Albus had begun to dread mealtimes. Minerva had been avoiding him but for when their work demanded she see him, but at least then she spoke to him, however curtly. At meals, she would ignore him, and as often as she could discreetly allow, she would not show up for meals at all. It was almost, though not quite, preferable when she did not come. At any meal she was at, he felt as though he were sitting next to a wall of ice rather than a woman whom he, if not others, would normally identify as charming and warm. It was a painful difference.

He hoped that time would bring her around, perhaps not enough to make her forgive him, but at least enough for her to speak to him and thus allow him the chance to make up to her what had happened as best her could. He still clung to that hope. After all, at times hope was all a person had. When Grindelwald had attacked the castle all those years ago that had been the case, or at least it had seemed so, and hope had prevailed. Still a corner of his mind moaned at himthat he'd irrevocably ruined everything he and Minerva had ever shared with one another.

He fought that part of his mind. Minerva was sensible. He knew this and lover her for it. Her sensibility would prevail here and she would come around at least a little bit. It would simply take time for her sensibility to overcome her particularly strong, and not unjustified, emotions regarding this.

Watching her as she quickly and precisely cut her food and ate it, seemingly oblivious to his existence and if he was not mistaken faster than usual, how much time it would take her sensibility to take hold over her. He also had to wonder what it was that she was feeling right now, other than the obvious answer of something negative directed at him. Ignoring him the way she had seemed to have closed his window in her thoughts and emotions. Normally he read her, like most people, with relative ease but now he simply could not. Consciously or unconsciously, the result of her cold shoulder, she had disabled his ability to read her. It was very disturbing to him. It was like . . .

Like he didn't know her at all. Like he never had.

And he hated it.

/E/E/E/E/E/

Sometimes thinking about Albus made Minerva almost sick with anger. Literally almost sick. Other times he made her so confused that she was dizzy with it—again in a somewhat literal fashion. Yet other times she understood and accepted what he'd done—then she would go right back to hating him or being immensely confused by him. More often than not she hated him for it, but even so she could not seem to truly settle on how she felt about him and the entire affair. She'd been swinging back and forth, somewhat erratically at times, from one emotion to the next for weeks now.

Unable to decide how she felt about him, Minerva had been avoiding Albus ever since that morning that morning he'd told her they could not be lovers. She didn't want to be around him. It just confused her feelings more. Moreover, she was more often mad at him than any of the others, not always sick with anger, but pretty damn irate and when she encountered him in this state—which was how she normally encountered him, rarely did she meet him when feeling confused and never when understanding—she found she had a hard time being civil too him. Thoughts like he wasn't civil to you simply crossed her mind too often at those times for that. She did it, but it was hard. Harder than she would have imagined it to be, really. It was a good thing that she was not the sort of person who simply reacted without thought to everything she felt.

If she were, the way her opinions of Albus shifted so dramatically from one moment to the next, she wasn't certain what she would have done. Luckily, she was more controlled than that, even if the fact that the issue was as deep and emotional as it was eroded that to a degree.

At least it was easy enough to avoid Albus. The school year had started back up again she was plenty busy. Especially with her first years—James Potter and Sirius Black (who, amazingly enough, had not been made a Slytherin) were both quite charming and utterly unmanageable. She'd never seen two boys capable of more trouble, and even worse was the fact that the two were so clever. Hogwarts had been in session for five weeks and already they'd proved their "pranks" to be of the highest caliber. Even she thought that some of them were quite good. Just this week they'd managed to make quite a lot of trouble for Apollyon Pringle and his assistant by leaving a muddy mess in the entrance hall—a regenerating one at that, which was quite good for a couple of first years. Even Minerva, neat freak that she was, appreciated that one. Not that Potter or Black would ever hear about that. She had enough trouble trying to keep them in line as it was. She might well be forced to speak with Albus about their behavior before long.

She hated it when her thoughts returned to Albus. It was distracting and annoying. Whenever it happened she found that suddenly all she could focus on was how angry she was with him and it began making her sick again.

So she quickly got up from her desk and made her way hastily to her bathroom.

/E/E/E/E/E/

"Minerva?"

"Yes?" Minerva turned to face Amanda Chantry, whom she'd passed on the way back to her rooms.

"Where are you going? Dinner starts in ten minutes."

"I wasn't planning on attending today."

The middle-aged blonde witch sighed., then pinned Minerva with a worried stare. "You've been skipping meals far more often than usual lately. Are you feeling well?"

Minerva blinked rapidly in surprise. She hadn't thought anyone had noticed. She should have known better.

"I . . ."She didn't want to lie to Amanda. There was not a sweeter person in existence. She wasn't feeling entirely well right now, and she'd not been for a little while, but that was not why she was skipping dinner and she didn't really feel like explaining why she was. It would lead to a lot of awkward questions.

"I've been working," she told her truthfully.

A very dryly annoyed, but patient, look appeared on Amanda's face. "You should eat. There's time to work later."

"I'm really not hungry."

"You're not feeling well are you?"

Being asked directly, Minerva could not lie to Amanda. "Not right now, but I'll probably feel fine in a bit. It's . . . it's stress."

"And going to your office to work is going to help you?"

Minerva faked a small smile. "It won't last long. I'll be fine by later tonight. I may even come in to eat in the middle of dinner, hungry."

"You should come to dinner. Eating will help," Amanda told her, obviously not believing Minerva as she made light of the situation. Too bad, because she'd actually meant it. She probably would be feeling fine and hungry later.

"I'd rather—"

"You should take better care of yourself," Amanda told her pointedly and Minerva began wondering when she'd asked for a second mother. She rebuked herself sharply for the thought. It was not a bad thing to have people concerned for your well-being.

"I do take care of myself. It's not like I'm starving myself. Quite the opposite, I assure you."

"I meant that you shouldn't overwork yourself."

Why did everyone always think she was overworking herself? Was there not one person in the entire magical community who understood the concept of work being relaxing to a person?

"I don't."

Perhaps Amanda saw the annoyance in Minerva's eyes, perhaps not, but she did not push the subject any further. "You should still come and eat."

"Does this mean you will leave me alone about it later?"

"Sure."

"Fine then."