Dumbledore was sitting in his office, drinking hot chocolate, when there was a quick knock on the door and it immediately opened, without even a pause for him to invite his visitor in.

"Evening, Albus," exclaimed Slughorn, bustling loudly into the room. He waved the bottle clutched in his hand, "How about a drink."

"I have one, Horace," replied Dumbledore, raising his cup. "But don't let me stop you."

Smiling broadly, Slughorn took a seat, summoned a glass and poured himself a large measure.

"So," he began, "What's this I hear about you being courted by Edgar Marchbanks and the Aurors?"

"I don't know," said Dumbledore calmly, "What have you heard?"

"They seem to think you have the power to defeat Grindelwald," Slughorn chuckled, emptying and refilling his glass.

Dumbledore remained silent.

"I've always admired you, Dumbledore," Slughorn said suddenly, raising his glass to the other man "I wouldn't be surprised if you end up Minister of Magic one day."

Dumbledore smiled slightly, "I think I'm a little old for you to be collecting me, Horace," he said dryly.

Slughorn gave a good-natured sounding laugh and again refilled his glass.

"Maybe," he said, "But no harm in having a friend. And you certainly look like you could do with one, honestly, tucked away in your office alone on such a delightful evening."

Dumbledore's expression changed.

"I used to play chess in the evenings," he said quietly.

"And we all know who with."

Dumbledore said nothing.

"She was your student, Albus," said Slughorn suddenly. "That way madness lies."

Albus nodded slowly. "She was a friend too," he said. "That's what I miss, Horace, her friendship. And I miss her as a student too - her thirst for learning..."

"Hmm," Slughorn said, "I won't deny that she was a gifted student, really very talented. But I never found her that friendly, bit standoffish in fact. Came to one of my supper parties once, and them declined all further invites."

Dumbledore smiled to himself, remembering Minerva describing that party over their chess match the following day.

"I don't think your clubs were quite her thing, Horace," said Dumbledore gently, "A bit too close to politics for her liking. And besides, your quarters are in the dungeons and she had a certain residual dislike of Slytherins after her experiences with her family and their acquaintances."

"Well she certainly seems to be getting over that." Slughorn commented.

Dumbledore looked at him, startled.

"Her and young Tom Riddle were getting on very well in the Hog's Head."

"Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore sharply, "When?"

"A few times, Hogsmeade weekends. Why?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "It's just a little surprising, that's all."

Dumbledore stood in the pub watching her. She was laughing with Tom. They were taking turns casting spells in what he was sure was some kind of competition. Her eyes danced as she leaned across the bar raising her eyebrows as she spoke, and he felt sure she was issuing a challenge to the boy in front of her.

He stepped back outside, still unseen. He turned and headed back to the school. Halfway there he stopped and turned back towards the pub.

A few more minutes in that direction and he turned again.

Just a few steps this time and he turned again.

This was getting ridiculous, he told himself, standing still to think. He had to make a decision - pub or school? To speak to her, or not to speak to her?

Finally his mind was made up. He headed for the pub.

Once there he waited outside until he saw Tom leave. He wanted to speak with her alone.

He watched Tom head down the hill, and then he opened the door of the pub and stepped inside. He stood just inside the door for a moment, watching her work. She must have sensed his presence because she looked up suddenly. She met his eyes and he smiled gently.

"Hello, Minerva."

"Hello, Professor. Can I get you a drink?"

"Well, I think a butterbeer would be just the thing. And you should have one too."

She smiled at him softly as she poured.

"How are you, Minerva?" he asked gently, looking intently into her eyes.

"I'm okay," she told him, "Better after I got your parcel. Thank you very much for that."

"It was my pleasure."

"And how are you, Professor?"

"Quite well, my dear, quite well."

There was a pause between them. Minerva bit her lip.

"How is Hagrid?"

"He's okay. He's being well-looked after and managing to obtain some training on magical creatures."

"Good. I'm sorry about – when I left…"

"I know. You were just trying to protect your friend. Although I admit to feeling a little guilty that poor Headmaster Dippet took the brunt of your spell."

"He told me why," said Minerva softly. "About you being destined to be involved with Grindelwald's defeat."

Dumbledore shook his head, "He had no right to tell you that. I do not want to discuss Grindelwald with you, Minerva."

"You were friends…"

"A long time ago. We can all make mistakes in our choice of friends," Dumbledore hesitated. "I hear you've been spending a lot of time with Tom Riddle."

Minerva nodded, "Tom's okay," she said, "Despite being a Slytherin."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, attempting a conciliatory tone, "But there would be no harm in exploring other options, would there?"

"Like you?" Minerva demanded, "I understood you were too busy to spend time with a humble barmaid."

"Well, no – not me, I am very busy at present."

"So what? A period of self-imposed isolation?"

"I'm not saying that, Minerva."

"No, you're just advising me to break off contact with my only friend. And for what reason precisely?"

"I am unsure of Mr Riddle."

"Unsure, right."

"Minerva."

"I have work to do, Professor."

She turned abruptly and headed down to the cellar. Once there she exhausted a fit of temper on some poor, undeserving, wooden crates.