes. Lots of things. Just carry an onion with you."
She laughed even as she said the words, "I think they'll see through that."
"Certainly," he chuckled back. Minerva liked how his whole body shook as he laughed. The water shifted from side to side and then became calm again. The man spoke frankly after the laughter had died, "But yes, there are things we will give you to make you cry on cue. There will not be any doubt that we are having a rough time."
She nodded. Of course they had many choices for her to make it look like she had been crying, even things to make her cry. Somehow she didn't think that it would be difficult for she expected the worst out of The Daily Prophet. That was much less her worry about the whole adventure than the to-do involved with it. She frowned ever-so-slightly, knowing precisely what her lover would respond with. She cleared her throat, "My father won't like them crawling around the estate."
Albus did not disappoint. They had already been over this. He nodded his head sadly, "It's a necessary evil."
She bobbed her head gently. Speaking of the estate and necessary evils, there was the ultimate evil, the ultimate dupe that needed to be confirmed. Minerva let out a sigh, "When shall I expect you to make your grand entrance?"
He leaned his head back in thought and then snapped it forward. He was certain in his response. "Saturday, I think. They'll post it the following Sunday."
"And it will be all over?" she asked with hope.
"So far as they know, yes. Yes, they will," he whispered with a smile which grew upon noticing hers. He added softly, "Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall will no longer be a couple. All will be over."
She nodded, but second-guessed herself. Minerva pursed her lips. "This seems far too contrived."
His hands shifted upwards along her back, pulling her entire body closer to him. He knew well what was racing through her mind. "Forgive me, my dear, but it was your plan." He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "And a damn good one, at that. You've no need to second-guess yourself," he stopped and then added the most important thing he could tell her, "Or be afraid."
Acknowledging it made it better. His hot breath against her ear and his strong hands along her back made the fear go away completely. He was wonderful for her. Her response amused her more than it amused him. Her eyebrows rose as a form of challenge, "You'll be the one who is afraid."
"Oh?" he smiled.
She winked. "You've never seen me angry. I'll be sure and let you experience that before the wedding."
The man chuckled. It wasn't funny, but it certainly was on some level. Maybe it was the fact that it wasn't real, not really. He winked back, up for the chase, "I hope you do your worst."
"I shall," Minerva nodded. "I shall," she whispered for effect into his ear.
He responded appropriately, of course, as his lips shifted onto her pale neck, his fingers trailed down her back. She gladly moved her hips closer to his, nay, against them. She got the tiniest thrill out of the feeling of her chest pressing against his as the impending fight was forgotten. Her head lolled off to the side as one last question came to her mind.
"Wednesday?" she whispered.
"Aye," he breathed before kissing with a hot, wanting mouth.
There was nothing else to be said as they made love.
Minerva blinked and inhaled deeply as the events of those last forty-eight hours passed through her mind. They were doing well, weren't they? That much was clear.
Please Review. Much, much thought was put into the layout of the last five chapters (ish) to make this one what it is. As a writer, I would love some input.