Author's Notes – Hiya! I am so sorry for posting Chapter 10 twice … I was actually using my friend's laptop (which can get tricky without a mouse) and I was in such a hurry to update, I messed up … big time =-( Thousand apologies!

I've posted a few more stories on the site – Solitary Grievances, Why not to fall in love with your boss' wife and Babysitting Blues and I'd love it if you guys can check those out as well…

Terribly sorry for the long update, thing is I've written this chapter in March, but I dunno, it didn't sound right … :( This chapter would probably, hands down, wins the award for the chapter re-written most number of times (by me). I wrote it no less than seventeen times (painful, very painful) and it still doesn't sound right … whaaa! But it's really important so, very regrettably, I can't even skip to the next chapter! Perhaps I'm bad at romance … ah, well … anyway, I ain't gonna write it no more. This is the final and (according to me) best version … so I posted this … enjoy! (hopefully)

Oh yeah, this chapter is largely from Minerva's POV, I would have liked to do Albus' POV but then, this is a continuation of the previous chapter.

Disclaimers – Yeah, I just happen to own all this 'cause, you see my first name's Joanne and middle name is Kathleen … but oh, damn, her last name's Rowling … and mine happens to be Rowland … puhleez … gimme a break!

Chapter 12 – Reminiscences

Minerva McGonagall irately ran the list of obtainable sweets at Honeydukes through her already disturbed mind.

'Chocolate Frog?' she pleaded with the stone gargoyle, unable to come up with a better guess.

The statute only smirked peevishly as Minerva wracked her brains for the possible name of a sweet that Albus had tasted last week and set as the new password to his office.

Wow, she thought cynically, I'm the Deputy Headmistress of the best wizarding school in all of Europe and possibly the world, was a former Auror, have written at least a dozen articles for Transfiguration Today, have blown up definitely more than a dozen Dark wizards, won some number of awards etc, etc, etc and I still can't figure out the name of a sweet that Dumbledore, my husband, would have set as the password. Just great.

The gargoyle was still leering at her unabashedly. When she had been younger, Minerva had supposed smirking was a gargoyle's primary occupation. This particular one had been leering at her ever since her first year at Hogwarts, when a very enraged and adamant young Minerva McGonagall had been sent up to the then Headmaster, Professor Dippet for having hexed a couple of Slytherins who had called her friend a Mudblood. No one had ever called anyone a Mudblood in her presence after that, possibly due to the fact that the Slytherins had to spend more than three weeks in the Hospital Wing after she been through with them.

'Sugar … um … quills?' she tried again desperately, squinting at the gargoyle. Her knowledge of sweets was clearly negligible, which was surprising, since Albus was such a great aficionado of all things saccharine. She wasn't even sure if "Sugar Quills" were a name of a sweet or not.

'Minerva?' an all-too-familiar voice called out presently.

The tall witch spun on her heels quizzically; only to find the lithe figure of Albus Dumbledore standing framed against the dark entrance of the passageway; his star-spangled midnight blue robes glittering eerily in the shadows. His blue eyes were alight with the usual twinkle and his pale lips were twitching slightly. For some reason, the sight of Minerva struggling to deduce the password seemed to amuse him.

'Albus, if you don't mind …' she said, rolling her eyes and pointing jerkily towards the perpetually-leering stone figurine, though the fact that she was relieved was rather evident. She had harboured no intention whatsoever, of spending the night trying to speculate the password to his office.

'My dear Minerva, such a simple password …' he remarked, making no effort to hide the amused expression on his face, while she attempted in vain to, as usual, glare at him. 'Choco-bar!' he declared happily, and much to Minerva's annoyance, the gargoyle sprang to life.

'Honestly, Albus,' she returned, feeling snubbed. 'If it were some sensible password like a complex spell or the like, it would be–'

' - much easier to remember for you and alas, also much easier to guess.' Albus completed for her. 'On the other hand, having a password like this-'

' - is something no one would even dream about.' Minerva finished wearily for him. Both knew what the other was going to say even before they said it, probably owing to the fact that they had this argument every time Albus changed the password without letting Minerva know beforehand.

Albus bowed in a mock gentleman-like fashion, his cerulean-blue eyes twinkling almost mischievously as he snaked his arm through Minerva's and alighted the continually moving stone staircase behind the gargoyle. The wall behind them closed with a dull "thud" and the pair moved upwards in tight circles until they reached a highly polished oak door with a golden griffin-shaped knocker.

The door opened of it's own accord and Minerva and Albus stepped into a semi-dark room with strange silver instruments standing on the tables and emitting smoky puffs, portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses sleeping in golden frames (or shamming sleep, Minerva thought, smirking) and a spectacular golden-red bird dozing on it's perch, it's head buried in it's magnificently vibrant plumage (which Albus conveniently called his "phoenix" and to which Minerva simply liked to refer to as a flashy, oversized peacock with serious genetic mutations).

The duo did not stop here; instead, they continued down the room to a somewhat overstuffed bookcase, where Albus tapped his wand against a fat, poorly-covered book, partially hidden amongst the various other titles wadding the groaning ledge and silently muttered an incantation. The bookshelf moved aside noiselessly to reveal a small opening; rather like the portrait hole behind the Fat Lady. Albus clambered into the hole and Minerva followed after him in her usual elegant fashion. Then, she turned back to seal the entrance, while Albus waved his wand randomly lighting a few candles here and there so as to illuminate the pitch-black room and flopped jadedly into a settee.

This new chamber was rather large and equally magnificent. It had a huge, stony fireplace in the front which Minerva lit with a swish of her wand before she sank resignedly into one of the comfy, low-backed, oriental-patterned sofas in front of the now-blazing hearth. The rear walls were mostly covered with enormous book-cases and the rest of the room was dotted with a writing table here and a delicate, antique ornament there and a few empty picture frames adorned the scarlet and golden walls. To the extreme right, was a narrow, unlit passageway leading to the inner rooms.

Minerva had been here on countless occasions before, but having spent her first day back in her own chambers, this would be her first time here after her long teaching break. And she could not say that Albus had done anything to improve its appearance or atmosphere in the eleven years of her absence.

'Same as you left it,' Albus commented, having noticed her deep interest in the manifestation of the room.

'I see,' she said somewhat stiffly, taking her eyes off the half-bare walls and turning to stare at him instead, head cocked to one side. 'You seem to be in rather high spirits.' she observed astutely.

Albus smiled enigmatically in reply, stroking his long, auburn beard to occupy his idle fingers.

'Come on,' Minerva said seriously. 'Spill the beans. Let the cat out of the bag.'

'Oh, I certainly will, Tabby,' Albus replied roguishly, getting back at her.

Minerva sighed for no apparent reason, and then as the painful recollection of that evening's events came back to her, she dropped her light-hearted approach at once. Albus did not fail to notice the sudden change in expression on her face, doubtlessly something to do with the events of the past day. He got up from the settee and sat down next to her.

'Minerva?' He put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly and nuzzled her neck gently.

'Hmm-mm.'

'Is anything …' Albus just let his sentence hang; knowing Minerva would understand what he meant to ask her anyway.

Minerva stifled a shaky sort of a smile. 'I'll let you know. Why don't you go on?' she suggested, not really wanting to talk about her unsettling thoughts and ruin his seemingly cheerful mood, the reason of which she was admittedly curious to know. She leaned back against his shoulders for comfort.

'Go on?' Albus wondered, sounding puzzled, wondering what on earth she was talking. Then, all of a sudden he realised what she had been referring to.

'Ah…'

'Hmm.'

Albus looked at her, troubled by her refusal to utter anything but "hmm". Minerva was still smiling shakily, like someone smiling even when there was nothing amusing about the situation.

'Albus, I'm fine,' she remarked dismissively, responding to his worried gaze; albeit this only convinced him of the opposite. 'Really … now tell me why you are in such high spirits.'

Minerva hadn't exactly seen Albus this happy since … some eleven years ago; in other words, quite a long time ago. So, she was obviously curious as to the reason of his sudden happiness. Today hadn't exactly brightened her up; but it seemed to have done more than that for her husband.

'Albus?'

'You seemed to have been lost in your thoughts,' he observed musingly, pulling her hair out of it's typically tight bun and stroking it tenderly, probably the only one in the world who could dare to do such a thing without bringing about a violent explosion of Minerva's legendary temper and getting himself hexed into oblivion.

'Yes, but do go on.'

Albus Dumbledore shifted into a slightly more comfortable position on the couch and assumed the look of a pompous storyteller about to recount an epic narrative. Minerva smiled despite herself and shot him a look that clearly said – "you're hopeless". Albus sighed in response and pulled her more closely in his embrace.

'Yes, well, see dear, … I've had the pleasure of meeting Miss Bridger last night.'

There was something about the way in which he stated it that Minerva should have observed, but she, being preoccupied with the evening's disturbing experiences, winced slightly at the name, then, merely smiled understandingly and said, 'At the Sorting?'.

'No, my dear,' he corrected her delicately, his long fingers still running through her hair, though she hardly felt it. 'Personally.'

She sat bolt upright, her eyes widening slightly as though he was trying to be humorous at a very wrong time. 'You went to the Gryffindor common room?' she asked him dubiously. 'Albus, why would you do such a thing?'

And only then, did she realise that he hadn't mentioned this when he had come down to her rooms last night. In fact, she had hardly given him a chance to say anything at all; she had been so guilty, anguished and distressed by what had happened earlier that day, or rather, what she had done earlier that day that she had just held him tight and fallen asleep in his arms without uttering a word. She knew he would have probably wanted to talk about what had happened, but she did not trust herself to speak without crying and any topic that involved their daughter only made her insides squirm with guilt.

All her stupid fault.

And falling asleep had seemed to be an easy solution out. At that time. Though, now she regretted it more than ever.

Indeed, Albus had wanted to talk last night. The whole Obliviating-their-own-daughter's-memory-for-the-sake-of-her-god-damned-safety had been tremendously hard on her, he knew; but she hadn't wanted to talk and he respected that. Perhaps, sometimes, unsettling thoughts were best left alone. Deep down inside, Albus too sometimes felt doubt lurking in his mind, as hard as he tried to push them away, thinking it was for her safety, they still stayed there, overwhelming him at some point of time or another. Albus was aware of how this would have affected Minerva all the more, after all, he had … he had never truly known her …

Even in the light of the dim candles and glowing embers, he noticed Minerva's face flush faintly to a soft, pastel pink. He knew she had not meant to hurt his feelings when she had said that; regret was written all over her face. She too, knew she hadn't. She had just said it without thinking.

Why would he do such a thing? The answer was so evident. Crystal clear. Albus had rarely ever seen Mia during her waking hours. He hadn't even had a single civilized conversation with her. His own daughter. The only time he had seen her was when she had been asleep or when she had been very, very young. Too young to understand and recollect anything she had seen. Too young to recollect the faces of the people around her.

Their daughter had known who her mother was. But she had never known her father.

'Oh, Albus, I'm so sorry,' she whispered guiltily, looking up at him, her eyes lined with tears, close to falling. 'But it didn't have to be that way…'

Of course, it didn't have to be that way. The whole thing had been Albus' ridiculous idea in the first place. It was he who suggested that Minerva should quit her job and stay home to look after Mia. He who had suggested that Minerva care for her alone. Minerva had protested vehemently against this. Why? Why shouldn't a child have the right to know who her father is? And now, who her parents are? The question still brought tears to her eyes.

Obviously, Albus had answered why. Grindelwald's campaign had only just been crushed. There were so many people who would do anything to avenge his downfall. So many who would want revenge on Dumbledore for what had happened, for what he had done to Grindelwald. If anyone found out … he dare not contemplate what would happen then. He just didn't want to give them a chance to hurt the two people he loved the most in the world.

And besides, as Albus put it, he did not want to deprive her of a normal childhood simply because her parents were powerful and influential in the wizarding world. Minerva disagreed however; in her opinion, no child could have a "normal" childhood if she didn't know who her real parents were.

Flashback.

Winds howled wildly, causing the curtains to flap harshly against the stony walls of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. The doors of the infirmary swung inwards and a tall, lean figure stepped through the open doors. Poppy Pomfrey craned her neck across the shoulders of the young Hufflepuff girl whose bleeding arm she had been healing and saw the svelte figure of Minerva McGonagall standing hesitantly near the door.

Poppy turned back to the shy, young girl, healed her arm quickly as she could and sent her back to her dormitory. As the doors swung shut behind her long braid of mousy brown hair, the Hospital wing was quite deserted with the exception of the two witches.

'Minerva?' Poppy called out, as Minerva walked towards her, slowly and tentatively. 'Are you … alright?'

Poppy Pomfrey had known Minerva since as long as she could remember; the two had been best friends since their days at Hogwarts and Poppy was one of the select few who knew the well-concealed truth about Minerva and Albus' relationship. And yet, in all those years of their intimacy, Poppy Pomfrey had never seen Minerva look so uncertain as she did now. Just the prospect of her laconic and orderly friend behaving strangely was worrying her.

Minerva looked up at Poppy through bloodshot and watery eye. Poppy noticed her sway dangerously and dragged her to the nearest bed, forcing her to sit down. Minerva sat obligingly, but uttered not a word.

'Minerva,' Poppy pointed out in an anxious voice, shaking her slightly for she seemed to be in a daze. 'Minerva?'

Minerva bit her lower lip apprehensively and looked up at Poppy; their eyes met and for a moment, the medi-witch glimpsed the trepidation, fear and misery etched in her deep, green eyes.

'I don't know, Poppy,' she said finally, tearing away from Poppy's scrutinizing albeit concerned gaze. 'It's…not…perhaps, maybe…'

'Oh, Minerva, get to the point!' she pleaded frantically, a hysteric edge to her voice. Minerva's behaviour was starting to scare her. 'What happened? Poppy glanced at Minerva, truly worried now, hoping Minerva would open up and tell her what was troubling her so much.

'I've thought about it, but it's not fair, not on both of them…' Tears flooded all of a sudden down her cold face.

'Thought what?' Poppy asked her, startled to see her weeping. Minerva rarely ever cried; this would only be the second time Poppy had seen her do so and it was alarming her. 'Min?'

'I simply can't happen, Poppy, you know, it must … it can't … what will Albus do if …I can't give up…' her voice broke as Poppy continued to stare at her rambling form, her mind spinning as she noticed that Minerva was talking about two people other that herself … was it possible?

'Min, listen –'

'Poppy, what's wrong with me? Well, maybe not …'

'But Minerva -'

'Don't tell me, Poppy … it can't be … it's not possible. Don't say it, Poppy … please…' More tears leaked down her face and Poppy could recollect just once when she

had seen Minerva as miserable as this.

'Minerva, listen to me,' Poppy said loudly, trying to bring her friend back to earth. She flicked her wand randomly a few times and determined that Minerva was undeniably, as she had rightly believed, pregnant.

'Minerva!' Poppy held her best friend's arm and helped her sit up straight. Her emerald green eyes were still glistening with tears, her hair was out of it's typically tight bun and was falling unceremoniously over her face and her glasses, slightly askew.

'Poppy, it's not true,' Minerva said in a ghost of a whisper, grabbing Poppy's arm and squeezing it uncomfortably tight. 'Tell me it's not true, Pops … please … I can't bear it … it just cannot…'

Poppy realized Minerva already knew what had happened and had only come to seek assurance of the opposite.

'It's true, Minerva,' she returned gently, trying to comfort her distressed friend but at the same time attempting to help her embrace the reality of the situation. 'It's as true as I am.'

'It can't, Poppy,' Minerva whispered hoarsely, looking thoroughly shocked. 'It's not that… why is it always me …'

'Minerva, maybe it's not as bad as you make it to be,' Poppy argued reasonably, stroking Minerva soothingly on the back.

'Not bad!' she shrieked. 'What about Albus?' Minerva cried, leaning heavily on Poppy's shoulder. 'I can't tell Albus, Poppy … he always said no child deserved such a dangerous life.. it's my fault ….'

'Minerva, don't be stupid!' Poppy replied firmly though she herself was not entirely convinced of it. Poppy knew how precarious it was for Minerva to be Dumbledore's wife; let alone mother of his child. But she also knew how it would tear Albus apart if she hid this from him. 'This is not your fault … it's not anyone's fault. And you're going to tell Albus whatever there is to tell, Minerva or you'll regret it.' Softening her tone, she continued, 'He loves you to bits, Minerva … give him a chance and he'll love your child too.'

'Poppy, please… you don't understand … he knew it was too dangerous … We knew it was too dangerous … we simply can't drag a child into this mess,' Minerva begged miserably but Poppy was adamant.

'Listen to me, Min,' Poppy cajoled her, slowly patting her back and wiping away her best friend's tears. 'Just give him a chance … you know he loves you.'

'But, Poppy,' a frantic and disconcerted Minerva wailed. 'The child! What about the child, Poppy … if anyone finds out … it's perilous enough being his wife, Poppy but what about my baby?'

Poppy was sure, at that moment, by the way Minerva was talking that she would not even dream of aborting the baby; she thanked whatever deities there were on the planet for the fact that she wasn't going to. However, she was still refusing point blank to tell Albus anything.

'Don't you dare tell him, Poppy, don't you dare,' Minerva mumbled threateningly, biting her lip, as she clutched the headboard of the bed for support. 'You don't understand…'

Usually, Minerva would have ended up having her way, but now, for once, Poppy was resolute as well.

'What don't I understand, Minerva?' Poppy returned testily, though not unkindly. 'There's nothing to understand. Albus cares for you more dearly than anything else … and I know you love him as much too … so if you're going to be the mother of his child, you should tell him. Whatever it is, you can go through it together, Minerva and I promise you he'll love your child as much as you do. Just don't hide it from him, Minerva, it'll tear him …'

'Don't tell him,' Minerva repeated blankly in a ghost of a voice. 'Please…'

'I won't,' Poppy promised sincerely, stroking Minerva's back sympathetically. 'But you will. Love will find a way, Minerva McGonagall Dumbledore. it always does. Just believe in it.'

~*~*~*~

Albus Dumbledore gazed pensively at the hearth. The crackling fire reflected fiercely in his cerulean blue eyes as hundreds of unspoken thoughts whirled through his mind; the foremost, of late, being Minerva.

He stood up from the hard-backed chintz chair to stretch his uncomfortably stiff legs and walked to the window that overlooked the grassy grounds of Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest beyond, trying to recollect the time when she had last eaten a decent meal. She had not been keeping well for several weeks now and Albus was concerned about her deteriorating health. No matter how much she kept insisting that she was well, Albus had never been entirely convinced by her half-hearted assurances and had suggested she meet up with Poppy whenever she could spare the time.

He remained lost in his thoughts until the oaken doors to his rooms slid open and the very person on his mind - his wife stepped in, shutting the door noiselessly behind her. Minerva sat down on a couch in front of the hearth and Albus noticed she looked more unwell than ever, her face pale and her cheekbones protruding slightly. Albus moved away from the windowsill and sat down beside her.

'Albus … I want to … tell you … some … something,' Minerva said hesitantly, looking up at him, uncertainty clearly written on her pale face. Albus thought she looked like she had been crying though he could not, for the world of him, imagine why.

'What is it, Minerva dear?' Albus asked her gently, nearing her and slipping his arms around her waist for which Minerva was grateful. 'Did you visit Poppy?'

Minerva stared at him for a moment, wondering how he had found out, when she realized that it had been he who had suggested visiting the medi-witch in the first place. She whispered guardedly, 'Yes. Albus, I … I –'

And without any warning, she burst into tears; Albus, anxious and fretful about her as he was already, still pulled her close affectionately and held her in his arms as she cried, waiting till she calmed down enough to speak to him.

'Albus, I love you,' she said in a voice thick with emotion, her frail arms wrapped around him, holding on tightly for dear life, her head buried in his chest.

'Minerva, I love you too,' he returned tenderly, kissing the back of her neck. 'What's wrong, Minerva?' he asked her, gently holding up her face in his hands.

'Albus, I'm pr… pr,' she stuttered, pulling away from his hands shakily and burying her head in his robes. 'Oh, Albus, I'm so sorry…' she mumbled.

'Sorry for what?'

'Albus, I –' Minerva fumbled, her mind battling heatedly as to whether she should tell him the truth or not. And as Poppy's words echoed in her unresolved mind, on pure impulse, she settled for the truth. Holding up Albus' hand in her own, she placed it on her ever-so-slightly protruding stomach and whispered in a ghost of a voice, 'I'm pregnant.'

It was as though time itself had stopped; the room stood noiseless. The only sound that could be heard apart from the gentle wheezing from the portrait of a long dead Headmaster were the faint sobs of the woman muffled by velvety robes.

Albus Dumbledore held on to his wife as she wept; his prolonged silence only convincing Minerva that Albus was mad at her, that he hated her for what she had just said. She pulled herself from his uncomfortably tight embrace, tears still sliding down her face, and gazed straight into his eyes of China blue.

She was somewhat stunned by what she saw; for there etched in his cerulean blue eyes was every emotion she herself had felt when she had found out about her pregnancy – shock, fear, apprehension, and worry – but there was something else in his azure eyes which Minerva had failed to see at first, probably because it was overwhelmed by other emotions, even though very much there – happiness.

'Congratulations, dearest,' he whispered in a very emotion-choked voice, surprised at the fact that he had found his tongue; and for a while they could only stare at each other, dazed and lost for words. 'This is … this is wonderful!'

'You don't mean it,' Minerva said finally in a very flat voice, shaking her head at his reply, which seemed too good to be true, tears still trailing down her face. 'Albus, I'm so very sorry … '

'Sorry for what?' Albus asked her, drawing her back into his arms and kissing her forehead and then her abdomen, gently so. He looked back at Minerva and she was somewhat surprised to see a single pearly tear cascade down his face and trickle into his beard. 'It's our baby growing inside you, Minerva dear, why are you crying?'

'I could ask you the same thing,' Minerva breathed, smiling through her tears, as Albus' hand tenderly brushed them off. 'I just thought maybe …'

'Oh, Minerva,' Albus returned gently, tightening the embrace as his lips met hers in a tender kiss, for what seemed like an eternity. 'I love you –' he rested his hands gently on her stomach – ' and our child … and you don't have to be sorry. I really mean what I say.'

~*~*~*~

The night's events had somewhat reassured Minerva a bit; and yet she could not help but feel apprehensive at her unborn child's fate. Stroking her stomach lovingly, she walked into the hall, only half-dressed, to find Albus there, wide awake and scribbling away scores of letters at his desk with a feathery, green quill.

'Ah, Minerva,' he said when he saw her, smiling and abandoning the letters at once as he stood up to greet his wife. Minerva noticed that his eyes seemed to be filled with some unstated grief, not knowing that her husband was about to make one of the most difficult decisions of their lives … and that of their unborn child.

'Albus, are you alright?' she asked him anxiously, biting her lower lip.

Albus did not reply immediately; instead, he shut his eyes tightly as if steeling himself, opened them again and said, very slowly and clearly, 'Minerva, I've decided … you'll have to care for our child alone.' His eyes did not meet hers.

Minerva stared at him in incredulity, eyes wide in both shock and surprise; she could not quite believe what she was hearing.

'What?'

'I've decided,' Albus repeated, very gradually, though he was quite sure she had heard perfectly well, the first time, 'you'll have to care for our child alone.'

'And may I at least know why?' she asked him shakily, leaning on a small, antique stone bust for support and trying her best not to explode in fury.

'Minerva, it would be unfair to deprive our child of a normal childhood simply because of me, because of who I am…' he whispered forlornly, shaking his head.

'Don't tell me it's because of that, Albus,' Minerva breathed unsteadily, willing herself not to yell. 'I don't care who you are … and I know it's not because of that … I can tell as much … tell me the truth, Albus Dumbledore, I want the truth …'

Albus' blue eyes met hers for a split second, they seemed to be beseeching her to understand. Finally, he reconciled and whispered in a pained voice entirely different from the one he had spoken in seconds before, 'I can't risk it, Minerva … try to understand … can't and won't.' He looked away agonizingly, unable to meet her hurt gaze any more.

'Risk what, Albus? I don't care what you say … it's our child!' Minerva said firmly if dubiously, now fighting back tears. 'He or she has every right to know who you are! And what difference will it make? How can someone possibly have a "normal childhood" if they don't even know who their parents are?!'

'Minerva,' Albus said softly, trying to console his distraught and slightly hysterical wife and more importantly his own torn self. 'It's not possible, dear … people I considered to be family were killed because of me, because they knew me … I love you, Minerva and I love our child too, more dearly than I could possibly say … I just don't want anything to happen to either of you because of me. It was my fault … ,' his voice shook slightly and he closed his eyes again, bracing himself, before he continued, ' … it was my fault before and I cannot take it if it happens again.'

The bitterness, resentment and anguish with which he stated this alone made Minerva stop protesting and walk up to him. Holding his grief-stricken face in her hands, she whispered gently, 'But Albus, one day ... you can't hide the truth forever … some day, he or she'll have to know…'

'Then,' Albus said, sighing and kissing her hand tenderly, his eyes etched with unfathomable pain, 'I shall wait until that one day.'

End Flashback.

So Minerva had raised her daughter alone. When Mia had been younger, Albus had almost always been there with her, forever cradling her in his arms and kissing her tiny forehead lovingly while she gurgled happily and wrapped her tiny, stubby, little fingers around his long ones; sometimes pulling his long bread while he tried to scold her one-year old self sternly, but failed miserably and ended up laughing instead. Seeing them together had always bought a smile on Minerva's face. However, as she grew older, Albus would only visit at night when she would be asleep. Sometimes, he would go to her room, fondle her soft, pale cheeks and run his hands through her hair gently. But otherwise, he just watched her growing up in the distance.

Minerva often wondered if Albus had ever regretted his decision. Every time she saw him with their daughter, he seemed to have this inexplicable air of angst around him, like he was stung by the injustices of the world. Minerva had always felt the same way. But if Albus ever felt that way he had never voiced it. Not even to her.

Throughout all this, Minerva's main dread was that one day when Mia would be old enough to attend Hogwarts. It had been rather obvious that Mia would attend Hogwarts, there was no doubt about that … but the fact remained that if she went there as Minerva McGonagall's daughter … it would only raise awkward questions as to who her father was.

Minerva McGonagall's fatherless daughter – "Whose little kitten is that?" – By-line by Geraldine Skeeter, as she could well imagine. The famous Minerva McGonagall had a daughter with no father. It was news that was capable of setting the Daily Prophet and every other wizarding newspaper and magazine on fire. It was one of those rare times when Minerva wished she wasn't so famed and so well-known in the wizarding world. Forsaking her own daughter had been a very great price to pay for that recognition.

And to spare them both of the unnecessary torture of public pestering, Albus had come up with what Minerva could only call the worst of all his brilliant plans … though she knew it was unavoidable … and that there was no there way out. It pained her to know that one day when she would have to Obliviate her own daughter's memory. Wipe out all those remembrances. And watch from a distance.

It had only been two days and yet Minerva already had a very good idea of how Albus must have felt over those eleven years.

Moreover, the staff room gossip session had only added to all her worries.

Mia had already found out that she couldn't recollect her past. She had already realised that she didn't know who her parents were. And she would probably go to any lengths to find out. Minerva knew her daughter was, like herself, extremely headstrong. Once she had decided to do something; she would do it, no matter what. That is, unless someone managed to talk some sense into her and she listened to them. But there was only one in a thousand chances of her actually heeding their advice.

Minerva suddenly realised that all this while she hadn't said a word to Albus. Turning to face him, she noticed he was silent as well, his pensive face lit by the dull glow of the dying embers. She sighed as she apprehended how long she must have spent reminiscing and clasped his large, warm hands in her own.

'I apologize, Minerva,' he said, coming out of his reverie instantly. 'I was somewhat lost in contemplation.'

'It doesn't matter, Albus darling,' Minerva replied, smiling ruefully, as she leant back against him gently. 'I was doing just the same.'

He smiled back and withdrew his hand from hers slowly and placed it around her shoulders again. She sank into his broad chest, feeling the softness of his robes and the warmth of his body.

'Looks like we've forgotten the present and been wandering in the past instead,' Albus commented, running his fingers smoothly through her raven black hair once more.

'Umm-hmm,' Minerva responded distantly, lost partly in her thoughts and partly in the warmth of Albus' body. 'Perhaps we should just forget the present and dwell on the past for this one day.'

'Yes, of course,' Albus said, smiling benignly at his contemplative wife. 'No hurry … our stories of the present can always wait.'

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A/N: Okay, next four chapters are already written, probably be up next week. Thanks once again for the reviews and for all those who've sent anonymous reviews, here are the answers to your queries –

T – I'm guessing most of your questions were answered in this chapter, though about Minerva's parents … mmm, that will come, surely … but later; Poppy provide a very vague hint about that in this chappie … see if you can spot it.

Brightshadow – I guess that's the catch … perhaps Hagrid doesn't know …

- C'ya … from a very delighted Lee (aka Nymph of the Night)