Nothing At All, a harry potter fanfic

Author Note: My Christmas present to all AD/MM shippers on earth! A very merry Christmas to you and your loved ones!

Nothing At All

1939

Albus Dumbledore smiled as he entered the Great Hall on that day. The Yule Ball had just started, and he suddenly had a feeling as if having not enough heads to nod at all people who waved, smiled or just simply nodded at him. He knew he was not an unpopular teacher, after all- well-liked by both students and teachers because of the kind of cheerful enthusiasm he tried to spread in everything he did.

And however glad he was because of that relative popularity of his, there was only one smile being flashed at him which he answered with more than an automatic grin of his own. Her brilliant green eyes shone above the dark red- Gryffindor- dress she was wearing, and once more the Transfiguration Professor's breath was caught in his throat as he lay eyes on his Head Girl.

Minerva McGonagall was a damn pretty girl indeed- and yet there was one part of her which attracted him even more than her beautiful face or slender figure. It was that typical, witty mind of hers. Some students thought her overly serious- even a prude, he knew, but he also knew that that was not true. Her sense of humour was- dry, and different, but certainly not absent.

As he managed to steal her hand for the third dance- a waltz- he all of a sudden knew that nothing in the world could ever compare to waltzing with Minerva McGonagall. Not only was she a good dancer, elegant in that strange, cat-like way of hers, she was also the kind of dancing partner whom could steal his heart and mind with one blink of those big, green eyes of hers. And in that respect, she was one of a kind indeed.

As the music faded again and he realized that he should remove his hand from her waist now, a sudden, bizarre feeling took hold of him and his voice all of a sudden got a mind of its own.

"Minerva…"

"Yes, Professor? What's it?"

And it was over. The innocence on her face- the trust in her eyes- the almost beatific way her pale face was surrounded by those dark locks of hers- he could not spoil it. And yet, in his heard, he heard that alto voice of hers- speak words unheard as he heard words unspoken…

"Nothing…"

It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart
Without saying a word, you can light up the dark
Try as I may I can never explain
What I hear when you don't say a thing.

1945

Minerva McGonagall felt rather uncomfortable as she entered the room in which the Ministry of Magic's annual Christmas Ball would be held. She, being an Auror, had of course been invited- but she wouldn't have attended had she not known for sure that he would be there. He, Albus Dumbledore- since barely two months the brand new hero and saviour of the wizarding world. He had defeated Grindelwald in Germany, while Minerva, being the youngest of the Aurors, had been forced to remain in Britain to, as the Minister had put it, "make sure the peace was not disturbed". She mentally snorted as she remembered those last, two years. The peace. Which peace? There had not been a day without incidents- muggles being hexed, wizards being killed, Unforgivable Curses being used. It had not been a boring time, as she'd feared at first, but somehow she had always felt that this wasn't why she had become an Auror in the first place. She had and still was blaming herself for not sneaking off the Germany, where she would most probably been able to put her talents to better use. And yet she hadn't, and in a way she was proud because of that as well. Duty was not an empty word to her, and after all she had been useful in Britain too. And yet.

As he entered, and she noticed the eyes of every single female in the room lingering on him, Minerva knew for sure she'd never have a chance with him. She had never considered herself so much as reasonably pretty- had never thought it very important either, but all of a sudden, it seemed to matter.

Her surprise couldn't have been greater when he- causing all females in the room to send envious glares at her- took a seat next to her, started a conversation and even asked her hand for the first dance.

She smiled and nodded, though. For a moment, she had really forgotten about the person Albus, had only been able to see the hero Albus, and she scolded herself for it. She was not as superficial as all other women in the room- she would not swoon over him just because the fame he had recently achieved.

And yet she could not but melt as her head came to rest against his shoulder and she felt his soft, slow breath almost- tenderly touching her pale cheeks. As the music faded and their eyes locked again, a faint muttering reached her ears- and only with a slight feeling of surprise did she realize that it was her own voice.

"Albus-"

"Yes, Minerva? What's it?"

And she couldn't. All of a sudden, she couldn't- she couldn't speak those terrible, crucial words- she could not disappoint him, she could not make him think that she, too, had fallen victim to that horrible hunger for fame which possessed most of the people in the room.

"Nothing..."

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall
You say it best ....when you say nothing at all

1956

He could not have been more delighted when she, exactly on Christmas Day, accepted the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts-teacher at Hogwarts- except, perhaps, had she accepted another, more personal offer of his. Then again he knew that he could never ask her that. Many things had happened the past years- and every single thing reminded him over and over again that despite everything, he was not in his twenties anymore. He was reaching middle age, even according to wizarding standards, while she was- well, undoubtedly much younger than he. He had left Hogwarts even before her grandparents had started there- and his love for her was, thought at least inside of his mind now out in the open, still unthinkable. And one-sided, he rather bitterly added. A young, pretty, free woman like her probably had too many things on her mind to ever give an old man, like he was, a second glance.

And yet she was rather nice to him as he, according to Headmaster Dippet's orders, showed her the quarters that would remain hers during her whole career at Hogwarts. She seemed very pleased with them indeed- and when he wanted to leave as quick as possible, figuring she would most probably want some time of her own, she even called him back. He gladly obeyed- and he realized that conversing with her was still as easy to him as it ever was. He knew that, though she would teach DADA now, Transfiguration was her real passion, and with the eyes of his mind he tasted many, blissful moments of having the opportunity to listen to the products of her ever-witty mind in the future.

And as she prepared and poured him a cup of tea, the trust and honesty in her focused eyes graced his lips with a smile.

"Minerva?"

A strange silence filled the room as he realized his hand was on top of hers- and once more, his courage left him, standing there with love in his heart and a cup of Earl Grey in his hand.

"Yes, Albus? What- what's it?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

And he sighed.

"Nothing..."

All day long I can hear people talking out loud
But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd
Try as they may they could never define
What's been said between your heart and mine

1974

The Yule Ball had just started, when Minerva McGonagall entered the Great Hall with a big sigh on her lips. Here she went again, and though the emerald green dress she wore was new, the woman inside of it was old. Or at least that was the way she felt.

She knew she was not ancient or something- had not even reached middle age yet- but somehow, she felt many years above that rational, thoroughly meaningless number which changed every year and which was called "her age". Prim and stern, she knew that she had the respect of her students, and though it satisfied her as a teacher, it kind of scared her as a woman who had once been a student herself. It was strange to explain, but sometimes she just felt as if they regarded her as some immortal and thoroughly scary deity- as some ice queen who had never known love and would never know love either.

How wrong they were indeed. As the purple-clad man with the twinkling blue eyes and the auburn-greyish beard smiled and waved at her, she nodded, a brilliant smile immediately fixed on her lips. She had known love and she still knew love. An unrequited and entirely one-sided love, of course, but still a love.

Many years had passed since she'd first met him- many years had passed since she'd first fallen in love with him. She'd been barely fourteen when once, her friend Rolanda Hooch had been telling a story about one of her latest crushes, when young Minerva, a calm, intelligent girl, had realized that if that was love, she was in love with her teacher.

And she'd grown older- fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, even, and slowly she had given up every hope to ever outgrow that "stupid, schoolgirl infatuation" of hers. Sometimes she had even had some hope- but just as many times her hopes had been crushed, and slowly but surely, she had started to build a wall around her heart. A wall which even he would never be able to take down- at least, that she had promised herself.

But as he, politely, correctly, asked her hand for a waltz like he'd done so many times before, she realized that it had all been nothing more than self-deceit. She knew now, all of a sudden, why she'd never been able to smother that "infatuation" of hers. Because it had become the very essence of herself, over all those years.

And she could hope and despair with all her heart- she would never get rid of it. She even didn't know whether she wanted to.

"Albus?"

Once more she had surprised herself. His hand, resting casually on her hip like so many time before, stiffened- and for some reason, she drew courage from that movement.

"Yes, Minerva, what's it?"

"I love you."

2004

Minerva Dumbledore-McGonagall opened her eyes on that very particular Christmas morning, just to look straight into the sapphire blue orbs of the best Christmas present she had ever received. As she turned around in bed, thus ending up stomach to stomach atop of her husband, she grinned as his hands found their way to her hips.

"Good morning, my love. Slept well?"

She rolled her eyes and kissed him on the very tip of this crooked nose, a strange, mischievous, typically Christmas sort of twinkle in her cat-green eyes.

"Mmmh… Albus?"

He smiled as she rested her head on his beard, lovingly stroking her cheek in the process.

"Yes, my love?

"In memory of thirty years ago, I suggest we skip the Yule Ball tonight."

He wiggled his eyebrows as she raised her head again, yet asked the question he knew she wanted him to ask.

"Oh? What will we be doing then?"

"I am inviting you to a date."

She freed herself from his arms and sat up in bed, grinning as he stretched out his arms towards her, a begging look in his eyes.

"Min- okay, what will you be wearing?"

And as Minerva McGonagall got to her feet and started walking towards the bathroom door, she turned around just once.

"Nothing."

And she blew him a kiss.