Vier

Minerva smiled as she moved her tower over the chess board, quick brain as usual anticipating his next move- and she knew she'd won as, indeed, he moved his queen two squares to the left.

"Checkmate, Albus."

She couldn't keep the tiniest hint of triumph out of her voice as, with a grin, the auburn-haired man sitting opposite her bowed his head and spread his arms in defeat.

"Alas, my dear, once more you have outwitted this poor old man."

A rather unladylike snort was the only answer to his mocking assumption, and with a smile and a swish of her wand, Minerva moved the chess board back to the shelf where it belonged. Leaning back into her chair, the young woman shook her head, a faint, amused smile on her lips.

"A poor old man without any grey hairs who turns out to be the most powerful wizard of this time? I'm sure."

His smile was a true one- yet there was something of an absent expression in his blue eyes, and Minerva found herself slightly leaning forward as an uncharacteristic sigh left the wizard's lips.

"And yet, Minerva, sometimes I do feel old. I am eighty years your senior, my dear."

"And yet, Albus, I have never considered you as a man who could technically be my father or grandfather. You are not a very innocent-grandfatherly type, I fear."

Their noses were nearly touching as an uncharacteristically playful grin came over her lips. In his eyes, there was only surprise, though- and question, too, floating somewhere under the surface, in silence.

"Minerva-"

"Albus."

Every trace of teasing, of the light atmosphere of an instant earlier, was easily chased away by this one word- by this one word, pronounced softly, like a baby bird flying for the very first time, urged out of the nest by its mother and her natural instinct of necessity. A taste of freedom- a taste of life, and it was exactly that which Albus craved as slowly, gently, Albus rested a tentative hand against the pale, soft cheek of the young witch who had come to mean so very much to him.

"Minerva."

He called out her name as if asking for an answer to all questions asked, being asked or about to be asked- and knew he'd got his answer as tenderly, her lips came to cover his in an embrace of sweet melancholy and adoration.

Their kiss was one of fever, of ardour- and not the one to be stopped, for both of them knew that, unlike millions of other couples during the thousands of years before, it was possible that they did not "have the time". That they would not have the chance to grow old together- that for them, it was very likely that there would not be a quiet and peaceful tomorrow to think things over properly.

All they had, and all they were and could be sure of, was their love, and when Albus, moments later, picked the young woman up in his arms, a question for permission obvious in his now endlessly tender blue eyes, Minerva did not have to think. She simply nodded.

His lips crushing down on hers was all reassurance she needed as gently, she was laid down on his bed, closing her eyes in the process. The tremble of his fingers as they, slowly, almost timidly, started opening the top buttons of the practical, green robe she wore held every single bit of the expectation of one opening the door to the most wondrous and precious gift he had ever craved- and yet all that was totally lost in the sensation of finally- finally- having their lips meeting in the embrace they had both longed for so very badly.

Every single inch of newly exposed skin was treasured- honoured- worshipped by his lips, and when her robe lay carelessly thrown on the floor in a corner of the room, Minerva was panting lightly, pushing his robes off his shoulders, hands guided by an emotion she had never even thought she would be capable of feeling.

As- finally- all thoughts of clothes belonged to a faraway and long forgotten past, Albus found himself staring down at the young woman in his bed in wonder and delight- and only one word found its way to his lips in the end.

"Perfect..."

And that, indeed, she was. Albus released a breath he didn't know he was holding as he took in the sight of the young, Scottish woman- skin pale and glimmering, almost translucent in the moonlight, long, black hair spread out under her head, eyes closed in something very close to a delirious anticipation- breath quickening considerably as Albus tenderly allowed his hand to touch the top of her left breast.

As his mouth covered hers again, he could feel her smile against his lips and her hands drew circles on his bare back, sensuously and gently, and it was with a voice more hoarse than usual that he spoke up again, forehead leaning against hers in the darkness of the room.

"Minerva, are you sure of this? We can- we can always-"

Her teasing smile along with the drops of sweat on her forehead convinced him just as much as her words as slowly, she shook her head.

"I don't think we can, Albus."

As he realized she was referring to the none too subtle pressure against her left thigh, the most powerful wizard of his age coloured crimson as if he were a girl of four.

"Minerva…"

"Yes, Albus. My answer is yes."

They were finally, finally united sheer moments later, and as Albus looked into Minerva's eyes, finding there only longing and adoration, he knew he had made the right decision- he knew they had both made the right decision.

As they quickened their pace, proving their obvious mutual love once more and once more on the stairway to heaven, there was no war anymore, no pain, no danger- only love, and to that love they were paying tribute.

The pent up expectation inside of both of them exploded mere seconds later, and they were still muttering the other's name as, finally, they cuddled up to each other beneath the light, summer sheets of the bed.

A memorable night indeed…

And yet it was with tears in her eyes that Minerva woke up.