Chapter 2: Wizarding Paparazzi
Now that Albus and Minerva had confessed their love for each other, it seemed like everyone wanted their time. Minerva remembered Conner now. He'd been in Hufflepuff, three years above her, along with Alastor Moody, Stewart Pomfrey, Griffith Hooch, Milo Camden, Rremly Redgrave, and Loupe Cardon.
She was certainly glad Conner was the one to interview Albus, instead of some of the other reporters out there. He respected Albus immensely as a teacher and as the man who stopped Grindelwald. He seemed to know instinctively what topics to cover in his interview with Albus and which topics to avoid, including his budding relationship with Minerva.
The article that appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ several days after the interview had contained only the answers Albus had provided and nothing more, without even a hint that Albus and Minerva were involved.
Unfortunately, this had led the other newspapers and magazines to list Albus as the most eligible bachelor. Somehow, they found out where Albus was staying and set up camp outside Minerva's flat. Neither had been able to leave by the front door and even Apparating didn't do much good because they couldn't seem to Apparate more than a dozen feet from the flat.
For a similar reason, Floo Powder didn't work either. They couldn't hold a conversation with anyone via the fireplace because the reporters would somehow intrude, shouting their questions at whoever was trying to use the fireplace. Any attempt to use Floo to leave the flat just sent the user tumbling back into the room.
Worse than either of those were the owls. At all hours of the day, more than one owl was crowded onto the perch with poor Athena, Minerva's brown owl. More often than not, they were fan letters from witches, gushing about how handsome and wonderful Albus was.
Letters and poems arrived daily, twittering about the twinkle in his eyes, the lushness of his hair and beard, his handsome, chiseled features, and so on. Minerva thought them rather silly, but then she had the real deal living with her.
Granted, he'd been nothing but honorable in his dealings with her, but she could tell the gushing ladies about the Albus Dumbledore they were rhapsodizing about in their letters and poems. She could tell them the exact taste and texture of his kiss, what it felt like to be touched and caressed by his talented hands; how soft and silky his auburn hair was when she ran her fingers through them;
how the way he looked into her eyes made her feel cherished and treasured; but she never would. She didn't want them trying even harder to catch him.
Minerva had tolerated the problems because, well, she loved Albus and didn't mind having him near. When an owl woke her early one morning, though, her hold on her Scottish temper broke: "I cannot take it anymore! Owls at all hours of the day! Reporters camped outside my door! Prisoner in my own home! I just cannot take it!"
"Minerva, dear, what is it?" Albus asked, hurrying into the room.
When his arms enfolded her, she burrowed into his embrace. "Albus, I do not know how you handle all this. I want to leave, but I cannot without being accosted by reporters asking me about you."
"Shh, my darling, shh," he murmured, rocking her in his arms.
She sniffled back tears, taking comfort in being near him. "Albus, is there nothing we can do?"
"Hmm, I have an idea," he answered, looking thoughtful, as he handed her his handkerchief.
Minerva looked up at him hopefully. "What kind of idea?"
"You shall see, my dear Minerva," Albus told her mysteriously. "You shall see."
* * * Fawkes had been a comfort to both of them, chirruping cheerful melodies to help them ignore the reporters waiting outside, but even that began to lose its effectiveness. By accident, Albus discovered that the phoenix could carry messages to others for them and he used that to contact a friend of his.
Upon reading Albus' note, the friend chuckled and scribbled a quick reply before sending Fawkes back. When Albus received the return message, he immediately sought out Minerva. "My dear, how long will it take you to pack enough for an indefinite stay?"
"Indefinite stay where?" she asked him curiously, the firelight glinting on the lenses of her reading glasses.
He handed her the note. "Read this."
"Albus?" She took the note, but kept her gaze on him.
He sat down beside her on the loveseat, kissing her forehead. "Read it, and then I will explain."
"Very well." She looked down at the note and read it quickly. Her eyes were shining when she looked back at him. "You are serious, Albus? This is not a joke?" He raised a hand and cupped her cheek. She leaned into the caress, a smile on her face for the first time in weeks. "Quite serious. So, how long will it take you to pack?" "Not long at all," she assured him, moving to rise and do just that.
Unfortunately, Albus had sat on a fold of her robe and she fell back onto the loveseat in a most ungraceful manner, causing both of them to laugh uproariously. It slowly faded as they got lost in each other's gazes. Slowly, his head lowered and his lips covered hers in a tender kiss.
Making a sound of impatience, she deepened the kiss, her arms winding their way around his neck while his slipped around her waist. After several eternities, Albus pulled back to look down into her flushed face, her lips swollen from the kiss and her eyes half-closed. "My dear, do you think you can wait a bit before packing?"
"Maybe," she replied vaguely, looking up at him through her lashes. "It depends on if you can think of something better we can do with our time."
His response was to kiss her again.
* * * They arrived in front of a cozy cottage in the mountains of Colorado about a week later, thanks to Fawkes. Each carried a single carpetbag. Hers was green tartan, of course, and his was purple with a silver pattern. As they studied the cottage, Fawkes settled himself on Albus' shoulder. "What do you think, my dear?"
"It is wonderful," she told him, her eyes drinking in the sight. Set in the middle of a clearing in the evergreen forest, the cabin was the typical log cabin with a stone chimney. Minerva breathed deeply, enjoyed the scent of pine trees. She'd always loved it as a little girl because it reminded her of Christmas. When she turned to her companion, there was a bemused smile on his face. "Yes?"
He smiled, drawing her to him for a kiss. "Nothing, my dear. I am just thankful I have you in my life now."
"I am quite thankful for that myself," she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.
They stood there in silence for a few moments before Albus spoke up again. "Shall we go investigate?"
"Yes!" Grabbing his hand, she virtually dragged him into the log cabin that would be their refuge until the hoopla over Grindelwald's defeat finally died down.
* * * After they arrived at the cabin, Albus and Minerva's days relaxed into pure, unhurried rhythm. Each spent hours each day reading, dueling for fun and practice, swimming in the nearby waterfall, and of course, the nights in each other's arms were far from ordinary. Let the reader bear in mind that our favorite lovers were not being promiscuous during their stay at the cabin, but simply enjoying the comfort of one another's arms as they lay in the hammock in the shade or on the couch in the sitting room of the cabin.
Late one evening several months later, Minerva sat curled up in a stuffed chair with her sixth novel in her steady hands. A fire crackled in the fireplace and warmed the room, effectively fending off the chill of the day. There was a tartan blanket tucked around Minerva's legs and hiding her feet. She was so engrossed in her book that she hardly noticed Albus gathering pillows and blankets and arranging them on the floor not far from the chair she sat in but still out of her sight. When Minerva heard the distinct *fwump* of a large pillow, she shifted in her chair to crane her neck around and see. Albus waved his hand and Minerva's chair moved away so that the area behind the chair received some of the warmth from the fire. When the chair came to a halt, Minerva joined him on the floor, sinking gracefully to the blankets.
Albus produced two glasses of champagne and handed one to Minerva as she smiled.
"What's this all about?" she purred, obviously pleased.
"To celebrate, my dear. We haven't had a quiet bit of time like this in ages," said Albus. Minerva sipped her champagne and took a deep breath. It really did feel good to have things quiet for once. Fawkes and Athena rested on a tiered perch near a window, and other than the soft sounds of their breathing, there was no other sound in the room. Two empty champagne glasses came back to rest on a nearby table, and Minerva reached to cup Albus' face in her hand.
"When did I last tell you I loved you?" she murmured.
"After a few minutes I lost track," Albus quipped. Minerva couldn't resist letting Albus push her backwards into the pile of pillows behind her. She reveled in his kiss, breathing deeply as that kiss meandered down her jaw line and nibbled her earlobe before descending to her neck and collarbone. Minerva shuddered.
"Oh, Albus, I want you beside me forever!" whispered Minerva. "Those women who write to you—"
"...mean nothing to me," he finished for her. "You're a far better poet." Minerva laughed. Albus' eyes danced in the fire light.
"Me? How am I a much better poet?" she inquired.
"My dear, a woman like you defies the language of mortal men. There are no words to describe what you are to me, so I will merely sit in stunned, reverent silence and worship the temple that is your body with my kiss. You are my own, living, breathing poem," Albus said, his eloquent speech nearly driving Minerva to tears.
"Albus, I love you," Minerva murmured, bringing his lips to hers again. Moments later, Albus pulled back, removed her glasses from her face and released her hair from the confines of the bun she wore it in. He smoothed her curls with his fingers and kissed her again before whispering, "There. That's better." Speechless for an eternity, Minerva finally spoke.
"Albus, I don't want this night to end," she whispered. Her heart was pounding with love for him.
"Minerva, will you marry me?" Albus asked. There was no doubt what her answer would be.
"Yes!"
Albus produced a diamond and ruby ring from a small pouch in his pocket and placed it on her hand. The sun was rising the next morning before the two finally slept, still cuddled together on the floor amid the pillows and blankets.
* * * Minerva slipped into the back yard early one glorious Sunday morning in June and sank slowly into the hammock. Swinging just a little, Minerva inhaled the scent of the lilac bushes and smiled as a light breeze kissed her cheeks. She loved Albus very much, but she also direly needed her time to herself. Minerva let her eyes droop shut for a while as she listened to a bird sing up in a tree. Minerva chuckled at this. She was fighting a deep inner urge to transform into a cat, leap into the tree and eat that bird. Eventually, the human side of her won out, and she relaxed against the firm net of the hammock.
The better part of half an hour went by before Minerva heard a twig snap nearby. She sat bolt upright, skillfully keeping her balance in the hammock. One hand on her wand, Minerva scanned the landscape. When she finished one direction, she looked back toward the other only to come maddeningly close to hitting the front of a camera. Suddenly, the flash went off several times in rapid succession and Minerva was blinded. The shock threw her off balance and this time she landed hard on the ground. The jolt knocked the wind out of her, making her dizzy in addition to the spots she was seeing from the flashes of two cameras.
"Where's Albus Dumbledore?" "Is this his mountain retreat?" "Why did you run away from London?" "Is the Great Wizard still unwell?" "Why did he choose to bring you along? Are you still his caretaker?" "I see you're wearing a ring. Are we to expect wedding bells?"
The barrage of questions and the flash of cameras continued as Minerva fought her way off the ground and ran for the house, quickly slamming the door behind her. She turned to see a stunned Albus standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring in wide-eyed shock. Quickly, he commanded all of the draperies in the cabin to close, and then he moved to pull Minerva close. Minerva burst into tears, clutching Albus' robes for support. "Why can't they just leave us alone, Albus?"
"I do not know, my dear, I do not know," he replied with a sigh. "I will not let them trap us here this time."
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. "Where will we go from here?"
"Pack as quickly as you can," he instructed her, wiping away the last of her tears with his thumb.
She nodded and stood on tiptoes to kiss him quickly. "I love you, Albus."
"I love you, too, Minerva." He kissed her forehead and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the door to the kitchen. "Go." She went and he crossed to the door. Opening it, he was bombarded with questions. Holding up his hands, he waited until the questions had died down before speaking, "I have nothing to say at this time except to request that you leave me in peace. When I am ready to make a statement, I will contact the people I wish to make it to, thank you."
As he stepped back into the cabin and closed the door, the reporters shouted questions after him, but he ignored them. Finding some privacy was not going to be easy.
* * *
'GREAT WIZARD' BACK AT HOGWARTS
September 1, 1946--Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Wizard Who Defeated Grindelwald, has returned to his post as Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after a year- long sabbatical. He spent half of it seeking out and defeating the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald, and the other half recovering from the ordeal under the care of Miss Minerva McGonagall. The two were forced to change locations several times during his recovery due to the persistence of several reporters. In the process, he proposed and she accepted. They were married this summer at an undisclosed location in a small ceremony attended only by close friends and family of the bride and groom. Those same friends and family are the only ones aware of where the new bride and groom are now residing and this reporter suggests that those who are not in either group not even bother trying to contact either. 'The Daily Prophet' would like to extend their congratulations to the happy couple.
Conner Cleas, Daily Prophet reporter.
"What did I tell you, my dear?" Albus looked down at his new wife. "He was the only reporter who remained in London. He did not even camp outside your home with the others."
She sighed and curled up against him. "I am aware of that, Albus, but I am not sure if letting him announce our marriage was a good idea."
"Would you rather I receive proposals from witches I do not even know?" he asked, blue eyes twinkling merrily.
She chuckled. "You have me there, Albus, but it is not a pleasant idea to ponder."
"Perhaps I can give you something else to ponder?" he suggested, wrapping his arms around her.
She smiled and met his kiss halfway. Still kissing her, he lowered her to the bed and, she mused later, it was an excellent way to take her mind off unpleasant things.
Now that Albus and Minerva had confessed their love for each other, it seemed like everyone wanted their time. Minerva remembered Conner now. He'd been in Hufflepuff, three years above her, along with Alastor Moody, Stewart Pomfrey, Griffith Hooch, Milo Camden, Rremly Redgrave, and Loupe Cardon.
She was certainly glad Conner was the one to interview Albus, instead of some of the other reporters out there. He respected Albus immensely as a teacher and as the man who stopped Grindelwald. He seemed to know instinctively what topics to cover in his interview with Albus and which topics to avoid, including his budding relationship with Minerva.
The article that appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ several days after the interview had contained only the answers Albus had provided and nothing more, without even a hint that Albus and Minerva were involved.
Unfortunately, this had led the other newspapers and magazines to list Albus as the most eligible bachelor. Somehow, they found out where Albus was staying and set up camp outside Minerva's flat. Neither had been able to leave by the front door and even Apparating didn't do much good because they couldn't seem to Apparate more than a dozen feet from the flat.
For a similar reason, Floo Powder didn't work either. They couldn't hold a conversation with anyone via the fireplace because the reporters would somehow intrude, shouting their questions at whoever was trying to use the fireplace. Any attempt to use Floo to leave the flat just sent the user tumbling back into the room.
Worse than either of those were the owls. At all hours of the day, more than one owl was crowded onto the perch with poor Athena, Minerva's brown owl. More often than not, they were fan letters from witches, gushing about how handsome and wonderful Albus was.
Letters and poems arrived daily, twittering about the twinkle in his eyes, the lushness of his hair and beard, his handsome, chiseled features, and so on. Minerva thought them rather silly, but then she had the real deal living with her.
Granted, he'd been nothing but honorable in his dealings with her, but she could tell the gushing ladies about the Albus Dumbledore they were rhapsodizing about in their letters and poems. She could tell them the exact taste and texture of his kiss, what it felt like to be touched and caressed by his talented hands; how soft and silky his auburn hair was when she ran her fingers through them;
how the way he looked into her eyes made her feel cherished and treasured; but she never would. She didn't want them trying even harder to catch him.
Minerva had tolerated the problems because, well, she loved Albus and didn't mind having him near. When an owl woke her early one morning, though, her hold on her Scottish temper broke: "I cannot take it anymore! Owls at all hours of the day! Reporters camped outside my door! Prisoner in my own home! I just cannot take it!"
"Minerva, dear, what is it?" Albus asked, hurrying into the room.
When his arms enfolded her, she burrowed into his embrace. "Albus, I do not know how you handle all this. I want to leave, but I cannot without being accosted by reporters asking me about you."
"Shh, my darling, shh," he murmured, rocking her in his arms.
She sniffled back tears, taking comfort in being near him. "Albus, is there nothing we can do?"
"Hmm, I have an idea," he answered, looking thoughtful, as he handed her his handkerchief.
Minerva looked up at him hopefully. "What kind of idea?"
"You shall see, my dear Minerva," Albus told her mysteriously. "You shall see."
* * * Fawkes had been a comfort to both of them, chirruping cheerful melodies to help them ignore the reporters waiting outside, but even that began to lose its effectiveness. By accident, Albus discovered that the phoenix could carry messages to others for them and he used that to contact a friend of his.
Upon reading Albus' note, the friend chuckled and scribbled a quick reply before sending Fawkes back. When Albus received the return message, he immediately sought out Minerva. "My dear, how long will it take you to pack enough for an indefinite stay?"
"Indefinite stay where?" she asked him curiously, the firelight glinting on the lenses of her reading glasses.
He handed her the note. "Read this."
"Albus?" She took the note, but kept her gaze on him.
He sat down beside her on the loveseat, kissing her forehead. "Read it, and then I will explain."
"Very well." She looked down at the note and read it quickly. Her eyes were shining when she looked back at him. "You are serious, Albus? This is not a joke?" He raised a hand and cupped her cheek. She leaned into the caress, a smile on her face for the first time in weeks. "Quite serious. So, how long will it take you to pack?" "Not long at all," she assured him, moving to rise and do just that.
Unfortunately, Albus had sat on a fold of her robe and she fell back onto the loveseat in a most ungraceful manner, causing both of them to laugh uproariously. It slowly faded as they got lost in each other's gazes. Slowly, his head lowered and his lips covered hers in a tender kiss.
Making a sound of impatience, she deepened the kiss, her arms winding their way around his neck while his slipped around her waist. After several eternities, Albus pulled back to look down into her flushed face, her lips swollen from the kiss and her eyes half-closed. "My dear, do you think you can wait a bit before packing?"
"Maybe," she replied vaguely, looking up at him through her lashes. "It depends on if you can think of something better we can do with our time."
His response was to kiss her again.
* * * They arrived in front of a cozy cottage in the mountains of Colorado about a week later, thanks to Fawkes. Each carried a single carpetbag. Hers was green tartan, of course, and his was purple with a silver pattern. As they studied the cottage, Fawkes settled himself on Albus' shoulder. "What do you think, my dear?"
"It is wonderful," she told him, her eyes drinking in the sight. Set in the middle of a clearing in the evergreen forest, the cabin was the typical log cabin with a stone chimney. Minerva breathed deeply, enjoyed the scent of pine trees. She'd always loved it as a little girl because it reminded her of Christmas. When she turned to her companion, there was a bemused smile on his face. "Yes?"
He smiled, drawing her to him for a kiss. "Nothing, my dear. I am just thankful I have you in my life now."
"I am quite thankful for that myself," she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.
They stood there in silence for a few moments before Albus spoke up again. "Shall we go investigate?"
"Yes!" Grabbing his hand, she virtually dragged him into the log cabin that would be their refuge until the hoopla over Grindelwald's defeat finally died down.
* * * After they arrived at the cabin, Albus and Minerva's days relaxed into pure, unhurried rhythm. Each spent hours each day reading, dueling for fun and practice, swimming in the nearby waterfall, and of course, the nights in each other's arms were far from ordinary. Let the reader bear in mind that our favorite lovers were not being promiscuous during their stay at the cabin, but simply enjoying the comfort of one another's arms as they lay in the hammock in the shade or on the couch in the sitting room of the cabin.
Late one evening several months later, Minerva sat curled up in a stuffed chair with her sixth novel in her steady hands. A fire crackled in the fireplace and warmed the room, effectively fending off the chill of the day. There was a tartan blanket tucked around Minerva's legs and hiding her feet. She was so engrossed in her book that she hardly noticed Albus gathering pillows and blankets and arranging them on the floor not far from the chair she sat in but still out of her sight. When Minerva heard the distinct *fwump* of a large pillow, she shifted in her chair to crane her neck around and see. Albus waved his hand and Minerva's chair moved away so that the area behind the chair received some of the warmth from the fire. When the chair came to a halt, Minerva joined him on the floor, sinking gracefully to the blankets.
Albus produced two glasses of champagne and handed one to Minerva as she smiled.
"What's this all about?" she purred, obviously pleased.
"To celebrate, my dear. We haven't had a quiet bit of time like this in ages," said Albus. Minerva sipped her champagne and took a deep breath. It really did feel good to have things quiet for once. Fawkes and Athena rested on a tiered perch near a window, and other than the soft sounds of their breathing, there was no other sound in the room. Two empty champagne glasses came back to rest on a nearby table, and Minerva reached to cup Albus' face in her hand.
"When did I last tell you I loved you?" she murmured.
"After a few minutes I lost track," Albus quipped. Minerva couldn't resist letting Albus push her backwards into the pile of pillows behind her. She reveled in his kiss, breathing deeply as that kiss meandered down her jaw line and nibbled her earlobe before descending to her neck and collarbone. Minerva shuddered.
"Oh, Albus, I want you beside me forever!" whispered Minerva. "Those women who write to you—"
"...mean nothing to me," he finished for her. "You're a far better poet." Minerva laughed. Albus' eyes danced in the fire light.
"Me? How am I a much better poet?" she inquired.
"My dear, a woman like you defies the language of mortal men. There are no words to describe what you are to me, so I will merely sit in stunned, reverent silence and worship the temple that is your body with my kiss. You are my own, living, breathing poem," Albus said, his eloquent speech nearly driving Minerva to tears.
"Albus, I love you," Minerva murmured, bringing his lips to hers again. Moments later, Albus pulled back, removed her glasses from her face and released her hair from the confines of the bun she wore it in. He smoothed her curls with his fingers and kissed her again before whispering, "There. That's better." Speechless for an eternity, Minerva finally spoke.
"Albus, I don't want this night to end," she whispered. Her heart was pounding with love for him.
"Minerva, will you marry me?" Albus asked. There was no doubt what her answer would be.
"Yes!"
Albus produced a diamond and ruby ring from a small pouch in his pocket and placed it on her hand. The sun was rising the next morning before the two finally slept, still cuddled together on the floor amid the pillows and blankets.
* * * Minerva slipped into the back yard early one glorious Sunday morning in June and sank slowly into the hammock. Swinging just a little, Minerva inhaled the scent of the lilac bushes and smiled as a light breeze kissed her cheeks. She loved Albus very much, but she also direly needed her time to herself. Minerva let her eyes droop shut for a while as she listened to a bird sing up in a tree. Minerva chuckled at this. She was fighting a deep inner urge to transform into a cat, leap into the tree and eat that bird. Eventually, the human side of her won out, and she relaxed against the firm net of the hammock.
The better part of half an hour went by before Minerva heard a twig snap nearby. She sat bolt upright, skillfully keeping her balance in the hammock. One hand on her wand, Minerva scanned the landscape. When she finished one direction, she looked back toward the other only to come maddeningly close to hitting the front of a camera. Suddenly, the flash went off several times in rapid succession and Minerva was blinded. The shock threw her off balance and this time she landed hard on the ground. The jolt knocked the wind out of her, making her dizzy in addition to the spots she was seeing from the flashes of two cameras.
"Where's Albus Dumbledore?" "Is this his mountain retreat?" "Why did you run away from London?" "Is the Great Wizard still unwell?" "Why did he choose to bring you along? Are you still his caretaker?" "I see you're wearing a ring. Are we to expect wedding bells?"
The barrage of questions and the flash of cameras continued as Minerva fought her way off the ground and ran for the house, quickly slamming the door behind her. She turned to see a stunned Albus standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring in wide-eyed shock. Quickly, he commanded all of the draperies in the cabin to close, and then he moved to pull Minerva close. Minerva burst into tears, clutching Albus' robes for support. "Why can't they just leave us alone, Albus?"
"I do not know, my dear, I do not know," he replied with a sigh. "I will not let them trap us here this time."
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. "Where will we go from here?"
"Pack as quickly as you can," he instructed her, wiping away the last of her tears with his thumb.
She nodded and stood on tiptoes to kiss him quickly. "I love you, Albus."
"I love you, too, Minerva." He kissed her forehead and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the door to the kitchen. "Go." She went and he crossed to the door. Opening it, he was bombarded with questions. Holding up his hands, he waited until the questions had died down before speaking, "I have nothing to say at this time except to request that you leave me in peace. When I am ready to make a statement, I will contact the people I wish to make it to, thank you."
As he stepped back into the cabin and closed the door, the reporters shouted questions after him, but he ignored them. Finding some privacy was not going to be easy.
* * *
'GREAT WIZARD' BACK AT HOGWARTS
September 1, 1946--Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Wizard Who Defeated Grindelwald, has returned to his post as Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after a year- long sabbatical. He spent half of it seeking out and defeating the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald, and the other half recovering from the ordeal under the care of Miss Minerva McGonagall. The two were forced to change locations several times during his recovery due to the persistence of several reporters. In the process, he proposed and she accepted. They were married this summer at an undisclosed location in a small ceremony attended only by close friends and family of the bride and groom. Those same friends and family are the only ones aware of where the new bride and groom are now residing and this reporter suggests that those who are not in either group not even bother trying to contact either. 'The Daily Prophet' would like to extend their congratulations to the happy couple.
Conner Cleas, Daily Prophet reporter.
"What did I tell you, my dear?" Albus looked down at his new wife. "He was the only reporter who remained in London. He did not even camp outside your home with the others."
She sighed and curled up against him. "I am aware of that, Albus, but I am not sure if letting him announce our marriage was a good idea."
"Would you rather I receive proposals from witches I do not even know?" he asked, blue eyes twinkling merrily.
She chuckled. "You have me there, Albus, but it is not a pleasant idea to ponder."
"Perhaps I can give you something else to ponder?" he suggested, wrapping his arms around her.
She smiled and met his kiss halfway. Still kissing her, he lowered her to the bed and, she mused later, it was an excellent way to take her mind off unpleasant things.