Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.

This story is dedicated to scattered logic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help.

Chapter Twenty Three: Resigned

When the Gargoyle shifted aside to allow her entrance, Minerva reluctantly took her place on the moving stairway and let it deposit her in front of Albus Dumbledore's office door. Gently, she laid her hand on the shining wood and simply stood there for a moment…remembering. She'd stood before this door far too many times to ever count. Usually, she was preoccupied with something, frustrated over some annoying incident, or angry over some trivial problem. Perhaps worried about a student, but no matter how she was feeling when she arrived, she could always count on feeling better after she'd been here for awhile.

The man who lived beyond this door had always been supportive of her whenever she'd needed him. The two of them had fought many battles and weathered many storms together, but this time…this time would be different. This time she couldn't share her burden with him. It wasn't likely that he could do anything to help her, and it wouldn't be proper for her to drag him or the school down with her personal problems. Hogwarts, and Albus himself, had been through far too much turmoil over the last couple of years. She simply couldn't bear to be responsible for embroiling them in yet another scandal. No matter how much she wished it were different, Albus wouldn't be able to help her today, and as she fingered the scroll in her pocket, she knew that when she left his office after talking to him, she'd be feeling worse, not better.

Determined to get through this without breaking down, Minerva straightened her spine and squared her shoulders; then she took a deep breath and knocked firmly on the door. The voice that bade her enter was its usual lively self, and she couldn't help but smile to hear it.

When she entered the room, she found Albus Dumbledore standing in front of a pair of house-elves, each of whom was holding up a bolt of brightly colored fabric for his inspection.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall, excellent! Just the very person I need. You have a keen eye and wonderful taste. Come, help me make a decision." The Headmaster beamed at her and eagerly beckoned her closer.

With a bemused smile on her face, she closed the door behind her and crossed over to stand next to her friend. "How can I help you, Albus?" she asked politely.

"You can give me your valued opinion. I've been thinking that my wardrobe has been getting rather boring of late, so I've made up my mind to have a new robe made up for Christmas this year, and I'm trying to decide which fabric to use. I've narrowed it down to these two here." He waved at the bolts held up by the always cooperative elves. More bolts of discarded fabrics of many assorted colored and types were piled high in the nearby chairs. Apparently, he'd been at this for some time.

"I'm rather favorably disposed towards the red, of course," he confided with a conspiratorial air, "and it would be very Christmasy, but Severus recently pointed out that wearing red all the time does tend to make me look somewhat partial, and perhaps I should consider wearing a color that doesn't specifically represent one or the other of the houses. So I was thinking…maybe purple. What do you think?" With a hopeful expression, he glanced over the rim of his spectacles at her.

Albus would never change, thank goodness. She was going to miss him so much. To hide the bright sharp specks of tears that suddenly blurred her vision slightly, she turned away from the Headmaster and considered the two colorful pieces of fabric being held up by the ever patient elves.

One was indeed a very Christmasy piece in a bright red satin with golden bells scattered across it, interspersed with small sprigs of holly. It was exactly the type of fabric that she could see Albus wearing, though she had to concede that Severus had a point, as self-serving as it was. The other piece was a sumptuous purple velvet. It was a very rich and elegant fabric and would no doubt make a stunning robe.

For a moment, a vision of her tall, impressive friend, with his long white beard spread across his chest, standing regally attired in this rich fabric trimmed with ermine fur shot through her mind. It did present a very becoming image, if it wasn't for the small forest animals scattered across the purple background. No matter how aristocratic your bearing, it was hard to look truly impressive when you were wearing sprightly gamboling squirrels and skunks on your clothing. On the other hand, it was just the sort of thing that people would expect to see the Headmaster wearing, and that Albus himself would happily select.

With a pleasant smile on her lips, she shot a sideways glance at the tall wizard beside her. "Well, you don't usually wear a lot of purple, and I do think that it would look quite nice on you. It certainly is a more…stately…fabric than the red is. Is that the look that you were going for?"

The old wizard's bright eyes twinkled merrily, and his rich voice was full of laughter. "Truth be told, my dear, I don't really care how stately it makes me look. I simply desired something festive. The purple would add some needed variety to my wardrobe, though, and I hoped using it might reassure Severus that I truly do valued his advice. He can get quite testy when he thinks his input is being ignored, you know."

"Really? Now there's a surprise," Minerva commented dryly, and the two of them smiled companionably at one another.

Having made his decision, Dumbledore turned happily back to the elves. "I'll take the purple one, Rangely. Tell Madame Malkin to make it up to my usual measurements, and trim it out with some sort of whitish fur. Skunk might be a nice change of pace." He shot a mischievous glance at Minerva, who tried hard not to laugh.

Pleased that their mission had finally been accomplished to everyone's satisfaction, the elves bowed low, gathered their wares, and told the wizard that his wishes would be followed to the letter; then with identical toothy grins on their small, round faces, they both vanished abruptly.

As the number of beings in the office went from four to two in an eye blink, Dumbledore turned back to his remaining visitor with a smile. "Thank you for your help, Minerva. I know that I can always rely on you to give me good advice. What would I ever do without you?"

"You're welcome," she returned with a small hesitant smile, though her good humor had faded with the elves. What would he do? Unfortunately for both of them, he'd have to find out much sooner than he realized.

Dumbledore seemed to sense her sudden uneasiness now that the house-elves were gone, and the distraction they provided had been dealt with. Waving his arm towards the comfortable chairs set before his fire, he invited her to come and sit with him.

"Sit down, sit down, and tell me why you've come." Deftly, he shepherded her to a chair and sat her down in it before taking its opposite number. "I've been rather worried about you lately, my dear. You've been looking very upset, and worn to a frazzle, and you've missed far too many meals for comfort. Has Ian Standish finally told you why he's here, and is the truth truly that upsetting? How can I help?"

Minerva sank more deeply into the chair in front of the fiery blaze and shivered as if she already sat in a cell in the middle of the North Sea. How could she answer this question without revealing the truth that she couldn't bear to discuss? There seemed to be only one way. By being honest…but only to a point.

She dropped her gaze to the warm, thick rug beneath her toes and fidgeted nervously with the fabric of her skirt. "Yes, Albus, Ian has finally told me why he's here, and it really doesn't have anything to do with Voldemort, at least not directly, so you can stop worrying about that. It turns out that once more it's just a case of Ian being greedy, and as his reason is really rather personal, I'm going to ask you to understand when I tell you that I don't wish to discuss it in detail. At least, not at the moment."

A frown of concern settled into the elder wizard's eyes as he watched his friend struggle with something that was obviously painful and difficult.

"Minerva, we've been friends for a long time. Surely you can trust me with this? I do have your best interest at heart, you know, and I only want to help," he said quietly.

Sadly, she shook her head. "It's not really a matter of trust, Albus. I simply can't talk about it. Not now and not with anyone. It's really for the best if you don't know anything about it. In the long run, that will be by far the better thing, I assure you."

Dumbledore reached across the space between them and took her thin, cold hand in the comforting warmth of his own. "Did he hurt you, Minerva?" His voice was soft and filled with concern.

Reluctantly raising her eyes to his, she forced a weak smile. "No. He wasn't able to force himself on me, if that's what you mean. In fact, in a very real way, I think I've injured him as much as he has injured me. I have a feeling that now that he hasn't gotten what he wants, and he's not going to, I assure you, he'll be leaving soon. He's not particularly happy at the moment, and as a result of that, I'm afraid that he might not deliver a very favorable report to the Board. I'm sorry about that."

With a slightly impatient shake of his head, Dumbledore patted her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry about that. There's nothing bad that Ian can truthfully say about this school or the people who teach in her. We'll easily weather anything that he can throw at us in whatever report he makes to the Board. I'm much more concerned about you. Are you sure that I can't help you with this?"

Abruptly, Minerva pulled her hand away from Dumbledore's and stood up. Anxiously, she began to pace back and forth in the small space before his desk like a lioness in a cage. "There really is nothing that you can do for me at the moment, Albus. I have to deal with this problem on my own. It's irrelevant anyway; I didn't come to talk about any of this."

"Oh? Then why did you come?" inquired the troubled wizard as he watched his Transfiguration professor begin to wear a hole in his carpet with her nervous pacing.

With a deep sigh, Minerva came to a dead stop and reluctantly withdrew the roll of parchment from her pocket. She caressed it with stiff fingers for a moment, then turned around swiftly and held it out to the Headmaster before she could lose her nerve and slip it back into hiding.

"I needed to give you this," she whispered in a soft, raspy tone of voice.

Severely concerned now, Dumbledore stood up to face her and took the roll of parchment from her slightly trembling hand. Slowly, he unrolled the scroll and read its contents. As he read, his expression became grimmer and grimmer. Finally, he raised his eyes to hers once more.

"No," he said simply.

"No?" she exclaimed in surprise. "What do you mean, no?"

"No, I won't accept your resignation."

With that calm statement, he attempted to hand the parchment back to her, but she quickly placed her hands behind her back and shook her head. "Oh, please don't make this any harder than it already is. I have to resign. I have no choice about that. It's necessary for the good of the school or I assure you, I wouldn't do it. Please, just take it and let me go." Her painful plea wavered uncertainly on the last word.

"Not without some explanation, Minerva. You owe me that much," Dumbledore said.

"No, I don't." She shook her head sadly. "I owe you my loyalty, and my professional integrity. I may even owe you my friendship, but I don't owe you any information about my personal life that I don't choose to give to you. I did as you asked me to do. I endured Ian's continued presence here. I discovered why he came, but I can't share that information with you. I simply can't. I'm sorry. All I can say is that there's no true danger to the school or anyone else in it, but my staying would put the school at risk from those who would hold a scandal against you. I have to leave now, while there's still time to distance myself from Hogwarts."

"A scandal? My dear, I don't care about any scandal. Nothing in your life could possibly be more scandalous than most of the things in mine. Your life and your safety matter much, much more to me than anything so ephemeral," he exclaimed.

"Oh, Albus, as my friend that might very well be true, but you can't be my friend right now. You have to be the Headmaster of this school, and as such, your obligation is to the school and to those who look to it. No one individual and their problems matters as much. I simply can't remain here, acting as Deputy Headmistress, when I know that to do that will damage the school's reputation. I have to go…now. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing that I can do to change your mind?" he asked plaintively.

"No," she whispered softly. Then before she could think twice about it, and thus hold herself back, she threw herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely for a moment. As he tried to embrace her in return, she pulled sharply back and ran a quick, trembling hand through his beard.

"Goodbye, Albus. Thank you for…" But she couldn't finish, instead she ducked her head once, muttered, "I'm sorry," and fled from the office without a backward glance.

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"Resigned?" Snape's face and voice registered his complete astonishment. "You can't be serious." The bottom dropped out of his stomach and a cold shiver made him flinch before he could stop himself. She couldn't simply leave!

In the flickering glow from the fire, Dumbledore sighed and shook his head wearily as he watched his shocked Potions master sink into a chair before his desk and try to absorb this surprising bit of information. "Oh, but I'm afraid that I am. She was in here earlier today, handing in her resignation. I couldn't seem to talk her out of it. Though I did try."

"But why?" whispered Snape dazedly. This made no sense, but then very little that Minerva had done lately had made sense to him.

"She wouldn't tell me. That's why I'm glad you returned before it got to be too late. I was hoping that you might have better luck finding out her reason for leaving than I did. Perhaps you might even be able to change her mind."

Snape's eyes snapped back into sharp focus at this sudden turn in the conversation, and he frowned at the Headmaster with a small huff of disagreement. "Change Minerva's mind about something? Not bloody likely." Then he hesitated and added softly, "Why me?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Oh, my boy, it's obvious that…" He let his voice trail off at the stiff, guardedness that had come over Snape's expression at his words. Thinking better of what he'd been about to say, he tried a different tack. "You have a way of getting people to tell you things that others lack, Severus. I thought that since begging and cajoling didn't work, perhaps needling and demanding might."

The stiff set of Snape's shoulders relaxed a fraction, though he raised a slightly disapproving brow at Dumbledore's assessment of his interrogation techniques. He could hardly deny them, though.

"Still, if she wouldn't tell you… What about enlisting Pince? They're friends. Surely Minerva would tell her why she was leaving. Don't women always tell each other their secrets?"

"Not in this case. Irma was shocked to hear of Minerva's resignation. Although, apparently they'd already spoken about the possibility of her leaving, at least temporarily. However, Minerva refused to tell her why she had to go."

Snape frowned darkly. "Her leaving must have something to do with Standish. Perhaps it's time to approach that arrogant bastard a bit more directly."

"It's too late for that, I'm afraid. He's gone," said Dumbledore.

"Gone? Just like that?" Surprise once more tinged the Potions master's voice. "The Dark Lord must not be aware of that, as he asked me just this evening how things were progressing. Though he still refused to tell me precisely what Standish had been required to do." He paused and directed a thoughtful glance at Dumbledore. "Do you think his leaving like this, and Minerva's resignation, means that Standish was successful in his mission…or not?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and stroked his flowing beard slowly. "Standish basically barged into my office before dinner, announced that he'd seen enough, and that he'd be leaving immediately. He didn't seem pleased. Minerva told me that she wasn't going to give Standish what he wanted. Standish's reaction certainly bears that out."

"True," agreed Snape. "If that's the case though, why is Minerva resigning? If it was a simple matter of her refusing his sexual advances, and that was all that Standish had been implying he was after, at least to me, then she should be relieved that he was leaving…not leaving herself."

Dumbledore nodded somberly. "That would seem logical." He paused with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Minerva talked about there being some sort of scandal if she stayed, but she didn't explain what she meant by that."

Snape shook his head in puzzlement. "A scandal? What kind of scandal could Minerva possibly be involved in?"

"I have no idea. It made no sense to me. We need to know what he's done to Minerva, Severus, because obviously he's done something to force her to leave us. I don't want her to go."

Snape frowned uneasily. "No, I don't…" he said quietly, then hesitated and tried again "She'd be very difficult to replace."

"Impossible to replace, Severus. Impossible. Find out what happened." Dumbledore's soft tone belied the absoluteness of the order.

Troubled black eyes focused on somber blue ones, and Snape pushed himself to his feet.

"I will do my best," he said, and without any further comment, he whirled around and stalked from the office.

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Next Chapter: Snape tries to get Minerva to talk to him.