Chapter Fourteen

Poppy closed her book as somewhere in the hospital, a clock struck three. She felt in her cheeks the irritating pain of a suppressed yawn- then simply obeyed her body and yawned. Stretching out her chubby arms, she realized she felt terribly drowsy, and shrugged her shoulders. She'd waited up half of the night- simply so she could tell Albus the happy news should he arrive. It was stupid, of course. He hadn't arrived any of the previous nights- and if the man had any common sense left in his body, he'd probably not arrive this night, too... And she was so very tired.

Yes, perhaps it was true what Mona Tonks had said as she'd popped in around eight o'clock- right before the end of her shift. Perhaps Poppy should just for once use the bed that had been made for her in the next room, and have a good night's rest. She'd been awake for nearly two full days now, and honestly, nurse or not, one did start to get tired. A smile graced her lips as soon as her head hit the pillow.

So when, sheer moments later, a wrinkled, thin hand softly- careful not to make too much noise- pushed open the dark wooden door of the hospital room, Poppy simply went on sleeping in the other room, unknowing of the man who'd just entered her friend's chamber. For it was true.

Albus Dumbledore was standing in the door-opening of his wife's hospital room.

His back more arched than ever, pale, parchment-like cheeks stained by silent tears- yes, the proud Headmaster was looking older than ever, and no, he didn't look as if he cared in the least.

He'd escaped Rosmerta's all-seeing eye just half an hour earlier- she'd forbidden him to leave the pub, and honestly, he hadn't exactly felt like leaving after the first anger and sadness had subsided. He had felt empty like never before- and the reason of his emptiness lay- or better, did not lie- in the bed before him.

The form beneath the sheets slightly stirred as he stepped closer- but she did not wake up, for which he was very grateful. Her tall, cat-like figure was curled up into a ball, and he couldn't but notice faint tear-stains on her sleep-flustered cheeks.

"Oh Minerva, I am so sorry for you."

This was not entirely true, for if he was honest with himself, he had to say he was sorry for both of them, for them as a couple- and most of all, for the unborn child that both of them would have loved more than life itself.

But it was too late, he reminded himself as he silently sat down beside her, on the bed. Softly stroking her arched back, he almost smiled, were it not for the tears in his eyes. She stirred again beneath his hand, and as he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead, he felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks

If only.

If only he'd been there, on that horrible night- if only he'd not make the Minister try to arrest him. If only he'd been more careful- if only he'd listened to her and let her go with him.

If only he had been a better husband.

He didn't deserve her, he never had- he'd known that from the very start of their relationship onwards. He wouldn't have been angry at her had she left him- him, who was always busy with the school or the Ministry, with Voldemort and the Order. He, who despite his obvious love, adoration, for her, had always had so much to worry about... But she had not left.

She'd been there for him, instead.

Always- when he'd thought he would lose it, she'd been there to lean on. When both of them cried, she was the one to suppress her tears and wipe his tears away; When both of them were scared, it was not him, brave, great Albus Dumbledore who'd comforted her, but the other way round. She'd held him, soothed him, and never ever had she so much as asked for one world of thanks.

And now she'd lost what she wanted the most- because of him.

He was crying as he wrapped his arms closely around her sleeping form, and hid his face in her hair as quiet sobs kept escaping her throat.

"Minerva, I am sorry. I am so sorry, you know that, darling? For everything- for this blasted life, for all that I could not offer you... for the pain I caused you, and the tears... and... and for the child that never lived..."

He pulled her even closer still, shaking his head in anguish.

"I understand if you'd leave me, Min. Please know that. But I love you. I do love you, Minerva."

His surprise couldn't have been greater as a all of a sudden, the form he held hugged so closely against him turned around, and a sleepy, hoarse but honest voice was heard.

"And I love you, Albus. Forever and for always, as our wedding vows said."

Unable to speak, he helplessly smiled and nodded his head- but the tears in his eyes were painfully obvious, and noticing them, Minerva smiled as she tenderly, slowly, kissed his lips.

"Don't cry anymore, my only one."

And with this, she merely grabbed his shaking hand and let it down again to rest on her own stomach. He stared at her non-understandingly- only to read, in her very eyes, the epitome of love bound with the very essence of pride, and even before his long, wiry fingers felt the slight swelling right under her heart, he knew.

He didn't know how to express the stream of joy suddenly rushing through his veins- so he did the only think he possibly could do.

He kissed her.

And everything was fine.