AN: I just wanted to say Thank youuuu for the major responseI've gotten overthis story so far. You guys utterly rock! Please keep the feedback and suggestions coming. I hope you guys enjoy it.
"Minerva! Tabby, sweetheart, open the door!" The banging outside continued. Minerva had turned to stone in his arms, and Albus couldn't understand how she could simply ignore the frantic pounding. Michael's frantic calls were echoing around the small room.
"Minerva?" he questioned softly, relaxing his hold to peer down at her. She sighed and pulled away from him, shaking her head with her eyes closed tightly.
"Might as well," she said, more to herself than Albus. With a wave of her hand, the portrait opened, and her husband bound in, frantically trying to keep his balance. It was never said that Albus Dumbledore was a slow man, but even he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the scene before him.
Michael stumbled in, his trousers unbuttoned, bare footed, and dripping water. In his hands were the clothes she had left behind, and there was a red mark forming just beneath his right ear. Rushing forward, Michael dumped his load on a chair and went to embrace his wife.
To both men's surprise, she stepped into his embrace willingly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. With inward relief, Michael let a grin cover his face as his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him.
Assuming the spat was over and not wishing to intrude, Albus began to back his way out of the room, but stopped when Minerva pulled away. He wasn't sure why, but something didn't seem right. Despite her show of affection, she still resembled a cornered animal, ready to strike.
She was utterly calm, eerily so, as she stood on her toes and began to whisper in Michael's ear, very much aware of Albus' presence even if her husband had yet to pick up on it. "I hope she was worth it," was all she said before stepping out of his arms, looking him directly in the eyes.
Michael's mouth opened and closed, but he could only manage incomprehensible stammers. His eyes were clouded over, a jumble of emotions vying for dominance. He reached out a trembling hand to his wife. "But..Min..I thought..it was you. You have to believe me!" It was the one thing he never should have said. Two pairs of eyes locked on him in that instant, one disbelieving, and another wrathful.
A deep roaring filled Albus' ears as he stared at the man before him, someone he thought he knew. The air around him literally sizzled and he was about to step forward when Minerva caught his eye and shook her head slowly. This was her fight.
Sensing the shift in the room, Minerva came to stand between the two men, blocking Michael from Albus' view. The last thing she needed was to spend her evening cleaning Michael out of the carpet. "Don't Michael, just go. I was there. I know what I saw." Her voice was soft, but he dared not argue with her then. He knew the look in her eye, and the tone of her voice.
Never acknowledging the presence of his best friend, Michael simply turned around and headed back out the door, leaving a dripping trail behind him on the rug. "I'll be at the cottage; when you've calmed down please let me explain. I swear it isn't what it looked like. I don't want to lose you Tab."
As soon as the portrait closed, Albus let loose, managing to crack his own glasses with his brief lapse of control. "I'll kill him!"
Minerva crossed the room and laid a hand on his chest; she could feel his heart pounding beneath her fingertips. "I appreciate the thought Albus, but I would rather not have to visit you in prison. Azkaban is so dreary this time of year, and grey really isn't your color."
She reached up and plucked his spectacles off his bent nose. When she replaced them, the lens was whole again, and she thumped the crooked tip affectionately. It was odd, her attempts to sooth him when she should be a mess herself. It was just another layer to an incredibly complex woman.
She looked up into his eyes, suddenly uncertain. "He is your friend Albus. If you would rather go and.. I would understand," but Albus just shook his head, cutting her off.
"That man," he said, spitting out the last word, "is no friend of mine. Anyone who cannot see what a gem you are is a fool. He should count himself lucky to still be in one piece." Minerva smiled faintly and patted him on the arm. Leave it Albus to say just what she needed to hear without ever realizing it.
The fact he wasn't abandoning her eased the tension in her tightly wound mind. It was strange, yet oddly comforting, and, for a moment, utter calm reigned inside of her. He always seemed to have this affect on her.
She turned her back to him, staring back into the fire, rubbing her neck. She had always stored her tension in the base of her neck, and she knew she would never sleep by the boulder she felt forming there.
It was only when she raised her hand that he noticed the lack of a wedding band. He cast his eyes around, and caught the glint of metal in the faint firelight. Albus stared at the woman in front of him, fighting desperately not to reach out and soothe her. How easy it would be to run his hands along her shoulders, kneading out every knot he knew was forming. But it wasn't his place.
So, he simply watched, and he didn't like what he saw. Working with her for twelve years, Albus knew exactly was floating through her mind. "You aren't actually thinking of going to see that sewer rat, are you? After what he did!" His tone was incredulous.
"He is my sewer rat Albus. I love him, and if he says there is an explanation, I owe it to us both to hear him out. If he were tricked, coerced, I want to know by whom and why. If not, then I'll come back, and you have my full permission to be as creative as you wish."
She turned back to him, her eyes pleading for understanding, and he couldn't help himself. He was never able to deny her anything. "Alright," he conceded, knowing full well he had no real say. "Let me know how it goes, and if you need anything," he let his sentence trail off.
She understood his unspoken offer, even if not the feelings behind it. "You've already done more than I could ever ask Albus. Your friendship means a lot to me. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
"Well," he said, stepping forward and reaching out for her hand. He clasped it between his own and smiled, pulling her closer. "You could start by letting me win a chess match every once and awhile. My ego is beginning to bruise."
They stared at each other for a moment before both began to laugh. Minerva ended up back on the couch, holding her side for dear life, tears streaming down her cheeks. Neither were sure what the tears were for, but it didn't really matter. As their laughter died down, Albus pressed his handkerchief into her hands before standing. "It's getting late; I should let you rest. There's much for you to think about."
He almost made it to her door before a soft voice stopped him in his tracks. "Stay?" Her voice was quiet, still calm, but it also had a tinge of desperation around the edges. Turning around, Albus came back to her side, never taking his eyes from her. He pulled off his outer robes and hung them carefully over the back of his usual purple chair beside the fire. She rose and followed him. With a wave of his hand, the chess board appeared between them as well as their usual cups of hot chocolate and tea. The fire again roared to life, washing them both in its light and warmth. "I'll try not to batter you too badly," Minerva said, "but, no promises." And they were off.