AN: Happy Thanksgiving everybody! Here's the next chapter, and I just want to say thanks for all the great feedback I've gotten. Keep it coming everybody.
Before either man had a chance to respond, Minerva was across the room and by Albus' side. Without a second thought, she took his blood stained arm in her smaller hands, running them gently over the skin, looking for injury. To his horror, Albus hadn't cast a cleansing charm before they left the cottage. He didn't even want to begin to image just what they were saying in the village.
He caught her a hold of her as she traced his palm, causing her to look up for the first time. "I'm fine Minerva; it's not my blood."
Her eyes followed his and grew as she noticed Michael's condition for the first time. Pulling both farther into the room, Minerva pulled out her wand and was about to heal his nose when Albus reluctantly stopped her. "It would be better to wait for a nurse Minerva. It's out of alignment. If you heal it now, it can't be reset. Not that he wouldn't deserve it," Albus added, more to himself, but she caught it.
"Would one of you tell me what is going on? What happened Michael?" Michael cast a nervous glance between his wife and Albus, wincing as the wand was jabbed into his back.
Taking a step away, Michael did his best to look nervous, not a difficult task. "It's simply a misunderstand Tabby. Really, there's nothing to worry about."
Even as Minerva simply raised an eyebrow and looked poignantly at the slow trickle of blood again making its way down her face, Albus was trying not to explode. "Tell her Michael," he ground out, taking a step forward.
Michael turned and looked at him, false concern lacing his features. "We both know you wouldn't want that Albus. Let's just forget it my friend," he said in a false whisper, Minerva overhearing every word, just as she was meant to.
"Albus? What don't you want me to hear?" She wheeled on him, a sense of dread settling over him.
Albus closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath. He never saw the grin flash across Michael's face. Albus was absolutely sure of one thing. When all was said and done, no matter what Minerva chose, Michael was going to spend the next twenty years croaking in his aquarium. "Tell her Michael. Either you do, or I will."
With an exaggerated sigh, and a sympathetic look plastered to his face, Michael shook his head sadly. He regretted it instantly when a headache threatened to suddenly engulf him. "All right Albus. I was going to forget everything for the sake of friendship, but if you're determined, I'll tell Minerva everything."
Michael took Minerva, who by now was more confused than she could ever remember, by the hands and sat her on the couch before sitting beside her. "I was back at our cottage, preparing for bed, when there was a knock on our door. I answered it and was pleasantly surprised to find Albus on the other side. Naturally, I invited him inside. I followed him into the sitting room, and the next thing I know, he punched me."
Michael looked up to see Albus' chest rising and falling in great heaves, his fists clenched onto the mantle above her fireplace. "He started ranting about how I treated you, how I couldn't be enough for you, that I wasn't what you needed. And then," Michael paused for dramatic effect, "he asked how I managed to weasel myself out of it. Obviously Min, I had no idea what he was talking about, and my nose hurt so badly I wasn't really thinking straight. He asked how I convinced you to forget about his woman."
Minerva gasped, her eyes now resembling owls. Michael rubbed her hands comfortingly. "I couldn't believe my ears. My best friend sent some harlot to my bed. I was so shocked, I couldn't think. He simply kept repeating I wasn't what you needed, and you would do best to forget me."
He turned away, making sure Minerva would be able to see his face. "How could you do it Albus?" he asked in a strained voice. "We were your friends. How could be betray us like this? What reason could you have to try and destroy our marriage?"
Albus was red in this face, his breaths labored, and he was on the verge of drawing his wand when Minerva turned her wide eyes on him.
Every ounce of color drained from his face, and the wind completely left his sails when he saw her. Her expression was agonized, a pain and betrayal ripping his still beating heart from his chest. She couldn't actually believe he would be capable of such an atrocity? It just couldn't be. But, every fiber of her being was telling him otherwise.
Slowly, the rage was beginning roll from her in waves, crashing against him, but it was the single tear he noticed prickling at the edge of her eye that numbed him. For one of the few times in his life, Albus was speechless. For all the logic and arguments swirling in his mind, Albus' tongue was nothing more than lead, heavy and useless. His hands slid from the mantle, leaving behind two scorch marks, flopping useless against his sides.
Minerva stood, walking toward the large window, gaining space from both men. Albus watched as her hand, which once again donned a simple golden band, came to finger the small broach he had given her as a wedding present.
She stared out at the blinking stars, seeking guidance. It was apparently not forthcoming because she sighed and leaned against the cool window panes. "Is it true?" Minerva asked, her voice steady, demanding.
The sea of auburn beard twitched as he worked his jaw a few times. He only found his voice as she turned to stare at him, taking his silence as an admission. "No!" he said emphatically. "I could never Minerva."
"Of course that's what he would say," Michael countered from his place on the couch, seeing the tide beginning to shift once again as her eyes softened. "You don't actually expect him to admit something this grievous do you? It would ruin him. He's lying Minerva; I swear."
For all his ranting, neither of them heard. They were each far too busy with their own conversation. Granted, words were never uttered, but every thought, every feeling was communicated with ease. The desperation and fear in Albus' gaze was met with hope and disappointment in hers.
Albus searched his mind frantically for a way, any way, to assure her of his innocence. Without it, even if she didn't hex him into oblivion, there would be no way to retain any semblance of her friendship, and she would be forever fooled by her husband. He would rather die.
The watery shadow of the moon along the floor gave Albus his inspiration. "I can prove it." He stepped forward, hoping she wouldn't suddenly decide against him. "I'll show you my memory. We can use my pensive. I will show you everything."
Michael began to panic, and jumped to his feet, putting a forceful hand on Minerva's shoulder. "Pensives can be deceptive," he reminded them. "Memories can be altered. How do you know if what you'll see is true?"
Albus looked at her over the edge of his glasses. "If you have so little faith in me, then view my memories directly."
Minerva stepped forward, letting Michael's hand slip away from her shoulder. She searched his face, comprehension of his meaning taking hold. "You would allow me.. you could pull me in as well?" she whispered, her voice guarded, unsure.
Albus nodded. "As long as the connection is made I could move us back and forth. My memories are yours for the taking. Always for you."
By now, Michael was sweating profusely. Legilimency was never his forte, and there would be no way to denounce the thoughts once she had seen them. Memories were only alterable once they were removed from the mind, and they all knew it.
He went to grab her arm, but he was too late. The words were spoken, and he missed his chance. Michael waited on baited breath as their faces changed, frowns and grief moving seamlessly from rage and disbelief.
All the while, the two sets of eyes never broke contact, not did Albus' hands from their resting place on her upper arms. Suddenly, the spell was broken, Albus' arms once again dropping to his side.
Before they had fully left her side, Minerva swung around. For the second time in as many hours, Michael found himself flat on the floor, clutching his nose. This time however, it wasn't in pain, but in lack of. She healed his nose. "Get out!"