AN: Alright everyone, this is sort of a bridge chapter. I promise it will pick up again with the next one. It was actually hard to get it out this time. I went through two separate drafts of this chapter, so I hope it meets with your expectations. I was reading the reviews, of which I got many squee and I hope I haven't horribly confused everyone. Answers will be forthcoming I promise. Now, enough of my rambling; on with the story!

Minerva could feel the breath slip from her body as the tiny shards of her heart were crushed to dust beneath the heels of the guards surrounding her. It was Albus, of that she had no doubt, but he was so utterly different. His change didn't end with a simple haircut. His long beard, the same one she constantly brushed crumbs from, had disappeared. In its place was a simple goatee. His half moon spectacles that had always seemed an extension of his person, we gone. His face carried a few new scars, and his nose had certainly been broken again. But, the greatest, and most disturbing difference, was his eyes. The sky blue and light hearted twinkle of that morning was gone. Instead, she came eye to eye with nothingness. A cold grey had settled there, betraying nothing as they bored into her.

He stared at her, peering into her soul, and giving her a look of utter and complete loathing. Her heart wrenched, but she was unable to look away. She was mesmerized by the steel as it caught faint rays from the sun. She was sure, if she stared long enough, that he would blink and declare that it was all some gigantic mistake, that everything was fine. But, he did not blink. His eyes only hardened further, anger seeping out of his every pore. She couldn't stand it any longer, and for the first time since she had met him, Minerva was forced to look away from Albus in agony. Any part of her heart that had remained intact was now dust being blown away with the wind.

She stood, unbelieving as the taller man to her right stepped forward, bowing as he came to a stop. "Minister, the woman you requested sir."

"Were there any difficulties?"

"No sir," he replied, reaching into his traveling cloak. He handed her wand to Albus. "She came without protest. She did refuse to answer any of our questions. I thought it prudent to wait for your instructions before beginning the interrogation."

"Very good Roberts. You are dismissed; I will handle it from here. See that the door closes on your way out." The entire time he spoke, Albus never removed his eyes from her, making it difficult for her not to squirm.

With another quick bow, Roberts turned on his heel, and the entire contingent walked back through the door, leaving the two very much alone. Albus tilted his head slightly to the side, watching her simply stand there like a lost child. Leisurely, he began to roll her wand around his fingers, watching it spin, a small spark coming from the end. The wand suddenly stopped and the irons that had bound her wrists opened and fell to her feet with a crash. Minerva rubbed her wrists gingerly as she stared at them in disgust.

"Come, sit," he ordered, motioning to the seat before his desk. "I hardly think I need to worry about an assassination, do I?" Cautiously, Minerva moved farther into the room, watching his every move. Gracefully, she lowered herself into the chair directly across from him, folding her hands in her lap. The only sign of her inner turmoil was the way she twisted her fingers together.

"Albus, what on.." She was cut off as he sudden rose from his seat.

"You will be silent!" He stepped out from around his desk, and with a wave of his hand, her chair spun around to face him. Minerva winced at the sudden movement and the groan of the wood against the rough stone flooring.

This new Albus cut a menacing figure as he loomed over her. With the warmth missing from his eyes, and the armor and trousers he now wore, Albus looked far more like a soldier than the scholar she had fallen in love with.

He strode forward until their legs were almost touching, and she could feel the heat radiating from him in waves. He leaned forward, putting his weight on the arm rests on either side of her, blocking any thought she may have had of escape. She took in a sharp breath, and vaguely noted he no longer smelled of sandalwood. Whatever the new odor was, it made her stomach roll. Their noses were almost touching, and the very thing that had enthralled her that morning now, inexplicably, caused her to fill with dread.

"You even smell like her. Not many women smell of vanilla anymore." He pushed back and began to pace in front of her. "I must say, I am very much impressed, and that is saying something. You must have spent a considerable amount of time preparing for your little jaunt. You look just how I remember her, just as beautiful, just as graceful. You even managed her nervous tick," he motioned to her hands that she quickly stilled.

"But, you forgot one important little piece of information when you choose a person to impersonate. Minerva McGonagall is and has been for some time, very much dead! Don't you think it's a little odd for her to suddenly show up at the school infirmary? So, tell me. Who were you sent to kill? I hardly think Poppy was the target; was it Severus Snape perhaps?"

"Albus, what the he.." She was cut off again, and she had to bite the tip of her tongue to keep from snapping at him. At this point, she wasn't sure of what his reaction to that would be. Nothing was as it should be.

"I have not given you permission to address me so informally madam. You will show me the respect I am due."

"Oh believe me, I am," she snapped back, her temper getting the better of her. The anger and slight fear that had kept her silent before was beginning to wane. "Would you be so kind as to explain to me, Minister, what the hell is going on! You tell me this morning that the temptation is too great, and the next thing I know, here we are." It had all been a lie, everything that morning had been a lie. And, to make matters worse, he hadn't had the courage to tell her. As the fury began to boil up within her, she completely forgot everything else she had seen that day did the first thing that came to mind.

Albus' head snapped to the side, and his eyes widened in shock. On instinct, he reached out and grabbed the offending hand as she pulled back to slap him again. With a strength she never knew he had, he yanked her to him roughly, bringing her arm behind her. Her face came to rest in the crook of his neck, and for a fleeting instant, she wanted nothing more than to lean into him and take strength in his presence.

But, it was short lived as he released her arm and grabbed her shoulders instead. "You definitely did your homework; Minerva was always the only one brave enough to have done that. So, you are either very brave," he leaned in again, pressing against her shoulders painfully, "or very stupid. I'm not quite sure which it is yet. But, let me make myself perfectly clear. I am not someone to trifle with, and the next time you raise your hand to me, you will lose it. I am perfectly understood?"

His voice never raised above a whisper, but Minerva was sure his words reverberated all the way down to hell. She nodded numbly, her mind working ferociously. Events from the day raced through her brain, and it began to fall into place. "My hand," she whispered, forgetting Albus was there for a moment.

"Yes, your hand. I grant you, it is a very beautiful hand, but you could live with only one. And, I don't know what you think may have occurred, but we certainly did not dine together this morning. Now, I want to know what your name is, your real name."

Minerva stared at her hand, which had begun to tremble ever so slightly. Events were falling into place, but she couldn't conceive a future where this was Albus. The man who had mourned the death of a butterfly on a warm springs day could never turn into the monster that stood before her. "The muggles got it right," she said.

"Excuse me?" Albus questioned, confused.

"Minister, what is the date?"

Albus' eyes narrowed and he leaned against his desk, his arms crossing in front of him. "I fail to see how that relates to your name, but today is November first."

Minerva shook her head quickly. "No, I mean, what's the year? When is it?"

"It's 2002 of course. Now kindly answer my question before I lose what is left of my patience." Minerva stared up at him, dumbstruck. It had only taken four years.

Albus watched, somewhat confused, as Minerva began to shake in her chair. At first, he thought the strange imposter was coming to her senses and the reality of her situation was beginning to set in, but then, Minerva began to laugh. It bubbled up from deep within her; all of her doubts and fears, all of her nervous energy tore through her and escaped in the only way that it could. She laughed until her sides ached, and her head began to spin, making her laugh harder.

The sound, however, was anything but funny. It was a wretched, dry sound that should have caused even the bravest of souls to weep. "Four years," she managed to choke out. "All of this in four years."

Albus' tentative hold on his temper was teetering on the edge of oblivion. "I hardly think that your situation is something I would call funny. If you cannot answer a simple question, then you leave me with little other alternative. You will be turned over to the praetorian guard for further questioning. I will warn you now; they can be rather..persuasive when they choose to be."

The laugh died in Minerva's throat and she stood but Albus did not back away. He watched with interest as, for the first time since she entered the office, Minerva reached out and touched him.

Her hand came to rest just above his heart, and the leather covering his chest was cool and smooth to the touch. "If you're trying to harm me, the armor is spell proofed; it will do you no good."

"Oh Albus," Minerva sighed, "what could have happened to you? How could it have come to this?"

She let her fingers slide down and finally away from his body. She turned her back on him and walked around his desk, but she stopped at its edge. There, sitting alone was a single silver picture frame. It was a picture of them, taken six years before at the Yule Ball. One of her Gryffindor's had snapped the photo as they were dancing, and had given a copy to each of them when he had graduated. Minerva watched as the couple twirled and swayed to music that could no longer be heard. She watched herself throw her head back in laughter at a joke she couldn't begin to recall. Her own copy of the cherished keepsake sat in a similar frame in her office.

"I always loved dancing with you," she whispered, more to herself than him, but he heard her and stepped closer. She turned from him and gazed out the window. It looked down upon a small park. There was a solitary pond without a single duck to disturb the surface. The tree held no leaves, and the flowers had long since died. It was desolate, and it fit perfectly with her mood.

"You were always so light on your feet, so free. It's like flying..without fearing the fall. I could have stayed there forever. That was such an amazing night." You said you would never.."

She cleared her throat. "I am exactly who I appear to be, despite what you seem to believe, and we have much to discuss if I am to return home. I don't know what happened to you, but this is not the world in which I belong."

Albus watched as she leaned against the window frame, wrapping her arms around herself and the photo protectively. Every fiber of his being screamed plot, but he couldn't deny that smallest of flutters that reappeared as she looked at him with those eyes or the tone in her voice.

"I know that look Albus," she said. She had been watching his reflection in the glass for the last few minutes. "Ask your question. I don't bite..much."

Albus bristled and drew himself up to his full height. "If you are Minerva, then how did you get here? What were you doing at Hogwarts?"

Minerva turned away from the window and leaned against his winged back chair. "It should be obvious what I was doing at Hogwarts. It's called teaching Albus; it is, after all, what you pay me to do." She wiped away the single tear that had trailed down her cheek. "As for how I got here, that's a story I only know the beginning to."

It took all of her strength not to jump when his hand, ever so gently, lifted her chin. "How can you be?" His voice was soft, almost tender.

Minerva just gave an ironic grin and quirked her head. "I was just wondering the same thing about you Minister. I wondered the same thing."

He simply stared into her eyes before resetting her shattered heart with a single word. "Minerva," he breathed, closing his tormented eyes. When they opened again, for the briefest glimpse, they were his again. Before she could react, she found herself wrapped securely in his arms, being squeezed to within an inch of her life. When he pulled away he had regained his composure. "Come, I want you to tell me everything." He grasped her hands in his and pulled her through another door, shutting it behind them.