A/N: It's been a busy week, but I got this next chapter ready. Thanks for your reviews on the last one. I completely understand those of you who felt it was little rushed, because I felt the same way. But I couldn't help it. The passion just exploded out of me, and Albus and Minerva for that matter. And then I figured, they deserved the happiness. As for the marriage thing, that's partly me having something specific in mind and also trying to stay somewhat canon. Of course, Elphinstone is off the table now. I couldn't bring myself to go through with Minerva marrying him and becoming a widow and all that. But I will deal with other parts of the canon, as perhaps you will see if you keep reading. :)
39. Out of Hiding
The summer holidays miraculously transformed from an empty dreaded couple of weeks into two months of suddenly highly appreciated privacy and nearly uninterrupted joy. Since most teachers chose to leave the school to take a much needed break, Albus and Minerva had all of Hogwarts Castle to themselves.
Aside from an army of house-elves, of course, but they adored Albus as much as anyone else and posed no threat to them or their secrets. As deputy headmaster, they took Albus to be their master as much as Armando and so they wouldn't breathe a word to anyone about anything they saw.
So Albus and Minerva made the most of their time alone. They sat on the top of the Astronomy Tower, admiring the view of the Scottish highlands that protected Hogwarts as much as the enchantments did. Fawkes flew in circles around them, pointing out things that only he could see and only Albus could understand.
They danced under the stars in the Great Hall. The magical ceiling showered them with shooting stars, but in Albus' arms Minerva had no wish to make.
And every now and then, when Minerva could convince Albus not to go easy on her, they duelled in the Entrance Hall for sport. At one of those occasions, Albus deflected one of Minerva's spells and it hit the Slytherin hourglass instead. Hundreds of emeralds rained down on them and rolled off into hidden corners of the castle. Minerva was sorely tempted to leave it like that, but Albus seemed to think that was poor sportsmanship.
At the end of every summer when the students returned, Albus and Minerva retreated to their respective offices. They still spent just as much time together, or as much as work would allow, only more discretely. Thanks to the connection between their fireplaces, it was easy to come and go without drawing attention to themselves. Occasionally, though, Minerva got annoyed with all the soot on her robes. Because most of the time, they preferred to use Albus' much larger rooms.
Often, they sat in his sitting room, reading together, arguing about intriguing or laughable articles in Transfiguration Today, discussing the potential of particular students or playing the occasional game of chess. Basically, they did what they had always done, only now Albus' hand would rest on Minerva's knee, she would lean her shoulder against his, or their feet would touch under the table. Small gestures that they felt ever more deeply as their love settled.
Eventually, one of them would decide that it was time to go to bed. Their nights weren't always filled with passion of a physical nature. Minerva was just as fond of sharing a bed with Albus simply so she could hold on to him and stop him from sneaking back out to work or brood over things. Whenever she wasn't with him, she would usually find him brooding. Learning how to use his affection for her to coax him out of it was a slow process. One she would eventually lose. But she had promised to try nonetheless.
This Saturday morning, Minerva was composing a letter to Robert, with whom she was corresponding regularly at the moment because he and his wife Debbie were expecting their first child. Meanwhile, Albus was engrossed in Muggle newspapers. Minerva wasn't entirely sure why he was reading those. He had once made a joke about enjoying crossword puzzles, but lately, he seemed a lot more interested in mentions of random Muggle disappearances that looked a lot less random when viewed through the lens of Albus' growing collection of such articles.
The arrival of an owl interrupted their domesticity. Minerva didn't even bother with it, though. The overwhelming majority of owls were looking for Albus. This one was no different. But in the corner of her eye Minerva did see that Albus' face was marked by a deep frown when he had accepted and read the letter.
"What is it?" she asked, looking up after all.
"The Mulciber trial was pushed up," Albus informed her.
"To when?"
"Within the hour."
Now Minerva mirrored the frown on Albus' face. "Shouldn't they have run that by you first?"
"Not if it's at the Minister's behest," he replied.
"Why would Leach get involved in Wizengamot business?" Minerva wondered.
"That I cannot say, but I better leave," Albus said, rising from his chair. When Minerva followed suit, he added, "Which does not mean that you need to leave as well."
Minerva hesitated. She hadn't stayed in his rooms much when he wasn't there with her. After all, she didn't live here. Not technically. "Are you sure you don't mind?"
Albus gave her a curious smile. "What's mine is yours," he said and sealed that proclamation with a kiss.
When he had left, Minerva's eyes went to Fawkes. The phoenix cocked his head. "He really shouldn't have said that," Minerva told him.
Once she had finished her letter, she rolled up her sleeves and did what she had been itching to do ever since she had first set foot in this room. She began to dust, collect and rearrange every single one of Albus' books she could find, reorganising the shelves in a way that looked less like the hoarding of a mad genius and more like the property of a uniquely brilliant mind.
It was very satisfying work, at least until Minerva stumbled over a pile of books she had remembered seeing Albus stuff under the bed. They contained such dark magic that Minerva had only heard rumours about it, if at all. In a knee-jerk reaction, she wanted to put them right back where she had found them, but the thought of sleeping on top of them made her sick to her stomach. So she stuffed them on a shelf in a corner, hiding them in a second row behind a couple of Defence Against the Dark Arts books as though they could serve as a protective barrier.
She was almost done when she heard Albus return to the office, but he clearly wasn't alone because there was a second voice with him – a very loud and angry voice that got increasingly louder and angrier. Surprised, Minerva froze. Fawkes also turned his head towards the door, ruffling his feathers. She knew she should have just waited for Albus' visitor to leave, but it felt strange to be trapped here, forced to listen to someone yell at Albus like that. Her patience for such behaviour, already limited to begin with, quickly ran out.
Minerva stepped through the portrait into Albus' office, which resulted in a rather unhappy look from Albus and a nonplussed expression from his visitor, who turned out to be Abraxas Malfoy.
"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" she asked as if she didn't care about either reaction to her sudden appearance.
"Who are you?" Malfoy asked bluntly.
"I'm your son's Transfiguration teacher," Minerva replied just as coolly.
That information seemed to spark something in his memory. "Ah, you're the one who gave him detention for being five minutes late to class. Then surely you can explain to Dumbledore here why it is unacceptable to make excuses for such tardiness."
Since Malfoy looked back at Albus, he answered before Minerva could – who still had no idea what this was all about. "I'm sure even you, Abraxas, must admit that there is a difference between your son missing a class, that he knew full well would take place at its usual time, and the government's witness failing to attend a hastily arranged hearing they weren't properly informed about."
"You can argue semantics all day, Dumbledore, but that doesn't give you the right to push back the hearing in the government's favour!" Malfoy shot back heatedly.
"On the contrary, assuring a fair trial for both sides is not only within my rights as Chief Warlock, but in fact explicitly expected of me. You are, of course, very welcome to look it up," Albus told him, his voice calm but hard and unyielding. "Also, you will find that I did not push the hearing at all. I merely reinstated the previously agreed on time and place that you – somehow – convinced the Minister of trying to change. When I explained the situation to him, he agreed, however, that such a course of action would not be in the interest of justice."
"Justice," Malfoy sneered. "How is it justice that you insist on hearing that so-called witness when you already have the testimony of a reputable and highly respected man such as myself?"
Minerva snorted, quickly catching on. "Of course, you're saying that Mulciber is innocent. He's your friend!"
Malfoy glared at her. "My personal association with the accused notwithstanding, I would expect that in any respectable court my word should matter more than that of a Squib."
"Why? It's their magic that's limited not their eyesight," Minerva pointed out. "So there's no reason why they shouldn't be allowed to tell the court what it is they saw."
"That is if you assume that they can actually understand what it is they believe they saw," Malfoy said dismissively.
It was clear by the thin grim line Albus' mouth was forming that he was losing both his patience and his interest in this conversation. "While you are entitled to your opinion, I can assure you, Abraxas, that as long as I am Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot the word of every witness will count the same regardless of their social standing and ancestry."
"I see," Malfoy snarled. "Well, Dumbledore, you and Leach better watch out what happens when you open the doors to our community to such people. What's next? Goblins and house-elves?"
"I don't see why not."
Malfoy snorted in disgust, but he seemed to accept that Albus wouldn't be intimidated, bribed or otherwise convinced to change his mind. His eyes went from Albus to Minerva.
"I hope you at least know my son's worth," he said commandingly.
"I do," Minerva nodded. "The same as any of my other students – if he learns some respect that is."
Baring his teeth, Malfoy decided against giving another retort and simply turned on his heel to leave.
Albus leaned back in his chair, heaving a sigh. "Minerva, is there a particular reason why you chose to reveal the nature of our relationship to Abraxas Malfoy of all people?"
"Oh, come on, Albus, I didn't reveal anything. It's not as if I stepped out here naked," Minerva defended herself. "And he didn't even know who I was anyway."
"It's safe to say that he does now."
"And you didn't want him to?"
"I don't think it's very desirable to have to deal with men like Malfoy, no," Albus replied wearily.
"But you have to deal with them, so I just wanted to help," Minerva said with a shrug. "If you don't want me to, don't hide me in your room."
Albus arched an eyebrow. "That is hardly an appropriate description."
"No? Then you weren't hiding those books I found under the bed either?" she asked while she stepped back through the portrait.
"You had a busy day, I see," Albus replied drily when he followed her and saw the changes she had made. "And no, I wasn't hiding those books. I had merely left them there for safekeeping."
"Safekeeping for whom?" Minerva asked.
"I took them from the Hogwarts library."
Minerva looked at him in shock. "You mean those books were accessible to students?"
"Yes, and I fear I was rather too late in removing them." Albus headed over to the shelf where Minerva had tried to hide them and ran a finger over their cracked spines. "Did you read them?"
"Of course not! My God, Albus, we're not talking about a light novel to discuss over a cup of afternoon tea."
"No, they certainly don't make for very nice reading," Albus said simply, leaving the books where they were now.
Which was definitely a better place for them than in the public library, even in the restricted section. Minerva couldn't argue with that. And perhaps she shouldn't have accused Albus of hiding them, or her, for that matter.
"I suppose I could have waited for you to come back before rearranging everything," she conceded.
Albus' lips curled up and he walked back towards her. "You can change whatever you like in here. The only possession I truly cherish is the one I'm afraid I can never fully have since she has a wonderfully strong mind of her own."
Minerva smiled, wondering how it was possible that she would willingly give herself to Albus to own if he asked. "Then you're not upset with me for what happened with Malfoy?"
"Oh my love, if it were up to me, you could take all these books and throw them right at Abraxas' head."
"Don't tempt me!" Minerva laughed.
Albus lifted his hands to her cheeks. "How could I when in fact you're the temptress who has stolen my heart?"
"You make it sound as if you didn't want me to take it," she protested.
"So did you when you said that I was hiding you," he pointed out.
Minerva sighed and leaned into his touch. "How about we say that you chose to give me your heart and I chose to stay right here with it?"
Albus chose not to answer other than with a warm and tender kiss to her lips that instantly erased all the Abraxas Malfoys from her mind.
Minerva had already witnessed a birth firsthand, but when it was her niece or nephew trying to find their way into this world, it was a different matter entirely.
Robert had sent an urgent owl that Debbie was in labour and Albus had told Minerva to go and spent as much time with her family as she needed while he covered her classes. So now she was sitting in Robert and Debbie's home above their shop in Diagon Alley, trying to calm down her brother. The midwife was in with Debbie and she had kicked Robert out of the bedroom because he had been perfectly useless to everyone involved.
"Why is this taking so long?" Robert asked, pacing back and forth like a cat. Minerva had never realised how annoying that was.
"Because your wife is trying to bring a new human life into this world," she told him.
"Oh, don't lecture me! It's not as if you know what you're talking about!" Robert shot back.
Before Minerva had even fully processed that comment, her brother's face crumpled and he stopped his pacing to sit with her and take her hand. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."
"No, you're right," Minerva said. Under the circumstances, she would give him a free pass. "I don't have any children, so I shouldn't try to give you advice."
Robert squeezed her hand. "We can share mine. We both know you'd be better in raising him or her."
"You will be a wonderful father," Minerva assured him. "After all, you learned from the best."
"Yeah, I suppose I did," he nodded. "I wonder what's keeping him and Mama?"
"He'll still be in church," Minerva said. "You know he can't just run out in the middle of the service."
"Not even for the birth of his first grandchild?" Robert wondered.
They shared a look. "No, not even for that," they agreed at the same time and laughed.
"Well, that's a no for naming my son after him then," Robert said.
Minerva laughed. "Good, I really don't think we need a Robert McGonagall the third. Two is more than enough."
"Should I be offended by that? It sounds like I should be offended."
"I'm just saying that while I love you both very much, you do tend to have a stubborn streak," Minerva clarified.
Robert roared with laughter. "Excuse me? Who are you to talk to me about being stubborn?"
"All right, perhaps it's more of a family trait."
"Only if Malcolm is adopted."
They both chortled until the unmistakable sound of a newborn's first cry filled the house. Robert shot to his feet, his eyes wide. "That's my son!" he said, dazed, and then louder while he burst through the door to the bedroom. "That's my son!"
The midwife had just wrapped the baby in fresh blankets and placed it in the waiting arms of the mother. "Actually, it's your daughter," she said.
Robert paused for a moment, then his face split into a grin. "Even better! The women in our family are all geniuses!"
He rushed towards Debbie's side while Minerva stayed behind to give them a moment. Also, she was fighting back tears. She had never been happier for her brother. She had never been happier in general. Of course, a small part of her wondered what it would have felt like if she and Albus could have had this. Speaking of geniuses – any child of theirs could have very well been a true prodigy. Then again, that would have been a bit too much to put on a child.
"Hey, auntie! What are you doing back there? Come over here and say hello to your niece!"
Her smile returned and Minerva gladly followed her brother's call. She perched on the edge of the bed, congratulated Debbie and leaned in to marvel at the baby. She had Debbie's eyes and Robert's nose.
The doorbell rang downstairs. "That must be Malcolm with Mama and Papa," Robert said, rising to go and let them in.
But when he returned to the room, he announced, "Look who I found."
To Minerva's complete surprise, it was Albus who stood in the doorway. "I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to say congratulations and to give you my best wishes for you and your child."
"That's so sweet of you!" Debbie said, nodding that it was okay for Albus to come in.
He walked up to stand behind Minerva, who was still amazed that he had chosen to come. So was Robert.
"So, are you still 'just a friend' of my sister's or are you uncle Albus now?" he asked, his eyes going back and forth between them.
Albus and Minerva exchanged a look. "Neither."
Robert looked confused but he laughed. "Okay, baby steps, I guess. Literally."
Minerva ignored him and turned back to Debbie. "So how are you feeling?"
Her sister-in-law gave a helpless laugh. "Like I gave birth to a baby dragon."
"She does look like a true spitfire. Not unlike her aunt," Albus commented, amused.
"Yes, since we can't name her after Papa, perhaps we should name her Minerva," said Robert.
"Oh Lord," Minerva groaned. "Please don't. That is no name for a little girl."
"Mama seemed to think differently."
"Mama was being moody and emotional when she named me."
Robert snorted. "Well, you turned out all right, didn't you?"
"And I happen to think that Minerva is a very beautiful name," Albus chimed in.
Minerva rolled her eyes at him. Sometimes he chose the oddest moments to say something ridiculously romantic.
"Why don't you all discuss this outside while I take care of Debbie here?" the midwife suggested.
No one dared to argue with her and so Robert took the baby from Debbie and the four of them stepped back out into the hallway. Robert began to walk up and down, gently rocking his daughter and talking to her quietly, while Albus and Minerva stood to the side and watched him.
"I didn't expect you to come," Minerva said softly.
"I just wanted to look in on you." Albus laced his fingers through hers. "See how it feels to be an aunt."
"Like someone gave me a job without checking to see if I have the necessary qualifications for it," she quipped, though it really wasn't that far off.
Albus chuckled. "If I'm not mistaken, you told me once that there is only one requirement, and I know that, like everyone in your family, you have that in spades. As you have proven every day now by loving me."
Minerva gave him a smile that was a little teasing but mostly genuine. "You say that as though it's a hard thing to do."
While Albus returned her smile, there was also a deeper-seated frown hidden underneath.
"What's wrong?" Minerva asked, concerned.
He shook his head. "This is not the place or the time."
"If it's troubling you, then yes, it is," Minerva insisted, tugging on his hand a little. "Or I'll have to take back what I just said about loving you not being hard."
There was a pause, then Albus brought his head closer to hers so they wouldn't be overheard. It was a needless precaution since Robert only had eyes and ears for his daughter. "The government witness in the Mulciber trial was found dead."
"What?" Minerva paled. "How?"
"They are calling it a hate crime, which will be nearly impossible to solve in the current anti-Squib climate."
"What's there left to solve? It's pretty clear who had a motive, isn't it?" Minerva pointed out. "Even more reason to lock up Mulciber."
Albus sighed. "The case was dismissed. The defence argued that there was insufficient evidence."
"How can anyone believe anything Mulciber says after this?"
"It wasn't him. He found a new very persuasive advocate for his cause."
"Malfoy again?" Minerva guessed.
Albus shook his head. "Abraxas was smart enough to step away from this as soon as the witness was found dead."
Minerva wasn't the least bit surprised. "How very self-serving of him. But who was this advocate then?"
"He calls himself Lord Voldemort."
"What?" Her brow furrowed. "There are no British wizards sitting in the House of Lords and no one stands to inherit that title either."
"That might very well be why he chose to adopt the title when he decided to shed the Muggle name he was actually born with," Albus replied.
Minerva's eyes widened. "You know him?"
Albus met her gaze and just looked at her for a long moment. "Do you recall a couple of years ago when I asked you to go to Borgin and Burkes to inquire about a former student of mine?"
Of course, she remembered. She also remembered what Albus had said about him being on a dark path. It had chilled her then and she wasn't even sure how it made her feel now. "Then you were right."
"Believe me, I wish I wasn't," Albus said grimly.
Minerva looked from him to her brother who was still crooning to her little niece, perfectly happy and oblivious. "We can't let her grow up in a world where a man like that can just act on his own twisted sense of justice and self-importance and get away with it."
"We won't," Albus promised her. "That little girl will always know the difference between right and wrong. She is a McGonagall after all."
"How do we make sure the rest of the world knows it, too?" Minerva worried, leaning against Albus.
"We might not be able to control how much time we have each been given or what some of us choose to do with that time, but our children, the ones who are meant to live long after we're gone, are very much in our hands," he said, pressing a kiss to their intertwined fingers.
He was talking about Hogwarts, of course, the one place that would never fall to the fear and ignorance that motivated men like Mulciber, Malfoy and this Voldemort to band together. Not unless they abandoned the school and stopped teaching the students to choose love over fear.
It was ridiculous how long Minerva had searched for that place in her life where she could make her stand, without realising that she had already found it.
And the man to stand with.