A/N: Thank you for everything. I hope you all don't want to kill me after this chapter.
For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.
Chapter Twenty: December 1943, Pt. I
"Miss McGonagall?" Albus called after her as she was packing her bags. "Would you be able to stay after class for a moment?"
A couple of weeks had passed since the first task, and Minerva had come to the conclusion that she was mildly traumatized after seeing her new boggart's form. While she had wanted to see Albus immediately after she had finished the task, once they had finally been able to speak, it was admittedly hard for her to look at him. Every night, she woke up with nightmares about him dying in grotesque ways, and she relived those nightmares every time she saw him in class. Minerva had even gone so far as to put a moratorium on their Thursday night lessons, hoping it would help. Her one saving grace was the fact that the spectators couldn't see her Boggart; she had been too high up on the bridge for anyone to see exactly what had transpired. She had almost cried with relief when she had asked Poppy what they had all made of it, thrilled that no one had seen a dying Albus.
"Yes, of course." She turned around to face him, not quite meeting his eyes. "What can I help you with, Professor?"
"I was wondering if you would be able to come to my office tonight to resume our regular sessions," Albus spoke tentatively. "I have a few things to go over with you in your capacity as Head Girl, and I also would like to speak to you about the tournament. Other than a cursory word shortly after, we haven't spoken about it."
"There's nothing to talk about, Professor," Minerva said brusquely. "We prepared well, and I won. We need to think ahead now, not backwards." She sighed, acquiescing, looking at his feet. "Of course, I will come to your office tonight. I would never shirk my duties, sir."
She walked out of the classroom, shutting the door softly. Albus stared at it, confused, wondering what on earth had happened that made her so reluctant to look him in the eyes.
It was the first topic he addressed when she entered his office that evening. As soon as Minerva had sat down, he slid her usual teacup across the desk. "Now, Minerva, this may be blunt of me, but did I do something to make you uncomfortable?"
Her cheeks flushed at his uncharacteristic boldness. He was not typically one to make the first move. "No, of course not, Albus."
"I'm glad to hear that. May I ask why it is, then, that you have barely looked me in the eyes since the first task?"
"That's not true," Minerva protested. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his eyebrow raise. "Okay, fine. It is true."
"Did something happen during the task to make you uncomfortable in my presence?" Albus looked at her, trying to discern what the issue was. "If you tell me what it is, I can try to resolve it."
Minerva fiddled with her teacup, wanting to give him enough information that he'd stop prying while not fully admitting what she had seen. "The task was relatively simple, as you know: get through the obstacles, and then make it to the end. I was making it through perfectly fine, and then-" her voice faltered.
"And then you fell," Albus prompted her gently.
"Yes. Then I fell," Minerva shuddered. "I fell because my boggart appeared, and it wasn't what I was expecting."
"And it had something to do with me?" If Albus' eyebrows could raise any higher, they'd be invisible under his hair.
"Yes," Minerva couldn't lie to him. "I don't want to say anything else."
"I will respect that," he told her. "All I will say is that what you saw wasn't real. It was a figment of your worst imaginings. While I know that most likely won't help your subconscious, particularly if you're having visions or nightmares, you need to remember that. Besides," he attempted to speak jovially, "you haven't failed out of anything, you're still graduating, and I'm as alive as I've ever been, unless I've turned into a ghost during the night à la Cuthbert."
Minerva snorted at that remark. "No, you're not a ghost-professor just yet."
"I'm lucky that I still have a few years to go on that front," Albus smiled. "Now, you'll really need to look at me sooner rather than later, or it's going to make what I have to say next much more awkward than it already will be."
"Albus, you've seen me naked," she rolled her eyes. He was pleased to note that, at the very least, her wit had returned. "What could be more awkward than that?"
"Ballroom dancing," he informed her. "As tradition dictates, on every Christmas of a Triwizard Tournament, the host school shall hold a Yule Ball. While it is a formal experience, it is also an event for everyone to enjoy themselves. The rules are relaxed, romances run rampant, and the usual troublemaking occurs when someone undoubtedly attempts to spike the punch."
"And how does the hosting of this event impose awkwardness between us?"
"Well," Albus shifted slightly, "as Head of House, I have been set the task of teaching the Gryffindors how to dance in a formal setting. You see, the first part of the night is completely formal; only ballroom dances are permitted. After that, many of us older folks tend to trickle out, and the decidedly younger music commences."
"Ah," Minerva's lips quirked into a smile as she eyed her teacup. "I see how this is awkward for you. Where do I factor into all of this?"
"I need a partner to dance with to demonstrate the steps to the students," Albus began, "and as Head Girl, you're the perfect candidate-"
"Albus, I can't dance!" Minerva gasped, horrified. Her eyes reached his in her moment of desperation.
"Ah, but you can look at me now!" he grinned, leaning back into his chair. "That'll certainly help."
She rolled her eyes again. "You went for the shock tactic to make that work, didn't you? How juvenile."
"Juvenile or not, it worked as intended," Albus laughed. "And if you truly can't dance -which I don't believe, by the way- this will provide you with the opportunity to practice."
"There's no way out of this, is there?" Minerva narrowed her eyes.
"Not at all. That's not even the worst part, I'm afraid," he confessed. "As a champion, you will be expected to open the Yule Ball with your partner."
"I have to be one of the first people on the dance floor?" Her shriek reverberated around his office. "That's not happening, Albus. I can't dance. You may be able to make me dance with you in front of the Gryffindors by citing my duty as Head Girl, but there's no way in hell that I am opening a ball."
"What if I told you it was your duty as a champion?"
"I'd ask you to take me to the Minister so I could hex him myself," Minerva snapped. "This is asinine."
"More asinine than the tasks that you have to face?" Albus pursed his lips, holding in laughter. "Oh, I do wish I could see you try and explain your argument to the Minister."
"Albus, I'll be laughed off the dance floor," she groaned.
"Then you'll have finished your duty earlier than expected."
She stared at him, and she knew by the mirth lining his eyes that her fate was sealed. "You owe me for this."
"I don't think I should be held responsible for your duties at the ball, but I can certainly repay the favour for your kindness in assisting me with your housemates." Albus bit back a smile. "Shall I let you win at Wizard's Chess?"
"Oh, shove off," Minerva laughed. "You'll end up embarrassed to have me on your arm, and I'll certainly cause harm to your feet. Being proved right will be payment enough for me."
"I'll be sure to remember a pillowing charm," Albus retorted. "Now that you're looking at me again, may we discuss the tournament?"
"If we must," Minerva released a weary sigh. "Why are you so fixated on this?"
"Because while I was very, very relieved when I saw you uninjured standing at the end of the slide, I had thought you may want to discuss the clue that you earned for the next task."
"Honestly, Albus, I've been so tired since that I haven't even taken the time to think about it," Minerva replied. "That green vial is sitting protected in my trunk, waiting for me to try to work on it."
"Do you need a dreamless sleep potion, Minerva?" No sooner had he asked the question than said potion came flying into his outstretched hand. He handed it to her. "Take it. You'll feel better with some sleep."
"Thank you," she whispered, pocketing it. There was no need for her to pretend that she didn't need it. She was proud, but she wasn't a fool.
"I think you'll find it a bit easier to put the first task behind you now," Albus said gently. "And once you've done that, you may find it more manageable to think about the next. It always has a personal effect on the champions; it's designed to make your heart ache."
"Are we talking about the second task or the dancing?" Minerva quipped. She smiled when he burst into laughter, finally allowing herself to relax in his presence once again.
"Thank you all very much for coming!" Albus called out happily over the crowd of Gryffindors, hands clapping.
"We didn't get much choice, now did we?" Aidan whispered to Minerva. "How come you know what this is about, and I don't?"
"Be glad you don't," Minerva shuddered, steeling herself for what she knew was coming. He raised his eyebrows at her but didn't comment further.
"Now, I have some exciting news for you all!" Albus began, circling around the cleared area of an abandoned classroom. "As you all know, the Triwizard Tournament brings with it certain traditions and customs. One of these is the Yule Ball, a delightful occasion for all students to enjoy. There will be live music, refreshments, and dancing." He paused as the students began to whisper amongst themselves. "While the second part of the dance is a wonderful opportunity for you to let your hair down, the first part is quite regimented, with formal ballroom dancing required. Ministry officials will be there, as will our guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. We will be expected to be gracious hosts and I hope we can avoid besmirching our school's good name. As your Head of House, I am expecting all of you to be on your best behaviour." His gleaming eyes and smile betrayed his firm tone.
"I also have the wonderful pleasure of teaching you how to ballroom dance. Firstly, I will be instructing you in the art of the Viennese waltz. It's a beautiful classic, albeit difficult to learn. I shall be demonstrating it here for you, and then you can partner off and try amongst yourselves. As Head Girl, Miss McGonagall has kindly agreed to humour me and be my partner for this instructional dance." Albus nodded at her in invitation, and she stood up, cracking her neck as she did so.
"Woah, blimey. I am sooooo glad it's not me," Aidan guffawed as quietly as he could. "Michael, she's gotta dance with Dumbledore!"
Michael shrugged, "If she has to do it, she has to do it."
Minerva grimaced. While she appreciated that he was trying to be respectful of her duties, she was slightly perturbed that he didn't seem to be envious of her dancing with another man, even if it was only their professor. Sighing, she walked over to Albus, shaking her head free of her romantic woes. Clearly, Minerva had lived with Charlotte and Poppy for far too long, them being the romantics that they were.
"Ready, Miss McGonagall?" Albus' eyes were twinkling as he bowed in her direction.
"I should have had you practice with me before," Minerva murmured, curtsying. "This is going to be embarrassing."
"Don't worry," he winked, rising. "I remembered to cushion my toes."
She opened her mouth in horror, ready to retort, but he spoke again before she could, this time to the entire room. "Remember, after you've politely bowed and curtsied to your partner, you take them in the traditional ballroom hold. Men, take your partner's right hand in your left. Your right hand rests on your partner's shoulder blade and their left arm rests on top. Once the music starts, you dance."
Albus held out his left hand for Minerva to hold, and she took it, fully prepared to be embarrassed.
She wasn't expecting to feel what could only be described as an electric current running through her when she grasped it firmly, his hand intertwining with hers.
Nor was she expecting her heartbeat to thump wildly when his right hand came to rest on her shoulder blade, pulling her towards him.
"Miss McGonagall?"
"Uh, yes?" She managed to let a few words out. "Yes, Professor?"
"Your other arm, please." He pointed his chin at her left arm, which was still resting awkwardly by her side.
"Oh," she shifted and placed her arm on top of his, "sorry."
"It's quite alright," Albus muttered an incantation, and the music started. "And now, we dance." He raised his voice. "Everyone, pay attention! When my left foot goes forward, Miss McGonagall steps back with her right foot. You alternate like so, for eight counts. Then you move into a semi-shadow hold, which we will show you next."
If Minerva were able to take her mind off of her erratically beating heart, she would have asked Albus what in Merlin's name a semi-shadow hold was. Instead, she found herself concentrating not only on not making an arse out of herself, but on why her body was reacting the way it was. This was Albus, for Christ's sake. Nothing had ever made her body feel like this, not even Michael. Not even Riddle's kiss, and that was an emotionally charged moment if ever there were one.
"You know," Albus commented as he spun her out and then promptly back into him, "you're not a terrible dancer. You have the rhythm, but you need to pay more attention to your feet placement. Or maybe less, I can't tell."
"What wonderful compliments," Minerva breathed, doing her best to stay upright and keep her heady mind engaged. "Are we almost done here?"
"Just the semi-shadow hold left," he said softly by her ear before speaking to the room once more. "The semi-shadow hold is the same as the first, only reversed." He released Minerva, and she took a deep, calming breath. At least that was over.
Unfortunately, the semi-shadow hold was much worse for Minerva, and she would have done anything to revert to their first position. Albus stood behind her, elevating her right arm so that it was outstretched beside her. He took his right hand and rested it gently on her waist. Minerva was aghast at the number of butterflies that seemed to appear under his hand and spread throughout her body. She twitched, inadvertently shaking herself away from his grasp.
A few of the students laughed. "Everything alright, Miss McGonagall?" She felt his chest rumble behind her, and she swallowed roughly.
"Yes, Professor. I'm just ticklish, sorry about that." She determinedly took his hand in hers and put it back on her waist. Huh, she pondered, the butterflies get worse when I put his hand there.
"I am sorry, Miss McGonagall," Albus apologized. "Not too much longer, I promise."
The next few minutes were agony for Minerva. Not only was she merely mediocre at dancing, but her body was betraying her to a point where she wasn't altogether in control of her own actions anymore. She was incapable of turning her head towards Albus; every time she did, she wanted to break formation and stare into his eyes. In turn, Minerva concentrated far too much on her foot placement, stepping on his toes more often than not.
Albus winced when she tripped and elbowed him in the ribs. "Okay, I think that's enough. Alright, everyone," he called, "partner up and attempt the first hold, please." He released Minerva. "Thank you, Miss McGonagall."
She murmured some pleasantry -she wasn't quite sure what she had said, if she were honest with herself- and walked back to her friends.
"I feel bad for you, Min," Charlotte said sympathetically. "It couldn't have been easy having to do that. And we all know you hate to dance."
"Yes, well, duty calls," Minerva replied, not unkindly. "Michael, I suppose we better practice."
"I think after that showing, you definitely need to practice," Aidan snorted, walking into the practice area with Charlotte. "Charm your shoes, mate!"
"I'll make this easy for you," Michael promised her as he took her hand and led her into position. "This time, it won't be so embarrassing."
"We can only hope," Minerva muttered. She took his hands firmly. "Now, this one goes here," she placed his right hand on her shoulder, "and this one holds mine." His left hand clasped hers. She kept them still for a moment, waiting to feel the way she did when Albus had held her. To her fascination, Michael's hands felt merely ordinary.
"Can we dance now, Min? Or were you planning on continuing to inspect my hands?" Michael asked her, smiling.
"Yes, sorry." She shook her head clear and prepared to dance.
One week later, they were all practicing in the common room. Minerva was still not very good at the steps, not that it mattered. While Aidan had asked Charlotte to the dance almost immediately, Michael still hadn't asked her to be his date. She was getting rather annoyed, waiting for the axe to fall.
"Min, it's eight counts, then we switch holds, not sixteen," Michael rolled his eyes. "My feet can't take much more of this."
"Then perhaps you should have charmed your feet to not get hurt!" Minerva snapped. "Honestly, maybe if I had a different partner, this wouldn't be so bad!"
"Woah, woah, woah," Aidan stepped in, hands outstretched between the sparring pair. "Calm down, will you? Here, I'll dance with Min for a bit. Michael, go try with Charlotte."
Aidan picked Minerva's hands up and pressed them gently into place. "Are you ready, Min?"
"I don't see why I have to keep practicing," she sighed into his ear, begrudgingly moving in tandem with him. "This is ridiculous."
"Ridiculous or not, you do have to open the ball," Aidan reminded her. "And if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you want to excel at everything. Even if it is only a dance."
Minerva looked down at their gliding feet, in awe of how easy it seemed. "See, I don't seem to step on your feet. It's just him!"
Aidan sighed deeply and stopped dancing. He pulled Minerva off to an isolated couch in the far corner of the common room. "Okay, what's going on here?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," Aidan poked her arm, "that you seem to be on edge around Michael lately."
"I don't know what's going on," she shook her head, exasperated. "If I knew what was going on, I could try to fix it."
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you don't seem to be very happy around him anymore. It's very evident when you're dancing together that you'd rather be anywhere else. If you're going to dance with him at the ball, you really need to sort things out."
"We won't be dancing together at the ball," Minerva huffed. "He hasn't asked me."
"What?"
"Exactly," Minerva smirked, even though she didn't find the situation at all humorous. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a partner. I know that I have a tendency to be a little intimidating," she nudged Aidan as he grinned, "but, I would still prefer to be asked. This isn't the Slug Club ball from third-year, where I asked you because I needed help avoiding Riddle. I don't need help this time. I just..." she trailed off, her voice wavering. "I just want to be wanted."
"Min." Aidan looked deeply in her eyes, taking her by the shoulders. "He's mad for you. You have to know that."
"Yes, I do," Minerva bit her lip. "I know that, and I am thankful for it, but he can't just stop making an effort because I know that, if that makes sense."
"Yeah, I think it does." It was Aidan's turn to sigh, and he wrapped Minerva under his arm as he did so. "If it's any consolation, Char and I are a bit rocky at the moment as well."
"What happened?"
"Nothing so much happened as built up. It's been around two years, and I think we're growing apart. Char doesn't want me to go off to war anymore, not now that we're so close to graduating. I think she expects me to propose to her upon graduation, and then get married right away. "
"It's not a crime to be fearful of your loved ones going to war, Aidan," Minerva chided gently.
"No, it's not," Aidan agreed, "but you wouldn't stop me from going, would you?"
Minerva frowned, considering. "No, because you've always wanted to be an Auror. It's the only dream you've ever had. That job description just happens to include war at the moment."
"Exactly! You wouldn't hold me back!"
"Aidan, I'm also not in love with you with certain expectations after a two-year relationship," she pointed out.
"I know you," Aidan shook his head emphatically. "You would be mad at me and try to talk me out of it, but you wouldn't stop me."
Minerva stayed silent, not sure how to respond. "So, where do we go from here?"
"I don't really know, to be honest," Aidan laughed sadly. "I think we try to evaluate our relationships as best we can. Short of controlling them like puppets, that's all we can really do."
"I suppose that's true," Minerva said. "Remember, though: Charlotte loves you, even if it's not manifesting the way you want it to."
"I could say the same about Michael," Aidan replied, and Minerva was forced to concede the point. "Now that I've successfully extracted you from the hell that is ballroom dancing, don't you have your normal meeting with Dumbledore?"
Minerva looked at the clock. "No, it's a bit early yet."
"Go," Aidan nodded at Michael, who was spinning Charlotte around gracefully. "They won't notice for a while, and no one can get mad at you for going to a meeting."
"Thanks, Aidan," she squeezed his hand. "If I come back late, have a good night, okay?" She slowly got off the couch and walked out of the tower.
While approaching Albus' office, it occurred to Minerva that she hadn't been alone with him since they had danced together. Due to various meetings and duties on both their parts, this would be their first real extracurricular lesson together since the first task. Despite her best efforts, Minerva still hadn't discerned why she had reacted the way she had. She chalked it up to nerves, even if a niggling feeling in the back of her mind suggested otherwise.
"Knock knock," she called softly, pushing his door open. "I know I'm early, but I wasn't doing anything and thought we could get started early, if you're okay with it."
"I am most amenable to that," Albus grinned. "I am afraid I have been caught up doing correspondence all evening, and it's becoming rather repetitive."
Minerva smiled, falling easily into her chair and their comfortable patterns. "I can only imagine how boring that is for you. Here," she reached into her bag, "are your fifth-years' essays. They were much better than the last batch, but I still think you need to consider giving Flanagan remedial lessons. He clearly doesn't understand the nuances of Gamp's laws, and his extrapolations are far behind everyone else's."
"You sound like a professor already," Albus commented, recovering the essays from her. "I give it four years before you're after my job."
"I need you to give it up, first," Minerva teased. "Although, I suppose I could settle for Defence or Charms in the meantime - until you decide to become Headmaster."
Albus laughed heartily. "I have no desire to become Headmaster, Minerva."
"Albus, I hate to tell you this," Minerva informed him patiently, mirth in her eyes, "but as Deputy Headmaster, you are widely considered next in line for the job."
"There's too much paperwork involved and not enough interaction with students," Albus waved the suggestion off. "I rather enjoy actually teaching, you know."
"So teach someone how to replace you," Minerva's eyes widened wickedly. "Preferably me."
"I promise you that if I am ever Headmaster, you will be the first person I owl to interview for this position," Albus said sincerely. "If that happens, I will teach you to the best of my abilities. But please, don't hold your breath."
Minerva quirked an eyebrow. "You do realize that if you're Headmaster, you can just delegate your correspondence to your deputy? Much like Headmaster Dippet seems to do with you?"
Albus' mouth hung open slightly. "I couldn't do that to my deputy, not knowing how positively horrid it is."
"Make 'liking correspondence' a requirement for the post."
"Would you ever care to do it? You already do my marking for me. I'm sure you could handle a few Ministry letters."
"Albus, this is far more than a few letters," Minerva rolled her eyes, gesturing at his overflowing desktop. "I highly doubt that I would ever be considered as a deputy, but if that ever happens to be on the table while you're Headmaster, I promise I will give it due consideration."
"That is all I would ask," Albus smiled, head resting on his hands. "Now, how is the dancing coming along?"
Minerva groaned loudly. "It's not, and I'd thank you not to mention it. Can't we study instead? I brought my books all the way here from the tower, you know."
"I apologize for the inconvenience," Albus said, "but given that you are no doubt adequately prepared for everything but dancing at the moment, perhaps we should focus on that?"
Her heart quickened considerably. "No, Albus. No more dancing tonight."
"I assure you, only one of my toes was broken." He winked at her and stood, moving around to her side of his desk, hand extended towards her. "Will you do me the honour of dancing with me this evening?"
"Albus." Minerva tried to get out of it. "There's no music."
"I can easily fix that." Sure enough, he flicked his wand, and music began to flow from an old gramophone in the corner. He frowned when she didn't make any effort to get up. "Minerva, if you're worried about breaking my toe, that was only a joke."
Not seeing any way out of this, Minerva sighed, taking his hand. Much to her chagrin, the now-familiar shock ran through her body at his touch. "I really wish I didn't have to do this."
"I know, but practice makes perfect."
"Albus, perfect practice makes perfect. I'm hardly practicing well, let alone perfectly." Minerva's breath hitched when he spun her out and then back in, her free hand resting on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, and she thought she could feel it beating as rapidly as her own.
Albus coughed to get her attention. "I do require the use of your hand, Minerva."
"Oh, right." She blushed, forcing her hand away from his chest and into his expectant palm. "Sorry."
"No harm was done." He changed their hold, settling behind her. She closed her eyes, pretending that it was a dream and that nothing felt different than it had two weeks ago. He was Albus, and she was Minerva. He was her professor, and she was his student. They were friends. There was no need for her body to react the way it did. Eventually, Albus' words disrupted her thoughts. "Minerva, the music has ended."
"Really?" Minerva opened her eyes, blinking in adjustment to the light. He released her, and she spun around to face him. "Did I step on you?"
"No, you didn't, much to my surprise," Albus said playfully. "You seemed to fall right into step, once you let the music rush over you. You truly are a skillful dancer."
"Oh no," Minerva's braid swung side to side as she shook her head emphatically. "No, it's you that makes me look good. Without a good partner, I'm hopeless."
"Let's hope your dance partner is worthy of your skill." Albus began to smile, stopping himself when he realized that Minerva's mood had suddenly shifted. "Minerva?"
"I don't have a partner, Albus," she sighed. "I fear that I will be the laughingstock of the ball."
His eyes narrowed, and Minerva thought she sensed displeasure within them. "I had rather thought that Mr. Rosin would have asked you by now."
"You and me both. As it currently stands, though, I do not have a partner." Her eyes widened as something occurred to her. While she didn't understand her body's reaction to Albus' close proximity while dancing, her curiosity was piqued.
And curiosity killed the cat.
"Albus, if I don't have a partner, will you dance with me?"
His face blushed a deeper red than the Gryffindor scarlet. "Minerva, I hardly think it's appropriate. It's one thing to dance with you for instructional purposes, but it's quite another to open the Yule Ball with you. It's meant for the Champions and their dates, not their professors."
"So you'd rather have me dance alone, like this?" Minerva challenged, holding up her arms as though she were waltzing with someone under an invisibility cloak.
Albus glared at her. "No, of course not."
"So?"
Her emerald eyes met his sapphire orbs. She couldn't look away, not that her pride would let her be the first to break the challenge. For the first time, though, she noticed something in his eyes that drew her in, making it impossible to look away. Minerva was almost positive that Albus was under the same spell. Eventually, he lowered his chin, eyes flickering to the door before catching her in their sights once more.
"I will open the dance with you, but only if you have truly tried to find another partner. And I mean legitimately attempted, Minerva."
Her heart hammered. "When have I ever given a task anything but my all?"
"You're very conscientious, Minerva, as you are no doubt aware. And now that you've succeeded at extracting that deal out of me, you should head back to Gryffindor Tower. It's getting late, and you have a date to procure."
"Oh, spoilsport," Minerva rolled her eyes cheekily, bidding him goodnight before heading back to her room. Her plan was risky, even for her, but she had to know more about the reaction he elicited from her. It was subsequently with great disappointment that she walked through the portrait-way to find Michael waiting up for her.
"Old habits die hard, it seems," Minerva commented drily. "Would I be correct in presuming that you're waiting for me?"
"Min, Aidan talked some sense into me," Michael began, "and I really am sorry."
"And why would you have reason to be sorry?" She wasn't going to make this easy on him. Oh, no, she was going to make him grovel.
"Because I didn't ask you to go to the dance." Michael's brow creased. "We kept practising, but I never actually asked you."
"You think I'm mad because you didn't ask me to the dance?"
"Aren't you?"
"Well, yes," Minerva admitted hotly, "but that's not the only reason. I'm mad because it's almost like you just assumed we'd be going together. Like you didn't have to bother asking because no one else ever would."
"Min, I would never think that," he protested.
"I'm telling you how you made me feel, and you'd do well to listen," she snapped. "I just wanted to be asked to the ball, that's all. Not made to feel like your tag-along. Or, like you'd rather go with someone else, and if that's the case, please let me know now."
"I didn't want to be presumptuous! I thought since you are the champion who has to open the ball, that you would want to ask me. I didn't want you to think that I was, I don't know, stealing your spotlight or something."
"Michael, of course I wanted to be asked."
"Would you still go with me now? If I asked?" Michael asked her hesitantly. "It would be an honour to dance beside you."
"Even if all I do is step on your feet all night?"
He grimaced but kept a determined look on his face. "I think I probably deserve that, at this point."
"I am inclined to concur," Minerva responded. She waited, and when no question was forthcoming, she sighed deeply. "Are you going to ask me or not?"
"Oh, right, sorry," he winced. "Minerva, would you go to the Yule Ball with me?"
She stopped herself from rolling her eyes skyward. As irritated as she was with Michael, and as much as she wished to dance with Albus again, there was really no good excuse she could give for saying no to her boyfriend. "Yes, I'd love to."
At long last, Christmas Day was upon them. The day had been a flurry of activity. There was the traditional Christmas breakfast, an even better Christmas lunch, and then a ridiculous amount of wrapping paper to clean after every student had opened their presents in the tower. Typically, only a few students stayed behind, but the castle was packed full in anticipation of the ball, especially given the inclusion of their foreign guests. Minerva had permitted herself to get swept away in the excitement; Callum and Lucy were coming for the dance, and Lucy was helping her get ready, like she had for the Slug Club party. This time, Charlotte was joining them, and Minerva would happily admit it was much more fun with both of them. It felt like the group of girlfriends that she had always secretly wanted but had never quite managed to have.
"Charlotte, you're stunning," Lucy beamed, her engagement ring catching the light as she clapped her hands. "I knew you'd look great with your hair like that."
Charlotte's hair was pulled into what Lucy had called the "beach-waver," her hair swooped up in the front and curled around her shoulders. Her rose-coloured dress fell around her in waves, the crinoline following her every move. "Thanks, Lucy. You're great with this stuff, truly. If only Min would come out from behind the curtain, we'd be able to say the same about her!"
Minerva was hiding behind the security of the curtains around her bed. Lucy had already finished her hair and make-up, but she had insisted on changing into the dress in private. She had wanted to try on a blue dress, but the other girls had insisted that she pick green to bring out her eyes. Admittedly, the dress seemed to match her eyes almost precisely and brought out a sparkle in them that she had never seen before. "Okay, okay, I'm coming out!"
Her face split into a wide smile when both Lucy and Charlotte's jaws dropped. It was Charlotte who spoke first. "Min, you look incredible."
"It's not too much, is it? With the slit and everything?"
"Oh, no," Lucy smiled, "definitely not."
"Good," Minerva nodded decisively. "I really do like this dress."
"You should," Lucy said. "It's funny; I feel very old sitting here now when it seems like just yesterday we were talking about kissing boys before your first Slug Club party."
Charlotte's eyes shone. "I bet Michael will want to do more than that when he sees you in that dress."
Lucy shrieked with laughter as Minerva pelted Charlotte with a pillow. "I'll get you for that, Creevey!"
"Oh shush," Charlotte replied breathlessly, "you know you won't."
Minerva glared at her friend before restoring her pillow to its proper place. "No, I won't." She looked between her friends, hesitating. There was something she wanted to ask them, but she wasn't sure how to phrase it. "I think I need to ask you for advice, but it'll sound weird."
"Not to us," Lucy promised. "What's going on?"
"Have either of you ever felt something you shouldn't have for someone that you shouldn't have?" Minerva asked.
"I don't get it," Charlotte searched her face, confused. "What are you asking?"
"I, um," Minerva huffed, deciding on a new tactic. "How do you know you're really in love?"
Lucy beamed, "That's a question I can handle. You feel different when you're around them, almost as though they set your soul on fire. You don't have to act a certain way when you're around them. It's like you can be completely open and honest and raw. They make you want to be a better person and encourage you to try things outside your comfort zone. You want to spend all of your time with them. As cliché as it sounds, when you know, you know. You also know when it's not right, too." Lucy paused, looking at Minerva. "Are you trying to figure out if you love Michael?"
"Well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose I am," Minerva answered slowly. If, she thought, it was okay to deduce that you didn't love your boyfriend by exploring feelings for your professor.
"Wait. You asked about someone that you shouldn't have feelings for," Charlotte said suddenly. "You're feeling these things, but not for Michael?"
"I'm not sure what's going on at the moment," Minerva explained. "Michael is comfortable and nice and smart, and he loves me, but I don't feel anything special when he touches me. The other day, though," her mind quickly thought of a plausible, un-embarrassing explanation, "my hand brushed someone else's, and it was like a shock ran through me."
"Ah," Lucy nodded appraisingly. "Yeah, that physical reaction doesn't automatically mean you love them. It just means physical attraction, kind of like a raw magnetism. If you don't have that with Michael, that's probably not a good sign. However, feeling that with someone else doesn't mean you should dump him, either. Physical attraction can be fleeting. You only need to change your situation if it keeps happening or if you're fixating on it."
"Or," Charlotte cut in, "if you feel that plus all those symptoms of love that Lucy mentioned. If you feel both of those, then you're really, truly in love. You'll figure it out, Min. Give yourself room to breathe." Charlotte hugged her and then stood up. "We best get a move on, ladies! We're well past fashionably late at this point."
Minerva paused, her mind racing. She definitely was physically attracted to Albus, as much as it pained her to admit it. In the past, she had always thought her classmates naive whenever they had expressed affection for one of their teachers. Now, she was eating crow, finally understanding the appeal of an authority figure. It was more than that, though, Minerva discerned. No, it was the fact that she was happiest whenever he was around. That he made her feel safe and protected, even while challenging her. He believed in her own capabilities, and she wanted to prove him right almost as much as she wanted the success for herself. And, if her new boggart was some sort of unit of measurement, she couldn't imagine her life without him. Given what she now knew about how she felt, and if Lucy and Charlotte were correct, Minerva had no choice but to concede that she had fallen in love with Albus Dumbledore. That was almost a more terrifying prospect than the dancing. She couldn't exactly ask her professor on a date, could she? And what would he do if he ever found out, stop their sessions? Minerva couldn't even fathom his reaction, or more worryingly, how it would make her feel. Swallowing that thought down her suddenly dry throat, she followed her friends to go meet her date.
Sweeping her eyes around the Great Hall, Minerva nervously prepared herself to open the ball. It didn't help that Riddle was there with his date, smirking at her like he was king of the castle, and she was merely Cinderella.
"It's okay, Min," Michael murmured into her ear, pulling her into position. "We'll be fine. It's a three-minute dance."
"Two minutes and forty-seven seconds, to be precise," Minerva whispered back. She heard the music start, and it took everything in her not to cringe. "Ready?"
"Here we go," Michael said, stepping towards her. She closed her eyes, trying to immerse herself in the feel of the music. To Minerva's utter relief, she only stepped on his toes twice, and neither time was so severe as to cause a stumble. He pressed his lips against her forehead. "We did it."
"Thank Merlin," Minerva breathed. "Can you get me some punch?" He nodded and walked off.
"Well, Minnie, you sure clean up nice," Callum's voice could be heard behind her. "Do you fancy a dance with your big brother?"
"Of course I do," Minerva smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him into formation. "At what age do you think you'll stop calling me by that detested nickname?"
"Oh, never," Callum grinned, leading her across the dance floor. "I think even our kids will call you 'Aunt Minnie,' just to spite you."
"Callum Robert McGonagall, you wouldn't dare encourage such behaviour!" Minerva admonished him, stepping firmly on his toes threateningly.
"Christ, you really sound like Ma when you do that," Callum shook his head, spinning her hard in retaliation. "Nah, give it eight months, and you'll have to get your name officially changed."
"What do you mean, eight months?" Minerva's mouth gaped open. "Is Lucy pregnant?"
"Yup," Callum's proud smile grew even wider. "It's really new; she's only a month along. You're the only one who knows. We'll have to get married in secret over the next couple of days. With Dad being a minister, and her parents being pureblooded purists, a baby out of wedlock would not go over very well at all."
"When are you getting married? Can I come?" Minerva asked, hopefully.
"I wish you could, Minnie, but I need you to have plausible deniability," Callum told her gently. "No one can know. We're not even doing that fancy ceremony for her parents. My partner in the Auror department is certified to preside over marriages, so he'll do it for us privately tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I know, it's soon," he said ruefully. "But we have to make it look like this baby could have been conceived after a wedding, you know?"
"I wish that I didn't," Minerva shuddered. This was not a conversation she needed to have with her brother. "When will you tell everyone else?"
"Probably by letter after New Year's Day, so no one can try to make us get together for the holidays," Callum confessed. "We'll tell them and then pretend to be on a honeymoon or something."
"I do not envy you," she sighed. "But I am so, so happy for you."
"We're happy, too-" Callum was cut off by Albus tapping on his shoulder. "How can I help you, Professor?"
"Well, it appears that all of the champions are dancing with professors." He nodded to where Riddle was twirling Dubois -bad company begets bad company, Minerva thought- and where Élodie had wrapped herself around a very unhappy Torin, who appeared to be reluctantly shuffling his feet. Vlad was expertly dancing with Professor Johnson. "We have four champions this year, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me as opposed to one of my foreign counterparts, Miss McGonagall. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to dance with the Headmaster."
"I feel better if she's with you," Callum muttered. "Minnie, I'll see you later. Thanks for the dance. Professor," he nodded respectfully and headed over to Lucy.
"Seems you'll have to dance with me after all," Albus commented, bowing before taking her hand. "I am happy that you managed to patch things up with Mr. Rosin. I was worried I'd have to open the ball."
"Be thankful that you didn't," Minerva laughed, noting that her body still felt on fire when she was in his arms. Yup, she was attracted to him. No chance of denying that anymore. "I only stepped on his feet twice, though, so it couldn't have been too bad for him."
"That must have been good practice because you're yet to step on mine tonight," Albus commented teasingly.
"Like I said, the partner makes all the difference in the world." Minerva looked into his eyes as the music hit its crescendo, fading slowly as it concluded. "Thank you for the dance, Professor."
He stared at her. "The pleasure was mine, Miss McGonagall." Then, looking as though he were working up the nerve, he took her hand again and brushed his lips against her knuckles gently. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."
Enjoy the rest of my evening? Minerva mused, aghast, as he walked away from her. Her hand was shooting fireworks to every nerve ending in her body, and it hit her that she would like to do nothing more than push her professor up against a wall and kiss him to death.
"Min, here's your punch," Michael walked up behind her, handing her a drink. "Sorry I took so long; I didn't want to interrupt your dances."
"No, it's fine. Thank you." Minerva shook her head, looking clearly at him. This was a boy whose love for her was evident, who was attractive and who was very, very kind. She sipped her drink slowly, eyeing him over the glass.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked her, bemused. "C'mon, let's go sit down." She let him lead her over to a table, still staring. "Seriously, do I have an owl on my head or something?"
Minerva laughed breathily. "No, you don't have an owl-" She stopped suddenly, looking up. "No owl, but there is mistletoe above you. It looks like we're trapped."
"Indeed it does," Michael smiled, leaning in to kiss her. Minerva made the split decision to pour her every emotion into the kiss. She took charge, her tongue battling with his. He groaned as she eventually pulled away, resting her forehead against his.
Michael was breathless. "You've never kissed me like that before."
"I've never felt like this before," Minerva said, her heart squeezing only slightly when his eyes lit up. She wasn't feeling this way for him, per se, and she would most likely feel bad about misleading him in the morning.
Not tonight, though. For the first time in her life, Minerva was lustful, and she was going to act on it, consequences be damned.
"Min...what do you say we get out of here?" Michael asked her lowly, still pressing their heads together.
"I'd like that very much," she murmured, and they stood up together quickly as soon as she had spoken. They exited the Great Hall, and once the magnificent doors were out of sight, they ran down the corridors, hand in hand.
They found an old, empty closet, and they rushed into it, laughing quietly as they shut the door. There was no movement for a moment as Minerva thought about what was happening. So what, if she were acting like the lawless students that couldn't keep their clothes on? So what, if she had a very juvenile crush with very genuine feelings for her professor? She wanted more, and Michael was willing to give it to her.
Their lips crashed together, an intensity flowing into their actions as he grabbed her head forcefully. His tongue was moving in sync with hers; they were exploring each other's mouths as though they would never kiss again. Needing more, Minerva undid the clasp of his outer robes, letting them fall to the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck and one leg around his hips, pulling him closer. Michel groaned into her mouth and pulled his head back slightly, breathing heavily on her neck.
"Minerva," Michael whispered reverently, and for a second, she hated that he thought the passion in her eyes was for him. He released her head and ran one hand up the slit on her dress, tickling her thigh delicately. Keeping that hand there, he used his free hand to rip the neckline of her dress, allowing him unimpeded access to her neck. Michael pressed firm yet light kisses along her neck, and Minerva stifled a moan. She was becoming the very type of student that made her life a living hell, and yet she couldn't bring herself to care, not when she could pretend it was Albus' mouth on her collarbone.
She let herself believe it was Albus who was turning her neck to give himself more room. When she closed her eyes, she could imagine Albus' beard tickling her décolletage as he kissed her neck and behind her ear. It was Albus' hand, not Michael's, that was now resting on her hip, fingertips gently pressing against her stomach. It was Albus whimpering her name as she ran her fingers down his back. It was Albus whose hand was pressing against her bra, and when he nipped at her ear, she couldn't contain herself anymore.
"Ohhhhh, Albus," Minerva moaned loudly, opening her eyes for the first time in minutes. She froze in horror as she caught sight of Albus -the real Albus- opening the door, those magnificently sapphire eyes furiously taking in the scene before him.