"My goodness…"

Albus Dumbledore sat right before his Pensieve, staring and staring and staring… Strolling through his memories, he had just remembered something… something of such a long time ago.

He remembered her in her fifth year, such a tall, slender girl with those long ebony-black hairs, and the strange dark-blue eyes that had enchanted him, even then. Not that he hadn't fought against it… he had fought against it everyday, every time he saw her; for he had been her teacher, and he couldn't… No, he certainly couldn't…

But how jealous had he been when one of the boys, boys of her own age, secretly stared at her, and when she then smiled at them. Yet, he didn't think she'd been a boys' girl, always so serious and so dutiful. Yet…

He had loved her, he knew, and he still loved her. Minerva, Minerva… He'd never said something, never told her that…

But one time, one time he'd been very close to… And that was what he'd seen in the Pensieve…

i

"And this is our new Transfigurations teacher… Minerva McGonagall…" headmaster Dippit said, and Dumbledore closed his eyes. There she sat, beautiful, still young and yet more grown-up, Minerva McGonagall, the student he'd loved, adored, for three years. Those five years after her graduation had only seemed to make her more pretty. Those delicate, Scottish features… carved in the inside of his head, forever… Of course he'd known that teaching had been her dream, but he had thought that… Well, he had, despite himself, hoped that she would come and teach at Hogwarts, but another part of him had hoped that she wouldn't… For it would be so difficult for him, to not admit that he loved her, adored her, admired her… But why couldn't he just…? Because, he spoke sternly to himself, he was twice her age. And because she did most probably, no, she just did not at all, love him. How could a pretty, young, brilliant, sweet girl like her ever love an old man like he was…

"So, Minerva, you've really come back to Hogwarts…"

He'd just showed her where her rooms were.

She turned around and smiled at him, a bit shy.

"Yes, I have, Professor…"

"Call me Albus."

"Yes, Albus…"

And that moment, that very moment, was the hardest. She had pronounced his first name so lightly, so sweetly.

"Minerva…"

"Yes, Albus…?"

"I…"

"Yes…?"

And the moment was over. The lovely expectation in her clear blue eyes had been too much… He couldn't, he couldn't ruin everything by telling her how he felt, he couldn't ruin all the friendship that she felt for him. He couldn't…

"Nothing, Minerva."

/i