I didn't mean for it to take me so long to finish - but apparently I have to be in a certain frame of mind to write this story. I'd like to thank my sister and brother in law for helping me to get there!
Also, there is a line that I stole from HBP - it seemed appropriate.
Night 4
Normally Minerva McGonagall was scathing in her criticism of people who neglected their work, who allowed themselves to be distracted by other matters. But, she had to confess, just at the moment the idea of marking 2nd year transfiguration essays didn't hold much appeal. Which explained why they were lying in an unruly pile on her desk.
Her study windows afforded her an excellent view of the Quidditch pitch – but as she gazed out of them for once she wasn't reflecting on the fortunes of her House team, her thoughts were far darker.
"Minerva," it was rare that someone was able to creep up on her. She had sharp senses which had served her well during the war, during two wars in fact. Reconnaissance was so much easier when you were small, fleet of foot and could move around without attracting too much notice.
But her senses had failed her on this occasion and, as she turned to face Albus she realised that he had been standing in the doorway, watching her, for quite a while. He didn't speak at first, instead his gaze travelled across the room, coming to rest at last on the teacups set out on the table before the fire. Still he did not comment, although she didn't imagine he needed her to tell him who her visitor had been.
"I'm sorry I missed Remus," he said, his tone deceptively mild. "How is he?"
She spent a moment deciding how to answer that, not sure she had words to describe the shattered man she had spent the last few hours with. Despite this she knew she wanted to talk to Albus, share some of the pain and the distress with someone who understood, even if doing so would not particularly ease her burden.
"He's going away – out of the country, away from everyone who knows him. I managed to persuade him to contact me from time to time, let me know how he is."
"Do you think he will, or was it something he said just to reassure you?"
"I think he'll try," she almost wished that he was right, that he had just been trying to placate her. But Remus clearly did not have the energy to make promises he had no intention of keeping just so she would feel better. "I'm worried about him, where he'll go, what he'll do."
"We must allow him to find his own way – he has great ability."
"I don't doubt that – I'm just not sure he has the motivation. He's lost everyone Albus, I don't know what there is to prevent him from just crawling away to die."
"You taught him better than that." Her laughter in response to this was too harsh, too bitter and far too revealing. She saw his face change and he took hurried steps towards her, reaching her side just as she said,
"Under the circumstances you'll forgive me if I have some doubt about the impact of my teaching." He didn't answer, which was almost as disconcerting as what he did instead, drawing her into his arms, and holding her. She wanted to capitulate, to sink into his embrace, let his touch sooth her. But she resisted. Her need was too great; the conversation with Remus had used the last of her reserves of strength and left her feeling hollow. She didn't want to risk needing anyone this much – not even him.
Albus showed no signs of withdrawing, he was just continuing to hold her, patiently offering warmth and a sense of security she had scarcely been aware of lacking.
At last, he murmured a complicated privacy spell and finally, assured that they would not be seen or overheard, she allowed herself to relax.
Carefully she curled her fingers into the front of his robe as her head came to rest on his chest. This was the way she understood them – in private, behind closed doors.
She had known there would be no escape from this day – but still she hadn't wanted to face it. Her thoughts had been dwelling on the past for hours, particularly on a conversation that had taken place years ago – after the Sorting Hat had placed both the first werewolf to attend Hogwarts and the youngest scion of the noble House of Black, into Gryffindor.
There had been something ironic about the fact that having spent all summer making plans to accommodate Remus, the moment the Sorting was over everything had become about Sirius. His parents had wasted no time at all in letting the school know how unhappy they were with the situation.
"Do you remember after their Sorting?" She asked quietly and, if he wondered what path her thoughts had taken in order to arrive at that particular destination he did not show it.
"I remember our conversation very well. I still believe the Hat chose wisely; that you were the best possible person to guide Sirius, to help him chose a different path."
She remembered that she'd had serious doubts about his reasoning – but actually there had been method in what she was strongly tempted to call his madness. Even as a first year Sirius had been egotistical and headstrong. He had all of the arrogance of his family, just with a different set of standards about whom he felt he was superior to. But she had been raised in very similar circumstances and she could summon at will the icy, condescending tone he had undoubtedly become familiar with throughout his childhood.
Never before had she considered that being a member of an old, pure-blooded family would become part of her teaching strategy. She wondered if Albus had ever thought about how much she hated having to use the life she had abandoned in that way. Or, if in some obscure part of his mind he had determined that she might feel better if she could see some use for the upbringing she had loathed.
Did any of it matter anymore since they had both been wrong about Sirius? There was precious little comfort to be gained from the knowledge that unlike James, Lily and poor Peter they had both lived to be aware of their mistake.
"I'm sorry that I failed you." She pushed herself away from him, not wanting to see his expression in response to her words. She knelt before the fire, using the poker savagely until gentle hands removed it from her grasp and she knew Albus had followed her. He held her chin in his hand, gazing into her eyes as he spoke the words.
"You didn't fail me, you never have. We were all wrong about him Minerva, none of us believed he could be guilty of a betrayal of that magnitude." He let go of her while she struggled to find a response, the intensity of the moment gone so rapidly she almost thought she'd imagined it.
He settled in a chair beside her, but she couldn't bring herself to move. The flames were far safer – especially since she knew that the conversation they had begun was far from over.
"I've been at the Ministry all afternoon. The Minister is determined that Sirius be sent to Azkaban – for life. He thinks that he is too dangerous and unstable for a trial."
"And I suppose he can just arrange that?"
"He can. I won't pretend I'm not disturbed by the prospect – but he has also given his word that it will be the last time it happens. In the morning he will announce that Crouch is being transferred to another department. The remaining Death Eaters in custody will be tried – but without the hysteria and accusations, their trials will be conducted according to the rules of evidence."
So, that was the arrangement that he and the Minister of Magic had come to. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but could she honestly say that in his place she would have done differently?
"Then it's over, you've stopped it."
"Only by agreeing to his plans for Sirius – was I wrong Minerva?" She turned her head to look at him; did he really want her to answer that? For a long moment there was silence as she considered what he had done – and why.
Though she had been dreading it, it was hard to reconcile herself to the idea that Sirius wouldn't be tried for his actions – that there would be no public reckoning. On the other hand, in a society still fragile in the aftermath of war, the damage and frenzy his trial could cause was incalculable. She knew that Albus wanted to believe he had acted for the greater good – and perhaps that had been his motivation, but there had been sacrifices along the way – and it would not help Albus if she were to pretend otherwise.
"Was there anything you could have done to change the Minister's mind?" she asked at last.
"I could have gone to the Daily Prophet, or perhaps used the Imperius curse." Both of these were clearly not options.
"Then, what you did was to use a decision that had already been made, to end something that we both know was out of control."
"You're letting me off the hook."
"No, I'm merely reminding you of the context. Albus, you refused the position of Minister of Magic, on several occasions. I've no doubt that you had your reasons, and because I know you, I'm sure the reasons were valid. But, because of that choice, this decision was not yours to make. You did what you could, you've hardly been sitting idly by, twiddling your thumbs."
"No, never that." She was startled when he knelt beside her and drew her into his embrace. Almost without realising it she felt her body curve into his – it was so easy already, so familiar.
"Will you be all right?" He asked softly.
"I have to be, there are examinations to prepare for." She was, at heart hideously practical – but he knew her well enough to make a soft sound of protest at her words, "I won't forget this, I can't forget it – but I want to take refuge in my work for a little while."
"The war isn't over." His words were breathed softly against her skin, almost as though he was afraid to speak them aloud. She started to ask him what he meant, but his hands moving across her body effectively robbed her of speech. Her head fell back and the same lips that had given his prophetic warning were now placing heated kisses across her neck and she knew there were, after all, things other than work to take refuge in.
His breath was warm on her neck, his arm draped over her hip, they were both gestures which should have given comfort and reassurance – but still she could not sleep.
Albus slept heavily, like a man who had not rested easily for a while and who did not know when the opportunity would avail itself again. She was glad that she could give him that, but she knew that she would have to wake him – sooner or later. The Headmaster could not spend the night in her bed without the risk of someone finding out where he was and drawing from that information an entirely accurate conclusion about what was going on.
She slipped easily from his grasp, crossing the darkened room to pull a robe around her before retreating to a chair by the fire in her study. Her ghosts were restless tonight. James, Lilly – even Peter Pettigrew, their bones danced in her mind. Too many deaths, there had been too many deaths. The ghosts of the walking wounded haunted her too – Remus, the Longbottoms, students who would never grow up with their families around them. And then there were the tormentors, the guilty; Crouch, the Lestranges – Sirius.
She didn't doubt that Albus, with his formidable will and just a little manoeuvring, had prevented them from falling into the abyss. But at what cost – and for how long? The words he had whispered to her earlier held the heavy ring of truth – how long did they have before it started all over again?
"Minerva?" she followed the sound of his voice and found he was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, watching her – waiting. He'd pulled on his outer robe and she couldn't help but smile at how sleepy and crumpled he looked.
"What will become of us, Albus?" His eyes widened at her question, because she was asking about the two of them as much as she was asking about the fate of their world and all those they cared about.
"I can't answer that, the future takes care of itself, you know that." She didn't believe him and her expression must have made her scepticism very clear because he sighed, heavily. "He will return, there will be war and death – despite our best efforts." As soon as he spoke she wondered if she had been wise to draw the words from him, they were more real now, than when they had been breathed against her skin.
"And this?" She gestured between the two of them.
"I don't know." Had she heard him sound quite so uncertain about anything before? "The Governors would be most displeased if they were to find out, added to that the age difference is, considerable. I'm old and dangerous Minerva, not a promising combination in a lover."
There was nothing in what he had said that she could deny – and added to that he could be oblique and secretive, which she hated. This was scarcely a romance that had 'happy ever after' written all over it. Whatever lay between them she knew only that it was as complex as it was fragile. On that first night she had given, thinking only of his needs – and he had taken from her. But he had done so with care, taking only the comfort she was able to give. Perhaps he did not even realise that on subsequent nights she had taken comfort from him – tonight was proof enough of that.
In a messy, dangerous world it scarcely seemed possible that two wary, battered individuals could hold onto something that neither of them seemed willing or able to categorise. And yet, would it be harder to let it go?
She shivered, despite the warmth from the fire, and pulled her robe tighter around her. This was not the right time to remember how warm her bed was – especially with another person sharing it.
"I'm sure, given your vast knowledge of magic, you have a spell in your repertoire that would disguise your presence here - if you are worried about the Governors finding out."
"There is a spell," he tilted his head to one side, looking at her speculatively. "No one can find out Minerva, ever. It doesn't seem much to offer you." She thought about that, set it against all the things he had whispered to her over the nights they had spent together.
Albus was a man who wanted, without ever believing that what he wanted could be his. Darkness and danger surrounded him – for all that he was the great defender of the light. To draw closer to him was to risk being tarnished, but she knew it was foolish to believe that she lived in a world of moral absolutes, that there was good and evil – and nothing in between. Albus' struggles these last weeks were a salient reminder how easily people could concede all they had fought for. Surely there was no more complicated term than, 'for the greater good'.
He was waiting still, his expression guarded as he looked at her. He had told her very little about what he wanted; confined himself to issuing his warnings, leaving the choice up to her. She didn't think she could allow that.
"Albus, I need little from you – your friendship is the thing I cherish the most and, though from time to time we may disagree, I hope never to lose it. Anything more is, complicated and I have to admit that if we were discussing the beginning of something I am not sure I would take the risk. But this is not the beginning."
Still he was silent, and she thought perhaps that in his silence lay the answer she was seeking. That their relationship would proceed thus far, but no further – and despite all defences she had surrounded herself with, she knew it would not be enough. But then he whispered,
"Never doubt how much I need you, Minerva."
She uncurled herself from the chair and crossed the room to his side, until they stood together, close but not quite touching.
"I won't, if you promise to remember that I need you as well." He dipped his head in acknowledgement and then took her hand lifting it to his lips. She had no doubt that their bargain was sealed.
She saw now that the darkness would never entirely leave them – it was part of who they were. They had been touched by Tom Riddle as surely as if he had branded his mark into their arms. And, it was for them to determine how they lived with that darkness – cowering in its shadows or trying to bend it to their will. The choice was easy to make, but she knew that from now on, its consequences would challenge them.
This was where they were now, and though she still believed that happy ever after was not in their future, she would take whatever lay inbetween.
The End
