A/N: I hope you like this one! It took the life out of me…and then I realized I need to get writing because I am rapidly running out of pre-written material. ;)

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Thirty-Three: February 1946

"Do we have time for a chess match before we head out?" Minerva asked Albus, tossing a towel at him as he exited the shower. They were in their usual room at the Hog's Head, hidden away the weekend after Valentine's Day. Whilst Minerva didn't see much value or importance in the Muggle holiday, Albus, being as obsessed as he was with Muggles, found it amusing. He wanted to treat Minerva to a Valentine's dinner as last year, in his own euphemistic words, they were "running around the French countryside."

"I wish we did, but alas, I do not believe so, my dear." Albus wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the wardrobe. "We're going completely à la Muggle this evening, so unless you've brought the appropriate attire, you'll have to transfigure something."

"I see," Minerva mused. She picked up her wand and ran it down the length of her lilac robes, turning it into a slightly younger version of the dress her mother had worn at Christmas. "Like this?"

"Perfect," he murmured, planting a kiss on her collarbone. "I brought my own suit for the occasion." He withdrew a Muggle suit from the wardrobe and waved his wand, allowing his magic to dress him and tie his tie with a finishing touch. "There! We're ready for a wonderful evening out on the town."

"Which town?" Minerva quirked an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on her face. Albus had insisted on planning this entire night in secret, wanting to surprise her. Like her Animagus, she was curious by nature and disapproved greatly of his secretive methods.

"I thought a night in Cardiff might be fun." Albus sat down on the bed and pulled her down to sit on his lap. "We're always hopping between London and Hogsmeade, so I thought that this would perhaps be a nice way to get off the beaten track. It's more remote than London, there are fewer people we know...what do you think, my dear?"

"I think," she kissed his forehead, "that a night spent in blissful anonymity with you sounds absolutely wonderful. Shall we go?"

"Just a moment." Albus conjured a corsage, a black orchid tinged with shades of purple. He gently slid it into place around her wrist. "Do you like it?"

Minerva blushed. "Albus, it's wonderful. I certainly didn't expect you to go all out."

"Of course I wanted to go all out!" Albus exclaimed, lifting her off of his legs and placing her gently on the floor. "It's not every day that I get to take you out to dinner as my beloved and not a former student."

"I suppose that's true enough," Minerva agreed, her nose wrinkling in distaste. They had ventured out to the Three Broomsticks once as an experiment, and sure enough, they had been interrupted no less than six times by various members of the Hogwarts staff and Minerva's former classmates. People were quick to assume that they were merely reminiscing in their expected roles of master and the protégée. As per their agreed secrecy, they never corrected anyone, but it bothered both Albus and Minerva that they could not escape their former selves.

"Now, are we ready to go?" Albus held out his arm. "We'll be apparating there, if you're comfortable."

"That seems like an awfully long way to apparate, but if you're sure you're up for it," Minerva shrugged, "then I see no reason not to. I hate the way the Floo powder smell lingers."

"I know," Albus laughed. He wrapped her arm around his. "Hold tight, my dear."

Minerva closed her eyes and prepared herself for the familiar feeling of flying through time and space. While Albus was skilled at apparition, their bond had doubled the feeling, making it that much more intense. That particular downside had been discovered the first time they had attempted side-along apparition after bonding, which had ended with Minerva vomiting for hours. She inhaled deeply as she felt the pull and burrowed herself into Albus' jacket.

When it was over, Albus ran his hand over her hair and asked, "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, thank you. I just need a moment," Minerva breathed. She opened her eyes and gingerly leaned away from Albus, straightening. "Let's eat, shall we?"

"You're always hungry," Albus laughed.

"Not all of us are able to eat the delicious meals at Hogwarts thrice a day," she replied, elbowing him gently. "Where are you taking me?"

"There's a lovely restaurant on the edge of town that I have often visited. In fact," his voice softened, "I actually believe it's owned and operated by various members of the Creevey family. Part of the Muggle branch, if I'm not mistaken."

"Charlotte's family?" Minerva's breath hitched. "This will be a wonderful way to feel close to her again. Thank you, Albus."

He kissed the back of her hand and intertwined their fingers. They walked the rest of the way in silence, merely enjoying each other's company. When they approached the restaurant, Albus held her back.

"Do you know what the name of the restaurant is?" he asked her softly.

"Is it in Welsh?" Minerva frowned, peering out from behind her spectacles. "I'm afraid my knowledge of the Welsh language is very limited."

"The restaurant is named Seren, which is Welsh for "star,"" Albus replied. "It seems the entirety of the Creevey family likes to stargaze."

"Do they all like to take photos as well?" Minerva laughed lightly before her eyes widened. "Will there be pictures of Charlotte in here?"

"Years ago, they had a photo wall of all of their family members," Albus replied. "If it's still up, I'm sure she'll be on there."

"How did you know this place existed?" Minerva inquired as they approached the entry.

"I came here twice with Nicolas, and then when I visited the Creevey house to deliver Charlotte's letter, her father told me in no uncertain terms that I should visit his family's restaurant." Albus smiled at the memory and took the door handle in hand. "After you, my dear."

"Thank you," she murmured, stepping through into the entryway. The restaurant had a vibe that was a pleasing combination of airiness and space, of light and dark. She grinned as she looked at the ceiling, taking note of the stars glued to the roof.

"Ah, I admit this is a secret of mine," Albus whispered. "This may be where I got the idea for the Great Hall. Just wait for a moment while I see the maître d'hôtel about our reservation."

"Of course." Minerva nodded and turned to the left. Her breath hitched as she noticed all of the photos on the wall. Blinking tears away, she found one of Charlotte. She slowly traced it and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Char. We're all okay—you'll be happy to know Aidan is okay. Thank you for looking after us, from where ever you are."

"My dear?" Albus' voice broke her out of her reverie, and she spun on her heel, surreptitiously wiping tears away. "Our table is ready."

"Perfect." She took his outstretched arm and walked alongside him to their table. Once they had both ordered, Minerva sighed contentedly, running her finger along the rim of her wine glass.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Albus smirked.

"It's very nice to be here with you," Minerva admitted. "In a place where we can just be Minerva and Albus, not Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore. It's easier to be comfortable when we can be open and honest."

"There is something rather marvellous about taking your arm in public and not having a care in the world who sees it."

"It feels like a weight is off of our shoulders," Minerva agreed. "We have made it through half the school year without anyone being the wiser."

"And," Albus paused, taking a sip of his bourbon, "Lucy and Callum are becoming more comfortable with us, I reckon."

Minerva thought about it and couldn't find any evidence to the contrary. Even if Albus' offer to go on double dates had been in jest, the four of them had enjoyed a few dinners together. Callum was warming up to the idea of Minerva and Albus' relationship, slowly but surely, and whenever his discomfort got the best of him, Lucy had always smoothed over any resulting tension.

"Yes, I believe they are." When Minerva finally spoke, her voice was hopeful. "Perhaps next we could tell Ro and Poppy. Ro will tease me to no end, but Poppy has long suspected that I have feelings for you."

"Has she now?" Albus' tone was light, but his eyes betrayed his worry. "Does she suspect you felt this way during your time at school?"

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "I'd be a lot happier if everyone stopped asking if this took place while I was your student."

"I beg your pardon?"

Minerva sighed, deeply and heavily. "Poppy told me at the hospital in France that she thought she saw the beginnings of something in Inverness. So no, to my knowledge, she does not have any reason to suspect anything at Hogwarts. And," she continued, stopping his response, "I can sense that you're still worried that someone will try to find reasons to haul us before the Wizengamot."

"My dear, there is a reason to bring us before the Wizengamot. I technically violated my contract. I'm merely trying to suss out if people think this began before or after your time as a student had come to its conclusion."

"In the spirit of honesty, Callum and Lucy both asked. I told them that nothing happened. I'm not surprised that they asked; however, they're family and are more worried about my well-being than anyone else is."

"Well, in the spirit of honesty, Callum also asked me," Albus admitted. At Minerva's inquiring brow, he continued, "When we were tracking you and Grindelwald down, he essentially asked me if our relationship had been consensual and legal."

"Oh, my brother, the Auror." Minerva smiled down at her lap, shaking her head at her older brother.

"Well, my dear, if they're the only two that know about us that thought to ask that, then I would say that is good news. The Flamels never asked me, and even if they suspect, I highly doubt they'd look to turn us in."

"I should hope not." Minerva hesitated for a moment, inwardly debating the benefits of telling him that Lavinia had the medical evidence to prove their indiscretion. She decided against it, instead saying, "I think we're out of the woods, truly. If we tell my family this year and then open it up a bit more broadly next year—for your colleagues, friends, those sorts of people—I think we'll be flying high in clear skies."

"You're ever the optimist, my dear," Albus responded softly. His eyes were kind, but there was a fear within them that Minerva often saw but could never quite place. She didn't know if it was a fear that those they loved wouldn't accept them, or if it was that he didn't want to tell anyone in the first place. The former she could understand, but the latter made her uneasy.

Minerva did her best to pry—gently, but pry all the same. "I don't believe it's optimism. You once told me realism hurts less. Realistically, the people who know about us have come to love and accept our relationship in time. Are you scared others won't?"

Albus saw right through her. "Are you scared I won't keep my wartime promise?"

"Why do you use 'wartime' as a qualifier? Does that make it any less of a promise?"

They stared at each other firmly, each able to feel the beginnings of tension roiling through their bond. Their waiter finally interrupted them, bringing Albus' haddock and Minerva's salmon.

"Will that be all?" The waiter asked hesitantly, almost unsure if he should leave them alone. "Can I bring you anything else?"

Minerva broke first, turning to look at the man. Through a graceful smile, she said, "No, thank you. This looks lovely." He nodded and left at a pace, leaving Minerva to release a weary breath behind him. Albus opened his mouth, and again, Minerva waved him off. "Albus, leave it. Tonight is supposed to be nice. Let's let it rest for a different night, all right?"

Albus bit his lip. It was uncharacteristic of Minerva to bow away from an argument in favour of resuming it later; she usually preferred to deal with her demons at first sight. But, he did understand the desire for a wonderful night, and he too wanted a night in public, free of scratching their scars.

It never occurred to him that he was rarely a man who got what he wanted.

Just as Minerva was piercing her first bite with her fork, a woman in her late thirties approached their table with all the subtlety of a herd of elephants.

"Hello there! This is a bit mortifying, but I just had to ask," the woman started, "but are you the Albus Dumbledore?"

Minerva and Albus exchanged a glance before he confirmed it. "Yes, I am."

"Oh, my stars! You have no idea how exciting it is to have you here! I'm Carys Creevey. My husband and I run this place," Carys added, blushing. Her blonde hair fell in curtains around her face, and Minerva felt sick at how much she was reminded of Charlotte. Carys took no notice of the paling Scotswoman before her and continued talking in a hushed tone. "My husband and I are both magical, and aside from our late niece, no one else in the family is. It was awkward when the war was going on, I'll have you know, to come up with excuses to see family so we could cast protective spells over their houses! So I have you to thank for relieving that tension!"

"Ah, well, you're welcome," Albus stammered. "I believe I speak for everyone when I say we're all happy the war is over."

"Yes, but not all of us can say we ended it, now can we?" Carys winked conspiratorially. "To end the war—to defeat Grindelwald and have the courage to do so alone? I'm in awe of you, and we all are forever in your debt."

Minerva knew that this was a relative of Charlotte's, but even still, the anger bubbling underneath her skin prickled like a cactus. As much as she often pushed this particular source of conflict aside, Minerva knew that deep down, she had not yet forgiven Albus for falsifying the end of the war to the press. "Yes," Minerva began, her voice pinched, "we are all very thankful to Albus."

"I'm so sorry, dear," the woman apologized. "How rude of me to only speak to Mr. Dumbledore. What's your name?"

"My name is Minerva," she began, "and if you wouldn't mind—"

"Minerva? The Minerva McGonagall?"

Again, Albus and Minerva locked eyes. This was unchartered territory. No one had ever before taken note of Minerva. "Yes, I am."

"I am in awe of your bravery, truly! To be captured like that and to stare evil right in its face! Now, the papers didn't tell us this, but perhaps you'll indulge me," Carys breathed, leaning over the table. "How did you manage to be captured, Minerva? Was no one looking out for you? Didn't you have a partner or someone during the war? I don't know how wars work, mind you, in terms of logistics, but I'm positive that someone should have been taking care of you. I know our Ministry can be incompetent, but I doubt that it would let teenage girls wander into battle alone!"

As Carys kept talking, Minerva could feel Albus' anger, fear, and regret coil in his stomach as hers rolled alongside his emotions. She knew Albus still felt guilty that she had been captured because of her association with him, and as she spent more time with him, Minerva sensed that Albus didn't like to be accused of failure.

"Carys?" Minerva interrupted Charlotte's aunt with more gentleness than she thought possible. "While we both appreciate you coming over and introducing yourself, we were rather hoping to have a meal without reminiscing about the war."

Carys blushed a deep scarlet. "Oh, I am sorry. I had no intention of offending you. It's just not every day you have a war hero in your own restaurant! Two war heroes, no less!"

"We understand," Albus said calmly. "It's no trouble, but Minerva is right. We would like to get back to our meal."

"Of course, of course!" Carys' eyes lit up. "Wait...are you two on a date?" There was a brief moment of stunned silence before the blonde shook her head, "Sorry, that's definitely none of my business. But if you are," she winked, "I think that's a wonderful development, and I can't wait for you to tell the world. When you're ready, of course. In the meantime, dessert is on the house." She walked away, a slight spring evident in her step.

"Well," Minerva said, turning back to Albus. "How's your fish?"

Albus offered a neutral response, and the dinner continued in much the same manner. For better or for worse, Carys had poked at each of their underbellies: Minerva's remaining anger over Albus' omission of truth, and Albus' inability to keep those he loved safe. Then, of course, their central argument still presented like a chasm between them: who should know about their relationship, and when.

After they had eaten a rather delicious dessert—on the house, as promised—the two silently agreed to bring their evening to an early end, forgoing a nightcap. It had been such an uncomfortable few hours that Albus asked Minerva if he wanted her to drop her in London, or continue on to the Hog's Head with him. Aghast, she said she wanted to stay with him. Their time together was sparse as it was; even if they would spend the night fighting, she wanted to spend her evening with him. Minerva didn't know if that was a sign that she had lost herself in love, or simply the knowledge that their bond would keep her up all night with their unresolved quarrel anyways. As they walked back to the apparition point, they clutched tightly to the other's arm, and Minerva knew it was as much in desperation as it was in stewing anger.

Once they had arrived at their little room and Albus had ensured Minerva wasn't sick, he sighed. He cast a silencing spell on the room and transfigured his suit back into his regular wizarding attire, wrapping his cloak around himself tightly.

"So, my dear," Albus sighed again, "would I be correct in presuming we have something to discuss?"

"Quite a bit, I wager." Minerva sat down on the bed, kicking her high-heeled shoes off. "Where do we start?"

"Well, where would you like to start?"

"Oh no, Albus." She shook her head. "Don't turn this back to me. You can make this decision. You've made so many others for us, of much greater consequence."

"And there it is. I garner you'd like to speak about what happened at the end."

"That would be nice," Minerva replied sardonically, "seeing as we never actually spoke about it. Not in any real, meaningful way."

"I can only apologize so many times, Minerva."

"An apology only goes so far. You need to take tangible action, Albus."

"What kind of tangible action? There's not a guidebook for this sort of thing."

"Well," Minerva considered slowly, "you could go to the press. Issue a retraction."

Albus stared at her, dumbfounded. "Minerva, that would wreck my credibility, and therefore, the credibility of the education we offer at Hogwarts."

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus. It wouldn't go that far."

"Don't be immature, Minerva!" He rarely shouted, and it shocked her to hear it. "We have talked at great lengths about the types of changes we would like to see implemented in the curriculum. If this were to come out and drag my name through the mud with it, any progressive change I made would be written off. For example, the governors would laugh at any argument I could articulate in favour of a Muggle Studies class. Think of what we could do for the greater—"

"Albus, if you cite the greater good, I swear to Merlin—"

"It's true! My credibility and reputation can be used to implement real change. My reputation forces people to listen to me. If you take those away from me, no one will ever listen to me again."

"What does that matter?" Minerva whispered. "I would listen to you. Doesn't my opinion matter?"

"Of course it does, but this affects my ability to not only affect change, but earn a living! The governors would surely dismiss me, and then where would I be able to find work? My only option would be to wash Aberforth's dishes! This affects my ability to provide for you." Albus' voice broke. "There's a ripple effect beyond just the truth, my dear. Not to mention my wand. The most attentive of people know that my wand changed—there'd be some kind of hoopla over me handing my wand to you."

"Wait just one minute." Minerva held up a finger as realization struck. "Why did you have the wand, anyway? I know you said the press believed you to be the conqueror because you had his wand, but I thought that I was still unconscious when they brought me to the hospital."

"You were."

"So, when did you retrieve the wand, Albus? I remember dropping all three of them." She paled, not wanting to believe the obvious truth in front of her. "Albus, please tell me you didn't pick the wand up before checking to ensure I was alive."

"I wouldn't put it in precisely those terms, Tabby."

"Then what terms would you put it in? This clearly shows your priorities." Minerva released a strangled laugh. "My lord, I could never come first with you, could I? It's just not possible."

"Minerva, how could you say such a thing?"

"Is this why you're so reluctant to tell anyone about us? I see fear in your eyes every time we talk about it. Is it because you don't want anyone thinking you're a regular human with emotions? With people you love that love you in return?" As she spoke, the argument formed clearly in her mind. Whether she was right or wrong, it made sense to her. "You don't want anyone to think your power doesn't come first to you."

"That is bollocks, and you know it. The more people that know, the more risk there is to you! Even before the war, I had enemies, and I'm sure I have even more now. I cannot have people I care about, not publicly, Minerva. And what would happen if the public were to discover your power and your role at the end of the war? You would have double the target on your back! Besides," Albus added defensively, "we told Lucy and Callum when we got home."

"Callum already knew!" Minerva shouted back, leaping off of the bed so she could jab her finger in his face.

"I thought you were fine with us taking it slowly! We decided to be cautious, remember?"

"We didn't decide. You decided, and I agreed. Our original decision was to tell everyone when we got home from the front. In fact, you promised me," Minerva said, her voice shaking, "that we could tell people about us when we got home!" "

"That was before I gained a new level of notoriety for defeating Grindelwald!"

"Maybe if you hadn't taken the bloody credit for what I did," she spat, "that wouldn't be a problem!"

"I thought you said we did it together!"

"Oh, so now you care about semantics!"

"Minerva." Albus' eyes closed as he sunk onto the bed, slumping into the spot she had just vacated. "Even if the world knew that we had accomplished this together, you'd still be made a target. In our current situation, I don't want to be the reason for that."

"You don't get to play protective professor with me, Albus. Not now, not anymore. You can't try to protect me and then decide that I have no say in all subsequent conversations. I understand your desire to keep me out of the limelight, truly, but I don't know why on earth it bothers you this much." She fell to her knees, grasping his hands in hers. Minerva's voice was hoarse when she spoke again. "Whose? Whose target will I be? Albus, please, darling. Whose?"

Albus opened his mouth as if to give his fear a name, but in the end, he simply said, "There will be enemies, Minerva. You know that."

"I'm sure there will be, but we need to face them together. I refuse to be the dutiful wife who sits at the school in your absence and who warms your bed when you get home from saving the world." Minerva blushed upon realizing she had used the word "wife," but she had needed to make the point. "Albus, my love, I need you to understand something. I wouldn't have had a problem with you taking ownership over it if I had thought you had done it for the right reasons," Minerva sighed, sounding wiser than her years. "It's the fact that I know you did it out of glory—out of a desire for power—that makes it such a hard pill to swallow."

"I know," Albus responded, sounding miserable. "I know."

"And," Minerva continued, "it's the fact that you need to make a decision for yourself. I am a private person, but I wish to be open with the people that I love. If that isn't for you, then that's fine; however, then we need to have a different conversation."

"I don't want to lose you, my dear. This is just so...challenging for me." Albus' voice broke. "Oh, this was not how tonight was supposed to be."

"Tell me, Albus, how should it have been, hmm? Should we have managed to avoid someone who knew who we were and precisely what we have accomplished?" He could practically see the exasperation dripping off her voice, painting the walls in his misery. "I doubt we'll be able to do that for the rest of our lives!"

"As usual, you're quite right. I had simply hoped that we might have a conversation about our future." At her raised eyebrow, he added, "Such as moving in together once you've finished school. Perhaps an engagement in the next few years?"

"Albus, I would love to have that conversation with you, but I don't think you're ready for it. You need to determine if you can be in the type of relationship that I want for myself. If you can, then we can work on getting past what happened with Grindelwald. And then we can talk about those things. All right?" Minerva rose from the ground, waved her shoes back onto her feet, and kissed the top of his head. "I think it best if I go home tonight. I need some space. Thank you for dinner and your thoughtful choice of restaurant. It was lovely."

She took some floo powder and entered the fireplace. The last vision Albus caught of her was a wry smile, but by the time she made it home, Minerva had tears streaming down her face.

Albus Dumbledore knew he was an intelligent but flawed man. He also knew that he was a man prone to a quick temper, one who tended to put his reputation before all else, including those he loved. If he were to speak with a Muggle psychologist, they would most likely tell him that he cared about his reputation because of the harsh whispers he had endured due to his father's stint in prison. He knew that he deeply loved Minerva, but he was frightened of what he would have to lose in order to have her the way that she wanted. All he knew was that she had given him an ultimatum.

So, knowing all this about himself and his current situation, he kept one eye firmly on the future. He had sent a bouquet of thistles to Minerva. She usually didn't care much for that sort of performative, romantic gesture, but he thought she might appreciate her country's national flower. Attached to the flowers, Albus had written a note into which he had poured his heart out, more so than ever before. Once he had received a response that said "Thank you," and their bond had finally stopped undulating with her anger, he considered it to mean that while she was still upset, he hadn't done irrevocable damage to their relationship. Before Christmas, when he had told Minerva he wanted a future with her, he had meant it. Their argument had made Albus realize that his life was on far shakier ground than he would like, and he wanted Minerva. Forever. So, he reached out to Callum for advice. And permission.

"Are you bloody joking?" Callum's voice was aghast as he stared at Albus, whose beard was shadowed due to the Muggle bar's poor lighting. "You want my permission to propose to Minerva? My baby sister?"

"Yes. I thought asking for your permission would be more appropriate than asking for your father's, given our history." Albus traced the box of the engagement ring he had purchased, suddenly nervous. He had known that Callum might say no, but his Gryffindor bravery hadn't allowed him to think too much about that possibility.

"Do you want to propose only because Valentine's Day went to hell in a handbasket?" Callum questioned his would-be brother-in-law. "You do realize that Minnie told Lucy and I about everything, don't you?"

Albus swallowed roughly. "I had thought she might. She has always been very close to the two of you. Something I envy, truth be told. We're not all close with our siblings."

"I don't care for the sanctimony, not today, Albus," Callum sighed, rubbing at his brow wearily. "While I still don't know the full extent of everything that happened during that final battle with Grindelwald, I know enough to be aware that Minnie hates talking about it. I thought," he choked, "that Grindelwald had taken advantage of her, abused her in some way. But, she never seems to get angry at him. Only at you."

"That sounds more like an accusation than an observation, Callum," Albus said softly.

"Interpret it however you like, but I know there's some wedge between you as a result of that night that won't be fixed by a proposal, Albus. You can't gloss over something that big with a ring, no matter the size."

"You don't even know what it is!" Albus exclaimed, only slightly ashamed that he let his emotions take over.

"No," Callum rose his voice in response, speaking harshly, "no, I don't. However, I know my sister, and I know that whatever happened brought her to tears!"

Albus shrunk back in his seat and closed his eyes. "She cried?"

"Like a river." Callum didn't mince words, glaring harshly at his companion. "Minnie didn't tell us too much. All we know is that you had a rather heated disagreement on Valentine's Day about an open wound that stems from the war."

"We went for dinner," Albus revealed slowly, unsure as to whether Minerva had indeed told her brother everything, "and the owner of the restaurant knew who we were. She made comments about some wartime events that are, yes, sore subjects between Minerva and me."

"I see," Callum harrumphed, unimpressed. "If you want my permission, you'll tell me what the hell happened."

"I thought you said she had told you everything."

"She told us about your fight and her parting words to you. Minnie still refuses to tell us about her role in capturing Grindelwald."

"You're not so cruel, Callum." Albus stalled for time. "That's her decision to tell you, just as much as it is mine."

"When it comes to Minnie, I'll be as cruel as I need to protect her. Besides," he added, "I won't tell if you won't."

"I suppose at the very least," Albus sighed, "I did tell you I would explain why Grindelwald had such an interest in hurting me."

"That would be a start," Callum agreed.

"And then," Albus proposed, "you can tell me what you already know, and I'll fill in the gaps." At Callum's nod, Albus willingly talked about his romance with Gellert for the first time in his life. He explained his domestic situation and his desire to escape—his desire to be more that was supported only by Gellert. Albus confessed that he had fuelled Gellert's interest in the dark arts, and that while he had become uneasy about the path they were on, he had only truly broken free of Gellert once his sister had died.

"Lord almighty," Callum breathed when Albus had finished. "I have no shame in telling you that I had a list of suspicions, and this scenario was not on it."

"I hope I didn't disappoint," Albus joked meekly. "In any event, there you have it: Gellert and I were lovers for an influential time in our youth, and he believed our business wasn't quite finished. Minerva told me that he was able to learn about our relationship during the war, and so Gellert thought it would be a fitting conclusion to our saga."

"And Minerva knows all of this?"

Albus nodded. "What's more, she has seen a few of my memories. I'm not hiding my past from her, Callum. I'll admit that she discovered the truth while still in school; while I'm not perfect, I like to believe I would have told her before we came to the front. Clearly, my past put her at risk."

"I'll say," Callum snorted. He aimlessly ran his finger around the top of his beer bottle, the action reminding Albus of Minerva. "Thank you for telling me that, Albus, truly. I know that can't have been easy, and rest assured, your secret stays with me."

"You can tell Lucy if you really need to," Albus said hesitantly. "I don't want you to have to lie to her again on my account, and I know she'll be worried about Minerva."

"While I appreciate that, she'll understand if I tell her that I find your story to be both satisfactory and believable. For what it's worth, I do believe you," Callum added. "But while I now have a better understanding of how she was captured, I still don't know what happened that is causing you two to argue like two hippogriffs in heat."

"Well, you heard about our fight." Albus' voice was resigned and weary. "I'm sure Minerva told you that someone—one of the owners of the restaurant—had spoken to us about our respective roles in the war."

"Yes, and this is a problem because?" Callum clearly was not interested in Albus' tactics of delay.

"Because the narrative pushed by the press is false and grossly underestimates Minerva's role in the war effort. This narrative," Albus continued before Callum could interject, "was only created out of my own actions and was perpetuated because I didn't see a reason to correct it."

Callum stared at his companion. "It wasn't you who captured Grindelwald, was it?"

"While I will maintain that it was a joint effort, the end of the war is mostly Minerva's doing."

"So you took credit for what my sister did. Is that the only reason for your argument?" Callum's green eyes, so much like Minerva's, bore into Albus'.

Albus shook his head. "No. We also seem to be in disagreement over who to tell about our relationship, and when."

"Let me guess." Callum pursed his lips, and Albus could sense why he made such a good Auror: he could glean the whole picture from the smallest of snapshots. "The story pushed by the press—the story that is already a sore spot for my sister—has changed your mind about bringing your relationship into the open, hasn't it?"

"Yes."

"You're lucky I'm not the one dating you; I would have hexed you and then thrown you into the Black Lake. Christ, Albus, that's terrible. And you want my permission to marry her? Absolutely not."

"Callum, please," Albus begged. "I made a mistake. A horrible mistake, with millions of repercussions that I know I will have to make up for for the rest of my life, but it was a mistake nonetheless."

"You misunderstand me, Albus." Callum shook his head. "I'm not giving you my permission because it's not mine to give. If everything between the two of you was perfectly fine, if you two were happy in love and in life, I would have laughed at your question and said, "sure, but it's Minerva's answer that matters." Now? You don't have my permission because I don't think she's forgiven you. And if she hasn't forgiven you, I can't welcome you into my family.

"I remember when Diana was injured," Callum continued, his voice softer, "and we sat in your office. Minerva and I were both scared, but I can assure you that I was the only one of us that felt like a failure that day. It was my job to protect both of them. I failed Diana by not being more aware; I should have seen that those snakes were up to something. And now that Diana isn't here, it's my job to protect Minerva. I hope you understand that this is nothing against you or your relationship. Despite my earlier reluctance, I don't mind having you around." His lips curled into a wry smile. "But I know Minerva, and I know that if you let it slip that I had approved of this, she'll cast aside any doubts she has because she believes in me and my judgment. So, Albus, I suppose I'll leave you with this: fix things with Minnie, and if and only if you feel you have earned her forgiveness, then you'll know you have my permission. Besides, at the end of the day, all that matters is her acceptance."

"Callum, I'm trying. I don't know what to do. I'm at a loss."

"Albus, I'm not the one you should be asking. Ask her." The younger man pulled back his sleeve and looked at his watch, sighing. "I'm sorry, Albus, but I have to go. I told Lucy I would be home in time to help put Iolanthe to bed."

"Of course, of course," Albus murmured, a small taste of bitterness seeping into his tone. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"Anytime, Albus." Callum stood, threw a handful of coins on the table, clapped Albus on the back, and strode out of the restaurant.

Their waitress appeared almost instantly, sweeping the money into her palm. "Would you like anything else, sir?"

"Another drink, please," Albus sighed. He had a lot to sort out and, for the first time in a long while, his incredible mind didn't feel up to the task.