Chapter 3: Your Wife or Your Socks!
"Albus?" Minerva called. The year was now 1953. While Albus still occasionally received fan mail or other odd requests, his devotion to Minerva had been nothing short of stellar. Minerva lifted herself up off the bed and waddled to the window. Lightly, she ran her hands over her rapidly expanding stomach. The set of twins that Poppy Pomfrey informed her that she was carrying were just beginning to kick inside her. She was sure they would give one another bruises before they even left her womb. Minerva mentally replayed Poppy's voice in her head saying that she needed to relax this time. Albus and Minerva had become pregnant with their first child early in their marriage, around 1948, but it was never meant to be. This child emerged from Minerva's body stillborn, and Minerva couldn't quite seem to forgive herself. Albus had taken the baby's death very hard, and even though Poppy tried to console them and remind them that there was nothing they could have done, Minerva blamed herself, and Albus continued to mourn. All of this subconsciously prevented them from having children over the next few years, even though Albus managed slowly to move on. Minerva's fear of delivering another stillborn haunted her dreams, and it had only been through Poppy's intervention and Albus' encouragement that Minerva had been able to release herself from her fears and 'allow' her body to conceive. The pair had been thrilled to hear that they were carrying twins. They felt like God was somehow 'making up' for the past seven empty years.
Albus appeared as commanded and wrapped his arms around Minerva's middle.
"You called, my darling?" he asked, his tone betraying unhurried happiness.
"Could we go for a walk, Albus? I could really use the fresh air!" Minerva asked. Albus kissed her neck and Minerva could feel the curve of the smile on his face.
"Of course, my love. A good jaunt around the grounds may do us both good," Albus said, moving to retrieve Minerva's cloak from the closet.
As they left the castle, Minerva took a deep breath of the fresh breeze about them and tucked her hand into the crook of Albus' arm. After they had walked a little ways from the castle, Minerva brought up the fact that they still did not have names for the twins, even though they were nearing their due date. The great witch and wizard tossed about many, many names. They tried traditional ones, English ones, Scottish ones, elaborate ones, unusual ones and everything in between.
"How about this," Albus said as they neared the tree row near the lake, "Molly Guinevere for a girl." Minerva smiled.
"I like the name Molly. I've always liked the name Quentin. How about that for a boy?" Minerva asked. An after thought struck her and she blurted, "Quentin Lancelot."
Albus laughed at her indulgence of his word games. The name issue settled, the pair returned to the castle. Minerva went to lie down before dinner and Albus went to his office for a while to finish some last minute work before the evening. He made an effort to spend his evenings with Minerva whenever possible. She was the single most important thing in his life, and now that she was carrying not one but two of his children, she was more important to him now than ever.
As he worked, Albus softly hummed a tune. He was mildly distracted by the way his wife and their unborn children seemed to be ever present in his thoughts. Just as he seemed to knuckle down and concentrate, he would begin to daydream about what is was going to be like to be a father. He smiled and continued his work.
The next morning, a cool, rainy Saturday, Albus gingerly rose from the warm bed he shared with Minerva and winced as his aging feet touched the cold floor. One would think after as long as he had been alive, that he would be used to it, but for some reason, nothing seemed to take away that reaction. Albus shuffled to the bathroom and softly shut the door behind him.
As he stood in the bathroom, he heard the sound of their bedsprings creaking. Minerva must have awakened also. Albus resolved to make his morning routine quicker than usual so that she could use the bathroom. When one has to perform every function for not just one's self, but for two others as well, it cut down severely on one's patience for anyone else in the facility that you need.
Albus listened for Minerva's footsteps on the floor but didn't hear them. He finished quickly and pulled open the bathroom door. He looked out over their bed and found it empty. Frantically, he looked about, hoping to find her hiding in some corner of the room to scare him, but she didn't appear. He saw that their bedroom window was open and panicked. What had happened? Could Minerva have fallen? He rushed to the ledge and looked out, but he didn't find any trace of her. Numb, he sat back on the bed and rubbed his eyes. As he rested his weight on the bed, he heard the crunch of a piece of parchment beneath him. Pulling this out, he read it with shaking hands. Minerva had been kidnapped and the perpetrator demanded one thousand gold galleons. Albus rested his hands in his lap and stared out the open window. It seemed a petty amount for someone who was to him, worth his life.
Albus flicked his wand and made their bed, pausing to smooth away a wrinkle. He never was much for domestic spells. He looked again at the note. The demands were absurd. In addition to the money, they wanted a large bag of chocolate cockroaches, and, perhaps most damaging of all, they wanted a pair of Albus' socks. Albus winced for a fraction of a second before going to his wardrobe to retrieve the socks requested in the letter. They were Albus' favorites: a pair that Minerva herself had knitted for him. Gritting his teeth and reminding himself that when he got Minerva back, he could convince her to knit him another pair, he apparated to the site described in the ransom note with the money, the chocolate, and the socks in hand.
When Minerva awoke, she found herself, not in her husband's arms--though that, in itself was not unusual. He often woke before she did these days-- nor the bed they had shared all through their marriage. She was lying in a narrow bed with a lumpy mattress and threadbare blankets. The pillow was rather flat, too. Blinking, she looked around to see that she was in a dilapidated room with rather worn and shabby furnishings. Sitting in a chair by the door was a woman who fit the stereotypical muggle image of a witch, a large, crooked hooked nose, several facial warts, and other distinctive anomalies.
"Oh, I'm so glad you're awake!"
"Excuse me," Minerva ignored the smile on the other woman's face, "but where am I?"
The woman got up and shuffled closer to the bed. "My home in Hogsmeade. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind?" Minerva asked, incredulity lacing her voice. She was Merlin-knew- where with a woman she didn't know and she wondered if Minerva minded! "No, of course I don't mind being taken from my bed and home in the middle of the night to be brought here."
"Could you please tell me your name?" Minerva asked, wanting to know the name of the person she was inches from killing on the spot.
She stared at Minerva for a moment before hitting her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I'm sorry, how rude of me. I'm Calliope Creevey." A grin spread across her face. "And you're Albus Dumbledore's wife."
"My name is Minerva." She'd had this happen often before. People would recognize her as Albus' wife, not Minerva. It was a bit annoying. "May I ask why I am here?"
The woman grinned and nodded, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Because we want to meet your husband!"
Minerva blinked, startled. "What do you mean, 'we'?"
"Oh, my husband, Bertram and I," Calliope explained, her voice cheerfully sweet. "We're both Squibs and this was the only way we could think of to meet the great Albus Dumbledore."
Her voice became reverent at the end and it was all Minerva could do to hold in an exasperated sigh. "You do realize that this is kidnapping and you could go to prison?"
"How else can we meet the Wizard Who Defeated Grindelwald?" Calliope asked, yellow eyes wide with surprise.
Minerva buried her face in her hands. 'I cannot believe I'm having this conversation.' She looked up. "Now what are you going to do?"
"Wait for Professor Dumbledore--" the reverence in her tone made Minerva grit her teeth, "--to arrive, of course."
Feeling very much as if she was talking to a child, Minerva asked, "And when do you expect him to arrive?"
"Oh, he'll show up, eventually," was the airy reply, accompanied by an equally-airy wave of her hand. The airiness of the gesture was lost when the many rings on her fingers got caught in her blonde hair. "Drat these rings! They're always getting in the way!" Minerva shook her head just as her stomach rumbled reminding her that she hadn't eaten since last night. "May I have something to eat?"
"Oh, sure, of course!" Calliope rushed from the room, almost tripping over the chair in her haste.
Minerva shook her head again and sighed. "Albus, I hope you arrive soon. I'm not sure how long I can stand these people."
Albus stared up at the shabby shack he'd appeared in front of. This is where he was supposed to rescue his wife? "Something tells me this is not quite what I thought." Checking to make sure he had everything, he made his way to the front door and knocked. It rattled badly on its hinges with each rap.
After a short wait, the door opened to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with mousy brown hair and hazel eyes. "Bertram Creevey?"
"Bless my soul," he breathed, "Albus Dumbledore."
Albus raised his eyebrows at this. "Yes, I am he."
"Come in, come in." The man stepped back and gestured for Albus to enter. He did so with some trepidation, absently wondering if the rickety building would fall down on them if he made one wrong move. "Callie! He's here!"
There was a clattering sound that grew louder until a small, petite woman appeared, blue-gray eyes wide with wonder and reverence. "Albus Dumbledore."
"Would either of you mind telling me what is going on?" Albus asked, beginning to feel his considerable patience wear thin. "I received a note stating that, if I wanted my wife alive, I would be here with one thousand galleons, a large bag of chocolate cockroaches, and a pair of my socks."
The woman tugged on the man's arm, whispering, "Go ahead, Bertie."
"Give me a minute, Callie," he whispered back. Clearing his throat and straightening up to his full height, he stared straight at Albus and gravely intoned, "Your wife or your socks!" The gravity of the statement was ruined by the smile that immediately spread across the large man's face. "I've always wanted to say that!" Husband and wife giggled and laughed and jumped up and down. Albus was having serious thoughts of a certain killing curse. Or perhaps a well-placed memory charm. Whatever he decided to do, he had to do it soon. There was only so much of this he could take. Dropping the objects on the table, Albus set off past the couple and peered into the hallway.
"Where is my wife?" Albus asked, wondering how many rooms were in the plain dwelling.
"Oh! She's--"
"She's right here," said Minerva, carefully stepping around objects in the hallway. It wasn't easy to keep her belly from hitting things in the narrow passage. Albus took her hand to steady her and lead her toward the door.
"Wait! Do stay for dinner!" Calliope cried.
"You'll forgive us if we politely decline. I've had about as much excitement as I can stand in one day," Minerva replied tartly, resting one hand over her abdomen. Albus took this as their cue to exit and the two flagged down a carriage to return them to the school. They could have simply apparated to the school grounds, but with Minerva pregnant, they didn't want to take any chances. They didn't know if there were any side effects to apparition, even though Poppy assured them that there were none that were known to the wizarding medical community. It just wasn't worth the risk.
When finally they returned to the school, Minerva was quite tired and Albus was behind on several bits of work that should have been done that morning. Retiring to their quarters, no one in the castle heard a peep out of them until much later that day.
Albus tiptoed up to the bedroom he shared with Minerva. She was lying on their bed, a blanket spread over her legs. She was awake and appeared to be deep in thought. Albus crept up to the bed and lay down beside her. Gently, he stroked her hair and then her face. Minerva smiled. Lightly, she leaned forward and kissed Albus' lips. Albus leaned into the kiss, sending a shiver down Minerva's spine. It had been months since they had been intimate.
"Minerva, I wonder if you would indulge me something," Albus asked.
"Anything."
"Poppy informs me that sexual intimacy is not detrimental to pregnancy," Albus replied, hoping she would not think him insensitive for asking for it. Minerva chuckled a moment.
"Oh Albus, please, indulge away!"
That August, Minerva insisted on attending the Quidditch World Cup game between the Holyhead Harpies and Heidelberg Harriers with Albus.
"My love, is that wise?"
"Albus, Rolanda is my friend," Minerva patiently explained. "If I were the one playing and she were pregnant, she would be at the game anyway." Albus smiled, even as he gave in.
"Well, Rolanda would have to find a husband before getting herself pregnant."
"Stewart would gladly volunteer, I am sure," Minerva smirked, beginning to go through their clothes to determine what they would need. Albus chuckled before slipping his arms around her from behind and resting his long-fingered hands on her abdomen.
"I am glad that Poppy will be there, too."
"Yes, and Alastor, Stewart, Milo, Mira, Griffith, Rremly, Loupe, Irma, Arabelle, Fianna, Daniel, and Bella," Minerva reeled off the names of their other friends without pausing in her packing. Another chuckle was all the warning she received before Albus took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. She kissed him back for only a few moments before returning her attention to their clothes. Albus frowned for a moment before gently drawing her away from the wardrobe and turning her in his arms.
"Minerva, we still have a few days."
"Our clothes won't pack themselves," she objected before he kissed her again. She resisted for all of two seconds before winding her arms around his neck and returning it. He deepened the kiss, making her shudder in his arms. When he pulled back, her face was flushed, her eyes were darker than usual, and her lips were slightly swollen. Without another word, she drew his head back down to hers for another kiss.
Two weeks later, Minerva was beginning to wonder if she'd made the right decision. The Harpies and Harriers had been playing for six days straight and were well into their seventh day. Poppy had insisted that Minerva go to bed every night, having scolded her for coming in the first place when she and Albus had arrived for the game itself. Minerva had agreed, only if Albus would be there with her. With the twins due pretty much any day now, Minerva did not want to be too far from her husband. Albus had agreed because he wanted his wife to be careful. The others promised to record everything on their Omnioculars so Albus and Minerva wouldn't miss much. When Rolanda hit a Bludger so it stopped a Quaffle from scoring, all fifteen of them jumped to their feet and yelled, hollered, and screamed for all their worth, glad that their friend was playing so well. As she stood between Albus and Alastor, watching Rolanda, Minerva felt a sharp stab of pain in her abdomen and gasped.
"Min, is something wrong?"
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" Minerva asked Alastor with a smile, even as she tugged at her husband's sleeve. He dipped his head so they could speak without trying to yell over the cheers of the people around them. "Yes, my dear?"
"Albus, I think it's time," she told him. Instead of looking concerned, as she'd expected, he looked skeptical.
"Perhaps it's just the excitement."
"No, Albus," she insisted before another pain made itself known, causing her to double over. He sounded concerned as he immediately wrapped his arms around.
"Or perhaps not." They carefully made their way from the stands, collecting Poppy along the way. Poppy and Albus made Minerva comfortable in the tent Albus and Minerva had invested in for long Quidditch games. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary two-person tent. Inside, it strongly resembled their home in Britain, except it was one floor instead of two. At the moment, Minerva didn't really care. The babies wanted out, and they wanted out NOW! As the new parents marveled over their newborn twins, a whirlwind in forest green Quidditch robes and topped by tawny hair pulled back into a ponytail barged into the tent. "How dare you have your babies without me?"
"Er, Ro, dear, you were playing in the game of the century," Poppy pointed out from where she stood between Alastor and Stewart. Rolanda waved it off, yellow eyes flashing. "That doesn't matter! One of my best friends is having babies and I'm not informed?! What is the world coming to? Despite what you may think of me, I do NOT consider Quidditch the be-all and end-all of existence! There are more important things in the world, like friends and fam-mmph!"
She'd been cut off mid-word by Stewart's mouth on hers. For all of two seconds, she stood frozen as he continued to kiss her. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him back. When he lifted his head, she looked dazed. It didn't take long for her to pull his head back down to hers for another kiss.
"About ruddy time, I say!"
"Griff?"
"Yes, Mira?"
"Shut it."
"Why? Mmph!"
Laughter rang out as the Kestrals' Seeker suddenly found himself being soundly kissed by Mira Camden, one of the most popular authors in the wizarding world.
"Serves you right, Bro!"
Griffith took his time finishing the kiss. "Sis, you focus on Stew, I'll focus on Mira. How's that?"
"Suits me fine," Stewart commented, pulling Rolanda into another kiss.
"And me," Mira added before kissing Griffith again.
The new parents celebrated the birth of their children with their friends while England celebrated the Harpies' triumph over the Harriers. An exhausted Poppy gladly returned to the tent she shared with her own husband, Alastor. He was content to hold her in his arms as she slept and wonder if they would have children of their own someday.