CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE INVITATION
~~~
Several months passed. September faded into October, October into Novemeber, November into December, and December into a damp, dreary January. The Ministry of Magic was no closer to finding the person that killed Armando Dippet, although Noah McCarthy was convinced that Albus Dumbledore had a hand in the murder. At this point, no one was taking him seriously anymore, and rumor had it Tobias Hawkins was searching for a replacement.
Then there was the matter of the war. The war the Muggles had named World War II was getting progressively worse. Winston Churchill, the British prime minister, had made contact with Hawkins several times, asking him to get involved. Hawkins disliked not being able to give Churchill an answer, but he was afraid that even if the wizards did join the Muggles, their enemy would get wizards on his side, too. The best way to keep that from happening was to keep wizards out of the war completely, but on the other hand, how did they know the enemy did not already have the help of wizards? Could one society survive without the other?
Things had only slightly improved at Hogwarts since the death of the headmaster. Fear rested in all of their hearts, a fear that would never be lifted until the murderer was found and the matter of the war was resolved. Many students and faculty members, especially the ones with Muggle blood in them, knew people who had died in the war, and no one in Natalie Cypher's family had heard from her brother since early November. The Muggle Studies class had never been more popular.
Hawkins had eased up on the faculty partner thing for everyone except Grindelwald. He was still convinced that the headmaster was in danger, and didn't want to take any chances. On the outside, Grindelwald seemed to be growing irritated with this system, but secretly, he was glad Hawkins insisted on keeping it. It kept him above suspicion, for one thing, and for another, allowed him more proximity to Minerva McGonagall than he would under other circumstances. As he and Minerva grew closer, she would become as easy to manipulate as Dippet had...
~~~
"What are you doing?"
Those were the first words out of Minerva McGonagall's mouth when she walked into Quinn Grindelwald's office after classes one day in early January and saw the headmaster hanging upside down by his knees from a bar above a window, reading a letter. Grindelwald sighed. "It's a long story," he answered, and dropped down from the bar. Blood rushed out of his head, and he was overcome by a temporary sensation of dizziness.
He stumbled to the side, and Minerva caught him before he could fall. "Thank you," he said, standing up straight. He then smiled and added, "Perhaps I should come down slower next time."
"Perhaps you should not have been up there in the first place," Minerva repeated. "What were you doing, anyway?"
Grindelwald sighed and showed her the letter he had been reading. "It's that wretched Noah McCarthy again," he said. "I felt a headache coming on as soon as I saw who it was from, and decided to save my mind the trouble and give myself the headache beforehand."
"You're a strange man, Quinn Grindelwald," she replied. "What is McCarthy harping about this week?"
"Albus," Grindelwald answered. Dumbledore had told both of them about his interrogation the day after it had taken place. "He's convinced that he's guilty, that bas... illegitimate son."
Minerva chuckled softly. "You can say it, Quinn. He's a bastard."
"I can't understand why McCarthy is so set on pinning the murder on Albus," he said. "I want them to find Armando's killer, too, but not when innocent lives are destroyed along the way." Then, his eyes lit up, as if something had just occured to him. "What if it was McCarthy who did it?"
She shook her head. "I doubt Noah McCarthy has ever so much as jaywalked. Anyway, how could he have gotten up there without anyone seeing him?" She glanced from side to side, as if they were making sure they were alone, and then whispered, "To tell you the truth, I think there might be an insider."
"An insider?" Grindelwald asked. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"First of all, an attacker could never have gotten up here without a password."
"Good point. Any guesses as to who it might be?"
Minerva shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is that it's not Albus, no matter what McCarthy thinks."
Suddenly, an idea came to him. Grindelwald doubted that Minerva suspected him as the insider, so he could probably find some way to twist that to his advantage. For a moment, he thought he could pin the murder on Tom Riddle, but quickly pushed that notion aside. Riddle may not have liked the fact that Dippet had been involved with Minerva, but he would not have resorted to murder. Besides, it had been determined that Riddle had indeed been stunned before Dippet was killed, and even with the use of truth serum, his story remained the same. Tom Riddle did not kill Armando Dippet, but someone else did, and with a little bit of help from him, the world would know who.
Or rather, they would think they knew.
"Indeed," Grindelwald said. "Keep your eyes open. Perhaps the guilty party will reveal themself soon."
"But not at the expense of another life, I hope."
"Let's hope not. Do you have papers to correct?"
She nodded. "Essays from the second-years."
"Go ahead and use my desk. I've got to go over some more letters, and I don't need my desk for that."
"All right," Minerva said, "but on one condition. Keep your feet on the ground."
Grindelwald laughed. "It's a deal."
He took the stack of letters from his desk and carried them over to an armchair. He sat down, heaved a sigh, and began sorting through the pile. One letter toward the middle caught his eye, and he opened it and read it. He was almost ready to dismiss it as nothing when another idea hit him. Yes. This was perfect. After all, now was as good a time as any to say good-bye to Hogwarts.
Grindelwald smiled to himself and put the letter in his pocket. He wondered how the others would react when the murderer turned out to be someone they never would have suspected.
~~~
Albus Dumbledore was on his way to the library later that night to do some research when a familiar voice caused him to come to a halt. He turned around and saw Grindelwald walking toward him. "Hello, Quinn," Dumbledore said. "Where's Minerva?"
"Staff room," Grindelwald answered.
"Shouldn't she be with you?" Dumbledore asked. He'd caught Grindelwald gazing at Minerva with a lusty look in his eyes several times over the last few weeks, and it irritated him greatly. When he mentioned it to Minerva, she said she hadn't noticed.
"It's all right," Grindelwald said dismissively. "I just had to find you. This won't take long."
"What is it?"
Grindelwald pulled something out of his pocket. It was a piece of paper. "Tobias Hawkins sent me this earlier today," he said. "The American Muggles have reelected their president, and the inaugural ball is in two weeks. Prime Minister Churchill informed Minister Hawkins that President Roosevelt desires their attendance, but Hawkins will be unable to go. Churchill asked him to pass the invitation on to a person of his choosing, and Hawkins selected me."
"No, Quinn, I don't mind if you take Minerva," Dumbledore said sarcastically. "Go right ahead."
"Actually, I was going to ask you if you would attend the ball in my place."
Dumbledore wasn't sure he had heard correctly. "What?"
"It could be fun," Grindelwald said. "It would give you a chance to meet delegates from both the wizard and Muggle world, and who knows? You might even have fun."
He shook his head. "I doubt it."
"Oh, come on. It's a ball. Everyone loves balls."
"I don't dance."
"You can learn. You have two weeks."
"No, no, you heard me wrong," Dumbledore said. "I can dance; I just choose not to."
"And why not?"
"I can never find a dance partner."
"So take Minerva. I'm sure she'd enjoy it, and I don't want to send her over there by herself," Grindelwald said. "Come on, Albus. What do you have to lose?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Fine. I'll take it."
"Excellent. I'll tell Minerva."
He turned around and began to walk away, but was stopped when Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "No," the Transfiguration instructor said. "I will."
~~~
Minerva didn't leave the staff room until she was ready to go to bed. She'd heard Dumbledore was in the library and decided to head down there to say good night. However, just outside the staff room, she spotted something that would impede her progress: Tom Riddle. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, "What do you want, Riddle?"
"Oh, so I'm Riddle now, am I?" he returned. "Whatever happened to calling me Tom?"
"I only call people I like by their first names."
"You used to like me," Riddle said, stepping closer to her.
"But never as much as you liked me," Minerva replied, backing up, and then frowning once she realized she was against the wall.
Riddle continued to close in on her. "I think you did," he said, "and never realized it."
He was close enough to touch her now, and did, on the cheek. She slapped his hand away. "And I think you're just a silly little boy with a crush."
Riddle took several steps closer to her, and then placed both his hands on the wall, trapping her in place. "You're only three years older than me, Minerva," he said. "Don't go thinking you're all grown up just because you've suddenly become Dumbledore's little whore. In a few months, he'll get tired of you and move on to someone else. Did you honestly think that a man his age would have any real interest in you?"
"Someone like you could never begin to comprehend what Albus and I see in each other," Minerva said.
"He's that good, eh?"
"For your information, Albus and I haven't even discussed anything remotely related to what you're implying. Wherever you're going with this, you're wrong."
"You know, Min, you're not as strong as you think you are."
She was unable to respond, for as soon as he spoke those words, his mouth was covering hers in a kiss filled with lust. Minerva tried to push him away, but he was too strong. Riddle pressed his body against her, and then slid his hands into her robes. He was just starting to touch her in places no woman wants to be touched by a man she despises when did the only thing she could think of - bit that snakelike tongue of his that was swimming around her mouth.
Riddle was so surprised that he stumbled backwards. "Bitch," he hissed, and slapped her across the face. He tried to grab her again, but she had vanished. In her place was a cat. The cat ran under his legs, and when it was a safe distance away, transformed back into Minerva. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting about her Animagus abilities.
In the blink of an eye, she had her wand out and was pointing it at him. "Tom Marvolo Riddle," she said in a tone of voice that was soft, but filled with bitterness, "if you ever touch me again, I swear on the sword of Godric Gryffindor that I will kill you."
"You wouldn't kill me," Riddle muttered to himself as she walked away.
She stopped walking, turned around, and said, "Yes, I would."
He slapped his forehead. Damn that acute hearing of hers.
~~~
After her encounter with Riddle, Minerva wasn't too enthusiastic about seeing anyone, but she thought she should say good night to Dumbledore anyway. His mood lately hadn't been exceptionally great, and she had a feeling it had something to do with her forming friendship with Grindelwald. She was almost certain that she truly loved Dumbledore, but she didn't know how their relationship was going to last if he kept acting so jealous every time she so much as spoke to another man. It didn't bother her at all if Dumbledore spent time with, say, Natalie Cypher, who was friendly and amusing in addition to being quite attractive. Minerva trusted him, but she wasn't so sure if he trusted her.
She was walking down the hall toward the library when she saw someone coming from that direction. When the person got closer, she saw that it was Dumbledore. He saw her, too, and quickened his pace to reach her faster. He smiled at her, but his smile faded when he got a closer look at her. "Minerva," he said, "what happened to you? You- you're bleeding!"
She then noticed a stinging sensation coming from her lips, and brought her hand to the painful area. When she pulled it away, she saw blood on her fingers. She must have sustained the injury when Riddle slapped her. "I had a run-in with Riddle on my way over."
"Indeed," he said, eyeing her carefully. "What happened?"
Minerva let out a sigh and summarized the incident. By the time she was finished, it was obvious that Dumbledore was fighting to keep control of himself. "How dare he?" he asked. "That... that... You should have broken his kneecaps."
"Yes, and gotten arrested," she replied. "Knowing Noah McCarthy, he probably would have interpreted that as an attempt to get past Riddle so I could kill Quinn."
Dumbledore rolled his eyes and nodded. "That's true. I'm sorry."
"For what? It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't like you could have stopped it from happening."
He ripped a piece of fabric from his robes and dabbed at the cut on her lip. "It should not have happened to you, or anyone, for that matter." He fought the urge to take her in his arms and hold her tightly. He doubted she would want any close physical contact with anyone so soon after being violated.
As it turned out, even the simple action of cleaning her cut was enough to make her flinch. "I'm sorry," she said when he pulled his hand away. "I don't know what's come over me." She closed her eyes and silently reminded herself that this was Albus Dumbledore, not Tom Riddle, and he would never, ever hurt her. She couldn't let Riddle get to her. If she let fear of him rule her life, then he won. She had to prove to him - and herself - that she wasn't afraid.
"I understand." He gave her the cloth. "Here."
She thanked him and wiped at the cut. She then noticed that he was looking at her strangely, as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he should. Finally, she could stand his gaze no longer, and asked, "Is something wrong, Albus?"
"You mean outside of the obvious fact that just when I thought nothing could make me dislike Tom Riddle any more than I already did, he proved me wrong?"
"Yes, besides that," she answered. "You seem different lately, almost like... like you're not telling me something." She paused, then said, "It's Quinn, isn't it?"
He sighed and turned away from her. "I don't understand, Minerva. This isn't natural for me. You mean so much to me, and after everything that's happened... if I lost you, be it to life, death, or another man, I don't know what I would do."
So that's what this was about. She placed her hands on his shoulders and laid her head against his back. "I love you," she whispered, "and only you."
He turned around, and for a few moments, the entire world around them ceased to exist as they looked into each other's eyes. Then Minerva smiled and said, "I would kiss you, but there's the small matter of this cut."
Dumbledore smiled, too, and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, too." Then, he remembered the Muggle ball, and said, "Listen. The American Muggles reelected their president, and they want delegates from the wizarding world at the inaugural ball in two weeks. Minister Hawkins had the initial invitation, but he cannot be there for some reason or another, so he passed it on to Quinn, who is also unable to attend. Quinn extended the invitation to me. Care to come along and make the experience endurable?"
Minerva shrugged. "Why not? We can suffer through it together."
"Excellent," he said. "I'll go tell Quinn."
"Mind if I come along?"
He took her hand and kissed it. "Well, if you insist."
They began walking through the school hand in hand. Then Minerva laughed and said, "You know, Albus, we're acting like students."
He kissed her on the cheek and said, "You say that like it's a bad thing."
~~~
Several months passed. September faded into October, October into Novemeber, November into December, and December into a damp, dreary January. The Ministry of Magic was no closer to finding the person that killed Armando Dippet, although Noah McCarthy was convinced that Albus Dumbledore had a hand in the murder. At this point, no one was taking him seriously anymore, and rumor had it Tobias Hawkins was searching for a replacement.
Then there was the matter of the war. The war the Muggles had named World War II was getting progressively worse. Winston Churchill, the British prime minister, had made contact with Hawkins several times, asking him to get involved. Hawkins disliked not being able to give Churchill an answer, but he was afraid that even if the wizards did join the Muggles, their enemy would get wizards on his side, too. The best way to keep that from happening was to keep wizards out of the war completely, but on the other hand, how did they know the enemy did not already have the help of wizards? Could one society survive without the other?
Things had only slightly improved at Hogwarts since the death of the headmaster. Fear rested in all of their hearts, a fear that would never be lifted until the murderer was found and the matter of the war was resolved. Many students and faculty members, especially the ones with Muggle blood in them, knew people who had died in the war, and no one in Natalie Cypher's family had heard from her brother since early November. The Muggle Studies class had never been more popular.
Hawkins had eased up on the faculty partner thing for everyone except Grindelwald. He was still convinced that the headmaster was in danger, and didn't want to take any chances. On the outside, Grindelwald seemed to be growing irritated with this system, but secretly, he was glad Hawkins insisted on keeping it. It kept him above suspicion, for one thing, and for another, allowed him more proximity to Minerva McGonagall than he would under other circumstances. As he and Minerva grew closer, she would become as easy to manipulate as Dippet had...
~~~
"What are you doing?"
Those were the first words out of Minerva McGonagall's mouth when she walked into Quinn Grindelwald's office after classes one day in early January and saw the headmaster hanging upside down by his knees from a bar above a window, reading a letter. Grindelwald sighed. "It's a long story," he answered, and dropped down from the bar. Blood rushed out of his head, and he was overcome by a temporary sensation of dizziness.
He stumbled to the side, and Minerva caught him before he could fall. "Thank you," he said, standing up straight. He then smiled and added, "Perhaps I should come down slower next time."
"Perhaps you should not have been up there in the first place," Minerva repeated. "What were you doing, anyway?"
Grindelwald sighed and showed her the letter he had been reading. "It's that wretched Noah McCarthy again," he said. "I felt a headache coming on as soon as I saw who it was from, and decided to save my mind the trouble and give myself the headache beforehand."
"You're a strange man, Quinn Grindelwald," she replied. "What is McCarthy harping about this week?"
"Albus," Grindelwald answered. Dumbledore had told both of them about his interrogation the day after it had taken place. "He's convinced that he's guilty, that bas... illegitimate son."
Minerva chuckled softly. "You can say it, Quinn. He's a bastard."
"I can't understand why McCarthy is so set on pinning the murder on Albus," he said. "I want them to find Armando's killer, too, but not when innocent lives are destroyed along the way." Then, his eyes lit up, as if something had just occured to him. "What if it was McCarthy who did it?"
She shook her head. "I doubt Noah McCarthy has ever so much as jaywalked. Anyway, how could he have gotten up there without anyone seeing him?" She glanced from side to side, as if they were making sure they were alone, and then whispered, "To tell you the truth, I think there might be an insider."
"An insider?" Grindelwald asked. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"First of all, an attacker could never have gotten up here without a password."
"Good point. Any guesses as to who it might be?"
Minerva shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is that it's not Albus, no matter what McCarthy thinks."
Suddenly, an idea came to him. Grindelwald doubted that Minerva suspected him as the insider, so he could probably find some way to twist that to his advantage. For a moment, he thought he could pin the murder on Tom Riddle, but quickly pushed that notion aside. Riddle may not have liked the fact that Dippet had been involved with Minerva, but he would not have resorted to murder. Besides, it had been determined that Riddle had indeed been stunned before Dippet was killed, and even with the use of truth serum, his story remained the same. Tom Riddle did not kill Armando Dippet, but someone else did, and with a little bit of help from him, the world would know who.
Or rather, they would think they knew.
"Indeed," Grindelwald said. "Keep your eyes open. Perhaps the guilty party will reveal themself soon."
"But not at the expense of another life, I hope."
"Let's hope not. Do you have papers to correct?"
She nodded. "Essays from the second-years."
"Go ahead and use my desk. I've got to go over some more letters, and I don't need my desk for that."
"All right," Minerva said, "but on one condition. Keep your feet on the ground."
Grindelwald laughed. "It's a deal."
He took the stack of letters from his desk and carried them over to an armchair. He sat down, heaved a sigh, and began sorting through the pile. One letter toward the middle caught his eye, and he opened it and read it. He was almost ready to dismiss it as nothing when another idea hit him. Yes. This was perfect. After all, now was as good a time as any to say good-bye to Hogwarts.
Grindelwald smiled to himself and put the letter in his pocket. He wondered how the others would react when the murderer turned out to be someone they never would have suspected.
~~~
Albus Dumbledore was on his way to the library later that night to do some research when a familiar voice caused him to come to a halt. He turned around and saw Grindelwald walking toward him. "Hello, Quinn," Dumbledore said. "Where's Minerva?"
"Staff room," Grindelwald answered.
"Shouldn't she be with you?" Dumbledore asked. He'd caught Grindelwald gazing at Minerva with a lusty look in his eyes several times over the last few weeks, and it irritated him greatly. When he mentioned it to Minerva, she said she hadn't noticed.
"It's all right," Grindelwald said dismissively. "I just had to find you. This won't take long."
"What is it?"
Grindelwald pulled something out of his pocket. It was a piece of paper. "Tobias Hawkins sent me this earlier today," he said. "The American Muggles have reelected their president, and the inaugural ball is in two weeks. Prime Minister Churchill informed Minister Hawkins that President Roosevelt desires their attendance, but Hawkins will be unable to go. Churchill asked him to pass the invitation on to a person of his choosing, and Hawkins selected me."
"No, Quinn, I don't mind if you take Minerva," Dumbledore said sarcastically. "Go right ahead."
"Actually, I was going to ask you if you would attend the ball in my place."
Dumbledore wasn't sure he had heard correctly. "What?"
"It could be fun," Grindelwald said. "It would give you a chance to meet delegates from both the wizard and Muggle world, and who knows? You might even have fun."
He shook his head. "I doubt it."
"Oh, come on. It's a ball. Everyone loves balls."
"I don't dance."
"You can learn. You have two weeks."
"No, no, you heard me wrong," Dumbledore said. "I can dance; I just choose not to."
"And why not?"
"I can never find a dance partner."
"So take Minerva. I'm sure she'd enjoy it, and I don't want to send her over there by herself," Grindelwald said. "Come on, Albus. What do you have to lose?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Fine. I'll take it."
"Excellent. I'll tell Minerva."
He turned around and began to walk away, but was stopped when Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "No," the Transfiguration instructor said. "I will."
~~~
Minerva didn't leave the staff room until she was ready to go to bed. She'd heard Dumbledore was in the library and decided to head down there to say good night. However, just outside the staff room, she spotted something that would impede her progress: Tom Riddle. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, "What do you want, Riddle?"
"Oh, so I'm Riddle now, am I?" he returned. "Whatever happened to calling me Tom?"
"I only call people I like by their first names."
"You used to like me," Riddle said, stepping closer to her.
"But never as much as you liked me," Minerva replied, backing up, and then frowning once she realized she was against the wall.
Riddle continued to close in on her. "I think you did," he said, "and never realized it."
He was close enough to touch her now, and did, on the cheek. She slapped his hand away. "And I think you're just a silly little boy with a crush."
Riddle took several steps closer to her, and then placed both his hands on the wall, trapping her in place. "You're only three years older than me, Minerva," he said. "Don't go thinking you're all grown up just because you've suddenly become Dumbledore's little whore. In a few months, he'll get tired of you and move on to someone else. Did you honestly think that a man his age would have any real interest in you?"
"Someone like you could never begin to comprehend what Albus and I see in each other," Minerva said.
"He's that good, eh?"
"For your information, Albus and I haven't even discussed anything remotely related to what you're implying. Wherever you're going with this, you're wrong."
"You know, Min, you're not as strong as you think you are."
She was unable to respond, for as soon as he spoke those words, his mouth was covering hers in a kiss filled with lust. Minerva tried to push him away, but he was too strong. Riddle pressed his body against her, and then slid his hands into her robes. He was just starting to touch her in places no woman wants to be touched by a man she despises when did the only thing she could think of - bit that snakelike tongue of his that was swimming around her mouth.
Riddle was so surprised that he stumbled backwards. "Bitch," he hissed, and slapped her across the face. He tried to grab her again, but she had vanished. In her place was a cat. The cat ran under his legs, and when it was a safe distance away, transformed back into Minerva. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting about her Animagus abilities.
In the blink of an eye, she had her wand out and was pointing it at him. "Tom Marvolo Riddle," she said in a tone of voice that was soft, but filled with bitterness, "if you ever touch me again, I swear on the sword of Godric Gryffindor that I will kill you."
"You wouldn't kill me," Riddle muttered to himself as she walked away.
She stopped walking, turned around, and said, "Yes, I would."
He slapped his forehead. Damn that acute hearing of hers.
~~~
After her encounter with Riddle, Minerva wasn't too enthusiastic about seeing anyone, but she thought she should say good night to Dumbledore anyway. His mood lately hadn't been exceptionally great, and she had a feeling it had something to do with her forming friendship with Grindelwald. She was almost certain that she truly loved Dumbledore, but she didn't know how their relationship was going to last if he kept acting so jealous every time she so much as spoke to another man. It didn't bother her at all if Dumbledore spent time with, say, Natalie Cypher, who was friendly and amusing in addition to being quite attractive. Minerva trusted him, but she wasn't so sure if he trusted her.
She was walking down the hall toward the library when she saw someone coming from that direction. When the person got closer, she saw that it was Dumbledore. He saw her, too, and quickened his pace to reach her faster. He smiled at her, but his smile faded when he got a closer look at her. "Minerva," he said, "what happened to you? You- you're bleeding!"
She then noticed a stinging sensation coming from her lips, and brought her hand to the painful area. When she pulled it away, she saw blood on her fingers. She must have sustained the injury when Riddle slapped her. "I had a run-in with Riddle on my way over."
"Indeed," he said, eyeing her carefully. "What happened?"
Minerva let out a sigh and summarized the incident. By the time she was finished, it was obvious that Dumbledore was fighting to keep control of himself. "How dare he?" he asked. "That... that... You should have broken his kneecaps."
"Yes, and gotten arrested," she replied. "Knowing Noah McCarthy, he probably would have interpreted that as an attempt to get past Riddle so I could kill Quinn."
Dumbledore rolled his eyes and nodded. "That's true. I'm sorry."
"For what? It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't like you could have stopped it from happening."
He ripped a piece of fabric from his robes and dabbed at the cut on her lip. "It should not have happened to you, or anyone, for that matter." He fought the urge to take her in his arms and hold her tightly. He doubted she would want any close physical contact with anyone so soon after being violated.
As it turned out, even the simple action of cleaning her cut was enough to make her flinch. "I'm sorry," she said when he pulled his hand away. "I don't know what's come over me." She closed her eyes and silently reminded herself that this was Albus Dumbledore, not Tom Riddle, and he would never, ever hurt her. She couldn't let Riddle get to her. If she let fear of him rule her life, then he won. She had to prove to him - and herself - that she wasn't afraid.
"I understand." He gave her the cloth. "Here."
She thanked him and wiped at the cut. She then noticed that he was looking at her strangely, as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he should. Finally, she could stand his gaze no longer, and asked, "Is something wrong, Albus?"
"You mean outside of the obvious fact that just when I thought nothing could make me dislike Tom Riddle any more than I already did, he proved me wrong?"
"Yes, besides that," she answered. "You seem different lately, almost like... like you're not telling me something." She paused, then said, "It's Quinn, isn't it?"
He sighed and turned away from her. "I don't understand, Minerva. This isn't natural for me. You mean so much to me, and after everything that's happened... if I lost you, be it to life, death, or another man, I don't know what I would do."
So that's what this was about. She placed her hands on his shoulders and laid her head against his back. "I love you," she whispered, "and only you."
He turned around, and for a few moments, the entire world around them ceased to exist as they looked into each other's eyes. Then Minerva smiled and said, "I would kiss you, but there's the small matter of this cut."
Dumbledore smiled, too, and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, too." Then, he remembered the Muggle ball, and said, "Listen. The American Muggles reelected their president, and they want delegates from the wizarding world at the inaugural ball in two weeks. Minister Hawkins had the initial invitation, but he cannot be there for some reason or another, so he passed it on to Quinn, who is also unable to attend. Quinn extended the invitation to me. Care to come along and make the experience endurable?"
Minerva shrugged. "Why not? We can suffer through it together."
"Excellent," he said. "I'll go tell Quinn."
"Mind if I come along?"
He took her hand and kissed it. "Well, if you insist."
They began walking through the school hand in hand. Then Minerva laughed and said, "You know, Albus, we're acting like students."
He kissed her on the cheek and said, "You say that like it's a bad thing."
