AN: I just wanted to say thanks again to everyone who's reviewed thus far. The comments have really helped with this story, and I just wanted to let you know how much I appericate it. Keep it up everybody.
The fire blazed hot and bright in the fireplace beside Albus' desk, but the light in his eyes was brighter. His office was an absolute disaster. Robes lay handing over the back of his chair, half empty plates of food littered various tables, and mounds of balled requests littered the floor. Mixed in were hundreds of pieces to his many contraptions. He had lost control over his emotions, and in a blinding flash, he had destroyed most of his office without a thought. Luckily, it rearranged itself once again almost immediately, but his trinkets would need special attention, something he was presently unable to give. That was something he couldn't offer at the moment.
The reason for the monumental destruction lay scattered across every available inch of his desk. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of replies sat stacked, waiting, depending upon subject. Albus' eyes blazed over the letters, his eyes only catching bits and pieces of each. 'Three women..dancing..only eighteen...same robes the next morning..'
Albus had been alive for a long time, and through the years he managed to make friends in almost every facet of the wizarding world, including the Ministry. It was lucky for him that many of them owed him a favor or two. It hadn't taken long to direct the pertinent questions to the appropriate people, and the response had been overwhelming.
Many had expressed surprise over his questions. Most had assumed he knew of his friends exploits. Reading through them, Albus began to understand the disapproving looks he received whenever he mentioned Minerva or Michael, how most people simply narrowed their eyes and changed the subject. They were under the impression he knew, and worse, approved of his friends dalliances. This fact only wounded him further.
How could he have been blind to his Michael's antics? How had he allowed the most precious of women to be taken in and then abandoned by such a man? The emptiness of her eyes when he had first arrived still haunted his waking moments.
With a frustrated yell, Albus pushed away from his desk. He ignored Fawkes' indignant squawk as the chair slammed loudly into the wall behind his desk, waking the sleeping phoenix with a jolt. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked aloud, his entire body shaking. His hands ran through his long hair in a nervous gesture. "I can't very well storm down and confront him. There's no telling what Michael may say, and it could only hurt Minerva. But, I can't just ignore it either." He began to pace beside the fire, the flames jumping with each pass he made.
Albus' thoughts drifted back over the years, remembering every instance Minerva had been left alone. Looking back, it was beginning to make sense. There had been too many conferences, too many research projects. Michael was a Potion's master, true, but not one of such caliber as to justify the excursions. Albus couldn't believe he had missed the signs. Michael was, if nothing, indiscriminate. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, even the occasional hag or nymph; nothing seemed to be able to sate his appetite for women. But, what scorched Albus' heart, was the three months Michael spent in Cambodia.
Unlike various other excursions Michael had made over the years, there was a potions symposium scheduled for the first week that Michael left. The trip had legitimate, or it would have been if he had bothered to attend. There was no research, no pressing business to keep him away from his wife. There was only a twenty year old girl named Ling and three unaccounted for months in the Cambodian jungle.
Albus' temper flared again as he remembered watching Minerva stare out the windows all those months, simply waiting for an owl that never came. Sleepless nights spent beside the fire talking, playing chess, or simply enjoying the other's company became a staple of their days. Albus still wasn't sure how he survived those months without going utterly insane. It had been the sweetest torture to be allowed to see her smile, hear her laugh, and not be able to touch her. Of course, a friendly hug or chaste kiss wasn't unheard of between them, but Albus longed for so much more. His dreams, while almost always of her, had intensified during those months. After she would retire for the evening, he could hardly wait for sleep to claim him so he could hold her in his arms, feel her tremble beneath him. The night became his sanctuary.
He could just image the couple now. It was still an early Sunday morning, and Albus seriously doubted they had awakened. They would spend their day together, before she would be forced to return to the school that evening. That special sway to her hips and impish grin would have returned, and Albus would spend the entire evening meal trying to forget why.
Albus shook his head to try and clear away these thoughts. He had a decision to make, and he didn't have long. Confronting the issue wasn't an issue; it had to be done. The question became how. As Albus saw it, there were two viable options. He could follow Minerva back to her chambers and explain the situation. He would present the facts and hope she would believe him.
The other, more appealing, option was to confront the problem. Michael would still remain at the cottage after Minerva left, and it would present a perfect opportunity. He dearly wanted to hear Michael's explanation for his actions. When as was done and said, Michael would pay for his stupidity. Either way, Minerva would be hurt. It was only a matter of when.
"Albus," a voice above him called gently, "she's just entered the castle."
Albus' head snapped up. He had run out of time, and still hadn't made his decision. It was made for him when his office door suddenly opened and Minerva all but ran inside. As soon as he saw her smile, Albus knew he couldn't tell her then. Her smile grew when she saw him and she threw her arms around his neck. His own snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. No words were spoken between the two. They had long outgrown them.
Minerva pulled away and her eyes grew concerned as she looked at him. Albus simply shook his head at her unasked question and wrapped her arm through his. They began walking out of the office, starting to discuss the latest Transfiguration article when Minerva finally noticed the bits littering Albus floor. She never heard the chatter that filled the office once they departed.
Minerva soon forgot the mess as dinner passed. The conversation was lively between the professor's, as always. Tales of weekend exploits passed between the friends. Filius had found a new process for self-levitation when he accidentally fell from his stool and tumbled twenty feet, only to hover a few inches from the ground. With refinements, he would be ready to present it to the Ministry for consideration.
To everyone's surpriseProfessor Travers, the surly Muggle Studies professor,had managed to not only refrain from removing house points for an entire weekend, but he arrived at the dinner table that evening with an uncharacteristic smile. The debate as to the reason led to questions of Minerva's own weekend. Her answering blush was enough to cause laughter from her friends and questioning looks from the students. No one noticed when Albus' laughter was somewhat stilted, or how his hand clenched painfully on the armrest of his chair.
It wasn't until Minerva turned back to him and noticed the untouched plate of food that she realized something was amiss. "Are you quite alright Albus?" she whispered, putting a comforting hand on his arm beneath the table.
He looked at her, forcing a smile on his face. "Quite alright my dear. I just don't seem to be very hungry tonight."
Minerva wasn't fooled and leaned into him so the other's couldn't overhear. "I know you're worried Albus, but everything is fine. Michael and I discussed it, and we're going to figure out who the imposter was. I..we were hoping you would help us."
Minerva's thumb was rubbing unconscious circles across the top of his hand. She had no idea just what she was doing to him. Albus' eyes, which had hardened when she began speaking, softened again, and he let a faint smile grace his lips. "You know I would help you with anything Minerva; you need only ask."
She beamed at him, squeezing his hand once again and encouraged him to eat. "We can't have you wasting away," she had teased.
He ate like an obedient child while his mind churned. All too soon, dinner was over, and the students began to file back toward the dormitories. Just as Minerva was preparing to leave, Albus grabbed her hand, holding her back. "I have something I need to attend to tonight Minerva. I shouldn't be too late; would you wait up for me? There will be things we need to discuss."
Minerva nodded, waiting for him to stand as well. "What's this about Albus?" she asked. While it wasn't unusual for him to have late night meetings, his behavior was beginning to worry her.
"Later," he promised before summoning his cloak.
Michael was wandering around the small cottage, a smirk on his lips, when it grew as someone knocked on his door. "Ah Laura," he said gleefully as he pulled on his dressing gown and walked toward the door.
His eyes bulged and the smile disappeared as he was forced backward into his own home. "We need to talk," came the displeased growl.