"Who knows what, my dear?"
"Alan. He knows, Albus. Tonight as I was putting him to bed right out of the blue he asked me 'mum, is Albus my da?'"
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him the truth."
"You told him that I'm his father?" Albus asked, something akin to fear or horror sparking in his eyes.
"Well, that is the truth isn't it?" Minerva replied sarcastically. "Yes, of course that's what I told him."
The air around Albus suddenly seemed to spark with agitation. "You couldn't have discussed this with me first?"
Minerva responded to Albus' agitation with her own. "He caught me a little off guard," she responded, staring at the man in front of her with hard eyes. "Besides, how was I supposed to respond? Should I have told him that I would get back to him later with an answer? Should I have lied to him?"
"Of course not," he responded, finally entering her office and closing the door. It had occurred to him that this was not an argument they could afford to have heard. He moved past her toward her desk. "But I think it would have been best to have told him nothing at all."
"That just would have made him more sure. As this incident proves, he's a very smart, very perceptive boy—two traits you should be very familiar with since he gets them from you. Leaving him to his own devices is far more dangerous to his well-being than telling him the truth and giving him our guidance. Besides, it's been done. I can't undo it and it's not like I can use a memory charm on him."
"No," Albus mimicked thoughtfully, "you can't . . ."
"Neither can you," Minerva told him softly, still staring at him with hard green eyes. "I won't risk it. You and I both know what can happen when you place a memory charm on a child that young so don't even think it."
"Think of what might happen to him if we don't. I don't want to someday find the two of you struck down by Avada Kedavra."
"A memory charm is not the answer. That boy, your son, has a very bright future ahead of him. He's very clever. I won't risk you messing up and erasing all of that along with his knowledge of his paternity."
"Then what do you suggest we do, Minerva? Should we simply trust a three year old to never once slip up? You shouldn't have told him."
"I would have had to have told him eventually anyway."
"No, you wouldn't."
"Excuse me?" Minerva asked, her voice dangerously even. She was trying to control herself, Albus knew, but Minerva's temper was volatile. When she became angry she had a tendency to do so very quickly and obviously—no matter how much she controlled herself there was no way to miss it when she was angry. Right now she was most certainly very angry with him. That was all right. He was angry with her too. She'd been very stupid.
"I said that you did not have to tell him eventually. I see no reason that he ever needed to be told at all."
"He deserves to know the truth eventually. It wouldn't be fair to him to keep it a secret forever."
"On this particular subject you will forgive me if 'fairness' is not my priority."
"He would have figured it out eventually and he would have been angry at us for not telling him."
"Sometimes it's best not to tell children certain things for their own safety. He would have figured that out eventually and forgiven us."
"After how long?" Minerva asked angrily. "How much time do you care to lose to anger over us keeping a secret he deserved to know? Maybe I shouldn't have told him now. Maybe I should have come up with something else to tell him. I can't change that now, but the fact is that eventually whether or not he keeps this his secret will become his own business."
"His keeping this secret effects you too, Minerva. I don't like the idea that a potential misstep of his could result in your death either. What he does with this will eventually become his business as far as it pertains to his life, but what about where it pertains to yours?"
A sigh escaped Minerva's lips and her demeanor softened noticeably. Suddenly her eyes were less green and staring at him with a love often buried as deep as possible. "Albus, if it weren't for what this all means to Alan's life I would never have given you up. I'm willing to take a few risks with my own life, just not with his. That's why I keep this up. You have to know that."
He did know that. It was a hard thing to miss, really. Especially given the fact that she'd only forgiven him for his attitude regarding their one sexual encounter when she'd found out she was pregnant with Alan. He knew, but it was a fact he hated to remember.
"Minerva, let's not make this any harder," he told her, unable to stop himself from returning the look she gave him.
"Honestly, Albus, I'm not particularly inclined to make your life easy right now."
"I can't be certain of you, but I'd rather not be forced to dwell on the fact that we both feel these things for one another, are both aware that we feel these things and yet can do nothing about it. I doubt you do either."
"No, I don't," she admitted. "I do too much for my own good anyway."
This was a conversation they should not have. Albus could feel it. It was dangerously open. Allowing their feelings for one another to gain too much exposure simply meant they were more likely to act on those feelings. That was something they most certainly could not do.
"I'm sure that eventually we will both move on," he said, not quite looking at her. He had a hard time even thinking of getting over Minerva, especially when she was only just across the room, looking at him with such quiet longing. Intellectually, however, he knew that was what must happen eventually. It was neither healthy nor probable that they spend the rest of their lives wishing to be with one another.
He'd been planning on heading to a subject change with this. He needed to do that before he became to preoccupied with thoughts of the woman before him. Right now the focus should be upon their son and the problem his knowledge presented.
"We should focus on our son."
"Yes, of course," Minerva agreed, looking away from him and clearing her throat. "We need to figure out what to do now that he knows about you."
An uncomfortable silence filled Minerva's office as both fell into thought. The argument which had been cut short by what both considered to be the unfortunate reminder of their love for one another began to filter back into both minds. They were on different sides of this issue. That often seemed to be the case where things concerned their son. They both agreed on the big issue, of course, but where the line should be drawn on their caution seemed to be a constant point of contention between them.
Minerva hated the entire situation. She was sick of arguing with Albus and she was sick of fighting the constant battle within herself over where the line was between prudent caution and complete paranoid insanity. She wanted Alan to know and be close to his father. It was something that, as his mother, she felt that he needed. It was not hard to sympathize with Albus' fears, though, either. If they were too careless then people would figure out their secret. In fact it was a constant fear of Minerva's that her own desires to see Alan and Albus develop a close relationship would lead to the wrong person finding out about their little family. There had been many nights when she'd woken up in a cold sweat to dreams filled with the realization of her worst fears.
There were times when she thought that perhaps Albus was right. He and Alan should remain as distant as possible, but just as soon as she would think those things she would dismiss it. Albus was the lad's father. She could not help but feel that a complete severance of that tie was both wrong and unhealthy. The line lay somewhere in the middle. She just had to find it.
Perhaps that was why she and Albus argued so constantly. Maybe that was the only way to find that line.
She was still sick of arguing with him. She loved him. No one really wanted to argue with someone they loved.
They could both feel the tension in the room, the threat of their argument breaking out again. Neither of them wanted to go back to arguing. It was both unpleasant and unproductive.
"Whether or not we do anything else, we should talk to him," stated Minerva finally. "We need to impress on him the importance of keeping this a secret. If we don't do that then he may tell before we have the chance to think of anything else to do."
"I agree. There's not much we can do, at least not quickly, though I must admit I'm not entirely certain of his ability to keep this a secret. I'm certain he would never tell intentionally but . . . he is very young."
"He's very smart, too," Minerva pointed out. "I think that if we explain it well enough, he will be able to grasp the gravity of the situation. He did figure this out after all. I think that speaks well to his capabilities."
"I'm sure he will grasp the situation intellectually, but from what I have observed through my years as a teacher, bright children have a tendency to mature intellectually at a far greater rate than emotionally. It is that which I worry about."
"What else can we do?"
Albus shook his head. He did not like the idea that they would be, for all practical purposes, scaring their son into keeping a secret. Nor would Minerva, but he was certain that was not a fact she had thought of. She would never have suggested the idea if she had. The thought of doing something like that would make her sick. She might not where her heart on her sleeve but he knew that it held very strong sway over her. He would not mention this to her. There was no need to give her more things to worry about. He could worry about what they were doing here just fine on his own. The situation with his family was never far from his mind anyway.
"Perhaps there is some spell that will help us. I will certainly look into the possibility. Until then, however, it seems that talking with him is all we can do."