A/N: I hope you enjoy this one!

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Twenty-Three: February 1944, Pt. II

Minerva opened her eyes to bright lights. She emitted a low groan at the assault on her pupils, instantly closing them again in an attempt to quell the throbbing at her temples. When the pain ameliorated only slightly, she decided it would be best to look around and get her bearings. Not to her surprise, she appeared to be in the Hospital Wing.

"I should have worn a damn helmet," Minerva muttered, remembering Aidan's joke. Had that conversation happened only last night? She had no way of knowing just how long she'd been lying in bed. Oddly, she couldn't remember the task actually ending, either. Hearing loud footsteps and even louder voices, Minerva shrunk back under the covers, sincerely hoping she wasn't still in one of her nightmares.

"Albus, that was ridiculously unprofessional!" Dippet shouted. Minerva winced at the tone. Dippet wasn't considered an angry man by repute, and if she didn't know his voice as well as she did, there was no way anyone could have convinced her it was the Headmaster speaking.

"Armando, I apologize," Albus responded, his voice tight. Their silhouettes were visible through the curtains around her bed. "It was accidental magic. I don't know what came over me."

"Accidental magic? You're a grown man, Albus, not a child coming to school for the first time! What on earth would have triggered such an emotional response?" Dippet's hands were on his hips, his left hand twitching towards his wand.

Albus noticed the movement. "I won't harm you, Armando. You don't need to defend yourself against me."

"Forgive me if I am a little wary of your word at the moment," Dippet snapped. "You see, before tonight, I would not have thought you capable of releasing an unknown spell that would rebound against a foreign colleague and cause her to be in some sort of magically induced coma!"

Minerva's eyes widened at the news as Albus again attempted to explain himself. "It was accidental-"

"Accidental or not, I expect you to control yourself!" Dippet bellowed, and the curtains around Minerva's bed swayed slightly with the force of his breath. "Good God, man, what came over you?"

"I don't..." Albus trailed off. He so rarely lost control anymore that he didn't quite know how to explain himself. "It must have been my anger, I suppose."

"Albus," Dippet's tone was gentler now, "we were all angry. I am still angry. The Minister is handling Mademoiselle LaFontaine as we speak. What they did is unforgivable, an absolute stain on the fabric of inter-magical cooperation. They will be punished, believe you me. I just wish I didn't have to be worried about you now, on top of everything else."

Minerva's heartbeat began to race. She wouldn't be able to tolerate it if Albus were carted away from Hogwarts, perhaps even to Azkaban. Putting someone in a magically induced coma, intentionally or otherwise, usually violated some sort of law. If only her head would stop pounding, she might have been able to remember what it was.

"They meddled in the task, Armando! Dubois hasn't liked Miss McGonagall from the start, and then...to interfere and give her three sections of the task, not two? No one else's magical core was at risk of full depletion! And then to hit her over the head at the end? What kind of educator -what kind of human- is that? Tell me, Armando, what could she possibly say to defend herself?" Albus' voice was furious, and Minerva couldn't blame him. She wanted to hex the two Frenchwomen; she knew they disliked her, but to intentionally cause her harm was something she had thought beyond even them.

"She can't quite answer for herself at the moment," Armando reprimanded softly, "as she is in a comatose state. Right now, we can only hope that Mademoiselle LaFontaine will be able to fill in the gaps."

"They better force her to withdraw," Albus growled, "magical contract be damned."

"Unfortunately," a third set of footsteps announced a newcomer in the Hospital Wing, "the contract is magically binding. I can't get her out of it without risking her injury, and surely even you wouldn't want me to do that, Albus."

"Minister." Dippet nodded his head in greeting. "How are things progressing downstairs?"

"Well," Minister Spencer-Moon declared, "the entire case is a complete mess. LaFontaine admitted that both she and Dubois have never liked McGonagall, but she swears she had no knowledge of the task interference. Before the task, Dubois apparently told her student to take her time and avoid all risks. LaFontaine now believes that Dubois didn't want her to get injured in an attempt to outdo McGonagall. This story holds water if Dubois had believed McGonagall would be so injured that she'd no longer be able to compete. And," he added, "before you ask, we were able to get around the Veritaserum legality issue. There's a bit of a loophole, you see: if students are accused of bodily harm and are of age, we can use it to discern what happened. LaFontaine either had no knowledge of Dubois' plans, or she was somehow able to fend off one of our best batches of the potion."

They all stood in silence for a few moments. Minerva took the time to consider what she had just found out. None of it sat well with her and coupled with the pain in her head, it only made her want to cry. The Minister's voice shook her out of her reverie. "We have that as settled as it can be, considering Dubois' condition. Now, Albus, I have to ask: what in the devil did you do to her?"

"It was unintentional, Minister. When we discovered the interference, I was furious, and my magic must have escaped my control. I will submit to whatever investigation you require."

The Minister snorted. "Honestly, Albus, the dramatics are a bit much. If this gets out, we can say you cast the wrong spell. It's not that hard to fool the public should they find out, which, I must say, absolutely cannot happen. I can't have this pop up as a public safety issue. Not during a war, and certainly not during an election. No, we'll be keeping this under wraps. You're safe from persecution, Albus. We will be having a conversation about your role in the war effort, though."

Albus bowed his head. "Whatever you wish, Minister. Your graciousness is appreciated."

"Good," the Minister paused. "One thing I cannot overlook, however, is the fact that Miss McGonagall transformed into an Animagus during the task. I looked over our registry, and she's not on it. Would someone care to explain the reason for that illegality?"

Minerva could see Albus stroke his beard tiredly. "Minister, Miss McGonagall is one of our most accomplished students. She expressed interest in pursuing her mastery in Transfiguration. As you may know, one of the ways to fast-track that process is to undergo an Animagus transformation. I agreed to teach her last year before the tournament began. We have continued our training this year, but I suppose the emotional stress of the task caused her to transform on her own prematurely. This could explain the depletion of her magical core."

If anyone could spin a web in which the Minister would catch himself, it was Albus. "I don't know much about the Animagi training process, Albus," he began, and Minerva thought that was rather what Albus was banking on, "but for Miss McGonagall's sake, as well as your own, I'll let it go. Please see to it that she registers herself as soon as she is well enough. If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with la Madame de Magie de France. As you might imagine, she is enraged at the fact that the Headmistress of her most esteemed school," the Minister snorted again, "is in a coma. Good evening, gentlemen."

The Hogwarts professors murmured their pleasantries to the Minister and watched him leave. Once the door had closed firmly, Dippet turned to his deputy. "You truly got lucky there, Albus."

"Did I? I'm sure in one way, yes, but in another, no," Albus sighed. "Where is Lavinia? I had hoped to check on Miss McGonagall's condition."

"Albus, you've been waiting here for two days. You only left to attend the meeting with Rookwood and the Ministry, and we all know how that ended," Dippet pointed out. "You need to return to your quarters to eat, sleep, and shower. Lavinia has told you the same thing over and over: Miss McGonagall will wake when she is able."

"That doesn't sound like a good prognosis to me, Armando."

"Admittedly, it's not the best I've ever heard, but I trust that Lavinia will see her through it with no lasting harm done. Albus..." Dippet trailed off hesitantly. "I hate to ask this, but given your vigil here and your emotional reaction earlier, I have to. There's nothing...untoward going on between you and Miss McGonagall, is there?"

Minerva's heart stopped as she watched Albus' head snap up, looking his boss directly in the eye. "Of course not, Armando. I'm her Head of House and have watched her grow for seven years. Certainly, I care for her; perhaps more than any of our other charges, but I still view her as a student. I would never do anything to blatantly disregard our responsibilities as teachers. And, I must admit, I feel somewhat responsible for her presence here. I had suspended our lessons, chalked it up to my busyness...if only I had taken the time to help her more, perhaps this could have been avoided."

"Oh, my dear boy." Dippet walked over to Albus and put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Please, don't think I'm offending your honour. I have complete faith in your respect for our rules. It's simply that anyone who knows you as well as I do would be able to see that you carry some feelings for her. Out of everyone, I would be the last person to judge. You're one of the few people that know the truth about Lavinia and me. I can offer counsel if you ever have need of it. I can be a fatherly voice, that's all." He paused, and Minerva was intrigued to discover a Hogwarts relationship that she hadn't known about. Madam Finch and Professor Johnson were a well-known item, but that was all of which the students were aware. Other than, Minerva winced, the ill-fated courtship of Albus and Professor Carter.

"Anyway," Dippet continued, "you need to stop taking everything on as your own personal fault. You could not have prevented Madame Dubois' actions, no matter what you might think now. You made the best decision regarding Miss McGonagall's training that you could with the information available at the time. Some events in life cannot be foreseen; in fact, that's true of almost everything. Your one fault -because truly, you have very few- is that you try so hard to plan how the world will turn. Even with all your brilliance, you cannot prevent fate. Remember that, Albus. All you can do is what you believe to be best. In this case, help Miss McGonagall recover when she wakes."

"Armando," Albus' tone was strangled, "I believe I did the opposite of the right thing. I thought I was acting honourably, but I may have worsened the situation."

"Then fix it." Dippet had returned to his usual, nonchalant self. "Fix it before you lose what's in front of you."

"Armando, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're telling me to pursue a relationship with a student," Albus frowned.

"That's not what I'm saying. I would never suggest that. God, Albus, don't you know me at all? I'm saying don't be idiots like Lavinia and I were. If you feel something for her, you can express an interest in courting her once the term ends. Don't let something wonderful slip you by for the sake of propriety. We sure didn't," Dippet snorted. He smiled for a moment, lost in thought, before adding somewhat more harshly, "Don't get yourselves hauled before the Wizengamot, and don't do anything er, romantic, until after she graduates. I will not have my best staff member's character and ethics called into question, and I most certainly will not be forced into tendering your resignation to the Board. Understood?"

She couldn't be sure, but Minerva thought Albus was blushing. "This is not a conversation I ever thought we'd have."

"No, but if someone had had it with me, perhaps I could have avoided the Wizengamot." Dippet groaned at the memory.

"If I recall, your father had to buy our way out of that." Madam Prewett's Irish lilt entered the room, followed by her footsteps. "Sometimes, I feel like we're still paying him back."

"Nonsense," Dippet laughed. "All's well that ends well, and I think we did alright, in the end. Twenty years of marriage and three kids later, we definitely beat the odds. Truthfully, I was shocked I was allowed to keep my job, and I was even more shocked that they promoted me to Headmaster, but-"

"But you're a white Pureblood from a rich family with lots of influence to swing around," Lavinia chided him. "And you're a man. Your father had to fight much harder for my future than for yours." She held up her hand to stop her husband's rebuttal. "No matter what you say, you know it's true. Anyway, as much as I enjoy rehashing our love story, I believe I have a patient to check on. Shoo, both of you."

"But Lavinia..." Albus protested.

"Albus, go to the other end of the Wing if you must stay, but I will not have you here while I run Miss McGonagall's tests." Albus conjured a chair in warning, clearly threatening to stay, and she sighed deeply. "Merlin, Armando, take Albus into my office for a nip of brandy. Go." Madam Prewett waited for a moment, and then the curtains flew open, revealing a very guilty-looking Minerva. "Ah. I thought you were awake."

"How did you know?"

"Years and years of watching students pretend to be asleep, Miss McGonagall, and you were thinking loudly," Madam Prewett winked at her. "I trust you'll keep that conversation to yourself?"

"Of course," Minerva promised. "Could I ask you a question, though, before we put it behind us?"

"Out with it, child," the matron fluffed her pillows. "What is it?"

"You kept your maiden name. Why? How? I didn't know that that was an accepted practice among pure-blood families."

Madam Prewett guffawed, running her diagnostic tests. "It's not, my girl. However, with the scandal about my relationship with Armando, we allowed the world to believe we had ended things. Our entire marriage has been private, and our children are aware of the level of secrecy to which they must adhere. Very few people know; Albus, and now yourself, are the only two to know in the castle."

"They let you come back and work here?"

"They couldn't bloody well stop me," the older woman grimaced. "Not when I claimed to have a husband and had the kids to prove it. Besides, the Ministry cannot prevent a staff member's hiring unless the candidate is a known lawbreaker. Thanks to my father-in-law, neither of us was ever convicted of anything. Really, the Board is only powerful when things begin to go downhill."

"Ah." Minerva pondered the words thoughtfully before thinking back to her own situation. "What landed me back in your care again?"

"Well, you took another smack to the head. This time, it looks like some damage was done to your optical nerves. You'll have to wear glasses from now on."

"Really? They'll be so annoying when I play quidditch," Minerva huffed. "Can't you just fix my eyesight?"

"No, I cannot. And as to your other problem, you're a witch," Madam Prewett winked. "Charm them to stay on, charm the rain to stay away. You can certainly do that."

"Well, yes, I can, but my ability is not the problem; rather, the constant inconvenience."

"Miss McGonagall, spectacles are not a death sentence. Dumbledore has them, and he's considered one of the best wizards of our time. They won't get in the way, I promise you." She flashed a cheeky smile at her patient. "Besides, your beautiful green eyes will still be visible to any suitor who may come calling."

"Madam Prewett!" Minerva groaned, pulling the comforter over her head. "That was not one of my concerns."

"And now it doesn't have to be," Madam Prewett replied airily, releasing the blanket from Minerva's grasp. "I need to see your head to see how you're healing, dear."

Minerva let the woman prod about her head for a while until she couldn't handle the suspense any longer. "Well, will I live?"

"Yes, you will live. I'm going to keep you here for a few days so that I can monitor the situation. Tomorrow we'll get your glasses sorted out, which will hopefully help with any recurring headaches you may suffer from in the future. The rest of your head injury is healing well, and your magical core is replenishing itself at a rapid rate. You have a lot of power, Miss McGonagall, and it's working in your favour. I'll need you to take two potions before you fall back asleep; one will help heal your head, and the other will help regulate your energy levels until your magic returns fully. Here, go ahead." She pushed the potions into Minerva's hands. "I'm not leaving until I've seen you drink them."

Minerva sighed and ingested the potions quickly, taking care to make sure she swallowed every last drop. As much as it pained her to admit it, she felt rather nauseated, and they already seemed to be helping. "Thank you, Madam Prewett."

"You're welcome, dear. Now, I suggest that you get some sleep. It's the fastest way for you to heal."

"I only just woke up after two full days of sleep!"

"Yes, well," the matron smiled, not unkindly, "you still need your rest. I'll leave you to it."

"Wait!" Minerva called before she was left alone again. "Is there any chance," she reddened slightly, "that I could see Alb-Professor Dumbledore before I sleep?"

Madam Prewett smiled knowingly at her young charge. "Not tonight, but perhaps tomorrow. I'll tell him you woke up, though, to ease his mind a bit."

"Thank you," Minerva breathed. She relaxed into the pillow, drowsiness taking over. "Goodnight, Madam Prewett." Before the matron could respond, Minerva was already asleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Minerva woke. She felt much better than she had before, and the dreamless sleep had done wonders for her brain. Blinking, her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness of her stall. A small sliver of moonlight shone in through a window, casting a dim glow over the dresser in the corner. If she squinted, which, she realized, she would now have to do without glasses, she could see a bird that looked awfully familiar.

"Albus?" she whispered into the dark, hoping it was really his Animagus form and not her mind playing tricks on her. "Is this how you managed to watch the other champions during their procedures?"

The phoenix transformed into Albus, who instantly warded the area. "Yes, this is how I watched them. It is a blessing that no one knows about my Animagus abilities. I am sorry that your days of living in anonymity are over." He hesitated, looking her over. "I hope you're not offended that I was in here watching you sleep. Lavinia made me promise to go home, but I didn't feel right leaving."

"It's definitely somewhat creepy, and we'll be having a talk about it later," Minerva assured him with a wicked smile, "but I appreciate the protective instinct."

"I can go, if you wish," he gestured towards the window. "I can easily fly back out."

"As much as I'd like to see that," Minerva laughed, "I had wanted to speak with you earlier. Pull up a chair and come here. If you don't already know, I apparently need glasses. I should like to be able to see you when I talk to you."

Chuckling, Albus picked up a chair leaning against the dresser and placed it against the curtains. "You'll grow accustomed to the glasses in no time, don't worry. As for the 'creepiness,' I do apologize."

She sensed his uneasiness and sighed. "You were here because you felt bad and wanted to make sure I was safe, no? You weren't here hoping to disrobe me and have your way with me while I was asleep?"

"Merlin, no," Albus said, horrified. "Why on earth would you think that?"

Minerva waved her hand in dismissal. "I don't think that, which is my point. You were here to watch over me, and while your methods are, shall we say, unusual, they are also effective."

"How is it you've grown more direct?" Albus muttered, cradling his head. "I hadn't believed that possible."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Why are you rubbing your head, Albus?"

"I've had a never-ending headache since we brought you here. It must be some variant of sympathy pains, although I've never heard of a sympathy headache," Albus admitted.

"Do you want some potion for it?" Minerva offered. "I'm sure there's some here that we could find."

"No," Albus shook his head, "no, Miss McGonagall, I've tried. I've taken far more than the recommended dose -Lavinia almost hexed me when she found that out-, but I can't be rid of it. I'm sure it will run its course eventually."

"For your sake, I hope so." She paused, looking him over. "Can we be done with the 'Miss McGonagall' business now? Before you say no, you should know that I overheard your conversation with the Headmaster, the Minister, and Madam Prewett. It seems we have a lot to discuss."

Albus paled considerably. "You heard all of that?"

Minerva nodded decisively. "I wanted you to be in possession of all of the facts before you gave me your answer."

"If you know the contents of that discussion," he exhaled slowly, "and if we will therefore be embarking on a conversation of a more personal nature, then yes, I can call you by your name again if you wish it."

"I do," Minerva smiled. "Now, say it."

"What?"

"Say my name. Minerva. I haven't heard you say it in almost two months."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, but didn't push the issue. "Fine. Minerva, can we move onto a different topic now?"

A flush of warmth ran through her at hearing her name uttered from his lips once more. "Yes. Can you start by telling me how in Merlin's name I ended up back here? I gathered from your conversation that Dubois arranged some sort of mafia-like hit on me, but I want to hear the story from you."

Albus sighed wearily. "I believe we have both known for some time that she was unimpressed, shall we say, with your presence in the tournament."

"And yet she was fine with Riddle's," Minerva snorted. "She called me a bitch and a whore, so I can't say her dislike comes as a surprise, no."

"When on earth did she call you a whore?"

"Oh," Minerva flushed. She hadn't wanted to talk about Christmas until they had made some progress. "At the ball. When we took the photo."

"I see." Albus pursed his lips and exhaled slowly. "So, yes, there was an obvious distaste for you. Anyway, all of the supervisory professors - Headmaster Torin, Headmistress Dubois, Armando, and myself- were present to construct the second task. Various Ministry officials completed the task, and we supervised. Everything seemed to be in order. With Madame Dubois in her current," he paused briefly, "state, it's hard to be sure, but we believe that she somehow charmed your quadrant of the arena to have three segments, not two. She would have had ample time to study the blueprint for the task, and because she knew how to enter the design chamber, it would have been all too easy for her to alter the task."

"It would seem that you have a security problem," Minerva murmured, her brow creasing. "What part of the task would I have avoided?"

Albus shook his head. "I honestly don't know, Minerva. We didn't see your nightmares specifically, but there were obviously some that we could deduce based on your spell work. For instance, I'm aware of the dementors; I can't imagine why else you would have cast a Patronus. My only observation is that you would only have had to maneuver through two sections. Based on what the other champions had to face, yours wouldn't have been nearly so difficult."

"The dementors were atrocious, Albus," Minerva shuddered. "I've never felt so completely hopeless. I never want to face a dementor again. It took too much out of me."

"If I may ask, how did you work up the courage to cast the spell? I'm not sure you're aware, but it took you nearly six minutes to fend them off. We," Albus hesitated, "I was worried."

"I thought of you and how I feel about you," she smiled gently. "It was all I needed."

"And your other tasks?"

"Duelling you," Minerva laughed loudly, "on a ridiculously oversized chess set, and then some underwater Inferi."

"I never should have left you alone these past two months." Albus shook his head regretfully. "That was an awful oversight on my part. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am."

"I told you the other day: I understand why you did it. And, I made it out alive!" Minerva attempted to joke with him. "I just didn't quite make it past the doorway. Care to continue with the story?"

"Oh, a heavy stone was charmed to fly at your head the moment that the door opened. One of the Ministry officials, Rookwood, if I'm not mistaken, could trace the spell caster using the magic on the rock. It took him the last two days to figure it out, but he eventually did. Dubois might be malicious, but she clearly isn't the most intelligent would-be murderess to grace our world."

"And so when you found out," she bit her lip, stifling laughter, "you blew her up?"

"I didn't blow her up. She did fly through the air, however, and there was, well, a boom."

"You blew her up? Boom? Just like that?"

"Minerva," Albus rolled his eyes, "she is not blown up. She is merely resting, albeit unconsciously, under Ministry supervision after my magic threw her into a wall."

Minerva laughed harder than she had in months. "I wish I could have seen that. She deserved what she got, I'm sure."

"Perhaps one day I can show you the memory in my Pensieve," Albus suggested, allowing himself a brief smile. "Although, if you heard our conversation with the Minister, you would know that my punishment is no laughing matter."

Her mind replayed the conversation, and her mood sobered as she remembered. "He mentioned the war effort."

Albus nodded. "Yes, he did. While you know I had resigned myself to joining the war effort at the end of the year, I don't think I have a choice now. I am about to become intimately involved in the Minister's plans, whether I like it or not. I can only hope he won't come calling before I'm ready to leave."

"I'll duel him if I need to," Minerva told him seriously. "You can't leave before the year is over."

"I doubt it will come to that, seeing as he'll want more security around during the final task now," he sighed. "I had wanted the summer off, though. I wanted to be able to feel alive without any responsibilities. To have the time to travel, cook, visit old friends, do all of the things a man should do before he runs off to war."

"We'll make sure you do those things. I don't know how, but we will." Minerva looked at him, taking in his weary expression. "I hate to do this to you right now, given how tired you seem, but I think we should talk about the other part of the conversation that I overheard."

"I presume you mean the part with Armando and Lavinia?"

"Yes. While I'm slightly," she struggled to find the right word, "disconcerted knowing that they have insight into my personal life, I am very curious about the history there."

"Lavinia was a seventh-year student here during my time as a young student." Albus rubbed his jaw in an attempt to ease some of the tension that had plagued him for the last few days. "She and Armando began an amorous relationship while she was still a student. They were caught in, well, an indelicate position by a student and his visiting parents. It caused quite the stir, as I'm sure you can imagine. Like you heard, they were both called before the Wizengamot. Armando was accused of engaging in inappropriate relations with a student, taking advantage of a power imbalance-"

"All of the reasons you gave me," Minerva whispered, her voice soft.

"Yes." Their eyes locked for a moment before she turned away, filled with a sudden sense of guilt. "It was worse for Lavinia. Even though she was only a student, many members of the Wizengamot viewed her as a harlot who had seduced her professor and convinced him to abandon his duties. The Wizengamot is incredibly patriarchal, and at first, it seemed as though she would lose her wand, and he would merely lose his position."

"Neither of those things happened, Albus."

"No," he conceded, "they did not. As you heard, Armando comes from a wealthy family that is very well-established in the wizarding community. Armando begged his father to save Lavinia as well, and so it was done. Money can work wonders, my dear, and under its influence, the Wizengamot concluded that Lavinia was seventeen and, therefore, of age, so any encounters were legal. While the behaviour was regrettable, as long as they agreed to end the affair, there would be no disciplinary action required."

"And yet they didn't end it. At least, not for good."

"That," Albus heeded her off, "is not my story to tell."

"I understand." Minerva swallowed in preparation for what she knew was coming next. "So, taking all of that into consideration, the Headmaster still encouraged you to make things work between us."

He groaned loudly. "Probably due in large part to his past, Armando is fond of underdog romances and meddling where ever he can. I am sorry that he caught on, Minerva."

"It's not your fault," she waved away his apology. "All I want to know is if it changed your opinion on the matter."

"Gleaning what I can from what you said earlier about your Patronus charm, would I be correct in presuming your feelings on the subject haven't changed?"

"No, Albus," Minerva said amusedly, "they have not."

"Right." Albus blushed and shook his head slightly from side to side, and had she not been hanging on his every word, Minerva would have laughed. "Do you remember after the dance, when you were in my office? You told me to let you tell your story without interruptions. Could we replicate the reverse now?"

"I'm all ears." Minerva leaned against the pillow and sighed, realizing she couldn't quite see him clearly now with the extra distance. "Any chance you could come closer? My head hurts, and I can barely see you if I lean back."

"Of course!" Albus moved the chair so that it was propped against her bed. "You should have told me you were in pain."

"I'm not in pain, Albus," she shook her head. "This is much better, thank you. Now, go ahead, please." She smiled wickedly. "I want to hear you profess your love for me."

He reddened in response to her brave cheek and nervously rubbed his palm against his robes. "Minerva, I believe I first felt something for you when you fell off your broom during last year's Quidditch final. At first, I thought I was just protective, but I was too incensed with Horace and Armando for that to be true. Then I saw you here, in a bed much like this one, and it hurt to breathe. The sight of you injured made my blood run cold. I knew then that I cared more than I had thought. More than I ought to.

"I was able to set it out of my mind until we danced. I suggested you as an example not only because I thought it made sense, but also as a way of proving to myself that I could handle the closeness of the activity." Albus looked at her, his eyes serious. "While I can't tell you that I felt the...electricity that you described while we danced, I confess that I felt more than I would have if I had simply been dancing with one of my students. When I saw you with Mr. Rosin, I was shocked at how much I wanted to be in his place. To hear you say my name was almost too much to bear. And then to see his smirk, well, I haven't felt so infuriated in a long time."

"Albus," Minerva breathed, "I am so sorry."

"You weren't to know, Minerva. It's not your fault. Besides, what I told you later that night remains true: I could not in good conscience suggest that I was a better suitor for yourself than Mr. Rosin. It would be highly illogical for me to be angry with you for," he reddened again, "seeking comfort elsewhere. I must confess that a few days ago, for the first time, I believe that I experienced the physical reaction of which you spoke."

"When I grabbed your hand before the task?" Minerva asked, knowing it was the only contact between them in months. "Did it feel as though your entire body was on fire? Like your heart was about to cruise out of your chest and smash into the ground, splayed open for everyone to see?"

"Something like that," Albus sighed. His eyes flicked down to her hand and back again. "If I may?" She nodded, acquiescing, and he took her hand in his. The instant their hands touched, Minerva learned what love felt like. It was the first true touch between them, the pair recognizing and fully accepting the reaction. Their acceptance of the situation had an effect on them both, causing warmth to spill from their hands and course through their veins.

"This feels much better than the ridiculous potion," Minerva uttered softly, "and it is much more pleasant than when I was the only one to feel it."

"It's so curious," Albus muttered, turning their entwined hands over.

"Have you ever felt this before, Albus?" Instead of responding, he shot her a questioning look, and she rolled her eyes. "I hate to bring this up indelicately, but you are older than I am. You've had more relationships than me. Have you experienced anything like this?"

"No, I can't say that I've ever had the pleasure. I've had something similar, but nothing ever amounted to this magnitude."

"Add it to the list of mysteries, then." Minerva could swear she felt her heart smile when he laughed.

"Can I return to being serious, just for a moment, my dear?" Albus inquired hesitantly. She simply stared at him, so he continued. "I need you to know that I had never felt so loved as I did when you professed your feelings for me. You don't love freely, Minerva, so to receive your love when it's given is the most incredible feeling. If we had been in any other circumstance, one without our current obstacles, I would have responded truthfully and told you that I felt the same. I would have asked to take you to dinner so that I could court you properly. I never wanted you to feel like I didn't return your feelings. I only wanted to protect our future, whether that was together or separate. I sincerely apologize if these past two months have been hard on you. I need to tell you that they have been hell for me."

His eyes never left hers, and she felt a tear escape. In her entire life, no one had ever said something that had made her feel so safe and loved. It was a feeling that she wanted to bottle and keep safe; she wanted to bask in its glow forever. "I don't know what to say, Albus." Minerva placed her other hand on top of his free one and squeezed it gently. "That means more to me than I could ever express."

"So, I haven't scared you off?"

"No, not yet." She beamed at him before a memory came rushing back. "Albus, what shattered in your office after I left on Christmas? That nearly scared me half to death."

"Oh," he blushed once more, "I threw one of my chess sets against the wall. The pieces were made of glass and broke easily upon impact."

"Albus, didn't Miss Bagshot give you that set? It was worth a fortune!"

"Yes, well," he huffed in slight indignation. "I don't tend to play chess with anyone but you, and given my frustration at our situation, it seemed a suitable item to smash to smithereens. Besides, I am rather good at magic and could restore the pieces to their original form. One of the white rooks was quite incensed with me, though, so I regrettably had to charm his mouth shut."

"Ah." After sleeping for two days, Minerva's brain was whirring nonstop as she tried to digest everything that had happened. "Albus, I want to apologize for using my Animagus form during the task. I should have known they would be able to see it. I hope it won't cause any trouble. What happens now that the Ministry knows I'm an Animagus?"

"Firstly, Minerva, if there is blame, lay it on my feet. I told you to bask in the anonymity. I should have realized its uses and, therefore, its consequences, during the tournament. It won't cause any trouble so long as we do what we should have done from the start. We register you so that you're officially on the register, and that will be the end of it. Your tabby form and transfiguration prowess will be known to all." One of Albus' fingers was absentmindedly stroking the palm of her hand. "You won't be my tabby anymore, you'll be the world's."

"Albus, I'm not much for nicknames," Minerva's nose wrinkled at the many "Minnie Mouse" jokes she had endured throughout her youth, "but I wouldn't mind if you called me tabby."

"If the lady insists," Albus said grandly, and they both laughed at his theatrics. "I'll call you Tabby whenever we're alone."

Minerva frowned slightly at the apparent wrinkle in their plan to which he had unintentionally referred. "In private, it works well. I think we need to have a discussion, though, about what happens outside of these hospital curtains." She removed one hand from his and waved it around in the air. "I am willing to make this work if you are. I know there are obvious risks, and I have no desire to end up hauled before the Wizengamot, even if I know you could just bewitch them all into letting us live our lives freely. You've told me how you feel, and I very much appreciate that, but you haven't told me if your stance on an actual relationship has shifted."

Albus eyed her carefully. "I think we continue on as we were before the holidays: meeting regularly, training, talking. I don't think I have the power to keep away from you, my dear, and I would feel much better if I could help train you for the final task. Please don't let on that you know, but poor Mr. Scrimgeour's grades were slipping in his efforts to help you. If I could help him while being self-serving, well," he pressed his lips together, "that would kill two birds with one stone. However, like Armando alluded to, nothing else can happen until you graduate. No actual dates, no physical acts, nothing. It must be kept above ground. I have not forgotten that Mr. Riddle is already giving you grief, and I will not give anyone reason to cast aspersions on us."

It was Minerva's turn to blush. "You can't realize how happy it makes me to hear you say that we might have, well, some sort of future beyond these walls."

"Ah," Albus tutted gently, "this is where we need to be careful. I still have to go to war. I cannot promise that I will make it out alive. I cannot promise that we will be together until the end of our days. All I can promise is that I will do my best to do right by you."

"That is all I can ask, and all I can promise in return." Minerva yawned, the day's events clearly taking their toll.

"I should let you rest, my dear," Albus spoke softly. "You've had a long week."

She went to protest, but her mouth betrayed her as she yawned again. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right. Is there any chance you can stay here with me?" Her voice was more vulnerable than she would have liked, but now that she had him, she wasn't about to let him slip away.

"Minerva, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I don't mean 'stay here,'" she patted the bed, "but rather, on your perch. You were quite the sight in bird form." He hesitated, and she fixed him with a glare. "Honestly, Albus, you were going to be here until I woke up anyway."

"You have a point," he agreed, and she loved the thrill she felt when he yielded to her stubborn nature. "I'll stay until the sun rises, at which point Armando will most likely come to fetch me from my quarters. He walked me back home tonight to make sure I got there. What a meddlesome man."

"He simply cares about you. For what it's worth, I agree with him. You need your sleep," Minerva told him gently.

"I'll sleep once this damn headache goes away, and you're back in your own bed, healed," Albus replied. Still holding her hand, he placed his other hand on the bed and leaned forward tentatively. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good night, Tabby."

Her breath hitched at the touch, and a feeling of tenderness flowed from her head down to her toes. The kiss was a whispered promise, fleeting but real, and she inwardly admired his boldness. Minerva watched him transform back into a phoenix and settle back onto his dresser. She relaxed into the pillows and slowly drifted off to sleep, cradled under his protective watch.