It was cold. Terribly cold. And wet. Why was it wet? Oh, everything was hazy, how did she get here? Was she dreaming? She rose and cried out in pain. Her arm, or rather, her leg was in pain. How? Where… where was she? Her coat was matted in heavens knows what. Mud. Mud and blood. Why? She couldn't think straight. The pain was making her dizzy. She sat down a moment and looked at her paw. It was limp and swollen.

Albus was sitting at his post and looking out onto the misty battlefield. His feet were wet, his clothes were wet everything was wet and he was too tired to do anything about it. He knew that a drying spell would only solve the problem temporarily and a waterproofing spell would only work for a quarter of an hour. It wasn't worth it.

His eyes were beginning to strain, trying to see through the morning fog. He saw movement all of a sudden out in No-Man's-Land. He aimed his charmed gun at the movement and prepared to fire out into the mist. He couldn't risk an attack. But it was such a small movement, he wasn't sure he had seen it. He heard a gun cock and realized that someone else had seen the movement. His eyes strained to see it. What was it? Pressure began to build on the trigger of his gun

Of a sudden, the movement mewed. It was a desperate, forlorn sound. He'd heard it before. Where? Where had he heard it? He had heard many a cat but…. His eyes widened in realization.

"Minerva!" he whispered.

"Hold fire!" he shouted. A gun cracked nonetheless, "No!"

He threw down his gun and hoisted himself from the trench. Gunfire cackled around him like thunder. He ran towards the shape and tripped. His foot caught on coiled barbed wire. Its teeth snagged on his pant leg. He tried to go on for it would be her death and his to stay there, but it held fast. Where was she? He fought with his pant leg in a desperate struggle to free himself. A bullet whizzed past his ear. A piece of shrapnel tore his uniform.

"Dumbledore!" he heard someone shout behind him.

A machine gun peeled out in the morning mist. He hit the ground hard, twisting and writhing to free himself. He grabbed the material and ripped himself free and began running, blood flowing freely from his arm. It mewed pitifully in the smoke.

"Dumbledore, get back here!"

A pair of eyes reflected out of the fog. Almost there. He gained speed. He stooped at the shape as the dirt exploded near him. The shots were closing in around him. He hunched over the ball of fur protectively and apparated back to the trench as a shell landed directly where he had stood.

He inspected the thing that he had saved from certain death. He looked at the markings. Yes, it was her. But what was she doing here? He kissed it. She had been jarred unconscious.

"Corporal, what the heck was that?"

He looked up, hugging his unconscious wife, "A… cat?"

"A CAT, CORPORAL? YOU ALMOST GOT YOURSELF KILLED FOR A CAT?"

Albus swallowed holding back tears, "Yes sir,"

His commanding officer scratched his head. "I think the war's gettin' to him," he thought to himself. "You almost got yourself and your fellow soldiers killed. And all you have to show for it is some draggle-tailed pet, probably a flea-ridden disease carrier," he shouted.

But Albus held it closer defensively. He gave the officer a stern, direct glare.

Something seemed to change in the officer's eyes. They glazed over and he said almost mechanically, "Alright Dumbledore, I'll let you off this time, but don't let me catch you pulling anymore tricks," he said, jabbing a pointy finger into Albus' chest, and walked away.

Albus walked towards the bunker.

"Jonny! Jonny!" he called into the men as he went.

A tall man climbed over some sand bags and through some mud and landed in front of Albus.

"What's wrong, corporal?"

He looked into Albus' arms and his jaw dropped. He looked around and said in whispered tone, "How did she get here?"

"I… I don't know!"

"Is she alright?"

"I don't know,"

"Are you alright?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know,"

"You don't know anything do you?"

He laughed at that, some of the fear gone from his eyes.

"I really don't know,"

They set the cat down on a bunk and locked the door with a charm.

"Minerva, darling?" he squatted so he was eye level with her, "Minerva?" he pet her head then noticed his hand. "I'm not fit to touch her," he thought looking at the caked-on grime. He wiped off his hand on his uniform, but it wasn't much better. He put his hand back on her head. She was wet and her fur was matted. "Pomfrey! Do we have any towels… or… or blankets?"

"I'll look," came the reply.

A wet, dirty blanket was pushed against his side. Was this all he had to offer?

"Seche vite," he whispered at the blanket pushing his wand against it. The blanket was no cleaner, but at least it was dry. He began to lovingly dry the cat there on the bed. Its eyelids fluttered for a second and it stared at him.

"Stand back Pomfrey. Give her some space, I know that look,"

Slower than her usual briskness, she transformed. Her head rested on a pillow and her arms tucked up underneath her, but legs straight under the blanket. Her hazel eyes staring a bit baffled up at them. Her mouth formed a placid line. But she made no attempt to speak. Long black strands of hair fell gently over her face. She stared and they stared back both parties unbelievingly.

After a few minutes, Albus kneeled down next to her. She reached out a hand to touch his face. She pulled it back quickly. No… it couldn't be. But he grasped her palm and pushed it to his lips.

"Minerva, darling, what are you doing here?"

"I… I don't know,"

"Well… how did you get here?"

"I don't know,"

She looked so innocent in her white nightgown there on the army bunk.

"Are you alright? Is there something wrong that you wanted to tell me?"

"I don't know,"

"You don't know anything either,"

She frowned, upset.

Albus coughed and gave Pomfrey a look, "I think I'll step out now… keep a watch out for you," he said sheepishly.

"Minerva, darling… try to think, how did you get here?"

She sat up, her bare feet swinging over the side of the bed. She drew them back up when she looked at the ground, which was muddy even inside.

"Well… I…" she drew her legs to her chest, "I… the last thing I remember is… I put the children down… to bed… and then I went to bed… I… I was crying… I wanted you to be there today…"

"Why?"

"Little Timothey was trying to… speak. When he was so close, he almost said 'ball,' I missed you. I know you would have wanted to be there and I wanted you to be there today. I wanted to see you. I missed you so badly. I went to bed…early… and I cried myself to sleep… I had a dream, yes! That's it! I had a dream, that… that I was here with you, I must have… wanted it something awful… I suppose…you don't think it's possible do you?"

"What's possible?"

"That… that… I disapparated here… through my dreams? That my dreams carried me here?... you know like… sleep walking… I must have! I must have apparated here through my dreams… yes! That's it! I remember! In my dream, I supposed that if I were a cat, I could sneak in and no one would notice me… not even you… and then I could stay with you here,"

"But surely that is not your intent,"

She shook her head, "Oh no, Albus! Never! I could never leave the… The children! Oh Albus! How could I?... I… I…left… the" her hand flew to her mouth, "Oh Albus!"

He sat next to her and pressed her head to her chest, stroking her velvet hair.

"It's alright. Come now, the stress has gotten to you. Didn't the help I sent for come?"

"Why yes… but… I… Oh Albus, it's still terrible…"

"Shh, shh, shh. It's alright now! Calm down… We'll send you back and…"

"Ow!"

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, my wrist! I must have… well… cats always land feet down you know,"

Albus smiled in relief.

"Well," she said looking at him, "look at yourself! Bleeding all over everything,"

"Nag, nag, nag, that's all you women ever do,"

She smiled for the first time that day.

"Really, Albus it looks terrible… here let me…"

"No… no… no! No… no, no, no, no…" he said pushing her hand away, "we'll call Jonny back in shall we?"

She nodded.

"Pomfrey!"

"Yes?" he said peeking his head in through the door.

"Jonny, my dear wife sprained her wrist, can you help her?"

"No, no, no, Mr. Pomfrey, my dear husband cut himself in No-Man's-Land trying to fetch me, can you help him?"

He looked at them both, Albus, trying to be the eternal epitome of a gentleman and Minerva, trying to be the loving and eternally caring wife. He knew that they could both outlast each other and that Albus would probably get an infection before he would let himself be healed first and that Minerva's arm would puff up and purple and heal deformed before she'd let herself be healed first. There seemed to be no way out when Pomfrey announced that he could better concentrate if he fixed Albus first and that it would be the more proper if he healed Albus first so he could give Minerva the best of care. Albus reluctantly gave in.

He healed Albus quickly and was glad that both the wound was not deeper and that it was not a magical wound. He turned his attention to Minerva and healed her wrist, even though it was still sore afterwards.

"Sorry," he shrugged, "We've ran out of soothing balm with all the… Ahem… I think we had better get you back home… they'll start… well… we had better get you back. Albus.."

"Yes darling, let's get you back," he said picking her up in his toned arms, "if you would be so kind as to… ah, I see you read my mind"

The door was opened and the two men stepped out into the sunlight, one of them holding a tabby cat with curious markings.

(A/N: Well, Jerry my muse came back on the demand of some very persuasive reviewers, so you would like Jerry to continue inspirational thoughts…)