A/N: Thank you for your kind words!

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: December 1944

"Watch it, McG!" Aidan jumped over a falling rock and pulled Minerva to his chest, yanking her out of the way. "Pay attention, will you?"

"Yeah," Minerva panted, clutching her ribs. Wincing, she removed her fingers and saw that they were stained red with her blood. "Thanks."

"You were supposed to get in and out, not just sit there! Why are you just sitting there, anyway?" Aidan asked, rubbing at a cut on his arm.

"I already got what we needed," Minerva said. "I was about to call the signal when I saw..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes focused once more on the fight in front of her. Callum and Albus were engaged in a duel with four of Grindelwald's followers, spells darting across the field.

"Merlin, McG, if you've got what we need, we need to get the fuck out of here!" Aidan whispered harshly. "Why do you want to endanger us all for any longer than necessary?"

Minerva turned her head to stare at him fiercely. "I don't want to endanger us. I just wanted to see them duel. It's magnificent." Her eyes focused back on Albus, who was expertly defending Callum and himself from the onslaught. "I've never seen anyone duel like that."

"Didn't you practice with him for the tournament?" Aidan's brow crinkled as he reached into Minerva's pocket and placed her wand into her palm.

"Yeah, but that was practice," Minerva shook her head, "not this." She accepted her wand and flicked it, sending out an audio message to the rest of the team. The team had managed to magically control walkie-talkies so that a signal could be transmitted and heard only by those wearing the small devices. She waited for the slight vibration in the machine, indicating that her message had been sent, before turning to Aidan. "Shall we head to the apparition point?"

"Please." Aidan rolled his eyes as they began to run to safety. "Honestly, you shouldn't want to fight this much."

"It's why we're here, isn't it?" A log popped up, impeding their path, and she tripped over it, hitting the muddy earth. She groaned at the impact, her already-injured ribs screaming at her as she tried to get up.

"McG, if you're okay, we need to move." Aidan yanked her to her feet. "You good?" At her nod, he started running again, pulling her along beside him.

After a few minutes of running, they arrived in the clearing. Minerva chanced a look at her leg, which was a bloodied mess, matching the pain she felt. "Oh, shit."

"What?" Aidan looked down at her leg and then at her. "You told me you were good!"

"How long until we can apparate?" Minerva groaned, rubbing at her ribs. She had a sneaking suspicion that the pain and blood were caused by a nasty hex she hadn't quite dodged from one of Grindelwald's henchmen, and she could already feel her ribs starting to bruise.

"About a minute." Aidan looked grimly at his watch. "And we leave with or without them."

"Aidan, don't be ridiculous," she gasped, her breath hitching at the effort. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"I'm fine enough that I can wait for them," Minerva protested. "I do not want to leave them here."

Aidan shook his head. "You know our orders, Min. We get as many of us back to safety as we can. Then we come back for the others."

"They wouldn't leave us," Minerva argued, knowing her brother and Albus would protect her above all else, mission be damned.

"Minerva." Aidan grabbed her hand as a blade of grass turned a slight blue, indicating they had a minute during which they could apparate. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, but—" Minerva hesitated, but before she could say anything else, Aidan had apparated the two of them back to their base.

"Are you all right?" Their captain, Monsieur Foucault, ran up to them. "Where are the other two?"

"I'm going back," Aidan announced. "Don't move Min until we're all here." With a pop, he sent himself back to the battle.

"I'm going to kill him," Minerva hissed, biting her lip as her leg adjusted to the new terrain.

"McGonagall, you need medical attention," Monsieur Foucault remarked. "Do you need help getting to the first aid tent?"

"I'm not leaving until they're back," Minerva said fiercely. She looked at her watch. "And if they're not back in the next seventeen seconds, I'm going back after them."

"I can't let you do that," her captain replied.

"It's a good thing I don't need your permission, then." Minerva took a steadying breath and prepared to apparate herself to the battlefield. She turned but was knocked down by the three men arriving, landing in a heap on the grass.

"Owwwwww." Minerva rolled over. "Watch where you're going, Scrimgeour."

"Were you seriously going to come back after us?" Aidan rolled his eyes. "I told you to trust me."

"Are you all okay?" she asked, doing her best to inspect them from her vantage point on the ground.

"Callum has a broken wrist, but other than that, we're fine." Albus knelt down beside her. "What happened to you?"

"I tripped and cut my leg pretty badly," Minerva admitted. "Oh, and when I was leaving their base in my animagus form, my ribs were slashed with a hex."

Albus promptly picked her up and began to walk to the first aid tent. "Monsieur Foucault, we'll debrief after the McGonagalls have been healed."

"By 1600 hours regardless!" Foucault called after them. "It's Christmas tomorrow, and the Ministry's letting us have the day off. I'm not staying on duty later than I have to tonight."

"I forgot it was Christmas," Minerva managed, her voice soft as she tried to preserve her breath. "I'm glad you got out okay. I was prepared to go back."

"Minerva, my dear, you'll be the death of me," Albus muttered. "The best thing you can do for me is to protect yourself and get help, even if that means leaving me."

"I joined this fight to protect you." She tilted his chin to look down at her, forcing him to stop walking. "It's what I'll always do. I protect you, you catch me, remember? It's how we work."

He chuckled and began to walk again. "Merlin, Minerva, your leg looks awful."

"It hurts," Minerva admitted. "I don't think I'll be transforming for at least a couple of days."

Albus opened the tent and placed Minerva on the nearest bed. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No." She shook her head. Minerva reached into her robes and took out the item that she had gone undercover to retrieve. "Can you get the debriefing out of the way so that I can just relax after this? There were three guards. I sent two to the French Ministry; the other one is the one who hexed me. He escaped, and I didn't recognize him. This is a map to G's main headquarters. Well, I'm not sure if it's his main headquarters, but there are two different sets of coordinates. I'm sure one of them will tell us what we need to know."

"You do realize you may have just secured the very thing that will help us win the war?" Albus raised his eyebrow, taking the parchment from her.

"Can I presume you forgive me for following you out here, then?" Minerva joked weakly, her hand still pressed to her ribs.

"I've long since forgiven you. It doesn't mean I'm happy about it," Albus smirked, "but you're forgiven."

"Glad to hear it." Minerva winced as one of the Medi-Witches arrived and began handling her leg. "Now, go. Ow, Madame Beaufôret, can you be a little gentler?"

Albus snorted as he left the tent, intent on finding their captain.

"Checkmate," Albus sang gleefully, knocking Minerva's king off the board.

"Well, it appears my one-game winning streak is over," Minerva groaned, looking at her pieces in disgust. "Let's chalk it up to my broken ribs, shall we?"

"If only those had been healed," Albus teased, sending the chessboard back to his cabinet.

Minerva watched the chessboard settle into place, looking around her surroundings. "You have quite the tent, Albus. It's huge just for you."

"You also have a tent to yourself." He eyed her carefully. "We're very fortunate."

"I have a tent to myself because I'm the only girl on our team," Minerva snorted. "You have a tent to yourself because you're Albus Dumbledore. My tent is nowhere near as big or as furnished. It's literally the smallest version of witching tents that they make."

"Touché." Albus relaxed back on the couch. "Do you want more tea?"

"Please." Minerva nodded, watching as he poured the water into her cup. "Now that the tea has been poured and I'm too sore to move, could we please have a conversation?"

He knew exactly to which conversation she was referring. "Minerva, I told you before we left for the front that we couldn't blur the lines between work and our personal lives," Albus sighed, his hand rubbing his jaw. "While we're at the front, we have to act like we're on a mission. Our lives quite literally depend on us remaining focused."

"That didn't stop you from telling me that you love me," she retorted. They had had this spat many a time since returning from their date in Inverness -where she had first experienced a date à la Albus Dumbledore and had rather enjoyed herself- and she was too tired of the argument to care that her point hit below the belt.

"Because I do love you," Albus murmured, looking in her eyes. "That doesn't mean, however, that I think we should be spending the night together in a war zone. It's a recipe for disaster. Aidan, Callum, Foucault, anyone from our team could walk in and see something they shouldn't. And," he swallowed, "we can't have anyone knowing what you mean to me, lest it gets back to G. We have to be secretive for a little while longer."

"Do you promise that this has everything to do with professionalism and logistics and nothing to do with what happened at my parents' home?" she inquired, crossing her arms.

"My dear, while your father pointed out our age gap in a less than savoury manner, that is not why I think we need to keep our romantic distance. If I had had a problem with the age difference, we wouldn't even be in this situation," Albus replied. He hated that this was where her mind travelled, but he knew that she wouldn't seek reassurance unless it genuinely bothered her. Not for the first time since meeting the man, Albus inwardly cursed Robert McGonagall. "It has nothing to do with you or your family and everything to do with the situation."

"And after the war, we can tell everyone?"

"You have my word," he promised. "Once G is gone, the world is our oyster."

"Good," Minerva said happily before changing the subject. "How weird is it to call him G?" Their forces all used it as a nickname, in case there was a trace put on his full name.

"It's very...weird." He released a small, morose chuckle, pondering the initial. "It helps to keep the emotions at bay, though."

"I hope," Minerva began gently, "that it's not you that has to defeat him in the end. I hope it's Foucault, or Callum, or even me. You shouldn't have to give more of yourself to the wizarding world than you already have."

"It had better not be you, come hell or high water," Albus retorted fiercely. "While I can hope it will be a member of a different contingent, it most likely will be me in the end."

"What's wrong with hope, Albus?"

"Hope doesn't make it easier when reality hits," he sipped his tea, "but realism does."

She ruminated in his words for a moment, letting them wash over her. When she spoke, Minerva's voice was quiet. "You really think it will be you, don't you?"

"At the risk of sounding egotistical, I don't know that anyone else has the power or knowledge to best him," Albus sighed. "He knows far too many tricks; he has studied the rarest of texts. As much as I hate to admit it, I know him. I know his magic and his mind. I...I know what's left of his heart."

Albus' voice cracked on the last word, and Minerva leapt off her chair, cursing her healed-but-still-sore ribs. Much like he had done for her in her house, she caught him as the tears started to fall. "Shhh, Albus. Hush now. It will be all right."

"I'm not sure how it can be," he admitted weakly, sobbing into her robes. "One of us will die; that's how this ends. And to meet that end at the hand of the other?"

"You make it sound so prophetic," she sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Whether it's you or it's not, this has to end. It will end, and death is only one of many potential outcomes. Surely someone could imprison him, no? Didn't you once tell me you'd try to end this without death?"

"Yes, but now that we're here, I'm not sure how. Imprisonment may work, but to inflict that? That's almost...worse," Albus mumbled.

"Albus, my love..." Minerva trailed off, not quite sure how to help. "I'll do everything I can to ensure it's not you at the end and that if it is, there will be no death." She released a slow breath. "You will not die, not on my watch."

He tilted his chin up to look at her, his eyes widening as he realized that, perhaps for the first time in all the time they've known each other, he was admittedly and openly emotional. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You're not," she assured him. This was the first time she was the comforter in their relationship, and she did not want to let him down. "I would feel uneasy if our nemesis were Michael, and in comparison to your relationship, ours was nothing at all."

"It wasn't nothing, Minerva."

"Fine, not nothing." She pursed her lips. "But I know that what I felt for him did not even come close to how you felt for G. I can understand that you have a love for him and the relationship you shared, even though you're no longer in love with him." Minerva smiled slightly. "At least, I hope you're not in love with him anymore."

He kissed her suddenly and passionately, so much so that when he finally pulled away, she was breathing heavily. With his forehead perched against hers, Albus murmured, "No, Minerva. I'm not in love with him anymore."

"Evidently," Minerva chuckled lightly. She swiped the remnants of his tears off of his cheeks with her thumbs. "Let me stay tonight, please. Let me hold you."

"What about—?"

She cut off his question, knowing that if he was asking, he had already given in and wanted her to stay. "Albus, we can always tell people I fell asleep on your couch and that you didn't want to move me," Minerva's eyes danced, "seeing as I'm injured and all."

He picked her up and strode into the part of his tent designed to be a bedroom. Wordlessly, Albus transfigured their clothes into pyjamas and slipped them under his covers. "Is this all right?"

Minerva snuggled into his side and laid her head on his chest. "Perfect." They laid together in silence, his hand stroking her hair. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, but she could practically hear his brain whirring. "Albus, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Tabby. Nothing at all."

For the second time that day, she took hold of his chin and tilted his face towards her. "You're thinking loudly. What's going on?"

His eyes searched hers. She didn't look away, letting him look for whatever he wanted. Eventually, he found it. "Minerva, does it bother you?"

"Does what bother me?" Minerva asked patiently. She would never admit it, but she slightly enjoyed his turmoil; the shoe was on the other foot, and she liked that she wasn't the only one with baggage.

Albus' voice was uncharacteristically hoarse, his eyes piercing. "Does it bother you that I loved Ge...G?"

She stayed silent for a moment, knowing he would not take solace in a quick, negative response. "If anything at all bothers me about the situation, it's that he turned into who he is. Not that he is a man," she added, just in case that was another worry of his.

"That's not a yes or no answer, my dear," he sighed.

"Albus," Minerva huffed. "It's an honest answer. I don't make a habit of thinking about it, to be truthful. It's easier that way. Does it bother me that you had a rather torrid love affair? No, it doesn't. Does it bother me that you loved a man? No. Does it bother me that the man with whom we're at war once laid in my spot? Slightly, I suppose. But I know you, and I can see why you would have loved him before he turned to the other side. He is clearly intelligent, his pictures certainly make him out to be rather handsome, and he's powerful."

"Minerva, I encouraged him. I participated in his ambitions. I helped craft them," Albus whispered.

His vulnerable tone broke her heart. She patted his chest. "Whatever you did is done. You didn't pursue them. He did. That's all there is to it."

"Minerva, I—"

"Albus." Her tone was final. Not only did she not want to argue with him on their first Christmas Eve together, but if she were honest, she had no desire to think about Albus' desires for power and what he had done in search of it.

She would have plenty of time to think about it in future.

"Thank you for loving me, Minerva." Albus kissed her forehead. "Thank you for seeing the good in me. And, for what it's worth, you, too, are brilliant and powerful. And beautiful."

Minerva smiled demurely. "It's nice to know you think so." She let her hand on his chest trail downward, ever so slowly. "Even if you've only really shown me once."

"Minerva, don't start something you can't finish." Albus caught her hand, but his eyes were twinkling. "You are injured, after all."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, do shut up, Albus."

He pressed his lips to hers, doing just that.

"Albus! ALBUS, IT'S CHRISTMAS!" They could hear Aidan yelling through the walkie-talkie. "Wake up!"

"Urrrrrrrgh," Minerva groaned, throwing a pillow over her head.

"Was he like this every Christmas in the tower?" Albus murmured drowsily, turning the sound down with a flick of his wrist.

"Unfortunately," she mumbled back. A stray thought ran through her head, and she jolted awake, the pillow crashing to the floor. "Perhaps it is best that we head out there."

"Why? This bed is warm, you're here, and it's our first day off in ages. I do not see much reason to leave, my dear."

"Because," she poked his side, "it's Aidan's first Christmas without Charlotte. I don't want him to be alone."

"He won't be alone." Albus burrowed himself into her side. "He'll have Callum, Foucault, and anyone else who is up at this god-awful hour."

"I really want to tell you that you have a point, but we're already up."

"There are much more pleasurable activities to partake in here," Albus remarked.

A blush crept up Minerva's cheeks as she remembered just what had kept her up so late and why she was so tired. "Really, Albus, yesterday you were very hoity-toity about not being intimate here, and now you're the complete opposite."

"Well, Tabby, you've gone to great lengths to show me the error of my ways," Albus chuckled, kissing the side of her head. "It was an error in judgment on my part."

"Even still," she pressed his knuckles to her lips, "what you said yesterday made sense. I think there's a balance to be had while we're here, and unfortunately, that probably means joining the rest of the team for Christmas morning."

"As usual, you're right," Albus sighed. He slipped his arms around her and maneuvered the two of them out of bed. At her cocked eyebrow, he rolled his eyes and set her down. "How are you feeling?"

Minerva twisted around and shook out her legs, feeling for any traces of her injuries. "My ribs are slightly sore, but my leg seems fine. And you?"

"My chest hurts a bit," he admitted. "Probably from all of the running yesterday. I'm not a young man anymore, you know." Albus looked at his watch, rolling his eyes. "Merlin, it's early. Why don't you use the loo and shower? I'll do the same, and then we can head out together."

"Do you have two bathrooms in here, or will you be joining me?"

He had enough grace to blush. "As you rightly pointed out, they did give me a rather large tent."

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she summoned her clothes. "It must be nice being Albus Dumbledore," Minerva grumbled. "I'm taking whichever one is bigger."

After they had both showered and composed themselves, they left the tent to find the rest of their team huddled around a campfire.

"We were wondering where the two of you were." Callum's tone was casual, but his eyes caught his sister's, and she could see the suspicion brewing.

"We played chess last night, and I'm afraid I fell asleep during the game. Albus feared my wrath too much to move me from his couch," Minerva answered easily. Their team chuckled, many of them knowing exactly what it was like to be the subject of Minerva's ire.

"I'm surprised you're up, seeing as you hate early mornings and all," Aidan beamed, running up to her and giving her a hug.

"I don't think you could have shouted any more loudly," Minerva teased. "Any chance of getting some tea around here?"

"Here." Foucault Summoned some tea and handed it to her, along with an envelope. "You got a letter too, McGonagall."

"A letter?" Minerva questioned, taking both from her captain. "Thank you."

"Who is it from, Minnie?" Callum asked. "Let me know if it's from Ma or Da; I didn't get anything from them."

Minerva ignored that last bit and asked a happier question of her brother. "Did you get anything from Lucy?"

Her brother's face lit up. "Yeah, she and Iolanthe are both doing well." Callum walked over to her, a photo in his outstretched palm. "Look."

Minerva looked at the picture and smiled instantly. Iolanthe and Lucy were smiling at each other in front of a Christmas tree, waving happily at the camera. "She looks like she has grown so much."

"Yeah, well, it has been four months since we've seen them," Callum said gruffly, and she could tell he was holding back tears.

"My letter isn't nearly as adorable," Minerva announced, opening it in hopes of cheering her brother up. "It's from Ro. She sends her love and says she is finally getting moved to the front," she groaned. "That is not news I needed on Christmas morning."

"I can't imagine Poppy is happy with that, either," Aidan commented, coming around to peer at the letter. "Did Ro send any candy?"

"No." Minerva smacked his arm lightly. "No, she did not."

"Aidan, I have some lemon-flavoured fudge in my tent if you want," Albus offered. "We can go get some."

"Yeah, that would be awesome! Thanks!" Aidan grinned. "I've always loved sugar."

"Lemon-flavoured fudge?" Minerva muttered incredulously as Albus walked by. "Really?"

"It's wonderfully refreshing, tart, and sweet all at once," Albus winked, taking Aidan by the shoulder. "I should get you a copy of the Honeydukes catalogue. When we're back home, you can set up monthly deliveries."

"Seriously? Oh, that's awesome," Aidan exclaimed as they walked away.

"I don't fancy seeing Aidan hopped up on too much more sugar," Callum laughed. "He'll be buzzing around non-stop."

"And you know, he'll probably sneak some to Iolanthe once she's old enough. I'm sure there's nothing like a toddler hyped up on sugar." Minerva shook her head.

"That," Callum gently punched her shoulder, "is what her Auntie Minnie is for."

"What, to take care of her on the days when she's on a sugar high?"

"Exactly." Callum smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I hope we can all go home soon."

"We will," Minerva promised, resting her head on his shoulder. "We'll make it through, all of us."

"I hope you're right," Callum murmured. "I admit that I thought this would have been over by now."

"We're close," Minerva remarked, "especially after yesterday. A few more months, perhaps, but we'll be home before Iolanthe's first birthday."

"How did you get so wise?"

"I listened to Lucy, not you."

Callum's laughter resounded around the camp, echoing around their make-shift family as they all enjoyed what little rest they could get.