A/N - so, I decided it was time Minerva got a little nudge - so this chapter contains one. Also, I might be taking slight liberties with Albus' backstory. Or not.
Part 6
Albus set aside the last of his marking just as the early autumn sun was setting. As he stretched and looked across his office the school grounds were bathed in glorious golds and peaches. He was tempted by the prospect by a walk – perhaps around the lake to take full advantage of the splendid evening – but he knew it wasn't going to be possible.
He was, somewhat reluctantly, dressed in a very fine set of robes. Even though the first week of term was barely over, Armando had insisted that this evening there would be a small celebratory party – to celebrate the Governor's confirmation that Albus would take over as Headmaster next June.
The formal announcement was some weeks off and he was glad of that. He was glad as well that this was an informal gathering – because it would also be the first time that either he or Minerva would be in the same place as those Governors who knew of their marriage. He'd been at the Governors' meeting of course, though not while they discussed his appointment. But the meeting itself had prevented the Governors who knew the truth from approaching him. He wasn't sure they would be so restrained tonight, although he could always hope.
There were other, more pressing matters on his mind. He had spent years carefully keeping track of those he viewed as potential threats to the hard won peace their world enjoyed. All the evidence he had so carefully gathered told him that something was stirring in the darkness – and he was worried about where that would lead. They had grown lazy and complacent – taking peace for granted in a way he had never thought possible in the years after the ravages of the last war.
"You look as though you are contemplating something particularly unpleasant," a soft voice said from just beside him; Minerva had demonstrated her skill in sneaking up on people once more – he was sure her pupils found it a lot more annoying than he did. "It couldn't be the prospect of this evening's gathering – could it?"
"Actually I was thinking about a gathering darkness – and the threat to our peace and stability." Minerva looked startled and then worried by his words. His immediate impulse was to be sorry that he had told her – but then, before he could leap into down playing his remark he recognised that while he didn't want to burden her, he did want to share this with her. He wanted to know what her reaction was, what she thought.
"Is this at all linked to your fishing expedition?" she asked, her eyes narrowed in concern.
"When I go fishing it generally means I am looking for dark wizards, although I confess sometimes I genuinely do go fishing."
"I don't find that at all surprising." She looked over at him, "you think something is happening, that someone is out there, like Grindelwald?"
"Perhaps not exactly like him – but yes, I think someone, or even several someone's are out there and I think they would seek to impose their will on our world – and remove those who would stand in their way."
"And I imagine that you would be one of the major obstacles?"
"I would certainly stand against them – I can only hope that I wouldn't be alone in doing so."
"I think you know that you wouldn't be, or you ought to know." The declaration of faith, however oblique was reassuring. "You don't have to, you must not, do this on your own Albus. By all means chose carefully who you trust – but, you need help to gather evidence – to make sure our world heeds the warning. Don't let's make the same mistake as last time and leave it until it's too late."
"And if there is no real evidence – just the suspicions of an eccentric old man?"
"You're not old!" She pointed out bluntly – forcing him to smile at the way she had completely failed to dispute his eccentricity. "If there is no evidence then I suppose we must watch and wait, which is what you're doing anyway?"
"I always watch – and I'm grateful for your support. Although if my own wife won't defend me from accusations of eccentricity then I don't know what will become of me."
"I suspect you'll survive." She frowned, "are you setting tests for me Albus Dumbledore? Trying to find out if you have my loyalty? If I can be trusted?" Her tone cut him and for the first time it occurred to him that in a way that was exactly what he had been doing. Not that he was going to admit it.
"I don't need to set tests for you Minerva – you caught me in a weak moment, I obviously needed to share my troubles with someone. I think I chose my confident wisely, since once again you've exercised your devastating talent for cutting straight to the heart of the issue – and for reminding me that I'm not omnipotent. I suspect that was what I needed."
"I didn't mean to be suspicious."
"Given what we have been talking about I don't think you should be sorry for being suspicious." He managed a small smile – but there was no disguising that he felt as though a great deal had happened between them in a very short time. Minerva's expression was equally troubled and he was sure that had only been partially caused by his revelations.
"It matters that you felt able to share this with me Albus." He nodded, wondering if she was going to say something else, but she let the moment pass. "Shouldn't we be going? I don't think it's the done thing for the guest of honour to be late for his own party."
"You're right, as usual." For the first time he looked at what she was wearing and his smile broadened. "Although I see you don't feel the occasion merited a change of clothes?" Her expression became mutinous and her tone was very clipped when she replied.
"These robes are good enough to teach in, I'm sure they are acceptable for an evening with my fellow teachers and the Governors."
"But it's a special occasion, an evening in my honour." He didn't really care what she wore, but teasing her was by far the best part of his day so far. Signing she conceded the point.
"Fine, give me ten minutes, I'll change…"
"That is one option, however if you were, for example, a Professor of Transfiguration you could just…" he waved his hand vaguely at her, not sure if he was risking her wrath as her practical teaching robes slid into something slightly less practical, in a far lighter shade of green.
"I could have done that myself," she hissed.
"I don't doubt it. Shall you change your hair, or will I?" The glare directed in his direction would have felled a lesser man but he simply smiled at her and watched over the top of his spectacles as she flicked her wand, changing her hairstyle from the normal severe bun into a far looser twist.
"I don't understand your fascination with changing my hair style."
"Don't you my dear?" He took her arm in his and steered her out of the study, "it's really very simple – your hair is quite beautiful and, although your everyday hairstyle is practical, when you're not teaching I like to see you wear it differently."
It wasn't very often Minerva was at a loss for words – but this was clearly one of those occasions. She blushed, looked away from him and seemed quite unable to form a coherent sentence. Secretly he was rather pleased that this was her response to compliments, it made him think he might like to compliment her more regularly.
She was starting to realise what the muggle poet Dante had been writing about when he described circles of hell. Minerva hadn't quite decided which particular circle she was in – nor for what crime she was being punished, but there was little doubt about her current location.
Albus was being no help at all. They had been separated as soon as they arrived at the party, she had been carried off to a quiet corner and was now being thoroughly cross-examined about her relationship with the Deputy Headmaster – by two of the few people who knew that she was his wife. For this she had no one to blame but herself, since she had been the one who had said it would be wrong to prevent the Governors in question from sharing the secret with their wives. Not that regretting the past was going to help her much now.
They made an incongruous couple of interrogators – the young, vapid Madam Vasavor, dressed in the latest fashion to a quite ridiculous degree and somehow still looking breath-taking and the older, elegant Madam Claybridge – whose sharp-eyed gaze seemed to miss very little. Between them Minerva was being thoroughly grilled. At least now she understood why Albus had insisted on such careful preparation. She looked across the room, trying to catch his eye – hoping desperately for rescue, but he was deep in conversation with Armando and Frederic Vasavor.
They had stopped asking her questions about the wedding, unfortunately instead they were now going through the history of her husband's past romantic liaisons – which was information she definitely didn't need to be privy too. She hadn't realised that Albus' life had been so public, so speculated upon. No wonder he had retreated to Hogwarts.
She knew about his marriage of course, although throughout their years of friendship he had seldom, if ever, referred to it. He'd been a widower for a long time but she'd always assumed he'd had relationships in the intervening period, even though she was relatively certain there had been no one in recent years. But, there was no need for her to hear the details about his past – or even worse to hear speculation about what the details might be.
"And your point is…?" She said sharply, interrupting Madam Claybridge as she explained that no one really knew what had gone on between the hero who had defeated Grindelwald and the beautiful widow of the French resistance leader – but everyone had agreed they had been very close.
"That you aren't anything like any of the others." Well, she'd asked for that. She looked across the room again, this time finding that Albus was watching her, his eyes filled with concern.
"In what way?"
"Well, his other women," Minerva frowned and didn't let her finish.
"I'm sorry, I may not have been completely paying attention, but from what you've just been saying I gathered that between his wife's death and now Albus has been involved with four, possibly five women. You don't have to make it sound as though it's a harem." Madam Claybridge didn't look remotely bothered by her interruption – in fact if anything her smile became somewhat smug, as though Minerva leaping to defend her husband was exactly what she had been hoping for.
"Well, no matter the exact number, you are more than capable of looking after yourself, as you have just so aptly proved. The other women were all somewhat fragile." For a moment Minerva had no response – but fortunately she didn't need to find one.
"But, I suppose she is young. At least in comparison to him." Madam Vasavor wasn't used to not being the centre of attention for this long. She wrinkled her beautiful nose delicately – as though regretting applying the term 'young' to anyone so much older than she was. "Men can be rather vain,"
"Yes, they can." Minerva made sure voice was a drawl of not so subtle innuendo and a beat after she had spoken flicked her gaze towards Frederic Vasavor, making it abundantly clear which of them she was implying was the trophy wife. The exit in response was a well-practised flounce, leaving Minerva feeling almost sorry for her husband. Almost. She glanced at her remaining companion – who was looking even more amused.
"You definitely aren't fragile." Madam Claybridge murmured, "that was so clear an insult even she understood." She looked over towards Albus, her expression softening, "I've known him for a long time, despite his vaunted intelligence he does have a tendency towards the chivalrous. He likes to rescue people – women especially. I'm amazed he's had the sense to marry someone like you, even under the current circumstances. He needs an equal – or, failing that, someone who doesn't need his protection. You'll do."
Before Minerva could respond she found herself on her own. She remained in her corner as conversation buzzed around her, occasional words or phrases leaping out more clearly. When she had first arrived at the party all she had wanted was some peace and quiet to think about what she had been told about a dark wizard on the rise, about Albus' role in discovering this.
Now that she had a few moments to herself all she could think about was Madam Claybridge's parting comment. She had no idea if any of it had been true. And, in an odd sort way it had been a compliment, she knew she could look after herself, she'd been doing so for a very long time.
But, the knowledge that she wasn't the sort of woman Albus traditionally became involved with had affected her in an entirely unexpected way. She wasn't jealous exactly, but she was unsettled. It shouldn't matter to her in the slightest, she shouldn't care. But she did.
TBC