Super short, I know. Just wanted to get a little out before next chapter which might be, dare I say it, rated M :0 so sorry I've been MIA. It's been a summer. Started work, got my heart hurt, the usual.
That summer in Cornwall would be known as the summer of Minerva and Albus. The two pushed aside their responsibilities for those 8 blissful weeks, ignoring the aftermath of the war and miscarriage and instead simply getting to know each other without any power dynamics or external pressures influencing their relationship anymore.
Evenings were spent dancing around the kitchen sharing a bottle of wine. Minerva would snake her arms around Albus's neck and look up at him, right into his eyes, smiling and giggling uncontrollably. The night would inevitably end with them tangled on the tile floor, the spilt wine going unnoticed by either party.
Their days were spent walking along the beach, stumbling into each other and holding hands. Minerva was truly so bubbly and giggly to be out in public with him twirling her around in circles. She felt silly almost, a feeling she hadn't known since childhood. They'd reached that level of intimacy where you could talk about anything and everything, or nothing at all. They could sit comfortably in each other's silence, side by side in bed reading books. One could be on the loo while the other was brushing their teeth. It had reached that level of familiarity, and to Minerva, that was beautiful, comfortable, relieving. She hoped she'd never have to go through those awkward stages of getting to know a lover again. She new Albus was her first, but she wanted him to be her only. Minerva had never felt so close to another person before, which is what made summer's end so particularly hard.
The trouble started in September, as the lovers were jerked back into reality by the advent of a Ministry ball in Albus's honor. After a decrepit government owl dropped off the invite as Minerva and Albus sat drinking their morning tea in the breakfast room, Minerva casually mentioned, "I suppose I'll have to go to Diagon Alley to find suitable robes for the occasion."
Albus looked surprised. "Oh? I didn't think you would be attending."
"Would I not be your date?" Minerva asked, puzzled.
"Well, my dear, do you think that's the smartest idea? We wouldn't want to cause a stir, overshadow the big event."
"The big event? You mean you defeating Grindelwald? And you're worried I'll overshadow that?" Now, she was annoyed. Offended, even.
"I just don't know if it makes sense to go public now. We've had such a good summer, Minerva. Why would you want to ruin that? Sorry, not you, just our being together, right before the end of the holidays."
"Are you ashamed of me, is that it? I'm not good enough for you? Why can't we be seen together?" Minerva was red at this point. She felt so small, so young, so frustrated compared to him.
"Gods, no, Minerva! If anything, you should be the one embarrassed to be with me, basically an old man compared to you. And I am so proud of everything you have accomplished so far, you inspire me, I mean that." Albus's words came off as slightly paternalistic, patronizing even, but Minerva also felt touch. It would be - no, it is- an honor to be with you, Minerva."
She started to cry. Those were some of the kindest words he or anyone had ever said to her. Minerva had never held herself in a high light, always so critical of any small errors in her work or her appearance, and always doubting whether she really belonged at Hogwarts or if Albus really cared. But the sincerity with which he spoke those words had her temporarily feeling as though she was someone whom it was an honor to be with, that she herself was the prize and not the other way around.
Minerva would let him win this for now. She would let it go. They went back to breakfast, she saw him off in the Floo to the ball later that week, but couldn't shake the feeling that they'd never be public, she'd never be the one escorting him to a function, that this relationship would always have some element of secrecy.