Twee

"Albus Dumbledore? I'm sorry, Miss, but we have been asked to not give anyone admission to his rooms. We have had many problems with the press lately."

Now Minerva had gotten her temper quite under control during the past few, disciplined, years- but the nothing less than arrogant expression on the plump Mediwitch's face along with her own fears and worries were almost too much.

Almost- because right as the young, black-haired witch parted her lips in order to utter a rather snappish reply, a familiar, cool, soothing came to rest against her shoulder, and instinctively, Minerva closed her mouth.

"Annabel, it's okay, I know her. She's one of his best friends, a Ministry Auror too- Minerva McGonagall, surely you have heard the name? I will take her to him, I daresay that if anyone should gain entrance…"

Now Minerva usually wasn't too fond of people having heard her name before or recognizing her- she'd always sought to avoid fame as much as possible- but for the first time in her life, the young Auror had to bow for its advantages. Even though the Mediwitch didn't really seem to like this apparent "undermining of her authority", she did step aside, and even gave Minerva something faintly resembling a polite nod as she passed, along with Poppy.

"You saved me there, Pops- thank you."

"I daresay I rather saved Annabel than you, Min."

Minerva couldn't but smile at the teasing look in her friend's light blue eyes- but then became serious again as Poppy came to rest a comforting hand against her shoulder.

"Poppy, is it true?"

Her friend's heart-felt sigh more than confirmed the Daily Prophet's news- and yet Minerva only fully believed it as she saw the twinkles in her usually so merry friend's eyes disappear.

"I fear it is, Minerva. I'm sorry."

The young Auror hardly stirred, though- and it was with a brisk nod and a nearly imperceptible quickening of her pace that Minerva continued her path.

On the inside, though, there was no peace. There wasn't even a trace of the steady determination her outside appearance seemed to show- no calmness, no brisk nod which apparently always managed to make everything alright again.

Minerva had namely discovered something very peculiar years before- something, which she anxiously kept a secret- and it was, that that brisk nod didn't help- not even in the least.

It was a mannerism, a habit of hers- but then again only just that. It didn't help her, except in that way that it highly effectively hid her feelings for the rest of the world, something Minerva had somehow always valued quite a lot. But that was all.

It didn't keep her from wondering, it didn't keep her from fearing, and it certainly did not keep her from crying- with that great and crucial difference, that Minerva's tears were inner tears, buried and hidden for the eyes of the world- but not less hurt, not less painful, and certainly not less present.

Often people made the mistake of overlooking those concealed tears of Minerva- but she did not complain, because that was the mistake she wanted them to make. Her inability to show any weakness was natural- unhealthy, perhaps, but natural- and she could not fight it- or not yet.

Only once before had she let that carefully built up mask of hers down- only once, and that day- night- had only occurred mere months before. Minerva bit her lips in a vain attempt not to feel the pain at the happy memory of that night- of its miracles- of its promises, but found herself failing horribly.

She had truly believed in a future for her- for them- on that night- in fact she had, for the first time ever, that something like a future, a happy one, could ever exist for her.

An orphan before her sixth birthday, brought up in an orphanage which could provide for everything except love, Minerva had always had a somewhat fatalistic view on the years to come. Part of that was the reason why she had decided to start Auror training as well, of course, for though brave and very intelligent, Minerva had never been the one for caution and peace.

She had only realized the reason behind that apparent indifference towards caution as it had been too late already. She had never had someone to care about or to worry about- until he had come. And he had come, ever-present and confusing, yet kind and with that twinkling wink always near-present in those wondrous eyes of his- both eager and capable to make her smile.

She had learnt to feel caution because of his presence in her life, on that very night- on the night of the day that he had left again.

And here she stood, months later, worried and uncertain of herself- and hating it to the point where she didn't know whether it had all been a dream or not, simply because that she wanted to believe.

Minerva released a breath she didn't know she was holding as she leant a hand against the white, disgustingly- sterile- door which would bring her to him.

After a short knock, she entered- and she knew Poppy had been right.