A/N: Thank you for reading!

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Twenty-One: December 1943, Pt. II

Time had stopped for Minerva. She was pressed between Michael and the closet wall, unable to move. Her hair was tousled, and she could feel the spots on her collarbone where she would later bear marks. She could only look at Albus in silent horror, her lips still frozen open after saying his name. Minerva watched Albus react in slow motion, her eyes stuck on him as his gaze swept over the closet, his fury evident. She winced as he took in Michael's discarded robes, and she swallowed hard when his eyes narrowed at the sight of Michael's hand up her dress. Finally, his eyes slowly moved up her body to meet her own. Minerva could feel his anger and disappointment crackling in the air.

Michael stopped his ministrations on her neck and turned around as best as he could manage, what with her leg still wrapped around his hips. "'Albus?' Why would you...oh, hi, Professor. Lovely night, isn't it?"

Minerva looked at Michael's embarrassed yet proud smirk and wanted to curse him six ways from Sunday. She couldn't understand how he could feel pride in being caught in a state of undress -in a closet, no less- by their professor. This was an incredibly awkward situation, and the obvious method of recourse was to show remorse. Minerva knew at that moment that if her feelings for Albus weren't enough justification, Michael's reaction just now was sufficient for her to end things. She was horrified, and the fact that he was almost boastful led her to discover another reason why she found Albus attractive: he was more mature and not so insecure as to be unnecessarily showy. This inevitable conversation with Michael would surely only be one of many difficult conversations she'd be having, if the look on Albus' face was anything to go by.

Albus finally spoke, and when he did, he ignored Michael's attempt at pleasantries. "I do apologize for the intrusion," he said coldly, "but I need to borrow Miss McGonagall. You see, all of the champions are taking a picture for the Daily Prophet, and you were the only one who had already left the ball. We were worried something had upset you. Clearly, we misjudged the situation."

Minerva's skin reddened in a mix of embarrassment and indignation. "Thank you all for your worry and for coming to find me. If everyone is waiting on me for the picture, we had best get on with it, no?" She carefully extracted her leg from around Michael's body and firmly pushed him away, pulling her dress into place with as much dignity as she could muster. Feeling two sets of eyes on her, Minerva ran shaky hands down her front, smoothing out a crease in her dress. Without looking at either man, she stepped around them both and walked into the Hall. Behind her, she heard Albus ask Michael to reclothe himself and return to the Great Hall. Wincing, she felt tears burn her eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. Of course, the one time that she chose to bend the rules, she was caught. Not only was she caught in the act, but Albus had been the one to find her. Wanting nothing more than something easy on which she could fixate, Minerva walked briskly in the direction of the ball.

"Miss McGonagall," Albus called, strolling up to her. When she didn't stop, he repeated himself. "Miss McGonagall, please wait." She could hear his footsteps, and she knew that his six-foot-plus frame would easily catch her.

Sighing, Minerva halted herself firmly, her body obviously tense. Albus reached her and breathed deeply, drawing her attention. She could sense his anger shift slightly as he caught sight of the lone tear tracking down her cheek. He waved his wand, and the rip in her gown disappeared. Almost like the night had never happened.

"Thank you for that," Minerva said quietly, continuing to walk. "I had forgotten about it."

"You were otherwise occupied, no doubt." Albus' voice was uncharacteristically snide. He paused as they reached the doors, facing her again. "I think it best if we have a chat after you take this picture, if that suits you."

"I believe that's the best idea you've had in six years." Minerva met his gaze bravely, her eyes determined. "Given what you just witnessed -what you heard-, I'm sure you want an explanation."

"I don't believe I need an explanation, Miss McGonagall. The situation was quite self-explanatory."

"No, you don't need one," Minerva pursed her lips, "but in my opinion, you deserve one." She didn't give him a chance to retort, instead choosing to glide across the Hall to join her fellow champions. The walk gave her a chance to compose herself; this was not the time to be off her game. She let a sense of dignity wash over her, and she nodded kindly at the students and staff by whom she passed.

"I am sorry for the delay," Minerva apologized to the group. "I appreciate you sending Professor Dumbledore after me."

"It's no trouble, Miss McGonagall!" Dippet waved a hand in her general direction. He had clearly enjoyed more than his fair share of the spiked punch. "We were all just enjoying each other's company! Now, come, stand here in front of me, beside Mr. Riddle."

Minerva nodded and started to move, but Madame Dubois seized her shoulder as she walked. The elder witch bent down to her ear. "Quelle salope, hmmm? Et les Britanniques dites que les français ont les mœurs légères." She released her suddenly, stroking Minerva's hair. Speaking loudly, Madame Dubois said, "We can't have you taking a picture with your hair tousled, n'est-ce pas?"

Minerva stared at the woman before her. She was almost certain the woman had just called her a whore, all the while appearing to take a kind interest in her. Madame Dubois was masterful at deception, and Minerva hated that she had to worry about the possibility of a vendetta led by the Frenchwoman. "Merci, madame." Minerva pushed by Madame Dubois and took her spot beside Riddle. Feeling a rush of protection flow through her, she looked up to see Albus' narrowed gaze upon her.

"He can't stop looking at you, can he?" Riddle murmured into her ear. "You've really got yourself into a predicament here, McGonagall. He looks like he'd kill for you to take him back to Gryffindor Tower and have your wicked way with him."

Minerva's cheeks flushed. If only Riddle knew the situation was reversed and that she'd kill for Albus to have his way with her. Instead, she clucked her tongue in admonishment. "Riddle, it does not do to dwell in ridiculous alternate realities. Remember that."

"Smile!" The photographer called, and Minerva forced her lips as upwards as she could manage. The flash went off, and she blinked. "Thank you, everyone!"

"Everyone, go and enjoy the rest of the festivities!" Dippet exclaimed happily. "Madame Dubois, have you met our choirmaster yet? I believe he's from one of the French colonies..."

Minerva didn't exchange pleasantries with anyone. Instead, she made her way silently back to Albus, waiting for him to speak once she had arrived.

"Would you care to accompany me back to my office, or do you have unfinished business here?"

Minerva swept her eyes over the hall, committing the decorations to memory. No matter what the night had turned into, it was, after all, still her first ball. "I'm fine to leave, thank you."

They walked in tandem to his office, the tension between them sizzling. Minerva contemplated the irrefutable fact that their relationship had changed in the blink of an eye. Maybe it wasn't in the blink of an eye, though. Minerva considered her boggart, and she realized that she may have been harbouring these feelings for longer than she had thought. He had most likely heard her exclamation -indeed, there wasn't a way that he hadn't- and Albus was surely intelligent enough to deduce that she had feelings for him. Minerva had no idea what his reaction would be, but she would own it and chase what she wanted like the Gryffindor she was. While their relationship had necessarily and properly stemmed from a friendly, professional place, it had clearly developed into something on which they both relied. Regardless of what Albus would say in his office, she knew that he cared for her; at the very least, he was invested in her personally. So, Minerva told herself, she would gauge the situation and hope that what he felt was something remotely similar to her own feelings. Once they reached the door, Albus held it open for her to enter first. Her hand brushed against his robes as she entered, and she inhaled sharply at the contact. She heard him ward the door behind them as he closed it. No doubt this was not a conversation that he desired to have heard bouncing around Hogwarts' echoing halls, particularly on a night when reporters were roaming the castle. Despite her earlier behaviour to the contrary, Minerva was glad for the discretion.

To keep her emotions at bay, she knew she needed to control the situation. "Should we order tea, Albus?" Minerva inquired brusquely, sitting down in her habitual spot.

He looked at her quizzically, circling his desk. "We can order tea, if you wish."

"Well, I would only deign to bother Jilly if I thought I'd be here long enough to actually enjoy the cup." Minerva raised an eyebrow at him, meeting his eyes. "If you're going to throw me out of here in two minutes after a firm tongue-lashing, then I won't bother the poor elf."

"I won't throw you out, Miss McGonagall," Albus stated softly. "Jilly?" He smiled at his loyal elf when she popped into view. "The usual tea setting for us, please." She nodded and disappeared, and the tea set appeared in her stead.

Minerva accepted the tea he handed her, noticing the way he carefully avoided any physical contact with her. She blew on the tea before sighing, well aware of the fact that she would have to be the one to break their détente. "I owe you a huge apology, Albus. It was completely unacceptable for me as Head Girl to set that sort of example and be caught engaging in that type of behaviour. I apologize resolutely, and I promise it won't happen again."

"I dare say we've had Head Girls and Boys who have done far worse," Albus spoke, his voice far away. "I remember when I was Head Boy, I was thrown out of my Potions professor's store cupboard..." his voice trailed. "No, I can't strip you of the badge over tonight's incident. That wouldn't be fair. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind."

"Yes, well," a ghost of a smile played on Minerva's lips. "Even so, I expect better of myself." She inhaled deeply, ready to bite the bullet. "And I am sorry for what I said."

She looked at him expectantly until he responded. "I heard you," he swallowed somewhat uncomfortably, "say my name whilst you were in a rather passionate embrace with Mr. Rosin."

"I believed you had heard that. In fact, I rather thought that's why you wanted to talk to me," Minerva admitted.

"Ah," Albus clucked his tongue. "I was more so afraid that I had caused you emotional distress. You seemed upset..." His voice faded, clearly inferring from her direct approach that she was not significantly wounded. "I'm afraid I don't quite know how to handle this conversation, Miss McGonagall."

Her gaze hardened, and she felt a familiar indignation rise within her. "Do you realize that you have a horrible tendency to refer to me by my last name whenever we are in an uncomfortable situation? You are capable of having this conversation in our normal familiarity, certainly?"

"Of course I am capable," Albus snapped. "It simply gives me pause to call you by your name when it strikes me that we may have crossed some boundary that cannot be uncrossed!"

"And what boundary would that be?" She crossed her arms defiantly. "I can think of a few occasions where there has been awkwardness between us, Albus. Where we've crossed some borderline. Changing how you address me does not change the situation."

"Well." He was bested and had no response. Looking at her nervously, Albus asked tentatively, "Why would my name slip off your tongue?"

He was offering her an out, and she knew it. This was her chance to blame it on seeing him open the door, or a simple mental slip that had led her to gasp out the name of someone with whom she spent copious amounts of time. Albus would gladly accept either option as truth, and she knew he was waiting to see which option she would choose, ready to put this event behind them.

Unfortunately for him, she never could lie to him. "I believe I'm in love with you, Albus."

She could see him struggle to produce a dignified response. "I, well, um," Albus stuttered. "This is a horrible time for that."

"I'm sorry if this isn't the right time. Would you have preferred I had waited until Valentine's Day?" Her acerbic wit sliced through his weak words.

"More like until after your graduation," he muttered, not realizing he had spoken aloud. Minerva's eyes widened at his words, but he was too far away, too ensnared by his own thoughts, to notice. "I'm very...flattered that you believe yourself to be in love with me, but-"

"Albus, I don't believe myself to be in love with you. I know it."

"And how do you know this?"

"I spoke with Charlotte and Lucy, and they confirmed things for me," Minerva said defiantly, jutting her chin out slightly. "Before you worry yourself too much, I didn't tell them that you were the man in question. And before you deem them too young to know the difference between love and a crush, I know it because I intrinsically feel it. They just summed it up far more eloquently than I ever could."

He met her eyes quickly over their teacups before tearing his gaze away. "What do you mean, you feel it?"

Minerva bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. He had always preferred exactitudes. "You're going to want the whole truth, so I propose that I just tell you the entire story in one breath, and then you can pepper me with all of the questions that you'll no doubt deserve to ask."

Albus nodded, acquiescing. "That's certainly a good place to start."

Minerva wrung her hands out, slowly tensing and relaxing her fingers in an evident effort to calm herself. She had always been decisive and direct, and tonight she needed her modus operandi to serve her well. "If I'm honest, I may have been in love with you for a while. I don't know that with one hundred percent certainty, and you haven't done anything improper, but I cannot deny that I have always felt safest with you over the past year. I have always felt the most at ease, the most myself, with you. I never thought anything of it. I never had reason to.

"I believe the tournament to be the catalyst of," she paused, searching for the right term, "my change in feelings. I was so worried when I thought you would be disappointed in my decision to enter. I desperately craved your approval, even though my mind was made up. When the Goblet pulled my name, and you offered to help me, I felt safe. I felt safe again when you came into the tent before the first task. In some small way, I realized I always feel protected when I'm with you. Everyone else assumes I don't need protection, that I can do everything on my own. And while they're probably right," Minerva snorted humourlessly, "sometimes I just need someone to help me pick up the pieces. To help me when things go wrong, even if they disagreed with my decision. To look out for me and actually protect me in the way that I need to be protected."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Minerva had never declared her love for someone before, and she needed a moment to appreciate the gravity of what she had just admitted. Knowing Albus, he would also need time to digest the information. His thoughts were practically visible, whirring around his head.

He eventually looked at her almost stupidly, if Albus Dumbledore were ever capable of looking less than brilliant. "I am delighted that you feel safe-"

"Albus, I'm not finished yet." She smiled gently at him, and she could sense now that the power was shifting slowly from him to herself. "The big, flashing sign was my boggart."

"Your boggart?" Albus' voice was hoarse, and when he saw his teacup was empty, he poured some more. "What was it?"

"It was you. You were..." Minerva's voice faded, and she closed her eyes against the haunting memory. "I'm sorry, Albus, it's still hard to talk about. It gave me nightmares for weeks."

He wordlessly handed her a handkerchief. "Take your time, my dear."

Minerva internally smiled at the term of endearment before continuing. "You were dying, and in the most horrific of ways," she shuddered. "Your hands were dark, almost like you were infected with dark magic, and blood was seeping out of your eyes. You talked to me, made it seem like it was my fault for once suggesting that you go to war."

"I hope you realize that if anything were to ever happen to me while at war, it would never be your fault."

"I know that, but it's another thing to accept it. Oh, you looked ever so awful." She took a deep breath, exhaling the pain away. "In any event, the important point to note here is that my biggest fear had changed from my family dying to you dying. That's not an insignificant change, Albus."

"No, I daresay it's not." Albus was ghostly pale. "I feel horrible for having spoken to you about the war. That was perhaps an oversight on my part. I shouldn't have involved you so much in my affairs. I am sorry." He shook his head from side to side, ruminating over his mistakes. "So, it was the boggart that changed how you saw me?"

Minerva laughed ruefully, "That was merely something I thought about on the way up here. No, it was the dancing. I've never felt that way before. My body reacted to your touch, almost chemically. I had butterflies, my heart was erratic, and my whole body was on fire in your arms. Truthfully, it was our dance tonight that caused me to...lose my head, let's say."

Albus' cheeks were flushed. "You're saying that you wanted..."

"Yes, Albus, I wanted you. I wanted you, and I wanted it to be you with me in that closet." Minerva reached her hand out to grab his as she had done so many times before, but he recoiled slightly, and she thought better of it, pulling back quickly. "I am so, so sorry for how uncomfortable that must be to hear."

"On the contrary, it is a very nice thing to hear," Albus spoke softly. "I don't often receive professions of love, especially one so eloquent."

Her breath caught, and she allowed herself her first real smile in what felt like hours. "I am very happy to hear that."

"Miss McGonagall, please don't mistake my appreciation for a reciprocation of feelings." Albus closed his eyes, and she understood it was a way of protecting himself from seeing the way her face fell at his words.

"That was unnecessarily blunt, Albus." There was an edge in Minerva's voice. "If you don't feel something for me, there's no need to push me off the plank. It would have been enough to lead me to it; I could have made the jump without your help."

"Feelings aren't the problem, Minerva, it's propriety!" Albus smashed his teacup against his desk, losing control. "Take all matters of the heart aside, pretend they don't exist. What exactly do you think the consequences of a relationship would be if people caught wind of it? Not only for myself, but for you? Merlin knows if the Minister would let you finish your education, let alone ever return to teach!"

Minerva would have rolled her eyes if his emotional outburst hadn't given her hope. "Albus, I highly doubt the Minister would interfere with Hogwarts' activities so much as to care about a professor courting a graduating student who is well past legal age."

"Now we're discussing courting? After I just told you why that's a dangerous idea?"

"Albus, please. I'm not stupid. You may not be in love, but you feel something. I know it. It's in the air between us. If anything, you hate unsolved mysteries, remember? And right now, you don't know what to make of your feelings for me. I'm an unknown." Minerva was being as brazen as she dared, desperately hoping she was drawing the right conclusions. She didn't break his gaze as he stared at her.

"My dear, you're being deliberately obtuse. The impropriety of a professor-student relationship, one with a significant power-dynamic issue, would of course draw the attention of the Minister. We are a publicly-funded institution, and the Minister would not take kindly to members of the staff engaging in inappropriate acts with the students here. The press would have a field day. And before you tell me that we'd have to get caught for that to happen, perhaps you need a reminder that I am thirty-five years older than you?"

She shrugged dismissively, having anticipated the argument. "To quote the American muggle Mr. Twain, 'age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.' I don't quite care, Albus. Magical folk age more slowly than muggles do, and I believe that it is your age that makes you who you are. It is why you handle situations the way you do; it informs the very way you interact with me. I would never want to change that."

Albus' Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He was clearly mulling something over. "What would your friends think of you dating an older man?"

She didn't show her shock at his vulnerable question. "If they loved me, they'd accept it," Minerva said firmly. "Besides, Riddle already thinks something is going on between us. It's not completely out of the realm of possibilities."

He choked on the air. "What do you mean, Mr. Riddle thinks that our relationship is a romantic one?"

Minerva wasn't put off by the fury in his voice. "Riddle has made some remarks to me over the past few months indicating that he thinks we are engaged in an affair. He alluded to it again tonight at the ball when we took the photo. I believe he got the idea when you appeared in the Hospital Wing to save me from his onslaught."

"Does this not demonstrate to you," Albus explained with more patience than Minerva thought he was capable of, "exactly why it would be extremely irresponsible for us to act on any romantic feelings?"

Minerva was silent. She should have known that mentioning Riddle's name would be a sore spot. Albus' eyes were on her, undoubtedly expecting her to weave her way around his argument. Instead, she conceded the point. "It is a reason to refrain, yes. Although," she mused in afterthought, "he's bound to keep bringing it up once I break up with Michael, anyway. I didn't like how Michael reacted after you caught us, and besides, he's been overprotective lately. I wonder if I could ask him to alter his behaviour, but that's probably unfair-"

"Shouldn't this be a conversation you have with Mr. Rosin?" Albus interrupted, not wanting to hear her debate the aspects of her boyfriend's character.

"Well, yes," Minerva looked up suddenly. "The fact that I'm not rather proves my point. I have to break up with him now, knowing how I feel about you."

"Miss McGonagall, do not terminate that relationship because of feelings for me that would lead to little more than an affair shrouded in secrecy."

"Albus, surely you can understand that I don't want to lead Michael on more than I already have. I feel terrible about tonight. I used him, and that was wrong." Minerva hung her head shamefully. "No matter what happens here between us, to keep my relationship with him would only cause more hurt for both of us in the future."

"I can understand that," Albus replied gently. "All I mean to say is that what you have with him would be impossible with me, for so many reasons. He wants an open, real relationship with you, and that's a wonderful opportunity that is hard to overlook. Not everyone has the good fortune of being able to be open about who they love."

Minerva eyed him carefully, reading between the lines. She could practically hear herself saying "check" as she moved her queen into position, ready to strike. "You've never said you didn't want a relationship, Albus. You said that we couldn't have one. There is a difference."

"Quite." Minerva watched a plethora of emotions flicker across his face. Unquestionably, he was wrestling with the situation's propriety, but somehow, she was intrinsically aware that he desired her. All she could do was hope that his feelings for her were strong enough to quell whatever misgivings he may have.

She was disappointed.

"I believe it would be best if we cancelled your lessons." Clearly, Minerva was not yet good enough at chess.

For the first time, Minerva felt well and truly heartbroken. "Albus, there's no need to do that. We've been through a similar version of this before. Honestly, there's only a problem if we both act upon these feelings. It takes two to tango, as they say."

Albus closed his eyes. "In this case, it's best to create some distance between us. You have a lot going on in your life at the moment, and this isn't a line that we can afford to make any murkier than it already is."

"I understand, Albus." What Minerva understood was that he wanted her, but not enough to risk the consequences. As much as it killed her, the practical side of her could appreciate that. "What about the tournament? Will you still be able to help me?"

Their eyes met, and her heart sank at the sadness emanating from them. "I promised I would help you. What has happened tonight doesn't change the fact that I still very much want you to succeed. We'll need to change the delivery mode of our instruction, but I have no desire to leave you alone in this." He paused, and they both ruminated over the fact that that was most likely the problem. "I propose I help you via correspondence and that you do any practical preparations with Mr. Scrimgeour. He's a talented duelist; he'll ensure that you're well prepared."

"Is that all?" Minerva stood up. "I am sorry for what I said in the closet, truly. It was highly inappropriate. Trust me when I say that I'll make sure Michael thinks nothing of it. He'll believe me if I say I saw you just before I said it," she hesitated, looking him over. "I am sorry if I've changed the grounds of our friendship. I simply can't lie to you, and I couldn't hide it forever. Not when what I want feels so very right."

"Be careful about what you want from me. I don't often live up to the expectations of others. Even the bare minimum." Albus nodded towards the door, unwarding it with a wave. "Have a good rest of your night, Miss McGonagall. Sleep well."

Minerva left and closed the door behind her, desperately blinking back tears. How dare he caution her against wanting something from him. What she wanted was for him to call her by her given name. What she wanted was for him to take her in his arms, for him to love her, too. She could admit that perhaps these situations had varying degrees of likeliness, but now that she knew what she felt, she couldn't help but want her wishes to become a reality. Suddenly, Minerva heard something shatter within his office, and she quietly pranced off the door.

Thanking Merlin for small mercies, she found her way to her private room, a perk of being Head Girl. Its existence was a secret from the rest of the student body, and she hadn't had many occasions throughout the year to spend time in it. However, she had never before pictured her professor while kissing her boyfriend in an abandoned closet, and so she allowed herself to seek solace within the room. Minerva collapsed onto the couch, crying earnestly. It was well past midnight at this point, but the time was the least of her worries. After all, no one would bother to find her. She had indeed played the role of Cinderella, and her fantasy was over. Unlike the fairy tale, however, her prince wasn't going to come and save her.

Contemplating their conversation, Minerva went over every word choice, every flicker of emotion that she had felt from him. He hadn't outrightly denied any feelings for her; while he had tried to dissuade her from the notion, Albus hadn't clearly stated that he viewed her only as a student. Given his demonstrations of emotion, Minerva surmised that he did indeed harbour some romantic feelings for her. She released a strangled laugh just thinking about it. Albus liked clarity; he needed answers. And as much as he enjoyed getting answers, he wasn't wont to be very direct with others where his own emotions were concerned. No, he guarded himself like a Gringotts vault.

Minerva sighed and moved to the windowsill, resting her head against the frosty glass. Knowing she wouldn't get any further analyzing Albus, her mind turned to Michael. If she were honest with herself, it had been over between them for a while. Albus or not, Aidan had been right in his observations. She was on edge around Michael, and his acts of love were irritating her. On one particular evening, she had been annoyed to such an extent that she had spent time with the frivolous Divination professor as a means of avoiding him. Her tears dripped quietly onto her sleeve. It would hurt him so much for her to end it, and she hated being the cause of anyone's distress. Minerva transformed into her Animagus, allowing herself to rest comfortably on her perch. She didn't tend to dream while in cat form, and she desperately needed the rest.

New Year's Eve was upon them, and there was a small party in the Gryffindor common room. Minerva hadn't spoken much to Michael since the ball, and she could tell he was hurt by her avoidance. Aidan and Charlotte had wisely backed off, sensing something had shifted between the couple. This was how Minerva found herself sitting alone at the party, her hand tracing the rim of her glass of pumpkin juice.

"Min?" A tentative Poppy approached her. "Could I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course." Minerva gestured to the seat beside her. "What's going on?"

"Well, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind covering for me."

"Covering for you?" Minerva's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and an amused smile played on her lips. "And why would I do that?"

Poppy blushed. "I wanted to go see someone at midnight for, you know, the usual kiss, but I don't want anyone else to know."

Minerva smiled happily. "Of course, I'll cover for you. I'm honoured that you'd ask me. Go, I'll tell them you had to run off and help out in the Hospital Wing or something." Poppy had been apprenticing with Madam Prewett in anticipation of Medi-Witch training after school and could be found in the Hospital Wing more often than not. "Have fun, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Thanks, Min." Poppy beamed and kissed her friend on the crown of her head. "Make sure you have some fun yourself, okay?"

Minerva could only nod as she watched Poppy run through the portrait way. If only she could be so carefree. Then, she remembered how carefree had gotten her into this mess, and she downed her pumpkin juice.

"Minerva?" Michael came up behind her. "Can I sit down?"

"Yes."

He sat down, searching her eyes. "You know, I can't really figure out what happened. Obviously, what happened at the Yule Ball happened, but I don't know what I did to make you avoid me. This will be awkward," he hesitated, "but I need you to know I don't...blame you for saying what you said."

Minerva's jaw slackened. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you haven't talked to me about it yet." Michael ran his fingers through the back of his hair. "I mean, I'm not offended that you said his name. You spend a lot of time with him. I'm sure it just slipped out."

Her heart broke at his complete naïveté, and she found herself lying to protect the three of them in this little triangle, like she had promised Albus she would. "I am sorry, Michael. He opened the door, and it slipped out. I didn't mean to make it awkward."

"You didn't, and it's okay. Really. I wish you wouldn't avoid me because of it." Michael brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, and she cringed slightly. He pulled his hand back, hurt. "Unless you're avoiding me because of something else, of course."

"Michael..." Minerva tried to explain, knowing the moment was upon her. "I don't think we've been working, not for a long time. What happened that night helped me realize that."

"Ah, so it's one of those conversations," Michael sighed. "Talk me through your feelings?"

"I just, I don't know, I don't think we're well-suited," she struggled to find the words. "I think you're a wonderful boyfriend, honestly. You treat me well, and you're so caring and loving." She wrung her hands together. "I simply don't think you're the boyfriend for me. I need more space than you can give."

"Do you think we can work on it, or have you made your mind up already?" Michael asked quietly.

"I don't think it's fair for either of us to change who we are," Minerva said slowly. "You are so protective, and that's wonderful. But I'm independent. I need to process things alone without a keeper." She touched his hand, squeezing it gently. "I mean that in the nicest way possible. So many women need help solving the puzzle every step of the way. I, on the other hand, function best when someone helps support the puzzle I created. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," he exhaled, "it does. I like to be a part of the decision. I like to help, and I like to feel needed. You don't need anyone to help you make up your mind. Sometimes, you just need a push."

"Exactly, like help owling an uncomfortable letter, or helping me master a difficult skill. I don't need someone waiting up for me to make sure I get home okay." She winced at how sharp her words sounded. "That was harsh; I only mean that I need more from a relationship than protection."

"Unless there's a rogue bludger on the loose," he smiled wryly. "I'd wager you need protection then."

"Sometimes protection has its uses," Minerva conceded, looking him over. "I am sorry, Michael."

"Don't be. I appreciate the honesty," he sighed deeply. "If you ever need me, I'm here for you. For anything."

"I'm not that type of girl, Michael."

"I know," Michael released a shaky laugh. "It's part of why I love you."

Minerva felt tears brimming. "Michael, I am so, so sorry. I can only apologize so much before it sounds trite, but I do mean it."

"I know." He took her hand in his. "Min, if your heart isn't there, it's not there."

"But I wish it were," Minerva sobbed loudly, thinking about how much easier her life would be if she loved the wonderful man sitting beside her and not her professor. "I really want to be in love with you."

"You can't force it, Min. Besides, I'd rather know now. Hey, look at me." He tipped her chin towards him, and he cleared her tears away with his sleeve. "If I thought there was any chance I could persuade you otherwise, I would do it in a heartbeat. I would sing, I would dance, hell, I would even play quidditch again. But I know you, and I know that you know what's best for you."

"I don't think I do, not anymore." The tears were falling furiously now, and her voice cracked. Albus' words echoed in her mind. "What if I'm giving up something wonderful for something that can't ever happen? For a possibility at love that doesn't exist?"

"I think you'll find love one day, Min. When it happens, you'll know. I only wish it could be with me," Michael smiled sadly. "What if, for the rest of this year, you and I sit together and just forget the world, okay?"

"I'd like that." Minerva snuggled into his arms for the last time, knowing that until the clock chimed midnight, she had something safe to grasp onto.