8. Realizations II
A/N: Many thanks go to Cielita for her assistance and suggestions with this chapter.
While Minerva was busy preparing for bed, Albus paced his rooms, his mind too full for him to seek his own rest. The primary thought on his mind was what Harry's innocent comment about his aunt and uncle meant. Though Albus didn't truly like the Dursleys, he hadn't considered Vernon Dursley to be a violent man. Of course, the fact that he abandoned Harry in a junkyard lost him some points with Albus, but he'd been willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. While Minerva had been in the bathroom, Albus had asked Harry a few more questions:
"M'boy, what would your uncle do to your aunt that would make her cry?" Albus asked, his voice grave.
Harry shrugged, scuffing the toe of his trainer in the carpet. "He hit her, but only after he'd ranted and yelled a lot, saying it was all her fault, that she was the reason they were stuck with 'the brat'."
"Is that what he called you?" Albus inquired, his heart twisting in his chest.
Harry nodded, very interested in the pattern of the carpet. "He called me brat, freak, boy, idiot--"
"Thank you, Harry, I see your point." Albus suppressed a small chuckle, knowing Harry would misinterpret it. Reaching out, he tilted the boy's chin up so dark blue eyes looked into his. "You never have to go back to them, I can assure you of that."
Harry smiled. "Thanks, Mr. Albus."
"You're welcome, m'boy." Albus smiled back just as Minerva emerged from the bathroom...
Once he'd returned to his office after dinner, Albus owled a friend of his and asked him to make some discreet inquires regarding the domestic peace at Number 4 Privet Drive. If Harry's presence had precipitated much of the violence, then Petunia should be in no more danger, but Albus didn't want to take any more chances. He also sent Arabella an owl, asking her what she knew of the situation.
That load off his mind, Albus found his thoughts turning to Minerva. There was no denying that, even at 65, she was still a beautiful woman. She'd started pulling her hair back early on in her teaching career to keep it out of her face and had tried several styles before settling on the bun that, to most students, had always been there. Albus had always secretly wished that she would leave it down. There wasn't a gray hair among all the ebony strands, and it was really quite gorgeous. She'd taken to wearing voluminous robes when Lucius Malfoy had decided to make a move on her in an attempt to discourage future attempts.
Albus had not noticed any change in his feelings towards his deputy, although he'd noticed that she entered his thoughts more often. He worried about her more and he often caught himself wondering what she would think of one thing or another. On Christmas Eve, Albus and Minerva had exchanged gifts so they could focus only on Harry...
"Go on, Albus, open it," Minerva urged him, quite obviously eager to see his reaction to whatever his gift was.
Smiling to himself, Albus took his time unwrapping his present. He knew it would exasperate Minerva and it drew out the anticipation. Finally, he was holding a box and carefully opened it. He smiled with pleasure at what he found inside: twelve pairs of woolly socks, one pair for each month of the year. He looked up at the witch opposite him. "Thank you, Minerva."
"You're welcome, Albus." Minerva smiled as Albus promptly pulled on the socks obviously meant to be worn during December.
He offered her gift, wrapped in tartan wrapping paper, to her. "Your turn."
"Of course." She favored him with a smile before opening the gift, revealing a red and gold chessboard with matching figurines done in a feline style. She looked incredulous as she examined the gold king. "Albus, this is too much!"
He felt his heart plummet. "You don't like it?"
"No, Albus, I love it," she replied, the smile on her face the biggest he'd yet to see from her. "Thank you very much."
He smiled back, relieved. "You're welcome, Minerva."
Bringing himself back to the present, Albus shook his head. That was when he'd begun to wonder if his feelings for his Deputy were more than platonic. Harry's question the following night had merely added fuel to the fire. He'd come to rely on Minerva more and more since she'd become his Deputy and he honestly could not imagine anyone else taking her place. He hadn't been very lucky in love over the years and had resigned himself to never finding someone. Now, it was quite possible that he had and he wondered if he should take a chance on love once more.
Harry woke from a sound sleep to the sound of someone entering his bedroom. The night-light told him it was only Mr. Albus. When he slipped through the door leading to the sitting room, Harry slipped from his bed and followed, his be-socked feet making no sound on the carpet. Peeping around the door to Mum's bedroom, Harry saw Mr. Albus leaning over her sleeping form. A soft, "Good night, Minerva. Sleep well." was followed by a kiss on Mum's forehead. Grinning to himself, Harry dashed back into his room and under the covers of his bed before Mr. Albus returned.
When he heard Mr. Albus re-enter his room and cross to his bed, Harry pretended to be asleep. Once he was sure Mr. Albus was gone, Harry let loose a quiet giggle. Mr. Albus does love Mum like Daddy liked Mummy!
Albus rarely received mail at breakfast. Most was delivered directly to his office, left on his desk for him to sort through at his leisure. This gave him a chance to eat without interruptions and fortify himself for whatever may come. He didn't expect anything from his investigator friend right away, but wasn't surprised to find a letter from Arabella waiting for him when he arrived in his office. After settling Harry in a corner with his toys, Albus opened Arabella's letter.
Albus,
About time you asked, you crazy old coot! Being a couple streets over, I don't know much, but my cats have told me they would hear a lot of yelling and screaming later at night. Probably after Harry and his fat lump of a cousin were in bed. Jenny mentioned that she sometimes wondered if 'the human tom' (she means Vernon) had hit 'the human queen' (Petunia). Sometimes, I'd see Petunia with a black eye and ask her what happened. She usually told me that she'd stumbled in the dark, or something like that. I wouldn't be surprised if that great oaf had hit her. There haven't been similar incidents since you took Harry. Would you like me to stick around a little longer?
Arabella.
Albus set the letter aside with a sigh. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but he'd still hoped... His gaze landing on Harry, Albus stopped that train of thought. It was no use wishing for one thing when the truth was something else. Pulling out a piece of parchment and his quill, Albus wrote a quick reply to Arabella, requesting that she remain until the business with the Dursleys was dealt with. Summoning a house-elf to take it to the Owlery, Albus turned his attention to the rest of his mail for the day, taking time to play with Harry before they went to the Great Hall for lunch. "What would you like to do today, m'boy?"
"Can we play school?" Harry asked, his eyes bright with hope.
Albus smiled, ruffling Harry's hair. "Certainly, m'boy. Now, did you want to be 'teacher', or shall I?"
"You'd really let me be 'teacher'?" Harry's unnaturally blue eyes were wide.
Albus frowned slightly. "Of course I would. You suggested the game, you get to choose whether you want to be the teacher or not."
"All right!" Harry punched the air with one small fist.
Albus captured his hand. "M'boy, which did you want to be? Teacher or student?"
"Teacher!" Harry shouted, obviously delighted.
Chuckling, Albus obediently took his place and scribbled as Harry pretended to teach Transfiguration, 'like Mum'. When the two of them were done, they headed down to lunch.
Minerva was on her way to the Great Hall when a voice sounded from near her feet. ("Tabby.")
Looking down, she smiled. "Hello, Mistoffelees. What are you doing here?"
("My human is one of the students,") he replied as she knelt to stroke his back. ("I can communicate with my Tribe and they wish to know how the kitten is doing.")
Minerva considered her options before asking, "Why don't I show you instead?"
("What do you mean?") Minerva knew the feline anatomy didn't allow for a frown--she'd tried--but she was sure Mistoffelees was trying to frown.
Minerva reached out and gently scooped him up into her arms. "I hope you don't mind, but it's quicker this way."
("Not at all. You're one of the few humans who knows how to carry a cat without it being uncomfortable,") Mistoffelees made himself comfortable in Minerva's arms.
Entering the Great Hall, Minerva saw that Albus and Harry were already seated at the staff table. Amazingly, no one seemed to notice the cat in Minerva's arms. Mentally shrugging, she finished making her way to her seat and sat down, to find a plate of food already waiting for her. Jostling the cat in her arms, Minerva addressed her son. "Harry-lad?"
"Yes, Mum?" Harry looked at her. "Oh, what a pretty kitty."
Minerva laughed as Harry reached out and stroked Mistoffelees. ("He seems to be in good hands.")
"Yes, Harry-lad, a very pretty kitty," Minerva agreed, looking over Harry's head at Albus, who was smiling.
Despite the fact that he was purring, Mistoffelees managed to sound a little annoyed. ("I am not 'pretty'. I'm 'handsome'.")
"What's her name?" Harry asked.
Minerva prevented the cat from lashing out at the boy. "His name is Mistoffelees, Harry-lad."
"Oh," Harry looked thoughtful. "Does he belong to one of the students?"
Minerva nodded. "Yes, he does."
"Maybe you should let him go, then," Harry suggested.
Minerva smiled, even as she set Mistoffelees on the floor. "An excellent idea, Harry-lad."
("Pretty kitty, humph!") Mistoffelees muttered just before he was out of earshot.
Minerva laughed softly before starting on her lunch.
That afternoon, Harry was playing quietly in a corner of Minerva's office when someone knocked on the door. "Come in." The door opened to admit a redheaded third-year boy, already promising to be tall, with a first-year boy, also a redhead. Both wore the red and gold of Gryffindor. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, what can I do for you boys?"
"One of the Slytherins took Charlie's stuffed dragon, Professor," the older boy replied, looking indignant.
Minerva looked at the younger boy. There were tearstains on Charlie's cheeks, but no tears in his eyes now. "Is Bill right, Charlie?" Minerva asked, aware of how important stuffed toys were to first-year students, away from home for the first time in their lives.
"Yes, Professor," Charlie nodded, his voice hoarse from crying.
Minerva sighed. "I'll speak to Professor Snape." She rose and spotted Harry playing in the corner. "Would either of you mind playing with Harry for a few minutes?"
"No, Ma'am." Bill smiled at his professor. "He's the same age as our brother, Ron."
Minerva didn't react to this news, though she wondered how many Weasleys would be going through Hogwarts, as she led them over to Harry. "Harry-lad, I'd like you to meet Bill and Charlie Weasley. They're going to play with you for a bit, all right?"
"All right." Harry hugged Minerva, who hugged him back before nodding to the boys and leaving him with the two oldest Weasley boys.