A/N - ending is, apparently, difficult.

Part 12

The Seer of Islay was beginning to think he had done something to offend the Gods. A transgression of some kind, he reasoned, could be the only explanation for his having to face Minerva McGonagall for the third time in less than a year.

At least this time she wasn't pointing a wand at him and threatening to transfigure him into something small and furry. Having faced her wrath he was immeasurably grateful that she appeared scarcely aware of his presence. Instead her attention was fixed firmly on the wizard at her side. This time he was pleased to see that she stood before him in robes of deepest green, which shimmered with the early morning sunlight. Added to the loose curls of hair that tumbled around her face and the softness of her smile she looked every inch a woman about to be married. Again.

Beside her Albus Dumbledore looked resolute, but nervous. He had yet to let go of her hand and seemed to have no intention of doing so. Their body language was completely different from that first morning and the glow around them was not completely due to the shards of sunlight.

Their request had been unusual, but one he was able to grant. And, after all, he could tell that he was really marrying them this time – even though he didn't understand why that hadn't been the case the first time around. He really didn't need to know all the details, but his life was so quiet and still, sometimes he couldn't help but become interested in the affairs of others. He suspected that this relationship would be one he would be watching for a long time.

This time, when their wands touched the bright light engulfed them once more. It was a rare enough phenomenon for him to be shocked at experiencing it twice –although they seemed to have been expecting it. When the light cleared they were locked together in a passionate embrace and before he had a chance to congratulate them, the pop of their apparition carried them away to Merlin knew where. Which at least spared him from having to explain what he had seen of their future.

When they kissed it was difficult to think about anything else. Dimly Minerva recognised that the air around them felt different - clearly they were no longer on Islay. The sound of bird song and the soft spring breeze led her to conclude that in all likelihood Albus had apparated them back to the environs of Hogwarts. If she had been able to spare the attention she would undoubtedly have been grateful that his power and control was such that he could kiss her and apparate at the same time.

The cautious part of her recognised that they were probably within sight of the school, which meant that despite the early hour there was a possibility that they would be seen. But Albus threaded his hand into her hair, caressing her scalp with long, sensitive fingers and this, combined with the stroke of his tongue against hers, made her caution melt away.

Eventually they parted, breathless, but still touching, their hands clasped together, smiling at each other. Only now did she realise how anxious Albus had been looking – as though he had been half-afraid that she would change her mind. She couldn't blame him, she had put him through so much.

Her memory drifted back to the night when she had finally made her decision. "You are my peace," they had said to each other in the dwindling firelight. But it was not, after all, the final declaration. The words that needed to be said had lingered between them, but they had to be hers and she had known that she owed him no less than the truth.

"I could live like this," she had said taking his hand in hers, "with our friendship as it is now, close but not too close. I could be content with that life, with never having to face my fears. But, I think it would make you very unhappy – and I have already learnt that I can not bear to see you sad. I don't think I could stand to be the cause of your unhappiness."

"You shouldn't decide because of someone else."

"I can't think of a better reason, when you love the someone else in question." And she had drawn him to her and kissed him, letting the passion build slowly and gradually between them. "I love you," she had whispered sometime later, surprised at how sure and certain she'd sounded and how the voice she had spoken with had echoed her feelings.

She was certain. She believed, not in herself, but in the man she had given her heart to. She believed in how determined he had been not to rescue her, she believed that his struggle to overcome his chivalrous nature meant that he understood her own fears. When she thought of the relationship they could have she did not expect it to be simple or uncomplicated – but she knew that this love would not diminish either of them.

And so they had stayed up half the night, kissing, holding each other and hardly speaking. She had felt his relief at her decision and tried not to feel guilty that she had made him wait so long, put him through so much.

Somewhere in those hours, though she was not quite sure when, this plan had been born. She was determined that he would not doubt her, which was why early the following Saturday morning they had repeated their wedding ceremony. He had needed the reassurance, perhaps needed it still – and she was more than happy to give it.

But it was not that simple of course. Albus smiled ruefully and stepped back from her, she squeezed his hand and returned the smile. Though it was a Saturday, they both had duties to fulfil – actually, with Albus now acting as Headmaster and Minerva covering some of his lessons as well as her own and taking over from him as Head of Gryffindor, they were both extremely busy. There would be little time to celebrate their marriage.

"I wish we could spend the day together," he said, "I wish we had time for a honeymoon, but I fear that until the summer we will have little time for ourselves."

"I understand," and of course she did. He gazed at her in silence for a moment and she shivered at his intensity.

"Still, I believe we may be able to find some time alone later," he said, his voice husky. "We could have a private dinner, I am sure there are a number of important matters we need to discuss."

"I'd like that." He touched her cheek with his hand and lifted her hand to his lips. The moment he touched her skin with his lips it was all she could do not to kiss him again. They hadn't made a conscious decision not to consummate their relationship until they had been through the marriage ceremony again – but somehow that was what had happened. The week had been long and tiring – and they both had tasks to complete that day. But she looked into his eyes and all she could think about was tonight.

Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily as he returned to his study, his footsteps echoing hollowly as he crossed the room. It was dark and slightly cold, as though it had been empty for most of the evening – which it probably had. The house elves had tidied away the dinner they had not touched and the candles he had lit had long since burned out. He was disappointed - even though he had been gone for hours he'd been holding onto a small hope that she would wait up for him. Yet, after the day they had both had he could not blame her for retreating to her own rooms for some sleep.

The sunrise on Islay and the renewal of their marriage vows felt a long time ago already. She had looked so beautiful and so absolutely determined. When he looked into her eyes he knew that she meant what she said - even if he still struggled to believe it. He knew better than to doubt Minerva, he smiled at the thought of even trying.

As it had turned out that had been the easiest part of the day. He had spent most of the rest of it trying to get to grips with the vast amount of paperwork that had accumulated since Armando's death. He was still, uneasy, about using the Headmaster's study – but the papers he had needed were there, so he had made himself overcome the reluctance. Although he was still not ready to occupy the rooms that went with the study.

By early evening he had dispatched much of the paperwork and his concentration was deserting him. The only pleasant part of the day had been giving instructions to the house elves about their evening meal. He had been determined that it would be special.

He had known that Minerva would not be free to join him until the rest of the school sat down for their evening meal. Between supervising a visit to Hogsmeade, coaching some seventh year students worried about their NEWTS and overseeing a detention - her schedule was as busy as his.

He had been thinking about changing his robes when she'd contacted him. And, though his heart had lifted when her head appeared in the fire, he could have cursed the students of his own House for their appalling timing.

A practical joke gone seriously awry, causing damage and even some injuries. It was apparent to both of them that the Head of Gryffindor would be detained for some time in repairing the common room, making sure the injured received treatment and meting out punishment. He had sighed, said he hoped the offenders were suitably contrite and offered to come and lend a hand with the clear up. She had promised that she could manage, which had left him to concern himself with asking the house elves to keep their meal warm for them.

At that point their night had only been running a little behind schedule. But once things had started going wrong they hadn't stopped. By the time Minerva reached his rooms having dealt with the antics of her students, he had been putting on his cloak.

"The Minister wants to discuss my report on events in Romania – she insists that it must be tonight, I have put her off several times already and I can hardly tell her how I had planned to spend this evening. I'm sorry." She had leant against the door, watching him as he finished putting on his cloak. Her expression had been difficult to read and at first he had thought she was angry. But instead, to his surprise, she had started to laugh.

"It must be difficult, when the universe refuses to heed the wishes of the great Albus Dumbledore,"

"It is inconvenient," he had agreed, delighted that she was teasing him. He had laughed as well, resting his head against hers, "I just want to spend the evening with you. Why can't the Universe co-operate?"

"Don't sulk." She had brushed her thumb over his bottom lip and he'd been amazed by how much her simple touch had affected him. "The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back."

But she'd been wrong. The Ministry had taken the information he had returned from Romania with extremely seriously. At any other time he would have been relieved that they weren't simply dismissing the news of a growing threat. However, because they were taking it so seriously he had found himself attending a near endless meeting about strategy – it was the early hours of the morning before he got away.

It was fair to say the day had not gone as he had hoped. He wished he could laugh about it, but it meant too much to him. He had wanted everything to be perfect, for Minerva to feel loved and cherished and for their first night together to be filled with joy and passion. It was what she deserved and it was frustrating that events had conspired against them. He knew he was being childish, sulking even. But it was difficult to shake the mood off. He was tempted to stamp his foot and shake his fist at the heavens, but he was too tired to make the effort.

Instead he made his way across the room, hoping that a few hours of sleep would cure him of his bad mood. He was too busy wallowing in disappointment to notice the soft light that crept beneath the bedroom door. Which meant that the sight that greeted him when he opened the door came as a complete surprise – and it took his breath away.

Minerva was curled up in his bed wearing what looked like burgundy pyjamas. Her hair was falling around her shoulders, her glasses were perched on the end of her nose and open in front of her was a large book – which looked a lot like Hogwarts – A History. He had never seen her look more beautiful.

"I can't believe you're here," he breathed.

"Where else would I be? These rooms do belong to the Head of Gryffindor." He perched on the edge of the bed, slightly afraid to cross the final distance to her.

"So I'm in the wrong place?"

"No," she closed the book and set it on the bedside table, taking her glasses off and lying them on top of it, "actually you're in exactly the right place. Although, I can't help thinking you'd be more comfortable in bed."

She reached out to him, sliding into his arms and when he started to speak she pressed her hand to his mouth effectively silencing him.

Their eyes met and the irritation of the day simply faded away. They were here, together, what else mattered? And then she brushed her lips to his ear and whispered, "come to bed."

It was an invitation he had no intention of refusing.

The End (except for a very short epilogue)