Chapter Twelve: Of Monsters and Beautiful Creatures

Albus looked casually over the Great Hall in the direction of Gryffindor table, pumpkin juice in hand.

There was a strange energy about the school this particular morning. It could well have to do with the massive amounts of sleddable, throwable, wet snow that surrounded the castle and the sad call of Monday. He wouldn't be surprised if his class counts dwindled today—he couldn't blame them for wanting to have some fun.

-But for those that were resigned to their studies and attending class, there was a palatable gloom. Or perhaps that was simply the school these days: there was not very much for which to be happy.

Albus couldn't be sure, for he had not been happier since he was himself a student: a permanent grin plastered itself on his face.

Not five minutes passed by before he relived various moments of the previous evening for which he felt no shame whatsoever. He reveled in the memory of Minerva's eyes trailing down from his lips to his chest, to his erection—and her mouth which took the path. Or the final groan that she made against her will when she climaxed, still surprising and new to her. Not to mention the fact that he rather liked the way the woman was gaining confidence, was willing to tease and challenge him: he did not plan on telling her, but he found her means of gloating very attractive.

"I thought you were going to do all of the work."

"It's not my fault you're insistent. I felt sporting, so I gave you a turn."

Merlin, did she. In every way, she gave him a turn and he was loving it. He was loving being in love; imagine.

He felt his cheeks burn pink.

He gave a small grin in the direction of the lovely, long-braided, pale Minerva who nodded inconspicuously back. She was alone this morning at the long table with her own goblet of pumpkin juice. That wasn't abnormal at all, but usually she chose to blend in with her fellow seventh years and sit next to them.

Today there was no Gwen or Jez. As a passing thought he wondered if she had ever talked to them about abusing their dormitory room, but quickly lost interest. It was easier for him to feign ignorance than to approach the topic. It would only anger Minerva and frankly, if the castle allowed it, then why shouldn't he?

The man let out a sigh.

His eyes dropped down to the letter hiding beneath his plate: just as he had hoped, he received a response from MacLaven who was undeniably interested in Albus's services. More than simply being an informant, he seemed to see his value. It wasn't surprising—on paper Albus always looked impressive. He possessed magical skill, intelligence and the reflexes to make good on both of those qualities.

His eyes flicked back up to Minerva.

He wished he could just walk over there and tell her now: MacLaven would see Albus in Hogsmeade in a week's time, where they would discuss options for Albus to take a "winter holiday" to Godric's Hollow. She would look up at him with that bittersweet expression and he would be all the more certain that he was finally on the right path. All things would come together.

"Albus?" a cool, deep voice slid over his ears and down his chest to his stomach where it sat uncomfortably.

"Armando," Albus turned and gave a cordial nod. "What can I do for you?"

No discernible expression could be found on his face as he glanced down at the paper beneath Albus's plate, "How was New York?"

"Educational," he stated simply.

"Excellent," the headmaster nodded, "I wonder if you would be able to meet me in my office after your morning classes to discuss it? I'm very anxious to learn about your experiences in America."

Albus blinked, his stare cool, "I am sure you are. My morning classes end at eleven. I'll be in your office shortly after that."

Armando Dippet allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to appear on his face, "Good." And then he walked towards the entrance to the Great Hall, robes swishing behind him. His head, however, did not look in that direction. Rather, he let his feet carry him away as he looked on not only at Gryffindor table, but Minerva.

She stared him down in resentment and then looked over at Albus again upon his departure. She furrowed her brows and cocked her head.

The man casually reached out for his pumpkin juice and shook his head as he drank.

They would talk about it later.

"Ah, Albus," Armando nodded graciously as he opened the office door. "Happy to see you remembered our meeting."

"Of course I remembered," he clicked his tongue, "My memory is still intact and we only made our plans this morning."

Armando did not pay any attention at all to the intentional smart Albus had placed within every syllable he spoke. Rather, he closed the door behind them and gestured for the professor to sit at the chair usually reserved for ill-behaved students across from the desk. He was either oblivious or too excited for the meeting to even care.

Indeed, there was a nervous, excitable energy about him now that they were in his office and not in the Great Hall. It was only barely perceptible: the length of his stride, the twitch of a hand, the smile. But it was most evident to Albus: the headmaster was certainly up to something.

Armando smiled like a sly old fox as he sat down, sending a wave of fear hitherto unknown down Albus's spine. What was this meeting?

"You enjoyed yourself, being away from the school?" the headmaster asked casually, grin glued to his expression.

"It was a nice change, yes," he responded enigmatically. His eyes looked around for a clue, any clue as to what was before him: no papers, no artifacts seemed to be out of place. The room was well-manicured perfection, in fact. Even the portraits seemed to all be sleeping, snoring loudly in the morning stillness.

"Hm. I wonder that maybe I was too harsh upon you earlier this term. I wonder," he sat back in his chair and clicked his fingers together methodically, "that maybe it would do you a service to leave the grounds more often. You seem very chipper this morning—for you."

When was happiness a crime?

Albus blinked, "Do I?"

"Oh yes. I can't help but attribute that to your leaving to go with your own kind."

He hated this man. He hated every slimy word that came out of his oily mouth and desperately wished that he would get to the point rather than throwing out jabs solely to irritate him. But of course it was working! What a bastard.

He licked his lips, "My own kind?"

"Intellectuals," Armando nodded. "Spending the weekend with people who have your own interests, your will to explore the unknown."

As though Dippet had any understanding at all of the intricacies of magic and the universe. He understood nothing but obtaining power and keeping it. He empathized only with the victors, only with strength. Strength had nothing to do with anything but the values society placed upon something, which was ever-changing. It was not constant like nature: human nature, animal nature, cellular nature.

Albus chose not to engage. "We hardly explored anything, just droned on with facts and figures."

"Facts and figures to do with transfiguration, your chosen subject of study," he encouraged with a wicked nod. "You have a keen interest in uh, cellular regeneration, I believe? I read your paper. Very interesting topic."

Like hell he did.

"I didn't know you had an interest in transfiguration."

In the background, one or two of the portraits cracked their eyelids open, several turned their aged heads so their ears were closer to the discussion.

"I have an interest in my staff, Albus," he grinned maliciously, clearly closing in on his prey. "I like to know something about all of you. Your political leanings, your educational engagement, your pets"—he paused purposefully, a glint in his eye—"What did you end up naming that tabby cat?"

Nausea rampaged his head as realization struck him.

Merlin.

Armando knew.

Albus shrugged as coolly as he could, "Kitty."

"Hm," he raised his eyebrow ever-so-slightly behind his intertwined hands, "Kitty does have some strange habits, I've noticed. It leaves your office—without any observation of entry—and walks to the prefect baths…but is nowhere to be seen after that. Now, here is the funny part: Minerva McGonagall is seen entering your office sometimes hours before Kitty leaves and she is seen leaving the prefect baths."

The man stared at the headmaster in silence, frozen, and unwilling to feed his appetite with a hot-blooded defense: he was had. He rattled his brain quickly, in search of any sort of defense that could save him, save them. They certainly weren't having lessons anymore. Maybe she needed help for her NEWT studies? Or she was writing her own paper for publishing? No, that wouldn't explain her midnight returns to the dormitory.

How stupid of them!

Armando leaned forward with a carnivorous grin, "I think, perhaps, you ought to acquiesce to your demonstrable culpability, Albus. An affair has been occurring between you and Miss McGonagall beneath my nose."

He swallowed, not willing to give any more away.

He did not feel guilt for what he had done with Minerva. He did everything in his power to keep it from happening and when attraction did finally take its course, he was free. All the guilt and anger he did carry with him was redirected to make other changes. He was not the same man he was at the beginning of the term and that was because of Minerva and the affair.

Culpable?

No one was to blame.

"I acquiesce," he stated simply.

Dippet sat there for a moment, eyeing Albus carefully. He expected a fight and there was none, certainly not regarding the existence of the affair. Armando already had proven that he knew exactly how it was done: all Albus could possibly do was maintain as many secrets as he could. He would not give up Minerva to the headmaster for anything, not in any way that mattered.

"When did it start?"

Albus shook his head. Absolutely not. Armando would not be told when or how or what. He would receive no satisfaction from this "meeting", this ambush. He would not feel vindicated or correct or (Merlin forbid) in control. "No, we will not be discussing that."

"Has it been months? Weeks?" he pressed slowly, as though trying to pick which artery to gnaw on first for the purposes of playing with his food.

He shook his head again and then stared at the man, waiting for his next question that would certainly go unanswered.

His heart sped in his ribcage: thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.

"Of course, I blame myself, Albus," he shrugged, trying a new tactic. "I insisted that you have private lessons with her. I'll admit, it seemed largely a snitch-catch for me: my depressed and insubordinate transfiguration professor being forced to teach after hours and the pride of the Gryffindor House gaining a paper-worthy skill. Success," he threw his arms up dramatically.

Albus's blood boiled hot beneath his skin, "We both knew exactly what you were doing, Armando."

He shrugged, arms still outstretched. "That didn't stop either of you from doing as was planned for you. But you're right," he nodded with cold eyes, "You made some of your own choices, human as you are. You were clever," he pointed at Albus with a nod, "You saw each other openly because of the parameters I set for you, the expectations I set for you both. I wondered what was taking her so long," he scratched his chin dramatically and then gave an even more dramatic guffaw, "Liars! You both lied outright to me. From you, I would have expected it. From Miss McGonagall…now, that was truly surprising," he nodded, as though both disgusted and impressed. "But she has made an open mockery of me. I see that I misread her. Which," he pursed his lips, "brings me back to my original point: if anyone is to blame, it is me. I brought you two together."

Did his audacity know no bounds?

Albus growled back—he would not give Armando this satisfaction—"You are responsible for the distrust around the school. You are responsible the chaos. But you are not responsible for the only goodness I have known," Albus stood up, blood and anger rising. "You cannot take credit when your malicious intentions have the inverse effects!" he slammed his hands on the desk, "We found each other despite what you tried to do! We found a way to survive despite your contrivances."

Dippet found this comical, it was evident on his toothy grin and short, mocking laugh. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, as though watching his favorite barbershop quartet.

Anger raged within Albus.

"Does your hubris know no bounds? Do you believe you've conquered us? Do you believe that you've won?!"

Albus was talking about much more than his relationship with Minerva, he realized. He was reaching into the political, into power and war. The last two months seeped into him and filled him with as many thoughts and feelings as he had ever had.

And then he was sober.

Armando had won.

Silence fell upon them.

Albus daren't say anything more. He continued to stand in front of the headmaster's desk, waiting for an answer that he knew would not come.

Was it seconds or minutes that passed?

It didn't matter, really.

They knew what they thought of each other and it would not end well for Albus. Armando had been given an excuse to do what he wished, though that was anyone's guess. His sly grin stayed menacingly on his face as he thought to himself, savoring as much ammunition as he possibly could.

The headmaster's voice was low, slow and wrought with superiority, "I hope you are ashamed of yourself. You've taken advantage of a student."

That's not what happened at all. There was no abuse here, not of age or power or even sex. They had nothing but respect and love for each other. But he couldn't well get into it, could he? "Minerva," Albus stated calmly with a clenched fist, "is of age. She is capable of making her own choices."

"Is that how you quell your conscience at night?" he raised an eyebrow, "After you've sent her back to Gryffindor Tower?"

He felt his nostrils flair and face grow red. A long, slow exhalation left his nose before replying simply, "I never forced her to come."

"Because she's a teenager," he spat coldly. "Of course she came to you. She came to the first man to show her interest, to the first sad, lonely bloke that was stupid enough to think that it might be a good idea. Over and over"—he hit his desk with a thud repetitively—"and over and over again, you've made the wrong choice! And for what?" He raised his palms upward. "To exert your frustrations? To get at me? This isn't a rule meant to be broken!"

"I know that," he gritted his teeth.

He hit his desk again, "Then why was it?!"

Silence rang loud and clear throughout the room.

Albus blinked, unwilling to give Armando the satisfaction of raising his own voice again.

The headmaster sighed despite his heavy, angry breathing.

Armando nodded, cold eyes staring at Albus intently. "Very well. I will make this as simple as I can. Ordinarily, I would terminate you from my staff, but I rather like you under my thumb. And truth be told, Hogwarts has had enough press lately for me to feel that I ought to take that path," his lip twitched upwards.

He couldn't live any longer under this asinine man Hogwarts took for a leader. Anywhere else would be better after this.

"You can't stop me from resigning," Albus stated pointedly.

"No," he shook his head, "I cannot. And not too long ago, I found myself wondering what really kept you here," he raised a condescending finger. "Of course, I did make some threats regarding future employment to you, but we both know that you could find other employment outside the school. I think your reasoning is clear, now." Armando clicked his tongue in an effort to keep Albus from retorting, "My second option of course is to expel Miss McGonagall."

Horror descended upon Albus at the thought. He couldn't do that. Minerva didn't deserve that. All she ever did was love him: "You wouldn't dare."

"Of course not," Armando shrugged and then pressed on after clearly noting Albus's expression of relief. "How could I possibly expel my shining example of youthful intelligence and leave your privileged, combative, lecherous name on my staff? No, that would not be right at all. So that leaves me with two options: I release both of you from the school…or I let both of you stay on the condition that the relationship is terminated."

Albus swallowed, clearly seeing the path laid before him: no more Minerva.

"As I have already indicated," Armando sighed, "I would prefer not to terminate anyone to save the name of the school and my legacy," he paused. "I have only one option that I find harmonious with my goals as headmaster. And, I think, it is the best for both you and Miss McGonagall. You must know how wrong this affair is."

"I'll marry her," he claimed with every good intention he had ever had. "You can't expel her for an affair if it's legally binding."

Armando blinked in what Albus could only perceive as genuine shock, but he rallied quickly. His voice was indignant, "You would rather destroy that girl's future just to spite me, rather than do the right, noble thing and accept defeat?"

Rage seethed through Albus. Accept defeat?!

"Do you honestly think this is just about you and me? About politics?" he shouted, "Nothing is worth doing without her at my side. Nothing! I can't just toss her aside like a broken broom. I won't do it!"

The man stood up from his chair, grinning triumphantly at Albus's outburst. His icy tone made clear the end of the conversation: "Then I will sack you and expel her. You can go and do whatever you well please, but she will have no one to blame but you for her expulsion. If you want to marry her, then I hope you live to regret it. My expectations are clear," he hissed, "you have until tomorrow evening. I will know if you make the wrong choice."

Albus stood up from his chair, turned, and left the headmaster's office.

–If he stayed any longer, he surely would be blowing the man to smithereens and he certainly did not want to do that in a room full of trustworthy witnesses. Things were only beginning to feel hopeless: he could not make it worse by a life sentence in Azkaban. But Merlin, it would give him such immeasurable pleasure to see a charred spot where Armando stood and be surrounded by victorious silence. Tyrannical Headmaster, Slain!—that's what the headline would be.

For the Greater Good.

His mind gave a jolt as the ever-winding stairs came to the bottom landing and his stomach dropped with an inaudible thud: he had so much to do. He would be responsible for the end of the war. He would find Gellert and make right his life path. He would…marry Minerva. Albus nodded very slowly to himself as he stepped into the corridor.

Tears welled slowly as he made his way to his office, blurring the familiar lines of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was unable to be certain which blobs of students he passed, though he passed several and wished them a good morning.

It was not a good morning.

The only way to keep his love in this place of books and learning where she belonged was to no longer be her love, to place a barrier between them that could not be broken. Armando would not stand for friends. He almost certainly would not even stand for student-teacher who wrote extra long comments in the margin of graded papers. No, Armando had to know that it was over.

What would the point be, otherwise?

If he thought that there was any chance that a spark existed, he would surely expel Minerva. And she had worked so hard for so long. Following through, now that was an attribute. Resilience, that was an attribute! She exceled in school out of natural talent and intelligence, but she stayed because of the expectation. And she would never disappoint anyone.

–He would disappoint her, though.

The man turned the corner and walked through his empty classroom into his office in a mesmerized, secondhand nature. He knew the steps to his sanctuary…perhaps today it was more of a prison.

Albus closed the door behind him.

The silence of the room crept upon him, heavier than it had ever been before.

He looked at his desk, covered with stacks of papers. He had planned on reading those in this hour. Somehow second year tests seemed unimportant.

The desk was not, though: his mind drifted back to their first kiss, the one that simply could not be helped:

She had done it: she was an animagus.

Merlin, he was proud. His throat swelled, he was so proud.

While she made her victory lap around the classroom, he felt his smile fade as utter loss replaced it. This would be the end of it, wouldn't it? He would have no Minerva McGonagall to talk to anymore. She would go back to her studies, write a paper, maybe, and the term would fade into their memories.

His dearest friend would be gone.

He walked to his office as emotion overcame him: a tear began forming in the corner of his eye which he quickly wiped away. It was silly, to feel sad. This is what they had been working towards, after all. It would send the wrong message if she knew he felt loss over this.

He leaned against his desk and took a big breath to stop feeling sorry for himself.

And then, she appeared; right beside him. As though she knew exactly what was happening in his mind, she stood next to him with all the hope and empathy a young person could possess. This should have been her moment of triumph, but she was beside him.

In other moments, he had allowed himself to think how pretty she was. But there, in that moment, she was striking with those big green eyes, with those pale lips, with that bright spirit. She could do anything. "You've done beautifully," he said with glossy eyes.

Emotion grew on her face, too. "Thank you," and then added softly, "Albus."

Hearing his name from those sweet lips was too much for him. How could he not kiss this beautiful, sweet, admirable creature? He didn't care about the consequences. All he wanted was to show that he cared.

So he did.

He ran his hand along her cheek and allowed Minerva to tip her head up to him. She leaned into his lips, confirming every impulse he felt within himself.

She kissed him back.

A sob escaped him from deep, deep down in his stomach, clawing its way up his throat and into the quiet. It died as it barely started, deadened by his hand upon his mouth. He doubled over, one hand over his lips and another clenching his chest.

He had done this to himself.

Albus could direct all of his hatred at Armando, but it was his burden to bear. He grew friendly with Minerva. He fell in love with her. He kissed her. He…he was the one who had the affair. And he would have to be the monster who ended it.

His back and shoulders slid downwards against the door to his office, arms clenched over his aching chest as a deep, soundless cry left his lips. He swallowed the sob, which only turned into a flood of tears. He buried his head in his knees and shook.

There was no choice: he had to tell her it was over.

She had to graduate. She had to excel. She didn't need him for that. She didn't need him at all, really. It was he who needed her. He needed her optimism. He needed her smile. He needed her touch. What is it that she got from him?

Merlin, he was just a burden, wasn't he?

He was the depressed man that needed to find a purpose and she gave him one. She sacrificed her friends. She sacrificed her free time. She risked expulsion.

All he ever did was threaten to leave the school and fail to follow-through.

He exhaled the tears dripping over his lips and watched the mist hit the stone floor.

Damn it.

Another fine mess he'd gotten himself into, another innocent that he corrupted.

He never meant for it to be this way. He never meant to fall in love. All he wanted was to do as he was asked and help her become an animagus. And then he built her up in his mind. He gave her jewelry. He gave himself to her. There was only one secret of his that she did not have and she would never have it.

–not that she sought anything from him.

His chest writhed against his ribcage.

She never asked anything of him, except to make the choice to stay or go.

And he chose to stay because of her.

Even though he knew they could not sustain it, he stayed to be with her. He chose to endanger her. He was selfish.

Is selfish.

His blurred vision turned to the cold gray ceiling and he screamed. He screamed as loud as he could through strained vocal cords and refused to breathe until every last sound within him was gone. He screamed away the last two months and their memories. He screamed away the next twenty-four hours which would no doubt haunt him for the rest of his life. And he screamed away the notion that he deserved love.

He was going to destroy the only creature that loved him back.

END PART III

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