Disclaimer: Characters and ideas from the Harry Potter franchise are not my own.

Trigger Warning(s): Depictions of and/or references to mental illness, disordered eating, depression, and suicide.

Not Alone

Ch. 20: Atonement

On weekday mornings, Minerva took up flying with Rolanda half the days and chatting with Pomona on the others while the Herbology professor tended to her plants before breakfast. Weekends and evenings she continued to spend with Albus. They'd largely resumed their nightly chess matches, but on occasion, they'd use the earlier evening hours to do some work together before relaxing over tea and ginger newts. Her weekly appointments with Poppy were often followed by a friendly chat, time permitting for the school matron. As Minerva fell into the routine, being with a friend during most of her "free" time started to feel less like she was being chaperoned and more like they were enjoying each other's company.

One Sunday morning in mid-May, Minerva knocked on the door to Rolanda's office, clad in new Quidditch robes with her old broomstick in hand.

"Look at you!" The flying instructor beamed at her friend, delighted by her scarlet-and-gold Quidditch kit.

"I finally re-outgrew my team uniform from my school days. Since I've been out with you regularly—and Poppy has agreed to let me toss a Quaffle around with you—I decided to purchase a new set of flying robes last weekend."

Rolanda's excitement grew. "Poppy is finally letting you touch a Quaffle again? Do you want to go out to the pitch and dust off your shooting skills?"

"My shoulder might regret this, but yes. Let's do it."

"Brilliant. Hold my broom. I'll go fetch one from a ball case."

Minerva suddenly found a Cleansweep Seven in her left hand. "So, this is a Seven? It does have some obviously improved features over my old Five here…"

"Do you want to try it? I usually rotate brooms each week to give them a rest, but I can take out my Comet 260 an extra day." The flying instructor emerged from her office with a Quaffle. "Well?"

"It's tempting. I haven't flown a different broom in almost thirty years."

"Damn, Min. You must have Charmed the hell out of it if it's still in decent condition. Considering you actually use it, a broom that old would typically show much more wear, no matter how well-maintained."

"Just like my old Quidditch uniform. Filius helped me with my broom, though." Minerva pursed her lips to think another moment. "You'll really let me try it?"

"Sure. Besides, I hear they're already working on the Eight."

"Ah, so you'll let me borrow your soon-to-be obsolete broom," Minerva said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I think I would like to try it. Would you let me stow my broom here for now?"

"Of course. Trade you." Rolanda swapped the Quaffle for the aging Cleansweep Five and re-entered her office to stash Minerva's broom and pick up her Comet 260. "Okay. Now, we're ready."

The two witches turned on their heels and began to walk through the corridors toward the Quidditch pitch.

"Thanks, Ro. I feel almost giddy—I'm borrowing a new broom, I've got new robes, and I have a Quaffle in hand for the first time in ages. Why, I don't think I've felt like this since I was a student."

"Honestly, I love your House pride, Min. You didn't pick that off the rack; you asked for the latest Gryffindor uniform at Spintwitches Sporting Needs, didn't you? That's the new design that debuts next school year."

Minerva quirked an eyebrow at her friend. "So what if I did?"

Rolanda laughed and reached over to pull up Minerva's hood, revealing her name and position on the back of the outer robe. "Hah! You even had it customized! I love it—you got 'HEAD OF HOUSE' under your name! You're too much, Min."

"That's Albus's doing. He thought 'McGONAGALL' wasn't enough. Did you know he alters nearly all of his robes—all his stars and crescent moons and whatnot?"

"Doesn't surprise me. He's got a certain, erm, eccentricity to his style that I'm not sure you can readily find in the shops." Rolanda grinned. "You, however, walked into Madam Malkin's a long time ago and said, 'Do you have teaching robes in green? I'll have seven sets, thank you.'"

"Only five, and there is nothing wrong with simplicity!" Minerva argued and lightly pegged her friend with the Quaffle.

"Hey! We're not on the pitch yet! Not to mention, I don't think throwing Quaffles at each other was what Poppy had in mind when she gave you her blessing." The flying instructor ran ahead to pick up the ball that had rolled away from them. "You like to throw things at your friends when you're annoyed, don't you?"

"I cause no harm. I could throw jinxes and hexes instead, or worse, curses—but I'd save those for my enemies."

"Glad I'm your friend, then. I can take Quaffles to the arm and pillows to the head." Rolanda pushed open a set of double doors that led onto the Quidditch pitch. "Well, here we are. Let's run some simple passing drills to warm up."

"I'll follow your lead, Captain Hooch," Minerva said, mounting the Cleansweep Seven and kicking off. She settled her boots into the footholds as she ascended and appreciated the relative smoothness of the takeoff compared to her Five.

"Okay, McGonagall, twenty lateral passes—throw ten to me and catch ten of mine." As the two witches' warmup progressed, Rolanda gradually upped the complexity of passing drills until she decided that they could move on to shooting exercises. "You're doing well! I suppose talent doesn't fade, does it?"

"Despite the years, it seems I have somehow retained a bit of muscle memory," Minerva said breathlessly. "But surely, I'm showing my age—those long passes and diving catches took much more effort than I remember."

"Your 'age,' Min? Have you forgotten that I'm older than you?"

"Are you, now? It's hard to keep track when it's been your 'forty-ninth' birthday for—what is it—decades now? I can admit to being a middle-aged woman; I am fifty-two, after all."

"Well, maybe when I'm as old as your boyfriend, I'll start celebrating my ninety-ninth birthday eternally. You're still young as far as witches go." Rolanda tossed the Quaffle. "Catch! I'm going to the goalposts—come shoot on me."

Minerva caught the ball and rolled her eyes. "Stop calling him my 'boyfriend'—we're adults. He's over a hundred, for Merlin's sake." She chased after her friend. "I've got to call myself old, or else I'll feel a bit ridiculous for being in love with a centenarian."

"So, you're 'in love,' eh? That's sweet," Rolanda said as she mirrored Minerva's movements, attempting to block her path to the three hoops behind her. "I daresay he's in love with you, too, Min."

"Don't try to distract me, Ro."

"I'm not trying to distract you; I'm simply having a conversation."

"Well, it's a distracting conversation. We've only been together six months; I worry he'll tire of me when I'm no longer exciting." And that would hurt like hell because I somehow love him more deeply than I could have imagined before… all this. She took a sudden dive and swerved toward the center goalpost, preparing to launch the Quaffle.

"What do you mean, when you're 'no longer exciting'?" Rolanda sped in front to block the shot. "You're certainly one of the few people who could excite him intellectually, and he's got to be quite chuffed to have a pretty young thing like you at his side."

Now that Rolanda had the ball, the two switched roles, and Minerva played at Keeper. "Do you really think he's so vain as to care that I'm half his age?"

"I am sure that he loves you for your mind, but if pressed, I suspect he'd confess to enjoying your relative youth. Haven't you told us that he's a 'cheeky bastard' sometimes? He's got to be thrilled that you're young, fit, and—dare I say it—still perky." The flying instructor winked and took a shot on the right goal.

"Rolanda! You have some cheek, too!" Minerva dove for the Quaffle but missed by mere inches, blaming her delayed reaction time on her friend's brazen comments about her body. Certain that her cheeks were burning, she was glad to fly away to fetch the ball that had fallen to the ground beyond the goalposts. Well, she's not wrong; Albus is unafraid to tell me what he finds attractive about me.

"Sorry, Min, was I too bold?" Rolanda called after her friend. When she remained alone in the air after a long minute, she decided to descend. "All impertinence aside, I am confident that Albus has fallen in love with you, too. I reckon he's matured more over the past six months than he has over the entire time I've worked here—that's because of you, I'm sure," she added gently. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Minerva sat on the grass, her robes pooled out around her, and the Cleansweep Seven resting by her side. She hunched over, hiding her face in her hands, and wept.

"I'm going to pull a Pomona right now, okay?" Rolanda landed, set down her broom, too, and wrapped her arms around the weeping woman's shoulders. She held onto her friend, who leaned into her embrace, and waited quietly, patiently, until the sobs subsided.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For crying about my 'boyfriend' like a lovesick teenager."

"May I ask why?"

Minerva sniffled. "Because I'm afraid that he's only with me so that he could play the hero and 'rescue' me. I—I'm really glad to be feeling better—to feel well finally—but what if—what if he discards me for someone or something new to save?"

"Oh, Min, is that what you meant when you said you're worried that he'll grow tired of you?"

"I feel so fucking stupid."

"First, I'll say that you're not stupid. Second, I'll reiterate that I think he's grown up; yes, at one hundred and six years old, I think he decided to grow up. I can't say whether or not he started off trying to be Albus Dumbledore, Greatest Wizard of the Age, to 'save' you, but now he's just Albus, a fallible man who's trying to learn how to do right by the person he loves. The 'person he loves' is you, Minerva.

"I think you'll really want to talk to Pomona about this. You said you reserve curses for your enemies; well, Pomona reserves curses for her friends' enemies. It's possible she threatened Dumbledore, something along the lines of, 'If you ever hurt her, I swear…'"

"Pomona made a threat?"

"To the headmaster, no less."

Minerva pulled away from Rolanda and eyed her incredulously. "You jest. You're just trying to make me laugh."

"I shit you not."

"Pomona. We're talking about Pomona Sprout, perhaps the purest soul who works at this school, and you say she threatened Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes. She takes the 'Hufflepuff loyalty' trait very seriously, and if she's not a loyal friend, then I don't know who is."

"She is quite a proud Hufflepuff."

"And you're a proud Gryffindor. So, pardon me if I sound dismissive right now, but chin up, Min. If you were brave enough to ask out Albus Dumbledore, then I think you're also brave enough to ask him about his long-term intentions for your relationship—not that I think you need to worry. The old man is in it for the long haul."

Minerva's shoulders slumped further. "You say that, but it took me ages to muster up the courage to tell him I wanted a romantic relationship with him. I can't possibly tell him that I'm insecure now that we have that relationship."

"Well, take some Draught of Peace and then put on that Valentine's Day outfit you said gave you confidence. If it doesn't make you feel better, then at least your cleavage will disarm him."

"ROLANDA!" This time, however, Minerva laughed. "Fine, fine. Perhaps I am worrying too much. I am feeling a bit sensitive since today is six months exactly from the night I overdosed."

"Okay, you need another hug, and I'm not sorry." Rolanda pulled her friend back in. "I—Min, I am so fucking proud of you. Do you have something planned for today? I know you've been doing well, but I don't know that you should be left alone with your thoughts, especially tonight. If nothing else, I'll throw this Quaffle all damn day with you even after the sun goes down."

Minerva shrugged. "I don't know what I want to do. I've asked Albus for a quiet evening in, but—and I know this will sound shocking—I don't feel like marking homework this afternoon, so I'm not sure what to do in the meantime," she said. "But for now? Let's get back on our brooms. I believe it's my turn to shoot on you."

Rolanda grinned. "It's 10-to-0. Don't think I'm going to ease up on you now."

The witches continued to swap roles as Chaser and Keeper when each took a shot on goal until Rolanda was ahead, 60-to-40, and they were interrupted by three of their colleagues from the spectator stands.

"Did you two have plans to come in for breakfast at some point?" Poppy Pomfrey yelled out, aided by an Amplifying Charm. She had a hand on her hip.

"Looks like we're in trouble," Rolanda said.

"Have we been out here that long?" Minerva asked as they turned to fly toward their friends. "What time is it, Poppy?"

"It's nearly nine, and you know breakfast ends at ten on Sundays. I figured you might want to get a shower before going to the Great Hall."

"We've been out here for close to three hours? Then, yes, I would like to have a shower first. Thank you, Poppy." Minerva dismounted next to Albus. "Er, while we're all here, I think I'd like to have you over this afternoon if you've got the time. I realize I should have asked sooner, considering I expected I'd need company today, but…" She instinctively grabbed Albus's hand.

"I suppose I could spare an hour or so," Pomona said. "Is something wrong?"

"Erm, no, not exactly."

Albus felt a squeeze of his hand and looked down to see a pair of emerald eyes gazing up at him. He nodded and turned his head back toward Pomona. "It's been six months tonight."

A wave of recognition washed over Pomona. "Then, I definitely have time. Marking essays can wait."

"I plan to release our young Gryffindors who managed to injure each other in yesterday's match, so unless an emergency comes up, I should be able to sneak away later," Poppy said.

"And you know I'll be there, Min," Rolanda said.

"Thank you."

"I believe we'll be in my chambers between meals," Albus said. "Please come up when you're available." He looked at Minerva again. "Well? Shall we go so you can wash up and change?"

"Yes, let's go."

"From here, my office is out of your way. Do you want me to bring your broom to you this afternoon?" Rolanda asked.

"Sure, thanks, that works well. I suppose I should give you this." Minerva handed over the Cleansweep Seven.

"Not a problem—I'll see you later, if not at breakfast, then this afternoon."

Once the quintet made it inside from the spectator stands, they parted ways—Pomona, Rolanda, and Poppy down toward their respective domains, and the remaining couple up toward the Headmaster Tower.

"So, you flew one of Rolanda's brooms today?" Albus asked curiously.

"Yes, she offered to let me try out her newer Cleansweep model. It was quite delightful, actually; if I continue to spend time on the pitch, then I think I might spring for an upgrade. Perhaps for my birthday—if all continues to go well, then this just might be the first year in a long time that I'm happy still to be alive," Minerva mused.

"If we weren't in the corridors, I'd pull you in for a hug right now," the headmaster whispered in his deputy's ear.

Quirking an eyebrow, she murmured her response: "That's all?"

"My dear professor, this is certainly not the place to discuss my further intentions—should you agree to them, of course," he said in a low voice as a group of students passed by nearly within earshot.

Minerva frowned. "No, I suppose here and now are not right for discussing your intentions."

"What's wrong?" Albus asked, sensing something was amiss by her change in facial expression and tone of voice.

"Like you said, we're in the corridors. We should wait until we get to your office."

"Okay," Albus agreed nervously, wondering what caused the sudden shift in mood. He supposed that she would have various conflicting feelings today, but he wasn't thrilled that they might be volatile.

When they arrived at the circular office, Minerva walked straight toward the moving bookcase, flicking her hand to reveal the door. "Let's talk inside." She kicked off her boots and plopped onto the sofa, her flying robes billowing around her.

"Did I say something wrong?" Albus asked as he made sure the door was shut. He joined his partner and shifted the fabric of her robes from a cushion so as not to sit on them.

"No, not really, but also, yes. When you said, 'intentions,' I thought of something Rolanda and I talked about today." She dropped her head and stared at her lap. "Albus, I cried like a silly schoolgirl out there."

"I suspect that you were not crying over something 'silly,' Minerva." He put his arm around her shoulders. "What is it?"

She sniffed. "Damn, I'm doing it again." She folded forward and covered her face with her hands, propping her head up with her elbows on her knees.

I should expect a bit of instability today, Albus reminded himself. They'd talked about "anniversaries"—or in this case, a half-anniversary—of difficult events. He felt pensive and a bit emotional today, too, but surely, it was quite different for Minerva.

"It's okay to cry, love. Would you like to talk, or do you want me just to hold you?"

Somehow, that made her sob harder. "Albus, what will you do if I'm ever well enough not to need you to hold me together?"

"What? What will I do when you get better? Is that what you're asking?" He was utterly bewildered by the question. Hopefully, she'd be well and stay well for a long time, and there were lots of things he wanted to do with her. Granted, there were lots of things he wanted to do, whether in sickness or in health, but he figured health offered more options for what they could do together.

"Yes. What will you do if I have no need of being rescued anymore? Will you be bored by me? Will you move on to the next poor soul who needs saving?"

"Minerva, what? I'm not—you're not a 'damsel in distress' I'm trying to rescue," Albus said. "Are you—are you afraid that I'll leave you when your depression and anxiety are well managed? Why would I do that?"

This doesn't make sense. Why would I leave when things are going well?

"So that you can continue to be Albus Dumbledore, Hero of the Wizarding World—or in this case, Hero of the Broken."

I'm not a hero. She knows damn well that I'm no hero. Does she think I'm with her as some sort of atonement for my mistakes?

"Min, I want to be with you to help you through your struggles, but they're not why I want to be with you. I love you. I love all of you—your heart and mind, your soul and body, 'whole' or 'broken'—not that I believe you're broken, my dear. Do you—do you think that I'm using you as some sort of vanity project?"

"Then why did you tell me there's 'nothing' between us until I woke up from a suicide attempt?"

Oh. I suppose a few words upon her waking up in the Hospital Wing wouldn't suffice forever.

"Because I was stupid. I was blinded by my ego. Was. I thought I could protect you if I kept you at a certain distance. I thought I was too dangerous to be with—not just because I'm famous, or even that I might be a target should war break out again, but because I know I have it in me to be vain and arrogant and power-hungry. Please know that I am trying so damn hard not to be that person anymore. I am trying to be someone who deserves you."

Minerva unfolded and raised her head to study the man beside her. He returned her gaze, his eyes glistening with sadness. She threw herself at his chest and latched onto him, her arms around his neck, resuming her sobs into his robes.

"I'm sorry for accusing you of using me," she said.

"I'm sorry for making you feel like I'm using you." Albus wrapped her up tight in his arms and allowed his tears to spill down his cheeks and into her hair. "I love you, Minerva. I love you, and I will never leave you. I'll prove it to you yet."

Albus and Minerva saw their friends again at lunch, for they had decided to take a late breakfast at home. They cuddled on the sofa until both of them felt better, or perhaps when Minerva decided she really ought to get a shower, finally, after nearly three hours of Quidditch exercises. ("I suppose I do smell a bit like your sweat now, Min," Albus said lightly, once he felt confident that she would be amused—or merely annoyed—rather than angry.)

Pomona accompanied the couple back to the headmaster's sitting room after lunch, while Poppy and Rolanda said they would join them later; the flying instructor needed to stop by her office first to fetch Minerva's Cleansweep Five.

"Now that we're here, may I give you my best Hufflepuff hug, Min?"

"Sure."

Pomona hopped onto the couch next to her friend and tackled her in a hug. Minerva returned the embrace, resting her head on top of Pomona's. They sat together with their arms around each other while Albus chose to sit in an armchair.

"Now, that's a hug of two old friends," he smiled.

"I am not sorry for stealing your woman right now, Albus," Pomona said.

"You haven't stolen me; I've happily allowed you to borrow me. Yes, I said, 'happily'—I do welcome your hugs sometimes, especially on a day like today."

"I'm more excited that you chose a word like 'happy' to describe yourself in the first place. When Albus first told me that he thought something was wrong, I didn't quite believe that you could struggle with anything, let alone your mental health. I've looked up to you since I was eleven, sort of like a big sister, and I suppose I just assumed that everything you made look effortless truly was easy for you. I know that I don't have the knowledge of Poppy, or the instincts of Ro, or the intimacy you have with Albus, but I hope that I've been able to help you, nonetheless. And I hope that you really are starting to feel happy, Minerva."

"Of course, you've helped me, Pomona. I was terrified for anyone else to find out about what I've been dealing with—I mean, I still am afraid for this all to become public somehow—but you responded so thoughtfully, just like I should have known you would. I appreciate that you balance out Ro's occasional bluntness with your gentleness; it's probably not always easy to tell which approach I need in any given moment. Honestly, I think the most important thing is that you've simply continued to be my friend, that you're not—or at least, I don't think you are—disappointed that I'm not the 'big sister' who always has it together."

"I am not disappointed in you, Min, and I still look up to you. I don't just mean literally."

They heard a knock at the door.

"I'll get it—you two continue your 'sisterly' snuggle." Albus rose to meet their new guest.

"We're not snuggling."

"Come off it, Min—sure, we are. Granted, I don't think we've done this since I was about twelve, though, when I was probably upset about one thing or another."

"You mean when we would study or have a chat on that couch in the library? I suppose I did give you plenty of hugs in your first year. Very few people get to see this side of me, you know."

"Yes, yes, I do know. It's a privilege to be your friend."

"Hufflepufflesnuggle!" Rolanda Hooch's voice exclaimed before her arms descended upon Minerva's other side on the sofa.

"Good heavens, Ro, hello, to you, too," Minerva said, rolling her eyes.

"I brought your broom and Poppy. Albus placed it by the door."

"Presumably, 'it' means my broom and not Poppy."

"Correct, Albus did not 'place' me by the door. How are you feeling today, Min?" the school matron said, sitting in the other armchair across from Albus.

Minerva tried to look at Poppy from between two of her friends. "I'm okay. There's a lot on my mind, and I'm feeling all sorts of emotions all at the same time, but I'm okay. I'm really glad that you're all here for me."

"Six months is both a short time and a long time. A lot has happened."

"It's a bit frightening to think about how easily everything could fall apart and how difficult it would be for things to come back together. Thank you for helping me get to this point. I couldn't have done this alone."

Poppy smiled. "I'm not going to claim you were always cooperative, but I am impressed by how strong you've been. As your mediwitch, I'm pleased that you've physically recovered quite well so far. As your friend, I'm relieved by how much better you have been doing lately."

"And you're not alone with us. We'll always have your back, Min," Pomona said.

"Yes, because we are never going to let go. You're stuck in a Hufflepuff sandwich now," Rolanda added.

Minerva pressed her lips together. "Is it my turn to say something cheeky to get you two off? Because you'll have to leave eventually—I do not believe Albus and I are interested in having a foursome."

"MINERVA!"

Rolanda grabbed a nearby pillow and thwacked Minerva over her the head, while Pomona playfully smacked her on the arm. Meanwhile, Poppy simply sighed, and Albus turned bright red as he slouched low in his seat, trying to blend in with the scarlet throw pillow behind him.

The following afternoon, Minerva met with Healer Loughlin. Their sessions gradually became less fraught, and although she felt like she didn't need therapy as much as she used to, she continued to meet with him each week, "at least until the end of the school year," as she said when they discussed if she wanted to space out their sessions more.

"It's been six months," she said, surprised by how calm she felt. She hadn't even taken Draught of Peace beforehand.

"You've come far in that time, Minerva."

"If you told me six months ago that I'd carve time out of every day to spend with one friend or another to manage my mental health, I'd call you mad. First of all, I wouldn't have admitted that I needed help taking care of my mental health. Second of all, never would I have imagined that socializing every day would be anything but exhausting. Somehow, Pomona and Rolanda have made our mornings together feel relaxing rather than onerous—almost like the way time with Albus feels more like home than being alone in my rooms."

Christopher smiled. "I confess that I was relieved when you said you agreed to regular check-ins with your friends beyond Albus and Poppy, especially following your trip up the Astronomy Tower in winter. You have an excellent set of friends, and I am glad that you've grown to trust them."

"These 'before breakfast dates' have been particularly helpful on days when I don't want to get out of bed. If I'm feeling down, I often just want the space to be with someone, without the expectation that I'll serve as a good company. Ro and I sometimes just fly in silence, or Pomona will take a break from pruning or whatnot to sit with me in her office. It gives me enough of a boost to get through breakfast, and I usually start to feel better when I'm teaching.

"But those days have been happening less often lately. I also haven't felt like I've needed Draught of Peace every day in recent weeks, which I think is a positive sign. It seems that 'good'—or at least, 'content'—has increasingly felt normal rather than novel. I don't know what I imagined 'good' would look like, but whenever I notice that I'm enjoying something, I feel incredibly grateful." She pulled a tartan handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

"It's bittersweet, in a way," she continued. "I'm not sure how to explain it. I am glad to be doing a lot better day to day, but I'm also… sad to know what it's like to hurt so much. Does that make sense? Would I be as appreciative without the contrast?"

Christopher shrugged. "I can't answer that question for you, Minerva, but I do think I understand what you're saying."

"It's an odd feeling to sit with."

"Are you okay to sit with it? For now, at least—our time is almost up today."

Minerva nodded. "I suppose I did spend quite a bit of time at the beginning lamenting that Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup. Anyway, yes, I'm okay. Yesterday was six months exactly, and I spent the afternoon with everyone. And Albus will be there for me when I get back today in case I'd like company."

"Good. I'll see you next week, then."

"Yes, I'll see you then. Thank you, Christopher."

"Take care."

Since spring had arrived in Scotland, Minerva resumed returning to the castle on foot. Today, however, cloud cover turned to crying skies at some point during her session with Healer Loughlin, so she pulled up the hood of her cloak and hurried to the Hog's Head. As she pushed open the door, she was surprised to overhear Aberforth talking to someone.

"You chose much better this time," his gruff voice spoke. "You just might be less insufferable now."

"I think so, too—on both points," a familiar voice agreed.

"Albus?" Minerva asked from the doorway as she removed her hood.

The innkeeper looked in her direction while his guest whirled around.

"Hello, Minerva," the brothers said in unison—Aberforth was calm, while Albus was flustered.

"The sudden rainstorm has brought you to the Floo, eh?" Aberforth said.

"I—I suppose you wouldn't walk home in a downpour," Albus stammered.

"No, I wouldn't. What are you doing here?"

"Er, I was just—"

"My older brother thought he'd try to convince me that he's not such a selfish, pompous, know-it-all anymore," Aberforth cut in. "Only took him ninety years to become slightly less of an arse."

Albus did not dispute the statement. He simply maintained a sheepish expression as he looked at Minerva.

Feeling like she interrupted something private between the two Dumbledores, she thought it best that she made her exit. "Shall I show myself upstairs?"

"I'll go with you." Albus found his voice again.

"Thank you, as always, Ab," Minerva said as they headed for the staircase. When they were halfway up, the younger Dumbledore grunted to regain their attention.

"I suppose I am willing to visit you at the castle for once. Just give me enough notice of when you want me there."

Albus responded with a small smile. "Thank you, Aberforth."

The couple continued up the stairs and through the fireplace. Once they both arrived in the Transfiguration professor's office, she decided to ask Albus to clarify what just happened.

"What was that about?" She hung her cloak on the coat tree as her partner sat in her guest chair.

"My visit with Aberforth?"

"Yes. What else would I be talking about?"

"Erm, I don't know. I felt it was about time I made a good faith effort in repairing my relationship with my little brother. Your appearance made me realize I stayed longer than I intended; I meant to be back in my office in time for your return."

Minerva took her seat behind the desk and eyed him quizzically. "Did you really think an hour or so would be enough time? Like he said, it's been about ninety years."

Albus sighed. "Overly optimistic, I suppose? It's a start, at least."

"Why now, if I may ask?"

"Our conversation yesterday might have been a motivating factor."

"Was there some other reason? It sounded like you asked him to visit."

"I—yes. Yes, I did. I was thinking in the summer, perhaps around my birthday. Would that be okay?"

"Albus, it's your birthday. I don't think you need to ask my permission."

"No, but I—I don't want to conflict with any of your summer plans. You usually visit your brother at some point, right?"

"Yes, I tend to spend a few days with Malcolm and his family, but I haven't made those plans yet. I typically wait until the end of the school year to schedule my trip," Minerva said. "So, you want me here if Aberforth visits? You don't want brotherly bonding time with just the two of you?"

"Oh, no, I'll need you here."

"Of course, I am happy to join you, but I am confused as to why you seem so nervous. I know he doesn't come up to see you often, but he is still your brother."

"I might have told him that we are together," Albus said quickly. Despite his beard, it was clear his face was flushed.

"I assumed you told him ages ago when you had the Floo set up between my office and the Hog's Head," Minerva said, puzzled by her partner's mannerisms. "You're acting strangely, dear, like you've asked Ab to meet me for the first time. In case you've forgotten somehow, we have indeed met. We've seen each other semi-regularly for the past several months, in fact."

"Er, well, it's also possible that I asked him another favor."

"Such as?"

"That's between us for now. Brotherly things, you know."

Minerva blinked.

"Okay, okay. I know you don't love surprises. So, for now, I'll say that I've asked him to help me with something I'd like to do with you this summer. I assure you, as much as I hope you will say yes, that you do not have to accept what I propose we do. But until Aberforth completes the favor I've asked, I will say no more."

"If it's as thoughtful as the date night you planned for Valentine's Day, then I suppose I can accept that you wish to surprise me."

"Oh, Minerva, my love, it will be—and far beyond, I hope." Albus reached his wand backward to cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door and leaned across the desk to kiss his partner.

Author's Note: I have planned one more chapter, which I hope will more or less tie things up in this story and set the stage for a sequel. As always, thank you, thank you for reading, following, favoriting, and/or reviewing!